The sun sank toward the western horizon as the buggy rolled westward. After a few moments of silence, Casey said, “Do either of you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

“I reckon you deserve an explanation,” Preacher said. “Me and Beaumont are old enemies, even though we didn’t ever actually meet until about a week and a half ago. He’s been sendin’ folks to the Rockies for the past year or so, tryin’ to take over the fur trade out there, and I been stoppin’ those plans.”

“So you’re a mountain man?”

“Yeah.” Preacher smiled. “I just shaved off my beard and dressed in reg’lar clothes instead of buckskins to make Beaumont think I was somebody else. I told him my name was Jim Donnelly, and he believed me.”

“Then there really isn’t a Jim Donnelly?”

“Well, I reckon there must be at least one fella named that somewhere,” Preacher said, “but I ain’t him.”

“If you hate Beaumont, why did you go to work for him?” Casey’s eyes lit up as she thought about the question she had just asked. “Oh, I know! You were trying to get inside his organization so you could destroy it and get back at him for all the bad things he’s done.”

Preacher nodded. “That’s about the size of it. Problem is, it never did work out quite like I figured it would. I reckon I just ain’t cut out for playactin’.”

Jessie said, “It would have worked if we’d had more time. We just didn’t count on that bastard Garland Buckhalter showing up and recognizing you.”

“That was his first name? Garland?” Preacher shook his head. “I don’t reckon I ever heard it until now. Never expected to see the varmint again, either. I figured the Pawnee got him.”

“He came into the house about an hour ago,” Jessie explained as she snapped the reins and kept the horse moving briskly. “Brutus heard him talking to some of the girls. He said he’d been out on the plains for the past couple of weeks, on foot, dodging Indians. He was finally able to steal a horse yesterday, and that meant he was able to get the rest of the way to St. Louis a lot faster.”

“Probably killed the fella he stole that horse from, too,” Preacher said.

Jessie nodded. “More than likely. He also did a lot of talking about you, Preacher, mostly about how you had ruined all his plans and caused him to fail Beaumont . . . and how he was going to kill you if he ever saw you again. Brutus overheard that and warned me, and I told him that if you came in, he should keep you away from the parlor until Buckhalter was safely upstairs with one of the girls.”

“He did his best,” Preacher said. “He just didn’t have any luck.”

“Not this time,” Jessie said, a catch in her voice. “Brutus’s luck ran out . . . and so did ours.”

Preacher grunted. “We’re still alive, ain’t we? I’d say we still got some luck on our side.”

“We’re alive, but Brutus isn’t. He was a good man. He helped me a lot over the past couple of years, since Shad put me in charge of the house.”

“Before that—”

“Before that, I was just one of the whores who worked there,” Jessie said. “Is that what you wanted to know, Preacher?”

He grunted. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“I know. You don’t strike me as the judgmental sort.”

Preacher didn’t say anything for a moment, then went on, “Anyway, I’m obliged to you for shootin’ Buckhalter. Reckon you probably saved my life.”

“For a second, I thought about letting him kill you,” Jessie said bluntly. “If he had, that wouldn’t have exposed what Cleve and I have been doing. We could have continued without your help.”

“Why didn’t you?”

For a long moment, Jessie didn’t answer. Then she said, “I don’t know. Instinct, maybe. I saw Beaumont and Buckhalter about to shoot you, and I didn’t even really think about what I was doing. I just lifted my gun and . . . pulled the trigger.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“So am I,” Casey said. “I would have hated it if anything happened to Preacher. I’m glad you shot that man Buckhalter, Jessie.”

A little laugh came from Jessie. “I was aiming at Shad. I’m afraid I’m not a very good shot with a pistol.”

Preacher looked over at her, and then he laughed, too. Luck had been with him, all right, even more than he’d known.

By now dusk was settling down over the landscape west of St. Louis. Preacher directed Jessie toward the grove of trees where Uncle Dan was camped, while he kept an eye on their back trail for any signs of pursuit.

It was almost completely dark by the time they reached the place. When they had approached within earshot, Preacher motioned for Jessie to rein in, then lifted his voice and called, “Uncle Dan! It’s me, Preacher! You in there?”

“Come ahead, boy!” the old-timer replied. “I heard the buggy comin’, but didn’t know who ’twas!”

Uncle Dan stepped out of the trees as Jessie drove up to the grove. Dog followed him, a ghostly gray shape in the shadows. Uncle Dan had his rifle in his hands, ready to use it if he needed to.

Preacher hopped down from the buggy as Jessie brought it to a halt. He slapped Uncle Dan on the back and gave him a rough hug.

“The plan’s blowed all to hell,” Preacher said.

“I figured as much when I seen you had somebody with you.” Uncle Dan lifted his hat to Jessie and Casey. “Ladies. Your comp’ny is right welcome.”

“We’re hardly ladies,” Jessie said as she looped the buggy’s reins around the brake lever.

“The way I figure it, any woman is a lady until she proves otherwise,” Uncle Dan said, “and that starts from when I meet her. Anything that happened afore that don’t matter one little bit.”

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman.” Jessie smiled at him.

“Somebody’s gotta be, since this ornery young feller is rough as a cob most o’ the time,” Uncle Dan commented with a jerk of his thumb toward Preacher.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Casey chimed in. Both women climbed out of the buggy. “I think Jim is very nice. I mean, Preacher is very nice. It’s going to take me some time to get used to the fact that you’re not really Jim Donnelly, Preacher.”

“That’s fine,” Preacher assured her. “I don’t much care what folks call me—”

“As long as it ain’t late for dinner,” Uncle Dan interrupted and finished for him. “Speakin’ of which, I’ll rustle up some vittles. I got bacon to fry and a mess o’ biscuits I cooked up earlier today. Reckon I must’ve had a feelin’ somebody was comin’. These ol’ bones o’ mine are pretty good about that, you know.”

“Don’t you want to hear about what happened in town?” Preacher asked.

“Any hostiles directly on your trail?”

“Not that I know of.”

“It can wait, then,” Uncle Dan declared. “If there’s trouble, folks tend to think straighter when they got a full belly and some coffee to drink.”

As Uncle Dan led the women into the trees, Casey seemed to notice Dog for the first time. “Is that a wolf?” she asked worriedly as she shrank away from the big cur.

Preacher took the reins of the buggy horse to lead the animal into the woods. He laughed and said, “No, that’s just Dog. Hold out your hand and let him sniff it.”

“I’m not sure about that. He looks like he could bite it right off.”

“But he won’t,” Preacher assured her. “Dog, these are friends. Jessie and Casey. Friends.”

One by one, they let Dog sniff their hands. The big cur’s bushy tail began to swish back and forth.

“You’re safe from him now,” Preacher said. “He’ll never forget your scent. And he’ll die to protect you, if I tell him to.”

“I hope it won’t ever come to that,” Jessie said, “but with Shad bound to come after us . . .”

She didn’t have to finish that sentence. Preacher and the two women knew that even though they had made it safely out of St. Louis, they weren’t out of danger, by any means. In fact, you could say that even though they had reached the camp in the trees, they weren’t out of the woods, Preacher thought.

He unhitched the buggy horse and picketed it near Uncle Dan’s saddle mount and the pack horses. Meanwhile, the old-timer prepared supper over a small, almost invisible fire. When the food was ready, the four of them gathered around the embers to eat.

Jessie and Casey both said they weren’t very hungry after everything that had happened, but Preacher noticed that they put away plenty of food anyway. Having an appetite, even if they didn’t realize it, was a good sign. When they were finished with the meal, Preacher filled a cup with coffee and let the two women pass it back and forth, since he and Uncle Dan didn’t have any extra cups.

“All right,” the old man said. “Now you can tell me what happened.”

Preacher proceeded to do so, telling Uncle Dan about how he had fallen in with the campaign being waged against Beaumont by Jessie and Cleve. He drew a startled exclamation from the old-timer when he mentioned Buckhalter being alive and explained about running into the renegade wagon master at Jessie’s Place.

“When he recognized me, that tore it,” Preacher concluded. “There was some gunplay, and that fella Brutus who worked for Miss Jessie wound up dead, along with Buckhalter. Beaumont busted out through a window and got away.”

Uncle Dan let out a low whistle. “So the polecat’s still alive?”

“He is, as far as I know,” Preacher confirmed.

Uncle Dan shook his head and said, “That ain’t good. Beaumont’s so full o’ hate, he’ll have to come after the three of you. He’ll figure you double-crossed him, and he has to even the score.”

“That’s exactly the way he’ll react,” Jessie said.

Preacher clasped his hands together in front of him and leaned forward as he sat on a log. “Question is, will he send a bunch of hired killers after us . . . or will he come along, too?”

Jessie considered that for a moment, then said, “I think there’s at least a chance he’ll come after us himself. Along with as many men as he can gather up, of course. He’ll want the odds overwhelmingly on his side.”

“I was sort of hopin’ you’d say that,” Preacher replied as a grin stretched across his rugged face. “If Beaumont just sends men after us, Uncle Dan and I are right back where we started. But if he comes along, too, then we might be able to turn that to our advantage.”

“I don’t understand,” Casey put in. “What makes you say that?”

“St. Louis is Beaumont’s stompin’ ground. But once he gets out of town, then he’s in territory that’s more to my likin’.”

“He’ll try to recruit some experienced frontiersmen to come along,” Jessie warned.

Uncle Dan let out a cackle of laughter. “There ain’t no frontiersmen better’n Preacher. Shoot, I’m a lot older’n he is, and I’ll bet he’s forgot more about survivin’ out here than I ever knowed.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Preacher said. “But if I’ve got to fight Beaumont and an army, I’d rather do it out away from town.”

Jessie nodded. “That makes sense. You won’t be fighting that army alone, though. You have the three of us.”

“Not really.” Preacher shook his head. “I want Uncle Dan to take you two gals and get you as far away from here as he can, as fast as he can.”

Jessie and Casey both exclaimed in surprise at that statement.

Preacher held up a hand. “Hold on. I can do a better job of fightin’ Beaumont if I know you two are safe.”

“Forget it,” Jessie snapped. “We have plenty of reason to hate Shad, too. You can’t just send us away, Preacher.”

“And what about me?” Uncle Dan put in. “I thought we was goin’ after Beaumont together.”

“That’s the way it started out, but things have changed,” Preacher said. “It’s more important now for you to look after Jessie and Casey.”

“We don’t need looking after,” Jessie argued.

Casey was a little less vehement, but she agreed. “I want to help you, Preacher. I want to see Beaumont get what’s coming to him.”

“Oh, he’ll get what’s comin’ to him, all right,” Preacher said. “You got my word on that. No matter what else happens, Beaumont’s a dead man.”

“But what if you wind up the same way?” Casey said.

“Well . . . some things are worth the price, I reckon.” Preacher got to his feet. “I’m hopin’ it’ll be safe enough for the three of you to stay here tonight, so I can find you later.”

Uncle Dan stared at him. “What? Where in blazes are you goin’?”

“Back to St. Louis,” Preacher said.