Preacher's Fortune

by William W. Johnstone

  “We are not going to try to keep on following them tonight?” Esteban asked, sounding surprised.

  “There are some situations where you can track somebody at night, especially if there’s plenty o’ moonlight, like tonight,” Preacher explained. “But that don’t hold true where there are so many stretches o’ rocky ground, like there are in these parts. Unless we want to risk losin’ the trail completely, we got to wait for the sun to come up.”

  Esteban heaved a sigh. “I suppose if we must . . . but it is hard to wait, knowing that Juanita is still in the hands of those . . . those . . .”

  “Yeah, I can’t hardly think of a name bad enough for ’em, neither,” Preacher said. “Why don’t you hunt you a soft place to lay down under them trees, and you can get some sleep. I’ll stand watch.”

  “I should take a turn, too,” Esteban protested. “You must be exhausted after all the work you did moving those rocks.”

  “I’ll be a mite sore in the mornin’, I reckon, but you’re the one who got walloped in the head. You prob’ly need the rest more’n I do.”

  “We will trade,” Esteban said stubbornly. “Wake me in a few hours.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Esteban stretched out on a patch of grass. Horse grazed a little on the same grass, and Dog lay down there, too. Taking his rifle from its sling attached to the saddle, Preacher walked over to a rock that was in a dense shadow cast by a tree and sat down. He wouldn’t be very noticeable here if anybody tried to slip up on them. Resting the rifle across his legs, he drew several deep breaths and willed his muscles to relax. His brain stayed keenly alert, though, and his eyes never stopped moving as his gaze roved over the surrounding countryside.

  He thought about Juanita Alvarez and hoped that things weren’t going too rough for her. Earlier, he had been fairly confident that her kidnappers wouldn’t molest her while they were still planning to swap her for the treasure. Now, with all that loot maybe gone for good, they might decide they didn’t have to treat her so gently. She could be in for a hard time of it at their hands. Preacher wasn’t sure how well she would be able to cope with something like that. Frontier women had always known there was a real danger of such things happening to them if they were captured by Indians. Juanita hadn’t been raised on the frontier, though. She had lived, for the most part, a pampered and sheltered life in Mexico City.

  But while he had been around her, Preacher had sensed that she had a core of strength in her, the same sort of inner steel that was present in women who had spent their lives in much harsher surroundings. He hoped for Juanita’s sake that she really did possess such strength.

  Because before all this was over, she was liable to need it.

  Cobey was livid. He leaped down from his horse and ran back and forth. “We left them wagons right here, damn it!” he shouted. “I know we did!”

  Chambers looked around and said, “I believe you’re right.” He pointed. “That clump of brush right over there is where we hid when we ambushed those first two Indians. And I remember those trees as well, not to mention the fact that the mouth of the canyon is right over there. This is the place, certainly.”

  Cobey stared up at him. “Then where are the damn wagons?”

  Chambers could only shake his head and say, “I don’t know.”

  Bert spoke up. “What about that other Yaqui? If the one lived who jumped you later on, Cobey, and ruined ever’thing, maybe the other’un did, too. He could’ve run off with the wagons.”

  “Only if he sewed up his own throat where Arnie cut it!” Cobey shook his head in disgust. “No, that Injun’s dead, no two ways about it. Poke around over there in the brush where we slung the body and you’ll probably find it. Somebody else had to come along and steal the wagons.”

  On the back of Cobey’s horse, Juanita sat, still silent, and thought that from the way he was carrying on, anyone would have thought that the wagons belonged to him. In truth, of course, Cobey had stolen them from Juanita and her brother.

  She was puzzled by what had happened to the vehicles and their teams, too. All sorts of odd things were happening here in these mountains named after the Blood of Christ. Father Hortensio had talked about how the cave where the treasure was hidden smelled like brimstone. Perhaps the area was cursed. Perhaps the treasure itself now had a curse on it. Juanita didn’t know. All she could be certain of was that she was cold and frightened and so very, very tired. Even though she couldn’t forget that she was a prisoner, all she wanted to do right now was lie down and rest.

  She turned to the giant and asked quietly, “Wick, would you help me down?”

  “Just a minute,” he rumbled. “Cobey, is it all right if I take the señorita off your horse?”

  Cobey flapped a hand dismissively. “I don’t care what you do with her. Just don’t let her run off.”

  “She won’t. I promise.” Wick dismounted and stepped over to Cobey’s horse. He reached up and scooped Juanita into his arms. He carried her like she was a baby, limping a little on his still-healing leg as he walked over and sat her down on a large, flat rock. It still held a little of the heat it had absorbed from the sun during the day.

  “You sit right there,” he told her.

  “I will,” she promised.

  “You want a drink?”

  Juanita nodded. “That would be very nice. I’m thirsty.”

  Wick stepped over to his horse and got a canteen from the saddle. He uncorked it and handed it to Juanita, who had to take it in both of her hands because her wrists were still tied together. She lifted the canteen to her mouth and took a long drink. When she lowered it, she said, “Thank you. I’m hungry, too.”

  He dug a strip of jerky out of his pocket and handed that to her, taking back the canteen. “There you go. Are your teeth good enough to gnaw on jerky?”

  “Of course.” She smiled up at him, and as usual, almost immediately he became too embarrassed to look at her.

  Meanwhile, Cobey had resumed pacing around in anger. Chambers watched him for a few minutes and then asked, “What are we going to do now?”

  Cobey paused. “This don’t change anything. We’re still goin’ after that treasure, as soon as Arnie or George get back and tell us which way those bastards went.”

  “Has it occurred to you that it may well have been our quarry who took the wagons?”

  Cobey turned sharply toward the professor. “You mean Preacher and his bunch?”

  “They had to transport that treasure out of there in some way,” Chambers pointed out. “Once they escaped, however, it would be much easier to carry the relics and the gold, especially the gold, in wagons. Perhaps some of them circled back here, took the wagons, and then rejoined the others.”

  Cobey balled his right hand into a fist and smacked it into his left palm with a sound like a gunshot. “By God, you’re right! That’s the only explanation that makes sense. It’s all Preacher’s doin’!”

  Chambers just smiled.

  Cobey resumed his stalking back and forth. “That’s just one more reason to want the son of a bitch dead! He’s got to learn to stop messin’ with me, and the best way to teach him is to kill him!”

  Juanita shuddered a little as she listened to Cobey ranting. She knew that Preacher could take care of himself, but Cobey’s hatred was so strong, so fierce, that it was almost like a thing alive, a powerful force that would not be denied.

  Beside her, Wick said quietly, “You know, I done heard some o’ them things Cobey said to you whilst we was ridin’ back down here. I didn’t like ’em.”

  “Neither did I,” she told him gravely.

  “Cobey’s my friend, but he shouldn’t talk that way to a lady. Especially not a pretty lady like you, Miss Juanita.”

  “Thank you, Wick.” She smiled at him again, and this time he didn’t look away.

  “It sorta hurts my head, but I reckon I’m gonna have to do some thinkin’,” he mused. “This whole thing, it’s startin’ to seem more and more like i
t ain’t right.”

  For the first time in a while, Juanita began to feel hope growing inside her again. She still believed that Preacher and Esteban would come for her, but if she could work Wick around to being on her side, as well . . .

  There was a chance she might come out of this alive after all, she told herself. But in the end, her fate might depend on a giant of a man with the mind of a child.

  Dog had settled down on the ground beside the rock where Preacher sat. It was still a good while before dawn when the big cur suddenly lifted his head and growled low in his throat. Preacher reached down and rested a hand on the ruff of fur around Dog’s neck, silencing the angry rumble from the dog. He felt the tension in Dog’s muscles.

  Preacher was a mite tense himself. Dog could have smelled some animal close by, but it was doubtful the scent of a varmint would have caused him to react like that. It was much more likely Dog had smelled a human.

  And the chances of anybody wandering around out here who wasn’t an enemy were pretty darned small.

  Preacher listened intently, and a moment later he heard the sound of hoofbeats. Two riders, he thought. They were coming from the direction of the ledge.

  Two of Cobey’s men, or maybe the boss hard case himself. Nobody else would be on that ledge. Preacher came to his feet and cat-footed through the darkness to Esteban’s side. He went to a knee next to the young man and reached out to clap a hand over Esteban’s mouth. Esteban woke up, startled by the unexpected touch, and began to thrash around. Preacher stilled him by leaning over and hissing in his ear, “Shhh! It’s just me. We got company.”

  After a moment, when he was sure Esteban wouldn’t yell out, Preacher took his hand away. Esteban whispered, “Who is it?”

  “Don’t know. Couple of riders. Bound to be some o’ Cobey’s men. They followed us along the ledge.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Just sit still and be quiet,” Preacher told him. “We’ll see what they do and where they go.”

  He stood up and motioned for Dog to follow him as he slipped deeper into the darkness under the trees. The sound of hoofbeats came closer.

  Preacher debated whether to jump the two men or let them go and hope that they didn’t discover him and Esteban. It was always tempting to cut down the odds by disposing of a couple of enemies. But that might involve shooting, and the sound of gunfire could travel a long way. That might just announce to the others where Preacher and Esteban were and pull more trouble down on them before they had a chance to catch up to Father Hortensio and recover the treasure.

  It was likely that the two men would rejoin the rest of their bunch sooner or later. Preacher considered letting them go, following them, and trying to get Juanita away from her captors. More than once in the past, he had stolen into an Indian camp and rescued prisoners. This situation was much the same, except Cobey’s bunch was smaller and likely not as alert as a war party.

  If he attempted that, however, Father Hortensio was going to have more time to get away with the treasure. But which was more important, the treasure or Juanita’s life? Preacher didn’t even have to think about the answer to that question. Juanita was more important, of course—except to a fanatic like Father Hortensio.

  The two men on horseback were close now. Preacher heard them talking. One of them said, “How we gonna tell where they went while it’s dark, Arnie?”

  “We’ll have to wait for sunup,” the other man replied. Preacher recognized his voice. It belonged to the fat man with whom he had parleyed in the canyon. “We might as well get down and rest the horses for a spell.” Both men reined in and dismounted.

  Preacher stood tensely in the darkness, no more than twenty feet from them. So the two thieves were going to wait for dawn, too, and they were going to do it in the same spot as Preacher and Esteban.

  That was a mighty interesting development.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Juanita lay down on the big rock, curling on her side and pillowing her head on her arms as best she could. Her ankles were tied now, too, so that she couldn’t run away. She was exhausted, but the uncomfortable position and the fright she felt made it almost impossible to sleep. Every sound in the night made her jump and catch her breath, fearful that something was about to happen.

  Wick sat nearby with his back against a tree, but he had not had any trouble dozing off and now was sound asleep, with loud snores emanating from him. Juanita didn’t know what it would take to wake him up. Nor did she know how he would react if one of the other men tried to bother her.

  A footstep somewhere close by made her sit up sharply. She gasped and looked around wildly.

  “Easy, Señorita,” Professor Chambers said quietly. “I mean you no harm. I just thought perhaps we could talk for a moment.”

  “Professor. You frightened me.”

  “My apologies. I wish there was some way this entire situation could be made better for you, Señorita.”

  Juanita glanced toward the sleeping Wick. Quietly, she said to Chambers, “You could untie me. I would be very grateful.”

  Chambers laughed softly. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. You’d try to escape, and then Larson would kill me for allowing that to happen. He already plans to get rid of me.”

  She frowned at him in the darkness and said, “You know this, and yet you still aid him?”

  “Of course. I’m not a fool. The man despises me, simply because I’m not an unlettered lout like he is. He has no intention of sharing the treasure with me, even though without me he would have no idea of its existence.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Wait for the proper time, and then show Mr. Larson that he isn’t the only one who can double-cross his allies.” Chambers leaned closer to her. “I’m telling you this for only one reason, Señorita. I want your help.”

  “Why would I help you? You hold me prisoner as surely as the others do.”

  “I can protect you,” he said. “The fact that Cobey wants to trade you for the treasure is the only reason you’re still unharmed. Join forces with me and I’ll do my best to see that you stay that way.”

  Juanita didn’t believe him. She had seen the way he looked at her. He wanted her just as much as the others did. But if she played along with him, that might increase her chances of coming out of this alive.

  “What would I need to do?” she asked.

  Chambers’s voice was barely a whisper now. “When the time comes, I’ll slip you a weapon and cut you loose. Help me kill the others, and I’ll let you go.”

  “How can we do that? There are too many of them! A woman and . . . a civilized man such as yourself . . . against half-a-dozen barbarians . . .”

  “Who won’t be expecting anything,” Chambers said. “The element of surprise will be entirely on our side. Besides, we should have one other ally.”

  “Who?”

  Chambers inclined his head toward the sleeping giant. “Wick. Everyone can see that he follows you around like a puppy, and he adores you like a puppy adores its mistress, too.”

  “He follows me because the one called Cobey has ordered him to guard me. Wick would never turn against him.”

  “I think you’re wrong. In fact, you could say that I’m gambling my life on it.”

  Perhaps he was right. Juanita had to admit that having Wick on their side would go a long way toward evening up the odds. He could probably knock at least two men out of a fight before they knew what was going on.

  “There’s something else to consider, too,” Chambers went on. “By the time we’re ready to make our move, the odds against us may not be so high. I’m sure we can handle Preacher when we recover the treasure, but some of Cobey’s men may be killed or hurt in the process.” He shrugged. “What it comes down to, Señorita, is that the only chance either one of us really has is to work together. Can you deny that?”

  Juanita hesitated before answering, but finally, she had to whisper, “No. I cannot deny it.”

 
“You’ll see,” Chambers said. “Everything will be—”

  “Who’s that?” Cobey Larson’s harsh voice came from somewhere nearby. Wick snorted and snuffled as he woke up. Cobey stalked out of the darkness before Professor Chambers could slip away and demanded, “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

  “Just checking on the prisoner,” Chambers said easily. “Your so-called guard was sound asleep. The señorita might have gotten away if not for me.”

  Cobey grabbed Juanita’s wrists and shook them, then did the same with her ankles. “She’s still tied up good. She ain’t goin’ anywhere, not unless she wants to crawl on her belly. And I don’t reckon she’d get very far that way.” He chuckled. “But I got to admit, the idea of a high-toned señorita like her crawlin’ on her belly is a mite appealin’.”

  Juanita shuddered at the man’s coarseness.

  “Better move on, Professor,” Cobey went on. “You ain’t needed here.”

  “What do you intend to do?” Chambers asked.

  “None o’ your damn business.” Cobey cupped Juanita’s chin. “Whatever happens, it’s just between me an’ the pretty little señorita.”

  She wanted to jerk her head away from his touch, but she forced herself to remain still as she said, “Señor, I ask of you . . . do not dishonor me.”

  “It’s a little late for you to be worryin’ about honor, ain’t it? Your brother ran off and left you with us. He don’t give a damn what happens to you, so why should I?”

  “Please . . .”

  Cobey’s hand closed roughly on one of her breasts. “Beg some more,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “I like it.”

  “Larson—” the professor began.

  Cobey turned on him, letting go of Juanita and moving his hand to the butt of the pistol stuck behind his belt. “Are you still here, damn it?”

  Juanita waited tensely to see if Chambers would defend her. She wasn’t surprised when he said, “All right, Cobey. I’m leaving.”