“What do you reckon they’ll do if they is with child?” Blackjack asked.
“Women are much smarter than men in such matters,” Steals Pony said. “They know what to do. I think we shall see a lot of walking, running, and other vigorous forms of behavior among the ladies.”
“But that can’t be!” Rupert said. “They must rest and…” He stopped and nodded his head. “Oh!” he had got it.
“I got to talk to them men about something,” Preacher said. “I’ll be back.”
He went to the trussed-up prisoners. “Any of you boys diseased? And you all know what kind of diseases I’m talkin’ about.”
“Go to hell!” a man called Vince said.
Preacher laid the muzzle of his Hawken on the man’s forehead. “If you think I won’t kill you, think again. Now answer my question.”
Vince told him to go commit an impossible act upon his person. Bluntly.
Preacher pulled the trigger. Afterward, there was not much left of the upper part of Vince’s head. The whores all started squalling and several of the men peed in their already dirty drawers.
Preacher moved to another man. He stood over him, reloading his rifle. “You get the same question, toadface.”
The women had gathered around, as did the other men. They stood silently, after looking at the mess that was once Vince’s head. There was not one note of pity in anyone’s eye.
“Lord God Jesus and Mary!” the bound man yelled. “I’ll answer it.”
“Then answer it,” Preacher said savagely.
“As far as I know, nobody was havin’ no problems peein’. Do that answer your question?”
“Probably as good as I’ll get. What’s your name?”
“Louis.”
“Name them that killed the women.”
“You son of a bitch! You keep your mouth shut up tight!” one of the men hollered.
Preacher lifted his Hawken and one-handed, shot that man between the eyes.
“He was one of them,” Louis said, his voice breaking with fear. His face was covered with sweat; it dripped off his chin and onto the ground. “Handsome Dan over there was another one.”
Handsome Dan cussed Louis, loud and long.
“Hang him,” Preacher told Blackjack.
“Now see here!” Rupert said.
Preacher only gave him one look and that was enough to make him decide to shut his mouth and to keep it shut for the duration.
Preacher looked up at the sky. The sun was directly overhead. “Let’s get this here trial over with,” he said. “We got more’un a thousand miles to go.”
4
“This ain’t legal, you ugly bastard!” one of the “soiled doves” yelled at Preacher.
“She’s one of them who helped Bedell torture poor Caroline to death,” a lady named Yvonne Knight said from the crowd. “Her name is Frida.”
“How do you women find her?”
“Guilty,” they called out.
“Any nays?”
There were none.
Orabella, Cecilia, Nancy, and Rexana led the women to the hanging tree and did the deed. The Bedell confederate checked out with a curse on her lips. One of the outlaws fell to his knees and started praying.
“That one who is calling on the Lord did unnatural things to the boys,” a woman named Vesta said. “Horrible, filthy things.”
“How do you find him?”
The verdict was unanimous.
The man was still praying when the noose was slipped around his neck. The praying stopped quite abruptly.
Six women and eight men were hanged that sunshiny afternoon along the Platte River. They were buried in a common grave, dug by those few the women decided, for one reason or another, to let live.
Louis, as it turned out, and that was verified by the whores and outlaws, had taken no part in the raping, had not killed anyone back at the ambush, and had been belittled by his older brother into coming along with Bedell. His brother was one of the dead that was killed during the first volley of shots from the mountain men.
He was sixteen years old, but looked some older, as did many people of that era.
“You can come with us, Louis,” Eudora told him. “All you need is some mothering and salvation.” She pursed her lips. “And maybe a lanyard laid across your stern every now and then for good measure.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Louis said meekly. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” He was ever so grateful to be away from Bedell and what remained of his gang.
Preacher turned to the few whom the women had let live. “I’d a-hanged you right along with the rest of your friends. But the women ran this trial. Now I’m gonna tell you how the cow ate the cabbage. A full report of everything that happened on the trail is going to be sent to Washington, D.C., when we reach the coast. That’ll take some months, so’s you all got time to change your names and live quietlike…for the rest of your lives. ’Cause you can bet the government is gonna put federal arrest warrants out for all of you. Now, you each got a horse and some food. I put your weapons in the saddle boot and bags. You got shot and powder, lead and molds, and caps enough to get you back to wherever the hell it is you’ve decided to go. And it better be far, far away. And you better live real quiet and decent. Don’t you ever let me cast my eyes upon you. Ever! If you follow us, or try to swing around to join up with Bedell, I’ll know it and I’ll kill you personal. I won’t say howdy or good evenin’, or top of the mornin’ to none of you. I’ll just ambush you and then I’ll take your hair and leave you for the buzzards, the coyotes, and the wolves. Rupert?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Start countin’. Loud. When you get to sixty, if any of this trash is still within range, me and the boys here is gonna start shooting. Now, git!”
They got.
Bedell looked at what remained of his gang. Nine men and ten women. He knew that more had escaped the ambush, but they had gotten separated and only the devil knew where they were now. But Bedell knew, too, that the nine men and ten women were the foulest, most evil, and ruthless of the lot. There was nothing they had not done or would not do. To Bedell’s twisted mind, that was a very big plus.
So they had lost a battle. That did not in any way mean the war was lost. Bedell had twenty-odd of the hardest men he could find waiting up the trail, with supplies, guns, and everything else they would need. And the wagons had a long way to go before they reached the coast. Bedell had lots and lots of time and country to once more seize the wagons and the women.
He smiled, sighed, and stretched out on the ground. He needed a bath, a shave, and a change of clothing, but all that could wait. He fell asleep and dreamed of torturing Preacher to death. In his mind, he could hear the man screaming as his life ebbed away.
Just the thought of Bedell making Preacher scream out in pain under torture was something that would have given many an Indian a good laugh. Some of them had tried it. None had succeeded.
The teams were rearranged, the supplies redistributed among the wagons, and on a gray morning, the skies threatening rain, the wagon train, minus a good many of its original passengers, rolled westward. Some of the wagons were left behind due to the sudden decline of occupants.
The women took turns driving and walking alongside the wagons. They wanted a great deal of exercise and absolutely no help in lifting heavy and bulky objects.
Preacher sat his horse off to one side and watched the wagons roll by. Blackjack had taken the point, Snake and Rupert the flanks, and Steals Pony was far out in front, scouting. Preacher wanted to hang back a ways, just to see who might be trying to sneak up or following from a distance.
By mid-afternoon, he was fairly certain those they had set free were not following, and he’d bet that Bedell and his mangy crew had gone on west to link up with his other men.
Preacher knew that he’d meet up with Bedell again. And he also knew that these women would never allow themselves to be taken alive. He had had more than one tell him they never really knew what the phrase “Shoot first and ask questions later” meant. They did now. And any band of Indians who felt this train would be an easy mark were going to be in for a very brutal, and for many, a very fatal surprise.