Preacher's Blood Hunt

by William W. Johnstone

  Blood Eye didn’t say anything.

  Druke had a hunch that the renegade Crow was unaware of the cave’s existence, but didn’t want to admit it.

  “Whoever it was that helped ’em escape, chances are they’ll head for the hideout Gardner and Gray Otter have been using,” Druke continued. “That’s where we’re going to start looking for them.”

  “I go alone.”

  “No, I’m coming with you,” Druke insisted. “My men will start bringing in the horses any minute now, and I’m claiming the first one.” He looked over at Turner. “Sam, fetch my rifle and plenty of powder and shot.”

  “You bet, Jebediah.” Turner scurried away to obey the order.

  “I go alone,” Blood Eye said again, stubbornly.

  “Not this time,” Druke said. “When we find Gardner, Gray Otter, and the one who helped them get away, I’m going to be there to take care of them myself.”

  Most of the night was gone by the time Preacher rolled himself in one of the buffalo robes on the floor of the cave and went to sleep. Gardner had said that he and Gray Otter would take turns standing guard in the hours of darkness that were left.

  Weariness quickly caught up with Preacher. He had the frontiersman’s knack of being able to drop off to sleep whenever he had the chance. He slept deeply, although a small part of him remained alert for trouble, allowing him to wake up instantly whenever he needed to.

  Dog hadn’t come into the cave, but Preacher knew the big cur was somewhere in the vicinity. He was the best sentry of all, but Preacher didn’t say that to Gardner and Gray Otter. No need to hurt their feelings.

  A change in the light woke Preacher. He opened his eyes to slits so they would adjust quickly. The fire was out, and sunlight slanted into the cave through the tiny gaps around the blanket that closed off the entrance. Preacher knew the sunlight was what had roused him from sleep.

  He heard someone moving around. Gray Otter’s slight figure knelt beside a little pool on the same side of the cave.

  A few feet away, Gardner snored lightly in his robe.

  Gray Otter’s back was turned toward Preacher. As the mountain man watched, Gray Otter grasped the bottom of the buckskin shirt and peeled it off, baring a smooth, golden-skinned back. The reddish hue Preacher expected to see was missing.

  Not only that, but a wide band of white cloth was wrapped around the upper part of Gray Otter’s torso, just under the arms. Preacher didn’t see the point of that unless the Indian had been wounded and the cloth was a bandage.

  Gray Otter leaned forward, lowered cupped hands into the water, and lifted them to wash.

  Something about watching those ablutions made Preacher uncomfortable. The whole thing felt too intimate somehow. He closed his eyes and decided he would just pretend to be asleep for a while yet, until Gray Otter finished.

  The sound of someone else moving around made him change his mind. He opened his eyes again, but just barely.

  Gardner’s snoring had stopped. The young man crawled out of his blankets, stood up, and stretched. He went over to the pool and dropped down on his knees next to Gray Otter.

  Gardner took off his shirt like his friend had, although unlike Gray Otter, once he did he was bare from the waist up. He splashed water on his face and chest and then leaned forward to plunge his whole head into the pool.

  When he came back up he laughed softly. For a second, his wet hair hung forward, rather than dropping down over the back of his neck the way it usually did.

  The light in the cave was actually rather dim, but it was bright enough for Preacher to catch a glimpse of something on the back of Will Gardner’s neck. He stiffened and his eyes opened wider as he realized what he had just seen.

  Gardner had a birthmark on his neck shaped like a half moon.

  Just like William Pendexter was supposed to.

  Preacher closed his eyes for a moment and cursed himself as ten different kinds of fool. He should have suspected long ago that Will Gardner was actually the young man he had come to King’s Crown to find.

  And yet there was no solid reason for him to have done so, he mused, other than the similarity in names . . . and there were a hell of a lot of fellas named William or Will to be found west of the Mississippi, and everywhere else, for that matter. True, Gardner and Pendexter had shown up in this part of the country about the same time, but that didn’t mean anything, either.

  At least he no longer had to feel guilty about the job he had promised Barnabas Pendexter he would do. He had carried out his mission, even without meaning to.

  The discovery he had just made didn’t have any effect on their immediate problems. Druke and Blood Eye would still come after them, and Preacher and his new friends had to deal with that threat somehow.

  Preacher sensed as much as heard more movement and opened his eyes again. He wished he hadn’t as soon as he realized what he was looking at.

  Will Gardner had drawn Gray Otter into his arms. The two of them kissed passionately as they knelt next to the pool. As Gardner embraced Gray Otter, he pulled the band of white cloth down his friend’s back.

  Preacher didn’t much care what folks did in their own bedrolls, but he didn’t particularly want to see what he was seeing. Pretending to be asleep was going to be a mite more difficult, he thought as he squeezed his eyes shut.

  “No, Will, we can’t, not with—”

  Even though the words were whispered, Preacher realized the voice belonged to a woman. Surprise snapped his eyes open and he pushed himself up on one elbow. “What the hell!” he exclaimed.

  A few yards away, Gray Otter gasped and jerked around toward him. That motion revealed small breasts tipped with coral and unmistakably those of a woman. She wailed, “Oh, no!”

  Will Gardner moved quickly in front of her to shield her.

  As for Preacher, he realized that he’d been wrong earlier when he thought he was ten different kinds of fool.

  Twenty kinds was more like it.

  CHAPTER 26

  “We didn’t really mean to lie to anybody,” Will Gardner said a short time later after he and “Gray Otter” were fully dressed again. “It’s just that it was easier—and safer—to let everybody think that Charlotte was a man.”

  “Masquerading as an Indian was my idea,” she said. “I thought it would make people look less closely at me. My hair and skin are dark enough, and Will concocted a dye from some berries that made my hands and face appear slightly more reddish.”

  The three of them were sitting on the buffalo robes in the cave, Gardner and Charlotte side by side and Preacher facing them. So far Preacher hadn’t mentioned the birthmark on the back of Gardner’s neck or the fact that he knew the young man was really William Pendexter.

  It was enough for the moment to deal with “Gray Otter” being a young woman.

  “You’re not angry with us, are you, Preacher?” Will asked.

  Preacher scratched at his beard. “No, I reckon I ain’t exactly mad. It ain’t really any of my business, to start with, and last night we had our hands full gettin’ away from Druke and his bunch. Wasn’t much of a chance to sit down and explain that Gray Otter here is really a gal.” He chuckled. “And to tell you the truth, I was a mite relieved to find that out, instead of what I was thinkin’ for a minute there.”

  Charlotte’s face was plenty red as she looked down at the floor of the cave. “We thought you were sound asleep,” she said quietly.

  “It was my fault,” Will added. “I got carried away—”

  Preacher lifted a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it. I ain’t one to go pokin’ around in other folks’ private business. Right now, we need to figure out what we’re gonna do about Druke and that red-eyed varmint he’s got workin’ for him.” Any revelations about Will’s true identity could wait until later, he thought, as well as an explanation of who Charlotte really was and what she was doing all the way out on the frontier. From the sound of her accent, Preacher figured she was from back east somewh
ere, like Will.

  Maybe they had known each other in Philadelphia, and that was the real reason William Pendexter had run away to the mountains. It could be that her father had forbidden the two of them to be together.

  “Do you really think they’ll come after us?” Charlotte asked. “We’ve been bedeviling Druke and his men for months now. I’m not sure how what happened last night is any different.”

  “Blood Eye wasn’t involved then,” Will said. “You didn’t get as good a look at him as I did. The man’s insane. Once he sets his sights on something, I don’t think anything would stop him except death.”

  The young man paused, then went on. “There’s something else to consider, Charlotte. I’m not sure how he figured it out, but I believe there’s a good chance he knows that you’re a woman.”

  “You mean—”

  “I think maybe he wants you for himself,” Will said grimly.

  Now that Preacher knew the truth, it seemed obvious to him that Charlotte was female. But in the slightly baggy buckskins, with her breasts bound and her hair braided Indian-fashion, with her hands and face dyed to a more reddish tint, if she stayed in the shadows and never spoke, he could see how it was possible she had pulled off the masquerade. It wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny, but she had done everything she could to avoid that.

  “Druke’s bound to be pretty fed up with you two interferin’ with his plans, too. That’s another reason for him to come after you again. But you said they don’t know about this cave, so that gives us a little leeway. I think maybe what we should do is turn the tables on ’em.”

  “An ambush, you mean?” Will asked.

  “That’s right. Blood Eye’s probably a pretty good tracker, and we were in a hurry last night, so we weren’t takin’ the time to cover our trail. But with the horses scattered and it bein’ dark to boot, chances are he didn’t get on our trail until this mornin’. We ought to have time to backtrack a little and get ready for ’em.”

  “I hope I get a good shot at Druke with my bow this time,” Charlotte said.

  Every time Preacher heard her cultured tones, he was struck by how the seemingly genteel young woman thrived in such primitive conditions and skewered bad men with arrows. She sounded like someone who’d never done an honest day’s labor in her life, but her actions were just the opposite.

  He gave in to his curiosity and asked, “I hope you don’t mind me bein’ nosy, miss, but I was just wonderin’ what your last name is and how you came to be out here so far from civilization.”

  Before Charlotte could answer, a loud growl sounded from outside the cave.

  Preacher sprang to his feet. “That’s Dog.”

  The big cur still hadn’t been around this morning, but Preacher wasn’t worried about him. He knew from long experience that Dog could take care of himself. He knew as well that if Dog sensed danger, he would warn them if at all possible.

  Since it was daylight outside, there was no need for the blanket to close off the cave mouth. Preacher picked up his rifle and swept the makeshift curtain aside.

  Dog stood just outside the cave mouth, his fur bristling as he stared down the slope. Another rumbling growl came from deep in his throat.

  From behind Preacher, Will said, “That’s the wolf I saw last night, all right. You’re sure he’s really a dog, Preacher?”

  “I’m sure. Him and Horse are my best friends. They been with me a long time.”

  “What’s he growling at?”

  Preacher shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, but Dog must smell something. I trust his instincts.”

  Charlotte said, “Druke’s men can’t have caught up with us already.”

  “I didn’t think it was likely,” Preacher said, “but we can’t rule it out. Better grab your guns, just in case. I’m gonna have a look around.”

  Will and Charlotte retreated into the cave while Preacher started cautiously down the slope. “Dog, hunt.”

  Dog bounded away, then stopped suddenly and whirled around to gaze up the slope past Preacher. A vicious snarl came from him, and Preacher knew it was a warning.

  He turned to bring up the rifle and caught a glimpse of Blood Eye hurtling down toward him.

  In that instant, Preacher knew the renegade Crow had climbed onto a rocky outcropping above the cave mouth and launched himself from there. He shouldn’t have had time to find the hideout, but obviously that wasn’t the case.

  The next split second, Blood Eye crashed into Preacher and knocked him to the ground. As they struggled, they tumbled down the rocky slope.

  “Preacher!” Will shouted from the cave mouth. He rushed out to go to the mountain man’s aid.

  A shot blasted. The rifle ball ricocheted off a rock just inches from Will’s side. He threw himself backward into the cave.

  Partway down the slope, Blood Eye found himself on top of Preacher and lifted his tomahawk for a stroke at the mountain man’s head.

  The collision with Blood Eye had jolted the rifle out of Preacher’s hands, and he couldn’t reach his pistols or his knife. He grabbed Blood Eye’s wrist instead and stopped the deadly blow as it started to fall. With a grunt of effort, he heaved Blood Eye to the side and rolled after him.

  Preacher ended up on top. He tried to drive a knee into the Crow’s groin, but Blood Eye twisted at the hips and took the would-be crippling blow on his thigh. Blood Eye scissored his right leg up, hooked the ankle in front of Preacher’s throat, and forced the mountain man off of him. Preacher rolled again and came to an abrupt, painful halt as a large, sharp-edged rock dug into his back.

  A shot boomed and Dog yelped in pain. Preacher looked around for the big cur, but before he could spot Dog and see how badly his old friend was hurt, Blood Eye dived at him again. Once more, Preacher had to grapple with the renegade.

  Blood Eye was in the grip of a killing frenzy. As they struggled over the tomahawk, his face, only inches from Preacher’s, was twisted in grotesque lines.

  Preacher had never seen a more frightening visage in his life. Blood Eye was like something out of a terrifying nightmare, the sort that made a man bolt up out of sleep with a panic-stricken cry on his lips.

  Fortunately, Preacher had never been the sort to suffer from nightmares.

  He knew that Blood Eye was just a man, not a monster. He wrenched hard on the Crow’s wrist, and Blood Eye dropped the tomahawk.

  Instantly, Preacher hammered a fist into the renegade’s face. The blow was a short one, traveling no more than six or eight inches, but it packed tremendous power and rocked Blood Eye’s head back.

  Preacher hit him again, but Blood Eye jerked his head aside just enough to make the punch skid off his cheek without doing any real damage. Like a striking snake, his hand darted up and closed around Preacher’s throat, rolling Preacher onto his back.

  A huge dark shape loomed up behind Blood Eye and blotted out the sun. “Hold him still!” a harsh voice ordered.

  Druke, Preacher thought. Had to be. He tried to heave himself free from Blood Eye’s grip as Druke struck with a rifle butt. Preacher saw it coming at his face, but couldn’t get out of the way in time.

  The craven blow exploded in his brain like a keg of black powder going off. Preacher’s last thought before darkness swallowed him was that it had taken both of them to beat him.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Stay back,” Will warned Charlotte as they crouched just inside the cave mouth. He had tried to get a shot at Druke as the man knocked out Preacher, but Druke and Blood Eye had moved too fast. The two of them had dragged the unconscious mountain man behind a boulder and taken cover behind the big rock themselves.

  “There are just two of them,” Charlotte argued. “We can take them.”

  Will shook his head. “From where they are, they’ve got too good a view of the cave. As soon as we step out, they’ll kill us. Druke came pretty close with that first shot of his.”

  “They don’t want us dead. Blood Eye will w
ant to torture us, like he’s planned all along.”

  “That may be what Blood Eye wants, but I think Druke is fed up with all of it and just plans on killing us as efficiently as possible.”

  “We can’t leave Preacher in their hands. Not after he rescued us the way he did. We’d be dead if not for him.”

  Will’s expression was grim as he nodded. “I know. I’m trying to think of some way out of this, but so far . . .” He fell silent as he turned to look up at the narrow chimney above the fire pit.

  It was a natural passage through the rock and came out about a hundred yards up the slope. Even as he considered the idea, he discarded it. The chimney wasn’t wide enough. His shoulders would never fit through it.

  “I could do it,” Charlotte said as if she had read his mind. “I could climb out through there, slip around behind them, and take them by surprise. They’d never be expecting it.”

  Will shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous—”

  “More dangerous than waiting in here for the rest of Druke’s men to arrive? You said it was just the two of them, didn’t you?”

  “That’s all I saw,” Will admitted.

  “Druke and Blood Eye must have hurried on ahead of the others, but the rest of Druke’s men will be coming along behind them. You know that.”

  Will nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “You know I am. This is our only chance, Will. Otherwise, they’ll lay siege to the cave and we’ll be trapped here. Sooner or later, they’ll root us out, and then . . .” She didn’t have to elaborate on what would happen then. Both of them knew all too well the fate that lay in store for them if Druke and Blood Eye got their hands on them again.

  At least they just wanted him dead, Will thought.

  Blood Eye had something worse in mind for Charlotte, and in the end she would die, too, more than likely.

  If she didn’t, she would wish she were dead.

  With no other way out of the cave, Will reluctantly agreed with Charlotte’s suggestion. “All right. There doesn’t seem to be any choice. But you have to promise to be careful.”