Preacher nodded. “A Blackfoot woman, and a mighty evil one at that. She grew up wantin’ to be a warrior, and she made herself into a more dangerous one than just about anybody else in the tribe. It’s a long story, but what it boils down to is that she’s plumb loco.”
Broken Pine said, “You cannot go after those killers alone, just the two of you. There were more than a dozen of them. Perhaps twice that many.”
“You’d be too outnumbered,” Jamie said. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.” He crossed his hands on his saddlehorn and leaned forward. “At least let me come with you.”
Preacher’s eyes narrowed as he thought about that. He scratched his beard-stubbled jaw and then said, “Now that might be an idea. The three of us can move mighty fast, get into places a bigger bunch might not be able to, and we won’t lose the trail, you can bet a coonskin cap on that.” A whine came from beside him, and he looked down to see Dog sitting there. “All right, the four of us.”
“You ask much,” Broken Pine said. “I would go with you, and you know Big Thunder will want to, as well.”
“Not this time,” Preacher said flatly. “If the three of us can’t do it, I don’t reckon it can be done.”
Broken Pine looked like he wanted to argue more, but after a second he nodded and said, “Very well. The boy is your son and grandson. You will do what is best.”
Tyler said, “Broken Pine, my men and I would like to help you with your wounded and make sure nothing else happens.”
The idea of such a truce clearly made Broken Pine uneasy, but he nodded and said, “If the white men want to be friends, then so do the Crow.”
“That’s exactly what we want. I just wish it weren’t such tragic circumstances that led to this.”
Preacher said, “We’ll go back to the village and pick up Horse and a pony for Hawk, and then we’ll get on the trail. All right with you, Jamie?”
Jamie jerked his head in a nod. “Damn right it is. What did you say this Blackfoot woman’s name is?”
“Winter Wind.”
“Well, Winter Wind is going to wish she had forgotten all about trying to settle whatever grudge she’s holding against you.”
“I hope you’re right, Jamie. I sure hope you’re right.”
* * *
The Crow women tended to Butterfly’s wounded calf, cleaning the injury and then binding a poultice of healing moss on it. She was able to stand up long enough to hug Hawk as the three men—and Dog—got ready to leave the village.
“Bring my son back to me,” she said as she rested her head against Hawk’s chest for a moment.
“I give you my word.”
“And you come back safely to me, as well.”
“Of course.” He patted her back, kissed her forehead.
A few yards away stood Preacher and Jamie, holding the horses. Dog paced back and forth, ready to get on the trail of their enemies.
Broken Pine and Big Thunder came up to them. The giant warrior looked forlorn as he said, “Big Thunder wants to come with Preacher.”
“I know, old friend, and most of the time, I’d sure be happy to take you along if I was ridin’ into trouble.” Preacher squeezed one of the massive arms. “But not this time. The kind of fellas we’re dealin’ with . . . well, they’re so evil you don’t need to be around ’em.”
“Besides,” added Jamie, “I told Lieutenant Tyler you’d give him a hand keeping an eye on the prisoners until Preacher and Hawk and I get back. You’re the only one big and strong enough to handle that Sergeant O’Connor.”
Big Thunder scowled and said, “O’Connor is a bad man. Big Thunder beat him.”
“You sure did,” Preacher said. “We couldn’t have put an end to all that trouble without your help. So now, if there’s gonna be peace between the whites and the Crow, Big Thunder, you were a big part of it.”
That seemed to satisfy Big Thunder.
Broken Pine said his farewell. An air of mourning gripped the village, understandably so, but Preacher knew that under Broken Pine’s leadership, the Crow would get through this and grow strong again. When Hawk joined them, Broken Pine embraced him briefly and said, “If you need us, get word to us. Every warrior among our people will fight to help you.”
“It is my fault that some of our warriors lie dead, along with our women and children,” Hawk said gloomily. “Winter Wind hates me as much as Preacher.”
“Then by God, it’s Winter Wind’s fault for carryin’ around that much hate!” Preacher said. “Sure, we killed a hell of a lot of Blackfeet that year, but only because they wiped out a whole village of Absaroka first! Evil like that, you’ve just gotta put a stop to it, whatever it takes.”
“And yet evil goes on and always will.”
“Just because you can’t always win don’t mean the fight ain’t worth fightin’.”
Hawk nodded slowly and then said, “Let us go.”
They swung up on their horses and rode out. As they left the village, Lieutenant Tyler rode over to intercept them.
“Are you sure you don’t want any more help from us, Preacher?” the young officer asked.
“You’ve got your own problems to deal with,” Preacher told him. “Davidson and O’Connor givin’ you any trouble so far?”
Tyler shook his head. “All the fight seems to have been knocked out of Edgar. He never dreamed anyone would ever stand up to him the way we did. And O’Connor . . . well, he’s just one man, and he’s being well guarded.”
“Better keep that up,” Preacher said. “I wouldn’t trust that fella any farther’n Big Thunder could throw him.”
“We’ll wait here, or nearby, at least, until you return, Mr. MacCallister,” Tyler said to Jamie. “We left the fort with you, and I’d like to have you with us when we return.”
“I appreciate that, Hayden,” Jamie said. “But you do what you think is best.” He grinned. “You’re in command now, you know.”
“Yes, thanks to your help. The help of all of you.” Tyler sat straight in the saddle and saluted. “Good luck and Godspeed, gentlemen.”
“We’ll take it,” Preacher said, and then he led his companions toward the scene of the ambush, where they would pick up the trail of Winter Wind and her gang.
CHAPTER 32
Preacher, Hawk, and Jamie peered intently at the mouth of the narrow canyon about half a mile away. They stood on top of a thickly wooded knoll, holding the reins of their horses.
“That has to be where they went,” Jamie said quietly. “The trail leads straight in that direction, and they haven’t gone to any trouble to try to cover it up.”
“That’s because Winter Wind wants us followin’ ’em,” said Preacher. “She can’t take a chance on us losin’ the trail.” He snorted disgustedly. “Like that’d ever happen.”
“Looks like that’s the only way through that cliff without going a long way north or south, too,” Jamie went on. “Have you ever been up that canyon, Preacher?”
The mountain man frowned in thought for a moment and then nodded.
“Years ago,” he said. “Best I recollect, it winds around for a couple of miles through the badlands on the other side of the cliff and finally comes out at a little lake.” Preacher raked a thumbnail along his jaw. “Could be that’s where they’ve camped to wait for us.”
“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
The cliff that loomed ahead of them was sheer and rose two hundred feet above the grassy bench. Climbing it would be difficult at best, and horses could never make it. As Jamie had said, the narrow passage was the only way through. The canyon was twenty feet wide at the mouth. The towering walls appeared to lean inward, as if they were about to fall in and close up, but that was just a trick of the eyes.
Preacher mulled over the situation for another minute, then said, “I’m goin’ by memory again, but I believe about five miles south of here, you’ll find an old game trail that’ll lead you over the cliff and across the badlands, Jamie. Is that horse of yours
pretty sure-footed?”
“I’d trust him with my life,” Jamie replied.
“Good, because you’ll have to where that trail zigzags up the cliff.”
“You’re saying we should split up?”
“Hawk and me and Dog will go on through the canyon, like Winter Wind’s expectin’ us to do,” Preacher said. “But if you circle around and follow that other trail, you can come up on that lake from the south. There’s a ridge that overlooks it. With you sittin’ up there with that Sharps of yours, you’d have a clear shot at anybody down below.”
“Like Winter Wind,” Jamie said heavily.
“Or anybody else who needs shootin’. I’ll leave that up to you.”
Jamie frowned. Preacher seemed to be trying to say something without actually saying it, but Jamie wasn’t sure what it was. He felt an uneasy stirring inside him. Preacher might have a plan, but if so, Jamie figured it was one that neither of the mountain man’s companions would like.
Still, the idea of them splitting up and coming at the outlaw camp from two different directions was a good one. Jamie said, “All right. I can find that game trail, I reckon. But it’ll take me a while to circle around that far.”
“Hawk and I will wait here until about an hour before nightfall, then start through the canyon,” Preacher said. “That ought to give you long enough.”
“All right.” Jamie shook hands with Preacher and then Hawk. “Good luck.”
“Just don’t forget . . . When you see the shot you need to make . . . take it.”
* * *
Preacher had a spare pair of Colts in his saddlebags. He gave them to Hawk, along with an extra loaded cylinder for each revolver, even though Hawk wasn’t nearly as proficient with a handgun as Preacher was. Hawk was a good shot with a rifle but simply hadn’t had the practice needed to become an expert with the Colts. However, that gave him considerably more firepower, and he might need it.
“There is something in your mind,” Hawk said quietly as they walked through the oppressively narrow canyon with Dog just ahead of them. Preacher’s Sharps was in his hands, and Hawk carried his old flintlock rifle in addition to the revolvers thrust behind his belt and the bow and quiver of arrows slung on his back. “You have a plan to save Eagle Feather.”
“I damn sure do,” Preacher agreed, “but it ain’t time to talk about it yet. We got to find the boy first and make sure he’s still all right.”
“He has to be,” Hawk said fervently.
“Oh, I expect he is. Winter Wind’s loco, no doubt about that, but she ain’t lived this long without gettin’ cunning, too. She’ll keep him alive until we show up.” Preacher’s voice hardened. “Then there’s a good chance she figures to kill him right in front of us, before killin’ us.”
Hawk’s breath hissed between his teeth. “If she harms that boy—”
“We’re gonna do our damnedest to make sure she don’t get the chance.”
Gloomy shadows were thick inside the canyon. The sun was low enough over the mountains that none of its rays penetrated here, only the reflection of the remaining light up above. Preacher didn’t anticipate running into an ambush or any other sort of trap—Winter Wind wanted him and Hawk to catch up to her, after all—but he kept his eyes open anyway, in case the Blackfoot woman decided to simplify matters and just kill her enemies, rather than torture them first.
The canyon never ran straight for more than a hundred yards at a time, but finally they came within sight of its western mouth. The red glow of sunset filled the jagged opening and made it look like the bloody maw of a hungry beast. The eerie sight was enough to give even the strongest man the fantods, but Preacher and Hawk never broke stride. They moved straight ahead toward whatever destiny had in store for them.
They stopped just short of the canyon mouth and looked down a steep slope toward a small, deep blue lake ringed by pine trees. More cliffs and ridges surrounded it, but this was an oasis of sorts in the rugged landscape.
Preacher wasn’t interested in the scenery, though. What caught his eye were the horses and men gathered on the lake shore, in a clearing in the pines. A fire burned there, and seated on a log near the flames was a familiar small figure.
“Eagle Feather!” Hawk exclaimed under his breath.
“The boy’s all right,” said Preacher.
That was true for the moment. But a man stood just behind Eagle Feather, a grizzled outlaw with a long, gray-streaked beard. He held a bowie knife in his hand and seemed ready to use it at a second’s notice. Clearly, he had been given the job of guarding the boy . . . or killing him if Winter Wind gave the order.
As for Winter Wind herself, she paced back and forth, the poncho she wore swirling around her each time she turned, revealing her holstered guns. She had tucked her long dark hair back up into her flat-crowned hat. She reminded Preacher of a wild animal in a cage, eager to break loose and kill.
“You stay here,” Preacher said to Hawk. “They won’t have seen us in these shadows yet, so they won’t know you’re with me.” He looked at the big cur. “Dog, you’re gonna stay here with Hawk.”
“What are you going to do?” Hawk asked.
“What Winter Wind wants me to. I’m gonna trade myself for the boy.”
“No! You said she would kill Eagle Feather if we give ourselves up.”
“That’s why you’re stayin’ out of sight,” said Preacher. “I’m gonna tell her you were killed in the fightin’, back there at the river.” He shook his head. “Chances are, she won’t believe me, but she’ll play along for now and pretend to let Eagle Feather go, thinkin’ she can send her men after him as soon as I’m her prisoner. But it’s gonna be up to you to grab the little fella and stay ahead of ’em. Get back to the village and your wife and daughter as fast as you can.”
Hawk frowned darkly and said, “But that leaves you as Winter Wind’s prisoner.”
“That’ll be worth it, as long as you and Eagle Feather get away.”
“No, Preacher. I cannot abandon you to that . . . that insane woman!”
Preacher laughed and said, “You won’t be. That’s where Jamie comes in.” He nodded toward the ridge to their left. “I reckon he’s up there somewhere by now with that Sharps, which is a mighty fine rifle. Jamie MacCallister’s a smart fella. He’ll be able to figure out what’s goin’ on down here. When he does, as soon as Eagle Feather is clear, he’ll know what to do.”
Hawk’s eyes slowly widened as he stared at his father.
“You expect MacCallister to kill you!”
“One nice, clean shot cheats Winter Wind outta her revenge. And then, if Jamie can reload fast enough—and I’ve got a hunch he can—then he can blow her lights out, too, so she can’t inflict more misery on anybody else. That’s about the best we can hope for.”
Hawk shook his head and said, “No, it cannot be this way.”
“There ain’t no other way open to us.” Preacher put a hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “The most important thing is savin’ Eagle Feather’s life, and then you and him gettin’ away from here. Hell, if I’m certain of those two things, I’ll cross the divide without ever lookin’ back.” He smiled. “It’ll be good to see your ma again, and all the old friends I’ve lost over the years.”
Hawk stared, shook his head, put his hands to his temples as if in pain. But he couldn’t come up with a plan that had a better chance of working than the one Preacher had just explained. Finally, with a sorrowful expression on his face, he nodded.
“You are sure of MacCallister?” he asked.
“Dead certain sure.”
Hawk sighed and said, “Very well. It will be dark soon. We should go ahead, while there is still light to shoot by.”
“That’s just what I was thinkin’,” Preacher said. He squeezed Hawk’s shoulder again. “So long, son.”
“Preacher . . .”
“Naw, there ain’t no need for a bunch of speechi-fyin’. Just get that boy outta here and back home safe and sound.”
* * *
“Winter!” Appleseed Higgs said. “It’s him!”
The old outlaw grabbed the boy’s arm with his free hand, jerked him to his feet, and pointed with the big knife in his other hand toward the canyon mouth where a buckskin-clad figure had just strode into view. The man was coming down the slope, carrying a rifle.
Winter Wind stopped pacing and jerked around to stare at Preacher. Appleseed could tell how stiff with anticipation she was. All the other men were tense and ready for trouble, too.
But Preacher was just one man.
“Where is the young one?” Winter Wind muttered. “Where is Hawk?”
She waited until Preacher reached the base of the slope, about fifty yards away, before she called in her powerful voice, “Stop! Come no closer, Preacher!”
The mountain man halted. He said, “Howdy, Winter Wind. Never expected to run into you again.”
Trembling with anger, fists clenched at her sides, the Blackfoot woman shouted, “I will not exchange pleasantries with you, white man! Murderer of my people!”
“Your people started the killin’,” Preacher said coldly. “What Hawk and me did was justice, pure and simple.”
“Liar!” she screeched. Appleseed had never seen Winter Wind lose control of her emotions like this. She had always been stonily stoic.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Preacher said. “I’ll surrender, and you can do whatever the hell you want with me. Just let the boy go first.”
“No! Where is Hawk?”
“Dead.” Preacher’s reply was flat and hard. “Killed in that ambush back along the river.”
Winter Wind shook her head and said, “I do not believe you.”
Preacher shrugged. “Then you should’a stayed around there a mite longer, and you could’ve seen it for yourself. Whether you believe it or not don’t change a thing. Now, are you gonna let the boy go so you and me can get on with settlin’ things between us?”
Appleseed was just as anxious to hear what Winter Wind was going to say as Preacher seemed to be. As usual, she hadn’t let anybody else in on her plans. She always played her cards close to the vest.
Frontier America Page 27