Thunder of Eagles

Chapter Fifteen

Saturday morning, a large banner was stretched across Higbee Avenue.

DANCE TO NIGHT!

MORNING STAR HOTEL

Come one, come all

The musicians had come to La Junta by train from Denver; then arrangements were made for them to have a special stagecoach that would take them to Higbee. They arrived in Higbee just after noon, with their instruments securely lashed to the top of the stage.

The arrival created a great deal of excitement as children and dogs met the stage at the edge of town, then ran alongside it as the coach came the rest of the way. Occasionally, one of the children would run up very close to the stage and poke a stick into the whirling wheels, laughing as the stick was jerked from his hands and thrown back onto the road.

By the time the coach reached the Morning Star Hotel, several of the townspeople had gathered as well to watch the musicians disembark.

“Careful with that violin, my good man!” one of the musicians called up to the top of the stage when an eager onlooker took it upon himself to help.

“With the what?” the would-be helper replied.

“With the…fiddle,” the musician said.

“Oh, hell, don’t worry ’bout that. I ain’t goin’ to drop it or nothin’.”

The musician cringed as the fiddle was handed down to him. Soon, all the instruments were off-loaded and the band was met by Mayor Charles Coburn.

“Welcome, welcome, gentlemen, to Higbee,” Mayor Coburn said, extending his hands to all of them. “We have a nice lunch prepared for you, and have rooms for you here in the hotel. Which one of you is Edwin Mathias?”

“I am Edwin Mathias.”

The man who answered was a tall, very dignified-looking man, with a neatly trimmed beard and a touch of gray at the temples.

“Ah, good, good, you are the one I have been corresponding with, I believe. Do you have any questions?”

“If you don’t mind, I would like to see where we are to perform tonight,” Edwin said.

For a moment, the mayor looked confused. “Perform? Uh, Mr. Mathias, you do understand that you aren’t actually going to perform, don’t you? You have been hired to provide music for a dance.”

“Mayor, I am a professional musician,” Edwin said. “Indeed, we are all professional musicians.” He took in the others with a wave of his hand. “Do you think for one minute that providing music for a dance isn’t performing?”

“I—I suppose if you put it that way,” Mayor Coburn said.

“Good, then we are in agreement.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose we are,” he said. “Well, come with me then, and I’ll show you the ballroom.”

Edwin and the other musicians followed the mayor into the hotel, where they were greeted by the concierge and the desk clerk as well as several others.

“I must tell you, Mr. Mathias, this annual dance is the highlight of our social life.”

“Social life,” Edwin repeated, and though he didn’t slur the words, there was an implied degree of condescension in the tone of his voice.

“Yes, sir, social life,” the mayor repeated. “Oh, I’ll admit, Higbee doesn’t look like much now, but we’ll be havin’ our own railroad through here soon. And once that happens, we’ll grow like weeds. I’ve seen it happen time and time again.”

“Yes, of course,” Edwin said. “Please forgive me, Mayor, I didn’t mean to be patronizing.”

“That’s all right. I know people who see Higbee for the first time, and who don’t know ’bout the railroad, don’t really understand. But you might be interested in knowing that we already have a famous musician living right here among us. I’ll admit, she hasn’t been here very long, but she’s here now, and that’s all that counts.”

“Oh? And who would that be?”

“Rachael Kirby,” Mayor Coburn said.

Edwin had turned away from the mayor to walk over and examine more closely the platform upon which they would be performing that night. He had asked the question without any real curiosity, because he was certain that the “famous” musician the mayor was about to name would be of no interest to him.

But when he heard the name Rachael Kirby, he stopped and turned back toward the mayor.

“Who did you say?” he asked.

“Rachael Kirby. She plays piano in the Golden Nugget Saloon.”

“Are you sure it is the Rachael Kirby?”

“Aha!” the mayor said with a broad smile spreading across his face. “So you have heard of her?”

“If she is the person I’m thinking of, yes, I have heard of her,” Edwin said. “But I don’t understand. What is Rachael Kirby doing in a place like this?”

“I told you, she’s playin’ the piano.”

“What I mean, my good man, is, how did the likes of Rachael Kirby wind up in a—a—” He searched for a word, then shook his head. “Place as small as this,” he concluded.

“The way I heard it, she was with a group of players, some acting company called J. Garon or something like that. Well, sir, this fella Garon took all the money and ran away, leaving all his actors stranded.”

“But, Rachael isn’t an actor,” Edwin said. “She is a pianist.”

The mayor laughed and pointed at Edwin. “You know, that’s a funny thing,” he said. “That’s exactly what she calls herself. She says she’s a pianist, not a piano player. Can you believe that?”

“Yes, Mayor,” Edwin said. “I can believe it.”

Edwin’s knees felt weak and his stomach turned. He’d had no idea he would ever run into Rachael Kirby again. Especially not in a tiny town like Higbee, Colorado.

Rachael was playing the Fantasie in C Minor by Mozart. Falcon was seated at one of the tables, enjoying the music while eating a ham sandwich and drinking a beer. There was a spattering of applause when she was finished. Then, after acknowledging the applause, Rachael walked over to Falcon’s table.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked.

Falcon stood quickly and pulled out a chair for her. “It would be my pleasure,” he said.

“When did you last hear from Andrew and Rosana?” Rachael asked.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Falcon said. “In fact, they came out to Colorado to give a performance at the Broadmoor for Count James Pourtales.”

“Well, I’ll bet they enjoyed that,” Rachael said. “Seeing you again, and returning to the West they both love so.”

Falcon chuckled.

“What is it? What is so funny?”

“I’m not sure they ‘love’ the West all that much. They have spent their entire adult life in New York. Plus, there was another little factor involved.”

“Another factor?”

“They were taken hostage and held for ransom,” Falcon said.

“Oh, heavens! How awful that must have been for them!”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Falcon said. “But apparently, they took it as one grand adventure. I wouldn’t be surprised if by now they were reenacting the entire experience in daily matinees.”

Rachael laughed out loud. “You know, I think you may be right.”

“Are you going to the dance tonight?”

Rachael smiled. “I thought you would never ask,” she said.

For a second, Falcon was confused. Then he realized she thought he was asking her to the dance. He recovered quickly.

“If you would allow me, I would be happy to call for you and escort you to the dance,” he said.

“I would like that very much,” Rachael said.

“All right. Seven o’clock?”

“Yes, seven would be fine.” Looking around the saloon, Rachael saw that a few more patrons had arrived. “We always get a crowd early on Saturday. I guess I had better get back to the piano. I’ll see you tonight at seven.”

“Rachael Kirby?” a man’s voice said.

Rachael was halfway back to the piano when she heard her name. Turning, she looked at the person who addressed her, then let out a little gasp.

“Edwin Mathias!” she replied. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“My group is providing music for the dance tonight,” the tall, dignified man replied. “I heard over at hotel that you were here, playing in a”—he looked around with obvious distaste—“saloon? I was certain it would not be you, yet here you are.”

“Yes,” Rachael said. “Here I am.”

“May I ask why you are here?”

“Everyone has to be somewhere,” Rachael answered. “I came west with the J. Garon troupe, and when he absconded with all the money, I found myself stranded and in need of a job. This opportunity came up, so I took it.”

“So, the story the mayor told me is correct,” Edwin said. He made a clucking sound, and shook his head. “Rachael, Rachael, Rachael. I could have warned you about Garon. Everyone in the business knows what a crook he is.”

“Apparently, not everyone,” Rachael replied. “I had no idea that the man’s reputation was anything but sterling.”

Seeing that Falcon was following the conversation between the two of them, Rachael stepped back toward the table. “Edwin, I would like you to meet a friend of mine, Falcon MacCallister. Falcon, this is Edwin Mathias.”

Falcon stood and extended his hand.

“MacCallister,” Edwin said. “Would he be any—”

“He is their brother,” Rachael said, answering Edwin’s question before he finished asking it.

Edwin smiled and dipped his head slightly. “If you are the brother of Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister, then it is certainly my honor and privilege to meet you, sir.”

“The honor is mine,” Falcon said.

“Falcon, Edwin and I are old…friends,” Rachael said, setting the word “friends” apart from the rest of the sentence. “We have performed together many times.”

“Well, by all means, have a seat, Mr. Mathias,” Falcon invited. “I’ll just get out of your way here. I’m sure you two have much to talk about.”

“You needn’t leave, Falcon,” Rachael said.

“I was about to leave anyway,” Falcon said. “I need to buy a new shirt for the dance tonight.”

“Then I will be seeing you again, sir?” Edwin said.

“Yes,” Falcon replied.

“Very good, I shall look forward to it.”

As Falcon left, he glanced back to see that Rachael and Edwin were already engaged in serious conversation. From the tone of their voices, and the way they behaved toward each other, he got the idea that their past acquaintance was more than just casual.

“I was afraid I would never see you again,” Edwin said after Falcon left.

“It might have been better if you hadn’t,” Rachael said.

“Rachael, please, don’t be that way. You have no idea what I went through when you left.”

“What you went through?” Rachael said. “Edwin, may I remind you that you did not come to my apartment and catch me with a man. It was I who caught you with a woman.”

“But she meant nothing to me, Rachael. Can’t you understand that? She—she came up to me after the performance that night—she was an outrageous flirt. At first I was just flattered by the attention. Then—”

“Please,” Rachael said, interrupting him. “I don’t want to hear all the details.”

“All right,” Edwin said. He sighed. “I wish you were as pleased to see me as I am to see you. I did read the reviews. Rachael, the critics loved us. We could have had it all, the season in New York, the European tour. It was there for us—and we just threw it away.”

“We threw it away?”

“Well, all right, I threw it away,” Edwin said. “But if you had just been a tiny bit more tolerant. I would have made it up to you, Rachael. I swear to you, I would have made it up to you.”

“Your beer, sir,” Corey said, bringing the mug over to the table at that moment.

“Thank you, my good man,” Edwin said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Edwin, must you always be so pompous?” Rachael asked. “He isn’t your ‘good man.’ He is the owner of this establishment, and he is my boss.”

“I see,” Edwin said. He looked around the saloon. “You call this an establishment, do you? If you call it an establishment rather than a saloon, does that make it seem a bit more palatable for you to be playing piano in such a place?”

“If I ever wondered what happened to us, I need only to spend a few minutes with you,” Rachael said. “And who are you to criticize me? Here you are, playing for a square dance in a hotel, not performing in a concert theater.”

Rachael started to get up from the table, but Edwin reached out for her.

“Wait, please,” he said.

Rachael looked down at him.

“Please,” he said again. “Another moment?”

Rachael sat down again.

“I’m sorry,” Edwin said. “You are right, I am playing music for a square dance and I am a little pompous.”

“A little pompous?”

“A lot pompous,” Edwin corrected with a smile, and Rachael smiled with him.

“What a joy to see a smile on your beautiful face,” Edwin said.

“Don’t think that it means anything,” Rachael said. “Because it doesn’t.”

Edwin sighed. “Is it MacCallister?”

“What?”

“MacCallister, the man I just met. The brother to Andrew and Rosanna.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Of course you know what I’m talking about. Are you in love with this man MacCallister?”

Rachael hesitated.

“My God, you are, aren’t you?” Edwin ran his hand through his hair, then sighed. “Well, I should have known better than to think you would just still be out there somewhere unattached.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Rachael said. “I confess that I find him fascinating. Do you know that they actually write adventure novels about him?”

“Adventure novels?”

“He is quite a daring figure,” Rachael said. “They say he has faced death many, many times.”

“But you aren’t in love with him?”

Rachael shook her head. “No, I’m not in love with him. And it is for sure that he feels nothing more than friendship for me.”

“Good, good, then there is a chance,” Edwin said.

“No, Edwin. There is no chance.”

Edwin smiled. “I won’t take that as an answer.”

“Edwin, what are you doing out here anyway?” she asked. “The last I heard, you were going to Europe on a grand tour of the continent.”

Edwin shook his head. “I didn’t go,” he said.

“It’s obvious you didn’t go, because you are here. My question is, why didn’t you go?”

“The maestro thought it better that I not go.”

“But why would he think that? Edwin, you are generally acknowledged to be one of the best violinists in the business.”

“At the risk of being ‘pompous’ again, I agree with you,” Edwin said.

“Then what happened? I mean, what really happened?”

Edwin took a sip of his beer, then set the mug down. “The maestro’s wife,” he said.

“Lucinda?” Rachael gasped. “My God, Edwin, please tell me you were not being indiscreet with Lucinda.”

“It was more her doing than mine,” Edwin said quickly.

“Well, now, that I can believe. Lucinda is the biggest flirt in the business. Everyone knows that she has an eye for men. For any man,” Rachael said. “I just can’t believe that you were foolish enough to fall into her trap. No, wait, as I recall, you seem to have a problem in that department as well.”

“Rachael, you aren’t being fair,” Edwin said. “You had just left and I was feeling—”

“Oh, no, you aren’t going to blame that on me,” Rachael said, interrupting him.

Edwin shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. It’s just that I was depressed, and I wasn’t as smart, or diligent, as I should have been.” He sighed. “So now, instead of playing the violin in a concert orchestra, I’m playing…the fiddle for barn dances.” For the last five words he abandoned his normal cultured enunciation for a Western twang. He laughed. “Could you ever imagine me—a’playin’ the fiddle?”

Rachael laughed with him, then reached across the table to put her hand on his. “I don’t mean to laugh, Edwin. But I am glad that you can laugh at yourself. And I must confess that I think I could like the fiddle player more than I like the concert violinist.”

“If we couldn’t laugh, we would surely cry,” Edwin said. “I do not believe that it is mere coincidence that the symbol for thespians is two masks, one with a laughing face and the other with a crying face. When you think about it, we could be in the grandest theaters in Europe, performing before kings and queens, but circumstances”—he paused, then nodded—“of my own making, to be sure, have put us here in Higbee playing in a saloon and a hotel lobby—casting pearls before the swine, so to speak.”

“Or bringing culture to a grateful audience,” Rachael suggested.

“Oh, my, I was getting pompous again, wasn’t I?”

Rachael nodded.

“I must work on that,” Edwin said. He stood. “If you will excuse me, I have to meet with my—orchestra.”

“I will see you tonight,” Rachael said.