CHAPTER 10
The boom of the exploding powder and the hum of the heavy lead ball past Preacher’s ear came at the same time. He covered the rest of the distance down to the cargo deck in a single bound, and as he landed he whipped one of his pistols from behind his belt and aimed up at the passenger deck, where the gunman lurked.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have a target to aim at. The man had never been anything except a deeper patch of darkness, and now even that was gone.
“Dog!” Preacher snapped. “Find!”
Dog leaped into action. He went up the stairs in a blur. Preacher knew there was a good chance the big cur would sniff out the man who had just tried to kill him.
Only if he got a chance to do so, however, and that seemed more unlikely by the second. Doors flew open, and running footsteps slapped the polished planks of the passenger deck. People were moving down here on the cargo deck, too, as members of the crew emerged from their cabins to see what the gunshot had been about. The confusion of scents would just make it more difficult for Dog to do his work.
With the flintlock pistol still in his hand and his thumb curled around the hammer, Preacher climbed quickly to the passenger deck. Senator Allingham hurried toward him. The politician’s nightshirt flapped around his calves.
“Preacher!” Allingham said. “What happened? Was that a shot I heard?”
“Yeah, it was,” the mountain man said.
Before he could explain, Russell and Warner showed up, too. The captain was still fully dressed. Russell had taken off his coat and shirt but still wore his trousers and long underwear. They were full of questions, too, and Preacher figured he might as well answer all of them at once.
“Somebody took a shot at me from here while I was goin’ down to the cargo deck,” he said.
“Are you hit?” Russell asked.
“Nope. The ball came pretty close, but not close enough.”
“Did you see who it was?” Warner wanted to know.
Preacher pointed to the shadows where the gunman had waited for him and said, “No, it was too dark where he was. He got away in a hurry, too. Bound to have ducked into somebody’s cabin.”
Dog was scratching at one of the doors and growling. Preacher nodded at the big wolflike animal and went on, “That one, more than likely, judgin’ by the way Dog’s actin’.”
“That’s not a cabin door,” Warner said.
Now that the captain had pointed it out, Preacher could tell that the door was narrower than the entrances to the passenger cabins.
Warner continued, “If you’ll call your dog off, I’ll show you.”
“C’mere, Dog,” Preacher said. The cur returned and sat down next to him, still growling quietly.
Warner opened the door. A lamp turned low burned inside and revealed a narrow corridor instead of a cabin. It ran straight across the riverboat and ended at an identical door that was bound to open on the other side of the deck.
“The crew uses this corridor to cut through from one side of the boat to the other,” Warner explained. “Sometimes the passengers do, too, but most of them don’t realize it’s here. You can see that there’s a door into the kitchen from here, too. We use it to bring in supplies without having to carry them through the salon.”
“So all the fella had to do was run through here and then he could get anywhere in the boat pretty fast,” Preacher said.
“That’s right.”
“Dog’s got his scent, though,” the mountain man pointed out. “Maybe he can track the varmint.”
“It’s worth a try,” Russell said.
Before they could go on, Count Stahlmaske came up and said, “I demand to know what this disturbance is. I was trying to sleep.”
Anybody else would have just asked a question, thought Preacher. Stahlmaske had to make a demand.
“Someone tried to kill Preacher,” Allingham said.
The count looked at Preacher and said, “He appears to be unharmed.”
“Yeah, no thanks to the fella who tried to blow my brains out,” Preacher said. “You say you were in your cabin tryin’ to sleep just now, Count?”
Stahlmaske drew himself up straighter and asked in a chilly voice, “What are you trying to imply?”
“I don’t reckon I’m smart enough to imply anything. I just want to know where you were.”
“In my cabin, as I said!”
“How about your brother and your uncle?”
“I assume they were in the cabin they’re sharing as well. You can go ask them if you wish.”
“Maybe I’ll do that,” Preacher said. “First, though . . . Dog, trail!”
Dog ran along the corridor through the middle of the boat, his nose to the floor. Preacher followed with the other men behind him and opened the door at the far end of the passage. Dog ran out onto the other side of the deck and stopped. He turned around a few times and then whined.
“Has he lost the scent?” Russell asked.
“Looks like it. Reckon too many folks have been up and down this deck today. Could be the fella who shot at me took his boots off, too. That’d help kill his scent.”
“I guess the next question you have to ask yourself,” Allingham said, “is who would want to shoot you?”
“I’ve already been thinkin’ about that,” Preacher said. He turned to the count and asked, “Where would I find that fella Gunther?”
“You believe Gunther shot at you?” Stahlmaske asked. “Bah! That is a ridiculous idea. Gunther is no marksman, I assure you. He is a brute, nothing but muscle.”
“I’d still like to ask him a question or two.”
“The count’s servants are staying down on the passenger deck,” Warner said. “I can have one of the crew roust them out.”
“Just show me,” Preacher said. “I’ll do the roustin’ myself.”
The group proceeded back down to the passenger deck. Warner pointed out the small cabins next to the engine room where the servants were staying, and Preacher recalled that Simon Russell had said something about that earlier.
Preacher pounded a fist against one of the doors. When it swung open, Egon’s startled face peered out.
“Preacher,” the man said. “What is this?”
“Sorry,” Preacher said. “I was lookin’ for Gunther.”
A big, hamlike hand came down on Egon’s shoulder and wrenched the smaller man out of the way. Gunther glared out at Preacher and said, “What do you want?”
“Did you hear that gunshot a few minutes ago?”
“I hear very little when I sleep.”
“This is true,” Egon put in. “No one can hear much over Gunther’s snoring.”
He stepped back as the big man turned and snarled at him.
“So you’ve been here all evenin’?” Preacher asked.
“Go away,” Gunther said instead of answering the question. “I do not want to talk to you.”
Egon said, “We have all been here sleeping, all three of us.”
Count Stahlmaske crossed his arms over his chest and said to the mountain man, “Are you satisfied now? Gunther could not have shot at you, just as I said.”
Gunther’s frown darkened as he looked at Preacher.
“You thought I shot at you?”
“You told me earlier you were gonna get even with me,” Preacher said.
“By breaking your kopf with my fists, not by shooting at you from the dark like some coward!”
Preacher’s eyes narrowed. He asked, “How’d you know the varmint was hidin’ in the dark when he took that shot at me?”
“Night it is! Where else would he be?”
Preacher supposed that answer made sense, but he was still suspicious.
“Are you satisfied now that Gunther did not try to kill you?” Stahlmaske asked.
“Maybe,” Preacher said. The count’s attitude got under his skin, as it had ever since he’d met the man. “I reckon the next question is what proof you’ve got you were where you say you were.”
“How dare you!” Stahlmaske said as he bristled with anger.
“Hold on, Preacher,” Senator Allingham said uneasily. “The count is a guest in our country—”
“That wouldn’t keep him from pullin’ a trigger.”
In frigid tones, Stahlmaske said, “If I were to try to kill you, it would be face-to-face, with sabers or dueling pistols or some other honorable means of settling our differences. A nobleman never hides his actions in the shadows.”
“Just because a fella calls himself noble don’t mean he really is.”
“Enough!” Stahlmaske turned to Allingham and Russell. “I will not stand for this. I demand that this insolent lout be put off the boat now!”
Russell said, “Preacher’s agreed to come along because some of the other fur company boats ran into trouble—”
“I’m sure Captain Warner and his crew can handle any problems we encounter.”
The captain spoke up, saying, “I’d like to think so, but it’s true I feel better having Preacher come along with us, Count. His reputation alone ought to make some fellas think twice about trying to bother us.”
“His reputation as what?” Stahlmaske said. “An insolent fool?”
Preacher’s jaw tightened as he struggled to control his anger. He said, “I’m gonna let that pass, Count, but don’t push your luck.”
Stahlmaske looked around at the other men and must have been able to tell they weren’t going to agree to his demand that Preacher leave. He snapped, “Very well. I see now what I must do to satisfy my honor.”
With that, he stepped closer to Preacher. In an alarmed voice, Senator Allingham said, “Count, wait a minute—”
Stahlmaske ignored him. He said to Preacher, “Even though you are no gentlemen, we will settle this as if you were. I challenge you to a duel!”
His hand flashed up and slapped Preacher across the face.