CHAPTER 34
Oliver and Chessie rode the two horses while Preacher, Hawk, and Dog ranged ahead on foot, finding the best route through the rugged terrain. Preacher swung to the east of the spot where Ryker’s camp was located, giving it plenty of room. He figured that he and his companions had gotten started earlier than Ryker’s bunch likely had, and they could move faster, too. Taking wagons through the mountains was a slow process.
By midmorning, Preacher believed it was safe to assume they were now ahead of the expedition. He angled back slightly to the northeast. That took them toward Owayásuta and also toward the long ridge where he planned to spring a trap on Hoyt Ryker and rescue Edgar Merton.
When he called a halt so they could rest, Oliver objected. “We should keep going,” the young man said. “We can’t afford to waste any time. The sooner we jump Ryker and his men, the sooner we can free my father.”
“The rest is more for the horses than for you,” Preacher said. “We’re liable to need them. I hope we don’t have anybody comin’ after us, but if we do, your pa will have to ride. He ain’t in shape to do anything else.”
“I thought we were going to kill all of them.”
“That’s the plan . . . but plans have a way of not always workin’ out.”
When they started again, Hawk asked Oliver, “Are all white men as bloodthirsty as you?”
“Why don’t you ask Preacher about that? He’s white. And you’re half-white, remember?”
Hawk shook his head. “Preacher may have been born white, but now he is just Preacher, not white or red or anything else. And I know nothing of that side of my own heritage. I was raised Absaroka. As far as I am concerned, they are my people, not anyone else.”
“Well, I can’t answer your question,” Oliver said in a surly voice. “I just know I’ve got a score to settle with Hoyt Ryker, and any of his men who get in my way are going to regret it.”
Preacher let that bit of bravado pass without responding to it. So far, with the one exception when he had fallen for Hopkins’s trick, Oliver had come through and performed well when he needed to. With any luck, he would continue to do so.
By midafternoon, Preacher was able to point out the ridge. Beyond it, more of the thickly wooded mountains rose. Looking at them, Preacher spotted the pass above the little valley that was their ultimate destination.
“Once we’ve got your pa away from Ryker, it’ll take us most of a day to get there,” he explained to Oliver.
Hawk spoke up. “If we do not kill Ryker and all his men, the ones who are left alive will come after us.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Preacher said with a nod. “But we’ll stomp them snakes when we come to ’em.”
Later, when they drew near the ridge, Preacher saw the cut that he remembered and led his companions toward it. It looked like someone had taken a giant knife and slashed through the ridge, leaving a narrow passage about a hundred yards long and barely wide enough for a wagon and a team of mules to pass through it.
Preacher walked through the cut first, followed by Oliver and Chessie leading the horses, with Hawk and Dog bringing up the rear. Once they were on the other side of the ridge, Preacher looked around and found a good spot for the horses in a clearing hidden by trees and brush.
“You’ll have to stay here and keep an eye on them,” he told Chessie. “The three of us will be up on those banks, waitin’ to ambush Ryker. Hawk, you take the west bank. Oliver and me will be on the one to the east.”
Oliver pressed one of the extra pistols they had gotten from the dead Hopkins and Brill into Chessie’s hands. “It’s loaded,” he told her. “I’m not going to leave you here without some way to protect yourself.”
“But don’t use it unless you have to,” Preacher added. “Sound carries a long way out here.”
The banks on the sides of the cut were twenty feet tall, which meant the three men would be ten or twelve feet above the drivers when the wagons rattled through.
“You’ll have to be careful timin’ your jumps,” Preacher went on to Hawk and Oliver. “If you miss it’s liable to ruin everything.”
“I will not miss,” Hawk said confidently.
“Ryker has six men left, not countin’ him. He’ll probably be in the lead with one of the other men, and that leaves two to bring up the rear. We can’t waste any time gettin’ rid of the men on the wagons, because it won’t take long for the rest of ’em to start shootin’ at us. At that point it’ll just be a matter of who’s the better shot.”
“I want to take the wagon that has my father in it,” Oliver said.
Preacher shook his head. “No, that one will be in the lead. I’ll take care of it and make sure it comes to a stop. Once it does, the other wagons can’t keep goin’, no matter whether you’ve dealt with the drivers or not. You’ll take the middle wagon, Oliver, and Hawk, it’ll be up to you to stop the third one.”
That was the safest position for Oliver, Preacher thought, but it would expose his own son, Hawk, to the fire of the men riding behind the wagons. As for himself, once Ryker and the other man realized the wagons were under attack, they would whirl their horses around and charge back, more than likely with guns blazing.
He and Hawk would just have to be ready for that, the mountain man thought.
Preacher looked at the sky, saw the sun dropping toward the peaks in the west. There was a good chance the expedition wouldn’t reach the ridge before darkness fell. Would Ryker stop and make camp again, or would he push on? Preacher thought it was unlikely Ryker would risk traveling at night. Even so, they had to be ready.
“We need to climb up onto those banks,” he told Oliver and Hawk once Chessie and the horses were safely hidden in the trees. “It may be a long night, but we can’t risk Ryker slippin’ past us. The ridge is too steep to take wagons over it, but we shouldn’t have any trouble gettin’ up there.”
“If I see or hear them coming,” Hawk said, “should I signal with the call of a night bird?”
“That’ll work. And I’ll do the same. Come on, Oliver.”
They parted ways, Preacher and Oliver heading for the ridge on the east side of the cut, Hawk on the west. Preacher could still see the young warrior as Hawk began to climb.
Oliver grunted and puffed some from the effort required to get to the top of the ridge, but he kept up fairly well. When they reached the top, he threw himself on the ground and lay there breathing heavily.
Preacher left the young man there and went to the other side of the ridge, which was topped with pines. The tree trunks provided plenty of cover as he stood there studying the landscape to the south.
As rough as the terrain was, he knew he might not be able to see the wagons and outriders until they were within half a mile of the ridge. That would give Preacher, Hawk, and Oliver time to get ready, but even more warning would be better.
After a while, Oliver came up behind him and asked, “Any sign of them?”
“Not yet,” Preacher said. “You catch your breath?”
“I did,” Oliver replied, sounding a little sheepish. “Sorry I got so winded. I guess I’m just not used to this rugged outdoor life yet.”
“Six months ago, would you ever have dreamed you could do any of the things you’ve done in the past couple of weeks?”
“Good Lord, no! When I stop to think about it, I can still barely believe it.”
“Folks are generally capable of a lot more than they think they are,” Preacher said. “They just got to have a good enough reason. Before, you were out to save Chessie, then me, and now your pa. You ain’t done any of it for yourself. I reckon that’s a pretty good sign.”
“I appreciate you saying that. I’ll . . . try to live up to it.”
Preacher lifted a hand and pointed. “Look yonder.”
Oliver squinted, then shook his head and said, “I don’t see anything.”
“See those two trees stickin’ up higher than the others around ’em?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Look right between ’em.”
A note of excitement entered Oliver’s voice as he said, “There’s something moving on that slope rising behind them . . . Is that the wagons?”
“Yep. They’re still more than a mile from here. As late in the day as it is, Ryker will probably stop and make camp before he gets here.” Preacher did a birdcall, and when Hawk stepped out from the trees on the other side of the cut, Preacher pointed again. Hawk nodded to show that he understood and had already spotted the wagons himself. They all moved back into cover to watch for the approach of their enemies.
The sun had set but the western sky was still full of rosy light when the covered wagon came into view at the other side of the broad flat just south of the ridge. The two supply wagons followed it. All three vehicles stopped, and the men on horseback around them reined in. It looked like Ryker was going to make camp and wait until morning to venture through the cut, which was already cloaked in deep shadow. Things were playing out the way Preacher expected.
The three observers on the ridge watched as Ryker’s men unhitched the mules and built a fire. Oliver said quietly, “This is difficult, knowing my father is over there in that wagon, only half a mile away, injured and needing my help.”
“I know,” Preacher said, “but your best chance for helpin’ him is to wait until mornin’ and jump that bunch like we planned.”
Oliver nodded. “I understand that. But it’s hard waiting.”
“Bein’ able to wait when you need to will go a long way toward keepin’ you alive out here on the frontier.”
Oliver fell silent. Preacher didn’t think the youngster would be foolish enough to try anything on his own, but he figured he’d better keep a close eye on him anyway.
They still had some dried meat from the deer Hawk had brought down two days earlier. It was getting pretty tough and gamy by now but was better than nothing to gnaw on during the long night. Once Oliver was sound asleep, Preacher allowed himself to doze a little, knowing his sleep was light enough that he would wake up instantly if Oliver moved or if Ryker did the unexpected and started through the cut during the night.
Neither of those things happened. When Oliver woke the next morning, stretched, yawned, and climbed to his feet, the sun was already up and so was Preacher. The mountain man stood in the shadows under the trees, watching Ryker’s camp on the other side of the flats. He heard Oliver moving behind him and said without looking around, “I was just fixin’ to wake you. Looks like that bunch is gettin’ ready to break camp. They’ll be comin’ through here before too much longer. We’d best get ready.”
Oliver looked in the direction of the clearing where they had left the girl, the horses, and Dog. “I wish I knew that Chessie made it through the night all right,” he said.
“If there was any trouble, I reckon we would have known about it,” Preacher said. “She would have fired that pistol. Gal’s got a lot of grit. You’d probably do well to remember that if you’re thinkin’ about marryin’ her one of these days.”
“I never said that,” Oliver replied, looking a little uncomfortable.
“Well, maybe you ought to give it some thought. Now, come on.”
As they moved to the edge of the bank overlooking the cut, Preacher saw that Hawk was doing likewise on the other side. He pointed across the gap to the spot where Hawk should position himself, then did the same for Oliver. Both young men stretched out flat on the ground. As the wagons approached, the men with them wouldn’t be able to see anyone on top of the ridge.
Preacher took his place. They still had some waiting to do, since it would take a while for Ryker and his men to break camp and arrive at the cut. Preacher looked over at Oliver, some twenty feet away from him, and could tell that the young man was nervous, probably a mixture of worry for his father and the knowledge that soon they would be fighting for their lives again.
Preacher was calm and he had a hunch Hawk was, too. Life on the frontier taught many lessons, and one of the most important was to not fear death too much. There were so many ways the frontier could kill someone, from hostile enemies to savage animals to brutal weather, that worrying about all of them would soon drive a man mad. The key was to live as brave and honorable a life as possible, to prepare for danger without seeking it out recklessly, and to be ready to fight to the last breath. Any man who could do those things had no real reason to fear death, because he had done all he could and the rest was up to a higher power. That was the way Preacher looked at it, anyway.
A short time later, he heard hoofbeats thudding and wagon wheels creaking. The vehicles were approaching the cut. He drew his tomahawk and gripped it in his left hand. His right hand was wrapped around the butt of a charged, primed, and double-shotted pistol. He planned to use the tomahawk on the driver, then bring down at least one of the outriders with the pistol.
The noises from the wagons grew louder and began to echo. That told Preacher the lead wagon had entered the cut. It rumbled on. The sun was high enough in the sky now that the air was starting to grow warm. Preacher felt a trickle of sweat on the back of his neck where the rays were shining.
Hawk and Oliver wouldn’t make their moves until he made his. He knew they were watching him. He edged forward but not enough to look over the edge of the bank just yet. He continued to judge the wagons’ progress by sound.
Hoofbeats went past, a quicker, lighter rataplan from the two men on horseback leading the way. The slower, heavier thuds of the mules’ hooves hitting the ground came closer. Preacher risked a look. The team hitched to the lead wagon was passing just below him. Sitting on the driver’s seat, swaying back and forth a little, was the gigantic Pidge.
Preacher’s jaw tightened. Despite their initial clash back in St. Louis, Pidge had taken a liking to him after Preacher had patched up the wounds the giant had suffered in the battle with the Sioux. The mountain man hated to have to kill him now. But Pidge’s first loyalty was probably to Hoyt Ryker, and Preacher couldn’t allow himself to lose sight of the goal, which was to save Edgar Merton. At this point, there was nothing he could do except continue with the plan.
Those thoughts flashed through Preacher’s brain in the couple of seconds it took for the mule team to move on and the front of the wagon to draw even with him. Preacher couldn’t wait. Gripping the pistol and tomahawk, he came up on his knees, then surged to his feet and powered into a leap that carried him away from the bank and into the air as he dropped toward Pidge.