Preacher’s Fury

by Johnstone, William W.

  “More than likely,” the mountain man replied.

  “Then I think we should go on, too. Gives ’em less time to get ready for us that way.”

  Two Bears nodded.

  “The black white man is right.”

  “Well, I appreciate somebody realizin’ that for a change, but about that black white man business—”

  “We go,” Two Bears went on as if he didn’t even hear Lorenzo.

  With a sigh and a shake of his head that brought a grim chuckle from Preacher, Lorenzo repeated, “We go.”

  Darkness closed in quickly once the riders entered the trees. The snow muffled the hoofbeats of the horses, and the cold, the gloom, and the quiet created an eerie atmosphere that sent shivers creeping up Preacher’s spine.

  He was a practical, hard-headed man, but like most hombres who lived in these mountains, he had a superstititous streak in him, too. He wasn’t afraid of anything that walked on two or four legs, but as the riders wound their way through this snow-draped forest, it was like they were traversing a land of the dead. All the sin-shouters claimed that hell was fiery hot, but to Preacher’s mind it had always seemed just as likely that it would be cold.

  It didn’t help matters that there were no animals around. Preacher told himself they are all hunkered down in their dens and burrows waiting for warmer weather to show themselves again, but a little voice in the back of his head warned him that they had all fled this area because they knew something bad was going to happen soon.

  Preacher tried to banish those thoughts from his mind, but it wasn’t easy. He had come to the valley of the Assiniboine hoping to spend a nice, peaceful winter, but instead there had been one outbreak of trouble and violence after another, as if those things had followed him north from Santa Fe. He knew it wasn’t true, but it seemed like that, anyway.

  With all those uneasy thoughts rattling around in his head, it came as a relief when he lifted his head, sniffed the air, and caught a faint tang of woodsmoke. A fire meant there was somebody alive in these parts.

  Unless it was the pits of Hades he was smelling, that mocking voice told him.

  “Can’t be,” he growled. “I don’t smell no brimstone.”

  “What?” Lorenzo asked from beside him. “Brimstone? What you talkin’ about, Preacher?”

  The mountain man laughed.

  “Nothin’. Forget it. I didn’t even know I said that out loud.”

  “Man goes to talkin’ to hisself, it generally ain’t a good thing. It’s even worse if he starts answerin’.”

  “I reckon that’s true.” Preacher nudged Horse for ward until he came alongside Two Bears. “I smell smoke.”

  The war chief nodded.

  “So do I. The Gros Ventre camp is ahead of us. We will be there soon.”

  “Probably be a good idea to stop and figure out exactly what we’re doin’,” Preacher suggested.

  He thought Two Bears might get stiff-necked and refuse to consider that idea simply because Preacher was the one who brought it up. But after a second, Two Bears nodded and said, “Yes, we should talk. You and the Crow are not going into the Gros Ventre village.”

  “Blast it—” Preacher began.

  “You and I are going,” Two Bears went on. “And this time you will not persuade me otherwise.”

  Preacher frowned in thought. He had seen Two Bears in action and knew the man could handle himself in a fight. Two Bears would have never become the war chief of Bent Leg’s band if that were not the case.

  But being good at brawling didn’t mean Two Bears could sneak into an enemy camp without being seen or heard. Preacher knew from experience that Nighthawk was capable of that.

  He shook his head and said, “The lives of all those prisoners depend on us gettin’ in there without the Gros Ventre knowin’ about it.”

  “You think I cannot do it?” Two Bears demanded.

  “I didn’t say that. But I don’t know that you can, and that’s a whole other thing. I ain’t sure I want to risk everything on—”

  “On my abilities?” Two Bears said as he reined his pony to a halt and glared over at Preacher. “Is that what you are saying?”

  Preacher stopped Horse as well, and the rest of the rescue party followed suit.

  “If you want the bold-faced truth, that’s exactly what I’m sayin’,” Preacher told Two Bears. “I’ve seen enough to know that you’re a fine warrior, but sneakin’ ain’t the same thing as fightin’.”

  “You should call it skulkin’, Preacher,” Lorenzo suggested. “Sneakin’ don’t sound as good.”

  “Skulking isn’t usually an admirable activity, either,” Audie pointed out.

  Preacher ignored the conversation. His attention was focused on Two Bears. Even though it was too dark to get a good look at the war chief’s face, he could tell by the tense set of Two Bears’ body that the man was angry.

  “I tell you, I can do this thing,” Two Bears said. “I would not lie out of stubborn pride. Not with the life of Raven’s Wing riding in the balance.”

  Preacher frowned. Two Bears had a point there. The man genuinely cared for Raven’s Wing. It was a question of whether his affection for her was greater than his dislike for Preacher.

  The mountain man was willing to bet that it was, he decided. He said, “All right. The two of us will go in there and free the prisoners. As soon as we’ve got ’em clear, we’ll give the signal to attack. That sound good to you?”

  “I believe it will work,” Two Bears replied. “But one of us must make sure that Snake Heart dies. Without him to lead them, there is at least a chance the Gros Ventre will not pursue us. They probably have little appetite for fighting in weather such as this.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” Preacher said. “Let’s go get the lay of the land.”

  The rescue party rode on, the snow muffling the hoofbeats of the horses. With Preacher, Two Bears, and Dog leading the way, they had no trouble following the trail of campfire smoke that guided them toward the Gros Ventre village.

  When the smell became strong enough to tell them that the village was close, Two Bears called a halt.

  “Preacher and I will scout,” he said. “The rest of you stay here for now.”

  Preacher wasn’t sure, but he thought that might have been the first time Two Bears had used his name. Usually the war chief just called him white man and said it with a sneer on his face and in his voice.

  “I think Audie should come with us, too,” Preacher suggested.

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Preacher,” Audie said, “but I really don’t think I’m in the same league as the Ghostkiller when it comes to stealth.”

  Preacher shook his head.

  “I didn’t mean you’d slip into the village with us,” he explained. “But when Two Bears and me get those prisoners loose, we’re gonna need somebody close by to turn ’em over to. I reckon that’d be a good job for you. You can hustle ’em away from the village and make sure they’re safe, while Two Bears and I go back to help with the killin’.”

  “I see,” Audie said. “That makes sense. I’m ready whenever you are.”

  Nighthawk lifted Audie down from his horse. Preacher told Dog to stay with the others.

  On foot now, Preacher, Audie, and Two Bears stole through the pine forest, making their way even closer to the Gros Ventre village.

  Knowing that Snake Heart would have posted guards around the encampment, they moved as silently as they could, eventually dropping to hands and knees to crawl forward.

  It was too dark to see much, but Preacher heard the tiny hiss Two Bears made and took it for a command to stop. He dropped onto his belly in the snow. Beside him, Audie did the same. Two Bears was just ahead of them.

  A moment later, Preacher heard what had alarmed the war chief. Footsteps sounded nearby. They were quiet, as if the man was trying not to make too much noise, but even with snow on the ground, it was impossible to walk around out here without making some sound.

&n
bsp; That was one of the guards, Preacher thought, as he and his companions lay there absolutely silent and utterly motionless. The man was about ten feet away and coming closer.

  If he discovered them, they would have to kill him quickly and without any fuss. They couldn’t afford for him to sound the alarm now. Soundlessly, Preacher moved his hand to his knife and gripped it.

  Then the guard turned, walking at right angles to the way he had been going, so he passed them only a few feet away without ever knowing they were there.

  Preacher would have heaved a sigh of relief, but he was afraid it would make too much noise.

  Instead, he lay there with Audie and Two Bears until the guard was out of earshot, and then they resumed their stealthy crawl.

  A few moments later, Two Bears signaled another halt. He tapped Preacher on the shoulder. Preacher crawled forward as Two Bears parted some brush to reveal a tiny gap they could use to spy on the Gros Ventre village.

  Several campfires burned, casting a flickering glow over the scene. At first glance, the place wasn’t much different from the Assiniboine village. The same sort of wood and earth and hide lodges were scattered around a fairly level clearing in the woods. Even though Preacher couldn’t see it, he knew there would be a stream somewhere close by so the villagers would get water.

  By this time of night all the women and children were asleep, but several warriors were still moving around, checking on horses or taking care of other chores.

  The hide flap over the entrance to one lodge was pushed back, and a man stepped out of the dwelling. Two Bears touched Preacher’s shoulder and put his mouth close to the mountain man’s ear as he whispered, “Snake Heart.”

  The fella even looked a little like a snake, Preacher thought … lean and evil. The Gros Ventre chief turned to say something to someone inside the lodge, and as he held the flap back, Preacher looked inside and saw a couple of white men.

  Although quite a bit of time had passed since the encounter at Blind Pete’s, Preacher recognized them as Willie Deaver and Caleb Manning. So he hadn’t imagined seeing Deaver during the fight back at the Assiniboine village. The man really had been there.

  Preacher saw something else in the lodge that interested him. Several long crates had been dragged into the structure. Preacher caught just a glimpse of them before Snake Heart let the hide flap fall closed and stalked off toward another lodge, but that was enough.

  Preacher had a hunch he was looking at crates full of new rifles like the ones the Gros Ventre had used in their raid.

  And if that was true, it made things very different indeed.

  CHAPTER 26

  The Gros Ventre who had remained behind in the village were happy to see the raiders when they returned. Women, children, and the warriors who had not ridden with Snake Heart came out to welcome them. Dogs leaped around and barked, which added to the tumultuous greeting.

  The women of the village were especially excited to see the prisoners. They gathered around, spitting on the Assiniboine captives and hitting them with sticks. Most of the prisoners cringed and tried to get out of the way as the Gros Ventre women carried out this mistreatment with fiendish glee.

  But not Raven’s Wing, Willie Deaver noted.

  No, Raven’s Wing never flinched. She stood straight and proud and looked like she wanted to spit right back in the faces of her tormentors.

  Watching that, Deaver wanted her even more.

  When the Gros Ventre women had their fill of making life miserable for the prisoners, the Assiniboine women were herded into a single lodge. Packing them in like that would make it easier to stand guard over them.

  Deaver had already dismounted and turned his horse over to Manning. He went to find Snake Heart and remind the chief of their bargain.

  “You said my men could have their choice of the prisoners for the night,” Deaver said.

  Snake Heart regarded him with a cold stare.

  “I remember what was said. My men wish to have their time with the captives as well.”

  Anger welled up inside Deaver. He kept it under control, but he didn’t think it would hurt to let a little of it out.

  “Blast it, we had a deal—”

  Snake Heart lifted a hand to stop him.

  “Our deal involved rifles and pelts,” the Gros Ventre said. “That arrangement is concluded. Anything else you and your men may get is a matter of generosity on my part.”

  “Fine,” Deaver snapped. “You got what you wanted. You can afford to be generous.”

  “I suppose,” Snake Heart said with a shrug. “There are five of you. I will give you two women. For the night, you understand, not permanently.”

  That was better than nothing, Deaver supposed.

  “All right,” he said, although Snake Heart hadn’t exactly asked him if he agreed. “My men can take turns. They won’t care that much.” He chuckled. “It won’t be the first time.”

  “What about you?” Snake Heart asked, evidently curious. “You will not take part?”

  Deaver hesitated. This was the tricky part. He didn’t know how far he could push things. While they were on their way back to the Gros Ventre village, Snake Heart had staked his claim on Raven’s Wing, but then later he had seemed less interested in her.

  She had been put in the lodge with the rest of the captives, too. Deaver wondered if that meant Snake Heart had decided she was no different from the rest of the Assiniboine women.

  Finally he said, “I’m the chief of my men, and I don’t share with them. I want a woman of my own.”

  That ought to put it on terms that Snake Heart could understand, he thought.

  Snake Heart’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Is there one particular woman you want?” he asked.

  This was the moment of truth, Deaver told himself.

  And yet he saw something in Snake Heart’s eyes that he didn’t like, some reptilian menace true to the man’s name. Too much was at stake to rush things.

  He shook his head and said, “Not really. I just don’t want to share with my men.”

  “I will think on it and tell you my decision later,” Snake Heart said with a curt nod. He pointed. “Those two lodges are for you and your men.”

  “Fine.” Although the word tasted a little bitter in his mouth, Deaver forced himself to add, “Thanks.”

  In the fading light, the members of the raiding party dispersed to take care of their ponies and return to their lodges. Deaver rejoined his men and waved a hand toward the two dwellings Snake Heart had pointed out to him.

  “That’s where we’ll be staying,” he told them. “Caleb and I will be in one of them, you three in the other one.”

  Even though he had told Snake Heart that he didn’t want to share a woman with his men, he was willing to share a lodge with Manning, and for good reason.

  He knew Manning was ambitious, and it never paid to trust an ambitious man too much. If he claimed one of the lodges for his own and made the other four share, they might resent that. Deaver didn’t want Manning sitting in there with Plunkett, Heath, and Jordan fanning that resentment. A three-two split was more natural.

  “How long are we going to be staying here, Willie?” Darwin Heath asked. “Our business with the Gros Ventre is finished, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t really want to leave with this much snow on the ground,” Deaver said. “We’ll wait until the weather gets better before we pull out.”

  “We need a place to spend the winter,” Fred Jordan said. “Why not here?” He grinned his big grin. “Plenty of fine-lookin’ squaws to keep us warm durin’ those cold nights.”

  “That sounds good to me, too,” Cy Plunkett put in.

  “You let me worry about that,” Deaver snapped. “I do the thinkin’ for this bunch, remember?”

  “The boys aren’t tryin’ to cause trouble,” Manning said smoothly. “They’re just concerned about our long-term plans. You can’t blame ’em for that.”

  Comments like that we
re just the sort of thing that worried Deaver where Manning was concerned. He said, “I’m not blaming anybody. We’ll work it all out.” He forced a smile onto his face. “I’ve never let you boys down so far, have I?”

  “That’s the God’s honest truth,” Plunkett said. “You’ve been a bloody good leader, Willie. Bloody good.”

  “Let’s keep it that way,” Deaver said with a nod. “Come on. I’ll bet Snake Heart’s gonna send some squaws pretty soon with something for us to eat.”

  There was a surprise waiting in the lodge that Deaver intended to share with Manning. The crates containing the extra rifles were being stored there. Seeing them made Deaver feel better for some reason, even though the weapons belonged to the Gros Ventre now.

  As Deaver predicted, a couple of women brought pots of stew to the lodges. The men gathered in Deaver’s lodge and dug in with their hands, Indian-fashion. Manning took one of the jugs of whiskey from the crates and passed it around, and they washed the food down with swigs of the fiery stuff.

  Deaver explained that Snake Heart had promised them two of the Assiniboine prisoners for the night.

  “Do we get to pick the two?” Jordan asked.

  “If we do, I’ve got a couple in mind,” Plunkett added.

  Deaver shook his head.

  “Nothing was said about that. I reckon you’ll have to make do with whatever shows up. And you’ll use the other lodge for whatever goes on, too.”

  Jordan grinned at him.

  “Turnin’ into a prude in your old age, Willie?” he asked.

  Deaver grunted disdainfully.

  “Not hardly,” he said. “But I’ve got other things on my mind tonight, boys. This is just the start of big things for us. Just the start.”

  When they were finished with their supper, Plunkett, Jordan, and Heath went back over to the other lodge, leaving Deaver and Manning alone.

  Manning sat on one of the crates, patted it affectionately, and said, “Come spring, are we gonna have St. John deliver another load of these rifles to us, Willie?”

  “That’s the idea. We won’t have any trouble finding some more savages willin’ to trade pelts for them.” Deaver grinned. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll go see the Assiniboine and offer to trade with them.”