MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy: The Killing by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page B

But he never had.
    “Where are you now, Jesse James?” Kingsley asked, speaking aloud. “You and your big mouth? Oh, that’s right. You’re dead, ain’t you?”
    Slapping his legs against the side of his horse, he laughed as he rode on toward Kansas City, his head wreathed in smoke from his cigar.
    On the trail between Cheyenne and Chugwater
     
    “You sure he is going to come through here?” Lee Mosley asked.
    “The newspaper said he lived in Chugwater, didn’t it?” Dingus asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “Then he will be coming through here. This is the only way he can get back home.”
    “Yeah, well we been here two days now, and he ain’t showed up yet,” Marvin said.
    “He prob’ly didn’t leave yesterday because of the rain,” Lee said. “That was some rain. We most drowned our ownselves. We should’a found a place to wait it out.”
    “And maybe miss MacCallister? No, sir. I ain’t willin’ to take that chance. By leavin’ when we did, we’re sure to be ahead of him, and when he comes ...”
    “He’s comin’ now,” Marvin said, interrupting the conversation.
    “What?”
    “There’s someone comin’, one man on a horse. I would say that is more than likely him, wouldn’t you?”
    “Where are the horses? Are they out of sight?” Dingus asked.
    “They are down in the coulee, just where you told me to put ’em,” Lee said. “If that’s MacCallister, he ain’t goin’ to see ’em.”
    “That’s MacCallister all right,” Dingus said.
    “How do you know?”
    “I had someone point him out to me yesterday,” Dingus said. He pointed to a little jut of rocks about thirty yards in front of them. “Lee, you get down there and stay out of sight until he passes you. That way when he gets here, you’ll be behind him. Marvin, you get over there behind that rock on the left, and I’ll be here. That way we’ll have him from three different angles.”
    “How will we know when to shoot?” Marvin asked.
    “I’m goin’ to shoot first,” Dingus answered. “And if I’m lucky, there won’t any of us have to do any more shootin’ a’tall after that.”
    “I sort of hope you miss,” Lee said. “I’d like a crack at that son of a bitch myself.”
    “Hurry, get in position before he gets any closer. I don’t want to take a chance on him seein’ any of us,” Dingus said.
     
     
    Duff started back home to Chugwater the day after he’d made arrangements to buy the Angus cattle. The heat was intense, and what little wind there was exacerbated more than alleviated the situation because it blew in his face like a blast from the mouth of a furnace. The land, familiar to him now because he had traveled it many times over the last year, unfolded before him in an endless vista of rocks, sage, and hills. The sun heated the ground, sending up undulating waves, which caused near objects to shimmer and nonexistent lakes to appear tantalizingly in the distance. It was always a hard day’s ride from Cheyenne to Sky Meadow, and it seemed even more so now because of the heat.
    Suddenly there was the crack of a pistol and a bullet whizzed by, taking his hat off, fluffing his hair and sending shivers down his spine.
    Realizing that he was a perfect target while mounted, Duff slipped down quickly from his horse, then slapped Sky on the rump.
    “Get out of here!” he shouted at the animal, but his warning wasn’t necessary because Sky, sensing the trouble, galloped out of the way. The last thing he needed was to have his horse shot out here.
    Bending over at the waist, and running in a zigzag path, Duff got out of the open as quickly as he could, diving for the protection of a little outcropping of rocks. As he did so a second shot came so close that Duff could hear the air pop as the bullet sped by.
    Duff was a big man, but he made himself as small as he possibly could, wriggling his body to the end of the little ridge topped by rocks. Once he was in position he lifted his head to take a cautious look