Free Scream of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Page A

want ’em,” the owner told him. “That all right with you, Mr. MacCallister?”
    Jamie shrugged his indifference as to what happened to the personal effects of the dead men. “I’ll take their supplies,” he said. “And the best of the packhorses. The rest of the animals you can sell or give away. I don’t care.”
    â€œThat’s fair,” a man said.
    â€œRat nice of you, Mr. MacCallister,” another spoke up, stripping the guns from Willie Evans while another man tugged off his boots. Willie wore no socks, and his feet were filthy, crusted with dirt.
    Jamie viewed the scene without emotion. After a moment, he turned away and walked to the bar, ordering a drink of whiskey.
    He did not turn around as the bodies were dragged out the back and laid on the cold ground. Jamie lingered for a time over his drink. He finished his whiskey and walked to the stable, to inspect the supplies left behind by the two men who’d gotten away. It was more than enough to last him through the winter. He picked out the best of the horses and repacked what he was taking, which included almost a thousand rounds of .44 caliber ammunition. The blankets of the dead men, although just recently purchased, appeared to have various types of bugs crawling and hopping around in them. Jamie tossed the blankets to the ground.
    â€œYou don’t want them blankets?” a man asked.
    â€œNo. You can have them.”
    â€™Preciate it, Mr. MacCallister. I shorely do. You done us a good turn, so I’ll do you one. I know where some of the gang is winterin’.”
    Jamie waited.
    â€œThey’s a ramshackle ol’ minin’ town just ’crost the territorial line in Colorodee. It’s in the Medicine Bows. Ain’t much to it now; there never was no vein. But that’s where you’ll find five or six of the gang. Gamblin’ and whorin’, I ’spect. I also ’spect that’s where them two that took out of here like their asses was on far went. So you’ll probably be up agin eight or so hard cases.”
    â€œI thank you for the information.”
    â€œLak I say, you done me a good turn.”
    Jamie was gone within the hour. He rode for several hours, reining up often to check his back trail. When he was satisfied he was not being followed, he made his camp in a snug hollow, where he and the horses would be protected from the wind, and spent the night.
    He would head for Colorado at first light.
    * * *
    â€œFind him and kill him!” the man now known as Russell Clay told the Jones brothers. “And when that is accomplished, I’ll have another assignment for you. One that will take you to the West Coast and just might make you both rich beyond your wildest dreams.”
    â€œNow you’re talkin’ like we wanna hear, mister,” Bob said with a smile.
    â€œYour betcha. You just consider ’er done,” Lloyd told the man who wore a muffler across his face and his hat pulled down low over his forehead. The brothers could see only the man’s eyes.
    â€œFine. You know how to contact my man.” Russell turned and walked out of the warehouse. A carriage was waiting for him at the corner.
    The brothers exchanged glances, Bob saying, “We do this thing right, brother, we can get that job out in California. Then we’ll forever shake the dust of this territory out of our boots.”
    Lloyd nodded his head in agreement. “Let’s go find that reporter and get it done.”
    â€œEasy as pie,” the older brother said.
    Together, the brothers walked out into the cold night, killing on their minds.

8
    Jamie Ian was the first to spot the little redheaded beauty sitting on the bench at the stage depot in Valley. He walked over to her.
    â€œCould I help you, miss?” he asked, doffing his hat.
    â€œSure and b’gorra, you could,” Mary Marie said, the Emerald Isle fairly pouring from her mouth.