“You saw it, barkeep,” Malcolm said. “We really had no choice.”
“He was a good man,” Biff said.
“Ha!” Pettigrew said. “Well, he’s a dead man now.”
“Barkeep, I want you to do a favor for me,” Malcolm said.
“Why should I do you a favor?”
“Because if you don’t do that favor for me, I shall kill one of these ladies,” Malcolm said, pointing his pistol toward Lucy and Peggy. “And here is the interesting thing. I am going to let you pick the one that I kill.” He smiled at the two women, who had been stunned into silence by what they had just witnessed. “What do you think, ladies? Which one of you will he pick?”
“You can’t do that!” Biff said. “I’m not going to choose which one you kill. Are you insane?”
“Insane? No, just curious as to which one you will choose.”
“I’m not going to choose either one.”
“Never mind, I will choose. And after I kill one of them, if you still won’t do the favor, I will kill the other one. What do you think about that? And so, you see, it really doesn’t matter which one you would have chosen, because I will kill them both if you force my hand. And if you still won’t do the favor, then I will simply kill you and find someone else who will do me the favor.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to go find Duff MacCallister and bring him to me.”
“Duff MacCallister? What do you want with him?”
“He is a countryman of mine,” Malcolm said.
“Somehow I have the idea that you don’t want him for a reunion of old friends.”
“Do ye now?” Malcolm said. He laughed. “You are most astute. Now, will you fetch MacCallister for me? Or shall I choose one of these ladies to die?”
“No, no, there is no need for that. I will go.”
“Good for you. You have made a wise choice.”
“And Falcon MacCallister,” Pettigrew added quickly. “Don’t forget to bring him along as well.”
“Aye,” Malcolm said. “Do, please, bring Falcon MacCallister along as well,” Malcolm said. “Mr. Shaw?”
“Yeah.”
“You have a loud voice. Kindly step out into the street and announce that we have two women as hostages. If anyone comes into the pub, we will kill them. If anyone makes a move toward us, we will kill the women.”
“All right,” Shaw said.
“I wonder where Biff is going,” Fred Matthews said as he saw Biff riding away.
“The marshal, he ain’t come out yet,” Lonnie said.
“This doesn’t look good.”
Next door to the saloon was Megan’s Dress Emporium. The proprietor and seamstress was Megan Parker, a very pretty young woman. Mrs. Finley, one of her customers, had just finished trying on a dress and was about to leave when Megan held out her hand.
“No, Mrs. Finley, I don’t think you should leave yet,” she said.
“Oh, dear me,” Mrs. Finley said. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t have a good feeling about it.”
At that moment Shaw came out into the street and began yelling at the top of his voice.
“All you people, hear me now!” Shaw shouted. “We just kilt your marshal! We got some business to take care of in this town and we’re goin’ to stay here till that business is done! Don’t nobody come into the saloon! If you do, we’ll kill you! Don’t nobody make any moves toward us, ’cause we got us two whores in here, and we’ll kill them.”
“Did he say they killed Marshal Craig?” Mrs. Finley asked.
“That’s what he said,” Megan replied.
“Oh, my. Poor Gladys.”
Sky Meadow
“He is Scottish, you say?” Duff asked.
“He is Scottish, all right,” Biff said. “I would recognize the brogue anywhere.”
“I’m sure it is Rab Malcolm,” Duff said. “He is nothing if not persistent.”
“Malcolm, yes, that is his name. I heard the marshal call him that.”
“And you say he has men with him?”
“Counting the Scotsman, there are eight of them,” Biff said. “One of them asked that I bring Falcon back as well. I think they want him as much as Malcolm wants you.”
“Aye, Falcon had spoken of the enemies he has made, and ’twould be like Malcolm’s way to recruit others by using Falcon as his bait. But Falcon isn’t here. He left yesterday, to go back home.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Did ye not say that Malcolm has threatened the ladies if I don’t appear?”
“Not exactly. He threatened them as a means of persuading me to come after you,” Biff replied. “I have kept my end of the bargain, I have come after you. I think that is all that’s needed to keep Lucy and Peggy safe.”
“I would not want to count on that,” Duff said. “Malcolm is a man with fewer redemptive qualities than a bilge rat. I had better go into town and get this settled, once and for all.”
“You forget, he isn’t alone.”
“I think there will be no problem with the others. ’Tis obvious they want Falcon. They hold no animus toward me.”
“Duff, you don’t understand,” Biff said. “People like that don’t have to be angry with someone in order to kill them. They can kill a human being as easily as they can step on a bug.”
“He’s right, Mr. MacCallister,” Gleason said. “You bein’ from a foreign country an’ all, maybe you don’t understand what kind of polecats we have over here. I’ve known fellas that would as soon kill you as look at you. And this here bunch that’s gathered around Malcolm strikes me as that kind.”
“If you have another gun, I’ll go in with you,” Biff offered.
“I’ll go as well,” Gleason added.
“No, I appreciate the offer, but this is my fight,” Duff said.
Chugwater
Back in Fiddler’s Green, Malcolm saw that the men with him were taking advantage of Biff Johnson’s absence by helping themselves to all the drinks they wanted. Malcolm was sitting at the table with Lucy and Peggy, and he wasn’t drinking. And, though he said nothing about it, he was getting concerned that the amount of alcohol the others were consuming would hinder their effectiveness.
“Why do you want Duff MacCallister?” Lucy asked.
“Ye may not know this, lass, but I am a deputy sheriff back in Scotland. And there, he is wanted for murder. That’s why I am here.”
“You are a deputy sheriff, but you robbed a bank and you just killed our marshal,” Peggy said.
“Aye, well, it has gotten a bit—complicated, let us say.”
“Who did Duff MacCalliser kill?”
“He killed the sheriff’s three sons and two of my friends.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“’Tis of no matter to me, lass, whether you believe it or not.”
“You talk just like him,” Lucy said. “But you aren’t like him.”
“What the hell?” Shaw suddenly said, holding up his hand. “Ever’one, be quiet and listen. What the hell is that sound? Do you hear it?”
Everyone stopped talking and, as they did, all could hear the sound. It was a high, skirling sound, underscored by a constant drone.
“’Tis the pipes!” Malcolm said, standing up so quickly that the chair in which he was sitting fell over with a bang.
“The what?” Pettigrew asked.
“The pipes! MacCallister is playing the pipes! Everyone get into position, he’s coming!”
The others moved quickly to get into the positions they had already selected. Malcolm, with pistol in hand, moved to the bat-wing doors and looked out into the street as Pogue and Shaw went about clearing it.
“Get off the street! Get out of the way!” Pogue and Shaw were shouting. “Get out of the street or get shot!”
The pipes continued to play “Scotland the Brave,” which only Malcolm recognized as the incitement to battle. The fact that pipes were being used against him gave him a chill, and though he wouldn’t mention it to any of the others, it frightened him.