in the night, they would be able to see it too. All the more reason to keep guards posted all night. With kids and a sick woman in the party, they couldnât do without the fire, though.
When he got back, he found Angela Galloway pouring herself a cup of coffee. âGet the youngâuns settled down for the night?â Preacher asked her.
âYes, they were exhausted. They went right to sleep.â
âYou look about done in yourself.â
Angela smiled wearily. âDonât worry about me. Iâll be fine.â
Over in the circle of cardplayers around the blanket, Peter laughed triumphantly. Preacher inclined his head in that direction and said, âSounds like luckâs on your husbandâs side, at least for now.â
Peter Galloway was a damned lucky man, Preacher thought, in more ways than one.
âThey seem to be enjoying themselves,â Angela said. âPeople have away of finding amusement, even in trying circumstances.â
âIt donât do no good to sit around moaninâ and cryinâ and feelinâ sorry for yourself. Thatâs just a plumb waste of time.â
Angela smiled at him. âYouâve probably never felt sorry for yourself in your life, have you, Preacher?â
He thought about Jennie and the pain he had felt when he found out she was dead. He had grieved for her, of course, but part of his sorrow had been for his own sake, for the loss he had suffered.
âI wouldnât say that,â he replied softly. âI just figure itâs better to try to do somethinâ about whateverâs wrong.â In his case, he had taken vengeance on the men responsible for Jennieâs death. It hadnât helped much, but it was better than nothing.
âThereâs an old saying about how itâs better to light one candle than to curse the darkness,â Angela said.
Preacher nodded. âYes, maâam, I reckon thatâs just what Iâm talkinâ about.â
They stood there quietly for a few moments after that while Angela sipped her coffee and Preacher leaned on the rifle, grasping the barrel of the Hawken while its buttstock rested on the ground. He had taken a shine to Angela Galloway as soon as he saw her, but he knew it was wrong and he would never act on the feeling. For one thing, and most importantly, she was a married woman, and Preacher respected the sanctity of marriage. Even though he had left home at an early age, his parents had given him a good moral grounding and the ability to tell right from wrong. For another thing, he didnât want to be disloyal to Jennieâs memory, even though it had begun to fade. Someday, Preacher figured, he would be ready to let go of the pain and just remember the good things, but that day wasnât here yet.
A deep chuckle drew his attention to the men playing cards. âLooks like this pot is mine,â Jonathan Galloway declared as he leaned forward to rake in the pile of pebbles in the center of the blanket.
âNot so fast.â The words, surprisingly, came from Ed Watson. âThat pot ainât yours.â
âWhat?â Jonathan exclaimed. âWhy not?â
âBecause you cheated, you son of a bitch!â
NINE
Preacher knew trouble when he heard it a-borninâ. He straightened from his casual stance as Peter Galloway said angrily, âDamn you, you canât talk to my uncle that way! A Galloway never cheats!â
âWell, he did,â Watson insisted in a reedy voice. âI seen him deal a card off the bottom of the deck.â
âThatâs preposterous,â Geoffrey said. âJonathan, tell him.â
âOf course. I never cheated at cards in my life,â Jonathan said. âAnd Iâm insulted that you think I did tonight.â
Watson glared at him. âI donât think itâI know it. I seen it with my own eyes. He ainât the onliest one neither. It ainât no coinseedence that