Donnelly and Lorraine looked surprised, and Uncle Dan appeared to be downright devastated. “Leave before supper? What in tarnation are you thinkin’, son?”
“I’m thinkin’ everybody in this camp believed those lies Moran was yellin’,” Preacher said. “We ain’t welcome here.”
“That’s not true!” Lorraine exclaimed. “It was all just a—”
Preacher held up a hand to stop her. “A misunderstandin’, I know. I’ve heard it said often enough the past few minutes. But that don’t change anything. Buckhalter didn’t want us here from the first, and he’s the wagon master. Be simpler all around if we’re gone. Better for everybody.”
“I don’t know about that,” Donnelly said. “What about those Pawnee?”
“I’ve already told you everything I can tell you to do. You remember what I said, and you’ll be all right. Main thing is to always be ready for trouble.”
He had allowed himself to forget that for a few moments, he reflected, had let down his guard because he was talking to a pretty woman and about to eat a good hot meal. All it had gotten him was a bust in the snoot and more guns pointed at him.
Lorraine stepped forward. “I really wish you wouldn’t go, Preacher.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” He reached up and tugged on the brim of his hat. “We’re much obliged for your hospitality, ain’t we, Uncle Dan?”
“What?” the old-timer said. “Oh. Yeah, I reckon. Much obliged.” Preacher took his arm and started leading him away from the wagon, and as they went, Uncle Dan added under his breath, “But I’d’a been a heap more obliged if’n I’d got on the outside o’ some supper first.”
“Hush up,” Preacher said, equally quietly. “We ain’t goin’ very far.”
Uncle Dan looked over at him, frowning in puzzlement. “What?”
“Buckhalter’s up to somethin’,” Preacher said, his voice grim, “and I damned well intend to find out what it is.”
Chapter 6
They saddled their horses and got the animals ready to travel. As they were doing so, Ned Donnelly came over and asked, “Is there anything I can say to get you to change your mind about this, Preacher?”
“Nope,” the mountain man replied. “Look, Donnelly, it’s just one night’s difference. Come mornin’, you’d have headed west and we’d have headed east anyway. Uncle Dan and I got business in St. Louis, and it can’t wait.”
Donnelly shrugged. “I suppose that’s true. I just hate to part when there are hard feelings involved.”
“There ain’t no hard feelin’s,” Preacher said with a shake of his head. “Not where you and your wife are concerned. You seem like fine folks, and I hope you make a good life for yourselves out yonder in Oregon Territory.”
Donnelly stuck out his hand. “Thank you. Good luck with your business in St. Louis.”
Preacher didn’t hesitate. He gripped the man’s hand and gave him a brisk nod.
Two minutes later, Preacher and Uncle Ned were riding away from the camp. As they went out through the gap between wagons, Preacher had seen Buckhalter watching them.
The wagon master wore a satisfied smirk on his face, as if he had gotten what he wanted after all. Preacher had the urge to knock that smirk right down Buckhalter’s throat, but that would have to wait. It was more important to figure out exactly what was going on here. Preacher’s gut told him that some sort of threat loomed over the wagon train, but he was damned if he knew what it was.
Once they were well away from the wagons, Uncle Dan said, “Now, you want to tell me what in the blue blazes is goin’ on here, Preacher?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Preacher said. “Buckhalter dreamed up that scheme, and I want to know why he was so desperate to get rid of us that he’d set a trap to murder me.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“You saw how he was ready to step right in there and blow a hole in my hide. He knew there was gonna be a fight before Moran ever threw the first punch. He would’ve likely got away with it, too, if you hadn’t been so quick to holler that warnin’ at me. Even with that, it was a mighty near thing.”
“Yeah, I thought you was a goner.” Uncle Dan scratched at his beard as they rode along in the thickening darkness. “You’re sayin’ that Buckhalter told Moran to jump you like that?”
Preacher explained the theory that had formed in his mind, and as he put it into words, he became even more convinced that he was right.
“Buckhalter was scared to have us around,” he concluded. “Scared that we’d mess up some plan of his.”
“What sort of plan?”
“That’s what we got to find out. Whatever it is, it must be happenin’ quick, maybe even tonight, for Buckhalter to get so spooked just because we were there.”
“So you weren’t really mad at those pilgrims? You were just puttin’ on so we’d have an excuse to leave and do some pokin’ around?”
“I was a mite put out,” Preacher admitted. “But yeah, it was mostly just to make Buckhalter think he’d done got rid of us.”
Uncle Dan cackled. “He’s gonna be mighty surprised when he finds out he’s wrong, ain’t he?”
“I damn sure hope so,” Preacher said. He reined in and went on, “Let’s wait here a few minutes, then we’ll turn around and head back to the camp so we can keep an eye on it tonight.”
As they sat there on their horses, Uncle Dan sighed and said, “I sure wish ol’ Buckhalter had waited until after supper to spring that little trap o’ his.”
“After we find out what’s goin’ on, maybe Mrs. Donnelly will have some leftovers you can scrounge,” Preacher told him with a smile.
“Preacher . . . you wasn’t really makin’ advances toward Miz Donnelly, were you?”
Preacher’s smile went away and was replaced by a frown. “Hell, no. You oughta know me better’n that, Uncle Dan.”
“Well, I didn’t think you would, but you gotta remember, I ain’t really knowed you all that long. And you can know a feller for years and years and then have him surprise you when it comes to women.”
“I suppose that’s true. But in this case, naw, there was nothin’ dicey goin’ on—”
Preacher stopped short as a growl came from Dog. He looked down at the big cur, and despite the poor light, he could tell that Dog was standing stiffly and gazing off to the east as another growl came from his throat.
“Quiet, Dog,” Preacher said softly.
“What’s got him stirred up?” Uncle Dan asked. “Some sort o’ animal, maybe?”
“Yeah. Maybe some two-legged ones.”
Uncle Dan’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Them Pawnee!”
“Chances are, it ain’t them,” Preacher said. “The last sign we saw, they were west of here.”
“Could’ve circled around.”
“Yeah.” Preacher waved a hand toward some trees along the riverbank. “Let’s get over there in the shadows under those trees. Come on, Dog.”
Quickly, the men and animals moved over into the concealment of the trees. Preacher listened intently, and after a moment he heard the drumming of hoofbeats.
“Riders comin’,” he whispered to Uncle Dan. “I reckon Dog smelled ’em before we could hear ’em.”
“Dogs is good about that,” the old-timer agreed. “I hear ’em now, too. Sounds like a pretty big bunch.”
Preacher thought the same thing. Enough riders were moving through the darkness that they could be the Pawnee warriors led by Standing Elk, as Uncle Dan had suggested. Something about that struck Preacher as wrong, though. He thought it was much more likely that the Pawnee would lie in ambush somewhere up ahead along the river, rather than circling around to attack the wagon train by night.
The riders came into view, a dark mass moving from left to right in front of Preacher and Uncle Dan. Dog growled again, as if his instincts wanted to send him charging forward. “Stay, Dog,” Preacher told him. “Steady.”