do you mean, there ain’t no passengers? This is a stagecoach, ain’t it? How can you have a stagecoach without havin’ any passengers?”
“Drop your guns!” Falcon shouted, suddenly appearing on the road behind Garon, Andy, and Poke.
“What the hell?” Andy shouted. He and Poke whirled around and fired at Falcon. Even as the two bullets fried the air by his ears, Falcon returned fire and both men went down.
“No!” Garon shouted, throwing his pistol down and putting his hands in the air. “No, I give up, I give up! Don’t shoot!”
With the gun in his hand still smoking, Falcon kept Garon covered as he moved over to check on the two men he had shot. Both were dead.
“Them was my pards you killed, mister,” Garon said, angrily.
“I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Falcon replied. “It was either kill them, or let them kill me. And I wasn’t ready to let them do that.”
“What’s your name?” Garon asked.
“The name is MacCallister. Falcon MacCallister.”
“Falcon MacCallister. I’m going to remember that name,” Garon said. “Yes, sir, I’m going to remember it for a long time.”
September 10, 1875
Pagosa Springs, Colorado Territory
“Here you go, Mr. MacCallister, fried ham, fried potatoes, a mess of fried okra, and some pan-fried cornbread,” the overweight waitress said as she put the plate in front of Falcon.
“Thank you, Mrs. Conners,” Falcon said. “It looks delicious.”
“How do you think the trial is going?” Sessions asked. Arnie Sessions, Ben Carney, and Falcon had all testified for the prosecution.
“Hell, there ain’t no question about it,” Carney said. “We got the son of a bitch dead to rights.”
“I learned a long time ago never to second-guess a jury,” Falcon said.
“Yeah, and wouldn’t you know Gilmore would be defending him,” Sessions said.
The trial they were talking about was the trial for Jim Garon. All three had testified this morning, and Falcon was still giving testimony when the court recessed for lunch.
“Well, everyone is entitled to a defense,” Falcon said, and he used a piece of the fried cornbread to corral some of the fried okra.
“The trial is resuming!” someone called from the front door of the restaurant.
Falcon, Sessions, and Carney got up from the table, as did several other diners, all of whom had been in the gallery.
Outside, several of the town’s citizens were streaming back toward the schoolhouse where the trial was actually being held, the town having no courthouse.
“Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye! This court is now in session, the honorable T.J. Hawkins presiding. All rise.”
There was a scrape of chairs across the floor as everyone stood for the arrival of the judge. Judge Hawkins was a large, bald-headed man with a full, sweeping mustache. He took his seat behind what would normally be the teacher’s desk.
“Be seated,” he said.
Again, there was a scrape of chairs across the floor as the gallery took its seat.
The judge looked over at the bailiff. “Bailiff, show the jury in if you would, please,” he said.
The bailiff stuck his head out the door. “The judge has called the jury back in!” he shouted.
A moment later twelve men “good and true” came back into the classroom to take their seats. Not until they were seated did the judge speak again.
“Mr. Gilmore,” the judge said to the defense attorney. “Just before the recess, Mr. MacCallister had testified for the prosecution. Do you now wish to cross-examine?”
“I do, Your Honor,” Gilmore said, standing up from the defense table.
“The court calls Falcon MacCallister,” the bailiff intoned, and Falcon walked up to the witness chair, which was sitting right next to the teacher’s desk, which was being used as the judge’s bench.
“Mr. MacCallister, I remind you that you are still under oath,” Judge Hawkins said.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Falcon replied.
“Mr. MacCallister, before the events we are trying here took place, did you, or did you not, make all of the passengers leave the stage?” Gilmore asked.
“I did.”
“And I was one of the passengers who left the stage. Is that right?”
“That is correct.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I thought it might be safer for the passengers,” Falcon replied.
“Did you? Or did you think it might be better not to have any witnesses to what you were about to do?”
“I thought it would be safer for the passengers,” Falcon repeated.
“During your testimony, I believe you said that after you forced everyone to leave the coach, you later left the coach yourself and came up behind the defendant and the two who were with him. Is that right?” Gilmore said.
“That is right.”
“You shot two of them, did you not?”
“After they shot at me.”
“So you say,” Gilmore said sarcastically.
“Objection, Your Honor, the driver and the shotgun guard both testified to the same thing,” Joe Kincaid, the prosecutor, said.
“Sustained. Jury will disregard defense attorney’s last remark,” the judge said.
“Mr. MacCallister, did Mr. Garon shoot at you?”
“No, he did not.”
“Did he make any threatening act toward you?”
“He was threatening the driver and—”
“Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the questions I ask.”
“Witness will respond to specific questions asked,” Judge Hawkins ruled.
“Mr. MacCallister, I ask you again. Did Mr. Garon make any threatening move toward you?”
“He did not.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Redirect,
