“I can,” Charlie said.
The two fur trappers nodded, and the riverman muttered something, obviously agreeing because Charlie pulled back the empty chair at the table and sat down. The gambler had the deal, so he shuffled, cut, and began passing out the cards.
One of Red Mike’s gals brought over another mug of beer and set it on the table in front of Preacher. He hadn’t had to ask for it. They saw to his needs. He said, “Thank you, darlin’,” then added, “Hold on a minute.”
“You need something else, Preacher?” The tone of her voice and the bold gaze in her eyes made it plain she wouldn’t mind providing whatever he wanted.
She seemed a little disappointed when he said, “You know any of those fellas playin’ poker over there?”
“Besides your friend, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
She cocked her auburn-haired head a little to the side. “I don’t know the two trappers. They’re new in these parts. The riverman’s name is Dooley or something like that. He’s a keelboater. We see him in here sometimes, even though most of the keelboat men do their drinking elsewhere. The fancy-dressed one is Edmund Cornelius. He’s been coming around for the past couple of weeks.”
“Honest gambler, is he?”
The girl shrugged. “There haven’t been any shootings or stabbings over the games he’s in. That’s all I can tell you, Preacher.”
He nodded. The girl lingered, rested a hand on his buckskin-clad shoulder, and went on. “You’re sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?”
“You know I’m probably old enough to be your pa, don’t you?”
“But you ain’t my pa, are you?”
He grinned. “Not as far as I know. Might be best not to take the chance, though.”
She laughed, shook her head, and went back to the bar. Preacher resumed watching the poker game.
The keelboatman won the next hand, but Charlie folded early and didn’t lose much. The gambler took the next two pots, but again, Charlie played cautiously and lost only a small amount, as far as Preacher could tell. Then he won a hand and recouped most of what he’d lost so far.
Play went on like that for a while, with Charlie losing more than he won but winning often enough to keep him from going too far in the hole. Preacher watched the gambler, Edmund Cornelius, most of the time but also, now and then, studied how the other three men played. He didn’t see any signs of cheating, which was his main worry.
After an hour, the keelboatman threw in his cards for the last time, said, “That’s it for me, boys,” and stood up. He didn’t seem upset, just done for the evening. He left the tavern, and while Cornelius, who had won the last hand, shuffled the cards, Preacher got to his feet and ambled over to the table.
“See you’ve got an empty chair,” he said. “Anybody mind if I fill it for a spell?”
“You’re welcome to join us, friend, as far as I’m concerned,” Cornelius said. “That is, if you have the money.”
“I ain’t broke.” Preacher looked at the other two men, who nodded their agreement with his request to join the game.
One of the trappers said, “Didn’t I see the two of you fellas sittin’ together a while ago?” He nodded from Preacher to Charlie.
“That’s right. We’re partners. Been out in the high lonesome trappin’.” The mountain man extended a hand. “They call me Preacher.”
The man who had spoken grunted in surprise, but he clasped Preacher’s hand. “Heard tell of you, plenty of times. I’m Hank Kanigher. This here’s Bill Bridwell.”
“And I’m Edmund Cornelius,” the gambler introduced himself after Preacher shook and howdied with Bridwell, too. Cornelius took Preacher’s hand in a firm grip, unlike the limp, cold, dead fish handshake many gamblers had. Evidently he had done some actual work at some point in his life.
If he had any idea of the real reason why Preacher had joined the game, he gave no sign of it. The mountain man wanted to get a closer look at the other players. He didn’t intend for anybody to cheat Charlie and get away with it.
Charlie seemed to have a suspicion of Preacher’s true motive, judging by the frown on his face. Like most young men, he resented being looked after, even though sometimes he clearly needed it. But he didn’t say anything as play got underway again.
The other men talked quite a bit, though. The game itself, the money won or lost and the excitement of wagering, wasn’t the only appeal of poker. The companionship meant a great deal, too. Kanigher and Bridwell talked some about their experiences while trapping in the Rockies, but having heard of Preacher, who had become something of a legend in that part of the country, they wanted to hear about his exploits.
“Is it true,” Bridwell asked, “that you used to slip into Injun camps and cut the throats of some of them red devils whilst they slept, so the bloodthirsty varmints never woke up?”
Kanigher put in, “They had it comin’, if you ask me.”
“Only the Blackfeet,” Preacher said as he looked at the cards Cornelius had just dealt him. “I’ve tangled with warriors from many another tribe, now and then, but they were honorable fightin’ men, and even though we might be tryin’ to kill each other, I never stopped respectin’ ’em. The Blackfeet, though . . .” He tossed a coin into the pot. “I spose there must be a good one here and there, but if there is, I never run into him.”
Charlie said, “They call Preacher Ghost Killer, because of what you just brought up, Hank—the way he can get in and out of their camps without ever being seen.”
Cornelius chuckled. “You sound like quite a formidable adversary, Preacher. I’ll take care to always stay on your good side.”
“My friend and I were really lucky when we ran into Preacher, all right,” Charlie said.
“You’ve got another partner?” Bridwell asked.
A solemn expression came over Charlie’s face. “I did. My friend Aaron. But . . . he didn’t make it out of the mountains.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cornelius said. “I guess you’re not infallible, eh, Preacher?”
“Nobody is,” the mountain man said, his voice hardening.
“Oh, I meant no offense. From what I hear, that wilderness out there is a dangerous place.” The gambler looked around the table. “To be honest, I’m a bit surprised that any of you make it out of there alive. But I suppose the risks are worth it, eh? You get to live as you choose, then come back here and reap the rewards when you sell the furs you harvest.”
“That’s right,” Charlie said. “We already sold our pelts and collected a tidy sum for them, didn’t we, Preacher?”
“They didn’t bring as much as they once did,” Preacher said. He frowned at Charlie, hoping the boy would understand that how much they’d been paid for the furs wasn’t anybody else’s business. He’d already boasted a little to Lucy Tarleton, and now he repeated that exaggeration with these strangers.
“Well, it seemed like a lot to me,” Charlie went on heedlessly. “I’m going to take Aaron’s share back to his family. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Indeed,” Cornelius agreed. “Very commendable of you. Now, gentlemen, what’s the bet going to be?”
The game went on, the subject of the money Preacher and Charlie had gotten for the furs seemingly forgotten.
Preacher hoped that actually was the case.
CHAPTER 4
Early the next morning, Preacher showed up at the inn where Charlie had a room, having arranged to meet the young man there for breakfast. A bleary-eyed Charlie walked out of the building to join Preacher and head for a nearby café.
“I think I drank too much beer last night,” Charlie said as he took his hat off and ran his fingers through sleep-tousled hair. “After all those months in the mountains without any, I suppose I’m not used to it.”
“You’ll feel better once you get a few cups of coffee in you,” Preacher told him. “Are you startin’ back home today? You know I figure on you takin’ one of the packhorses with you for y
our supplies.”
“I’m, ah, not leaving St. Louis just yet. I thought I might stay around here for a while.”
Preacher frowned. “It’s a long ride back to Virginia. Probably be best if you didn’t wait too long.”
“That’s true, but I don’t think a short delay will hurt anything.” Charlie laughed. “You almost sound like you’re eager to get rid of me, Preacher.”
“Nope. But I’ll be headin’ back to the mountains before long myself, to spend the winter there, and I’d like to see you safely on your way first.”
Charlie said, “Why don’t you come with me? I could introduce you to my family, instead of just telling them all about you. And you could help me tell Aaron’s family about what happened to him.”
Although he had made that suggestion before, Preacher didn’t intend to take him up on it.
“I appreciate the invite, but St. Louis is plenty of civilization for me. Too much, really.” Preacher paused, then asked, “Are you lingerin’ here because of that gal you met yesterday evenin’?”
“You mean Miss Tarleton?”
“She’s the only gal you actually know in these parts, ain’t she?”
Charlie cleared his throat, and when Preacher looked over at him, he saw the blush on the young man’s face.
“We did tell Lucy that we’d meet her for dinner at Trammell’s again today, and I thought I’d go back to Red Mike’s to play cards with Edmund Cornelius this evening.”
“I ain’t so sure that’s a good idea.”
Charlie looked sharply at him. “What’s wrong with Lucy? I think she’s a very nice young lady.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. She seems pleasant enough, I reckon. I meant about sittin’ in on that game with Cornelius.”
“You played cards with him.”
“I did,” Preacher said, “but mostly so’s I could keep a closer eye on him and make sure he didn’t try to cheat you.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “What in the world made you think he’d do that?”
“The fella is a professional gambler.”
“Well, he didn’t cheat me,” Charlie insisted.
“You came out on the losin’ end of the game last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I only lost a couple of dollars, total. That’s not much, considering how long we played. And you won a few dollars, as I recall. Did you see any sign that Edmund might be cheating?”
“No, I didn’t,” Preacher admitted. “There’s just somethin’ about the fella that makes me not trust him.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”
Maybe Charlie was right, Preacher mused. Maybe he had no reason to be so suspicious. His instincts had kept him alive this long, though, so he tended to trust them. And Charlie, bless his heart, was maybe a mite too trusting.
Young fellas had to make their own mistakes and learn from them. With luck, such mistakes wouldn’t prove to be fatal.
* * *
The sun slanting in through a gap in the curtains over the window made Edmund Cornelius groan as it struck his eyes. For that very reason, he never liked having a hotel room on the east side of a building. Waking up before noon always seemed downright depressing to him. For that very reason, among others, he followed a profession in which he could sleep during the day and go about his business at night.
Not today, though. Today he and his partner would accomplish their current goal while the sun loomed high overhead. At its zenith, in fact, if all went according to plan.
Cornelius groaned again and rolled over. That brought him face-to-face with the young woman still sleeping next to him. Cornelius reached out with a long-fingered hand made for dealing cards and moved aside a wing of thick brown hair that had fallen in front of her face.
“Wake up, Lucy,” he said.
Lucy Tarleton stirred, made some distinctly unladylike noises, and then opened her eyes. She winced at the brightness in the room. “Edmund, why are you bothering me at the crack of dawn?”
“It’s long past dawn, my dear. In fact, judging by the light I’d say it’s the middle of the morning. We have to get up so we can prepare for this day’s work.”
She stifled a yawn and asked, “How difficult can it be? That fat fool doesn’t know we’re working together. He doesn’t even have any idea that we know each other.”
Cornelius sat up, partially dislodging the sheet draped over Lucy’s exquisite, unclad form. The sight of her bare, creamy skin distracted him quite a bit, but he forced his mind back onto more important things. “We need to pack. I want all our bags ready to be taken down and loaded on the Majestic before noon. She casts off at twelve-thirty.”
“I know. We’ll have plenty of time.” Lucy sat up and stretched, distracting Cornelius even more. “He’s supposed to meet me at the restaurant at noon. I’m certain he’ll wait there for at least half an hour before he figures out that I’m not coming. And even then, he won’t want to admit it, even to himself. He’ll wait around longer, hoping that he’s wrong.”
“You seem very sure of that.”
“I should be.” She smiled as she lifted her arms and ran her fingers through her hair. “I know men.”
“Yes, I suppose you know them very well,” Cornelius said. “You should, by now. We’ve been working together for a year, and I’m hardly your first partner in crime, am I?”
She glared at him and snapped, “It’s not a crime when you’re taking money away from someone that foolish. Can you believe he actually told me he planned to hide that pouch full of gold coins in his hotel room? He thinks it will be safer there! He deserves to lose them.”
“Where was the mountain man when Charlie told you this?” Cornelius wanted to know. He didn’t trust anyone, certainly not the men they targeted to rob.
“He’d stepped out to visit the privy. I think Charlie was trying to impress me with his intelligence while Preacher was gone.”
A worried frown creased the gambler’s forehead as he said, “Perhaps we should wait until Preacher has left St. Louis. From the things I’ve heard about him, he’s a bad man to have as an enemy. A very bad man.”
Lucy threw back the sheet the rest of the way, swung her legs out of bed, and stood up. The morning light made a figure of golden beauty out of her, almost like a statue come to life, lovely enough to take any man’s breath away.
“I’m not worried about Preacher,” she said. “If we wait too long, Charlie might decide to leave town first, and then where would we be?”
“You could make him linger, though, couldn’t you?”
“I can make him do whatever I want,” Lucy purred. “But it’s not necessary. Just be at his hotel a little before noon and search his room. It won’t take you long to find the money, I’m sure. There are only so many hiding places. I’ll meet you at the riverboat and we’ll be miles down the Mississippi toward New Orleans before Charlie ever knows what’s happened. He’ll never find us, and neither will Preacher.”
“Don’t underestimate that mountain man,” Cornelius said.
Lucy laughed. “Preacher may be a force to be reckoned with in the mountains, but we’re going to New Orleans. An uneducated lout like him would never stand a chance there!”
CHAPTER 5
After breakfast, Preacher and Charlie went to Higginbotham’s Mercantile, where Preacher usually picked up the supplies he needed for his trips to the mountains. He visited with the proprietor for a while before giving the man the list of the goods he wanted to purchase. Since Preacher didn’t know for sure when he would leave town, they reached an agreement that the supplies would be packed up and stored there until the time came for him to collect them.
As they left the store, Charlie said, “You know everybody in St. Louis, don’t you?”
“No, not hardly,” Preacher replied. “But I’ve been goin’ to the mountains for quite a spell and doin’ business with folks here for that long, too. It makes sense I’ve gotten to know some of ’em pretty well.”
; They walked around the sprawling settlement for a while. As they strolled along the riverfront, Charlie paused to look at a side-wheeler tied up at one of the wharves. The large, impressive boat had the name Majestic lettered across its stern. Workers loaded cargo on it in anticipation of its obviously imminent departure.
“Have you ever ridden on one of those, Preacher?” Charlie asked the mountain man.
“Yep, several times. Went up the Missouri on one of ’em a few years back. Ran into all kinds of trouble, too.”
Charlie chuckled. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. Have you ever gone anywhere you didn’t run into trouble?”
“I’m sure I have.” With a frown, Preacher went on. “Got to admit, though, right now I can’t think of where it might’ve been.”
As they continued walking around St. Louis, Charlie talked about Lucy Tarleton. Clearly, the girl had made a big impression on him.
“She’s very devoted to her aunt, you know,” Charlie said. “They travel together frequently.”
“How come?”
Charlie frowned. “You mean, why is she devoted to her aunt?”
“No, I mean how do they come to do all that travelin’?”
“Well, I”—Charlie’s frown deepened—“I don’t know. She never really explained that part. I suppose they just enjoy traveling. Some people do. You should understand that, since you’re always on the move yourself.”
“Yeah, I’m a fiddle-footed sort,” Preacher admitted. “Don’t see that very often in ladies, though.”
“I’ll ask her when we meet for dinner later at the restaurant,” Charlie said. “That is, if I can come up with a way to do so without seeming to pry too much. I mean, it’s really not any of our business, is it?”
“Reckon not.” Preacher waited a few moments, then asked, “Where are they from?”
“Lucy and her aunt?” Charlie sounded a little irritated now, rather than puzzled. “She never said. I didn’t demand answers to such questions, though. We simply had a pleasant conversation, and the subjects you’re addressing now never came up.” Charlie paused, then said, “You still think there’s something suspicious about her, don’t you?”
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