to watch the assault.
He had no way of knowing how many times the bear was hit. All he could tell for sure was that the bear swung around, bellowing in pain and rage, and disappeared into the night like a big, hairy, moving mountain. The shots trailed off. There was nothing left to shoot at.
Casey came running up to Preacher and threw her arms around him. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry, he didn’t lay a claw on me,” Preacher told her. “I ain’t quite sure how I managed to stay out of his reach, but I did.”
“Thank God,” she murmured as she hugged him and pressed her face against his chest.
“Whose idea was it to bring the horses out there and fetch me?” he asked.
She looked up at him. “That was Roland’s idea.”
Preacher saw that the young man had dismounted, along with his father. Roland held the horses, his expression stony, as his father went over to join Preacher and Casey.
“Good Lord, what a narrow escape!” Bartlett said. “Are you injured, Preacher?”
The mountain man shook his head. “Nope. Thanks to you and Roland and Lorenzo.”
“That beast is a behemoth. Surely it must be the largest bear there ever was.”
“I reckon there’s probably been bigger. But it’s plenty big enough, that’s for sure.”
“At least it shouldn’t bother us anymore.”
Preacher frowned and asked, “What makes you say that?”
Bartlett returned the frown. “Well, you shot it at close range with those pistols, and I’m certain my men hit it numerous times with their rifles. Surely after this encounter the beast will slink off somewhere and die of its wounds.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Preacher said. “Bears are mighty tough critters, and like I told you before, they’re hard to kill.” He shrugged. “But maybe you’re right. I’ll do some scoutin’ when it gets light, see if I can find the body.”
The camp was settling down now that the danger was over, at least for the time being. Preacher went over to Roland Bartlett, who had started unsaddling his horse.
“I’m obliged to you,” Preacher said as he held out his hand. “Casey told me it was your idea to ride out there and get me.”
Roland hesitated. He had seen Casey hugging him, Preacher knew, and was still jealous. He didn’t know that the relationship between the two of them was definitely over, and Casey’s hug had been because she was relieved Preacher was still alive.
After a moment, Roland shook hands with him. He didn’t appear too friendly about it, but he gripped Preacher’s hand firmly enough.
“It seemed to be the only way to save your life,” he said. “I’m glad we were able to get to you in time. My father is counting on you to help us get to Santa Fe safely.”
“I’ll do my best,” Preacher promised.
“I suppose Casey owes her life to you yet again,” Roland went on. “If you had panicked when that bear showed up, it probably would have killed both of you.”
“More’n likely,” Preacher agreed. “Casey and I are square. She’s helped me out plenty of times. That’s what friends do for each other.”
“Friends, eh?” Roland sounded like he didn’t believe that.
Preacher nodded. “Yep. Ask her yourself.”
“No offense, but what I ask Casey or don’t ask her is none of your business, Preacher.”
“That’s exactly right,” Preacher responded, hoping that Roland would understand what he was getting at. But if he didn’t, it was the youngster’s own fault for being so dense.
Everybody was on edge because of the bear, so it was no trouble getting extra volunteers to stand guard that night. The creature didn’t make a return appearance, and no other problems cropped up.
Preacher saddled Horse the next morning after breakfast. Lorenzo came up to him and asked, “You goin’ lookin’ for that bear?”
“Thought I would. If it’s dead, then these folks can relax. About that, anyway,” Preacher added. “There are still plenty of other things out here that can kill ’em.”
“That’s the truth. You want me to come with you?”
Preacher shook his head. “No, you stay with the wagons. I won’t be gone long.”
Before he left, he found Leeman Bartlett and told the man, “You’ll be seein’ the Arkansas River off to your left today. The trail’s gonna run beside it for a ways. I don’t reckon you’ll get that far before I get back, but just in case I get held up somehow, be on the lookout for a creek that’ll run into the river from the north. That’ll be Mullberry Creek. Right there’s where you want to ford the Arkansas and angle off southwest. You’ll be able to see the wagon tracks on the other side of the river.”
“You mean that’s the beginning of the Cimarron Cutoff?” Bartlett said. “I have a map that I’ve studied quite a bit.”
Preacher nodded. “That’s it. When you get there, you’ll be just past halfway from Independence to Santa Fe.”
