“Yeah.”
“Well, there she is now.” The red-bearded trapper nodded toward the big trading post.
Preacher turned his head and his eyes widened in surprise, just as Harrigan had predicted. A beautiful woman stood on the building’s gallery with her hands clasped on the railing.
CHAPTER 15
The trading post was too far away across the compound for Preacher to make out many details, but he could tell the woman had long, thick, honey-colored hair that was pulled back from her face and braided at the back of her head. The appealing curves of her body were clearly visible in a high-necked gray woolen dress.
It had been months since he had seen a white woman, and he sure hadn’t expected to encounter one at the isolated frontier outpost. There might not be another within several hundred miles.
He looked over at Harrigan and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
That drew a chuckle from the red-bearded trapper. He kneed his horse to move toward the trading post. “What’d I tell you?”
Preacher rode alongside Harrigan. “Who is she?”
“Mrs. Langley. The booshwa’s wife.”
“He brought a woman out here?”
“That’s her standin’ right there on the porch. Unless every man jack in this whole fort is seein’ things that just ain’t there.”
Preacher shook his head ruefully. “That probably wasn’t a very smart thing for him to do.”
“Maybe, maybe not. One reason Mr. Astor had these forts built out here was to spread civilization into the wilderness, wasn’t it? Ain’t nothin’ spreads civilization faster than womenfolks.”
Preacher grunted. As far as he’d ever been able to tell, the only reason John Jacob Astor had built the frontier forts was so his American Fur Company could make more money.
“Havin’ a beautiful woman in a fort full of men is just askin’ for trouble,” Preacher said.
“She is mighty comely, ain’t she? And sweet as she can be, too. But the boys all mind their step around her, let me tell you. Nobody wants to get crosswise with Mr. Langley, since he’s the one who decides how much he’ll pay for the pelts. Anyway, he’s pretty tough. He’s been in a few tussles since he came out here, and not many fellas want to tangle with him.”
That didn’t surprise Preacher. It took a strong, stubborn man to run a wilderness outpost and do a good job of it.
Before they reached the trading post, a tall man stepped out of the building and moved up behind the woman. He rested a hand on her shoulder in an unmistakable gesture of possession.
Preacher wondered if his presence had prompted that gesture. The man had to be Langley, the booshwa. Certainly he knew everyone else there was aware of the woman’s status as his wife. But Preacher was a stranger, and he figured Langley wanted to make the situation clear to him right away, so he wouldn’t get any troublesome ideas in his head.
As Preacher and Harrigan reined their horses to a stop in front of the trading post, Langley said, “I thought you were going out to hunt with Mahaffey and Brown, Quint.”
“Yes, sir, I was, Mr. Langley,” Harrigan said, confirming Preacher’s hunch about the man’s identity. “But I ran into an old friend and decided to come back to the fort with him instead. This here is Preacher.”
Langley cocked a bushy black eyebrow. “Preacher, eh? I’ve heard a lot about you, mister. You’re Lewis and Clark, John Colter, and Jim Bridger all rolled into one.”
“Not hardly,” Preacher said, “but I’ve been honored to know John Colter and Jim Bridger. Those Lewis and Clark fellas were a mite before my time.”
As Preacher and Harrigan dismounted, one of the men from the gate walked up to the trading post and addressed the booshwa. “We’ve got some wagons and a herd of horses comin’ in, Mr. Langley. What do you want us to do?”
Langley was a tall, broad-shouldered man, obviously powerful, and handsome in a rugged way. He wore high-topped boots, whipcord trousers, a white shirt, and a brown leather vest. He was clean-shaven and had a shock of dark hair.
He squeezed his wife’s shoulder and moved past her to go down the steps from the porch. “Let the wagons in. Hold the horses outside until I find out what’s going on here.”
“Reckon I can tell you that,” Preacher said. “The fella those horses belong to brought ’em out here to sell and trade ’em.”
Standing next to Preacher it was easy to see Langley was close to the same height. The booshwa probably weighed more, since Preacher’s musculature was lean and wolf-like, but the two men were pretty evenly matched.
Langley frowned at Preacher. “The American Fur Company handles all the business in these parts. And I represent the American Fur Company.”
“You handle the business in pelts. These are horses.”
Anger flashed in Langley’s eyes. He didn’t like being challenged that way.
Langley and Wiley Courtland were liable to have some trouble, Preacher thought.
Luckily, that was none of his affair. He had agreed to help Courtland get there, and had kept his word.
The woman on the porch spoke up, momentarily dissolving the feeling of tension in the air. “Ethan, where are your manners? You haven’t properly introduced yourself or me.”
“That’s true,” Langley admitted. “I’m Ethan Langley. This is my wife Judith.”
Preacher shook hands with the booshwa, then took off his hat and nodded to the woman. “It’s an honor and a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
It was no lie about the pleasure. Judith Langley was even more attractive close up. Her face was lightly tanned, and her eyes were an intriguing shade of blue. Preacher thought she was probably in her mid-twenties, six or seven years younger than her husband.
“Thank you, Mister . . . Preacher, was it?”
He shook his head. “No mister. Just Preacher. And before you can ask, I ain’t no sin-shouter or sky pilot, just an ol’ trapper.”
“Don’t believe him, dear,” Langley said. “As I indicated before, Preacher is something of a legendary character. He’s one of the best-known trappers, explorers, and adventurers west of the Mississippi.”
“Then it’s an honor to have you visit us,” Judith said. “You’ll join us for supper tonight, I hope?”
Preacher saw the expression of disapproval flicker over Ethan Langley’s face, even though the man concealed the reaction quickly. Langley didn’t think much of his wife’s idea.
As much to be contrary as for any other reason, Preacher smiled and said, “Why, I’d be plumb dee-lighted, ma’am.”
“Good. I’d better go start preparing the meal.” She smiled and turned to go back into the trading post.
As the wagons rolled into the compound Preacher noticed the guards along the parapet seemed more alert while the gates were open. That was a good sign, he thought. The air of crisp efficiency about the outpost impressed him, despite that he didn’t feel any instinctive liking for Langley. A fella didn’t have to be likable to be good at his job.
The wagons were directed toward a large open area. Courtland and Freeman rode beside the vehicles.
“I suppose I’d better go welcome our guests. We’ll have to talk about what we’re going to do with those horses, too.” Langley looked at Preacher. “Who’s in charge of the group?”
“That fella right there in the coonskin cap,” Preacher replied, pointing at Wiley Courtland.
Langley gave him a curt nod of thanks and strode toward the wagons.
“Buy you a drink, Preacher?” Quint Harrigan suggested.
“Mighty generous of you, and I’ll take you up on it later,” Preacher said. “Right now, I better go introduce those fellas so they can work out their business.” Leading Horse, with Dog padding along behind them, he walked toward the wagons behind Langley.
Harrigan shrugged and went along, too. “You know”—he nudged an elbow into Preacher’s side—“I never got asked to dinner by the booshwa’s missus.”
Preacher grinned. “That’s ’cause you
ain’t legendary.”
Courtland had brought his mount to a stop next to one of the wagons. As he swung down from the saddle, his back was to the approaching men. He turned to face them, and Langley came to an abrupt halt.
“You!” he exclaimed. “You bastard!”
CHAPTER 16
Courtland stiffened as his face twisted in anger and recognition.
“Langley! What are you doing here?”
“I’m in charge of this outpost.” Langley’s voice trembled slightly. Obviously he was furious, and was having trouble controlling that emotion. “Those are your horses out there?”
“They are,” Courtland answered in clipped tones.
“Then you might as well turn around and drive them back to St. Louis, or wherever you came from, because there’s nothing for you here.”
Courtland took a step closer. His chin jutted out defiantly. “We’ll just see about that.”
“The hell we will,” Langley snapped. “This fort belongs to the American Fur Company, and as the company’s representative, my word is law!”
“Maybe when it comes to setting prices for furs, but not in any other way!”
Freeman had dismounted and moved up carefully beside Courtland. “You two fellas know each other, Wiley?”
That seemed like an unnecessary question to Preacher. Courtland and Langley knew each other, all right . . . and they didn’t like each other. Not one bit.
“We’re acquainted,” Courtland said without taking his eyes off Langley. Both men were tense, and the feeling of impending violence hanging in the air dwarfed the minor friction between Preacher and Langley a few minutes earlier.
“Well, what do you know about that?” Harrigan said quietly to Preacher as the two of them stood off to the side, watching the confrontation.
“You knew I was here, didn’t you?” Langley accused.
“I had no idea,” Courtland responded. “I wouldn’t have come if I did. If I’d never seen you again, Langley, it would have been just fine with me.”
“You knew,” Langley insisted, his voice growing more harsh as he went on. “And you knew she was here, too!”
Well, now, thought Preacher, that made things more interesting.
Courtland’s eyes widened, shocked by what he had just heard. His voice dropped to a whisper. “You mean Judith?”
Realizing the truth, he cried, “You brought Judith into this godforsaken wilderness filled with bloodthirsty savages and wild animals? My God, man, are you completely mad?”
Langley’s hands balled into fists at his side as he took a quick step forward. “Keep your filthy tongue off her name,” he warned in a low, menacing voice.
Courtland moved closer and his fists were clenched as well.
Preacher knew that within seconds, one or both would start throwing punches. “Hold on, hold on.” It was none of his business, but he had fought for his life alongside Courtland and that created a certain bond. “There’s no need for you fellas to go to beatin’ on each other.”
“Stay out of this,” Langley snapped. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“I’d almost rather die than agree with this lowlife,” Courtland ground out, “but he’s right, Preacher. This is between him and me.”
Preacher shrugged and stepped back. He had done what he could to prevent trouble. What happened next was up to the two men glaring at each other.
“Wiley!” The surprised cry came from the other side of the compound. “Wiley, is that you?”
Everyone turned to look. Judith Langley had come back out onto the trading post’s porch.
Courtland snatched the coonskin cap from his head, smiled at her, and called, “Hello, Judith.”
Langley held up a hand toward her and began, “Judith, wait—”
She ignored him. Going down the steps quickly, she picked up the skirt of her long dress a little, and hurried across the compound toward the men. Langley took a step like he intended to get in her way and stop her from reaching Courtland, but then his mouth twisted bitterly and he moved back.
Langley was going to let this play out, Preacher thought, and see what happened.
Judith went straight to Courtland and threw her arms around his neck.
“Wiley, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“And I didn’t think I’d ever see you,” Courtland told her.
Off to the side, Harrigan nudged Preacher again and asked quietly, “You reckon they’re brother and sister?”
“Not from the way Langley’s lookin’ at ’em,” Preacher replied.
The booshwa’s face was creased in a scowl. His expression darkened when Judith turned her head to look at him and asked, “Ethan, why didn’t you come and tell me Wiley was here?” She still had her arms around Courtland’s neck.
“He just got here,” Langley said. “Besides, I wasn’t sure you’d want to see him again.”
“Of course I want to see him! Someone from back home—”
“You weren’t on such good terms the last time you saw him. As I recall, you’d just told him you were going to marry me instead of him.”
Preacher glanced over at Harrigan. “Nope, not brother and sister.”
Courtland said, “All that’s in the past, Langley. Judith and I are just old friends now. I’m glad to see her, just as she’s glad to see me.”
“You knew she was here,” Langley accused again. “That’s why you brought those horses out here. They’re just an excuse to come and butt into our lives where you’re not wanted.”
Judith finally stopped hugging Courtland and stepped back. She turned to face her husband. “Ethan, don’t be ridiculous.”
“That’s a pretty far-fetched idea,” Courtland added. “I invested my life’s savings in those horses. I risked my life and the lives of the men who came with me to bring them out here.” His voice caught a little as he went on, “And some of those men didn’t make it. Do you really think I’d go through all that just to try to come between you and your wife, Langley?”
“Are you saying it’s just an accident you showed up at the fort where we’re living?” Langley demanded.
“That’s exactly what I was trying to tell you,” Courtland replied with a note of exasperation in his voice. “The fact that Judith is here is a happy accident as far as I’m concerned, but an accident nonetheless.” He looked at her. “But you really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have brought you with him. It’s too dangerous out here on the frontier. I know that from firsthand experience now.”
“Nonsense,” Judith answered without hesitation. “Ethan has always taken good care of me. I’m sure he’ll continue to do so.” She laid a hand on Courtland’s arm. “Now, I’ve already invited Preacher to join us for supper tonight. You’re going to do so as well, of course.”
“Judith!” Langley cried.
She gave him a look that silenced him before he could go on. “This is my home now, Ethan. I believe I can invite whoever I want to join us for a meal.”
Preacher could tell from the look on Langley’s face that the booshwa knew when he was licked. The expression of resignation sort of made Preacher glad he had never taken a wife.
“All right,” Langley said with a rough growl in his tone. “Courtland can come to supper. We need to talk business anyway, I suppose.”
“That’ll have to wait until after we’ve eaten. Wiley and I have a lot of catching up to do.” Judith linked her arm with his. “In fact, if you want to come over to the trading post with me now, we can get started.”
“I’d love to,” Courtland said as he smiled and gently disengaged his arm from hers. “But I have to make arrangements for my horses and men. I have certain responsibilities. . . .”
“Of course. Later, then.”
“You have my word,” he assured her.
As Judith started back toward the trading post, Langley and Courtland faced off again.
“You can’t bring those nags in here,” Langley barked.
> “They’re not nags. They’re fine specimens of horseflesh. And it looks like you have room in your corral for some of them, anyway.”
“That corral belongs to the American Fur Company.”
“So the trappers who come here to the post aren’t allowed to put their horses in it?” Courtland demanded.
“That’s different. They’re doing business with the company.” Langley grimaced and rubbed his chin. “I reckon if you wanted to pay rent on the corral space . . .”
“At a rate you set that’s highway robbery?” Courtland shook his head. “No, thanks. We’re going to have to build a corral of our own for some of the horses. We might as well build one big enough to hold all of them.” He paused, then added scathingly, “Or are you going to claim the trees belong to the American Fur Company, too?”
“Do whatever you want outside the fort,” Langley grated. “Just don’t come crying to me for help if you get into trouble.”
“I wouldn’t even think of it. But just remember. . . we’re the ones who successfully fought off Red Knife and his war party. If the Blackfeet show up again, you’re liable to need our help.”
Langley snorted. “That’ll be a cold day in hell.”
Harrigan leaned over to Preacher and whispered, “I’m sorta glad I ain’t goin’ to supper with those folks after all.”
Preacher felt the same, but didn’t see any way to gracefully decline Judith Langley’s invitation without hurting her feelings, especially after he’d already accepted.
So after unsaddling Horse, leading the big stallion into the corral next to the blacksmith shop, and giving him a good rubdown, Preacher headed for the trading post. Dog trailed along behind him and lay down on the porch when Preacher told him to.
The gates were still open, and from the porch Preacher could see Courtland’s men holding the horses. He heard axes ringing and knew some of the men were felling saplings along the river to fashion them into poles for a new corral. It would take several days to build, and in the meantime Courtland would have to have men guarding the herd all the time.
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