Preacher's Quest
Page 24
But were those benefits worth the constant peril?
Faith was surprised to realize that she didn’t know the answer to that question.
And depending on what their captors had in mind for them, she might never get the chance to find out.
She looked back over her left shoulder and saw that they were definitely getting clear of the fire now. Chester’s sudden exclamation made her look forward again, and she was shocked to see several soldiers clad in blue-and-red uniforms riding toward them. Relief washed through her. Whatever nefarious plans Snell and his cohorts had, they wouldn’t be able to carry them out now. She and Chester could look to the soldiers for protection.
One of the men, an officer to judge by the gold braid on his uniform, held up a hand in greeting. “Mr. Snell!” he called out. “There you are! And you’ve rescued the prisoners!”
“That’s right,” Snell said as the two groups came together and reined their mounts to a halt. “Seen any more Crows?”
The young officer smiled. “I believe most of them are dead, and the ones who aren’t are no longer a threat to us. They’ve all fled from that terrible fire.”
“You lose any men?”
The officer’s smile disappeared. “Unfortunately, yes. These are all the troops that remain in my command.”
“This is all of you, eh?” That news seemed to please Snell for some reason. He leaned forward in the saddle and said sharply, “All right, boys—now!”
Snell and the men with him lifted rifles and pistols, and with a roar that was stunning in its loudness and unexpectedness, they fired a volley of shots that smashed brutally into the soldiers. Most of the men, including the young officer, were driven off their horses by the impact of the shots. A few managed to stay in their saddles, but they were too badly wounded to fight back. Their spooked horses ran away, and one by one the men swayed and toppled off to land in limp sprawls on the dusty ground.
Faith screamed when the shots blasted out, and she became aware that she still had her mouth open and the back of her hand pressed to it a few seconds later, as the echoes of the reports rolled across the prairie. Chester’s arms tightened around her. There was nothing they could have done to prevent this slaughter, but both of them were horrified by it.
And having witnessed it, Faith was now more convinced than ever that some sort of horrible fate awaited her and Chester at the hands of these ruthless men.
Snell turned toward them and grinned. “Don’t worry, folks,” he said as if reading Faith’s mind. “No harm’s gonna come to you. You’re worth a whole hell of a lot to me. Well, you are, anyway, Sinclair.”
“Me?” Chester said.
“Yeah. You don’t know it yet, but you’re a rich man . . . and you’re gonna make me and all my friends rich, too.”
“You’re insane!”
“Nope,” Snell said with a shake of his head. He had been reloading his pistol as he spoke, and now he tucked the weapon behind his belt. “Come on. We’ll circle around to the south o’ where that fire burned and head for Saint Looey. When we get there, you’ll see what I’m talkin’ about.”
Chester said stiffly, “Whatever mad plan you have, I won’t cooperate with you, Snell.”
The man edged his horse closer and chuckled. “Oh, I reckon you will,” he said. He reached out and touched Faith’s hair, curling some of it around one of his fingers. “That is, if you don’t want to see this pretty little gal suffer more than she ever would have in the hands o’ them Injuns.”
“Chester . . .” Faith said, her voice trembling with fright.
A couple of tense seconds ticked by. Then Chester said thickly, “All right, damn you. Whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”
“I figured you’d come around to my way o’ thinkin’,” Snell gloated. “Let’s get movin’. We got a long way to go. But when we get there, we’ll all be rich.”
Somehow, Faith knew that she and Chester weren’t included in that. When Snell had gotten what he wanted out of them, the only thing they would be—was dead.
Preacher felt like the whole left side of his body was cooked good and proper by the time he and the Indian woman got clear of the fire. The flames were so close, they pounded against the two pitiful humans and the horse in waves of searing heat. If the horse had stumbled and fallen, they would have all been goners.
But as it was, they galloped past the western edge of the blaze when the flames were less than twenty yards away. The fire roared on by behind them as Preacher gradually slowed the horse to a walk. He looked around, hoping to see some more survivors.
“Preacher! Preacher!”
At the sound of a voice shouting his name, Preacher turned to see Rip Giddens, Willard Carling, and Jasper Hodge riding toward him. The faces of all three men were grimy from the smoke, and their clothes were stained with blood in various places. But they were alive and none of them seemed to be badly wounded.
As they came up to Preacher, Rip said, “Lord, it’s good to see that you made it out. Have you run into Panther?”
Preacher shook his head. “I was hopin’ he was with you boys.”
“No,” Rip said, “ain’t seen any sign of him. Damn it, I reckon he didn’t make it.”
Preacher looked at Carling and Hodge. “How about you two?”
“We’re fine,” Carling answered without hesitation, although Hodge looked like he might have disagreed on that point. The journalist didn’t say anything, though. Carling went on anxiously, “Did you find Faith and Chester?”
“I saw ’em,” Preacher replied grimly, “but they ain’t with me.”
“Oh, no,” Carling said in a hollow voice. “Oh, dear Lord, no.”
“I don’t know that they’re dead,” Preacher went on quickly. “Fact is, there’s a good chance they’re not. But if they’re not, then Luther Snell’s got ’em.”
“Snell!” Rip burst out. “What’s he doin’ up here?”
“At one time, he was after Willard here, you’ll recollect,” Preacher said with a nod toward Carling. “Now it looks like he kidnapped Sinclair, because ol’ Chester’s really rich.”
“What?” Carling exclaimed with a frown. “Chester doesn’t have any money except what I pay him, and Lord knows that’s not much!”
Preacher shrugged. “I’m just goin’ by what I heard. Maybe it was wrong and Snell figured if he couldn’t grab Willard, he’d get his sister instead.”
“I’ll pay any amount to get her back safely,” Carling said.
“Could be that’s what Snell’s countin’ on.”
“Well . . . we have to find them! What are we doing here? Let’s start looking!”
“Just a minute,” Preacher said. “Where are the Sioux prisoners who got away?”
Rip pointed toward the west. “Over that way. I don’t know if they all got out of the fire or not, but there’s more’n a dozen of ’em.”
Preacher spoke to the woman in her own tongue, telling her to go after the rest of the prisoners. He would have taken her to them, but they couldn’t spare the time. Carling was right: They needed to start searching for Snell’s bunch. The women and children wouldn’t be moving so fast that the woman Preacher had rescued couldn’t catch up to them.
She slid down from the horse, caught hold of Preacher’s hand for a moment, and pressed it in gratitude. Then she started walking in a swift, steady pace after the others from her tribe who had been carried off by the Crows.
“You look like you been roasted on a spit and somebody forgot to turn you,” Rip commented as the four men rode north along the path of the fire.
“I’d be roasted clean through if it wasn’t for Wingate,” Preacher said.
“Wingate! I didn’t know he was anywhere in these parts.”
“Neither did I.”
Rip frowned. “He didn’t make it out neither, did he?”
“Nope. Snell shot him. Before he died, though, Wingate told me about Sinclair really bein’ a rich man. He said somethin’ about a L
ieutenant Corrigan, too.”
“Who?” Rip shook his head. “By the Lord Harry, I’m confused.”
“I have no earthly idea what’s going on,” Hodge put in.
“I’m a mite puzzled by it all, too,” Preacher admitted, “but I reckon we can boil it down to where it’s simple. More than likely, Snell’s got Miss Faith and Sinclair and for whatever reason is holdin’ ’em prisoner. But either way, it’s long past time I found that son of a bitch and killed him.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Now that the fire had moved well north of where they were, leaving behind a scorched and blackened plain, Preacher and the other three men waited a short time for the ground to cool, then rode across the devastation, backtracking to the spot where he had encountered Faith Carling, Chester Sinclair, and Luther Snell.
The burned body of the red-bearded trapper named Wingate still lay there, starkly grotesque. It bothered Preacher that they had to leave Wingate there without a proper burial, but there wasn’t time for that. Nor did they have time to search for Panther Leaping, whose body no doubt lay somewhere in the path of the fire. That disturbed Preacher, too, but he knew both Wingate and Panther would have wanted them to get on with the chore of rescuing Faith and Sinclair.
The fact that all the grass had been burned off made it even easier to follow the tracks left by the mounts of Snell and his men. The trail led northwestward, out of the charred path of the flames. Less than half an hour after they started following it, Preacher spotted something up ahead.
“Those are saddled horses roamin’ around,” he said. “Let’s see if we can figure out where they came from.”
He rode ahead quickly, with Rip, Carling, and Hodge doing their best to keep up. When Preacher came closer, he could tell that the loose horses he had seen were wearing military saddles. That tied in with Wingate’s comment about a lieutenant named Corrigan.
“Up ahead!” Rip said suddenly, pointing. “There’s some folks!”
The four men galloped on. Preacher saw a few men sitting on the ground, while others were stretched out motionless on the prairie. They wore red-and-blue uniforms—but some of the red came from the bloodstains on those uniforms.
One of the men stood up unsteadily with his right hand clutching his left arm, which hung limp and useless at his side. As Preacher came closer he saw the gold braid on the man’s uniform that signified he was an officer. “Lieutenant Corrigan?” he asked as he reined in.
The man stared at Preacher in astonishment. “You know me?” he said.
“Wingate told me about you. I’m Preacher.”
“Preacher! I’ve heard of you. And these men are . . .?”
“Rip Giddens, Willard Carling, Jasper Hodge,” Preacher introduced his companions.
“Mr. Carling,” Corrigan said. “Thank God you’re alive, sir, if not exactly unharmed.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Carling said. “Have you seen my sister?”
“Yes, sir.” Corrigan swayed a little, but remained on his feet. “She was with Mr. Sinclair. They were . . . prisoners of a man called Snell.”
“We know about Snell,” Preacher said grimly. “What happened to you fellas?”
“Snell and his men attacked us,” Corrigan replied, his voice drawn taut with strain from the pain he was in but also edged with bitterness. “We thought we were all on the same side, but they took us by surprise and cut us down. Everyone was killed except for myself and two of my men.”
“You trusted Snell,” Preacher said. “That was your mistake.”
“I know that now.” Hope brightened Corrigan’s pale face a little as he went on. “Are you going after him?”
Preacher jerked his head in a nod. “Damn right we are. We want to get Miss Carling and Sinclair away from him, and I got a score to settle with Snell. More than one, in fact.”
“Take me with you,” Corrigan said.
“Looks like you’re wounded,” Preacher said, gesturing at Corrigan’s limp, bloody arm.
Grimacing, Corrigan reached across his body with his right hand, grasped his left hand, and tucked it behind his belt. “Yes, but I can ride,” he declared. “And I can fire a pistol, too.”
“We ain’t got time to hold back,” Preacher warned.
“I won’t slow you down. Just catch one of the horses for me. I’m ready to go.”
The other two soldiers helped each other to their feet. “So are we,” one of them said.
Corrigan turned and frowned worriedly at them. “You men are injured—”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Lieutenant, but so are you. And maybe worse than us.”
Preacher thought that might be true. One of the men had a gash on his side where a pistol or rifle ball had grazed him, but other than being bloody and messy, the wound didn’t appear to be too serious. The other man had been hit a little harder in the leg, losing a chunk of meat from his thigh. But if the wound was bound up and he was helped into the saddle, he could ride, and both hands were all right. Chasing after Snell’s bunch would be painful for all three of the surviving soldiers, but they could do it.
“Rip, make sure the rest o’ those fellas are dead,” Preacher said, making up his mind. “I’ll round up some horses for the lieutenant and the other two.”
“Thank you,” Corrigan said. “I don’t care how hard it is or how long it takes, I’m going to see to it that Snell and his men are brought to justice.”
Within minutes, the rescue party was ready to ride out. Rip had confirmed that all the other soldiers were dead, and nothing could be done for them. The responsibility of Preacher and his companions lay with the living.
Again, the trail wasn’t too hard to follow. Snell probably believed that he had wiped out everyone behind him who might give chase.
He was going to find out—and soon, Preacher hoped—just how wrong he was about that.
After riding for a short distance to the north, the men turned their horses to follow the trail as it curved back to the east, across the burned-out path of the fire. Smoke still rose in the distance to the north, but it wasn’t as thick as it had been earlier. The fire was finally dying out. It had probably reached a river or a creek that had halted its progress.
The trail continued to turn until the tracks led southeastward. “They’re plannin’ on leavin’ this part of the country behind,” Preacher speculated. “Probably headin’ for Saint Looey as fast as they can get there.”
“Indeed,” Lieutenant Corrigan agreed. “That’s where representatives of Mr. Sinclair’s late uncle are waiting.”
“Yeah, you ain’t explained about that yet. Who’s Sinclair’s uncle?”
“The late Senator Ambrose Sinclair. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
Preacher shook his head. “Nope.”
Both Carling and Hodge had heard of Senator Sinclair. They brought their horses alongside Preacher and Corrigan, and Willard Carling asked in amazement, “Did you just say that Senator Sinclair is Chester’s uncle?”
“Was,” Corrigan corrected. “He passed away a few weeks ago.”
“That must have been after we left Boston,” Hodge said, “and word of his death hadn’t gotten to St. Louis before we left there.”
“Senator Sinclair was one of the richest men in Massachusetts,” Carling said.
“Yes, and he left his entire estate to his nephew Chester,” Corrigan explained. He went on to tell the others about how the senator and Chester Sinclair’s father had been estranged as young men.
“This is incredible,” Carling said. “And Chester had no idea of these circumstances?”
Corrigan nodded. “That’s my understanding.”
Preacher said to Carling, “Snell’s had his sights set on kidnappin’ you ever since the Rendezvous, but I reckon he’s changed his mind now that he knows Sinclair is worth even more. I expect he’ll keep Miss Carling a prisoner until he’s forced Sinclair to pay up.”
“Yes, Chester is enough of a gentleman so that he wouldn’t allow a w
oman to come to harm if he could help it.”
Preacher grunted. “There’s a hell of a lot more to it than that. Sinclair’s in love with your sister.”
Carling stared at him for a second before saying, “What? Chester is in love . . . with Faith?”
“Reckon you just never did see it because you were too busy lookin’ at whatever you were paintin’,” Preacher said dryly.
Carling shook his head and murmured, “I never knew. I just never knew.”
Rip put in, “Sinclair’ll do anything for Miss Faith, even give up his whole fortune that he didn’t know he had.”
“But that likely won’t save her, or him,” Preached added grimly. “Snell won’t want to leave anybody behind to testify against him. As soon as he’s gotten what he wants, he’ll kill both of ’em.”
“We have to stop them!” Carling said.
Preacher nodded. “That’s what I figure on doin’.”
Snell kept them moving at a fast pace all day, but at least Faith and Sinclair were mounted this time, instead of being forced to trot on foot as they had been while they were prisoners of the Indians. They were exhausted anyway, though, by the time Snell finally called a halt for the night.
The area that the prairie fire had burned was miles and miles behind them now. After sunset, but while the western sky was still red with its glow, they came to a small stream bordered by cottonwoods, and that was where Snell decided to make camp.
“Reckon we can have a fire?” one of the men asked Snell as everyone dismounted. He was bald and seemed rather slow in his thinking.