He grunted. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“I know. You don’t strike me as the judgmental sort.”
Preacher didn’t say anything for a moment, then went on, “Anyway, I’m obliged to you for shootin’ Buckhalter. Reckon you probably saved my life.”
“For a second, I thought about letting him kill you,” Jessie said bluntly. “If he had, that wouldn’t have exposed what Cleve and I have been doing. We could have continued without your help.”
“Why didn’t you?”
For a long moment, Jessie didn’t answer. Then she said, “I don’t know. Instinct, maybe. I saw Beaumont and Buckhalter about to shoot you, and I didn’t even really think about what I was doing. I just lifted my gun and . . . pulled the trigger.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
“So am I,” Casey said. “I would have hated it if anything happened to Preacher. I’m glad you shot that man Buckhalter, Jessie.”
A little laugh came from Jessie. “I was aiming at Shad. I’m afraid I’m not a very good shot with a pistol.”
Preacher looked over at her, and then he laughed, too. Luck had been with him, all right, even more than he’d known.
By now dusk was settling down over the landscape west of St. Louis. Preacher directed Jessie toward the grove of trees where Uncle Dan was camped, while he kept an eye on their back trail for any signs of pursuit.
It was almost completely dark by the time they reached the place. When they had approached within earshot, Preacher motioned for Jessie to rein in, then lifted his voice and called, “Uncle Dan! It’s me, Preacher! You in there?”
“Come ahead, boy!” the old-timer replied. “I heard the buggy comin’, but didn’t know who ’twas!”
Uncle Dan stepped out of the trees as Jessie drove up to the grove. Dog followed him, a ghostly gray shape in the shadows. Uncle Dan had his rifle in his hands, ready to use it if he needed to.
Preacher hopped down from the buggy as Jessie brought it to a halt. He slapped Uncle Dan on the back and gave him a rough hug.
“The plan’s blowed all to hell,” Preacher said.
“I figured as much when I seen you had somebody with you.” Uncle Dan lifted his hat to Jessie and Casey. “Ladies. Your comp’ny is right welcome.”
“We’re hardly ladies,” Jessie said as she looped the buggy’s reins around the brake lever.
“The way I figure it, any woman is a lady until she proves otherwise,” Uncle Dan said, “and that starts from when I meet her. Anything that happened afore that don’t matter one little bit.”
“Well, aren’t you the gentleman.” Jessie smiled at him.
“Somebody’s gotta be, since this ornery young feller is rough as a cob most o’ the time,” Uncle Dan commented with a jerk of his thumb toward Preacher.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Casey chimed in. Both women climbed out of the buggy. “I think Jim is very nice. I mean, Preacher is very nice. It’s going to take me some time to get used to the fact that you’re not really Jim Donnelly, Preacher.”
“That’s fine,” Preacher assured her. “I don’t much care what folks call me—”
“As long as it ain’t late for dinner,” Uncle Dan interrupted and finished for him. “Speakin’ of which, I’ll rustle up some vittles. I got bacon to fry and a mess o’ biscuits I cooked up earlier today. Reckon I must’ve had a feelin’ somebody was comin’. These ol’ bones o’ mine are pretty good about that, you know.”
“Don’t you want to hear about what happened in town?” Preacher asked.
“Any hostiles directly on your trail?”
“Not that I know of.”
“It can wait, then,” Uncle Dan declared. “If there’s trouble, folks tend to think straighter when they got a full belly and some coffee to drink.”
As Uncle Dan led the women into the trees, Casey seemed to notice Dog for the first time. “Is that a wolf?” she asked worriedly as she shrank away from the big cur.
Preacher took the reins of the buggy horse to lead the animal into the woods. He laughed and said, “No, that’s just Dog. Hold out your hand and let him sniff it.”
“I’m not sure about that. He looks like he could bite it right off.”
“But he won’t,” Preacher assured her. “Dog, these are friends. Jessie and Casey. Friends.”
One by one, they let Dog sniff their hands. The big cur’s bushy tail began to swish back and forth.
“You’re safe from him now,” Preacher said. “He’ll never forget your scent. And he’ll die to protect you, if I tell him to.”
“I hope it won’t ever come to that,” Jessie said, “but with Shad bound to come after us . . .”
She didn’t have to finish that sentence. Preacher and the two women knew that even though they had made it safely out of St. Louis, they weren’t out of danger, by any means. In fact, you could say that even though they had reached the camp in the trees, they weren’t out of the woods, Preacher thought.
He unhitched the buggy horse and picketed it near Uncle Dan’s saddle mount and the pack horses. Meanwhile, the old-timer prepared supper over a small, almost invisible fire. When the food was ready, the four of them
