Free Eyes of Eagles by William W. Johnstone Page B

had grown, and the citizens met and voted to start their own town, complete with church, school, general store, and marshal.
    They named it New Town, which in a few years would be changed to Montgomery, and before the turn of the century would be gone, with not even a building standing. Abe Caney built a general store in New Town, Reverend Callaway moved into New Town and a church was built. Gradually, over the months, New Town became a safe haven for decent, hard-working people, while trash took over the old town. They built saloons, gambling parlors, and houses of ill repute, elected John Jackson as mayor and Hart Olmstead as tax assessor of the county.
    Jamie was fourteen years old, looked twenty, and was tree-tall and strong as a bull. He still wore his thick blond hair shoulder length and wore his high-top moccasins. Several times, young men who followed the dictates of Abel Jackson and Jubal Olmstead had made the mistake of challenging Jamie, confronting him on the dark, twisted roads that wound amid a sea of trees. Twice Jamie had been able to outdistance them on Lightning. The last time he had been forced to fight.
    Jamie galloped into the yard and leaped from the saddle, running to the house, startling Sam and Sarah, who had just sat down for the noon meal.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Jamie?” Sam asked, rising from his chair.
    â€œI didn’t make it to the north field, Sam.” As Jamie grew older, the couple had insisted that Jamie call them by their first names. “The gang that Hart’s nephew, Edgar, heads waylaid me. There was a shooting, Sam.”
    Sam asked no questions. He knew in his heart that Jamie had not provoked it; knew that for almost three years Jamie had carefully avoided trouble, ignoring taunts that he, personally, would have killed over. “Ring the bell, Sarah,” he said. “The sheriff and a posse will be along soon, and they’ll be wanting to take Jamie. That will not happen as long as there is breath left in me.”
    â€œWhat do you want me to do, Sam?” Jamie asked.
    â€œCharge your rifle and pistol, lad.”
    Jamie shook his head. “No, Sam. Wait, Sarah. Don’t ring that bell. We have a few minutes; probably more than an hour. Listen to me. There will be a dozen or more men and boys ready to swear that I provoked this trouble. You know that. I don’t know if I killed that fellow or not, but I think I did. It was close range, and my ball was true. The jury will be rigged, and I’ll hang.” Sarah started crying and Sam was trembling with rage. “It’s over here for me.”
    â€œNo!” Sam shouted, his big fists clenched.
    â€œYes,” Jamie said softly. “I’ve been expecting this. And I’m ready for it. Even if I should beat this false charge, those who hate me will never let me live in peace. Not here. I have a place chosen in the dark timber two day’s ride west of here. I’ve food and blankets ready to go in the barn. It’s better this way. You both know it in your hearts. I love you both dearly, but I can’t stay. I don’t want blood spilled over me. The wilderness is my home. I’m as comfortable there as a wolf, a panther, or an eagle. I’ll see you both from time to time. Tell Kate that I love her and to wait for my return. I will be back for her.” He hesitated. “Sam, I will soon have the name of an outlaw. The sheriff, Hart Olmstead, and John Jackson and their kind will have me known as a highwayman. Don’t you believe it.” A twinkle came into his eyes. “Oh, I might take something from them every now and then, to help those they’ve taxed into poverty and the like...”
    â€œJamie,” Sam said. “I ...”
    The young man waved him silent. “I must go. Be sure to tell Kate I will be back.” He kissed Sarah, shook Sam’s hand, and walked out of the house. He did not look back.

    WANTED FOR MURDER
JAMIE IAN