MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy: The Killing by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone
Authors: William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone
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can just put it out of his mind.”
“It’s called a detached attitude,” Blanton said. “And yes, he has something that is rare in men, an ability to recognize right from wrong, make an immediate and resolute decision, then act upon it without agonizing reappraisal.”
Guthrie laughed. “I’m not all that sure what you said, Charley. But damn if it didn’t sound good.”
The others laughed as well.
Over in her dress shop, Meghan had read the same article. She was not surprised by it; she had seen Duff in action on the day he faced down the eight men who had come to Chugwater specifically to kill him. She also knew him well enough to know that if he was ever placed in a position of having to choose to act to save an innocent life, such as he had been in Cheyenne, that he would make the decision he’d made.
Meghan had never known anyone quite like Duff MacCallister. She was attracted to him by his rugged good looks, yes. And there was a dangerous excitement about him, yes. But underneath all that was a gentleness that defied all understanding.
Chapter Nine
Missouri – Kansas Border
Crack Kingsley was born and raised in Clay County, Missouri, but when the war started, he had left Missouri and ridden as an irregular with Doc Jennison and his Kansas Jayhawkers.
The Jayhawkers told themselves that they were a military outfit, and they were organized as one, though none of them wore uniforms. And, since they were what Doc Jennison called a “supernumerary military unit,” which he explained meant that they were not really a part of the Union army, they were responsible for supporting themselves. That was actually the part that Kingsley had enjoyed the most. They supported themselves by stealing from the Confederate sympathizers, whether they were banks, stores, or individuals.
It had meant nothing to Kingsley that the banks, stores, and individuals they stole from had been his own neighbors. Kingsley’s mother had been abandoned by Kingsley’s drunken father, and they had survived during Kingsley’s formative years due to the kindness of their neighbors. Rather than endearing them to him, though, it had generated a sense of inferiority, jealousy and envy. Thus when the war started, he’d had no problem crossing over to the other side.
When Crack Kingsley crossed the border into Missouri today, he realized that this was the first time he had been back in the state since the war. Like the rest of Missouri, the citizens of Clay County had been divided in their loyalties, and as many of the men of the county had fought for the North as fought for the South. What upset the citizens of Clay County about Kingsley was that he had joined the Kansas irregulars.
And, he had raided and killed his neighbors.
Looking around him, he knew exactly where he was. This was the old Dumey place. The house had not changed. The huge, scarred oak tree was still there. So too was the meandering creek. He smiled as he recalled the raid, the first raid he had ever led.
Clay County, Missouri, 1862
The raid had started under Doc Jennison, but they ran into a unit of Confederate soldiers led by General Sterling Price. Badly outnumbered, they paid a high price and Jennison ordered his men to split up and make it back to Kansas on their own.
Because Kingsley was a native of the area and knew it well, seven men attached themselves to him when they separated. At first, Kingsley was irritated by it. Then he realized that they had not only attached themselves to him, they were following him, listening to his orders. That gave Kingsley an idea. He would conduct his own raids, but with only seven men attached, he would have to be careful in selecting his targets.
He didn’t have to look far. As he and his men rode north away from Kansas City, they came across the Dumey farm. Kingsley knew the man others called “The Dutchman,” and had a strong dislike for him. He had tried to come on to Alma, Dumey’s daughter, but
“It’s called a detached attitude,” Blanton said. “And yes, he has something that is rare in men, an ability to recognize right from wrong, make an immediate and resolute decision, then act upon it without agonizing reappraisal.”
Guthrie laughed. “I’m not all that sure what you said, Charley. But damn if it didn’t sound good.”
The others laughed as well.
Over in her dress shop, Meghan had read the same article. She was not surprised by it; she had seen Duff in action on the day he faced down the eight men who had come to Chugwater specifically to kill him. She also knew him well enough to know that if he was ever placed in a position of having to choose to act to save an innocent life, such as he had been in Cheyenne, that he would make the decision he’d made.
Meghan had never known anyone quite like Duff MacCallister. She was attracted to him by his rugged good looks, yes. And there was a dangerous excitement about him, yes. But underneath all that was a gentleness that defied all understanding.
Chapter Nine
Missouri – Kansas Border
Crack Kingsley was born and raised in Clay County, Missouri, but when the war started, he had left Missouri and ridden as an irregular with Doc Jennison and his Kansas Jayhawkers.
The Jayhawkers told themselves that they were a military outfit, and they were organized as one, though none of them wore uniforms. And, since they were what Doc Jennison called a “supernumerary military unit,” which he explained meant that they were not really a part of the Union army, they were responsible for supporting themselves. That was actually the part that Kingsley had enjoyed the most. They supported themselves by stealing from the Confederate sympathizers, whether they were banks, stores, or individuals.
It had meant nothing to Kingsley that the banks, stores, and individuals they stole from had been his own neighbors. Kingsley’s mother had been abandoned by Kingsley’s drunken father, and they had survived during Kingsley’s formative years due to the kindness of their neighbors. Rather than endearing them to him, though, it had generated a sense of inferiority, jealousy and envy. Thus when the war started, he’d had no problem crossing over to the other side.
When Crack Kingsley crossed the border into Missouri today, he realized that this was the first time he had been back in the state since the war. Like the rest of Missouri, the citizens of Clay County had been divided in their loyalties, and as many of the men of the county had fought for the North as fought for the South. What upset the citizens of Clay County about Kingsley was that he had joined the Kansas irregulars.
And, he had raided and killed his neighbors.
Looking around him, he knew exactly where he was. This was the old Dumey place. The house had not changed. The huge, scarred oak tree was still there. So too was the meandering creek. He smiled as he recalled the raid, the first raid he had ever led.
Clay County, Missouri, 1862
The raid had started under Doc Jennison, but they ran into a unit of Confederate soldiers led by General Sterling Price. Badly outnumbered, they paid a high price and Jennison ordered his men to split up and make it back to Kansas on their own.
Because Kingsley was a native of the area and knew it well, seven men attached themselves to him when they separated. At first, Kingsley was irritated by it. Then he realized that they had not only attached themselves to him, they were following him, listening to his orders. That gave Kingsley an idea. He would conduct his own raids, but with only seven men attached, he would have to be careful in selecting his targets.
He didn’t have to look far. As he and his men rode north away from Kansas City, they came across the Dumey farm. Kingsley knew the man others called “The Dutchman,” and had a strong dislike for him. He had tried to come on to Alma, Dumey’s daughter, but
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