“Why, thank you, sir. Thank you very much!”
“Room eleven, you said?”
“Yes, sir. Top of the stairs and then along the corridor to the right.”
Preacher nodded his thanks and went to the stairs. As he climbed them, he hoped that Adelaide would be packed and ready to go. He had told her the night before that they would take the train this morning. However, he wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t quite ready. He knew enough about women to be prepared for that possibility, even though he had spent many, many years on the frontier, far away from any females.
He reached the top of the stairs and turned right, and as he did, he came to a sudden stop. His muscles tensed at the sight of a man standing in the open doorway of room eleven, talking to someone inside who could only be Adelaide.
The stranger’s face was red with anger, and his jaw was clenched tightly even as he spoke. He looked like he was about to step into the room, but then Adelaide appeared in the doorway and put a hand on his chest to try to hold him out. She glanced over the man’s shoulder, with fear contorting her face, and when she spotted the mountain man, she screamed, “Preacher! Help!”
CHAPTER 19
The years might have slowed Preacher down a little compared to when he was young, but he was still faster and more efficient in his reactions than most men. He moved swiftly along the hall toward Adelaide’s room as he shouted, “Leave that lady alone, you rapscallion!”
The man turned to face Preacher. He was around forty years old, beefy, wearing a brown tweed suit and a dark brown bowler. A thick brown mustache flowed out from both sides of his mouth to join bushy side whiskers. His nose appeared to have been broken more than once.
“Back off, old man,” he warned Preacher. “This is none of your business.”
“I’m makin’ it my business,” Preacher declared. He yanked the derringer out of his pocket. He was close enough to use the little gun now.
The stranger’s eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. He exclaimed, “Son of a—” His hand dived under his suit coat and started clawing at something.
Preacher had no doubt the man was going for a gun. He snapped one of the derringer’s triggers. The derringer’s vicious bark filled the hallway. The man took a big step back, howled in pain, and clapped his left hand to his left ear. Blood trickled between his fingers.
“You loco old coot!” he yelled. Whatever he had been trying to get out of his coat, he had forgotten it in the pain of being wounded. With a bull-like shake of his head that sent drops of blood splattering on the wallpaper, he turned and plunged toward the far end of the hallway. Preacher saw the entrance to a flight of stairs down there.
He had drawn even with the open door of Adelaide’s room now. He started to line the derringer on the fleeing man’s back, but before he could pull the trigger, Adelaide came out into the hall, caught hold of his arm, and pulled it down.
“Preacher, no!” she said.
“But the bast—the varmint’s gettin’ away!”
“I don’t want you to kill him.”
Preacher understood suddenly, or thought he did.
“That was your grandson?” he asked.
Adelaide shook her head. “No, but George hired him. He was supposed to make me go with him. I’m sure he would have taken me to George.”
The man reached the stairs, turned the corner onto them, and started down, with his heavy footsteps echoing in the stairwell.
Preacher said, “Let me go after him. I’ll catch the fella and turn him over to the law.”
She just held on to him even harder and said, “No, Preacher, please. Don’t leave me. George himself could be lurking somewhere nearby. I’m so frightened right now—”
She threw her arms around his neck. Instinctively, Preacher folded his arms around her to comfort her.
“All right, all right,” he told her. “I reckon I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You don’t have to worry about that no-good varmint. I’ll be right with you and won’t let him come anywhere near you, nor anybody else who means you harm.”
She pressed her head to his chest and said, “Thank you, Preacher. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
A little awkwardly, he patted her on the back with the hand that wasn’t holding the derringer.
“It’s all gonna be all right. If you’ve got your things together, we’ll head on down to the railroad station, and before too much longer, we’ll be on our way to Big Rock and then to the Sugarloaf.”
“Your friend’s ranch?”
“Yep. Won’t nothin’ bad happen to you there. I guarantee it.”
A little shudder ran through her. She said, “That man may try to follow us.”
“I don’t reckon he will, the way he took off from here. Anyway, he’s got other things to worry about right now.” Preacher grinned. “Like the way I just about plumb shot off his ear.”
Adelaide straightened some, tipped her head back to look up at him, and said, “You did what?”
“Yeah, it looked like that was where I nicked him. He’s lucky the light ain’t that good up here in this hall, and I hurried my shot a mite, too.”
“He’s lucky that you almost shot his ear off?”
“Yep,” said Preacher. “I was aimin’ between the son of a gun’s eyes.”
* * *
They made it to the train station with time to spare, Preacher having hired a carriage to take them there. Adelaide had only two small bags with her, so in that way, at least, she was different from most of the ladies Preacher had had any dealings with. Most of them, when they traveled, took along enough to outfit a fur-trapping expedition.
This trip wouldn’t be a long one. The train would arrive in Big Rock that afternoon, and once they were there, Preacher could rent a buggy or a buckboard at Patterson’s Livery to take them the rest of the way to the Sugarloaf. By nightfall, they would be safe in the ranch house and Adelaide could relax. It would take an army to get to her there, and depending on how many Jensens were on hand, Preacher wasn’t sure even that would be enough.
As they sat on the comfortable bench seat and the train lurched a little as it pulled out of the station, Adelaide sighed and said, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Arthur. I mean, Preacher.”
“That’s all right,” he told her. “You call me whatever you want.”
He was sitting by the window, and Adelaide was next to the aisle. Preacher’s right hand rested on his thigh. She took it in both hands and held it tightly. She leaned over to rest her head against his shoulder.
“I don’t dare even think about what might have happened if you hadn’t come to my rescue,” she murmured. “I wish I could have you with me always, to look out for me.”
Preacher cleared his throat and said, “There, there. I’m sure everything’s gonna be fine.”
“I am, too . . . now.”
She sighed and snuggled closer against him. Preacher looked straight ahead for the most part, but from time to time, his eyes darted toward the window and the landscape that rolled past as the train began to pick up speed.
* * *
The black porter was trying not to stare at the bloody rag tied onto the side of Jed Avery’s head, but he wasn’t succeeding very well. Avery was aware of the scrutiny, and it irritated the hell out of him.
They were standing in a corner of the train station lobby, out of the ebb and flow of passengers arriving and departing.
“Well?” Avery demanded. “Where are they going?”
The porter didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “What happened to your head, mister?”
Avery bit back an angry curse and said, “Never mind about my damn head. Where did the old man and woman go?” He scowled. “If you didn’t find out, I’ll be taking back that dollar I gave you, you—”
“Hold on, hold on, mister. Sorry. I done found out what you want to know. That old couple, they’s headed to Big Rock. A friend o’ mine loaded their bags, an
d he seen the tags on ’em.”
“Big Rock,” Avery repeated.
“Yes, sir. It’s a town up in Eagle County, north and west o’ here. Mighty pretty country, I hear tell.”
Avery couldn’t give less of a damn about the scenery. He said, “How long will it take them to get there?”
“Should roll in about three o’clock this afternoon. It ain’t a long trip. That is, if the train’s on schedule, and the engineer on this run, Red Ralston, he’s a pure demon for stayin’ on schedule. Why, if he gets even a little late, he’ll highball it on the straight stretches—”
Avery shut up the man’s jabbering by tossing him another half-dollar. “There. You never saw me. Got that?”
The porter had caught the coin deftly and made it disappear into his pocket even more smoothly. He nodded and said, “I never laid eyes on you, mister.”
Avery grunted and started to turn away.
The porter added, “I surely do think you need to get that head looked at, though. Whatever happened to you, it must hurt like blazes.”
Avery just growled and kept moving toward the lobby doors. As he pushed out through them into the cold, cloudy day, a buggy pulled up on the brick street in front of the station. The well-dressed man who hurriedly climbed out of it stopped abruptly at the sight of Avery.
“What happened to you?” he asked. He gestured at the makeshift bandage on Avery’s head.
“That old bastard shot me.”
“What old bastard?”
“The one traveling with your grandmother. When you hired me to find her, DuBois, you didn’t tell me she had taken up with some crazy old mountain man!”
For a moment, George DuBois didn’t say anything. He was around thirty-five, clean shaven, with fair hair under his hat. He wore spectacles over cold blue eyes. Finally, he sighed and said, “How badly are you hurt?”
“Well, this ear will never be the same, I can tell you that. I don’t know how bad it is. I haven’t been to the doctor yet.” A note of pride entered Avery’s voice as he went on, “I’m a good detective. I figured it was more important to follow them and find out where they were going.”
“And did you? Find out where they’re going?”
“Some place northwest of here called Big Rock. If you’d been here a little sooner, you could have stopped them, or at least gotten on the same train.”
“I got here as soon as I received your message,” DuBois said, sounding irritated himself now. “And as long as I know their destination, I can find a way there. I’ve been on her trail for quite awhile now . . .” His words trailed off, and he sighed. “I’ll see to it that you get a bonus for your injury. I didn’t know about the old man, but I’m not surprised she found someone to take care of her. She’s always had a knack for doing that.” His voice hardened again. “But it won’t matter.”
Avery frowned as he asked, “Just what are you gonna do to get what you want?”
“Whatever it takes,” George DuBois said.
CHAPTER 20
Utah
Luke knew good and well that the liveryman and the storekeeper in Amity had gouged him on the prices of his purchases, but he couldn’t do anything about that. They had had him over the proverbial barrel. Buying the wagon and team he needed to carry the three Trafford children, plus the supplies that the trip to Sugarloaf would require, had just about wiped him out.
It was good to leave the settlement’s hostility behind, though. He glanced over at Bodie, the oldest of the three youngsters, who rode on the driver’s seat beside him while Luke handled the reins. The boy looked out ahead of the wagon with a certain eagerness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before, thought Luke. As if Bodie wanted a fresh start for himself and his brother and sister . . .
Hannah and Teddy rode in the wagon bed, among the crates and bags of supplies. Luke had piled all the blankets he had bought around them to form a nest of sorts, to help keep them warm. They were playing some sort of word game that involved bursting out in laughter now and then. Since they seemed to be satisfied back there, Luke wasn’t going to bother them.
He spoke to Bodie, though, in a voice quiet enough that the other two kids wouldn’t be able to make it out over the rumble and creak of the wagon wheels.
“I’m mighty sorry about your pa,” he said to the boy.
Bodie looked up at him with a slight frown and asked, “Why? Marshal Rowan said he was tryin’ to kill you when you shot him. Don’t seem like there was anything else you could do.”
“I would have rather taken him in alive.”
“He never would’ve stood for that,” Bodie replied with a shake of his head. “I reckon he’d think it was better you shot him. Anyway, what would’ve happened if you took him alive?”
Luke avoided a direct answer to that, saying, “That would have been up to a court somewhere. To a judge and jury.”
“I reckon they would’ve stretched his neck,” Bodie said solemnly. “He would’ve had it comin’, too. My ma said he was a bad man. She guessed he always was. She just didn’t see it at first.”
Luke wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wasn’t going to lie to the boy. Hank Trafford had been a bad man, all right, no doubt about that. Did any son need to hear that about his father, though?
Instead, he asked, “Have you ever driven a wagon before?”
That question made Bodie perk up even more. He said, “No. Are you gonna let me drive, Mr. Jensen?”
“Not today, but we’ll see. It’ll take a while to get where we’re going. I’ll probably need somebody to spell me at the reins now and then.”
“I can do that,” Bodie said. It was good to see that eagerness in his face and hear it in his voice, thought Luke.
They traveled on toward Fillmore, which, Luke recalled, had been the first capital of Utah Territory, before the seat of government was moved to Salt Lake City. He had been there before, but it had been a number of years since his last visit.
He knew they wouldn’t reach the town today, so he kept an eye out for a good place to camp. He wanted to get out of the weather as much as possible. They were traveling through a valley running roughly north and south between two small mountain ranges. The peaks were tall enough to funnel all the cold air right down the valley, into the faces of anybody heading north, as Luke and his three young companions were doing.
When he spotted a rocky outcropping to the left that would block that frigid wind, he angled the wagon toward it with a feeling of relief. At this time of year, darkness came early, and with the thick overcast in the sky, night would fall even more quickly than usual.
Teddy climbed over the wall of stacked-up blankets and leaned on the back of the driver’s seat.
“Is that where we’re gonna camp?” he asked in his high-pitched voice.
“Yes, it is,” Luke answered. “Does the place look all right to you?”
“Sure,” Teddy said, sounding surprised that anybody would ask him for his opinion.
Hannah joined him in leaning over the seat and said, “It’s cold.”
“I know, honey. But we’ll be behind those rocks soon, and I’ll build a fire. It’ll be nice and warm.”
Luke knew that more than likely, the camp wouldn’t really be all that warm, but it would be considerably better than being out in the open. If he built a good fire and the kids piled plenty of blankets on themselves, they would be all right.
Fifteen years earlier, it might have been worth a man’s life to build a big fire out here. The Utes and the Paiutes were still on the warpath then, the Navajo weren’t exactly friendly, and there were even some Apaches around these parts who would have been happy to wipe out any white travelers they came across. In those days, a fire drew way too much unwanted attention. It was better to risk freezing to death.
Now the Indians were peaceful for the most part. Some were on reservations, while others had withdrawn deeply into the mountain fastnesses and wanted only to be left alone. Luke was glad to oblige them on that sco
re.
The air felt less chilly as soon as Luke drove the wagon behind the outcropping. He maneuvered into a good place and then pulled back on the reins to bring the four-horse team to a stop. Some small, scrubby trees grew nearby. Luke had a hatchet in his gear that he could use to chop branches off them for the fire.
“Bodie, climb back there and sit with your brother and sister until I get the camp set up.”
“I can help,” the boy said.
“No, that’s all right. Just do what I said.”
Bodie didn’t look very happy about that, but he climbed over the seat and settled down in the wagon bed with Hannah and Teddy. Luke told himself to come up with some chores for the boy to do later, to make him feel better about things, more like he was contributing. But right now, Luke didn’t know Bodie well enough to say what he could or couldn’t be trusted to do.
The first thing was to get the team unhitched. In country like this, a man took care of his horses, because he had to rely on his horses to take care of him. They all worked together to survive and get where they were going.
Luke tied the horses from the team to the trees and then untethered his saddle mount from the back of the wagon and moved him over to join the other animals. He rubbed down the team, gave them water from a bucket, and put nose bags of grain on them.
With that done, he turned his attention to building a fire and soon had an armful of firewood. He arranged it in the lee of some huge rocks, which would protect the fire from the wind and reflect the heat from the flames. Using the bowie knife that was sheathed behind his left-hand Remington, he peeled shavings from one of the branches to use as tinder. When he snapped a lucifer to life with his thumbnail and held the burning match to the thin slivers, they caught fire. Quickly, he added small branches. Soon, flames were jumping up strongly enough that he knew they wouldn’t go out.
“All right, you kids,” he called to the three youngsters. “Come on over here and warm up some.”
Bodie climbed out of the wagon first and helped Hannah and Teddy to the ground. Luke was glad to see the boy giving his brother and sister a hand. Bodie had that solemn expression on his face again. He was older than his years, Luke thought. He’d probably been looking out for the little ones for quite a while. That was sad, in a way—Bodie hadn’t had a chance to be just a kid for long enough—but learning how to be responsible at a young age wasn’t a bad thing, either.
A Jensen Family Christmas Page 13