Preacher's Hell Storm by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-10-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

The two trappers volunteered to take shifts at standing guard, but Preacher didn’t have enough confidence in them yet to entrust all their lives to the greenhorns. He solved that slight awkwardness by saying, “You and me can take one turn, Charlie, while Aaron and Hawk take the other.”

If they knew why he made that decision, they gave no sign of being offended. Hawk and Buckley stood the first watch, while everybody else turned in once night had fallen.

Preacher roused from sleep without anyone having to wake him when the time came. That ability to wake up whenever he wanted to was one he had developed quickly after leaving the family farm and coming to the frontier.

Charlie Todd was wrapped up in a blanket nearby, snoring softly. Preacher reached over and shook his shoulder, saying, “Time to get up, Charlie.”

Todd came out of slumber flailing and sputtering.

Preacher tightened his grip on the young trapper’s shoulder. “Take it easy,” the mountain man said in a low, urgent voice. “Nothin’s wrong. It’s just time for us to stand guard.”

The calming words seemed to get through to Todd. He settled down, then pushed himself to a sitting position, raked his fingers through his tangled brown hair, and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry. I was, uh, dreaming that Indians were chasing me.”

“Blackfeet?”

“I guess. Although to be honest, I can’t really tell any difference in them, no matter what tribe they’re from.”

That sounded strange to Preacher, who could tell at a glance which tribe a warrior belonged to. Their clothing, the way they wore their hair, the sort of decorations they sported, the paint on their faces . . . all those things were distinctive and indicated a man’s tribal affiliation.

No point in explaining that to Todd. He would learn if he survived long enough.

Preacher said, “Right now, all you’ve got to remember is that if you see an Indian who ain’t either Hawk or White Buffalo, chances are he’s an enemy and you need to avoid him.”

“You mean I shouldn’t shoot him?”

“Not until you’re sure what’s goin’ on. He might have fifty friends with him, right around the bend, who’ll come tearin’ after you.”

“I wouldn’t want that.”

“No,” Preacher agreed, “you wouldn’t. Best to avoid trouble, if you can.”

“Is that what you do?”

Preacher chuckled. “Well, no. Most people would say I go out huntin’ trouble. But I’ve had a heap more experience dealin’ with it than you have.”

“The only way to gain experience is to live life to the fullest. That’s what Aaron and I were trying to do when we decided to come out here. We met and became friends in college, you know. We were students at the University of Virginia, the school President Jefferson founded.”

“I’ve got a friend who taught at some college back east, but I ain’t rightly sure which one. He gave it up to come west and be a trapper, like you fellas.”

“A professor turned fur trapper. He sounds like a fascinating fellow.”

“Oh, he is,” Preacher

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