Under most circumstances, Preacher would have volunteered to help, but as Courtland and Langley had pointed out, the disagreement over the horses was between them. Preacher was determined to stay out of it.
The disagreement over Langley’s wife was between the other two men, as well, and Preacher danged sure intended to stay out of that one. He might have to witness more of it at supper, but he was determined to remain strictly a bystander.
He went into the trading post and found it to be large and reasonably well stocked, although some of the shelves were bare. Ethan Langley stood behind the counter at the rear, where he sold goods and traded for pelts, which was his main job. By the end of summer, the big log warehouse on one side of the post ought to be full of beaver pelts.
Langley gave Preacher a nod that was civil, if not overly friendly. “I owe you a bit of an apology.”
“How do you figure that?” Preacher asked.
“When I found out Courtland was the leader of the group you came in with, I was angry with you as well. But Harrigan told me you hadn’t really been traveling with Courtland for very long, that you just joined forces with them because a Blackfoot war party was on the prowl.”
“Courtland keeps talkin’ about makin’ me a partner in his horse-tradin’ business because I gave him a hand, but I don’t want any part of it. I was tryin’ to help those fellas get here without losin’ their hair.”
“You’re right not to make any sort of deal with Courtland. He’s not to be trusted.”
Preacher shook his head. “Wouldn’t know about that.”
“I would. I saw how miserable he made my wife back in Missouri.”
“But she wasn’t your wife then.” Silently, Preacher chided himself for ignoring his vow not to get curious about those folks and their personal problems, but it was too late.
Langley said, “That’s right. We were both courting her. Judith was a young widow, and one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known. You’ve seen her.”
“She’s a handsome woman,” Preacher said carefully.
Langley laughed, but he didn’t sound particularly amused. “She’s more than that. She had men swarming around her like flies. But she narrowed her choices down to me and Courtland . . . and he lost.”
“He didn’t take it kindly?” Preacher guessed.
“You could say that. He was very angry with her. Told her she was making a huge mistake and that I would never amount to anything. I told him to stay away from her and not bother her anymore.” Langley hesitated. “I’m afraid the argument came to blows.”
“Who won?”
“I handed him quite a thrashing,” Langley said with a note of pride in his voice.
From behind him, Judith said, “You don’t have to boast about it.” She frowned at her husband.
Preacher looked past Langley and saw that she had come through a door behind the counter that undoubtedly led to their living quarters.
“I wasn’t trying to boast,” Langley pointed out. “It’s true, though. I gave Courtland exactly what he deserved.”
“The way I saw it, you both deserved the lumps you got,” Judith chided. “Brawling like a couple of schoolboys. You should have been ashamed.”
“For standing up for the woman I love? Never!”
“You weren’t standing up for me. You took offense at the things Wiley said about you.”
“Well, who wouldn’t?” Langley wanted to know.
Judith sniffed and turned away from him. “I think we’ve aired quite enough of our dirty laundry in front of Preacher.” She smiled at the mountain man. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that.”
“Shucks, ma’am, I don’t pay it no never mind,” he told her.
“Supper will be ready in a little while. Until then, why don’t you break out the cider, Ethan?”
Langley chuckled. “That sounds like a good idea. Could I interest you in a cup of cider, Preacher?”
“You sure could.”
Judith went back to the couple’s quarters while Langley got a jug and a couple of cups from under the counter. He filled them about half full of amber liquid from the jug and handed one of them to Preacher.
“It’s pretty strong,” Langley warned.
“Most of the whiskey you find out here will scald the rattles right off a rattlesnake.” Preacher grinned. “This can’t be any stronger than that.”
He clinked his cup against Langley’s and took a drink of the cider. It had a kick, all right, but a mild one. It was smooth and tasted good.
He was about to say as much when the door of the trading post opened and Courtland came in. Langley stiffened at the sight of his old rival for Judith’s affections.
Courtland wasn’t wearing the coonskin cap or his rough work clothes anymore. He had put on a pair of tight trousers and a waistcoat with a frilly white shirt under it. He had even donned a cravat. He was probably the fanciest-dressed fella who had ever set foot in Fort Gifford, Preacher thought.
Catching sight of the cups Preacher and Langley were holding, Courtland quipped, “Well, are you going to offer me a drink, too?”
Judith heard his voice, and before her husband could answer, she emerged from the living quarters again and exclaimed, “Oh, my word! Wiley, I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve seen in a long, long time. Certainly since we came out here to this wilderness.”
“Why, thank you. I dressed so you’d know I’m honored by your invitation.”
She came out from behind the counter and hurried along the aisle toward him. Linking her arm with his as she had done earlier, she led him toward the rear of the big, high-ceilinged room. “Come on back to our parlor. It’s nothing like what you’re used to in St. Louis, but I’ve tried to make the surroundings as comfortable and homey as possible.”
Courland didn’t pull away. “I’m sure it’ll be lovely.” As he walked past Langley with Judith, he smiled.
Langley returned the smug look with a murderous glare.
Preacher wondered if Judith truly didn’t know what she was doing.
Innocent or not, she had just lit the fuse under a powder keg.
CHAPTER 17
Langley motioned for Preacher to follow him. The two of them went into the rear section of the building behind Judith and Courtland.
She must have packed several wagons full of furnishings to bring with her, Preacher thought as he looked around. The main room of the booshwa’s living quarters had a good-sized dining table on one side, with six chairs around it. The table was covered with a white linen cloth. A china cabinet and sideboard sat against the wall nearby.
On the other side of the room, near the fireplace, were two comfortable-looking rocking chairs, one with a smaller table beside it. A loom stood within easy reach. Tucked into one corner of the room was a desk, and in another corner was a pianoforte and a bench.
Preacher could picture the two of them on a normal evening, Langley sitting at the desk going over the outpost’s accounts while Judith played the pianoforte or worked on the loom. It was a nice domestic image, the sort that would appeal to most men.
Not to Preacher, though. All those things were nice, but to a man like him, they would be almost the same as shackles. He would chafe against their confinement just as much.
It was all right to visit this world, though, he thought as he walked across the thick rug laid in the center of the room.
An open door led into a small kitchen with a wood-burning stove, something else hauled out by wagon. Clearly, Langley wanted his wife to have some of the comforts of a home back East, even though she was living in a largely untamed wilderness.
The food was already on the table—a platter piled high with antelope steaks, another filled with biscuits, and a bowl of greens from the garden.
“I’m sorry we don’t have any more vegetables than this,” Judith apologized. “It’s too early in the season. But the next time you’re here, I’ll have potatoes and carrots and onions.”
“I’
m sure this will be delicious,” Courtland said. “It’ll certainly be much better than what we’ve been eating on the trail.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Preacher added. “Them steaks smell plumb mouth-waterin’.”
Judith waved a hand at the table. “Please, have a seat. I’ll fetch the coffee.”
The men moved toward the table. Standing fairly close to the chair at one end, Courtland reached out and started to pull it back so he could sit down.
“That’s my seat,” Langley said, his voice sharp.
“Oh, really?” Courtland replied coolly. “I thought since I’m a guest, you might want me to have it.”
“Not hardly,” Langley said through gritted teeth.
Preacher managed not to growl in exasperation at their posturing, but it wasn’t easy. He pointed to one of the chairs on Langley’s left. “Wiley, why don’t you sit there?”
Putting his hand on the back of the closer chair on that side of the table, Preacher claimed it so he would be sitting between Courtland and Langley. It was like riding herd on a couple of squabbling kids, he thought. And he didn’t like it.
Cooperating, Courtland sat down where Preacher indicated. Langley took the seat at the head of the table. The awkward silence that followed lasted only a moment, until Judith spoke as she returned from the kitchen carrying a tray with four china cups on it. “Here we are.”
After that, the atmosphere didn’t get all that much less awkward. She handed each of the men a cup, starting with her husband.
“We’ll say grace,” Langley said once Judith sat down at his right hand.
Preacher bowed his head while Langley asked the Lord’s blessing on the meal. He wasn’t looking, but he would have been willing to bet that Langley and Courtland were still shooting venomous glances at each other, even during the prayer.
“All right, everyone, help yourselves,” Judith said when they all looked up again.
Preacher dug in, delighted when he found everything tasted even better than it smelled. He wouldn’t want to make a habit of it, but having a home-cooked meal was a real treat. He washed the food down with sips of black coffee almost strong enough to get up and walk around by itself, just the way he liked it.
“So, you’ve become a horse trader, Wiley,” Judith said as they ate. “I must say, I’m not surprised. Working in the freight business, you were around horses all the time.”
“That’s right,” Courtland said. “I think I’ve become a pretty good judge of horseflesh over the years. It’s easy to pick out the real thoroughbreds just by looking at the clean, smooth lines of them.”
Langley frowned. They were talking about horses, but clearly he thought Courtland actually meant something else.
And it was possible that was true, Preacher mused. He had seen for himself how Courtland liked to pick at Langley.
The booshwa had one huge advantage, though. He had wound up with the woman both of them wanted.
Judith had an inkling of what was going on, and changed the subject. “Why don’t you tell Preacher how the two of us met, Ethan?”
Preacher didn’t have a lick of interest in hearing that story, but he gave a half-hearted smile around a mouthful of antelope steak and nodded to Langley. That would be better than listening to the other two men snipe at each other.
Langley took a sip of his coffee. “I was working at a store in St. Louis.”
“You ran the place,” Judith put in.
Langley shrugged. “I did, but someone else owned it. That doesn’t mean I avoided the hard work. One day I was unloading some bags of flour from a wagon, tossing them from the wagon bed into a wheelbarrow so they could be taken inside.”
“Those were big, heavy bags, too,” Judith explained, “but Ethan didn’t have any trouble handling them.”
Again he shrugged, downplaying his strength. “I wouldn’t go quite that far, because I did have some trouble. I tossed one of the bags too hard, and it went over the wheelbarrow and fell on the loading dock. It busted open, and flour dust flew up into a cloud. Unfortunately, the bag had landed right next to—”
“Me!” Judith interrupted with a smile. “I was covered with dust almost head to foot! I’m sure I was quite a sight.”
Langley smiled at the memory, too. “You were,” he agreed. “You looked like a ghost, all covered with that white dust like that.” He paused. “A beautiful ghost.”
“I agree,” Courtland said. “I thought you looked beautiful, too. It would take more than a little flour dust to change that.”
“You were there, too?” Preacher asked, then gave himself a mental kick for encouraging them.
“Yes, what Ethan neglected to tell you is that it was a wagon from my freight line delivering the flour to the store,” Courtland said. “I wasn’t driving, but I had come along to supervise the delivery. And that’s why Judith was there in the first place, because I’d told her I’d be there. She was coming to see me.”
“It’s true, I knew Wiley first. He was a dear friend.” Judith paused. “I hope he still is.”
“Of course.” Courtland smiled. “But I was more than that back then. I was a serious suitor for your hand.”
“That didn’t last long after she met me,” Langley snapped.
“Please, Ethan.” Judith looked like she wished she hadn’t brought up that bit of personal history. “We should leave all the hard feelings in the past. There’s no need for them now. Everything is settled.”
Courtland said, “That’s right. Judith is your wife, Langley. I just want to be friends with both of you.”
Langley’s expression made it clear he didn’t believe that for a second.
Neither did Preacher, for that matter, but it was none of his business.
He was going to keep telling himself that until he left Fort Gifford . . . which might be pretty soon after all, the way things were going.
The tension didn’t lessen throughout the meal. Courtland and Langley couldn’t go more than a few minutes without one insulting the other or commenting on their rivalry for Judith.
She was increasingly aware of it, and it embarrassed her.
When the meal was finally over, she cleared the table. Preacher could see the relief in her expression as she left the room with plates and silverware.
“I brought some brandy with me,” Langley said. “Could I offer each of you gentlemen a glass?”
Preacher heard the scorn in the booshwa’s voice, and it irritated him. Even though Langley had apologized for getting angry at him because he’d come to the fort with Courtland, it appeared the man still wasn’t very fond of him.
That was fine with Preacher. He didn’t care one way or the other and didn’t intend to be there long enough for it to make any difference whether Langley liked him or not. Once he put together a good load of pelts, he would trade them at Fort Union not Fort Gifford.
“Brandy, eh?” Courtland drawled. “I didn’t know you had an appreciation for the finer things in life, Langley.”
“You should have known,” Langley shot right back. “I married Judith, didn’t I? A man couldn’t find anything much finer in this world than her.”
Courtland’s jaw tightened. “I can’t argue with that. I could point out, however, that sometimes a man winds up with something much finer than he really deserves.”
“Oh, I think things generally work out pretty much like they’re supposed to.”
Courtland’s eyes narrowed, and he placed his hands flat on the edge of the table as if he were about to push himself to his feet. Langley tensed.
Preacher was between them and intended to stay there. As a courtesy to Judith, he figured he ought to keep the two fellas from fighting. She wouldn’t want a brawl breaking out in her home.
Langley made a visible effort to relax, forcing a smile onto his face again. “I’ll get that brandy.”
He walked over to the nearby cabinet and took three heavy crystal tumblers from it. From a matching decanter, he splashed a couple of inches of am
ber liquid into each glass and carried them back to the table. He brought one of the tumblers to Preacher and went back to get the other two.
Preacher and Courtland got to their feet, and Courtland lifted his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast.”
Langley’s eyes were suspicious, but he said, “I suppose you’ve got a right to do that. Go ahead.”
“To Judith. I wish her only the best . . . even though she deserves better than what she got.”
“Dadgum it—” Preacher began as Langley’s face flushed a deep red and twisted with anger.
With a flick of his wrist, the booshwa flung the brandy in his glass right into Courtland’s smirk.
CHAPTER 18
Courtland was so shocked he seemed frozen into immobility for a second, brandy dripping from his face. But only for a second. Then he let out an enraged roar and lunged at Langley, swinging the glass in his hand as if he intended to smash it against the booshwa’s head.
Preacher moved quicker, blocking Courtland’s charge with his body and grabbing the man’s wrist. He stopped Courtland from attacking Langley.
Not that Langley deserved protecting after pulling a stunt like that. If Courtland had bashed him in the head, Langley would have had it coming.
Preacher hung on to Courtland’s wrist with his left hand, wrapped his right arm around Courtland’s body, and wrestled the horse trader toward the door.
“What’s going on out here?” Judith cried from behind them. “What was that shout? Ethan, what did you do?”
“What any man would who found a predator in his house. I’m getting rid of it.”
Courtland yelled at Preacher, “Let go of me, damn you! He’s been asking for this for a long time!”
“Not here, blast it!” Preacher told him. “It ain’t decent.”
“Just let me at him!” Courtland raved. “I’ll show Judith she picked the wrong man. She ought to be with me, not him!”
With her hands pressed together in front of her, almost like she was praying, she came toward them. “Oh, Wiley, please, don’t act like this. I never wanted to hurt you—”
“Well, you did!” Courtland shot back at her. “Worse than that, you hurt yourself. You should have a fine home back East, not this . . . this squalid little hovel in the middle of the wilderness!”
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