Preacher's Inferno (PreacherThe First Mountain Man Book 28) by William W. Johnstone & J.A. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone & J.A. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2021-12-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Tired and chafing for vengeance, Stone Eyes rode along the shallow valley that led to the Snake River crossing Tracker Who Sees knew of. A handful of his warriors rode ahead of him to scout the way. Bear Kills Many rode at Stone Eyes’s side and did not speak.

Birds flitted among the branches on either side of the narrow trail that wound through boulders and trees. The air smelled crisp and clean, so the rains were over at least for a few days.

The Blackfeet had traveled all day. From what Tracker Who Sees had told him of the countryside, they would reach the crossing an hour or so before sundown. There was plenty of time to get to the other side. They could camp for the night and get an early start. That would put them at the Crow camp in the afternoon.

A lone rider, one of Tracker Who Sees’s scouts, rode his pony at a gallop and reached the old man where he was among the scouts. Tracker Who Sees waved to another scout and sent him forward. The returning scout talked briefly with the old scout.

After the short conversation, Tracker Who Sees halted his horse and waited for Stone Eyes to reach him. Saving the horse was a wise thing to do and Stone Eyes respected his old teacher for that. When he reached the old man, Tracker Who Sees took up his place on Stone Eyes’s other side.

“You have news?” Stone Eyes asked.

Tracker Who Sees would think him impertinent for asking so quickly. If he were still a student, that impertinence would not be allowed and would be punished.

“We are three miles from the crossing,” Tracker Who Sees said. “No one is there.”

“Has anyone used the crossing recently?”

That was another impertinent question but Stone Eyes didn’t care. His son was dead. The rifles were lost. He wanted vengeance and he wanted the rifles. He would allow no one to stand in his way.

“No one has been through the crossing for days,” the old scout said. “It is so. Wise Turtle says he searched up and down the river on both sides. He found only coals from campfires that were at least two weeks old. He also found dead men at one of those campfires.”

“What dead men? Whites?”

“The bodies were those of Blackfeet warriors. Wise Turtle believes they were hunters because they had bows and arrows. No rifles.”

“Their killers could have taken their rifles.”

“Perhaps, but their personal effects were left with them.”

“How were they killed?”

“They were tortured.” Tracker Who Sees remained impassive. His eyes took in everything.

“Whites killed them?” Though it was not often, Stone Eyes knew the whites could be just as callous and cruel as his warriors. That was one thing that made hunting them so interesting.

“Not white men.” Tracker Who Sees dragged a finger over his face in a pattern Stone Eyes knew. “They were marked for ill luck in the World That Comes After.”

“Some whites know those signs, as well.” Even as Stone Eyes said that, though, a quiver of doubt threaded through him.

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