Read Online Forty Guns West by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online

yet. The Rockies are just beginning here. Preacher does not know it, but I left my tribe and spent two years in these mountains. I do not know them as well as he does, but I am not lost.”
    â€œYou really think we can find them?” Bones asked.
    The Pawnee was honest in his reply. “We will be lucky if we do. Or unlucky,” he added.
    Bones nodded his agreement with both remarks. He did not know whether to go north, south, or west. But he did feel strongly that Preacher had not doubled back to the east. Bones had forty-eight men left, six of them still suffering from wounds that had left them just able to sit in a saddle and not much more.
    â€œIn your opinion, Dark Hand,” Bones asked, “where do you feel in your heart Preacher went?”
    â€œDeep in the mountains,” the Pawnee answered quickly. “West and slightly north of here.”
    â€œYou’ve been there?”
    â€œOne time only. It is wild country. And do not allow yourselves to be trapped in there when the winter comes. You will surely die.”
    â€œDo mountain men live up there in the winter?” Willy Steinwinder asked from the group of noblemen.
    â€œSome of them. But they are used to hardships. It does not bother them.”
    â€œBah!” the Austrian scoffed. “This is nothing compared to my Alps. Let us push on.”
    â€œYes. Quite right,” Burton Sullivan said. “And if we see painted hostiles, we shall engage them. I feel the need for some blood-letting.”
    The Pawnee looked at the Englishman. “You are a fool!” he said bluntly. “The Ute, the Arapaho, and the Cheyenne have all been watching us since we approached the shadows of the mountains. You think that pack horse broke loose the other night? Bah! A warrior slipped into camp and took it. That is sport with my people. You all sleep like the dead. If you continue to sleep in such a manner you will all be dead.” He walked off.
    â€œThe guard is doubled from here on,” Bones said. “Dark Hand knows what he’s talking about. We push on at first light.”
    * * *
    As the crow flies, Preacher and Eddie were only about seventy miles from where Bones and his man-hunters were camped. But traveling through that country is not counted in miles, rather in days and even weeks. They were camped along a tiny rushing stream in a camp so cleverly disguised that Bones and party could ride to within twenty-five feet of it and not know it was there. The Utes knew it was there, but they did not bother Preacher and the boy. They knew some sort of deadly hunt was taking place, and they were curious about that. They were both amazed and appalled that such a large band of white men would want so desperately to kill so frail-looking a boy. The Utes shook their heads and again thought how silly white men were.
    Preacher had been their enemy and he had been their friend, as he would be again. For that was the way of things. But for now, the Ute and Cheyenne chiefs passed the word: Leave Ghost Walker and the boy alone. And leave the stupid white men alone. Steal their horses if you like, but let them play out this game to its end.
    â€œThe Indians know we’re here, don’t they, Preacher?” Eddie asked. He wasn’t feeling well and Preacher had made him a soft bed of boughs and was letting him rest.
    â€œOh, yeah. I see sign of them near’bouts ever’ day. They’re curious and puzzled ’bout what’s goin’ on. Injuns is naturally curious folks. And the ways of the white man is real strange to them. It’s puzzlin’ to ’em why all them men is chasin’ us. They can’t figure out what harm we is to them.” Preacher looked over at Eddie and saw the boy was asleep. He walked over to him and put a hand on Eddie’s forehead. Hot. Real hot.
    Preacher had found some catnip plants and he crushed some and made a tea. While he was letting it steep, Eddie moaned and