Read Online Scream of Eagles by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online

boot.
    â€œWhere are we going?” Mary Marie questioned.
    â€œWe’re not going anywhere,” Falcon told her. “But you’re going to Valley, Colorado.”
    â€œI am?”
    â€œYou are. Now get in. I’ll see you to the stage.”
    â€œIf you think I’m going to be a kept woman, you are out of your mind!”
    â€œGet in the damn carriage and hush up. Did I say anything about you being a kept woman?”
    The driver was finding all this very interesting.
    â€œNo, but . . .”
    â€œThe MacCallisters own Valley. And everything around it for miles and miles. One of my brothers will sell you a piece of land. You can sew at my sister’s dress shop until you save some money to get you started. Now stop arguing and get in the carriage.”
    â€œMacCallister?” Mary Marie whispered. “You’re? . . .”
    â€œFalcon MacCallister. Jamie Ian MacCallister is my father.”
    â€œDamn sure is,” the driver said. “Looks just like him.”
    Ben F. Washington had exited the hotel and was standing just outside the doorway, listening to the exchange.
    Mary Marie was rendered speechless for a moment, and for an Irish girl, that was quite a feat.
    Falcon picked her up as if she weighed no more than a butterfly and deposited her in the carriage, then climbed in after her. “The stage depot,” he told the driver. He looked at Mary Marie and smiled. “I have a nephew named Jamie Ian the Third. I’ll make a wager that he’ll take one look at you and start walking into trees. By the time I get back to Valley in the spring, I’ll wager that you two will be planning a summer wedding.”
    â€œHah!” Mary Marie snorted. “The day I marry some damn tightwad Scotchman, leprechauns will play the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ on the pipes.”
    Falcon smiled as the carriage pulled away from the hotel.
    â€œHow interesting,” Ben F. Washington said.
    Ben paid no attention to the three burly men standing across the street, watching him intently.

7
    Restlessness gripped Jamie, and he could not winter in the cabin. He headed for Fort Bridger.
    â€œThey’ve been here and gone, Mr. MacCallister,” the commanding officer of the fort told Jamie. “Six of the hardest-looking men I ever saw. They bought enough supplies to last the winter, loaded them on packhorses, and left. I heard one of them call another Waddy.”
    â€œWhich way did they go?”
    â€œStraight north. Into the mountains. Give it up until spring, Colonel,” the officer urged, addressing Jamie by his old military rank. “This winter is shaping up to be a bad one.”
    The officer fought away an urge to back up at the sight of Jamie’s grim smile and those cold blue eyes. “I’ll give it up when they’re all dead.”
    Jamie rested his horses for a day while he resupplied, and then pulled out, heading north.
    Jamie found an old campsite on his third day out and spent some time reading sign. When he finished, he knew a lot more about the men he was after.
    After studying the ground for a time, Jamie could now recognize their horses’ hoof marks anywhere. There were six men, and one of them walked with a limp. None of them appeared to be very concerned about personal hygiene. They had tried to hide the campsite, but either weren’t very good at it or had made only a half-hearted effort to do so. He found part of a burned envelope with the name Terry recognizable. That would be Slim Terry, he was sure.
    Jamie hit the saddle and continued north. He put the Muddy behind him and stayed on the west side of Commissary Ridge, heading for the trading post on the Hams Fork. He was closing the distance between them by several miles each day.
    His friends among the Indians had spread the word about his hunt, and he was not bothered by them. He did wake up one morning to find a new set of buckskins lying beside his bed, and a