Free Absaroka Ambush by William W. Johnstone

out to the wilderness, Blackjack?”
    The big man grunted. “You do have a point. A lot younger than Rupert, that’s for sure. Surely he ain’t as dumb as he sounds ’bout half the time. You know, it sure seemed back then like we knew a lot more about livin’ than he appears to.”
    â€œWe did,” Charlie agreed. “These young folks nowadays . . . I don’t know about ’em. Seems like they ain’t got no respect for their elders. You can’t tell ’em a damn thing. They know it all. Country’s goin’ to hell in a handbasket, ’way I see it. Why, I heard from my sister back home two/three years ago, and she told me the kids are a-sparkin’ each other at a mighty young age nowadays.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “It’s pitiful. Morals has gone to hell.”
    â€œYou mighty right ’bout that,” Snake said.
    Blackjack grinned. “I come out just ’fore you did, Preacher. Wasn’t it grand?”
    â€œIt was, for a fact.” And that got the men off spinning tall tales far into the night. Why, it was at least 8:00 P.M. before they wound down and hit the blankets.
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    Preacher heard the first drops of rain begin falling just about midnight, he figured, and pulled his robe over him more snugly. The Delaware had said before the men retired that it was going to rain for two or three days. Up to this point there had been only a few brief showers that didn’t last too long. Now the ladies were going to see a mighty soggy trail.
    â€œWalk!” Faith said, standing in the downpour, hands on her shapely hips. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
    â€œProbably,” Preacher told her. “I’m here, ain’t I? But you still gonna walk.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œâ€™Cause I ain’t gonna put no more strain on them mules and oxen than needs to be, that’s why. Look at them ruts yonder, Missy. They’re deep and gonna be a lot deeper ’fore the day’s done. The ground’s already soaked. Look at them clouds behind us. This is one of them storms that’s comin’ out of the east. And they’re always bad. We’re gonna have rain for about three days.”
    â€œWho says so?”
    â€œSteals Pony. That’s who.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous! Nobody can predict the weather with any degree of accuracy.”
    â€œThe Delaware can.”
    â€œPoppycock and balderdash!” She stamped her little booted foot and it sank about ankle deep.
    â€œIt’s rainin’ ain’t it? You can’t deny that. Just like he said it would.”
    â€œWe will all catch pneumonia and perish out here!”
    â€œNaw. It’s unnatural warm for this time of year. You’ll just get wet, is all. You’ll dry out.” He grinned. “Get a bar of soap and take a bath. I’ll hold the canvas so’s nobody can see you.”
    â€œYou are a vile and evil man, Preacher,” Faith flared at him. “Your thoughts alone will surely guarantee you a place in the Hellfires.”
    Preacher laughed at her and that made her madder than ever. She flounced around and tossed her strawberry curls and jumped up and down in the mud and sank a little deeper. She sure was cute when she was all flustered up.
    â€œPass the word, Eudora,” Preacher called. “Everybody who’s drivin’ oxen will walk, and only the driver will stay on the box behind the mules. The rest of you—walk!”
    â€œYou are perfectly horrid man!”
    â€œWalk, Missy, Walk!” He looked down at her feet, which were out of sight in the mud. “Providin’ you can pull your boots out of that mess.”
    In a downpour that reduced visibility to only a few hundred feet, the wagons rolled out, with the women slogging along beside them. Long before the nooning period, most of the women had removed their slickers and tossed them into the wagons;