“We’re all right, Preacher,” Agnes assured him. “We’re just fairly aching to get Bedell and his men in rifle-sights.”
“Aching in more ways than one,” Maude added drily.
Preacher smiled at that. Many a prim and proper Eastern lady would have hidden her face in shame and disgrace after enduring what these ladies had been through. They’d have been to bed for weeks or months, considered themselves soiled for life, and some might have actually killed themselves. But these women were made of sterner stuff. They’d faced assault, rape, and degradation at the hands of white trash and overcome it. Preacher was just as proud of them as could be. These gals were pioneers, by God, and they’d made a man the right kind of wife. The kind of wife who’d stand by her man, shoulder to shoulder. And God help the husband who tried to demean them or worse yet, slap these women around. That husband just might find himself gelded in the morning. Or stone dead.
Preacher nodded at the sisters just as goosebumps were beginning to rise on his flesh. He rode back to the drag, where Rupert was.
“It’s too quiet, Preacher,” Rupert said. “I may be over-reacting, but it’s too quiet to suit me.”
“I know what you mean. You’re learnin’ fast. Yeah. I started feelin’ the same thing ’bout fifteen minutes ago. It’s doubtful the attack will come from the north, but with Injuns you never know. I think they’re up here on a raidin’ party.”
“The Kiowa again?”
“I’d bet on it. But it could be Cheyenne or even Comanch or Dakota. Might even be Pawnee. Doubtful it’ll be Northern Cheyenne. I get on well with them. Course that don’t make no difference if it’s a bunch of young bucks lookin’ for hair to impress the gals.” He tensed. “Get ready, boy. It ain’t long in comin’.”
Preacher slowly rode up to the lead wagon, and, as he passed each wagon, told the driver to get ready to circle and told the other woman on the seat to get in the back and start loading rifles.
When he reached Eudora, he slowed and said, “Get ready to circle at my holler, lady. We are about to be set upon. Cornelia, get in the back and start loadin’ up them spare rifles.”
“Savages, Captain?” Eudora asked, her strong hands filled with reins.
“I ’magine. I ’spect it’s the same bunch that hit Bedell the other night. They was plenty sore about that and it was our bad luck they found our tracks and know we’re a hell of a lot smaller bunch.”
“I’m ready at your signal, Captain,” Eudora replied calmly.
Preacher spotted just the faintest of movement to his left and shouted out, “Circle!”
The Indians came on foot at first, the second wave on horseback, rising out of the deceptive country.
“Jesus!” Preacher said. A second’s look was all it took to tell him they were in big trouble. This was no small war party. This looked to Preacher like the whole goddamn tribe!
2
A big, screaming brave came straight at Preacher. Preacher stopped him cold by firing his Hawken one-handed into the Kiowa’s chest at almost point-blank range. The big ball slammed the Indian backward and into another brave. Both of them hit the ground and Preacher whirled his horse and jumped him into the circle of wagons. He left the saddle and jerked out both pistols, running to the side of Faith and Gayle. Then he began firing his pistols just as fast as he could cock and work the complicated triggers. That first thunderous volley, and how quickly the second and third volleys followed, must have frightened the Indians, for they broke and ran for cover. Preacher, his pistols empty, grabbed up a rifle and very nearly took the head off of a brave just as he was heading for cover, a good two hundred yards away.
“Good shooting, sir!” Rupert said.
“Not really,” Preacher replied without looking up, as he was quickly reloading. “I was aimin’ for the middle of his back, not his head.”
“What tribe, Preacher?” Faith asked, looking at the dead through cool eyes. She had toughened just like the rest of the ladies.
“Kiowa. And they’re just a tad off of where they usually hunt and fight. Something’s got them stirred up. See that dead brave there. That long thin mustache. I had been told the Kiowa of a long time ago wore face hair like that. So he’s probably a chief or sub-chief or some other important man in the tribe. That’s good for us…for a time. Now they got to mourn, dance and sing, and elect a new man to replace him. Well, we’re here for a spell, so break out the food and coffee. We might as well be full and comfortable. We’re gonna have a wait.”
Preacher took that time to have half the women start unhooking the mules and getting them into the center of the small circle, while the other women stayed on guard. The animals were watered and fed. Preacher made sure that every available rifle and pistol was loaded, and he double-shotted many of the pistols. For he knew that it was a certainty some of the Kiowa would get inside the circle of wagons and, by using double-shot, he increased the chances of a killing shot.
Preacher also knew that there was no way such a small band could withstand a determined charge by the Indians. They were outnumbered ten or twelve to one and they only had one thing going for them: lots of weapons.
Preacher took a look around him. The circle of wagons was so small in area, the backs of the people were only a few yards from pushing up against the butts of the mules.
“It’s bad, isn’t it, Captain?” Eudora asked softly.
“I won’t kid you, lady,” he replied. “It’s real bad. We was damn lucky the first time around. We got ample weapons agin their arrows, and that’s about the only good thing about this whole shebang, ’ceptin’ our location, which couldn’t be much better. At this point on the trail, we’re practically sittin’ in the river, so they can’t come at us from the rear. The country’s wide open all around us. Our water barrels is full and there ain’t nobody hurt…yet,” he added sourly.
“I’ve heard the savages use fire arrows.”
“For a fact. And they’ll do it, too. That’s why I had y’all doin’ all that practicin’ weeks back. We hurt them during that first charge. They’ll have to think about that for a time. If we can hurt them that bad the next time, they just might say to hell with it and pull out. An Injun is not goin’ to fight no losin’ battle.”
“We are too few in number to fight both the savages and a burning wagon,” Eudora pointed out.
“For a fact,” was all Preacher had to say.
The air was suddenly filled with arrows, seemingly coming out of nowhere, for not a single Kiowa could be seen. Two mules were hit, one seriously and the other hurt only slightly. When the barrage of arrows stopped, Preacher put the badly wounded mule out of its pain while Eudora applied salve to the other mule’s slight wound.
“You make war against defenseless animals!” Preacher shouted out in Kiowa. “You are nothing but cowards, fops, and old trembly women. You are not braves. You sleep with boys. No woman would have anything to do with you.” He shouted out insult after insult on the warriors.
When he had finished, a voice called out from the prairie. “Who are you who knows our language?”
“I am Ghost Walker. The man called White Wolf. And I will kill you. I will gouge out your eyes so you cannot find your way after death. I will cut off your hands and feet and leave you helpless against your enemies. I will tear out your tongue so you will be mute for eternity.”
“Preacher is dead. We heard the men from the long wagons talking the other night.”
“Did you find a Kiowa with his throat cut?” Preacher yelled. “I did that. So if I am dead, I am a ghost.” He moaned, loud and long. It was so realistic, most of the women shuddered.
“How can you fight a ghost?” Preacher shouted. “Come on, you old women. Let me show you my powers; powers that I now have after death. My guns will fire ten times more than those in the hands of the living.” To Eudora: “When I fire my pistols, you reload them just as fast as you can.”