LITMIR.BIZ

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about a train coming in, but there it was. He counted fourteen wagons.

      Preacher’s lips tightened under the drooping mustache. That many more people crowdin’ in, takin’ up space, breathin’ the air…

      “Take it easy, old son,” he told himself. He might not like the influx of new settlers, but there wasn’t a blasted thing he could do about it. He lifted the reins and heeled Horse into motion.

      From the top of the pass it took him a little over an hour to make his way down to the valley floor. As he rode across the grassy plain toward the settlement, the covered wagons grew larger. He began to be able to make out details, like the people moving around the vehicles.

      He wondered if they planned to stay here or if they were bound for someplace farther west. So far as Preacher knew, the Harts’ trading post was the last outpost of civilization, but he was sure it wouldn’t stay that way. There was always somebody who wanted to go farther, to extend the boundaries. There would never be any progress without folks like that. Somebody always had to be the first…

      “Now I’m really surprised to see you again so soon,” Corliss Hart greeted him from the front porch of the trading post as Preacher reined in a short time later. “You just left yesterday, Preacher.” Corliss’s eyes narrowed as he realized something. “Where’s your packhorse and where did those other horses come from?”

      “Lost the packhorse,” Preacher said as he swung down from the saddle. “You hear a rumblin’ noise yesterday mornin’ a while after I left?”

      “Now that you mention it, I think I did. What happened?”

      Preacher looped Horse’s reins around the hitch rail, tied the other horses leads, and told Dog, “Stay.” He stepped up onto the porch, into the shade of the awning, and pointed toward South Pass. “Avalanche.”

      “In the pass? My God, are you all right?”

      “The three o’ us managed to stay out of its way. The packhorse wasn’t so lucky. Lost him and all my supplies.”

      “That’s terrible. No wonder you came back.” Corliss shook his head. “You’ve had so much bad luck, it almost seems like someone is out to get you, Preacher.”

      Preacher nodded. “They are.”

      Corliss stared at him and asked, “What do you mean?”

      “Three men started that avalanche on purpose. They were tryin’ to kill me, just like the two the day before.”

      “But…but…” Corliss struggled to understand. “Did you know any of them?”

      Preacher shook his head. “Also like the day before. The varmints were strangers to me. I didn’t bring their bodies back with me this time. Didn’t seem like there was any point to it.”

      “You, uh, killed them? Not that I blame you—”

      “Matter of fact,” Preacher said, “they got in an argument and killed each other. I was just about to step into their camp and start askin’ them some questions, too.”

      “Like why they were after you?”

      “Yep.” Preacher nodded toward the door of the trading post. “Reckon I need to buy some more supplies. Hope you’d trade some more provisions for two of the horses. I’ll need one to replace the packhorse.”

      “I’ll be happy to trade with you, Preacher, you know that. I’d give you the supplies even without the trade. You’ve done so much to help us…”

      Preacher said dryly, “Jerome might not take kindly to you givin’ away the tradin’ post’s stock. Anyway, let’s see how much the two horses will buy me.”

      Before he could go on, someone stepped out of the store and said, “Excuse me, Mr. Hart, I was wondering—Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

      Preacher turned his head to look at the newcomer, and for a moment his breath seemed to stick in his throat. Even though he liked pretty girls as much as the next fella, normally the sight of one didn’t affect him so strongly.

      However, this wasn’t just any pretty girl standing in the door of the Harts’ trading post.

      This was the most beautiful woman Preacher had seen in a long, long time…maybe ever.

      Chapter 6

      When she smiled and looked vaguely embarrassed, Preacher became aware that he was staring. He forced his eyes away from her and looked at Corliss Hart again, saying gruffly, “You go ahead and help the lady, Corliss. You and me can talk later.”

      “No, that’s all right,” the woman said. “Help this gentleman, Mr. Hart. I’m in no hurry. After all, I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

      Preacher took that to mean she was one of the new settlers who had arrived with the wagon train and meant to stay there. That was hard to believe. A woman like her would be as out of place in this tiny frontier settlement as a boar hog in a fancy drawing room.

      She was tall…not just tall for a woman, but enough so that she didn’t have to tip her head back very far to look Preacher in the eye. She wore a dark green traveling outfit and had a hat of a matching shade on her short blond curls, not a hair of which looked out of place in an elaborate arrangement that framed a lovely face with rich brown eyes and full lips. He wasn’t sure how she had managed to come all the way out here and not even have a hair out of place, but she had. Like most blondes, she was fair-skinned, but she had begun to acquire a honey-golden tan from the time she’d spent in the sun on the journey out here. With the rude chivalry of the frontier, Preacher believed in respecting women, but he couldn’t help but notice the way her breasts thrust proudly against the bosom of her outfit.

      “Preacher knows what he needs, Miss Mallory,” Corliss said, “and he knows he can go ahead and help himself. What can I do for you?”

      “Well, in that case…I was wondering if you have any tea? I brought a supply with me, of course, but the journey took longer than I expected and I’m afraid that I may run out.”

      She was so pretty that Preacher hadn’t noticed her accent at first, but he heard it now. That and her asking for tea told him that she was British. He’d run into more than a few Englishers out here, and they all loved their tea. He could take it or leave it himself.

      “Yes, I have some,” Corliss told her. “Not a whole lot, but enough that I can sell you some.”

      “Splendid,” she said with a radiant smile. She surprised Preacher by turning to him again and extending her hand. “By the way, I’m Laura Mallory.”

      Preacher wasn’t accustomed to shaking hands with women, but since she’d made the offer, he took her hand and tried not to squeeze it too hard. “They call me Preacher,” he said.

      “Surely, that’s not the name your parents gave you,” she prodded, still smiling.

      “It’s, uh, Art. Arthur.”

      Corliss said, “I didn’t know that.”

      Preacher sent a quick glare in his direction. “It ain’t what I go by.” He became aware that he still had hold of Laura Mallory’s hand, so he let go of it right quick and went on. “I’m mighty pleased and honored to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

      “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Preacher.”

      “Just, uh, Preacher. That’ll do fine.”

      “All right…Preacher. I must admit, the name does seem to suit you. Are you a minister of the Gospel as well as a fur trapper?”

      Preacher shook his head. “No, ma’am, not hardly. It’s a long story involvin’ a fella I saw once back in St. Louis and some Blackfeet who had it in their heads to torture me to death.”

      A little shudder went through her. “Good heavens. You’ll have

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