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“Yep. That’s what I heard,” Preacher said sorrowfully. “Man that told me said: ‘Poor ol’ Blackjack. Done gone and lost his nerve.’ That’s what he said.”

Blackjack was approximately the size of a grizzly bear, but very agile for his bulk. He jumped to his feet. “I ain’t lost nothin’!” he shouted. “And, by God, you don’t have to look no further for a man to hep you with them wagons. I’ll show you, by God, a man who can get them wagons through.”

“Why, Blackjack, that’s plumb kindly of you. I knowed all them rumors wasn’t true. But Ned, now, I reckon what I heard ’bout him was true.”

“Ned Mason?”

“That’s him.”

“I ain’t heared nothin’ ’bout him.” Blackjack sat back down and filled his coffee cup. “Hell, his camp ain’t thirty miles from here. Over on the Badger. Are you tellin’ me that Ned has lost his nerve?”

“Yep. That’s what I heard.”

“We can be there this time tomorrow if we leave now.”

“You ready?”

“I will be in five minutes.”

After Ned Mason heard the rumor about his supposed loss of courage, he jumped up and down and roared and cussed. He uprooted a small tree and threw it into the creek. Then he picked up a boulder that would have herniated a lesser man and it followed the tree. He faced Preacher and Blackjack. “I just been a-waitin’ for you to ax me to hep you with them wagons, Preacher.” It was a lie and Preacher knew it. “I didn’t know how to get in touch with you.” Another lie. “And Charlie Burke is ’pposed to meet me here. He’s overdue now. He’ll come along.”

“Don’t you think Charlie’s a little long in the tooth?” Preacher asked innocently.

“Long in the tooth?” Ned bellered.

“Yeah. This is gonna be a right arduous journey.”

“What do arduous mean?”

“Difficult. This is gonna be a lot of work and Charlie ain’t no young man, you know?”

That started Ned off on another round of hollerin’ and cussin’ and jumpin’ around. He and Charlie had been friends for years. Ned finally settled down and glared at Preacher. “I double-dee-damn-darr you to say that to Charlie’s face.”

Preacher held up his hands and shook his head. “Don’t get mad at me, now, ol’ hoss. I’m just repeatin’ what I heard is all, Ned.”

“Well, there ain’t none of it true. It’s a damn lie. Come on.” He kicked dirt over the fire and began grabbing up a few possessions, tossing them into a pile. “Let’s go find Charlie. I know where he is.”

Standing by Hammer, out of earshot of the others, Preacher grinned, stroked Hammer’s nose, and whispered, “It’s workin’ out better than I thought, Hammer. Time them boys figure out that I suckered them, it’ll be too late to turn back. And they ain’t even asked me how much the job pays.” He laughed softly and Hammer rolled his eyes.

“If you all through talkin’ to your horse,” Blackjack hollered, “let’s us go find Charlie. Time’s a-wastin’.”

Preacher swung into the saddle. “Lead on, Blackjack,” he called, again hiding a smile. “I want to get there ’fore Charlie falls over from old age.”

2

Charlie Burke was no spring chicken, but neither was he likely to fall over from old age anytime soon. Preacher just wanted to play the game as long as possible. He might be able to come up with several more if he kept this sham up long enough.

“Old age!” Charlie fumed at him. “If I didn’t like you so much I’d flatten your snoot, you damn whippersnapper. Let’s go lead these poor pilgrims ’crost the plains and the mountains.”

Preacher grinned at him. “Don’t get all worked up, Charlie. You liable to have a seizure, or something.”

Charlie glared at the younger man, and then a slow grin creased his lips. “These others,” he said, jerking a thumb toward Blackjack and Ned, “they don’t know what you’re up to. But I do, you connivin’ horse thief.”

“What’s he up to?” Ned demanded. “What’s he talkin’ ’bout, Preacher?”

“I ain’t got no idee,” Preacher said innocently.

“Say!” Blackjack said. “How about ol’ Snake?”

“I thought he was dead!” Preacher blurted.

“Naw. He just looks dead. He’s ‘bout as old as dirt.”

“You know where he is?”

“Shore. He’s got him a cabin ’bout two days south of here.”

“What’s Preacher up to, Charlie.”

“You boys try to figure it out,” Charlie told the pair. “While we ride.”

The old mountain man known as Snake was ancient. He could have been anywhere between seventy and ninety. Not even he knew. But what Snake did know was every trail between the Missouri River and the Pacific Ocean, and for his age, he was almighty spry and as tough as a boot. He still had enough of his teeth to gnaw with, and was no man to try to push around. Snake would either cut you or shoot you faster than a striking rattler. Hence, his name.

“I ain’t never in my life been around a hundred and fifty females,” Snake said. “And I ain’t right sure I wanna be now. But you boys is friends, and a friend is a valuable thing. So count me in.”

They were gone within the hour, heading east toward what would someday be called Kansas. Days later, they rode into a sea of waving grass and rolling hills and hostile Indians. And the men knew they were very likely to run into any number of tribes: Kiowa, Comanche, Pawnee, Osage, Shawnee, Arapaho, Wichita, and Kansa. None of whom would be terribly thrilled to see a hundred wagons come lumbering across their land. But a war party would be delighted to spot five men alone with no place to run.

“Been years since I been this far east,” Charlie said, waiting for the coffee to boil over a hat-sized fire. “Ten years, at least.”

“Longer than that for me,” Snake said, gnawing on a piece of jerky. “I had me a runnin’ battle with a war party of young bucks not too far from right where we’s sittin’. That must have been, oh, 1820 or so. I think they was a raidin’ party from down south that had just got whupped and they decided to take it out on me. They fought me pretty good and I still got a piece of arrowhead in my back from that skirmish. They chased me for miles, but my good horse carried me safe. I finally lost ’em up past the Little Beaver.”

“What tribe?” Preacher asked.

“I never knowed. I gleaned right off that they didn’t appear to be in no mood for genteel conversation. As a matter of fact, they was right unfriendly.”

Blackjack said, “Preacher, there ain’t no way the five of us is gonna be near enough. Have you give that any thought?”

“Practically every hour on the hour,” Preacher replied, dumping cold water into the coffeepot to settle the grounds. “I’m hopin’ they’ll be some ol’ boys we know around the stagin’ area that’ll be willin’ to throw in with us.

“And if they ain’t?” Ned asked.

“We hire some pilgrims, I reckon.”

Snake shook his head. “We’re gonna need at least twelve to fifteen more men to see to the needs of all these heifers. And that ain’t takin’ into consideration them that might feel the need for some servicin’.” He lifted wise old eyes to Preacher. “And that’s gonna create problems, Preacher.”

“I been givin’ that some thought, too. I’m just gonna have to lay the law down to the men and the ladies. I can’t keep men and women from doin’ what comes natural, but I can damn sure warn them that something like that could tear this wagon train apart. Well, we got about three hundred miles to go ’fore we have to do much worryin’. I think it’s the first week in March. We’re s’pposed to be there in three weeks. Give or take a day or two. I figure a week or ten days to sort things out and hire men. Then, boys, our troubles really begin.” His eyes cut around as Hammer’s ears pricked up. “Look sharp. We got company.”