“You’re sure it was smoke?” Bedell asked, his spirits lifting.
“Positive. Them savages must have hit them after we run ’em off. Preacher and them women is buzzard bait now.”
Bedell smiled. “Excellent. Very good, boys.” Bedell happily put Preacher out of his thoughts. He gathered the prisoners and told them what his scouts had found. “So there is no point in trying to escape,” he warned them. “You’d be committing suicide. So my advice to you all is just settle down and accept your fate. You cannot change it.”
The shoulders of the women sagged in defeat. That evening, Bedell selected a very young and very pretty woman to satisfy his perverse desires. Her screaming shattered the night for hours.
BOOK TWO
One man with courage makes a majority.
Popular saying.
1
Lt. Rupert Worthington lost his breakfast, and only Eudora Hempstead and Faith Crump had the iron in them to stand with Preacher and look upon the body of the young woman. The other ladies fled the scene and returned to the wagons.
“Bedell’s work,” Preacher said, covering the battered body with a blanket. “Doin’ things like this pleases him. He’s a twisted man. There was all kinds of talk around St. Louie about him. Somebody get a shovel.”
Eudora’s face was pale and her eyes were furious. “It would take a madman to do something this hideous,” she said.
“No,” Preacher disagreed. “Just a man who won’t control himself. Any man that can function, speak proper, dress themselves, work, and step out of the way of carriages, and so forth, ain’t crazy. And I don’t give a damn what these so-called smart people say. Men like Bedell, and anyone who rides with him and stands by and watches something like what was done to this poor child and don’t do nothin’ about it deserve a bullet or a rope. They sure as hell don’t deserve no sympathy.”
“This journey has changed me considerably,” Faith said. “I shall never be the same. I used to deplore the conditions of prisons and jails and the treatment of criminals. I will never again editorialize on that subject.”
“Then you’d be wrong,” Preacher surprised her. “They’s innocent men in prison, Missy. They’d be men behind bars who couldn’t pay their debts because of one good reason or another. Just because a man falls on hard times don’t mean that man should be locked up like a murderer or horse thief or the like. They’s men in prison for defendin’ hearth and home, and that’s wrong. Man has a right to protect kith and kin. I’ll go to my grave believin’ that.”
“I certainly agree with you, Preacher,” Rupert said. “I wouldn’t have a few weeks ago, but I damn sure do now. Like Miss Crump, this journey has changed me immeasurably. I will never be the same.”
“None of us will,” Claire said, walking up. “None of us.”
You can count me in there, too, I reckon, Preacher thought. But I’m afraid ain’t none of you seen nothin’ yet. “Let’s get this child buried, people.”
By the time they finished burying the young girl, with Eudora once more reading words from the Bible and then the ladies singing some sweet church songs, they could only make a few more miles before it was time to prepare for the night’s camp. But Bedell was using every moment of daylight to push on westward. What Bedell didn’t know was that three tough, very angry, and determined mountain men were paralleling him on the north side of the Platte.
Snake, Steals Pony, and Blackjack.
The three had not been back to the site of the attack and they all presumed Preacher had been killed along with Ring, Charlie, and Ned, for they had all seen the others take a lot of lead. The trio of mountain men would have their revenge against Bedell and all those with him. But they would wait until the wagons hit the mountains.
“I’m gonna miss Preacher,” Blackjack said. “As I know you’ll miss Ring, Steals Pony.”
“I will have my revenge,” the Delaware said.
All three men had been wounded, but none seriously. By the time they had found each other, the fight was over and there was nothing they could do except save themselves and see to their wounds.
“I’m glad we’re goin’ back to the high country,” Snake said. “I got me a feelin’ this is gonna be my last ride.”
Steals Pony glanced at him. The Delaware did not make light of such predictions. He had seen too many of his own kind predict nearly to the minute when they were going to leave this world to walk over to the Other Side.
Blackjack said nothing about it. The mountain man had lived with Indians and knew when it was a man’s time to go; a lot of men could predict it…or will it to happen, he silently added. But ol’ Snake had lived a good long life. A hell of a lot longer than most.
Snake told them the agreement he’d had with Preacher, and both Steals Pony and Blackjack agreed that they’d bury him high up.
“We got company,” Snake said. “Ponca. They’re not lookin’ for trouble; they got their families and belongings with them.”
The three men rode over to the small band of migrating Indians and greeted them as friends. An old man peered closely at Snake. “I know you,” he said. “You shared my tepee many, many winters ago. My wife and family were sick and you hunted meat for us. I have never forgotten you. I have news that might interest you. My old friend Preacher has taken up the blood hunt for those who attacked him. I do not know what happened, but it must have been terrible for Preacher to swear such vengeance.”
“When did you hear this?” Steals Pony asked.
“Two days ago. Preacher is leading a small band of womenless people through to the shining waters across the mountains. I always wanted to see the shining waters,” he added wistfully.
“Did you learn where Preacher is?” Snake asked.
“South of the river,” the Ponca said, pointing in the direction of the Platte. “On the trail. East of a huge line of wagons that are driven by very unfriendly men. Stay away from them.”
After the Ponca had moved on, Blackjack looked at his friends. “Well?”
“Well, what, you lard-butt?” Snake asked, knowing full well what his friend was asking.
Blackjack grinned, not taking umbrage at the friendly insult. “Which direction do we head?”
Steals Pony said nothing. He just turned his horse south and rode off. Blackjack and Snake galloped after him, wide grins on their faces.
“Riders coming,” Rupert called out. “Three men, coming from the north.”
The boy is gettin’ good, Preacher thought. He seen them ’fore I did. Preacher squinted his eyes and immediately grinned. That elephant in the middle couldn’t be nobody ’ceptin’ Blackjack.
“Hell, Preacher!” Blackjack boomed as the trio drew near. “We done sang death songs for you, flung praises to the Lord about you, and made up lies to tell about you. Now here you show up alive. Ain’t you got no consideration for your friends a-tall?”
“I purely am sorry you found me alive, Blackjack,” Preacher called. “I do apologize for not dyin’. But on the other hand, I done buried you three in my mind. Now I got to adjust myself to look upon your ugly faces agin. At least you and Steals Pony, that is. Snake’s looked dead for years. It’s gonna be kinda hard to tell when he do pass.”
“If’n I don’t move nor eat for several hours,” Snake said, “you come over and take a long sniff. If’n I’m ripe, then you can plant me, you heathen.”
Steals Pony looked at the old man. “If that is the case, we should have buried you years ago. You haven’t taken a bath in all the time I’ve known you.”