Absaroka Ambush (6 page)

Steals Pony had been gone for two days. Something had been troubling the Delaware and he had pulled out, heading toward the wagons backtrail. On the afternoon of the third day of his absence, he reappeared and swung down from the saddle. The wagons had completed their circle, cookfires were blazing and the coffee was ready when Steals Pony rode in.

Preacher took one look at the Delaware's worried face and asked, “What's wrong?”

“A large band of white men are following us. They carry supplies for a long journey and are well-armed. They are being careful to stay two days ride behind us. We are in trouble,” he ominously ended it. He poured a cup of hot, strong coffee and took a big gulp.

“Did you recognize any of the men?” Snake asked.

“Jack Hayes,” Steals Pony said, refilling his cup. “Tom Cushing. Rat Face. I could not recognize any of the others, but a tall, well-dressed man appears to be in command.”

Preacher waved Lieutenant Worthington over to the fire and told him what Steals Pony had just reported.

For the last several days, Rupert and his small troop had been very quiet and reflective. Preacher and the other mountain men knew what had happened. They'd seen it many times over the years. The vastness of the land had numbed Worthington and his men. This was what Preacher had tried to explain back in Missouri. But the plains could not be described. It was simply impossible to do that. They had to be seen and tasted personally. And for most, it was a very humbling experience. Their next humbling experience would be when they hit the Rockies.

“Is it possible, Preacher,” the young soldier said after a few seconds pause, “that these men are heading west on legitimate business?”

“I wouldn't think so, Rupert. I got me a hunch—'cause I run into this very same thing last year—that Jack and Rat Face was supposed to be the inside men. Oncest we got several weeks from the jump-off point, them others in the gang would ambush and take over the train. Hell, folks have been doin' this ever since men and women left the colonies and headed west. It ain't nothin' new.”

“But . . . but this is, well, dastardly! Well! We'll just alert the authorities and let them ...” He slowly trailed that idea off, suddenly remembering that there were no authorities out here. The nearest law was days to the east and almost two thousand miles to the west.

Preacher took a sip of coffee and smiled. “Now you're beginnin' to understand what we been tryin' to tell you, Rupert. There ain't no law 'ceptin' the pistols buckled around your waist and the rifle in your saddle boot. We'll find us a good ambush spot up ahead and you and your men will take the wagons on. Me and my friends will take care of Jack Hayes and his bunch of no-counts.”

“Ambush spot?” Lieutenant Worthington said.

“Yeah.”

“You'll lay in wait and . . . ambush those men coming up behind us?”

“Yeah. You got a better idea?”

“But . . . but . . . you can't do that!”

“Why not?” Snake demanded.

“Because those men haven't
done
anything. That's why.”

“But they're
gonna
do something!” Preacher said.

“You don't know that for sure.”

“I know Jack Hayes. He's a murderin', stealin', rapin', no-good, and has been that all his miserable life. And anyone who rides with him is just as bad.”

Rupert shook his head vigorously. “Sir, I have studied the law at a very fine university. I know something about the law. And what you are proposing just won't do. There is such a thing as due process. Every accused person is entitled, under the constitution, to a fair trial. You can't just
kill
somebody because you
think
they might be planning some evil deed.”

The mountain men exchanged glances. “Why not?” Blackjack asked. “We've all done it before.”

 

 

Lt. Rupert Worthington had supper with Eudora Hempstead, Cornelia, and Anne. He confessed to them his worry about Preacher and what he might do.

“I can't leave the train,” Rupert said. “None of us can. I mean the men in my command. We are under strict orders to stay with the train at all costs—even if it means my life and the lives of my men. Otherwise I would send a runner back to alert the Army at Fort Levenworth.” He sighed. “I am certainly impaled upon the horns of a dilemma.”

Eudora sopped out her plate with a hunk of bread. “I agree with Preacher,” she said. “Ambush the murdering scum.” She popped the bread into her mouth and chewed.

“Miss Hempstead!” Rupert said, horrified. “I cannot believe you said that.”

“Why not? I come from seafaring stock, Lieutenant. For over a hundred and fifty years my people have answered the siren's song of the sea. Ship's captains all. And they worked their way before the mast, from cabin boy to master. Do you know much about the sea, Lieutenant?”

Rupert shook his head no.

“Ships signal with flags. They talk with flags. They have flags for every conceivable occasion and threat. Ships that sail under no flag do so at considerable risk to themselves. Many a ship has been blown out of the water for refusing to show their colors. Or to strike them,” she added without a smile.

“This is not the sea, Miss Hempstead,” Rupert replied softly.

“Same as,” she told him. “It's a vast, ever changing, constantly windswept landlocked sea. Those men behind us are deliberately staying behind us—out of sight. Like pirates until they make their move to shoot and board. We can't let them get ahead of us, Rupert. Preacher can't take that chance. They'll ambush us at their leisure. I see Preacher's methodology.”

“What he is suggesting is murder, Miss Hempstead.”

“When there is no one in the woods when a tree falls, does it make a sound?” she asked with a smile.

“What? Oh. Yes. I see your analogy. There is no law out here.”

“Except for survival,” Eudora said gently.

Rupert thought about that for a moment. “It comes down to whose life is more important, theirs or ours.”

“I suppose it does,” Eudora said.

“You should have studied for the law, Miss Hempstead. It might have altered your views.”

“Women aren't allowed to do that, Lieutenant.” She smiled. “Yet.”

Across the wide inner circle formed by the wagons, the mountain men sat, drinking coffee and talking quietly. “I'd forgot how strange the laws is back in the States,” Ned said. “Plumb goofy, I say.”

“I sure hope that way of thinkin' never gets past Missouri,” Ring offered.

“It will,” Steals Pony said sourly. “And in our lifetime, too.”

“We been out here too long, boys,” Snake said, stretching out on his blankets with a contented sigh. “We should have gone back from time to time to polish our manners, I reckon. Most of our kind did, you know?”

“Most of our kind will be gone in a few more years,” Preacher said. “Quite a few has done hung up their buckskins and donned fancy pants and is makin' their way pretty good in California. Rubbin' elbows with the genteel and livin' in houses and workin' in stores and the like. No thank you.”

“What are we gonna do about all that trash followin' us, Preacher?” Blackjack asked.

“I don't know,” Preacher admitted. “Way Rupert acted to my suggestion, I reckon we're just gonna have to let them attack us 'fore we do anything.”

“That's foolish,” Charlie said.

“So is haulin' a hundred and fifty women 'crost the damn wilderness,” Preacher countered. “I reckon we all done won the grand prize for foolish. So I'll apologize now for gettin' you boys in this mess.”

“We came along because we wanted to, Preacher,” Steals Pony said. “Besides, what else did any of us have planned?”

“Yeah,” Blackjack said. He looked over at Preacher and smiled. “I knowed what you was doin' back yonder in my camp. I just played along with you. I think we all done earned the right to act foolish if we want to.”

“I personal think we're doin' the right thing,” Snake said. “Hell, I heped open up this country. It'll be fun to see it all again.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Cause I ain't gonna git another chance,” he added mysteriously.

“All this talk ain't givin' us no answers 'bout what to do with them followin' us,” Charlie said. “And I shore don't like the idee of waitin' for them to attack us. That purely cuts agin the grain far as I'm concerned.”

Preacher drained his coffee cup and tossed the dregs to one side. “Well, boys, I think I'm sorta in a jam. In one way I'm in charge of this fool's parade, but on the other hand, the army is in charge.”

“Now we are in trouble,” Blackjack grumbled.

Preacher smiled. “How old was you when you first come out to the wilderness, Blackjack?”

The big man grunted. “You do have a point. A lot younger than Rupert, that's for sure. Surely he ain't as dumb as he sounds 'bout half the time. You know, it sure seemed back then like we knew a lot more about livin' than he appears to.”

“We did,” Charlie agreed. “These young folks nowadays . . . I don't know about 'em. Seems like they ain't got no respect for their elders. You can't tell 'em a damn thing. They know it all. Country's goin' to hell in a handbasket, 'way I see it. Why, I heard from my sister back home two/three years ago, and she told me the kids are a-sparkin' each other at a mighty young age nowadays.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “It's pitiful. Morals has gone to hell.”

“You mighty right 'bout that,” Snake said.

Blackjack grinned. “I come out just 'fore you did, Preacher. Wasn't it grand?”

“It was, for a fact.” And that got the men off spinning tall tales far into the night. Why, it was at least 8:00 P.M. before they wound down and hit the blankets.

 

 

Preacher heard the first drops of rain begin falling just about midnight, he figured, and pulled his robe over him more snugly. The Delaware had said before the men retired that it was going to rain for two or three days. Up to this point there had been only a few brief showers that didn't last too long. Now the ladies were going to see a mighty soggy trail.

“Walk!” Faith said, standing in the downpour, hands on her shapely hips. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Probably,” Preacher told her. “I'm here, ain't I? But you still gonna walk.”

“Why?”

“'Cause I ain't gonna put no more strain on them mules and oxen than needs to be, that's why. Look at them ruts yonder, Missy. They're deep and gonna be a lot deeper 'fore the day's done. The ground's already soaked. Look at them clouds behind us. This is one of them storms that's comin' out of the east. And they're always bad. We're gonna have rain for about three days.”

“Who says so?”

“Steals Pony. That's who.”

“That's ridiculous! Nobody can predict the weather with any degree of accuracy.”

“The Delaware can.”

“Poppycock and balderdash!” She stamped her little booted foot and it sank about ankle deep.

“It's rainin' ain't it? You can't deny that. Just like he said it would.”

“We will all catch pneumonia and perish out here!”

“Naw. It's unnatural warm for this time of year. You'll just get wet, is all. You'll dry out.” He grinned. “Get a bar of soap and take a bath. I'll hold the canvas so's nobody can see you.”

“You are a vile and evil man, Preacher,” Faith flared at him. “Your thoughts alone will surely guarantee you a place in the Hellfires.”

Preacher laughed at her and that made her madder than ever. She flounced around and tossed her strawberry curls and jumped up and down in the mud and sank a little deeper. She sure was cute when she was all flustered up.

“Pass the word, Eudora,” Preacher called. “Everybody who's drivin' oxen will walk, and only the driver will stay on the box behind the mules. The rest of you—walk!”

“You are perfectly
horrid
man!”

“Walk, Missy, Walk!” He looked down at her feet, which were out of sight in the mud. “Providin' you can pull your boots out of that mess.”

In a downpour that reduced visibility to only a few hundred feet, the wagons rolled out, with the women slogging along beside them. Long before the nooning period, most of the women had removed their slickers and tossed them into the wagons; they were just too hot.

Preacher—as did the other mountain men—had him a hunch this unnaturally warm weather was only a fluke. It was not yet mid-April, and the weather could, and probably would, abruptly shift and turn very cold. Here on the plains, this warm rain could just as easily have been sleet slashing at them.

About an hour before the nooning, Preacher made up his mind. “Find us a place to hole up,” Preacher told Steals Pony, his mouth only a few inches from the Delaware's ear, because of the howling winds. “There ain't no point in goin' on through all this crap. They'll be a bad accident if we keep on like this.”

“Have already found one, Preacher,” Steals Pony said. “Just up ahead. Maybe a half an hour. No more than that.”

“Lead us to it.” Preacher rode over to Eudora's wagon. “Follow Steals Pony. We're gonna sit it out.”

She nodded and lifted the reins, hollering at her big mules, which were just as unhappy with the weather as the women.

The place Steals Pony had found was a thin stand of trees. The women circled the wagons and climbed under the canvas to change into dry clothing. Preacher rode around the wagons several times, seemingly oblivious to the raging elements. Something was wrong, but he couldn't put a finger on it.