Free The First Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Page B

morning, Jack Harris rode in. He was so strong-appearing and full of confidence. We practically had to beg him to take on the job of guide.”
    â€œWhere was your wagon master?”
    â€œWhy ... I don’t suppose we had one.”
    â€œJust how much beggin’ did y’all have to do ’fore Jack agreed to sign on?”
    â€œWell, actually, not very much.”
    â€œI thought not. Well, let’s fix some vittles and eat up. We got to push hard come the mornin’. There’s some damn rough country ahead.”
    * * *
    They crossed the Yellowstone and Preacher took them straight west. He took them over the Divide and headed for the Snake. By now, he knew that Bum and his boys would have circled the small range in which the cave was located. They would pick up their trail and be hard on it.
    â€œBy the Lord!” Edmond exclaimed one frosty morning in the high country. “This land is exhilarating!”
    â€œDoes that mean you like it?” Preacher asked.
    â€œMy word, yes!”
    â€œYou ain’t thinkin’ of settlin’ here, is you?”
    â€œWe’ve discussed it,” Melody said sweetly. “After all, savages are savages, whether on the west coast or here. Of course, we shall have to push on to deliver the monies. But we think we shall return to this wonderful and primitive land.”
    â€œIs that a fact?” Preacher’s words were glumly spoken.
    â€œYes!” she said brightly. “Aren’t you excited with the news?”
    â€œI can tell you truthful I am purt near overcome.”
    â€œI knew you would be ... darling,” she added softly.
    Preacher felt like he was standing in quicksand, and slowly sinking. Movement caught his eyes. He looked up. First time in his life he was happy to see a band of Indians.

7
    â€œRelax,” Preacher said. “They’re Bannocks. I know that brave in the lead. His name is Bad Foot.”
    â€œBad Foot?” Edmond said. “Why would anybody name a child that?”
    â€œProbably ’cause he was borned with a club foot. Sometimes that’s the way Injuns name their young. If I knowed y’all better I’d tell you a story about a brave I knowed once called Two Dogs Humpin’.”
    â€œPlease don’t,” Penelope said quickly.
    â€œSounds like a delightfully naughty story,” Melody said, her eyes bright.
    â€œI’m sorry I brung it up,” Preacher said, getting to his feet and making the sign of ’Brother’ to the Indian on the lead pony.
    Preacher began speaking to the brave in his own tongue, Snake. Bad Foot grinned and nodded his head and began rubbing his belly.
    â€œThey been buffler huntin’,” Preacher explained. “And they gonna give us some steaks. We got some mighty fine eatin’ comin’ up, folks.”
    â€œAsk him if he’s ever heard of God,” Edmond said, digging in his pack for one of the many small Bibles he’d salvaged from the wagon train ambush.
    â€œAsk him yourself. He speaks pretty good English. I’s just bein’ polite speakin’ his tongue.”
    Edmond approached the Indian cautiously, holding a Bible in his hands. Bad Foot stood smiling at him. Edmond held out the Bible and Bad Foot took it.
    â€œThank you,” the Indian said. “My woman thanks you. She will take it as soon as I return to the lodge. She will use it much more than me.”
    Edmond’s face brightened as he watched Bad Foot finger the pages. “Your, ah, woman is a Christian?”
    The others wondered why Preacher was laughing so hard he had to sit down on the ground, holding his sides.
    â€œNo Christian. I take all Bibles offered me.”
    â€œShe studies them? My word. We’ve got to return and live with this tribe.”
    â€œStudies? No study. Can’t read. Pages thin. Make good ass wipe.”
    * * *
    They stopped early that afternoon. Preacher wanted to get the