He passed up several wagons, for the outlaws were busying themselves with the ladies in them, until he came to a wagon that was silent. He peeped in. Gayle Hawkins, Brigitte Wilson, and Bertha Macklin were all trussed up like hogs, with gags in their mouths. Preacher slipped into the darkened wagon.
“Don’t make a sound, ladies,” he whispered. “Not one sound or we’re all dead.”
The women, wide-eyed in shock, surprise, and relief, nodded their heads in understanding. Even in the darkened bed of the wagon, Preacher could see that the women had been savagely beaten. They were all naked and had been used badly. Preacher cursed silently at the brutality of the outlaws and tried to keep his eyes from the bareness of breasts and the whiteness of bruised thighs. He slashed the ropes and the women quickly slipped into britches and shirts and boots.
“One at a time, gals,” Preacher whispered. “It gets real chancy from here on. Follow me and don’t trip on nothin’. Don’t make a sound.”
They almost made it without incident. They had just reached the horses when a guard found the dead man and sounded the alarm. The camp was instantly alert.
“Rider!” Preacher told the women. “Ride like the devil and his demons is after you.”
“They are,” Brigitte said bitterly, and bit her lips against the pain as she settled into the saddle.
Shots were fired from the circle, but Bedell would not allow pursuit.
“No!” Bedell shouted the camp into silence. “We stay right where we are for the night and we’ll mount a party come the dawn. Blundering around in the dark, in unfamiliar country, will just get more of our people killed. Stand down for the night, but double the guards.”
After a moment of hugging and rejoicing among the women, Preacher put a halt to it. “Pack it up and let’s get gone. Bedell will have men out come the mornin’ lookin’ for us. We’ll swing wide around the wagons, then follow the river for a time.”
“For how long a time?” Gayle asked, fatigue in her voice.
“Till I say we stop. Let’s go.”
Preacher pushed the tired group hard for several hours. Then he let them sleep for a few hours, and then rolled them out and pushed them hard for several more hours. Just at dawn, he finally allowed them to stop and make camp.
“Fix something to eat and get some rest,” Preacher told the exhausted group. “I’ll stand first watch and then wake you up, Rupert. It’s not only Bedell and his people we got to look out for, it’s the Injuns as well. We been real lucky so far. But the further west we travel, the more likely that is to change…at any moment. Eat and rest.”
Preacher let them rest for four hours. A slight noise made him quickly turn around. Eudora was up and pouring a cup of hot black coffee. “Get some rest, Captain,” she told him, picking up her rifle. “I’ll stand the next watch.”
Preacher smiled at her and nodded. So complete was his trust in the New Englander that he went right off to sleep and didn’t wake up until the middle of the afternoon.
He opened his eyes and without moving, looked around him as much as he could while lying on his side. Rupert was on guard, and keeping a low profile of it. Madeline was cooking, the small fire built under branches to break up the smoke, and she was using wood that was nearly smokeless. It hadn’t taken these women long to learn. Eudora was sitting with her back to a large rock, a rifle across her knees. Preacher had the thought that Eudora would be one hell of a fine wife…as long as her man stayed true to her. But God help him if he ever strayed.
Preacher stirred and Eudora cut her eyes to him. “All quiet as far as we can see, Captain.”
Preacher nodded and accepted the cup of coffee from Madeline. The women he’d taken from the train the night before had washed up and changed into cleaner britches and shirts. None of the group, including Preacher, were real sanitary and sparklin’ clean at the moment, but they were trying to stay alive, not set records for cleanliness.
Preacher ate some bacon and beans that was flavored with molasses, and some pan bread. The hot food hit the spot. He polished off his meal with another cup of coffee, pulled out his pipe and stuffed it, then lit it up. “Everybody et?” he asked.
Eudora nodded her head and smiled at him. “All except Bertha, Gayle, and Brigitte. I wanted them to rest as long as possible. They had a bad time of it, Captain.” In spite of his ample use of mountain slang, she knew that Preacher had more than the average amount of education for the time and certainly for the place, and could read and write and do sums as well as most. And he could speak better English than he usually did, for he had done so with her. He used what most would consider terribly bad grammar because he could get the same thing said in far less words.
“They’s a better place I recall about five miles further on. It ain’t a bad ride, neither.” He smiled, but the humor did not reach his eyes. “And it’s a hell of an ambush spot.”
Bertha and the others had awakened, and were stretching the kinks out and getting coffee and food. “Y’all eat,” Preacher said. “Then we’ll move to a better spot. But attackin’ the last wagon is out for the time bein’. They’ll now be wise to that trick and cautious.”
“So what will you do?” Bertha asked. “Or rather, what will we do?”
Preacher smiled again. These gals had their dander up now. They were out for blood. God help any of those outlaws who fell into their hands. The outlaw’s death, Preacher thought, would be a slow and painful one. He’d seen personal what Indian women did with prisoners. It wasn’t an experience Preacher had any desire to go through.
“We kill some outlaws.”
“Good,” Brigitte said. She pulled a hunting knife out of a sheath and went to work sharpening it on a rock.
Preacher had him a thought about what she had in mind. He shuddered.
15
Knowing that Bedell and his people would be doubly cautious after Preacher’s raid, he let them alone for this night. It was probably for the best, ’cause the women needed the rest and, Preacher admitted to himself, so did he. He was still not 100%, but he knew he would be in a few more days.
Just before the fire was doused for the night, Preacher ruminated awhile and then stared hard at Faith, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Faith?”
She looked up. “Yes?”
“Your pa is worth considerable, ain’t he?”
“Oh, yes. He’s quite wealthy.”
“Like in thousands of dollars?”
Faith smiled. “Like in millions of dollars, Preacher.”
“Your ma?”
“She came into quite a vulgar sum of money when her parents died a few years ago.”
Preacher nodded his head. “Part of it is comin’ together now.” He cut his eyes to Eudora. “I figure Hempstead ain’t your real name, Eudora. But it’ll do far as I’m concerned. You got in a mite of trouble back east and your daddy bailed you out in the nick of time and sent you west. You reckon they’s any way that Bedell might know who you really are?”
“If he reads the newspapers, yes,” Eudora admitted. “And I see what you’re driving at. I think you’re right. My father is a prosperous man, but not wealthy like Faith’s parents. But both would pay a lot of money to get us back.”
“But only Bedell and Jack Hayes would be in on it. Maybe one or two more. The rest of them scum would be kept in the dark. Bedell promised the women to the trash to do with as they pleased. He wanted the supplies and the mules to use in his quest for gold, and Faith and Eudora for ransom. The men would be more likely to stay with him for the long haul if they had women to use along the way. Bedell planned this out long and hard, and it has damn near worked. So in his mind, we all got to die. Bertha, ladies, did any of you see what happened to Steals Pony, Snake, and Blackjack?”