The president’s man swung into the saddle and rode after Preacher and the others.
“It’s going to be a very interesting journey,” a young soldier said.
“Sergeant Scott,” Lieutenant Worthington said, after rendering the young man silent with a hard look, “mount the men.”
3
Preacher and his friends sat their horses in a line on a ridge and stared openmouthed at the scene before them. None of them had ever seen anything like it, and had nothing with which to compare it. Before them there were more women than any of the men had ever seen gathered in one place. And when the mountain men came into view, all the women fell silent and heads turned to look at the mountain men on the rise above them.
“I think,” Steals Pony said as he broke the silence, his voice mirroring his inner shock at the sight of so many women, “that I should prefer to be elsewhere.”
“Well, you ain’t,” Preacher told him. “But I do know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“There must be a thousand females down yonder,” Snake said.
“One hundred and thirty-five,” the president’s man said, riding up behind the mountain men. “With fifteen more due in sometime today or tomorrow.”
“How many wagons?” Charlie Burke asked.
“Sixty-five.”
“God have mercy on us all,” Blackjack muttered.
“There is a female journalist among the ladies, coming along to chronicle the event, the president’s man said.”
“A journal-whichilist to do what?” Ned asked.
“A writer to keep a diary.”
“Oh. Why?”
“It will be printed in newspapers back east.” He smiled. “You gentlemen are about to be famous.”
Preacher grunted. “Stay here,” he told his friends. He flipped the lead rope to his packhorse to Snake. “Hold on to that for me, Snake.”
“What are you gonna do?” Snake asked.
“I’m gonna go down there.”
“You be careful, Preacher,” Charlie told him. “Them females look man-hungry to me. They grab you, you’ll disappear amongst all them petticoats and paint and powder and they’ll wear you down to a shedder. There won’t be enough of you left to bury.”
“You want me to tie you into the saddle?” Steals Pony asked.
“Now, gentlemen,” the president’s man said with a smile. “Those are ladies down there. They were all carefully chosen from hundreds of applicants. Many of those ladies come from fine old respectable families.”
“And some of ’em are bound to have come from whore-houses,” Preacher added. “But that don’t make no difference to me. I got to eyeball ’em all up close.”
“I’ll pray for you,” Blackjack said.
Snake looked at the huge mountain man. “You—pray?”
“I prayed a-plenty when them goddamn Utes had me back in ’31. You can bet on that.”
Lieutenant Worthington and his detachment had ridden up. “You probably antagonized them,” Rupert said. “I was taught that the Utes were very friendly toward the white man.”
“You shore have a lot to learn, sonny-boy,” Snake told him. “Utes is like any other Injun tribe. They’re all notional. Some good, some bad. But an Injun don’t think like so-called civilized white folks do.” Snake looked at the young officer. “You been around many Injuns, sonny?”
“I have studied them extensively,” Rupert said stiffly.
“Uh-huh,” was Snake’s reply.
Preacher rode down the ridge and walked Hammer up to a group of women. The women stared at him, none of them ever having seen anything quite like Preacher.
“He’s a savage,” one whispered.
“I think he’s cute,” another said.
Soon there were women of all descriptions, sizes, and shapes surrounding Preacher. Even Hammer got a little nervous. Some of the ladies were beautiful, others were so ugly that they could stop a rampaging herd of buffalo with one look. There were ladies who were slim and trim and others of more than considerable heft. But Preacher was looking for the boss lady, and he knew there had to be one. Or two.
“You there!” a woman’s voice bellered out from the crowd. “Up there on that wild-eyed looking horse.”
Preacher cut his eyes to a tall and full-figured female all decked out in a black dress. She was comin’ stridin’ through the crowd of women and they was partin’ the way like Moses done the Red Sea. The woman wasn’t no real looker—to Preacher’s eye—but she had her a commanding manner that he liked, and he knew he’d found one of the ramrods of the petticoat train.
Hammer turned his head to stare at the woman and Preacher tightened up on the reins. If Hammer didn’t like somebody, he didn’t draw any distinctions about gender. He’d just as soon bite or kick a woman as he would a man.
“Are you the famous mountain man everybody’s been bragging about?” the woman demanded, staring up at him, hands on her hips. “The one who is going to lead us across the wilderness?”
“I don’t know about famous, lady,” Preacher matched her stare. “But I’ll get most of you across to the blue waters.”
“My name is Eudora Hempstead. And what do you mean by ‘most of us’?”
“I mean that not all of you ladies is gonna make it. And the whole kit and caboodle of you damn well better understand that now. Now gather around and hear what I got to say. But stay out of bitin’ and kickin’ distance from Hammer here. He’s like me; he ain’t the most cordial thing in the world. Now listen up: some of you will quit and try to find your way back. But you won’t make it back; Injuns will grab you and tote you back to their camp. That is, if you don’t give them too much trouble. You aggravate ’em and they’ll just rape you, kill you, and scalp you where you happen to be. If they make slaves of you, well, that ain’t such a terrible life. They’ll work you hard and only beat you occasional. Some of you are gonna die out yonder on the trail from stupid fool accidents, Injun attacks, snakebite, hydrophobic skunks, drownin’. One or two will go crazy in the head and wander off and get et up by a bear. And don’t think I’m funnin’ you, ’cause I ain’t. I’m just tellin’ you like it is.”
A group of men had gathered around at the edge of the crowd of women. Preacher figured they were the ones the president’s man had hired. Preacher picked out two that he was going to unhire right off. One he knew slightly and the other had a shifty look to him. He pointed at the one he knew.
“You, Jack Hayes. Get gone from here and take that ratty-eyed friend of yours with you.”
“I wasn’t hired by you, Preacher,” Jack said.
“No. But you’re gettin’ fired by me. Now hit the trail. If I see you in an hour, I’ll either shoot you or stomp you. Move.”
Jack and his buddy left, but from the look in their eyes, Preacher sensed he’d not seen the last of them. “Jack Hayes is a murderer and a thief,” he told the large group of women. “He’s wanted back in Virginia.”
“He told us his name was Wilbert Dunlap,” Eudora said.
“That proves he’s a liar too.”
“We only have your word for that, Mister Preacher whatever-your-name-is,” a voice sprang from Preacher’s other side.
Preacher turned his head. “Preacher’ll do. Who you be?”
“Faith Crump. I am a journalist.”
And a damn pretty one, too, Preacher thought. Redheaded and green-eyed. A shape that’d cause young men to act silly and old men to weep in remembrance of better days. Them duds she had on was handsewn for her, and fine material they was, too. Preacher knew a little something about ladies and their clothes.
Eudora stepped close and whacked Preacher on the leg, startling him. “Well, I like you, Mister Mountain Man,” she thundered. “You don’t priss around and honey-coat your words. I like that in a person. But don’t you get the wrong idea about me. My man’s waiting for me by the blue waters. You lead, and we’ll follow, right, ladies?” she roared.