CHAPTER 19
It took a lot to surprise Preacher, but having this big fella appear seemingly out of nowhere, then walk up and greet him like that almost did the job. The reaction lasted only a heartbeat, though, before Preacher recognized him.
The mountain man stuck out his hand and exclaimed, “Jamie Ian MacCallister! Never expected to run into you out here.”
“I don’t see why not,” Jamie said with a grin as he clasped Preacher’s hand in what would have been a bone-crushing grip for most men. The two of them were pretty evenly matched when it came to strength, though. “We sort of travel in the same circles.”
Preacher chuckled and said, “Yeah, I reckon that’s true.”
The Crow warriors still had their bows drawn back. Their faces made it clear that they would like nothing better than to fill Jamie full of arrows.
Preacher went on, “These fellas are honin’ after turning you into a pincushion, Jamie. Walkin’ up here like this probably ain’t the smartest thing you ever done.”
“I figured if they’re your friends, they’ll likely listen to reason.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Preacher’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the Sharps Jamie held, then at Swift Water. “You’re the one who winged my friend there.”
“I’m afraid so.”
At least some of the Crow spoke enough English to understand that. They drew back on their bows even more, and the rest followed suit.
“But you’re the one who shot that young dragoon who’s with me,” continued Jamie, “so I reckon we’re sort of square on that score.” He looked at Swift Water. “How bad is that fella’s wound?”
“From what I’ve seen, I reckon he’ll probably be all right.” Preacher paused, then asked, “How about the soldier?”
“Just a graze on his arm. He’ll be fine.”
Preacher nodded curtly and said, “That’s good to know.”
“So how about we call a truce?” Jamie suggested. “Nobody’s been killed so far, and I’m hankering to keep it that way.”
“How many more soldiers are in the bunch those came from?”
“A whole troop, and two supply wagons,” Jamie said. “They’re probably less than a mile away by now. They may have heard some of those shots earlier, so there’s a chance a patrol could show up anytime.”
“That’s about what I figured,” said Preacher as he nodded slowly. He turned to the warriors and went on in Crow, “It would be a good idea for you fellas to put down those bows. There are a lot of white soldiers not far away, and they all have rifles.”
“We can fight them!” one of the men said.
“And you can all die.” Preacher’s tone was grim. “But right now, this is all just a big misunderstandin’. And it was the soldiers who opened fire on us, not the other way around. If we explain that to their commandin’ officer—”
Preacher saw the face Jamie made at that. Switching back to English, he said, “You savvy enough Crow to know what I was tellin’ them?”
“Yeah. And that commanding officer you were talking about . . . well, he’s not the most understanding sort in the world. However, I reckon I can make him see what actually happened here, and maybe he won’t lose his head. His orders are to go to the village of Chief Broken Pine—”
“I am Broken Pine.” The declaration came from Preacher’s old friend in English.
Jamie looked a little surprised, but he nodded and said, “It’s good to meet you, Chief. I wasn’t expecting to run into you this far away from your village.”
“The huntin’s been bad in these parts,” Preacher explained. “We were after those buffalo.” He added with a touch of wry humor in his voice, “And those critters must’ve heard the shootin’ and smelled the powdersmoke, because they’ve all done run off.”
Broken Pine said to Jamie, “You and those soldiers are on your way to my village?”
“That’s right,” Jamie replied.
“Why do you go there?”
“Well . . . I don’t know if that’s for me to say. My government . . . the leaders of my people . . . they have business with you, Broken Pine. They want to talk to you.”
“About a treaty?” Preacher guessed.
“That’s about the size of it,” Jamie admitted.
Broken Pine looked at Preacher and asked, “What is this . . . treaty?”
“An agreement,” the mountain man explained. “A promise that folks make to each other not to fight.”
“The Crow do not wish to fight with anyone. Except the Blackfeet, of course.”
Preacher had to chuckle at that. He understood the sentiment completely, having been at war with the Blackfeet for many years himself.
While Preacher, Jamie, and Broken Pine were talking, the other Crow warriors had relaxed slightly. The continuing rifle fire from the soldiers kept the tension from going away entirely, though. Preacher said, “You reckon you can do anything about those varmints who keep shootin’ at us, Jamie?”
“I can sure try.” Jamie looked at Broken Pine. “That is, if the fight’s really over for now.”
Broken Pine nodded and said in Crow to the others, “Put away your arrows. We will talk instead of fight.”
Several of the warriors didn’t look happy about that, but Broken Pine was chief and they obeyed his order. Jamie took off his hat, put it on the end of the Sharps’ barrel, and moved just below the top of the rise. He raised the hat on the rifle enough that the soldiers couldn’t help but see it, then waved it back and forth to make sure he had their attention.
Then he shouted, “Hold your fire! Sergeant O’Connor! Corporal Mackey! Hold your fire! The fight’s over!”
The shots had stopped already when Jamie raised his hat. They didn’t resume. After a minute or so, Jamie called to the soldiers, “I’m going to stand up now. Don’t shoot!”
He got to his feet, took the hat off the rifle barrel, and put it on again. Then he waved his hand to reassure them that everything was all right and turned back to say, “Why don’t you come with me, Preacher, and we’ll go talk to them?”
“I reckon I can do that,” Preacher said. He told Hawk, “Stay here.”
“You trust this white man, Preacher?” asked Hawk.
“I sure do. We’ve known each other a long time. Jamie, this is my son, Hawk That Soars. Hawk, meet Jamie Ian MacCallister. You’ve heard me talk about him before.”
“Yes,” said Hawk. “Yes, I have.” He still didn’t seem too friendly, though, and he didn’t acknowledge the introduction other than giving Jamie a curt nod.
“Your son, eh?” Jamie said as he and Preacher walked down the rise and started across the prairie.
“That’s right. I’ve probably got more kids than that scattered around the frontier,” Preacher admitted, “but Hawk’s one that I know about for sure. You and Kate have young’uns, Jamie?”
“A whole passel of ’em,” Jamie replied with a definite note of pride in his voice.
“And Kate’s doing well?”
“Still as beautiful and feisty as ever.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Preacher said. “You two always seemed like a mighty good couple, right from the first time I met you down yonder in what they call Indian Territory now.”
They walked on for a few moments in silence, then Jamie said, “I’m sure sorry about shooting that fella.”
“Swift Water,” Preacher supplied the name.
“Swift Water. I hope he’s going to be all right. When it happened, I didn’t know who those warriors were, only that they were coming after us.”
“Because you started shootin’ at them.”
Jamie shook his head and said, “Not me. That was a fella named O’Connor. Sergeant Liam O’Connor.”
“From the sound of your voice, you ain’t over fond of this varmint,” Preacher commented.
“Not by a long shot,” Jamie said. “But I’d appreciate it, just on general principles, if you didn’t kill him.”
“I’m ain’t promisin’ nothin’,” Preacher said.
The soldiers stood up in the buffalo wallows as Preacher and Jamie came closer. Jamie led the way toward one of the circular depressions where a trooper was on his feet and another sat up on the ground. The soldier who was standing held a rifle, but it was pointed downward.
“This is Corporal Mackey,” Jamie introduced the stocky soldier. “Fella sitting there with the wounded arm is Private Jenkins. Boys, this is an old friend of mine who goes by the name of Preacher.”
The mountain man nodded and said, “Good to meet you, Corporal.” To Jenkins, he went on, “Son, I’m the one who put that graze on your arm. I’d say I’m sorry for doin’ that, but it looked like you and the rest of your bunch were tryin’ to hurt some friends of mine, so it seemed like the thing to do at the time. I’m glad I didn’t kill you, though.”
“I . . . I’m glad you didn’t, too,” Private Jenkins said, clearly nervous.
One of the men from the other buffalo wallow came out of it and stalked toward Preacher and Jamie, holding his rifle as if he were ready to raise it and fire at any moment. His face was flushed, his jaw thrust out defiantly.
“I reckon that must be Sergeant O’Connor,” Preacher said. “I don’t even need to see the stripes on his sleeve to know that.”
“That’s him,” Jamie confirmed. “He’s itching for a fight. He always is.”
As O’Connor came closer, he yelled, “Hold it right there, mister!”
“If you’re talking to me, I don’t appear to be goin’ anywhere,” drawled Preacher.
O’Connor’s face reddened even more as he said, “You’re under arrest!”
“What the hell for?”
“Attempted murder of a United States Army dragoon and aidin’ those red savages!” O’Connor snapped the rifle to his shoulder and aimed at Preacher. “Drop those guns or I’ll blow a hole through you!”
Preacher’s right hand itched to claw out the revolver on his hip and commence to work with it. He restrained himself only with an effort.
Jamie must have felt the same way. He said, “O’Connor, you pull that trigger and you’ll be dead half a second later. I’ll put a bullet through your brain myself. There are plenty of witnesses here to testify that Preacher’s not doing anything threatening.”
“Preacher?” blustered O’Connor. “What preacher?”
“That’s what they call me,” the mountain man said. “I ain’t a real sky-pilot, though, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” Preacher shook his head. “And I don’t cotton to bein’ put under arrest, so I don’t reckon I will be.”
Coolly, he turned his back on O’Connor and spoke to Private Jenkins again.
“Like I was sayin’, son, I’m glad you’re gonna be all right. Hope you’ll forgive me for nearly ventilatin’ you permanent-like.”
Big-eyed, Jenkins gulped and said, “That . . . that’s all right, sir. I know it was just . . . uh . . . a misunderstanding, like you said.”
“You see, Sergeant,” Jamie said, “there’s no hard feelings on Private Jenkins’ part. And since the Crow have forgiven me for wounding one of their warriors, it seems to me like we can just call the whole thing square.”
Preacher wasn’t sure the Crow had exactly forgiven Jamie for shooting Swift Water—not all of them, anyway—but he wanted this situation settled down and so did Jamie. For one thing, the rest of the troop would be here soon, and Broken Pine and the other warriors wouldn’t stand much of a chance against them.
Sergeant O’Connor continued glaring over the barrel of his rifle for several more seconds, but finally he lowered the weapon, with obvious reluctance, and said, “Somebody better tell me what the hell’s goin’ on here. Who are you, mister, and what are you doin’ with a bunch of red heathens?”
“They’re my friends,” Preacher said, “and they ain’t heathens. They’re Crow. A fine, spiritual bunch of folks.”
“And the Indians we’re looking for,” said Jamie. “In fact, their chief Broken Pine is in that bunch, and he’s the one we were sent specifically to find.”
O’Connor looked a little confused as he said, “I thought that village was supposed to be up in the foothills.”
“It is. Preacher, Broken Pine, and the others are out here on the plains hunting . . . just like us.”
Corporal Mackey said, “Somebody’s coming!”
They all turned to look. Half a dozen men on horseback galloped toward them. All wore the white trousers, blue tunics, and black caps of army dragoons. One of the riders pulled out in front of the others.
“That’s Lieutenant Tyler,” Jamie said. “I reckon they heard the shots, and Lieutenant Davidson sent him and a patrol to check them out, just like I expected.”
The young officer leading the patrol brought his mount to a skidding, dust-raising stop and quickly dismounted. He looked around, frowning at the sight of the buckskin-clad stranger, and demanded, “Sergeant O’Connor, what’s going on here?”
“We had a run-in with some damned savages—” O’Connor began.
“Not exactly,” Jamie interrupted him. He waved a hand toward the rise, where Hawk, Broken Pine, and the other warriors were visible, standing with their bows in hand, ready for trouble if it broke out again. “The Indians are members of a Crow hunting party from Broken Pine’s village. Broken Pine himself is with them, Lieutenant. In other words . . . we found who we’re looking for.”
“They attacked us,” O’Connor insisted with a surly look on his face.
Preacher said, “You fired the first shot, mister. Don’t reckon any of the rest of it would’ve happened if you hadn’t done that.”
O’Connor snarled and started to move toward Preacher. The officer, who Jamie had said was Lieutenant Tyler, lifted a hand to stop him and said sharply, “That’ll be enough, Sergeant. It appears there’s some sort of truce going on here, and I don’t see any reason to break it.”
Jamie said, “Lieutenant, this is an old friend of mine. Folks call him Preacher. He’s part of the Crow hunting party. Preacher, this is Lieutenant Hayden Tyler.”
Preacher’s eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “Is this the lieutenant fella you were tellin’ me about?”
“No, that’s Lieutenant Edgar Davidson. He’s the commanding officer of this little expedition.”
“In that case . . .” Preacher extended his hand to Tyler. “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”
Tyler coughed a little and shook Preacher’s hand.
“How do you do, Mister . . . Preacher, was it?”
“Just Preacher. No mister. That’s for fellas who ain’t spent their whole lives out here on the frontier.”
“I see that Private Jenkins appears to be wounded,” Tyler said to Jamie. “Is it serious?”
“Probably hurts like blazes, but he’ll be all right.”
“That’s right, Lieutenant,” Jenkins put in. “It hurts like blazes.”
“Any other casualties?” asked Tyler.
Jamie shook his head and said, “One of the Crow was wounded, too. We’re hoping it’s not too bad.”
“I hope so, too.” Tyler glanced back in the direction he and the dragoons had come from. “The wagons and the rest of the troop will be here soon. I suppose I should go meet this Chief Broken Pine, so I can introduce him to Lieutenant Davidson when they get here.”
“Come on with me,” Preacher said. “You can leave your horse here. And it’d be better if just you and Jamie came with me to meet Broken Pine. Too many soldiers with rifles marchin’ at ’em might spook those fellas, and if that happened we’d have trouble all over again!”