The First Mountain Man (32 page)

“Nope,” Preacher said, standing up. “You home, pilgrim.”

2

The pioneers, many of them ragged and gaunt, stood on the plateau and gazed in disbelief at the lush and green valley that lay before their eyes. Many of them wept, still others dropped to their knees and prayed, giving thanks to God for getting them safely through the wilderness. Only a few of them included the mountain men in those prayers ... at first. Then, as they realized they never would have made it without the help of Preacher and his friends, they all formed a huge circle and linked hands, offering quiet prayers for Preacher, Dupre, Nighthawk, Trapper Jim, and Beartooth.

“We ought to be fairly blessed, I reckon,” Beartooth said to his friends, standing away from the circle of pioneers.

“That's good,” Jim said, “for I 'spect that we're gonna need all the help we can get when Gabriel sounds the call.”

Swift decided at that moment it was a good time to rally the movers and get them down from the plateau. He gave a mighty blast on his bugle and like to have scared the mountain men out of their britches.

“That does it,” Dupre said, when he had settled his badly jangled nerves. “I'm a-gonna snatch that bugle away from him and stomp it so flat not even an angel could toot it.”

Laughing, Preacher calmed his friend then turned to Jim. “Jim, ride yonder to the river and get one of them Injuns that's always hangin' around to canoe you 'crost and tell the chief factor we got a whole passel of pilgrims waitin' on this side. You might as well spend the night and ride back in the mornin'.”

“See you boys then,” Jim said with a grin. “I'll be thinkin' 'bout you when I belly up to the bar.”

“Don't you drink up all the whiskey now, you hear me,” Dupre warned him.

Jim waved and rode off toward the river.

“Are we reasonably safe from Indian attack here?” a mover asked Preacher.

“No,” the reply was flat and fast given. “But you are safer here than at any other time behind you. If some of you are thinkin' 'bout stayin' on this side of the river and farmin', best thing you can do is build your cabins close together for protection.”

“We are thinking that, Preacher. It's so beautiful.” He stuck out his hand and Preacher shook it. “Thank you, sir.” He looked at the others. “Thank you all.”

“I reckon,” Dupre said, after the man had left them, “that we could take a few days time to see that these pilgrims know how to notch logs and the like.”

“That would be the Christian thing to do, all right,” Beartooth said.

“I think you're all plumb loco,” Preacher said.

Nighthawk looked at him. “Ummm!”

* * *

That night the skies opened up and it started raining.

“Never fails out here,” Preacher said. “Wettest damn place I ever been in all my en-tar life. I'd sooner build me a cabin under a waterfall.”

“I long for the Rockies,” Dupre said. “You figure on win-terin' where, Preacher?”

“I ain't give it no thought. Damn shore ain't gonna be near here, I can tell you true on that.”

“You might oughta wrap your robe around that blonde-haired filly and snuggle up clost to her when the snow flies,” Beartooth suggested. “She'd keep a man warm, I'm thinkin'.”

“Bes' thing for you to do is close that fly-trap of yourn,” Preacher told him.

“I be's hongry around my mouth,” Beartooth wisely took the suggestion to heart. “I'd like to have me a bear steak right about now, just a-fairly drippin' with fat.”

“Dream on,” Dupre said. “That mover's woman over yonder said she was a-cookin' up mush and we's welcome to eat with them.”

“I hate mush.”
²

“It ain't bad if she'll let it harden some and then fry it in fat. Get it crispy and it's right tasty,” Preacher said. “My momma use to fix it thataway for breakfast. But I ain't no friend to gruel.” He took a sip of coffee. “Was you boys serious 'bout stayin' around for a time and lendin' a hand so's these poor helpless children can get set up for winter?”

“Why not?” Dupre said. “You got anywheres else you got to be in a hurry?”

“Can't say as I have.”

“Then it's settled,” Nighthawk said.

“Oh, all right,” Preacher had to grouse about it a little. “If I didn't I'd never hear the last of it. Y'all'd rag me about it forever. Personal, I think you all got you eyes on some mover's woman. That's what I think. Come the spring y'all probably still be here, scratching in the ground and plantin' taters and the like.”

They were still bitching, telling the most outrageous of lies and insulting one another when the last lantern in the wagon train was turned down.

Melody and Penelope and Richard and Edmond arranged for passage across the Columbia and Preacher was out hunting when they left—deliberately gone. About half the wagon train elected to cross the river to settle on the north side, the remainder choosing to remain on the south side. Despite his grumblings and sour attitude—which by now everybody knew was all an act and not the real Preacher—the mountain man really liked the pilgrims and in a way, felt responsible for them. It was a strange feeling for the normally solitary man. So the time went by quickly in the building of corrals and stables, stockades and the homes that would stand inside them. One day Preacher looked up and found that he and the others had been in the valley almost three weeks.

“Time do fly when a body's a-havin' fun, don't it, Preacher?” Dupre said with a grin.

Preacher nodded, his eyes on Beartooth who was returning from the fort, and pushing his mount hard. Dupre followed Preacher's eyes and said, “Somethin's wrong, Preach.”

“I gleaned that right off. Where's Jim and Hawk?”

“Out huntin' supper.”

“It better not be fish. I'm gettin' mighty tired of fish.”

“I didn't say they was spearin' it. I said they was huntin' it. Must be time for us to leave, you're gettin' crotchety and hard of hearin', too.”

“I ain't neither.”

“Is too.”

Beartooth swung down. “Ol' John Billingly was at the fort, provisionin' up for the winter. He just come in from the East. Says Red Hand and his bunch was ridin' hard back to their own territory, but without Bum Kelley and his bunch. And they was two raggedy lookin' hardcases just a-hangin' around the fort. They pulled out quick when they spied me eyeballin' 'em.”

“Have some coffee and tell us the rest of it,” Preacher told him.

“How'd you know they's more?”

“'Cause you wouldn't have been forcin' that poor animal of yourn to tote you so fast if there weren't. I swear if you get any fatter, we gonna have to buy an elephant from some circus for you to ride.”

“You're an unkind man, Preacher,” Beartooth said, pouring a cup full of brew that looked strong enough to melt a horseshoe, and probably was.

“What I am is truthful. What else is they?”

“That church that your sweetie is livin' at is located a good four mile from the fort. Plumb isolated, it is. Chief factor told me it was done deliberate so's the Injuns would come to it better.”

“And Richard told me they would keep the gold at the church headquarters,” Preacher said. “Do they have any fightin' men out at the church?”

“Nope. Couple of tame old Chinooks is all. They sweep and dust and the like, the factor said.”

“I don't like it,” Dupre said. “I don't like it at all.”

“Neither do I,” Preacher agreed. “I think what we'll do is this...”

* * *

It was an emotional farewell from those settlers who had stayed south of the river. The women and the kids squalled and the men stood brave and fought back tears. Preacher cut it short, waved farewell, and the mountain men turned their horses and rode away. The settlers watched them until they were out of sight and then with a sigh, turned and once more began preparing their cabins for the winter that was not far off.

Preacher and his friends rode east for a day, camped, and then come the morning, headed north, just in case Bum had men watching them.

“You know where they's a good crossin' on the Columbia, Hawk?” Preacher asked.

“No. But I know where we can cross ... if the water's low and we're lucky.”

Days later they were still looking for Bum and his gang.

The chief factor at the fort had been warned by Dupre about the large amount of gold carried by the missionaries, and the danger of an attack on the church by the Kelley gang. The factor had listened, and then informed the Frenchman that while he would do what he could to insure the safety of the missionaries, those who choose to settle far away from the fort were really not his concern.

His words sounded a lot colder than they really were. The factor just didn't have the manpower to look after everybody. No one had asked the missionaries to come out—they did that on their own. His primary concern was to protect the goods of the company who employed him.

The mountain men ran into a hunting party of friendly Cayuses and stopped to palaver with them.

“Southwest of the Lewis,” the leader told them. “Just on the edge of the big timber. Many whites are camped. They are not friendly and we did not attempt to camp near them. They are not trappers. I don't know what they are ... I think perhaps they are thieves. I do not trust them.”

Preacher thanked him and they rode on.

“Five open hands of men,” Nighthawk said. “That's a goodly number, but somewhat less than we faced a month ago.”

“A lot of his followers have left him,” Preacher said. “Maybe we'll get lucky and put an end to Bum Kelley.”

Beartooth wasn't so sure about that. “That no-count's been around a long time, Preach. A lot of men has tried to put him in the ground.”

“I'd settle for Jack Harris,” Dupre said. “He's been givin' trappers and guides and the like a bad name for years.”

“I'm greedy,” Preacher replied. “I want 'em all.”

* * *

Nighthawk touched the white ashes and smiled. “We're no more than half a day behind them.”

“Twenty-five to thirty men,” Preacher said, after walking around and carefully inspecting the campgrounds. “And a nasty bunch they is, too.”

“No bloody bandages layin' around,” Dupre said. “Looks like they're all in pretty good shape.”

“They're headin' for the fort,” Jim told them. “That sign's as clear as leaves on a tree.”

“I know a shorter way,” Beartooth said. “We can be there a couple of hours 'fore them.”

Preacher swung into the saddle. “Let's ride.”

* * *

“He didn't even say goodbye,” Melody said, gazing out a window of the mission.

The afternoon was clear and bright and cool, with not a single cloud in the sky, a welcome relief from the rain that usually fell. Frost had colored the land that morning, laying a heavy mantle of white that was gone as soon as the sun touched it. Winter was not far away.

“Oh, Melody,” Penelope said. “Why can't you see that he's entirely the wrong man for you? Yes, he's handsome and dashing and daring and all of that. But he's wild, Melody. He's like the wind. He doesn't belong in a house. He'd feel confined, like a chained animal. It wouldn't be fair to ask him to change his ways. He belongs to the mountains and the wild, high country.”

Melody turned from the window. She smiled sadly. “I know all that, Penelope.” Suddenly, she giggled. “Can you just imagine the looks on Mum's face if I should suddenly show up back East with Preacher in tow?”

The two young women burst out laughing at just the thought.

“Or better yet,” Penelope said, “with all
five
of them!”

Richard and Edmond walked into the sitting room, curious to see what all the giggling was about.

“What in the world ... ?” Edmond inquired.

“Girl talk,” Melody told the young men. “You wouldn't understand.”

Richard walked to the window that Melody had just left and stared out, silent for a moment. He turned to face the group. “It's odd that Preacher didn't stop to say goodbye. Swift told me they left very abruptly.”

“What are you saying?” Penelope asked, walking across the room to stand by his side.

“I'm ... not sure. But I became friends with Preacher toward the last. And I am sure that something is not right about their leaving. I just have a feeling that their sudden departure might be a ruse of some sort.”

“A deception?” Edmond asked. “No. I don't believe that. What would be the reason?”

Richard spread his hands. “I don't know. It's just a feeling I have. I'm probably wrong.”

“I'm sure you are,” Edmond said smugly. “We shall never see those men again.”

“That outlaw and the gold we have hidden here at the church,” Melody said.

“What about it?” Edmond asked.

“Preacher may have received word that the gang had not given up and were coming this way. He and his friends may have gone to attack them, or head them off, or something like that.”

“Pure romantic balderdash!” Edmond said with a laugh. “Melody, you became mildly infatuated with the man and had a mental fling. Put him out of your mind and settle both feet back on the ground. You'll not see that will-o'-the-wisp again.” With a knowing and not a terribly kind laugh, he left the room.

Richard stared hard at Edmond's back. “Sometimes,” the missionary said, “I believe that man is not far from being a fool!”