Rage of Eagles by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-06-13T04:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Falcon had just gone on his watch, midnight till two, when his eyes detected the slightest movement from the direction of the creek. There were no cattle grazing in that area. He waited, watching. There was another movement, off some twenty or thirty feet from the first one. Falcon knelt down, picked up a pebble from the ground, and tossed it against the side of the bunkhouse. That would be all the signal the mountain men would need. They had spent their entire lives living on the edge of danger, and the slightest sound would bring them awake.

Within seconds, the front door to the bunkhouse was cracked open a few inches. Falcon hooted as an owl, then followed that with a nightbird’s call. The door closed quickly, the mountain men picking up on one of the Cheyenne signals for danger.

But there was no way Falcon could signal those in the main house. They would have to come up alert and ready at the sound of the first shot. Falcon had told John about his plans to mount a guard and the rancher agreed it was the prudent thing to do, especially after hearing Stumpy tell of the bunch of hired guns he’d seen riding in.

Out of the corner of his eye, Falcon saw the front door to the bunkhouse open, and three men dart out, a few seconds apart, rifles in their hands. One headed for the barn, another took up position behind the woodpile, and the third bellied down behind the rocks of an old well off on the far side of the bunkhouse.

Falcon heard another nightbird call, coming from the main house, and he smiled. John was up and had seen what was going on. The old Indian fighter had been sleeping very lightly. He would have his family up and the adults ready at rifle slits, Jimmy safe behind cover. His puppy, whom he had named Freckles, cuddled safe with him.

Falcon smiled, thinking, Come on, boys. Hit us with your midnight raid. We’re ready.

Falcon looked very carefully all around him, moving his head slowly, ears straining to pick up the smallest of sounds. There! And there! And over there! The hired guns had managed to surround the spread before one moved at the wrong time and Falcon detected the movement.

Falcon heard Hell snicker softly in his stall. He wouldn’t make a sound if it was someone familiar, so that meant that a mercenary had made his way into the barn. The mountain man waiting in the barn would not give away his position until the first shot was fired outside, or unless the gunhand spotted him, but if the hired gun somehow got into Hell’s stall, he would never leave it alive, or at best would leave crippled, for the big mean-tempered horse would kill him or stomp him.

Falcon waited for the hired guns to make the first move. He didn’t think it would be long in coming, for if one was already in the barn, the rest were almost in position.

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