At last they reached the top, he allowed them a few minutes to rest again. He moved a few feet away and stood silent and motionless with Dog beside him, as his senses reached out into the night, searching for any indications the Blackfeet might be nearby looking for them.
Not seeing, hearing, or smelling anything unusual, Preacher had just started to turn back toward Katarina and the other ladies when Dog growled softly beside him. Preacher paused, his right hand dropping to the butt of the holstered Colt on that side.
A tall, whipcord-lean shape stumbled out of the shadows and rasped, “D-don’t shoot! I’m a friend.”
“Reese!” Katarina exclaimed. She rushed forward as Reese Coburn stepped out of the night and wrapped his arms around her.
Chapter 37
The Blackfeet herded ten prisoners over the ridge and down the slope to the village: Jamie, Colonel Sutton, Lieutenant Curry, and seven of the dragoons. Three of the soldiers had minor wounds, and somehow the other four had come through the murderous attack unscathed.
Another eight soldiers had survived the ambush by von Kuhner’s men, but they were more badly wounded. The Blackfeet made short work of them after the others left, quickly slitting throats while laughing and joking about what they were doing.
But Jamie knew what was going on, and white-hot rage burned inside him.
Those killings were that many more marks in the ledger against von Kuhner, he reckoned. That many more scores to settle. But von Kuhner had piled up so many crimes already, it didn’t really matter. He could only die once.
Jamie intended to make sure that happened. It might take a while, but he’d see to it. There was a little matter of staying alive to attend to, as well as keeping as many of his companions alive as he could. He told them quietly, “Play along with the varmints . . . for now. It wouldn’t take much to set Stone Bear and his warriors off on a killing spree.”
Sutton said, “We have to get out of this, Jamie. Our government needs to know what von Kuhner has done, and so do his own people.”
“He’ll get what’s coming to him, don’t worry about that.”
Several large fires had been kindled in the Blackfoot village. The snow, which was falling heavily, hissed when it landed in those flames. The light from the blazes spread over the whole village, giving the women and children and older warriors who had been left behind a good view of the prisoners as they were brought in.
Shouts of excitement and anticipation filled the night air. Soon, the blood of their enemies would be spilled, and the screams of white men would echo across the valley. The Blackfeet were eager to get started on their cruel sport, although probably they would wait until morning.
Jamie thought the young dragoons looked terrified as they shuffled along through the lane that opened in the ravening crowd. They had good reason to be afraid. Their chances of escape were very slim, and would have been non-existent except for one thing.
Preacher was still out there somewhere. Jamie believed the mountain man was alive and working to help them until he saw with his own eyes proof otherwise.
Von Kuhner and the other Prussians came down to the village, too, but they stayed well away from the prisoners and stuck close to Stone Bear so the rest of the Blackfeet wouldn’t get carried away and come after them, too. Jamie saw von Kuhner talking to Stone Bear, and then the chief waved one of his warriors over to him and spoke sharply.
The warrior hurried away, heading toward some lodges at the edge of the village. He looked into one of those lodges, then jerked back from the entrance as if in surprise.
Jamie watched with increasing interest as the man practically ran over to the neighboring lodge and jerked the entrance flap aside. He disappeared inside the dwelling, only to burst back out a moment later, running and yelling toward Stone Bear and von Kuhner.
The Blackfoot warriors escorting the prisoners stopped short, clearly surprised and alarmed by what they were hearing. The prisoners halted, too, once their captors quit prodding them with lances. Stone Bear spoke swiftly with the man he had sent on that errand, then turned and said something to von Kuhner.
“Gone?” the Prussian exclaimed as his face flushed in the firelight. His voice was loud enough for Jamie to hear him plainly as he went on. “How can they be gone?”
“We will find them—”
Roaring curses in German, von Kuhner interrupted him then demanded in English, “How could you let them escape?”
“You are the one to blame,” Stone Bear snapped back at him. “We knew nothing of you being nearby, and when that shooting started, we had to see if it was a threat to our village. Those slaves are gone because of you!”
Jamie leaned closer to Sutton and whispered, “Hear that? Sounds like the survivors from that first bunch have gotten away. But I don’t reckon they did it on their own.”
“You mean . . . ?”
“I mean I’d bet a hat it was Preacher who got them out,” said Jamie, “and that goes right along with what I thought earlier. Preacher’s still on the loose, and some of the men who went with him could be, too.”
Sutton looked like he wanted to appear hopeful, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. “Even if that’s true, what can a handful of men do against all these savages?”
“When one of them is Preacher, you’d be surprised.” Something else had occurred to Jamie, something he didn’t mention to Sutton or the others because he wasn’t sure whether it meant anything. Preacher and the men who had gone with him to rescue the captives weren’t the only ones unaccounted for tonight.
Immediately after von Kuhner’s double cross and the ensuing slaughter, and ever since then, Jamie had seen no sign of the half-wild Helmuth.
* * *
Katarina stepped back from the gaunt, long-bearded, shaggy-haired Reese Coburn. She touched his chest lightly as if she still couldn’t quite believe he was there. “Reese, how . . . how did you get away?”
“Well, with all that commotion goin’ on,” drawled Coburn, “I figured it was the best chance I’d get to make a break for it. Shoot, maybe the only chance I’d ever get. Stone Bear had a fella watchin’ me, but I jumped him. All this time, I never gave ’em a lick of trouble, so he wasn’t expectin’ any from me.” Coburn paused. “I got my hands on his knife, and that was all it took.”
He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. Preacher had never met Coburn, but he knew the fella had had a reputation as a veteran frontiersman before he’d disappeared five years earlier. He wasn’t surprised Coburn had been able to dispose of his guard and escape from the Blackfoot village.
The mountain man stuck his hand out and said, “Coburn, they call me Preacher. I’m mighty glad to meet you.”
“Preacher,” Coburn repeated with a note of awe in his voice as he gripped the mountain man’s hand. “You’re just about the most famous fella west of the Mississippi, ’cept for Jim Bridger, Kit Carson, and Jamie MacCallister. And I ain’t sure but what you’re more famous than even them.”
“No point in arguin’ about who’s more famous. We’re all in good company. I’m glad you made it outta there safe, Coburn . . . but the job ain’t finished yet.”
Coburn cocked his head slightly to the side in puzzlement. “Didn’t you come to rescue us? I ain’t sure how you found out about us, but right now the most important thing is gettin’ these ladies back to somewhere safe—”
“Not until I find out what happened to the friends of mine who came with me,” Preacher broke in. “You just mentioned one of ’em. Jamie MacCallister.”
“MacCallister’s here?” Again, Coburn sounded a little awed.
“So is Baron Adalwolf von Kuhner,” Katarina added.
Coburn shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know who that is.”
“The man responsible for everything that happened to us.”
“Is that so?” Coburn’s voice hardened. “In that case, I wouldn’t mind meetin’ up with this von Kuhner hombre.”
“You’re gonna have to wait y
our turn,” said Preacher. “Come on. I was lookin’ for a place these ladies could fort up for a spell. While we’re doin’ that, I’ll tell you how all this hell-raisin’ got started.”
The group continued on through the darkness, unable to move very fast because of the rugged terrain. Preacher got to the point in the story where he and Jamie and the others had encountered Baron von Stauffenberg’s former servant, who he hadn’t mentioned before, and Katarina exclaimed, “Helmuth! But that’s impossible. He was killed in the attack. I saw him shot in the head. He fell and didn’t move again.”
“That rifle ball just creased him and knocked him out,” Preacher said. “Von Kuhner’s men should’ve finished him off, but likely they figured he was dead, too, just like you did, ma’am. But he survived, and he’s been livin’ in the woods by his ownself ever since.”
“The ghost of the forest,” Katarina said as she lifted a hand to her mouth. “It must have been poor Helmuth!”
“The ghost of the forest?”
Coburn said, “Yeah, I’ve heard the Blackfeet talkin’ about that. They used to catch a glimpse, ever’ now and then, of some weird figure in the woods. They never could catch it or even get a good look at it. They decided it must be some sort of evil spirit. Some food would be missin’ from time to time, and they said the ghost of the forest took it. The squaws would scare the little ones into behavin’ by tellin’ ’em if they weren’t good, the ghost of the forest would get ’em.” Coburn laughed. “It was ol’ Helmuth all along! Good for him. I’m glad to hear he’s alive.”
“Well . . . I don’t know if he still is. There was a lot of shootin’ earlier. I don’t know who lived . . . and who died.”
“It’s too bad he ain’t here,” mused Coburn. “If he’s been livin’ on his own around these parts for five years, he probably knows ever’ good hidin’ place.”
“Yeah,” Preacher agreed, “but for right now, we’ll have to get along without him, I reckon.”
They were about two miles away from the Blackfoot village, Preacher estimated, when they came to a narrow ravine with a tiny stream flowing along the bottom of it. Preacher almost stepped into the yawning emptiness, but Dog sensed it and warned him with a growl and a push of his nose against the mountain man’s leg.
Once Preacher knew the ravine was there, he was able to see into it and studied it for a long moment before saying, “This wouldn’t be a bad place to hide. That creek I can hear down there might flood at other times of year, but not now with winter settin’ in. Let’s see if I can find a place where the ladies can climb down.”
The snow had started falling harder. The wind still blew, but it hadn’t increased in force, so it wasn’t a blizzard, just a fairly heavy snowstorm. The snow might drift some in the bottom of the ravine, but Preacher didn’t think it would be a problem.
After a while, his search turned up a place where the slope was gradual enough to be handled, as long as the ladies were careful climbing down. Coburn volunteered to make the descent first to be sure it was all right. He took one of Preacher’s Colts with him in case he ran into any trouble, and Preacher stayed at the top to guard against anything up there.
Eventually, everyone was at the bottom of the ravine. Preacher guided them along it until he came to a spot where the bank had enough of an overhang to provide at least a little protection against the elements.
“A fire’s risky,” he said, “but I reckon you ladies must be about froze by now, so we got to take the chance.”
He found enough dry brush, and dead grass for kindling, to get a small blaze going with flint and steel. The women huddled around it so tightly for warmth that their bodies blocked most of the glow from the flames. The smoke still drifted up, though, and it represented the greatest danger if the Blackfeet already had search parties out.
Even though he hated to leave them there, Preacher knew he had to go back to the Blackfoot village. He had to find out what had happened to Jamie . . . and the others. If possible, he would slip into one of the lodges and steal some robes and blankets for the ladies, otherwise they might not survive the cold. At least they had Reese Coburn to look after them while he was gone.
Preacher told Coburn, “You hang on to that revolver. I’m headin’ back to Stone Bear’s village.”
Katarina put a hand on his arm and said, “Do you have to go, Preacher?”
“I got friends who probably need my help,” he replied. “Don’t worry. I won’t do nothin’ foolhardy.”
Reese Coburn gave him a look that said the man didn’t believe that at all. “I wish I could come with you. Whatever you do, you’ll be facin’ mighty steep odds.”
Preacher grinned. “Wouldn’t know any other way to go about it.” And that was the truth. “Come on, Dog.”
In a matter of seconds, both of them vanished into the still-swirling snow.
Chapter 38
Even at night, in the middle of a snowstorm, Preacher and Dog had no trouble retracing the steps that had taken them from the Blackfoot camp to the primitive shelter of the ravine. They had just reached the ridge overlooking the valley in which the village lay when Dog stopped suddenly and growled. Preacher reached down and felt the hair standing up on the back of the big cur’s neck.
He dropped to one knee next to Dog, put an arm around his neck, and whispered, “What is it, old son? Blackfeet?”
Instead, a muttering apparition came stumbling out of the snowfall and nearly tripped over them.
Preacher surged to his feet, grabbed the figure, and clapped a hand over the man’s mouth. Taken by surprise, Helmuth tried to jerk away and then began writhing and struggling madly when he couldn’t.
Preacher had heard what he was saying and recognized the language as German even though he didn’t understand the words. That and the figure’s shape, gaunt yet bulky at the same time because of the bearskin garment, had told him who he and Dog had just run into in the snowstorm.
“Helmuth!” Preacher said as he bent his head closer. “Helmuth, stop fightin’, damn it! It’s me, Preacher. I’m your friend, remember? Helmuth!”
The urgent repetition of the man’s name finally got through to him. His struggles lessened and then stopped altogether. He stood there, breathing hard, as Preacher hung on to him.
“Now, I’m gonna take my hand away from your mouth, and you ain’t gonna yell, right?” It seemed to Preacher like he was spending an awful lot of time asking that question tonight. He was getting tired of it.
After a moment, Helmuth nodded. Preacher lifted his hand from the half-crazed fellow’s mouth.
As Helmuth had promised, he didn’t shout, but he did ask, “Where are the others? Did you rescue them?”
“I got ’em away from the Blackfeet, and they’re in a safe place,” Preacher told him. “As safe as I could find for ’em under the circumstances, anyway. I’m on my way back to Stone Bear’s village, and you’re comin’ with me.” Even in the thick, snow-shrouded darkness, Preacher could see the whites of the man’s eyes as he reacted to that statement.
Helmuth cringed away from him. “No! I . . . I cannot go there. It’s too dangerous!”
“I’d take you back to where the gals are if there was time, but I got to find out what happened to Jamie and the others. And I don’t want you wanderin’ around out here by yourself. Ain’t no tellin’ what sort of mischief you might get into, even if it was by accident. So you’re coming with me where I can keep an eye on you.”
Helmuth shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t, I won’t—”
Dog growled.
Helmuth stopped talking and gulped then he moaned and said, “Don’t make me go back to the village.”
“You don’t have to go into the village itself, I reckon. I’ll leave you on the ridge. But you’ll have to stay put until I come back for you. You got that?”
Helmuth put his hands on his head, and instead of answering directly, he said, “All that shooting . . . it was so loud. And there was blood everywhere. All those men
died.”
“What about Jamie?” asked Preacher. He tried to keep his voice calm and not let Helmuth hear the urgency he felt. “Did you see what happened to him?”
“Who?”
“Jamie MacCallister. The big man who’s my friend. The one who isn’t a soldier.”
“I . . . I do not know. I don’t remember. I don’t think I saw . . . what happened to him. The men in the tall hats started shooting . . . and I ran. I wanted to get far away from there. They were doing bad things.”
That was sure as hell the truth, thought Preacher. He believed that Helmuth didn’t know what Jamie’s fate had been. To find that out, he was going to have to venture into the Blackfoot village, more than likely.
Helmuth started to sob. Preacher patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and said, “Hang on, old son. I know you’ve been through a bunch of mighty bad trouble, and you just want to be done with all of it. So do I. The sooner I find out what I need to know, the sooner we can both get outta here. So come on. It’ll be all right.”
Helmuth sniffled, but after a moment, he drew the sleeve of his bearskin garment across his face and then nodded. “All right. I will go with you. But I will not go into Stone Bear’s village.”
“That’s fine. Just do what I tell you, and you’ll be fine.”
“What did you say your name is?”
“Preacher,” the mountain man replied.
“That is a strange name.”
Preacher chuckled. “When we get outta this mess, I’ll tell you the story of why folks started callin’ me that.”
* * *
Jamie and the other prisoners were prodded into a single lodge. It was crowded with all ten of them, but at least they were together and the body heat they gave off helped warm the air inside the lodge.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jamie said quietly to Colonel Sutton and Lieutenant Curry. “Outnumbered the way we are, it seems like there’s only one way we’re getting out of here . . . and that’s if the Blackfeet let us go.”
“They’re not going to do that,” Sutton said.
When All Hell Broke Loose Page 24