“I did. My wife’s visitin’ her sister up country. You let me wait on these customers and we’ll crack us a jug and talk some, Preacher.”
When the customers were gone, Dave closed the store, and then he and Preacher went into the tavern part and opened a bottle of whiskey, taking a corner table. They had the place to themselves.
“I come east for two reasons, Dave,” Preacher said. “I want to see my ma and pa one more time, and I’m huntin’ a man.”
Dave slugged back a snort and said, “I got a man stayin’ here who acts like he’s bein’ hunted. Funniest-actin’ feller I ever did see. Name is Bedell.”
Preacher set his cup down with a bang. “Vic Bedell?”
But Dave shook his head. “No. But they might be brothers. This man’s name is Chris Bedell.”
“Age?”
“Oh, ’bout fifty, I’d guess. Slender man but well put together. Gray hair.”
Preacher shook his head. “That ain’t the one I’m huntin’.”
“Be that as it may, I don’t trust this gent. He’s got a shifty eye and a sharp tongue. But…he pays hard coin and don’t cause no trouble. Maybe he’s waitin’ on this feller you’re huntin’.”
“Could be.”
“Let me get the girl to fix you up in the best room I got, Preacher.”
Preacher waved that off and Dave laughed, knowing why he was refusing a bed. Took Dave five years before he could be comfortable in a bed.
Preacher said, “You know me, Dave. I don’t care for no feather ticks. I git all smothered up in them things. Too soft. I got to sleep where I can breathe and move around. I’ll pile up in the barn and wait around for a few days. Bedell ain’t no common name.” He told Dave why he was after Bedell and Dave’s face hardened.
“I won’t suggest you callin’ the law, Preacher.”
“Good. ’Cause I ain’t. But I won’t kill him here and bring no trouble down on you. That’s my word on it.”
“Good! Now let’s have us some drinks and then we’ll table up. I got meat and potatoes and gravy, and fresh baked bread and sweet butter and jams.”
“I got a better idea, Dave.”
“What?”
“Let’s eat now!”
7
Preacher stayed close to Dave’s businesses for several days. He kept to himself and away from Chris Bedell. But after seeing the man only one time, he knew it was Vic’s brother. The family resemblance was strong and undeniable.
Chris Bedell kept to his room most of the time, leaving only to check for mail in town every day, and to take his meals, which he did sitting alone in the tavern part of the business. No doubt about it, according to Preacher’s mind: the man was waiting for his brother.
Thunder was getting plenty of rest, food, and care, and Preacher was getting downright lazy, with no Indians to have to watch out for, or grizzlies or pumas. Damn place was just downright borin’.
On the fifth day of Preacher’s stay at the roadhouse, slimy Vic Bedell showed up. Preacher watched from the loft of the livery stable and smiled as the stagecoach stopped and Vic stepped out. His valise was tossed down to him and the stage rattled off. Chris Bedell hurried out and shook his brother’s hand and then the two of them disappeared into the large building.
Preacher was sort of at a loss as to what to do next. He didn’t want to bring no grief down on ol’ Dave’s head, so whatever he did would have to be done away from the tavern. So that meant he had some more waiting to do. He’d already told Dave that he might leave real abruptlike, so Dave wouldn’t get alarmed if Preacher just didn’t show up for mealtime one day.
Preacher waited.
About an hour after the Bedell brothers had disappeared into the hotel, Dave came strolling out to the barn carrying a bundle and set about fiddlin’ with some bridles.
When he knew they were alone, he said, “The brothers has arranged to buy two horses from a local man. They’ll be leavin’ first thing in the morning. They’re headin’ east. They’s some dark woods about half a day’s ride from here. Runs for miles. Used to be highwaymen’s favorite place to force a stage driver to stand and deliver. Here’s food for you. It was good seein’ you again, Preacher. Give my best to all the boys back in the high country.”
Dave walked away and entered his business by the back door. He did not look back. Fifteen minutes later, Preacher had saddled up, packed up, and was gone.
The woods Dave had told him about were dark and dank, eastern woods, not like the timber in the high country. But they’d be perfect for what Preacher had in mind. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with Vic’s brother. But he was equally certain the man knew all about Vic’s dirty dealings. So to Preacher’s mind, that made him just as black-hearted as Vic.
It was bitter cold, but despite that, Preacher’s fire was a small one, just enough to heat food and boil coffee. Preacher was used to the cold and did not wish to draw any attention to his presence by a lot of smoke.
He had picked his ambush point with care and was waiting there at dawn. He still didn’t know exactly how he was goin’ to pull this off. But he knew that it would come to him. He figured it would be about noon ’fore the Bedells reached the woods. Preacher settled in. One thing he had was patience.
Wagons rumbled by, and one stagecoach heading west passed Preacher. Several horsemen rode past, but they rode swiftly, for the woods were not a very inviting place. They seemed somehow evil to Preacher.
“A right fittin’ place for Bedell to meet his end,” Preacher muttered.
When the sun was directly overhead, Preacher heard the sounds of horses. He peeked out of the brush and pulled his pistols. Vic and Chris Bedell were walking their horses through the timber. When they reached the ambush point, Preacher stepped out and leveled his pistols.
“End of the trail, Vic,” he said. “Dismount. The both of you.”
“What?” Chris Bedell blurted, clearly frightened at the sight of Preacher.
Vic just sat his saddle and cussed Preacher.
Preacher cocked his pistols and Vic and his brother fell silent. “Dismount or I kill you both right here.”
“The mountain man you spoke of?” Chris asked.
Vic was so angry he could not speak. He merely nodded his head.
“I am a man of some means, sir,” Chris Bedell said. “A thousand dollars to you if you’ll go and leave us. I think that is a fair offer.”
“You know what your brother done?” Preacher asked.
“Yes. But killing him won’t bring those women back. Take the money, man, and leave us be. I must warn you, sir, I am a man of importance in this state. Harming me would ensure a noose around your neck.”
The woods seemed to grow colder and Preacher felt a dark anger seize him in a hard grip. He thought of Snake, of Charlie and Ned and Ring. Of the bodies of the women, raped and abused and tortured, lyin’ cold in the ground. The boys and girls buried in the lonesome. The brave soldiers all dead. Hammer galloped through his mind, wild and free. He just could not believe what the older Bedell was saying. How could anyone cloak over what Vic had done?
“You know all that your brother done and you want to defend him?” Preacher’s words were hard-spoken, choked with emotion. “You’re as sorry as your no-count brother.”
“We’re brothers!” Chris Bedell said. “Blood is thick, mountain man.”
“Not none of yours,” Preacher said. “Bedell blood is tainted. You’re both evil.”
Chris Bedell cursed, then grabbed for a pistol and Preacher drilled him clean, the ball dead-centering the man in the chest. Chris’s horse panicked and the horse charged into the trees. Chris’s foot was hung up in the stirrup and horse and man disappeared into the woods. Vic spurred his horse and Preacher dropped his pistols and leaped forward, dragging the man from the saddle.
Preacher did not know how long he took or how many times he struck Vic Bedell, but when he finally let the man fall, Vic Bedell was dead. Preacher had beaten the man to death with his fists. The mountain man stood for a moment by the side of the dark road, his chest heaving. He caught his breath and gathered up his pistols, then dragged Vic’s body into the cold timber and dumped him several hundred yards from the road. He stripped saddle and bridle from Vic’s horse and turned him loose. Preacher found Chris Bedell—what was left of him after having been dragged for hundreds of yards—and left him where he lay, a bloody heap of rags and torn flesh in a shallow depression. He found Chris’s horse and freed the animal of saddle and bridle and whacked him on the rump, sending him galloping off. He took all papers and wallets from the men, not checking the contents.