meeting you, sir.”
“Likewise,” Preacher said, even though he hadn’t really warmed up to Clyde Mallory. Something about the man said that he liked to keep his distance from folks and not get too friendly with them.
Mallory walked back over to the wagons. Laura watched him go and shook her head.
“I apologize for my brother’s behavior,” she said. “Clyde’s been rather short-tempered since he…resigned his commission in the army.”
Her slight hesitation told Preacher that maybe Mallory’s resignation from the British army hadn’t been entirely his own idea. Maybe he’d run into some trouble with a superior officer and been forced to leave.
“He seemed fine to me,” Corliss said. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Laura, which didn’t surprise Preacher all that much. Corliss Hart had an eye for a pretty girl, sure enough, even though he had a mighty good-looking wife of his own. A wife who was with child at that.
But Corliss’s wandering eye was none of Preacher’s business. He came back up onto the porch and said, “I reckon I’d better start gatherin’ those supplies if I’m gonna put some miles behind me ’fore nightfall.”
“You’re leaving?” Laura asked. “But you just got here.”
“Oh, Preacher never stays around here for very long,” Jerome said. “He’s too restless for that. Always on the move, eh, Preacher?”
“I reckon,” Preacher drawled.
But as he thought about the fact that Laura Mallory was going to be here at the settlement in the future, he began to wonder if maybe it was time he stopped bein’ so fiddle-footed…
Chapter 7
Preacher let the Hart cousins talk him into staying overnight again. To tell the truth, they didn’t have to work very hard at it. Until a cabin could be built for Laura Mallory, she would be staying in one of the wagons that had been outfitted for her. She had traveled out here from St. Louis in it, and it would remain her home for the time being.
And those wagons would be parked next to the trading post until Clyde Mallory was ready to take them back east loaded with pelts. Over the past year, many of the trappers in the area had begun trading or selling their furs to the Hart cousins, rather than taking packhorses all the way back to St. Louis or paddling down the Missouri River in canoes. Corliss and Jerome, in turn, had an arrangement with one of the big fur companies to supply pelts. So far they had been doing so on a small scale, but if Mallory’s freight operation was a success, they could expand their own business.
Preacher wasn’t sure why he was making such a fool of himself over Laura. Sure, she was a mighty pretty woman, but he hadn’t been seriously involved with anybody since Jennie…and that relationship had come to a tragic end. Preacher had pretty much sworn off romance ever since then, except for an occasional romp with a willing Indian gal or one of the soiled doves who showed up at Rendezvous.
Of course, it wasn’t like he had announced his intention to pay court to Laura or anything. He hadn’t even paid that much attention to her during the day, choosing to keep his distance instead.
He’d spent his time getting another load of supplies together, buying a packhorse to replace the one that had been killed in the avalanche, and fending off Jake’s efforts to talk him into taking him along when he left. The boy purely hated the idea of going to school once the teacher arrived.
One corner of the trading post’s cavernous main room was where the mountain men congregated to eat, drink whiskey, and swap lies. Bouchard and Jock had pulled out the day before, same as Preacher, so he didn’t have any close friends on hand at the moment. That didn’t bother him. He was used to his own company. He sat there alone in the corner that evening, taking an occasional nip from a jug and wondering if Laura had turned in yet.
As if fate wanted to answer his question, both of the Mallorys walked into the trading post at that moment. Laura still wore the same dark green traveling outfit but not the matching hat. The light from the lanterns shone on her fair hair, making it glow like the sun, Preacher thought.
She spotted him in the corner and smiled, and he thought she would have come over to say hello if Corliss hadn’t intercepted her and her brother and practically dragged them over to the counter in the rear of the room. Deborah and Jerome were there, and all three of the Harts seemed to enjoy the conversation they carried on with the Mallorys. It had been a while since anybody except rough frontiersmen had visited here. Laura and Clyde were even better than fellow Easterners…they were English, Preacher thought as he chuckled to himself.
After a while, though, Laura extricated herself and came over to the corner where Preacher sat. He saw her heading in his direction, and for a second he felt the impulse to cut and run. That wouldn’t look good, though, so he stayed where he was, setting the jug aside and rising to his feet to greet her as she came up to him.
“Howdy, ma’am,” he said gravely. “How are you this evenin’?”
“I’m fine, Preacher,” Laura replied. She nodded toward the barrel chair where he’d been sitting. “Please, don’t inconvenience yourself on my account. Have a seat.”
Instead, Preacher suggested, “Why don’t you take the chair, Miss Mallory? You’ll be more comfortable.”
“Then where will you sit?”
“I’ll just pull up this here keg,” he said. It was more of a barrel and was filled with something heavy, but Preacher wrestled it over into place anyway.
“Preacher, I get the distinct feeling that you’ve been avoiding me this afternoon,” Laura said with an accusing look on her face. “Did I do something to offend or insult you?”
That was the farthest thing from the truth. The reason he’d been steering clear of her was because he didn’t want to try to talk to her and start stumbling over his words like a lovestruck youngster. He was way too old for that.
“Why, no, ma’am, Miss Laura, not at all. I’ve just been a mite busy, that’s all. I had to get some supplies together for when I leave tomorrow.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you decided to stay an extra night anyway. That gives me a chance to get to know you a little better.”
Preacher wasn’t sure why a lady like her would even want to know him at all, but he didn’t say that. Instead, he sort of sat there like a bump on a log until Laura leaned toward him and spoke again.
“Mr. Hart tells me that someone tried to kill you by starting an avalanche. How perfectly dreadful.”
“Well, it ain’t like it was the first time,” Preacher said without thinking. “A couple o’ varmints tried to bushwhack me the day before that.”
“Is life on the frontier always so…violent and unpredictable?”
“It can be,” he said. “You got wild animals and wild Indians both out here, and some mighty bad weather at times, and even some bad men.”
“Highwaymen, you mean? Brigands?”
“Cutthroats and murderers, sure enough,” he told her. “Fellas who’ll steal your pelts and kill you without even blinkin’
