“Nobody,” Smoke said. “Couldn’t find a minister. Went all the way into Utah Territory looking.”
“Well … I always believed it was what was in your hearts that counted. Knowed you was in love when I seen you fall off your horse.”
“I didn’t fall off my horse!”
“Did, too.”
“Did not!”
“I’ll go fix supper,” Nicole said.
When she had closed the door to the cabin, Preacher said, “Good thing you didn’t ride east, boy — warrants out for you all over the place.”
They walked to the lean-to and stabled the horses, rubbing them down with burlap. Preacher gave Smoke the news.
“Got warrants for you with your pitcher on ’em at the Springs and at Walsenburg. Don’t ride no further east than the Los Pinos — you hear?”
Smoke looked at him, then opened his mouth to protest.
“You married now, son. You got ’sponsibilities to that there woman who’s a-carryin’ your child. And you got men huntin’ you. That there Potter and Richards … ’mong others. Price on your head, too. Big money. They some ’fraid of you, boy — or something like it.”
“It’s a mystery to me. What’d you hear about Potter and Stratton and Richards?”
“They all up in Ideeho Territory. Up in the wild country. All live in or around a town called Bury.”
“B-e-r-r-y?”
“No. Like you plant somebody in the ground. Way I got the story, Smoke, your Pa rode in that there town like a wild man, reins ’tween his teeth, both hands full of Colts. Kilt three or four, wounded two-three more, and took a right smart ’mount of gold them men took from the Rebs. Way I heared it, no one knowed him up there in Bury, so he hung around for a week or two ’fore he made his move, listenin’ till he learned where the gold was.”
“Wonder what he did with the gold?”
Old eyes studied the young man. “You interested in it?”
“Not in the least.”
“I hoped you’d say that.”
“If they leave me alone, I’ll leave them alone.”
“It ain’t gonna work thataway, boy.”
“What do you mean?”
“You got bounty hunters sniffin’ your back trail. They’s at least three thousand dollars on your head, dead or alive. All of it put up by them three men up in the territory. That’s big money, boy — big money. That’s why I come back so soon. Got to have somebody watchin’ your back.”
“Don’t those bounty hunters know the truth about me? About what happened to Pa and Luke?”
“They don’t care, son. They after the money and to hell with how they earn it. Most bounty hunters is scum. I’d shoot a bounty hunter on sight — take his hair.”
“We’re going to raise horses here, Preacher. Run some cattle directly. You and me and Nicole. We’re going to raise a family, and our children will need a grandfather — that’s you, you old goat.”
“Thank you. Nicest thing you’ve said to me in months.”
“I haven’t seen you in months!”
“That’s right. You keep them guns of yourn loose. When the girl gonna birth?”
“November, she thinks.”
“Just like a woman. Don’t never know nothin’ for sure.”
The summer passed uneventfully, with Smoke tending to his huge gardens and looking after his growing herd of horses. Preacher hunted for game, curing some of the meat, making pemmican out of the rest.
In the first week of July, much to Preacher’s disgust, Nicole sent him off to the nearest town for some canning jars.
“What the hell is a cannin’ jug?”
“Jars,” she corrected. “They have screw-down, airtight lids. They keep food fresh and good-tasting for months.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Probably,” Smoke said, saddling Preacher’s pony.
“And don’t forget the lids,” Nicole reminded him. “And the vinegar. “And you come right back, now, Preacher. No dilly-dallying around, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said sourly. “And don’t fergit the lids!” he mimicked under his breath. “Shore hope none of my compadres see me doin’ this. Never live it down.”
He continued to mutter as he rode off. “I fit a grizzly bear and won one time,” he said. “Now I’m runnin’ errands to git jug lids. Ain’t nobody got no respect for an old man.”
