Preacher's Pursuit. William W. Johnstone

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СКАЧАТЬ trading post to pick up Horse, and as he led the stallion out of the paddock, Jake came up to him and asked, “Are you gonna take me with you this time, Preacher?” The youngster asked him that same question almost every time he paid a visit to the trading post. “I could be a big help to you.”

      “Well, I dunno, Jake. You’re a mighty big help to your ma and pa, I expect.”

      “Corliss and Deborah ain’t really my ma and pa. But I reckon you’d know that.”

      Preacher nodded. “’Deed I do. But they been takin’ care of you like you’re their own young’un, and I reckon you sort of owe them for that. And with Deborah bein’ in a family way, they’re gonna need even more help around here.”

      “Yeah, but Preacher…” An anguished expression appeared on the boy’s round face. “They say there’s gonna be a teacher on the next wagon train headin’ this way. There’s gonna be a school here. You just can’t leave me to face that!”

      Preacher sympathized; he truly did. He had never had much education himself before he left the family farm and headed West when he was about Jake’s age. He had learned to read, some on his own, some with the help of other mountain men who’d had some book learning. He could cipher some, too. A fella had to be able to do that if he wasn’t going to be taken advantage of by the fur traders.

      But the thought of sitting in a building and letting some soft-handed gent try to pound facts into his head while life was going on outside…well, that was just horrifying.

      There was nothing he could do, though, except slowly shake his head. “I’m sorry, Jake,” he said. “Maybe one o’ these days, but not yet.”

      “Damn it, I was afraid that was what you were gonna say! Am I gonna have to run off again?”

      Preacher knew how badly that would upset Corliss, Deborah, and Jerome, who looked on the youngster as a member of the family. He gave Jake a hard stare and said, “If you do, I’ll have to find you and tan your hide good, boy. That what you want?”

      Jake swallowed. He knew that there was nowhere he could go in the mountains where Preacher couldn’t find him. “All right,” he said, not bothering to hide the reluctance in his voice. “I guess I can give it a try, Preacher. But only if you promise me that one o’ these days I’ll be your partner.”

      Preacher hesitated. He wasn’t the sort of man who gave his word lightly. At the same time, he couldn’t really see himself taking some green kid under his wing and trying to teach the sprout how to take care of himself. Jake had him over a damn barrel, he thought.

      “All right,” he finally said. “But I decide when you’re ready to go with me. Deal?”

      Jake held up a pudgy hand. “Deal.”

      Preacher shook with the boy and then handed him the packhorse’s reins. “Here, hold these while I mount up.” He swung up onto Horse’s back and took the reins from Jake. He had already said his good-byes to the Harts, and to Pete Carey and Bouchard and Jock as well. He lifted a hand in farewell as he said, “Be seein’ you,” and nudged Horse into a trot that carried him through the open gates of the stockade.

      He looked back once and saw Jake standing there just outside the walls, watching him ride away.

      Preacher left the settlement behind him and worked his way up toward the pass. He was going back to the same area where he had been when the attempt on his life was made. He had traps there that still needed tending to, and he sure wasn’t going to let what happened scare him off.

      When he reached the pass, he paused to look down into the valley at the settlement. Even though he didn’t like the idea of civilization encroaching on the mountains, he had to admit to himself that he had grown fond of some of those folks down there. Corliss was a bit of a wastrel at times, Deborah could be a mite bossy, and Jerome was just downright annoying more often than not. But they were good people and had demonstrated that on more than one occasion. Jake was…well, Jake was Jake. For good or bad, there was no other kid quite like him. Preacher liked quite a few of the other folks, too. Maybe, in the long run, civilization wouldn’t be such a bad thing…

      Lost in those thoughts as he rode through the pass leading the packhorse, at first Preacher almost didn’t notice the low-pitched rumble that sounded somewhere above him.

      But he heard it, and his instincts warned him that something was wrong. He jerked his head up to peer toward the direction of the noise, and his eagle-sharp eyes saw instantly what was happening.

      High above him in the pass, rocks had begun to fall, taking other rocks with them, and in little more than the blink of an eye, thousands of tons of stone had gathered steam and were sliding down the slope right toward Preacher, crushing everything in their path.

      Chapter 4

      Dust billowed up from the avalanche, but the thick gray cloud didn’t obscure the vanguard of the slide. Preacher could see the massive boulders bounding down the slope like they were no more than pebbles. Any one of those giant rocks would be enough to smash him into something that didn’t even resemble a human being.

      That is, if he waited around and let one of the stony bastards land on him.

      He dug his heels into Horse’s flanks and leaned forward over the stallion’s neck, yelling encouragement to the animal as Horse lunged ahead in a gallop. Dog ran alongside, stretching his legs to keep up with the stallion. Preacher hung on tightly to the packhorse’s reins and dragged it along with them.

      He had known instantly that their only hope was to charge straight ahead. The angle of the slide made it impossible for them to turn around and get clear in time, going that way.

      There was a slim chance, though, that they might be able to get ahead of it. Horse was an ugly, hammer-headed brute, but he had speed and strength and stamina to spare.

      The same could not be said of the packhorse, however. Preacher realized that after only a few strides by Horse. The other animal was holding them back. If Preacher hung on to the reins, they were all doomed.

      Hating to do it, both for the sake of the packhorse and for the supplies that the horse carried, Preacher let go of the reins and called to his own mount, “Let ’er rip, you son of a gun!”

      The roar of the falling rocks was deafening now. Preacher watched the inexorable advance of the slide from the corner of his eye as Horse raced along the winding trail that led through the pass. Those twists and turns slowed them down; a flat, straight run would have given them a better chance.

      But a fella had to play the cards he was dealt…and Preacher would always stay in the hand until the end. He’d be damned if he would fold.

      He glanced around, saw that Dog was falling behind. “Come on!” he yelled, not knowing if the big cur could hear him over the unholy racket or not. “Come on, you shaggy varmint!”

      Dog lunged ahead harder, digging for all the speed he could muster. The two animals were Preacher’s best friends in the world, and he wasn’t going to leave either of them behind. He slowed Horse slightly, and Dog drew closer.

      “We’ll make it together, or we won’t make it!” Preacher said through gritted teeth.

      On they raced, until it seemed that the roar of the avalanche would be enough to crush them by СКАЧАТЬ