“What? Oh. Yes. I see your analogy. There is no law out here.”
“Except for survival,” Eudora said gently.
Rupert thought about that for a moment. “It comes down to whose life is more important, theirs or ours.”
“I suppose it does,” Eudora said.
“You should have studied for the law, Miss Hempstead. It might have altered your views.”
“Women aren’t allowed to do that, Lieutenant.” She smiled. “Yet.”
Across the wide inner circle formed by the wagons, the mountain men sat, drinking coffee and talking quietly. “I’d forgot how strange the laws is back in the States,” Ned said. “Plumb goofy, I say.”
“I sure hope that way of thinkin’ never gets past Missouri,” Ring offered.
“It will,” Steals Pony said sourly. “And in our lifetime, too.”
“We been out here too long, boys,” Snake said, stretching out on his blankets with a contented sigh. “We should have gone back from time to time to polish our manners, I reckon. Most of our kind did, you know?”
“Most of our kind will be gone in a few more years,” Preacher said. “Quite a few has done hung up their buckskins and donned fancy pants and is makin’ their way pretty good in California. Rubbin’ elbows with the genteel and livin’ in houses and workin’ in stores and the like. No thank you.”
“What are we gonna do about all that trash followin’ us, Preacher?” Blackjack asked.
“I don’t know,” Preacher admitted. “Way Rupert acted to my suggestion, I reckon we’re just gonna have to let them attack us ’fore we do anything.”
“That’s foolish,” Charlie said.
“So is haulin’ a hundred and fifty women ’crost the damn wilderness,” Preacher countered. “I reckon we all done won the grand prize for foolish. So I’ll apologize now for gettin’ you boys in this mess.”
“We came along because we wanted to, Preacher,” Steals Pony said. “Besides, what else did any of us have planned?”
“Yeah,” Blackjack said. He looked over at Preacher and smiled. “I knowed what you was doin’ back yonder in my camp. I just played along with you. I think we all done earned the right to act foolish if we want to.”
“I personal think we’re doin’ the right thing,” Snake said. “Hell, I helped open up this country. It’ll be fun to see it all again.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Cause I ain’t gonna git another chance,” he added mysteriously.
“All this talk ain’t givin’ us no answers ’bout what to do with them followin’ us,” Charlie said. “And I shore don’t like the idee of waitin’ for them to attack us. That purely cuts agin the grain far as I’m concerned.”
Preacher drained his coffee cup and tossed the dregs to one side. “Well, boys, I think I’m sorta in a jam. In one way I’m in charge of this fool’s parade, but on the other hand, the army is in charge.”
“Now we are in trouble,” Blackjack grumbled.
Preacher smiled. “How old was you when you first come out to the wilderness, Blackjack?”
The big man grunted. “You do have a point. A lot younger than Rupert, that’s for sure. Surely he ain’t as dumb as he sounds ’bout half the time. You know, it sure seemed back then like we knew a lot more about livin’ than he appears to.”
“We did,” Charlie agreed. “These young folks nowadays…I don’t know about ’em. Seems like they ain’t got no respect for their elders. You can’t tell ’em a damn thing. They know it all. Country’s goin’ to hell in a handbasket, way I see it. Why, I heard from my sister back home two, three years ago, and she told me the kids are a-sparkin’ each other at a mighty young age nowadays.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “It’s pitiful. Morals has gone to hell.”
“You mighty right ’bout that,” Snake said.
Blackjack grinned. “I come out just ’fore you did, Preacher. Wasn’t it grand?”
“It was, for a fact.” And that got the men off spinning tall tales far into the night. Why, it was at least 8:00 P.M. before they wound down and hit the blankets.
Preacher heard the first drops of rain begin falling just about midnight, he figured, and pulled his robe over him more snugly. The Delaware had said before the men retired that it was going to rain for two or three days. Up to this point there had been only a few brief showers that didn’t last too long. Now the ladies were going to see a mighty soggy trail.
“Walk!” Faith said, standing in the downpour, hands on her shapely hips. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“Probably,” Preacher told her. “I’m here, ain’t I? But you still gonna walk.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I ain’t gonna put no more strain on them mules and oxen than needs to be, that’s why. Look at them ruts yonder, Missy. They’re deep and gonna be a lot deeper ’fore the day’s done. The ground’s already soaked. Look at them clouds behind us. This is one of them storms that’s comin’ out of the east. And they’re always bad. We’re gonna have rain for about three days.”
“Who says so?”
“Steals Pony. That’s who.”
“That’s ridiculous! Nobody can predict the weather with any degree of accuracy.”
“The Delaware can.”
“Poppycock and balderdash!” She stamped her little booted foot and it sank about ankle deep.
“It’s rainin’, ain’t it? You can’t deny that. Just like he said it would.”
“We will all catch pneumonia and perish out here!”
“Naw. It’s unnatural warm for this time of year. You’ll just get wet, is all. You’ll dry out.” He grinned. “Get a bar of soap and take a bath. I’ll hold the canvas so’s nobody can see you.”
“You are a vile and evil man, Preacher,” Faith flared at him. “Your thoughts alone will surely guarantee you a place in the Hellfires.”
Preacher laughed at her and that made her madder than ever. She flounced around and tossed her strawberry curls and jumped up and down in the mud and sank a little deeper. She sure was cute when she was all flustered up.
“Pass the word, Eudora,” Preacher called. “Everybody who’s drivin’ oxen will walk, and only the driver will stay on the box behind the mules. The rest of you—walk!”
“You are a perfectly horrid man!”
“Walk, Missy, Walk!” He looked down at her feet, which were out of sight in the mud. “Providin’ you can pull your boots out of that mess.”
In a downpour that reduced visibility to only a few hundred feet, the wagons rolled out, with the women slogging along beside them. Long before the nooning period, most of the women had removed their slickers and tossed them into the wagons; they were just too hot.
Preacher—as did the other mountain men—had him a hunch this unnaturally warm weather was only a fluke. It was not yet mid-April, and the weather could, and probably would, abruptly shift and turn very cold. Here on the plains, this warm rain could just as easily have been sleet slashing at them.
About an hour before the nooning, Preacher made up his mind. “Find us a place to hole up,” Preacher told Steals Pony, his mouth only a few inches from the Delaware’s ear, because of the howling winds. “There ain’t no point in goin’ on through all this crap. They’ll be a bad accident if we keep on like this.”
“Have already found one, Preacher,” Steals Pony said. “Just up ahead. Maybe a half an hour. No more than that.”
“Lead us to it.” Preacher rode over to Eudora’s wagon. “Follow Steals Pony. We’re gonna sit it out.”
She nodded and lifted the reins, hollering at her big mules, which were just as unhappy with the weather as the women.
The place Steals Pony had found was a thin stand of trees. The women circled the wagons and climbed under the canvas to change into dry clothing. Preacher rode around the wagons several times, seemingly oblivious to the raging elements. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.
“What’s wrong, Captain?” Eudora shouted, during Preacher’s third passing.