Watching Eagles Soar by Margaret Coel

stacked it against a pile of chairs in the corner.
    â€œLeonard,” she said, coming up behind him. He swung around, then reared back a little, as if the breeze had just blown her through the door. He started to say something, but she cut him off. “There’s an emergency. Kenny Yellow Plume has a gun on Father John over in the church.”
    â€œWhat?” The man’s face froze in disbelief. “I was just thinking about going over to see if Father John needed help with something.”
    â€œWe don’t have any time.” Vicky hurried on. “We’ve got to get some men and get over there. Kenny called me almost twenty minutes ago. He’s threatening to kill Father John.”
    Leonard started past her, and she grabbed his arm. “I think Kenny locked the front door. He told me to knock.”
    â€œDon’t worry. I got the keys.”
    â€œWhat about the back door, in case he locked that, too?”
    â€œThe back door?” He tossed her a sideways glance. “Yeah, I can unlock it. Let’s go.”
    He pushed past her, and Vicky followed the man across the hall, weaving around the tables, dodging the knots of people. Leonard pulled up at one of the tables, leaned down, and said something to Nathan Birdsong, then kept going. Behind her, Vicky could hear the scrape of Nathan’s boots. A couple more stops, and two other men jumped up. They were a little crowd by the time they got out the door and started for the church, boots scuffling the gravel.
    â€œWe’ll bust through the door and take Kenny down,” Leonard said.
    â€œNo!” Vicky shouted. She fumbled for the scrap of paper in her pocket and started tapping out Kenny’s number on her cell. “We have to distract him first.”
    * * *
    T he ringing phone seemed to startle the man, Father John thought. Kenny Yellow Plume rolled his eyes around the church, as if the phone might be in one of the pews. Finally he reached up and tugged the cell out of his shirt pocket.
    â€œYeah?” he said, still gripping the gun. An absent look came into his expression, and Father John braced one hand on the pew ahead and watched Kenny’s expression dissolve into a half smile.
    â€œWell, the lawyer lady finally got here,” the Indian said, snapping the phone shut and plugging it back into his pocket. “Won’t be long now, Priest. She’s waiting outside the door.” He began moving backward, a slow, unsteady gait. Two feet, three feet, until he’d covered the space between the pew and the door. He was still pointing the gun. Father John watched the black tunnel of the barrel bobbing and weaving at his chest.
    Kenny reached around with his free hand and turned the bolt. The metallic click echoed in the stillness.
    â€œHere I am, Kenny.” Vicky’s voice came from the front of the church.
    The Indian’s head spun sideways, and for a split second, the pistol pointed down the aisle. Father John sprang out of the pew and slammed into the man, grabbing his arm and pushing it upward as the pistol dropped down and skittered over the floor. The double doors burst open and a blur of blue jeans, brown arms, and fists swarmed over Kenny Yellow Plume. The air was filled with the sounds of shouting and grunting. Father John lunged for the pistol and wrapped his fist around the handle. When he looked around, Kenny was belly-down on the floor. Two men were straddling the outstretched legs, while Leonard and Nathan Birdsong were yanking Kenny’s arms behind his back. Someone had produced a belt, which Leonard set about circling around Kenny’s arms. He jammed the end into the buckle and pulled hard as Kenny thumped his head against the floor, a sustained howl erupting from his throat.
    Father John glanced around. Vicky was coming down the aisle, a cell phone pressed against one ear. She stopped beside him and slipped the phone into her jeans pocket. “Police are on