coach, but it was obvious that it was meant to be a warning shot only.
“I guess we’d better do as they say,” Falcon said, opening the door.
“Mr. Billings, do something,” Jimmy whispered.
“Do something? What do you mean do something?”
“You know, like when you was down on the Pecos with Falcon MacCallister,” Jimmy said.
“That was—uh—a long time ago,” Billings said. “I think this gentleman is right. We should do what they say.”
The four passengers stepped out of the coach, then stood on the road.
“Driver, throw down your pouch,” one of the bandits ordered.
“What do you want the pouch for? There ain’t no money in it,” Sam called back. “Can’t you see that I ain’t even got a shotgun guard with me? I ain’t got nothin’ for you to steal.”
“Then climb down from there. We’ll take what we can from the passengers.”
“Mr. Billings, there’s just two of them,” said Jimmy.
“They have guns,” Billings answered, his voice shaking with fear. “I think the smartest thing to do is to do just what they say.”
“If you robbers know what’s good for you, you’ll leave before it’s too late,” Jimmy said. “Mr. Billings used to ride with Falcon MacCallister.”
One of the two stagecoach robbers laughed out loud. “Ha! You been tellin’ the boy tall tales, have you, Billings?”
“Please, don’t hurt us,” Billings said. “Just take what you need and go.”
“I think you boys are going to find that this wasn’t a very good idea,” Falcon said.
“Not a good idea, huh?” one of the bandits said. “And why do you think that?”
“First of all, it’s like the driver told you, he isn’t carrying a money pouch. Secondly, you aren’t going to get one cent from any of us, and third, if you don’t do what I tell you to do, you could get killed,” Falcon said.
“Mister, maybe you ain’t noticed, but we’re both holdin’ guns, and you ain’t.”
In a draw that was so fast as to be a blur, a gun suddenly appeared in Falcon’s hand.
“Now I’m holding a gun as well,” Falcon said.
“What the hell?”
“Bring your guns over here and put them in the boot of the stage,” Falcon said.
“Mister, this here gun cost me twelve bucks, I ain’t goin’ to—”
The protest was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. A little spray of red mist flew from the earlobe of one of the bandits.
“Ow!” the bandit shouted, slapping his hand to his ear. “You shot my ear off!”
“No, I just clipped your earlobe,” Falcon said. “If I had wanted to take your ear, I would have done so. Now I’m only going to say this one more time. Bring your guns over here and put then in the stage boot.”
Meekly, both bandits complied with Falcon’s request.
“Take your boots off,” Falcon said.
“Why do you want us to do that?”
Falcon didn’t answer. Instead, he just made a motion with his pistol.
Reluctantly, the men sat on the road, then took off their boots. The socks of both men were full of holes.
“Bring them over here and put them with your guns.”
“Mister, I only got me them one pair of boots,” one of the would-be robbers said. “Without them boots, I ain’t hardly goin’ to be able to get around none a’tall.”
“You should’ve thought of it before you came up with a plan to hold up the stage,” Falcon said. “Be thankful that I’m planning on letting you go instead of taking you in town to jail or, better yet, killing you. Now, get, both of you.”
“Get? Get to where?” one of the robbers asked.
“I don’t care where,” Falcon said. “Just don’t try to sneak back, because if I see you on this road again, I’ll shoot you.”
“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” the smaller of the two said. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This was a dumb fool thing to do in the first place.”
The driver laughed as they watched the two bandits limp away on stocking feet.
“I tell you the truth, Mr. MacCallister,” he said. “That’s ’bout the funniest thing I ever seen.”
Billings looked sharply at the driver. “What—what did you call him?”
“I called him MacCallister. Falcon MacCallister,” Sam said. “You mean you folks ain’t introduced yourselves yet?”
“Y—you’re Falcon MacCallister?” Billings asked in a weak, choked voice.
