“I was a mite put out,” Preacher admitted. “But yeah, it was mostly just to make Buckhalter think he’d done got rid of us.”
Uncle Dan cackled. “He’s gonna be mighty surprised when he finds out he’s wrong, ain’t he?”
“I damn sure hope so,” Preacher said. He reined in and went on, “Let’s wait here a few minutes, then we’ll turn around and head back to the camp so we can keep an eye on it tonight.”
As they sat there on their horses, Uncle Dan sighed and said, “I sure wish ol’ Buckhalter had waited until after supper to spring that little trap o’ his.”
“After we find out what’s goin’ on, maybe Mrs. Donnelly will have some leftovers you can scrounge,” Preacher told him with a smile.
“Preacher . . . you wasn’t really makin’ advances toward Miz Donnelly, were you?”
Preacher’s smile went away and was replaced by a frown. “Hell, no. You oughta know me better’n that, Uncle Dan.”
“Well, I didn’t think you would, but you gotta remember, I ain’t really knowed you all that long. And you can know a feller for years and years and then have him surprise you when it comes to women.”
“I suppose that’s true. But in this case, naw, there was nothin’ dicey goin’ on—”
Preacher stopped short as a growl came from Dog. He looked down at the big cur, and despite the poor light, he could tell that Dog was standing stiffly and gazing off to the east as another growl came from his throat.
“Quiet, Dog,” Preacher said softly.
“What’s got him stirred up?” Uncle Dan asked. “Some sort o’ animal, maybe?”
“Yeah. Maybe some two-legged ones.”
Uncle Dan’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Them Pawnee!”
“Chances are, it ain’t them,” Preacher said. “The last sign we saw, they were west of here.”
“Could’ve circled around.”
“Yeah.” Preacher waved a hand toward some trees along the riverbank. “Let’s get over there in the shadows under those trees. Come on, Dog.”
Quickly, the men and animals moved over into the concealment of the trees. Preacher listened intently, and after a moment he heard the drumming of hoofbeats.
“Riders comin’,” he whispered to Uncle Dan. “I reckon Dog smelled ’em before we could hear ’em.”
“Dogs is good about that,” the old-timer agreed. “I hear ’em now, too. Sounds like a pretty big bunch.”
Preacher thought the same thing. Enough riders were moving through the darkness that they could be the Pawnee warriors led by Standing Elk, as Uncle Dan had suggested. Something about that struck Preacher as wrong, though. He thought it was much more likely that the Pawnee would lie in ambush somewhere up ahead along the river, rather than circling around to attack the wagon train by night.
The riders came into view, a dark mass moving from left to right in front of Preacher and Uncle Dan. Dog growled again, as if his instincts wanted to send him charging forward. “Stay, Dog,” Preacher told him. “Steady.”
“Too dark to count ’em,” Uncle Dan said. “Got to be thirty or forty of the varmints, though.”
“And I’m bettin’ they’re white, not red,” Preacher said. “You know what I think is goin’ on here, Uncle Dan?”
“Nope, but I’m bettin’ you’re about to tell me.”
Preacher nodded toward the group of riders. “Those fellas are workin’ with Buckhalter. They’ve probably been followin’ the wagon train since it left St. Louis. As soon as everybody’s settled down for the night, they’re gonna jump the camp, kill those pilgrims, and loot the wagons.”
Uncle Dan let out a low whistle of astonishment. “And you think Buckhalter knows about this, you say?”
“I figure he’s the one who planned the whole thing. He knew the attack was scheduled for tonight, and that’s why he didn’t want us around. Didn’t want us stirrin’ up Donnelly and the others, either. He had ’em thinkin’ that everything’s peaceful and they ain’t in any danger, so they won’t be as watchful and can be took by surprise easier.”
“Well, we sort of fouled that up by ridin’ in with news of that Pawnee war party.”
Preacher nodded. “Yeah. But it’s probably too late to call off the attack, especially if there’s a chance the wagons might be ambushed in the next day or two by Indians. Buckhalter will want to get his hands on the loot before that can happen.”
Uncle Dan ran his fingers through his beard and then said, “You know, Preacher, we ain’t got a lick o’ proof that this idea of yours is right. Those fellas who just rode by might not have a damned thing to do with Buckhalter or that wagon train.”
“That’s true,” Preacher admitted, “but there’s one good way to find out.”
“Follow ’em?”
“Damn right,” Preacher said.
“You know there’s thirty or forty o’ them, plus Buckhalter and however many o’ them other guides are really workin’ for him, and only two of us.”
“We got somethin’ they don’t, though . . . the element of surprise.”
“Oh, yeah,” Uncle Dan muttered as he and Preacher rode out from under the trees and started after the men they suspected of being bandits and outlaws, “
