Cobey grinned. In a matter of a few minutes, this twist of fate meant that he had gone from potentially being outnumbered to having his own little army.
Preacher was sure enough in for a surprise when Cobey and his newfound troops showed up to take that treasure.
Even though the foothills were still rugged in places, the trail the wagons were following was easy enough so that Preacher decided to keep them moving, even after night fell. There was enough moonlight for him to be able to recognize the place where they were supposed to cut off away from the river and head straight across a stretch of relatively flat land toward the old mission.
He knew the chances were that Cobey and the rest of the gang of thieves would keep moving, too. It was a race now, to see if they could reach Santo Domingo before the killers caught up to them.
Juanita had climbed into one of the wagons to get some much-needed rest, and she had persuaded Esteban to come with her. The young man had been through a lot in the past few days, and Preacher told him that he needed to recuperate while he could. Nighthawk was scouting ahead, and Audie had fallen behind to keep an eye on their back trail, so that he could warn them if the pursuit approached. That left Preacher to ride alongside the wagons.
He was moving along easily beside the lead wagon when Father Hortensio climbed onto the driver’s seat next to Pablo. “I must speak to you, Señor Preacher,” the priest said stiffly.
“What about, Padre?”
“About what happened back there in the mountains, when I took the treasure away from Esteban.”
“Yeah, I been wonderin’ a mite about that,” Preacher mused. “How’d you get that gold outta there?”
“We made bags out of our clothing and dragged them with the horses. It was difficult.”
“I expect it was.”
“But that is not what I wish to discuss,” Father Hortensio said. “I want to explain to you why I did what I did.”
Preacher looked over at him and said, “You don’t owe me no explanations, Padre. You knew we were gonna try to trade that loot for Juanita’s life, and you didn’t want to risk losin’ it.”
“It is not loot. Those relics are holy—”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
“And the gold belongs to the Church,” Father Hortensio went on stubbornly.
“You agreed that Esteban and Juanita ought to have a share of it for what they did to help.”
“The archbishop agreed. I would not have. Devotion to the Church should not require a . . . a payoff, as you gringos say.”
“Well, maybe not,” Preacher said. “But there ain’t anything wrong with bein’ fair about things, neither. That ain’t really any o’ my business, though. I’m just here because I don’t want to see a low-down polecat like that fella Cobey get what he’s after. I want those young’uns to make it back home all right, too.”
“As do I. I simply want to make it clear that I offer no apologies for anything I have done. I followed my conscience, that is all.”
“Fine. I reckon we understand each other. Even a heathen like me can have a conscience, you know.”
Father Hortensio hesitated and then said, “Perhaps I was wrong about that.”
“About what?”
“About you being a heathen, Señor Preacher.”
Preacher grinned. “Well, thanks . . . I reckon.”
The party moved on through the night, stopping only occasionally to let the animals rest. Audie came up and reported no signs of their pursuers . . . yet. Preacher remained convinced that Cobey and the others were still back there somewhere, though.
Along toward morning, when the moon was low in the sky and the stars were losing their twinkle against the graying of the sky, Nighthawk rode back to the wagons and gave Preacher an emphatic nod as he said, “Ummm.”
“You spotted the old mission?” Preacher said. Nighthawk nodded again.
That was good news, but Preacher hadn’t really had time to appreciate it when the swift rataplan of hoofbeats from behind the wagons warned that Audie was approaching. The little man wouldn’t be riding that fast, Preacher sensed, unless trouble was riding right behind him.
Preacher wheeled Horse around as Audie raced up out of the night’s tail end. “They’re back there, Preacher,” he said, “and coming up fast! I thought you said there were only four or five of them.”
“That’s all I know about,” Preacher replied as he tensed at the implications of Audie’s words.
“Well, there are more than that now. There at least a dozen riders, probably more.”
“Maybe it ain’t Cobey’s bunch. . . .” Preacher began.
But who else could it be, he asked himself as his words came to an abrupt stop. Somehow, Cobey had gone and found himself some more men, just when Preacher had started to feel good about the odds for a change.
“How far back you reckon they are?”
“Not much more than a mile.”
Preacher turned to Nighthawk. “How far are we from those ruins?”
“Half mile,” the Crow said, the first time Preacher had heard him utter actual words.
“Esteban! Juanita! Padre!”
Preacher’s voice rang out, summoning the three he had called from the interior of the wagons. As they looked out from the covered beds of the vehicles, Preacher waved Pablo and Joaquin on.
“Keep them teams movin’!” he ordered. “Get all the speed out of ’em you can!” To the priest and the Alvarez siblings, he went on. “Those hard cases are closin’ in behind us, comin’ up in a hurry. We’ll make a run for the old mission and try to get there before they catch up to us, but I want all the guns loaded and ready, because one way or another there’s bound to be a fight! Audie and Nighthawk and me will drop back a ways and see if we can slow them down some, but don’t count on that. Padre, keep them Yaquis o’ yours pushin’ the teams. Esteban, you and Juanita get ready to fight if you have to.”
Esteban nodded, an eager look on his face in the graying light. “Sí, Preacher. We will be ready.”
“Be careful!” Juanita called to them as they turned their horses to ride back in the direction they had come from. Preacher told Dog to stay with the wagons and waved a hand in farewell.
As they rode back along the path they had been following, Audie said to Preacher, “The señorita is quite fond of you, my friend.”
“What?” Preacher said, genuinely surprised.
“I’d say she’s rather smitten, in fact.”
“Aw, hell, you’re crazy. She’s just a kid.”
“On the contrary, she’s a full-grown woman, and you’re not more than six or seven years older than she is.”
“Well, that ain’t the way it seems,” Preacher said. “The way she growed up, and the way I’ve lived since I come to the frontier, makes for a whole lot more difference than a few years.”
“I’m just saying that there was more to her admonition than a simple wish for you to be careful.”
Preacher had a hard time believing that, but maybe Audie was right. It didn’t really matter, though, because first they all had to live through the next few hours. If they accomplished that, then he could worry about how Juanita really felt about him, Preacher told himself.
“There they are,” he said suddenly as he spotted a large group of riders coming toward them across a stretch of open ground about five hundred yards wide. Audie had been right about the number. There were about a dozen-and-a-half men in the party. The dawn light was strong enough now so that Preacher could see the white trousers and blue jackets on some of the riders. He exclaimed, “Damn it, some o’ them are Mexican soldiers!”
Audie whipped out his spyglass and studied the oncoming horsemen. “You’re correct about that,” he said, “but I also see the one you called Cobey and several of his companions from our earlier clash, including that gigantic fellow.”
“Wick’s still alive?” That was as surprising as the fact that Cobey’s bunch had been joined by what seemed to be a patrol o
f Mexican cavalry.
“He’s with them,” Audie confirmed. “There’s no mistaking an individual of that size.”
Preacher thought quickly. “Way back when all this started, I told the fella who owns the tradin’ post to get word to Santa Fe and send the army up here to look for those youngsters. Maybe Cobey and the others are prisoners.”
The sound of several shots rolled over the foothills, and Preacher saw distant spurts of smoke from rifle muzzles.
“That doesn’t appear to be the case,” Audie said dryly as he put away his spyglass. “As a matter of fact, it looks more like Cobey is in command.”
“Damn it!” Preacher grated. As if the situation hadn’t been bad enough already, now they had to fight the Mex army, too. If word of that ever got back to Mexico City, he’d sure be in Dutch with ol’ Santa Anna. Of course, if he lived through this mess, it was entirely possible he’d never drift down this way again....
He lifted his rifle and cocked it. “We’ll let ’em get a little closer and then give ’em a volley. They ain’t in range yet, but if they want to waste powder and shot, that’s fine with me.”
Audie and Nighthawk got their rifles ready to fire, too, and the three men waited patiently as their enemies galloped closer and closer. More shots blasted out from Cobey’s group, and some of the balls came close enough for Preacher to hear them. Finally, he said, “I reckon that’ll do,” and calmly lifted his rifle to his shoulder.
He could see Cobey, so naturally he drew his bead on the leader, announcing it so that Audie and Nighthawk could choose different targets. No more words were necessary. Preacher took a deep breath and stroked the trigger.
The rifle boomed and kicked and geysered smoke. When the gray cloud cleared, Preacher saw that two saddles had been emptied. Unfortunately, neither of them belonged to Cobey. Two of the Mexican soldiers were down. Either Preacher’s shot had missed entirely, or the ball had gone past Cobey and struck one of the soldiers. Didn’t really matter. Preacher was glad to have inflicted some damage on the enemy but disappointed that Cobey was still drawing breath.
He said, “Let’s go,” and wheeled Horse around. Audie and Nighthawk turned their mounts as well, and the three men galloped after the wagons, reloading as they rode. That was a tricky business, but they all had plenty of experience at it.
When they were ready, Preacher reined in and turned Horse again. Three more shots rang out, and another Mexican soldier hit the dirt. A second one reeled in the saddle and clutched a wounded shoulder, but he didn’t fall.
“It’s me, I’m afraid,” Audie said with a sigh. “With its shorter barrel, this rifle of mine doesn’t have quite the carrying power it needs for this fight.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Preacher told him. “I reckon the range will be closer later.”
“Undoubtedly correct. Well, we’ve accounted for three of them, at least.”
“Yeah, and they’re slowin’ down. Cobey may have got those Mex troopers to work with him somehow, but right about now they’re startin’ to wonder if they’ve made a mistake.”
“Ummm,” Nighthawk said.
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s light a shuck outta here.”
They raced on toward the mission. As they came in sight of the old, tumbled-down walls, they saw the wagons rolling into the shelter of the ruined sanctuary. Remembering what had happened here before, Preacher muttered, “I hope they remember to keep their eyes open for snakes.”
“The ruins are populated by serpents?” Audie asked.
“Diamondbacks. Big fat ones.”
A shudder went through the little man. “I hate snakes.”
“You and me, both,” Preacher said.
They rode on, and minutes later entered the ruins themselves. Preacher noted with approval that the Yaquis had pulled the wagons behind the wall that had the most of it remaining. It was high enough to completely shield the vehicles.
He and Audie and Nighthawk dismounted and led their horses into a corner where they would be protected from two directions. Then Preacher walked quickly over to the wagons and found Esteban, Juanita, and Father Hortensio waiting for him. “Good job gettin’ here fast like you did,” he told them. “We got a chance now.”
“Yes, but how much of one?” Father Hortensio said. “We’re outnumbered again, are we not?”
“Yeah, but we got the fort,” Preacher replied with a grin. “They got to bring the fight to us on our ground.”
“On the Lord’s ground,” the priest corrected.
“Yeah,” Preacher agreed with a glance toward the riders, who had come to a stop about three hundred yards away. “But it’s liable to be a dark and bloody ground before the sun gets much higher in the sky.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“Damn it, don’t you want to be rich, you spineless bastards?” Cobey shouted at the Mexican soldiers as they hesitated.
Arnie translated, couching the question in more diplomatic terms. One of the soldiers, a corporal named Ruiz who seemed to be their spokesman, said, “We will fight, but the gringos are dead shots, Señor.”
Professor Chambers edged his horse forward. “Perhaps I can be of assistance here,” he said.
Cobey glanced sharply at him. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Why don’t I ride out there under a flag of truce and talk to them? Preacher struck me as being a reasonable man.”
Cobey snorted in contempt. “There ain’t nothin’ reasonable about that mountain man! You ride out there under a white flag and he’s liable to shoot you right off your horse!”
“I don’t think so,” Chambers replied coolly. “At any rate, it’s my own life I’m risking, and since I know you don’t have a very high opinion of my fighting ability, it doesn’t seem to me that you’d be risking very much.”
“Ain’t that the truth! All right, Professor, if that’s what you want to do, have at it. The rest of us will sit back here until you’ve got yourself killed, and then we’ll go get that treasure.”
“Very well.” Chambers pulled out a handkerchief and tied it onto the barrel of the rifle he had been carrying, which had originally belonged to Chuck Stilson. He propped the butt of the weapon on the saddle so that the barrel stuck up in the air and heeled his horse into a walk.
Cobey watched him go and then said to Arnie, “What’s he gonna say to ’em? You think this is gonna do us any good?”
Arnie shrugged. “Like the professor said, we ain’t riskin’ much to find out, are we?”
“One of them is coming,” Audie called to Preacher, who walked over to the wall to have a look.
“Only one?”
“Yes, and he’s under a flag of truce.” Audie looked at Preacher. “I assume you intend to honor it?”
“I reckon,” Preacher said grudgingly. He had recognized the rider by now. “Although there’s a part o’ me wants to blow the son of a bitch out of the saddle. That’s Professor Chambers, the fella who roped Cobey and his bunch into this business in the first place.”
“I see. A scholar. I’d probably enjoy a conversation with him, under different circumstances.”
Chambers was about fifty feet from the ruins now. Without stepping out into view, because he didn’t trust Cobey not to take a potshot at him if he did, Preacher called around the edge of the collapsed wall, “That’s far enough, Professor. What do you want?”
“Just a few minutes of your time, Preacher,” Chambers lifted his voice to reply. “Could you step out where I can see you better?”
“Nope.”
Chambers was close enough so that Preacher heard his low laugh. “I can’t say as I blame you, my friend.”
“I ain’t your friend,” Preacher pointed out. “Now speak your piece.”
“Very well. Cobey thinks that I’m here to negotiate with you, that I’ll promise you something like freedom for you and your companions if you’ll give us the treasure, or some such patently false proposal.”
“You’re sayin’ Cobey don’t inten
d to let us go no matter what we do?”
“Exactly. Nor does he intend to let me live.” Chambers took a deep breath. “So I’m not negotiating, Preacher. I’m asking if you’ll allow me to come in and join you.”
The others had come over to the wall to listen to the conversation between Preacher and Chambers, and when the professor made his plea, Esteban exclaimed, “No!”
Juanita laid a hand on her brother’s arm. “Perhaps we should consider it, Esteban. He would be one more to fight on our side.”
When Preacher didn’t reply immediately, Chambers went on. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. But you can ask the señorita. When she was a prisoner, she and I had begun to work out the details of an agreement. I was going to turn on Cobey and the others and help her. Ask her if that’s not the case.”
Juanita nodded. “Es verdad. The professor did promise to help me.”
“Never had to see whether or not he’d have gone through with it,” Preacher pointed out in a growling voice. “But I reckon it’s true enough Cobey plans to double-cross him, and Chambers is smart enough to know that. And he’d be one more gun on our side, all right.”
“It’s up to you, Preacher,” Audie said.
“Ummm,” Nighthawk said.
Preacher turned back to the wall and called over it, “You realize that even if you join us, Professor, we’ll still be outnumbered by two to one.”
“I know,” Chambers said. “But if I stay with Cobey, my chances of surviving the day are nil. At least with you, I’d have a slim chance of living through this.”
“Reckon you could look at it like that.” Preacher made up his mind. “All right, Professor. Come on in. Best be quick about it, though. Once Cobey realizes you’ve betrayed him, he’s liable to try to shoot you out o’ the saddle.”
“Yes, I know.” Chambers eased his horse closer to the wall, aiming for an area that was only about two feet tall. “Here I come.”
He jammed his heels into his horse’s flanks and sent the animal lunging forward. At the same time he leaned far forward over the horse’s neck, making himself as small a target as possible. Sure enough, Preacher saw several spurts of smoke as Cobey and some of the others fired at Chambers. The distant reports boomed and echoed over the rugged landscape. Rifle balls kicked up dirt around the hooves of Chambers’s horse as the professor hauled back on the reins and sent his mount soaring up and over the remains of the wall.
Preacher's Fortune Page 26
