Preacher might have argued with her, but he wasn’t looking to get married, either. He was too fiddle-footed for that, nowhere near ready to settle down. And he wouldn’t try to drag a wife around in the sort of nomadic existence he led. That wouldn’t be fair to any woman.
“I wouldn’t mind sitting here with you for a little while, though, if that would be all right,” Casey went on.
“That’d be just fine,” Preacher said, and a smile touched his lips as Casey leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder.
By the time Preacher roused Jessie and Uncle Dan from their slumber, Casey had built up the fire and gotten the coffee on to boil. Jessie looked at her in surprise and said, “I didn’t know you were so . . . domestic.”
“Just a farm girl at heart, remember?” Casey said lightly.
They had breakfast and then packed up all their gear. Preacher went into the bushes, peeled out of the town clothes, and put on his buckskins. He felt almost like himself for the first time in weeks as he emerged from the brush and settled his hat with its wide, floppy brim on his head. If his beard was longer, everything would be back to normal again.
Or as normal as it could be . . . while Shad Beaumont was still alive.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jessie said as they got ready to leave the camp. “What happened to Cleve?”
“My guess is that he heard what happened at your place yesterday and is lyin’ low,” Preacher said. “Beaumont don’t know that Cleve had any part in the plans against him, and as long as Cleve keeps his mouth shut, it can stay that way. Cleve struck me as a pretty smart fella.”
“He is,” Jessie agreed.
“Then he’ll know to keep quiet. He can plunk himself down at a table in Dupree’s and play poker until this whole business is over.”
“I hope you’re right. I’d hate for something to happen to him because he tried to help me.”
A short time later, they were ready to go. Uncle Dan and the women would take the pack horse with them. Preacher planned to travel as light as possible once he started leading Beaumont on a merry chase across the prairie.
Jessie and Casey both hugged him tightly. “When it’s over, you’ll come find us?” Casey asked.
“I sure will,” Preacher promised her.
“And maybe you’ll spend some time with us in town before you go back to the mountains?” Jessie suggested.
That could prove interesting in more ways than one, Preacher thought, but he just nodded and said, “Sure.”
He shook hands with Uncle Dan, who groused, “I still think I oughta be goin’ with you, Preacher.”
“You’ve got a more important job—keepin’ these ladies safe.”
“I know it, I know it. I just hate to see you havin’ all the fun, that’s all.”
“You sure you know how to find that Mandan village?”
“Yep. Don’t worry.”
Preacher embraced the old-timer roughly and slapped him on the back. “So long, Uncle Dan.”
“So long, Preacher.”
He rode with them until they were within sight of the Missouri River. Then he reined Horse to a halt and sat there watching with Dog alongside him as Uncle Dan and the two women in the buggy headed northwest. Any direction that was away from St. Louis represented safety, Preacher thought. He lifted a hand and waved farewell, even though none of them were looking back.
Then he turned Horse and headed toward civilization.
Bloody, damned civilization.
Chapter 29
He had only gone about half a mile when he heard popping sounds in the distance. Preacher’s keen ears instantly recognized the sounds as gunshots.
And they were coming from the direction Uncle Dan and the two women had gone a short time earlier.
Preacher hauled back on the reins and turned around in the saddle to gaze off toward the Missouri River. Beside him, Dog stared in that direction as well, ears pricked forward. A low, throaty growl came from the dog.
Fear made Preacher’s heart slug heavily in his chest. Not fear for himself. The life of peril and adventure he led had long since pushed him past the point that he worried much about his own fate. He knew that in all likelihood, one of these days he would die with a gun or a knife in his hand, battling against some son of a bitch who needed killing—and he could live with that knowledge.
He had never learned how not to worry about the people he cared for, though, and right now, Uncle Dan, Jessie, and Casey were at the top of that list.
The shooting continued for almost a minute, then an ominous silence took its place. Preacher wheeled Horse around and dug his heels into the stallion’s flanks.
“Trail, Horse!” he called. “Come on, Dog!”
Horse leaped ahead into a gallop. Dog bounded along, keeping up as best he could.
