“You might be wrong about that,” Preacher said. “If a fella really loves you, he ain’t gonna care all that much about what happened before. All that’s really gonna matter to him is the here and now.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“I do.”
She slipped her arm through his. “I hope you’re right, Preacher. I really do.”
“So what are you gonna do about Roland?”
“I don’t know. Wait until we get to Santa Fe and see what happens then, I suppose.” She laughed. “He’s madly in love with me.”
“Well, of course he is. I reckon most of them bullwhackers are, too.”
“No, they just want me to crawl into their bedrolls with them. Roland has all sorts of romantic notions, though.”
“With a name like that, I reckon he’d have to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Friend of mine from the mountains up north named Audie, he’s a real educated fella and knows all sorts of things. I recollect listenin’ to him recite this poem once about a French knight named Roland, and ever’body knows them French fellas are romantic.”
“What happened to the Roland in the poem?”
Preacher didn’t want to tell her that the knight wound up getting killed in battle. He scratched his beard and grinned. “Well, I don’t rightly remember the end of the poem. You see, the rest of the fellas was passin’ around a jug while Audie was recitin’ . . .”
Casey laughed. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”
They had walked a complete circuit of the camp while they were talking. Preacher glanced toward the wagons and said, “I expect we better get back ’fore folks start to worry about us.”
“You mean Roland?”
“Well, if anybody tells him they saw the two of us goin’ for a walk together, he’s liable to get upset again.”
“I appreciate you not hurting him before.”
“Like I said, he ain’t a bad sort, just young and inexperienced. He’ll learn, if he lives long enough.”
Casey stopped and turned so she was facing him. “I want a good-bye kiss,” she said firmly.
“We ain’t sayin’ good-bye,” Preacher objected. “It’ll be another week or more before we make it to Santa Fe, and it ain’t like you’ll never see me again once we get there.”
“Yes, but we’re saying good-bye to what might have been between us. From here on out, we’ll just be friends.”
“Can you live with that?”
“I’ll have to.” She smiled up at him, close enough that he felt the warmth of her breath on his face. “But I want that kiss first.”
“Well, hell,” Preacher said. “I can do that.”
He thumbed his hat back, slipped one arm around her, and bent his head to bring his mouth to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. He responded to the heat of her firm body and the sweet urgency of her lips and told himself he might kick himself in the future for practically pushing her into Roland Bartlett’s arms. But some things were meant to be, and some weren’t.
The kiss lasted for a long moment. Then he pulled back, smiled down at her, and said, “All right, we best get back now.”
“Preacher . . .”
“Don’t argue with me, now,” he said.
“Preacher!”
The moon and stars were bright enough for him to see the shocked expression that suddenly appeared on her face. At the same time, he caught a whiff of a rank, musty odor. His blood turned cold in his veins.
“That damn bear’s right behind me, ain’t it?” he said.
CHAPTER 12
Casey nodded as she continued staring in horror over Preacher’s shoulder. For a split-second, the mountain man felt like a damned fool. He had told everybody else to stay close to camp and always be in a group, and yet here he had wandered off. Even worse, he’d brought Casey with him.
He shoved those thoughts out of his head. He didn’t have time for them.
Instead he said, “Gimme that pistol I gave you.”
She swallowed hard, but she pressed the weapon into his hand. “Preacher, what are we going to do? You said you couldn’t kill that creature with pistols.”
“What’s he doin’?”
“Just . . . just standing there. My God, he’s huge!”
