Defiance of Eagles Read online

  San Francisco

  From their hotel room Johnny and Mary Kate stood at the open window, looking out over the bay. They could hear the buoy marker bells and see the moonlight dancing on the surface of the black water. Several ships were at anchor and their lights were displayed.

  On the cobblestone street below they heard the hollow clop of horse hooves and the ring of rolling, iron-rimmed wheels.

  “Are you happy?” Johnny said, putting his arm around her and pulling her closer to him.

  “I am deliriously happy,” she said. “What about you, Johnny? Are you happy?”

  “Yes, I’m happy. But I still have to pinch myself several times, just to make certain that it’s real. I mean a cowboy marrying a rancher’s daughter.” He laughed. “I remember sitting around in the bunkhouse down at the XIT, that sometimes we would get in these fanciful conversations. And every now and then, someone would have this wild idea, dream, that they would find a woman they could love, who just happened to be the rancher’s daughter. I never thought it would actually happen.”

  “Well, darling, you aren’t just a cowboy, you know. You are a rancher yourself.”

  “I know,” Johnny said. “That part’s hard to believe, too.”

  “You know what I’m finding hard to believe?” Mary Kate asked.

  “What?”

  “That we are standing over here, looking out the window, when we could be over there.” She pointed to the bed.

  “Yeah,” Johnny said with a smile. “Why don’t we do that?”

  Ackerman encampment

  “All right, men,” Ackerman said the next day. “This is your final briefing. By the time the wagon gets here, the horses will be exhausted, so they’ll have to stop to give the horses a blow before they start down the other side. I will put all of you in position so that we will have overlapping fields of fire. When I give the word, start shooting.”

  “Are we going to give them a chance to stop and just give us the gold?” Smith asked.

  “No,” Ackerman said. “Consider this to be a military operation where it isn’t convenient to take prisoners. That means when we start shooting, we will shoot to kill. I expect all six men, the five guards and the driver, to be dead within thirty seconds after we open fire, so make your shots count. Jones, Boyle, and Smith, you three are my best sharpshooters. And since the trail guards will be the farthest away, you will take them. Waters, Baker, and Jerrod, you will take the two guards in front. Powell, you and the two Hastings will take the driver and the riding shotgun guard. Are there any questions?”

  “No, sir,” they all said as one.

  “Major, Sergeant Casey just flashed at us,” Jones said.

  “All right, men, this is it. Everyone get into position, and do your duty,” Ackerman ordered.

  The men hurried to get into the positions they had already prepared by digging into the ground behind natural rock barriers. These would not only provide them with concealment, the rocks would also provide cover, though if the operation went as planned, there would be no need for cover because the likelihood of return fire was practically nonexistent.

  Ackerman also got into position, but he didn’t intend to shoot unless it was necessary to clean up what one of his three shooting teams may have left. He could hear the wagon approaching before he could see it. The snaps and pops of the whip urging the team on up the pass, the whistles and shouts of the driver, the squeak and rattle of the harness and the wagon itself. He could also hear the clacking sound of the hooves of the horses as they struck the rocky ground.

  Finally the two lead guards came around the bend, followed by the wagon, then by the two men riding trail. Ackerman had preselected the kill zone and had marked it with two sticks stuck in the ground to form a little pyramid. The men had been told to hold fire until the wagon reached that point.

  The wagon labored on up the hill until the point was reached.

  “Fire!” Ackerman shouted as loud as he could.

  “What the hell?” one of the guards shouted in shock and fear. He was so surprised that he made no effort at all to go for his gun. Instead he twisted around in his saddle to see who had shouted.

  That was his last move. Nine rifles began shooting at the same time, raining fire down, not only from above, but from both sides of the narrow pass. The driver was first to be hit, and he tumbled forward, falling from the wagon and being run over by it. The other five men went down within the next few seconds. Not one of them managed to even pull their weapons, let alone get off a shot.

  The two horses that had been the mounts of the lead guards bolted ahead, and the horses pulling the wagon also tried to run.

  “The team! Shoot the team!” Ackerman shouted, and after another half dozen shots, both horses fell in their traces. The two horses that had been ridden by the trailing guards, their saddles now empty, turned and galloped back down the pass, the sound of their galloping hoofbeats echoing and re-echoing back up the trail.

  “Ya hoo!” Travis Hastings shouted, stabbing one hand into the air. “That was sweet!”

  The wagon was carrying three hundred ounces of gold dust. At the going rate, that was six thousand dollars, which was better than Ackerman expected. He would clear eighteen hundred dollars, and the men would get four hundred and twenty dollars each. To a man, they were pleased with their take.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Although normally gold dust was easily negotiable, six men were killed in the robbery, and the story made front-page headlines in nearly every newspaper in the West. Included in the story was a caution to be very wary of anyone trying to pay for goods or services in gold, rather than in currency.

  AN ACT MOST FOUL: SIX MEN SLAUGHTERED!

  Bodies Not Found for Three Days

  On the 19th, instant, six men, good and true, were slaughtered, their bodies left in Cutaway Pass to be feast for carrion birds. Their remains too horrible to view, they were brought back to Casey from which they had parted but five days previous.

  The men were employed by Mine Number Two, and according to Angus Hathaway, they were taking some three hundred ounces of gold dust to Deer Lodge, to be placed on the train for shipment to Denver.

  The perpetrators of this nefarious deed are not known, but it is believed that there were several involved, for a check on the weapons of the guards disclosed the fact that not one cartridge had been fired, which would indicate that they were fired upon from ambuscade. When asked if this might be the work of Ackerman’s Raiders, Sheriff Tompkins stated that it could be, but he has no evidence to support that assumption.

  Merchants are asked not to accept gold dust as the specie for any business transaction until its source has been verified by the sheriff’s office.

  “What are we going to do now?” Casey asked after he read the paper. “We’ve got all this gold, and it is worthless.”

  “I know where it can be exchanged, but it will cost us ten percent,” Ackerman said.

  “Ten percent. What does that mean?”

  “It means that instead of getting four hundred and twenty dollars, you will each get only three hundred and seventy-eight dollars.”

  “Well, hell,” Casey said, smiling broadly. “That’s still a lot more money than any of us have ever got at once before. And it’ll be money we can spend.”

  “Tell the others what I plan to do,” Ackerman said. “And let them select from their number one man to come with me so that they will be satisfied that I am not cheating them.”

  The others agreed to go along with Ackerman’s plan, and Jerrod was the one they selected to go with him. Ackerman and Jerrod traveled by train to Denver, where Ackerman contacted a man who, at one time, had been a sutler on an army base until he lost his contract because of suspected fraud. There, Ackerman offered him six thousand dollars in gold at a ten percent discount, and the deal was consummated.

  Two weeks later, the men, with money to spend, were in Willow Creek. Ackerman, as was his custom, took a room in a hotel, then dressed
in a suit, vest, and cravat, inquired at the desk as to what would be the finest restaurant in town.

  “Why, that would be the Rustic Rock, sir,” the desk clerk said. “It’s just down to the corner on the same side of the street.” He pointed.

  “Thank you.” Ackerman saw a pile of newspapers on the desk, and, paying for one, he picked it up and took it to the restaurant with him.

  He could see where the Rustic Rock got its name. Although most of the buildings in town were of lumber, the restaurant was constructed of rock, hauled in from the mountains. The rocks were perfectly fitted together like pieces of a puzzle, and they were held in place by mortar. Every other diner in the establishment was dressed much as Ackerman was, verifying the desk clerk’s assertion that this was a fine restaurant.

  Ackerman ordered a meal of oysters on the half shell, baked stuffed trout, and a raw spinach and mushroom salad.

  “And, for my drink, a Sauvignon Blanc,” he concluded.

  “Oh, my, yes. An excellent choice, sir,” the waiter said obsequiously.

  As he waited for his meal to be delivered, he read the newspaper he had picked up from the hotel.

  COL. EDW. HAMILTON DONATES TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS

  Colonel Edward Hamilton of Brimstone Ranch, near Deer Lodge Lake, has donated ten thousand dollars to a fund with the idea of establishing an institute of higher education in the territory of Montana. “I feel that we cannot be seriously considered for statehood until we have an accredited university within our borders,” Hamilton said.

  Edward Hamilton, who was once the Earl of Denbigh, gave up his title to become an American citizen. He fought with honor and distinction in the American Civil War, and went on to command the Third Cavalry under the noted Indian fighter, General Alfred Fielding, in the Western campaigns. While still in the army he married Megan MacCallister, of the noted MacCallister family. A few years ago, Colonel Hamilton left the army to begin ranching. Colonel and Mrs. Hamilton have one daughter, Mary Kate, who, with her husband, John McVey, own and manage Twin Buttes Ranch, adjacent to Brimstone.

  Well now, Ackerman thought, thumping the article with his fingers. This is good to know. Yes, sir, this is very good to know.

  During his meal an attractive, and very well-dressed, young woman walked by his table, where she dropped something.

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “I’ve dropped my reticule.” Ackerman got down to help her pick up the items that scattered, and while they were engaged, she slipped him a piece of paper.

  “Thank you so much,” she said with a polite smile. Not until the woman was seated at her own table did Ackerman read the note.

  My name is Molly. I live in a small house behind Green Street. If you are interested in what I have to sell, look back at me as you leave.

  Ackerman smiled. The woman didn’t look like a prostitute. As he left, he made a point of looking back toward her. She returned his look with a slight nod of her head.

  An hour later, having changed out of his suit, Ackerman went into the Muddy Water Saloon. As he expected, he saw Sergeant Casey and Corporal Jones sitting at a table in the back. Both men had a glass of beer sitting in front of them, and both were gnawing on pickled pig’s feet. He walked over to them.

  “Hello, Major,” Clyde Jones said.

  “Clyde, first names only in here, remember?” Jay Casey said.

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. Sorry Maj . . . uh, Boyd,” Jones said.

  “I appreciate the courtesy,” Ackerman said. “But Jay is right. When we are among the civilians, we must be very careful.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jones said.

  “I want you two men to take a look at this,” he said, sliding the newspaper across to them.

  “What is it? I don’t see what you are talking about?” Casey said.

  “This article,” Ackerman said.

  “Oh, about Edward? Yeah, I remember that son of a bitch. He was the one brought charges against me ’n Jones ’n Boyle. You, too, as I recall.”

  “Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” Ackerman said.

  By now Jones had seen the article as well. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I’m talking about money, Clyde, a great deal of money,” Ackerman said. He smiled. “Money in negotiable currency, not gold dust, or gold nuggets, or anything we have to palm off. Cash. And, for all three of us, well, four counting Boyle, it will also be no small amount of personal revenge.”

  “Well, maybe I can see some revenge here,” Casey said. “I mean if we go burn his house or something. But I’ll be damned if I can see where there’s any money in it.”

  “There’s money in it, don’t you worry about that. There’s a lot of money in it. And I’ll explain it all when the time comes that it is necessary for you to know,” Ackerman said.

  “All right, what do we have to do?” Casey said.

  “The first thing we have to do is get ourselves up to Deer Lodge.”

  “Can we go by train? I mean, we got a little money and it would be nice to go somewhere by train, I think.”

  “All right. But it would cause too much suspicion if all eleven of us went on the same train and sent our horses on the same train. I suggest we go up on four different trains, then rendezvous up there.”

  “Where, up there?”

  “Spread out in the saloons when you get there. I’ll find you. Casey, you get the schedule worked out as to who goes when. I’ll be the last one to come up. We’ll take at least a week to do it.”

  “All right,” Casey said.

  Two days later, Ackerman found a story in the paper that he had been looking for.

  WOMAN FOUND DEAD

  Throat Had Been Cut

  A lady of the evening, known as Molly MaGee, though that may not have been her real name, was found dead in her own bed late last night by a gentleman caller. It is believed that she was killed by one of her customers, perhaps in a dispute over money. The sheriff has no leads and asks that anyone who may know something that could be helpful to contact him. Due to the sensitivity of the situation, the sheriff guarantees that the name of anyone who may provide him with information will not be released.

  Ackerman smiled. There was nothing to connect him to the woman.

  After all ten of his men had been dispatched to Deer Lodge, Ackerman, wearing a black shirt, clerical collar, and a low-brimmed hat, went down to the depot where he bought a ticket as “Father Thaddeus Sanford.”

  “Will you be startin’ a new church up there in Deer Lodge, Padre?” the ticket clerk asked.

  “I will see if there are any sheep up there that need my pastoral care,” Ackerman said.

  “Well, I’ve spent some time up there, and I tell you true, that’s sure a town that can use a little pastoral care.”

  Shortly after arriving in Deer Lodge, Ackerman changed out of the clerical collar. He had a strict rule that no more than three of the men could ever be together at one time while in town. Too many men together attract attention, whereas two or three men don’t. Because of his rule, the men were scattered out among three different saloons. He checked in with all of them to make certain they were ready for orders.

  His next step would be to reconnoiter his target, and that meant he had to find out as much about Brimstone and Twin Buttes as possible. He accomplished that by going to the land officer under the auspices of wanting to buy land.

  “Yes, sir,” the real estate agent said. “We have some fine land for sale.”

  “Do you have a map? I would like to look at it on a map before I actually ride out to examine the land.”

  “Oh, yes indeed we have a map. Come over here, it’s spread out on the table. Quite detailed it is, too.”

  “Will it tell me who my neighbors might be?”

  “Oh, yes, I have all the owned property crosshatched. That means that anything that isn’t crosshatched is available for sale.”

  Ackerman went over to examine the map. “Oh, my, this is a huge piece of property here,”
he said, pointing to one large area of cross-hatching. “Does all that belong to one man?”

  “Yes, one hundred thousand acres belongs to Colonel Hamilton,” the land agent said. “Oh, no, wait, that’s not entirely correct. He deeded this part of it right here, twenty thousand acres, to his new son-in-law.”

  “New son-in-law?”

  “Yes, Johnny McVey is his name, and he is as nice a young man as you ever will meet. I attended the wedding when he married Miss Mary Kate. Well, most of the county did. It was quite a large event. But what else would you expect from the largest landholder in the county?”

  “What kind of neighbor would he make? Colonel Hamilton, I believe you called him? Is he in the army?”

  “Not now, but he was in the army, and you know how these army colonels are. Once they get that title, it seems that they never want to give it up. Oh, and to answer your question, I believe Colonel Hamilton would make an absolutely wonderful neighbor.”

  “And this area here? This is the land you say he deeded to his son-in-law?”

  “Yes, sir, twenty thousand acres.”

  “I see.”

  “Would you like to ride out there to look at some of the land?”

  “No, not yet. I have some investors back in New York; I’m going to have to consult more with them before I can do anything else. But I do thank you for showing me the layout on the map. I’ll get back to you soon.”

  “Very good, sir, I’ll be looking for you,” the land agent said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Twin Buttes

  “Mary Kate, hold that end up, will you?” Johnny McVey asked. McVey was putting in a new gate to the corral. He had the bottom hinge in place but needed the gate held up so he could get the top hinge.