Preacher's Blood Hunt Read online

  That wasn’t going to keep up their strength for very long.

  Charlotte sat down on the rock next to Will where he had been perched on sentry duty. The warmth of her hip against his through their buckskins felt good. Without thinking about what he was doing, he slipped an arm around her.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Do you ever regret running away with me and coming out here?” she asked softly.

  “What? Good heavens, no! I could never regret being with you.”

  “Even if it costs you your life?”

  “I’ve always known the cost might be high. It always is for the things in life that are truly valuable.”

  Charlotte snuggled closer. “This past year, I’ve felt more alive than I ever thought I would, Will. Even with all the hardships and danger, it’s been worthwhile for me.”

  “For me, too. We can’t let ourselves think that it’s over. We’ve still got a fighting chance.”

  As he said that, he turned his head to press his lips against her glossy black hair. He was leaning toward her when the arrow slammed into his back and drove him forward off the rock.

  Preacher had led his pursuers on a merry chase during the day, but it was almost over. By his count, with some help from Dog, he had killed fourteen men and cut Pendexter’s force down by a little more than half.

  Sending that many men across the divide in one day was a sobering thing. Preacher had spilled a lot of blood in his lifetime and taken the lives of more men than he could count, but he didn’t deal out death callously or lightly. His conscience was clear—as he had said many times before, he’d never killed a man who didn’t need killin’—but all that humanity weighed on a man. It surely did.

  If everything went according to his plan, he would kill even more before the day was over.

  With every exchange of gunfire, the net had drawn closer around him. He had worked his way back toward the canyon, disposing of as many of Pendexter’s men as he could while at the same time drawing them on.

  He had seen something earlier in the day that had sparked an idea in his head. He knew approximately where on the mountainside the canyon was located, and several hundred feet above it were a number of boulders that looked like they were poised to roll down the slope. It had occurred to him that if he could lure all of his enemies to the area in front of the canyon and then climb up there to start an avalanche, he might be able to wipe out all of Pendexter’s force at once.

  Of course, there was considerable risk in that plan. If Will and Charlotte stayed in the canyon, they would be in the path of the falling rocks, too. Preacher needed them to stay there to exchange shots with Pendexter’s men and make them believe they were laying siege to the canyon, instead of being lured into a trap.

  Preacher thought the back end of the canyon, where it narrowed down to the spring, would be fairly safe because of the way the mountainside bulged out above it. When they heard the avalanche’s rumble, Will and Charlotte would have to abandon their position at the mouth of the canyon and make a run for the other end.

  It was the best chance they all had of getting out of there alive, Preacher decided.

  He reached the base of the bluff that led up to the canyon. Some of the hunters might be watching him at that very moment, but he didn’t care. They needed to know where he was going. He paused and whistled a birdcall, the signal he had told Will and Charlotte he would use when he returned to the canyon.

  No response came from above.

  Preacher frowned. It was possible they hadn’t heard him, so he whistled again. Still nothing. Maybe they had mistaken his signal for the call of a real bird, even though with all the shooting that had been going on in the valley, none of the birds still around were making any noise.

  Preacher felt the hackles on the back of his neck stir. Something was wrong. “Come on, Dog,” he said quietly. “We’d better get up there.”

  They climbed the bluff without much trouble, even though Preacher was weighed down somewhat by the four rifles slung over his shoulder and the half-dozen pistols stuck here and there around his body.

  When they reached the top he unslung one of the loaded rifles and held it ready as he scanned the canyon. Dog padded forward, equally tense, and suddenly stopped and growled.

  “I see him.” Preacher broke into a run toward the shape of a man sprawled behind some rocks.

  Will Gardner lay on his side. His face was pale and the shaft of an arrow protruded from his back. A pistol lay on the ground beside his limp, outstretched hand.

  Preacher didn’t see Charlotte anywhere.

  He dropped to a knee beside Will. “Keep watch, Dog.” He rested a hand on the young man’s chest.

  Will was breathing.

  Preacher checked the arrow, saw that the head hadn’t penetrated too deeply. He drew the knife, made a couple cuts, and carefully worked the arrowhead out of Will’s back. Fresh blood gushed from the wound, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing as long as the bleeding didn’t continue for too long.

  Preacher was worried about Charlotte, but he had to concentrate on saving Will’s life. He made a hurried search for some moss with which to pack the wound and found enough to staunch the crimson flow. As he was binding the moss in place, Will groaned and started to stir.

  “Take it easy,” Preacher told him. “I’ll help you sit up in a minute.”

  “Charlotte . . .” Will gasped. “Blood Eye!”

  It was what Preacher suspected had happened. He had known all along that Blood Eye might still be a threat, but he couldn’t handle everything at once.

  When he had patched up Will as best he could, he lifted the young man and propped him against one of the rocks. Will was washed out and haggard, but he seemed to be thinking clearly.

  “Blood Eye got into the canyon somehow and attacked us from behind. I’d been trying to keep watch for him, as well as for Pendexter’s men, but he was too sly. And I was . . . distracted.”

  A gal as pretty as Charlotte could certainly distract a young fella, Preacher thought. “Did that ugly varmint hurt Charlotte?”

  “Not that I know of. In fact, she got a shot off, and I’m pretty sure she wounded him. He was already hurt. He had a lot of dried blood on his side.”

  “Got winged during that fight last night,” Preacher said. “What happened then?”

  “The rifle was empty. She tried to use it as a club against him, but he knocked it out of her hands. She struggled with him . . . kept him from coming after me . . . I was able to crawl into cover behind these rocks, but I couldn’t get a shot at him, not with Charlotte so close to him. He . . . he dragged her away.”

  Will’s voice was bitterly self-reproachful as he went on. “He dragged her away, and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. I tried to get up and go after them, but I passed out. The next thing I knew, you were here.”

  “The shape you were in, if you’d caught up to him he likely would’ve killed you. But the fact that he ambushed you, didn’t press the fight, and dragged Charlotte off tells me that he’s probably hurt pretty bad, too.” Preacher paused. “You reckon you can stand up and walk, Will?”

  “Don’t . . . don’t worry about me. Just go after Blood Eye . . . and Charlotte.”

  “Well, I’d do that, except for one thing.” Preacher already heard the sound of hoofbeats coming closer down below.

  Will clutched the mountain man’s arm arm and asked raggedly, “What are you talking about? You have to find them! You have to . . . save her!”

  “That’s what I plan to do,” Preacher promised the young man, “but right now we’ve got company comin’, and if we don’t give ’em a warm welcome neither of us will get out of here alive!”

  CHAPTER 37

  Preacher helped Will to his feet and steadied him as he hobbled over to the canyon mouth. He lowered Will to the ground behind a place where the rock jutted out and provided a little cover.

  As the mountain man unslung the other rifles and placed the
m on the ground beside Will, he said, “What’s left of Pendexter’s bunch will be here in a few minutes. You’ve got make ’em think we’re all still here and keep ’em occupied. Fire one of these rifles, then a couple of the pistols. Reload one gun, fire a couple more, then reload again. Keep switchin’ back and forth between the rifles and the pistols.”

  “I . . . I think I can do that,” Will said. “I’m a little lightheaded right now—”

  “That’s from losin’ so much blood. You’ll be all right. Just don’t let those no-goods make it up the bluff. I’m countin’ on you, Will.”

  “Charlotte counted on me, and I let her down.”

  “Don’t go to thinkin’ like that. We’ll find Charlotte, and she’ll be all right. But right now we’ve got to take care of that other bunch.”

  “If I see Pendexter, I’m going to kill him. I’ll put a rifle ball in his head.”

  “Be my guest,” Preacher said. “He’s got it comin’.”

  “What are you going to be doing while I’m holding them off?”

  Preacher pointed up the slope above them. “See those big rocks up yonder? I’m gonna start them rollin’ in this direction.”

  Will’s eyes widened. “You’re going to start an avalanche? But won’t that get me, too?”

  “Not if you take off for the other end of the canyon when it—” Preacher stopped short as he realized that in Will’s condition, the young man wouldn’t be able to run fast enough to get out of harm’s way if he waited until the avalanche started.

  “Tell you what,” Preacher resumed. “I’ll give you a signal when to take off for the other end of the canyon, so you’ll have enough time to get there before the avalanche rumbles through.”

  “But won’t that allow Pendexter’s men more time to reach the canyon, too?”

  “Can’t be helped. I’ll howl like a wolf when it’s time for you to pull back.”

  Will nodded grimly.

  “Dog”—Preacher pointed to the other end of the canyon—“go on back there and stay.”

  Dog whined as if he didn’t like the command.

  “I don’t care. There ain’t nothin’ you can do to help me now. Go on.”

  With a disgusted look on his face, Dog padded away toward the spring.

  Down below, about a quarter mile away, a number of riders emerged from the trees on the other side of the open area at the base of the bluff. Preacher recognized Barnabas Pendexter as one of them, along with Larrabee and a dozen other men.

  Preacher picked up one of the rifles. “I’ll help you get the ball started, Will. We got plenty of powder and shot, so don’t worry about burnin’ too much of it. Keep the lead flyin’ as thick and fast as you can, son, and we might have a chance.”

  “I won’t let you down, Preacher,” Will said in a voice choked with emotion.

  The range was long, but Preacher drew a bead on Pendexter, anyway. Maybe he could make a lucky shot and cut the head off the snake first thing. “Let ’er rip,” he told Will.

  The young man had braced one of the rifles against the rock. He fired, and Preacher squeezed the trigger a couple heartbeats later. The twin reports echoed across the valley.

  Not one of the men below toppled from his saddle, so Preacher knew the shots had fallen short. But they had served their purpose by getting the bunch’s attention. Gray smoke puffed from rifle barrels as the men returned the fire.

  Preacher quickly reloaded the rifle and set it beside Will. “Here we go.” He sprinted for the far end of the canyon as shots continued to ring out behind him.

  Dog jumped around eagerly as Preacher passed him. The mountain man didn’t slow down. The slopes above the canyon weren’t sheer, but climbing them presented a challenge. He grabbed handholds and started pulling himself up.

  A moment later, he was surprised to come upon a trail that hadn’t been visible from below. It blended into the rocky background. Mountain goats must have made it, he thought. He’d been accused in the past of being half mountain goat himself, so he scrambled up the trail faster than he had expected.

  At the canyon mouth, Will kept up sporadic bursts of rapid fire. It sounded like two or three people were defending the canyon. Eventually Pendexter or Larrabee might figure out it was only one man with several weapons on hand, but Preacher doubted if there would be enough time for that to happen.

  One way or another, it was going to be over soon.

  The trail turned into a ledge that slanted up to the cluster of boulders that was Preacher’s objective. They were only about twenty yards away.

  He paused to look down. He could see all of the canyon from there except the area at the back where the spring was located. It confirmed his hunch that the boulders might pass over that part of the canyon as they tumbled down the slope.

  He couldn’t see the bluff leading up to the canyon at all, but he could see the trees where Pendexter’s hired killers had been a few minutes earlier. They had advanced beyond that point and might have reached the base of the bluff.

  Preacher threw back his head and let out a wolf howl.

  At the canyon mouth, Will twisted his head around sharply and looked up toward the boulders. He pushed himself to his feet and started toward the canyon’s far end in a shaky run. Every few steps, he used the butt of one of the rifles he carried to brace himself up, like a makeshift crutch.

  Preacher headed for the boulders once again.

  He was about ten feet from the nearest one when Blood Eye stepped out from behind it with Charlotte’s neck held in the crook of his left arm and the knife in his right hand pressed to her side.

  Preacher stopped short. He still had the knife and the hatchet, but neither of those weapons would do him any good at the moment. Blood Eye held Charlotte in front of him like a human shield. The renegade Crow’s one good eye glared murderously at the mountain man.

  “I figured we’d run into each other again,” Preacher said.

  “You are fated to die at my hand,” Blood Eye rasped. He was in bad shape, but his hatred kept him going and continued to make him a danger.

  “I don’t think so. Charlotte, are you all right?”

  Blood Eye’s arm was so tight across her throat that she couldn’t talk. Preacher didn’t see any fresh bloodstains on her buckskins, though, so he was hopeful that Blood Eye hadn’t hurt her.

  “I waited for you, white man,” Blood Eye said. “Now we finish it, eh?”

  “Fine with me. Let the girl go, and we’ll settle it, just like you want.”

  With every moment that went by, Pendexter’s men had more of a chance to reach the canyon. If Preacher didn’t get that avalanche started soon, they might overrun Will’s position and shoot him full of holes.

  Blood Eye urged Charlotte along the ledge. They came closer to Preacher. Only a few feet separated them from the mountain man.

  “Yes,” Blood Eye said with a hideous grin. “I will let the girl go.”

  A sudden shove sent her off the ledge. Charlotte screamed as she found herself with nothing but empty air underneath her.

  The shocking, unexpected move horrified Preacher just enough to freeze him for half a second, giving Blood Eye the time to leap at him. The knife in the renegade’s hand flashed up and then down as it streaked toward Preacher’s chest.

  Preacher grabbed Blood Eye’s wrist and turned the blade aside at the last instant. The point ripped a fiery line across his ribs. He pivoted, hauled Blood Eye around with him, and rammed the Crow against the rock face that rose beside the ledge.

  Preacher heard a sharp crack and knew at least one of the renegade’s ribs broke under the impact. He kept his left hand clamped around Blood Eye’s right wrist and strained to hold back the knife.

  At the same time, his right hand shot forward and locked around Blood Eye’s throat. The two men stood on the ledge separated by only an inch or two. Their bodies trembled as they strained against each other. Even though they hardly moved, it was a clash of titans.

  Blood Eye’s
lips drew back from his teeth in a grimace. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. Preacher heard the Crow’s breath bubbling in his throat and knew that the jagged end of a broken rib had punctured one of his opponent’s lungs.

  The renegade was drowning in his own blood.

  Blood Eye spat crimson in Preacher’s face. He couldn’t say anything, not with Preacher choking him. They swayed slightly back and forth as powerful corded muscles struggled against each other.

  “You’re finished,” Preacher grated. “Go ahead and die!”

  Blood Eye suddenly weakened, and Preacher rammed him against the cliff again. Blood gushed from the Crow’s mouth, flooding down over Preacher’s hand. He twisted Blood Eye’s wrist, shoved hard, and buried the knife in the Indian’s chest. The renegade stiffened. His good eye widened and bulged.

  With a bellow of rage, Preacher wheeled around and threw the dying Crow off the ledge. Blood Eye flew through the air and crashed down on the slope. He tumbled limply for a few yards and then stopped in an untidy sprawl.

  “Help!” Charlotte cried.

  Preacher looked down and saw her clinging to the ledge. She’d been able to twist in midair and grab it as she fell.

  He lunged to where she was dangling, reached down to take hold of her wrists, and lifted her to safety. She clung tightly to him for a moment.

  Then she stepped back and looked up into his rugged face. “Will . . . ?”

  The shooting was still going on down below, so Will wasn’t dead. He might have a chance.

  Preacher looked over the ledge again and saw Pendexter’s men advancing up the canyon, firing toward the end of it. “Come on,” he snapped as he sprang to the nearest boulder. “You can give me a hand.”

  He put his shoulder against it and shoved. Charlotte joined in the effort. The boulder made a grating sound as it shifted on the rock. The two of them heaved against it again and again.