MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy: The Killing Read Online Free

from here. You can ship them back on the train.”
    “Thank you, but I would like to start with a much bigger herd.”
    “How large is much bigger?”
    “I want at least five hundred head,” Duff said.
    Woodson blinked. “You intend to start your herd with five hundred head?”
    “Aye.”
    “Mr. MacCallister, do you have any idea how much something like that would cost?”
    “I think no more than thirty dollars a head. Maybe a little less,” Duff said. “And I can do the math.”
    Woodson smiled. “Well, now. If you are fully aware of the cost of starting a herd with such a number and nevertheless want to pursue it, I’m sure we can find enough cattle for you. How long will you be in Chicago?”
    “I plan to take the train to Cheyenne tomorrow.”
    “Do you have a hotel for tonight?”
    “I do. I will be staying at the Palmer House.”
    “Good. Enjoy your stay there, while I do some research. I will telephone the front desk at the Palmer House and leave a message for you when I get the information you need.”
    “Thank you.”
     
     
    The Palmer House was seven stories high. The room, compared to all the other hotel rooms Duff had occupied, was quite large and luxuriously decorated. It also had a private bathroom with hot and cold running water.
    After taking a bath, Duff went downstairs, and into the barbershop to get a haircut. The marble tiles of the barbershop floor were inlaid with silver dollars. It, like the entire hotel, was well illuminated by electric lights. A wax recording machine sat in the back of the barbershop and one or more of the barbers kept it playing all the time Duff was in the barber chair.
    From the barbershop he went into the restaurant, where he saw Angus steak on the menu, and ordered it. By the time he finished dinner, it was dark but still too early to go to bed, so Duff decided to take a walk around the city. He wound up at the Chicago River and stood there by the bridge for a while, watching the boat traffic.
    “No! Please, no!”
    The voice was that of a woman, and she sounded frightened. The sound was coming from under the bridge, but when Duff looked underneath, it was far too dark to see.
    “Oh, please, don’t hurt me. I am but a poor woman, I have done you no harm.”
    Moving quickly, Duff climbed over the railing of the bridge, then down the embankment.
    “Miss?” he called. “Miss, where are you?”
    “Help, oh please help!”
    Duff started toward the voice.
    “We’ve got one, Percy, don’t let him get away!” a woman’s voice said excitedly. It was the same woman who had been calling for help.
    Duff realized at once that he had fallen for a trap. And in the time it would take others to figure out what was wrong, Duff was already reacting. He knew that where he was standing would make him stand out in silhouette against the reflections off the Chicago River. He moved quickly to step farther under the bridge, and to put the dark part of the embankment behind him.
    “Where the hell did he go?” a gruff voice asked.
    Duff looked toward the sound, using a trick he had learned when fighting on the desert in Egypt at night. By not looking directly at an object, but slightly to one side, a person could see better at night. Duff saw a shadow moving toward where he had been but a moment earlier.
    “Find him, Percy!” the woman’s voice said. “Don’t let him get away!”
    Percy was holding one arm out in front of him.
    “I’m going to cut him up good,” Percy said.
    Duff breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that it wasn’t a gun. He wasn’t armed, and under the circumstances, he thought it would be a lot easier to deal with someone who was holding a knife, than it would be to deal with someone with a gun.
    “I’m over here, Percy,” Duff said.
    “What?” Percy said. He moved quickly toward where Duff had been when he spoke. But Duff had stepped to one side, and he felt, heard, and saw Percy make a wild, unsuccessful swipe with his blade.
    Duff reached