likely head back east as fast as their horses can carry ’em. The Pawnee will go back to their regular huntin’ grounds and lick their wounds until they get ready to go raidin’ again, with some young warriors to replace the ones you killed.”
“I’m sorry that so many people had to lose their lives tonight.”
“Better those varmints than you or the folks with you,” Uncle Dan said.
“We lost several men,” Donnelly said with sorrow in his voice. “They were killed during the fighting.”
Preacher nodded. “I saw a couple of them go down. They were good men, fightin’ right to the end.”
“We’ll give them proper burials, and leave markers for them.”
“I reckon that’s fine,” Preacher said. He didn’t mention the fact that in a few months, no one would be able to tell that any graves had been dug here. Chances were, the markers would be gone, too, claimed by the elements. They surely would be in a year or so, unless the words were carved in stone. And even if they were, the sun and the rain and the wind would wear those away in time, too. The memories folks had of a man were the only true legacy he left behind when he crossed the divide.
That was the way it had always been, the way it would always be. As the years passed, there would be hundreds, if not thousands, of forgotten graves on these westward trails, Preacher reflected. Few of those who came after would know or care about the people who had died carrying civilization across the prairie.
But the country would be changed forevermore, anyway. For good or bad . . . ?
Well, Preacher didn’t know about that part of it.
Chapter 9
More convinced than ever of the need to remain vigilant at all times, Donnelly doubled the usual number of guards for the rest of the night, but the hours passed peacefully and the sun rose the next morning without any more trouble having broken out.
Preacher and Uncle Dan were up more than an hour before sunrise, as usual, getting ready to ride as soon as it was light enough.
As they were having breakfast at the Donnelly wagon, Ned Donnelly asked them, “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could talk you men into coming to Oregon with us?”
Preacher shook his head. “I reckon not. We got business elsewhere.”
“It’s mighty temptin’, though,” Uncle Dan added. “That wife o’ yours is one hell of a cook, Ned.”
Donnelly laughed. “I know. She’s brave and beautiful, too. I’m a lucky man, gentlemen, and don’t think for a second that I don’t know it!”
Preacher rubbed his bearded jaw and frowned in thought. “You’re gonna need a wagon master and chief guide to replace Buckhalter. Let’s go talk to Stallworth. He strikes me as a good man.”
Preacher let Donnelly do the talking. Pete Stallworth listened for a few minutes, then said, “I’m flattered, Ned, but I’ve never been all the way to Oregon.”
“Buckhalter probably hadn’t been there, either,” Donnelly pointed out. “You can do a better job than he would have, Pete.”
“Yeah, but he never intended to take the wagons all the way across the Rockies.”
MacKenzie stood nearby. He spoke up, saying, “I’ve been through South Pass and on to the coast several times, Donnelly. I know the way . . . but I don’t want the job of wagon master.” The Scotsman gestured toward Stallworth. “Give that part of it to Pete, and I’ll be your chief guide. Sound fair enough to you?”
Donnelly turned back to Stallworth. “What do you say, Pete?”
Stallworth shrugged, but then his friendly grin broke out over his face. “I say it sounds like a good deal to me. We’ll need a few volunteers from the men with the train to serve as scouts and outriders, though. Three of us aren’t enough.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Donnelly agreed with a nod. He stuck out a hand. “It’s a deal, then?”
“Between us, we’ll get you folks to Oregon,” Stallworth replied as he gripped Donnelly’s hand.
Under the circumstances, Preacher thought that was the best arrangement the immigrants could have. He said as much to Donnelly a few minutes later as he and Uncle Dan were about to mount up.
“With a little luck along the way, you’ll make it just fine,” he said. “Keep your eyes open, listen to Stallworth and MacKenzie, and don’t forget why you’re doin’ this in the first place.”
Preacher nodded toward Lorraine Donnelly and the two little boys, who were packing some of the family’s gear in the wagon nearby.
“I know,” Donnelly said. “Thank you for everything, Preacher. If not for you and Uncle Dan, those robbers would have taken us completely by surprise. They probably would have wiped us out.”
Preacher nodded. “More’n likely.”
“We’ll have the wagons rolling as soon as we’ve taken care of the burying,” Donnelly went on. “I don’t know what to do about those other men who were killed. The robbers and the Indians, I mean. I suppose we could dig a mass grave . . .”
“Leave ’em where they fell, and I reckon the scavengers will take care of that problem for you.”
Donnelly shook his head. “It doesn’t seem right to just leave them.”
“They wouldn’t have wasted any sympathy on you folks. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about the Pawnee dead. The ones who lived took all the bodies with them. I can tell you that without even lookin’. They’ll be laid to rest the Pawnee way, the way they would have wanted.”
