“But he saw us.”
“Men like that feller are common as rocks out here.They come and go and mind their own business.As we mind ours.The same goes for that old codger who wandered into camp the other night.You had no call to kill him neither.”
Cold sweat trickled down Sheila’s back.Suddenly, she was afraid they’d never let her go back with her father after hearing everything Dodger had done.
“I’m learning.”The killer simply grinned in response to Wendell’s reprimand.“When I fetched that horse for her ladyship here, I found a kid sound asleep in a little office they got in that livery there.I could’ve cut his throat and made sure he wouldn’t raise no fuss, but I let him sleep.”
Wendell shook his head.“That was mighty big of you.Imagine.Not killing a kid.”
Sheila’s stomach turned.These men were brutes.If that boy Dodger saw sleeping was the same one who’d helped her when she went out to Marlowe’s ranch, he was a good lad.She prayed he was still safe and asleep, untouched by Dodger’s cruelty.
The trail narrowed as they entered a grove of firs, and the older man moved ahead.Dodger reined in his horse and stared at Sheila as she passed him.She didn’t look at him or give any indication she’d heard even a word.A moment later, she glanced over her shoulder.He was again lagging behind.
“So you’re not the boss then,” she said to Wendell.
“Nope.And don’t wanna be.”
“Is the boss more like you or like him?”
“The boss ain’t like nobody.”Wendell sent her a cross look.“And you’re asking way too many questions.”
“I only want to know if I’ll live to see Elkhorn again,” she persisted.“That Dodger is dangerous.”
“Don’t mind him, miss.”He frowned and shook his head.“He ain’t nothing but a hired hand.Gunslicks like him are common as rats on a riverboat.He takes one more step out of line, and I’ll put a bullet in him, just to put him out of his misery.You’re safe with us.”
Sheila turned in the saddle and found Dodger had dropped back so far that he was again out of sight.She certainly hoped Wendell was right.
She imagined, though, that in the world of pirates and outlaws, the whip was always wielded by the most ruthless villain of all.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Most of theblood on Caleb wasn’t his own.
“You hurt?We heard the shouting and come running.”Zeke sidestepped his way down the steep slope, six-shooter in hand.He stopped and gaped wide-eyed at the dead cougar.
Caleb shook his head and wiped his knife on a moss-covered rock.“How’s the preacher?”
“Tore up, some.But he’s a tough old bird.That’s one big cat there.”
Caleb looked down at the bloodied mountain lion, fiercely savage even in death.He didn’t want to say it, but he didn’t find any satisfaction in killing these majestic animals.In this case, though, it was kill or be killed.
Lord, how often did life on the trail come down to those two choices.
The two of them climbed back to the trail.Everett had tied the agitated mule to a sapling and was tending to the minister, who was sitting with his back against a rock.
The cougar had left his mark on Preacher’s face and neck.The old man hadn’t been wearing his coat, and his vest and shirt were blood-soaked and largely torn to shreds.The cat had clawed his arms and chest pretty badly.
“All the years I’ve roamed these hills, spreading the Good Word, I’ve never been attacked by one of them.”
Caleb crouched beside him.“And you said yesterday that you were too tough for a grizzly to chew on.”
“Guess that cougar reckoned he had sharper teeth.”He started to chuckle but winced, pressing a bloody hand to his ribs.“Fact is, that monster was after my old mule.I just happened to get in his way.”
“From what I saw, you were doing your damnedest to get in his way.”
“That’s true enough.”Preacher gazed fondly at his beast of burden, who was keeping an eye on him too.“We’ve been together for many a year.”
Caleb understood that kind of loyalty.A man could call an animal dumb all he pleased, but sometimes a horse, dog, or mule was the only creature that’d stand by him when trouble came.
