store.
That was when he saw too that the hardware store was also an undertaker’s parlor.
The body in one of the coffins was a woman. Her blond hair was neatly combed, and she was wearing a lavender dress. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and she was holding an artificial rose. There was a bullet hole under her left eye.
The other body was wearing a pair of overalls, with the bottom of one leg tied in a knot, showing that one leg was missing. He too had his arms folded across his chest and he was clutching a Colt pistol in one of his hands. Although the undertaker had done what he could to clean the wound, it was easy to see how he died, because there was a purple hole in his chest.
Neatly lettered signs identified each of the bodies. Under the woman’s body the sign said SUZIE FORD. Under the man’s body the sign said PONCI ELLIOT.
Ponci Elliot was one of the men Falcon was looking for. “Where is the sheriff’s office?” Falcon asked a man standing next to him.
“It’s right down there across from the bank,” the man answered. “You need to see the sheriff ?”
“Yes.”
“Well, his name is Meeker. Sheriff Meeker, and if you go on down there, why, like as not you’ll find him sittin’ in his office reading dime novels.”
“Thanks,” Falcon said.
Falcon stayed on this same side of the street until he reached the bank, then crossed over to the sheriff’s office. When he pushed the door open, the room was filled with the aromatic smoke of the sheriff’s pipe tobacco. The sheriff, a middle-aged, overweight man, was sitting at his desk puffing on a pipe, and reading a dime novel.
“Sheriff Meeker?” Falcon said as he stepped inside.
The sheriff looked up. “That’s me,” he said. “Can I help you?”
“I hope you can. What can you tell me about the two bodies that are on display down at the hardware store?”
The sheriff put the book facedown on his desk, then stared at Falcon with eyes that showed some curiosity as to why Falcon might be interested. He put that curiosity into words.
“Why do you want to know about them?” he asked.
“Because the man, Ponci Elliot, was riding with Fargo Ford, and I’ve been after him. Well, I’ve been after all of them actually. Fargo Ford, Ethan Monroe, Casey Jackson, and Dagen Mendoza.”
“What do you mean, you’ve been after them?”
“They robbed a money shipment back in Calabasas, killing the express agent. The sheriff caught them and put them in jail, but they broke out, killing four men as they did so. Later, they took a young Indian girl off a stagecoach and killed her.”
Sheriff Meeker shook his head slowly and let out a low whistle.
“They’ve been busy, haven’t they?”
“Yes, they have. But I intend to put them out of business.”
“You intend to put them out of business? All by yourself, are you?” Sheriff Meeker said with a chuckle. “And just who might I be talking to? Wyatt Earp? Wild Bill Hickock? Doc Holliday? Or is it Falcon MacCallister perhaps?”
“Yes,” Falcon answered.
“Yes, what?” Sheriff Meeker asked, not quite understanding Falcon’s response.
“Yes, I’m Falcon MacCallister.”
“What?”
“You just rattled off a bunch of names, asking if any of them fit me. As it turns out, one of them does. I’m Falcon MacCallister.”
“The hell you say!” Sheriff Meeker said, standing very quickly. “Mister, you aren’t just fooling with me, are you?” he asked. “You really are Falcon MacCallister?
“Well, I’ll be damned!” the sheriff said. Moving around the desk quickly and displaying a big smile, Sheriff Meeker reached out to grab Falcon’s hand, then began pumping it fiercely. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “Imagine me meeting Falcon MacCallister. Why, I’m reading about you right now, in fact.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yes, it’s all about how you, Jesse James, and Billy the Kid robbed a train back in Missouri. What was it you would always say when you was facin’ down someone with a gun?” the sheriff asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “Oh, yes, I remember now. You would say, ‘Get ready to eat supper in hell.’”
“Yes, something like that,” Falcon replied. He had never used that line in his life, but Sheriff Meeker wasn’t the first person to point out to him that the dime novels reported that he always said that just before shooting someone.
Falcon had long since stopped refuting it, nor did he point out now how unlikely it was for him, Billy the Kid, and Jesse James all to be participating in the same holdup.
“Damn,” Sheriff Meeker said. He laughed. “I really like that line. ‘Get ready to eat supper in hell.’ I may use it someday.”
“Be my guest,” Falcon said.
