His attitude had undergone a dramatic turnaround in a few seconds. Preacher still thought he was a stiff- necked, judgmental varmint, but Bartlett had offered his hand and an apology. A man couldn’t do more than that. Preacher gripped Bartlett’s hand and nodded.
“This here’s Lorenzo,” he said with a nod toward the black man. “He ain’t a slave. He’s a freedman.”
Bartlett shook hands with him as well.
“And the lady’s name is Cassandra,” Preacher went on.
“But my friends call me Casey,” she added.
Bartlett nodded to her. “Miss,” he said. “That fellow making a fuss over you is my son Roland, as you’ve no doubt figured out by now.”
“Pa!” Roland said, looking embarrassed. “I’m not making a fuss over anybody.”
Bartlett grunted. “Yes, well . . .” He swung back toward Preacher. “Fate has led you to us, sir. Is there any chance you’d consider accepting my proposition?”
“You mean about comin’ along with your wagon train to Santa Fe?”
“Indeed. I’ve heard it said that you probably know more about the country west of the Mississippi than any man alive.”
“I ain’t so sure about that,” Preacher said, “but it’s true I’ve been to see the elephant. You don’t really need a guide, though. The trail ain’t that hard to follow.”
“Call it an advisor, then,” Bartlett said. “There are bound to be pitfalls along the way, and circumstances where I could use the counsel of a canny frontiersman.”
“Have you made this trip before?” Preacher asked.
“No, this will be the first time, although some of my men have worked on other wagon trains that made the journey.”
In that case, it was probably true there would be times when Bartlett could use some advice from a man who knew what he was talking about. It was also true that Preacher, Lorenzo, and Casey had discussed trying to hook up with one of the freight wagon caravans headed west. There was a lot of dangerous country between Independence and Santa Fe, and they would be safer with the wagons than trying to go it alone.
Preacher looked at Lorenzo and Casey.
The old-timer said, “Whatever you want to do is fine with me, Preacher. You know a lot more about this sort of thing than I do.”
“That goes for me, too,” Casey said.
Preacher saw that Roland was watching and waiting for his decision with barely concealed eagerness. The young man was obviously looking forward to the possibility of spending the next several weeks traveling with Casey.
Since Preacher didn’t have a jealous bone in his body, that was all right with him. He turned to Bartlett and nodded. “Sounds like a pretty good idea. You’re pullin’ out in the mornin’, you said?”
Bartlett smiled and replied, “At first light.”
“I’ll have to go back to the stable and get our horses. But when your wagons are ready to roll, we’ll be ready to ride.”
CHAPTER 3
Preacher was up before dawn the next morning, intending to return to the stable and collect their horses and gear. He and Lorenzo and Casey had planned to sleep there, but the three of them had actually spent the night under one of the wagons in the freight caravan. Lorenzo and Casey had still been rolled up in their blankets sleeping when Preacher crawled out to fetch the horses.
Leeman Bartlett was already up, stirring the embers of the cook fire back to life. Preacher told him where he was bound, and Bartlett said, “The coffee will be ready by the time you get back. I trust you slept well?”
“Well enough,” Preacher said. “I sorta kept one eye open, in case that bunch came back.” He shrugged. “I never sleep as well in a town as I do out in the open.”
“We’ll be in the open soon enough,” Bartlett commented. “There’s not much between here and Santa Fe
“Not much,” Preacher agreed. “Other than scorchin’ sun, rattlesnakes, cyclones that come outta nowhere, gangs of highwaymen, and bands of hostile Injuns. But that’s all,” he added dryly.
Bartlett chuckled. “You make it sound like the wise thing to do would be to turn around and go back to St. Louis.”
“There’s no profit in turnin’ back. And if you
“That’s the plan,” Bartlett said with a nod as the flames began to crackle. “I’ve invested a great deal in this venture. I believe the odds of it being successful went up a great deal when you came into our camp last night.”
“Reckon we’ll see about that,” Preacher said.
When Preacher got to the stable the hostler who worked nights was still on duty and didn’t question their absence. They had already paid, so that was all that mattered to the man.
True to Bartlett’s word, the coffee was ready when Preacher got back with the horses. So were flapjacks and bacon. Lorenzo and Casey were up and already eating. Casey looked mighty cute as she sat on a keg near the fire
