PINNACLE BOOKS

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-one

      Chapter Twenty-two

      Chapter Twenty-three

      Chapter Twenty-four

      Chapter Twenty-five

      Chapter Twenty-six

      Chapter One

      From the MacCallister Eagle:

      Statue of Jamie Ian MacCallister

       To Be Dedicated July 4th

      The noted artist and sculptor Frederic Remington has, for some time now, been busy creating a life-size bronze statue of our founder, the late Colonel James Ian MacCallister. The work was commissioned by the MacCallister City Council and will be paid for by the city of MacCallister and the state of Colorado.

      Governor Frederick Pitkin will be present for the dedication, and will be the featured speaker. Colonel MacCallister’s children will be guests for the occasion, and will occupy positions of honor upon the stage with the governor. It is not mere coincidence that the dedication is to be held on the Fourth of July, for Colonel Jamie Ian MacCallister embodied all that was noble about our country and our country’s founders. Festivities for the event are now being planned.

      Falcon MacCallister read the article as he waited for his lunch to be served at City Pig Restaurant. The youngest son of the legendary Jamie Ian MacCallister, Falcon was the biggest of all his siblings. He had his father’s size, with wide shoulders, full chest, and powerful arms. And, of all his siblings, he had come the closest to matching his father in reputation.

      However, he did have two siblings, the twins Andrew and Rosanna who, in their own field, were just as well known. Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister were, according to a recent article in the New York Times, the “Toast of New York Theater.” They had performed for every president from U. S. Grant to Chester Arthur, missing only James Garfield because assassination had limited his term to seven months. They had also performed for the Queen of England and the King of Sweden.

      But they would not be present for the dedication of their father’s statue.

      That very morning, Falcon had a letter from Andrew and Rosanna, explaining they would be unable to attend because they would be closing one play on the fourth, and opening a new play one week later. Falcon had visited them in New York a few times, had gotten a glimpse of their world, and though he wished they could come for the dedication, he understood why they couldn’t. He was going to have to explain it to his other siblings, and he knew they would not be quite as understanding.

      “Hello, Falcon, it’s good to see you.”

      Falcon looked up from his paper and saw the Reverend and Mrs. Powell. He stood.

      “Brother Charles, Sister Claudia,” Falcon said, greeting his old friends with a smile. “How good to see you.”

      “Please, please, keep your seat,” Reverend Powell said. “It’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it? I mean our town getting a statue of your father.”

      “Yes,” Falcon said. “When I learned what the city council had in mind, I have to admit, I was very pleased.”

      “I have been asked to give the invocation,” Reverend Powell said. He chuckled. “I told them, I’m retired now. They would be better off asking young Reverend Pyron.”

      “I asked that you give the convocation,” Falcon said.

      Reverend Powell smiled. “I thought, perhaps, you did. Though I’m sure there are others who are imminently more qualified.”

      “Nonsense,” Falcon said. “Who better than you? You and my father were very close friends, and, like my father, you were one of the founders of the valley.”

      “I confess, Falcon, that I am both honored and pleased to have been asked to do the invocation. I am very much looking forward to it.”

      “Won’t you join me for lunch?” Falcon invited.

      “Claudia?” the reverend deferred to his wife.

      “We would be pleased to join you,” she said.

      Falcon called the waiter over to take their order. “Delay my order until theirs is ready,” he said.

      “Yes, sir, Mr. MacCallister.”

      “Now,” Falcon said as the waiter left. “Tell me what is going on in your life.”

      “We are about to be great-grandparents,” Claudia said. “Any day now.”

      “Think of it, Falcon. That makes four generations of Powells. What have we loosed on this unsuspecting world,” the Reverend teased.

      The Dumey ranch, Jackson County, Missouri

      As Falcon and the Reverend and Mrs. Powell enjoyed their lunch, 750 miles east, at a small ranch in Jackson County, Missouri, young Christine Dumey had come out to the barn to summon her brother, Donnie, to lunch.

      “Hey, Christine, look at me!” young Donnie shouted at his sister. “I’m going to swing from this loft over to the other one.”

      “Donnie, don’t you do that! You’ll fall!” Christine warned, but, laughing at his older sister’s concern, Donnie grabbed hold of a hanging rope, then took several running steps before leaping off into space. The rope carried him across and he landed on a pile of loose hay.

      “Ha!” Donnie said as he got up and brushed away several bits of straw. “You thought I couldn’t do it.”

      “You are lucky you didn’t break your neck,” Christine scolded.

      “Ah, you are always such a ’fraidy cat,” Donnie said.

      “Mama said we need to wash up for dinner,” Christine called up to him. Donnie was eleven, tow-headed and freckle-faced. At thirteen, Christine was beginning to look more like a young woman than a little girl.

      “I’ll be right down,” Donnie said. He walked over to the edge of the loft and looked out the big window, toward the main house. He saw three horses tied up at the hitching post. “Hey, Christine, who’s here?” he asked. He grabbed onto another rope, then slid easily down to the ground.

      “What do you mean, who is here?”

      “There are three strange horses tied up at the hitching rail.”

      “I