The sudden sound of a shot from across the street made Preacher’s head jerk up in alarm.
CHAPTER 26
Preacher’s first impulse was to yank the pistol from behind his belt, run across the street, and charge into the whorehouse ready to start shooting.
With an effort, he controlled that urge. Trouble broke out in those places all the time, and the gunshot he had heard didn’t necessarily have anything to do with Roland and Casey. Even if it did, if he rushed in it might get them killed.
Still, he couldn’t just wait in the dark, not knowing what was going on over there. He was going to have to risk going in.
He tugged his hat brim down low over his face and stepped out of the alley. As he started across the street, he saw several of the bullwhackers approaching the whorehouse as well. They had heard the shot and gotten worried about Roland. Preacher caught the eye of one of the men and waved him back. The man passed along the order, and they all stopped and began to withdraw with obvious reluctance.
There had only been the single shot, but Preacher didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.
Maybe a single shot was all it had taken to kill Roland Bartlett.
He was only about halfway across the street when a man carrying a rifle stepped out the front doorway of the whorehouse. Instinct sent Preacher diving to the side as the rifle barrel came up. Orange flame geysered from the muzzle. Preacher heard the heavy lead ball hum past him as he went to one knee. He had his pistol in his hand, snapped it up, and fired. The rifleman ducked back inside as Preacher’s shot chewed splinters from one of the porch posts.
Preacher ran for a parked wagon nearby. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but it couldn’t be anything good. He took cover behind the wagon and reloaded his pistol.
A man’s deep, gravelly voice boomed out through the open door of the whorehouse. “Preacher! Preacher, can you hear me?”
A frown creased the mountain man’s forehead. He didn’t recognize the voice.
“I hear you!” he called back harshly. There didn’t seem to be any point in denying who he was. “Who are you, mister, and what do you want?”
“It’s more a matter of what you want,” the man replied. “I’ve got Roland Bartlett and the girl called Casey in here!”
Preacher bit back a curse. Obviously, Roland’s disguise hadn’t worked at all. Garity must have known somehow that they were in Santa Fe and had been watching for Roland or Preacher, waiting for them to show up looking for Casey.
Well, that wasn’t a complete surprise, he mused. They hadn’t kept the arrival of the wagons a secret. A man like Egan Powell probably had sources of information all over the settlement. He could have been told the Bartlett wagon train had rolled into Santa Fe several days earlier. If he’d passed that on to Garity, the two of them could have set up a trap, with Casey for the bait—
“Preacher! You’d better listen to me if you ever want to see those two youngsters alive again!”
Preacher had no doubt the gravelly voice belonged to Powell. “I’m listenin’!” Preacher shouted. The pistol was reloaded, and his hand wrapped tensely around the butt.
“A friend of mine’s got a score to settle with you! He’s willing to let Bartlett and Casey go if you’ll turn yourself over to him.”
“We’re talkin’ about Garity?”
“That’s right. How about it, Preacher? Is your life worth the two of theirs?”
Preacher didn’t believe for a second that if he walked into that whorehouse and surrendered, Garity would let Roland and Casey go unharmed. The outlaw was a natural-born double-crosser. He would kill all three of them and be done with it.
Or rather, he would kill Preacher and Roland. Casey would likely continue to suffer whatever degradations she had already been through, and more.
Preacher took a deep breath. “Now, you listen to me!” he shouted. “Here’s how this is gonna work. You and Garity bring Roland and Casey to the west side of the plaza tomorrow mornin’ at dawn. Just the two of you! I see anybody else and the deal’s off. I’ll be on the east side, unarmed. I’ll start across at the same time you start Roland and Casey walkin’ toward me. Once they’re clear, Garity can do whatever the hell he wants to me.”
“Do you really think we’re stupid enough to fall for a trick like that?”
“It’s the only deal you’re gonna get from me!” Preacher said. “I’ve risked life and limb for those two over and over again, and I’m gettin’ sick of it! I swear, Powell, I’ll just ride away, and Garity can have ’em!”
That wasn’t true, of course, but Powell and Garity couldn’t be sure of that. Preacher was convinced that Garity was probably right inside the building, listening to the conversation. He wondered if Powell had cleared all the customers out the back and sent the soiled doves up to their rooms as soon as they grabbed Roland.
The whorehouse remained dark and silent for several moments, no doubt while Powell conferred with Garity. Finally, Powell called, “All right, Preacher, you got a deal! The plaza at dawn! But you’d better not try anything funny, or those two will be a long time dying!”
The front door banged shut.
A sound behind Preacher made the mountain man whirl around and level the pistol at a dark shape his keen eyes picked out of the shadows.
“Don’t shoot!” Lorenzo yelped. “Land’s sake, Preacher, it’s just me!”
Preacher lowered the gun and took a deep breath. “Damn it, Lorenzo, I almost blowed your fool head off.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” the old-timer said, “’cause I come to warn you. They’s some men sneakin’ around the alleys right now tryin’ to get behind you.”
Powell’s hired killers, Preacher thought. He stepped over to Lorenzo, took hold of the old man’s arm, and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“That’s just what I was thinkin’!”
They ran across the street. Preacher knew the bullwhackers would still be watching from the next block. He waved for them to withdraw. If anything had gone wrong with their plans, they were supposed to rendezvous back at Juanita’s.
Well, things had gone wrong, Preacher thought . . . about as wrong as they possibly could.
But Roland and Casey were still alive. At least he hoped so. He just had to come up with some idea to keep them that way.
Preacher and Lorenzo gave Powell’s men the slip without much difficulty. They were accustomed to handling drunken, lecherous fools in close quarters, not capturing a fella who knew how to move through the shadows like a night wind. If not for what it might mean to Roland and Casey, Preacher would have waited for them and turned the hunters into the hunted. He probably could have killed all of them before he was done.
But if he did that, Garity and Powell might abandon the bargain and kill Roland. Besides, Preacher had Lorenzo with him, and he wanted to keep the old-timer safe, too.
As they walked back to Juanita’s, Preacher said, “I reckon you heard that shot inside the whorehouse.”
“Yeah, and I seen a bunch o’ sheepish-lookin’ fellas come out the back door a minute later,” Lorenzo replied, confirming Preacher’s hunch about what Powell had done with the house’s customers. “Then I heard some more shootin’, and you yellin’ out in front of the place, so I figured the whole plan was blowed to hell.”
“You got that right,” Preacher muttered. “They must’ve spotted Roland as soon as he walked in there. They were probably waitin’ for him.”
“That varmint Garity’s smarter than we done give him credit for.”