Free Eyes of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Page A

stallion for weeks, until the animal became used to Jamie’s touch and voice. Sam and Sarah watched him work and both knew the boy had an almost unnatural ability to handle animals.
    â€œEerie,” Sarah called it.
    Sam agreed.
    The big black had tried numerous times to bite and kick Sam, but never with Jamie.
    Jamie turned out to be a fine horseman, taking to the saddle as if born to it. He could be seen often on the road into town, riding in to fetch something for Sarah. He carried a short-barreled rifle in a saddle boot — a cut-down version of a Kentucky rifle — and kept his pistol in a saddlebag. The carrying of weapons caused no head to turn, for brigands prowled the roads and dark paths of the timber, and Indian attacks were still occurring, although the latter were slowly tapering off as the various tribes were killed off, pushed westward, or breaking apart and attempting to assimilate into white society.
    Jamie had heard that Tall Bull’s band had left the country and gone west. Where in the west no one seemed to know. But Jamie had not forgotten Deer Woman’s dire prediction: “Someday Tall Bull and Little Wolf will find you. That will be the day when you must decide whether you live or die. And whether you will, or can, kill your father and brother.”
    Deer Woman might have had some doubts as to whether Jamie could kill in defense of his life or loved one. Jamie had no doubts at all.
    Since the day of that terrible fight in the road that passed in front of Sam and Sarah’s land, Hart Olmstead had spoken not one word to Sam, Sarah, or Jamie. John Jackson spoke, but it was forced, and never more than a very terse greeting or farewell. Hart and his boys had stopped attending Reverend Callaway’s church. Kate and her mother still came to Sunday services, and to the occasional singin’ and eatin’ on the grounds, and Kate was rapidly turning into quite the young woman, beginning to fill out in all the right places and turning heads whenever she entered a building. But she had eyes only for Jamie.
    Hart Olmstead had once again stated his objection to Jamie and forbidden his only daughter to see the boy. But Kate paid no attention to the warning and managed to see Jamie whenever he came to town, if only at a distance or to exchange a few words in Abe’s General Store.
    Jamie’s life took on a darker and more dangerous note as the small town in Kentucky began to grow, not always with the right people. Hart Olmstead’s brothers moved into the area, as did kin of John Jackson, and with them they brought several friends, mostly white trash with criminal tendencies. And as is so often the case with trash, they had an army of children, most of whom were, tragically, just as ignorant as their parents.
    â€œApples do not fall far from the tree,” Reverend Callaway remarked over coffee after supper at the Montgomery home. “I fear that our community is rapidly being populated with individuals of less than honorable intent.”
    Jamie said nothing; just listened. Several times in the past few weeks he had been forced to gallop Lightning in order to get away from the growing gang that hung around Jubal Olmstead and Abel Jackson. Those two had dropped out of school and were very nearly men grown. And they were dangerous. Thefts had increased a dozen times over since the new additions to the community had arrived and there had been several men badly beaten and left by the side of the road after being robbed. Two women had been assaulted and raped in their cabins.
    Several men had gone to Sheriff Marwick and warned him that if something wasn’t done to curb the crime, the citizens just might have to take to night-riding.
    Sam Montgomery’s holdings had grow dramatically as farmers whose lands bordered his gave up and moved away, selling out to Sam. Sam now had two men working for him; good Christian men, with families. The community several miles from town