Audie sighed with a nod. “It’s a conundrum, all right, but there’s one thing we can be sure of.”

  “Yeah,” Preacher said. “The answers are waitin’ up there somewhere ahead of us.”

  Preacher was confident now that he and his companions were being watched as they continued riding northwest toward Emerald Creek the next day. Mack Ozark’s men were out there keeping an eye on them, but they probably wouldn’t do anything unless Preacher and the others turned back.

  Why would they come out in the open when Preacher, Audie, and Nighthawk were taking those babies right where Mack Ozark wanted them to go?

  A showdown with Ozark was inevitable—and the odds would be against them, Preacher knew. They would fight that battle when it came, though, taking it head-on just as they had faced every other danger they had encountered in the past.

  Because of the way the situation had developed, no one else tried to stop them on their journey, just as Preacher expected. Six days after leaving Dutch Charley’s, Preacher, Audie, and Nighthawk reined in at the top of a hill and looked across the beautiful landscape in front of them.

  Snow-capped peaks rose in the distance, but closer lay an inviting terrain of wooded hills and broad valleys carpeted with lush grass and colorful wildflowers. Thick stands of evergreens looked like dark cloaks draped over shoulders formed by the hills.

  Audie pointed at a line of vegetation snaking its way through one of the valleys.

  “That’s Emerald Creek,” he said. “I remember it from the last time we came through this area.”

  Nighthawk grunted and nodded in agreement.

  “Is there a particular place along the creek those star garnets come from?” Preacher asked. “Or can you find them just anywhere in these parts?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Audie replied with a shake of his head. “All I’m sure of is that I’ve heard people say they found such stones along Emerald Creek.”

  Preacher thought it over and then said, “We’ll follow the creek north and see what we come to, unless you fellas have some good reason for goin’ the other way.”

  “When you don’t know where your true destination lies, one way is as good as the other, isn’t it? Philosophically speaking, I mean.”

  “I reckon.” Preacher nudged Horse into motion. “Let’s go.”

  They reached the creek in late afternoon and decided to go ahead and make camp for the night. While Preacher was tending to the horses and Nighthawk gathered wood to build a fire, Audie took Apollo and Artemis out of their cradleboards and found a good place on the bank for the babies to lie. Both infants seemed to be in a good mood, gurgling, waving their arms, and kicking their feet, but of course that could change in the blink of an eye, and they could start wailing furiously in discontent.

  Preacher could see them from the corner of his eye as he unsaddled Audie’s horse. For a moment, he didn’t fully comprehend what he was witnessing as Apollo rolled over, pushed himself up on hands and knees, rocked back and forth for a few seconds, and then began crawling toward the creek. Audie had turned away and hadn’t noticed what the little boy was doing.

  “Audie!” Preacher exclaimed. He pointed. “Grab that kid!”

  Audie jerked around, his eyes widening as he spotted Apollo approaching the stream. The infant was moving faster than it seemed like he ought to be able to. Audie yelped in alarm and scrambled after him.

  “Wait just a blasted minute, lad!” Audie bent down and grabbed Apollo’s diaper just before the baby toppled off the bank’s edge into the water. He picked up the baby and held him securely. “What in the world do you think you’re doing? How long have you been able to crawl like that?”

  Preacher and Nighthawk joined Audie. “The way he was scurryin’ along, it sure didn’t look like that was the first time he’d been up crawlin’ around,” Preacher commented.

  “It certainly didn’t. And yet, every time I’ve left them somewhere, they’ve been right there when I came back. It’s not like I’ve left them unattended, either. Anytime I haven’t been very close by, one of you fellows has been watching them.” Audie laughed, shook his head, and tickled Apollo under the chin. “But you were definitely a speedy little devil just then. I’m going to have to keep an even closer eye on you from now on.”

  “Let’s just hope he ain’t already taught his sister how to do that,” Preacher said.

  “I’ve seen no signs of Artemis crawling yet—but I didn’t expect Apollo to go trotting off like that, either!”

  With that potential catastrophe narrowly averted, the men continued setting up camp. As he went about the chores, Preacher sensed that he was being watched. It was a common feeling these past few days. Would Mack Ozark’s men launch another attack? Or would they wait to see what Preacher and his companions were going to do?

  As usual, they had to remain alert and be ready for trouble at any moment. A guard would be posted all night, as always.

  It was Preacher’s turn to take the first shift. After Audie had fed the children their supper, changed their diapers, and gotten them settled down to sleep, he and Nighthawk stretched out on either side of the babies and rolled up in their blankets. Like most frontiersmen, they possessed the ability to fall deeply and completely asleep almost as soon as their eyes closed, whenever they got the chance.

  Preacher moved a short distance away from the dwindling campfire, sat down to prop his back against a tree trunk, and made sure not to look into the flames even though they were dying down. He kept his attention focused on the shadows surrounding the camp. That would keep his night vision as keen as possible.

  Dog lay down on the ground beside him, head resting on his paws in front of him.

  An hour or more had passed before Preacher heard something that made him sit up straighter. The night was so quiet he had been able to hear birds flitting around in the trees and small animals rustling in the brush, but this was different. It was a heavier sound, the rasp of a misplaced foot, followed by what might have been a sharp intake of breath as whoever was skulking around out there realized he might have made a misstep.

  Preacher didn’t make a sound, and as Dog stirred, he rested his hand on the big cur’s head to keep him quiet. He knew the shadows were so thick around them that they couldn’t be seen. He stayed where he was and waited, thinking his lack of a response might draw the stranger in farther. If this was one of Mack Ozark’s men stalking them—and Preacher couldn’t think of who else it could be—he might get another chance to interrogate a prisoner and find out more about Ozark’s connection with those babies.

  From where Preacher sat, he could see the blanket-wrapped shapes between the slumbering Audie and Nighthawk. Audie had stacked a barricade of small stones around Apollo and Artemis so that if either of them tried to crawl off, they would knock the stones over and make a noise. That would bring Audie and Nighthawk awake instantly.

  More time dragged by, and then Preacher felt the rumble as a growl began to build in Dog’s throat. He pressed down harder on the big cur’s head and breathed, “Shhh.”

  Dog didn’t make any noise, but Preacher could feel how tense his muscles were. Dog was ready to spring into action. More than ready—he was eager to do battle.

  A shadowy figure appeared, moving from the trees into the open area along the bank where the group had made camp. It stole closer. Preacher couldn’t make out any details except that the intruder wasn’t overly tall and was rather thick-bodied.

  The mountain man leaned down and whispered, “Stay,” in Dog’s ear. Then he came to his feet, uncoiling to his full height without any sound. The intruder was only a few steps away from Audie and Nighthawk now.

  Preacher dived forward, tackling the man and knocking him to the ground.

  The intruder yelled in surprise and alarm as he fell. Preacher landed on top of him and grabbed his hair to jerk his head back. If he’d had a knife in his other hand, he would be in perfect position to cut the intruder’s throat. But that wasn’t what Preacher wanted right now, so he looped his left arm around the man’s throat instead and locked it into place. His knee dug painfully into the intruder’s back as Preacher put pressure on him and bent him backward.

  The man made gurgling sounds and writhed in Preacher’s grasp, but he was no match for the mountain man’s strength. Hearing the commotion, Audie and Nighthawk were awake instantly and came out of their blankets clutching weapons, ready to fight. Audie brandished a brace of flintlock pistols while the Crow warrior was armed with his tomahawk and knife.

  “It’s all right, boys,” Preacher said. “I got this one, and it seems like he’s the only one skulkin’ around.”

  “One of Ozark’s men, no doubt,” Audie said as he came over to the spot where Preacher knelt on the intruder.

  That made the prisoner grunt harder as he tried to force words past the iron grip of Preacher’s arm across his throat. He struggled even more but had no chance of breaking loose.

  Audie kept his pistols ready and scanned the trees in case of more menace lurking there. Nighthawk was equally alert.

  “Dog, hunt,” Preacher told the big cur. If anybody else was around, Dog would find them in a hurry. With that done, Preacher turned his attention to the man he had captured. He said, “I’m gonna let up a mite so you can talk, mister, but don’t try to yell for help or pull any other tricks. You won’t like what happens if you do.”

  Preacher eased his grip and took his knee out of the prisoner’s back. The man lifted his head and gasped for breath, gulping down air he hadn’t been able to get while Preacher was holding him.

  When he had recovered somewhat, he struggled to say, “I … I don’t work … for Mack Ozark!”

  The words were in English. Preacher had already decided, based on the long hair slick with bear grease and worn in braids, as well as the buckskin clothing he had felt, that the prisoner was an Indian. That didn’t mean the fella wasn’t one of Ozark’s men.

  But the voice sounded young, and that seemed strange to Preacher. Every one of Ozark’s men he had laid eyes on so far had been in his twenties or older.

  This one didn’t sound like much more than a kid.

  “Stir up the fire and get us some light,” Preacher said. Nighthawk moved quickly to do that. Preacher maintained his grip on the prisoner as the flames began to take hold and dance again, but he wasn’t holding on as tightly now.

  When the fire was big enough to cast a circle of light around it, Preacher let go completely and stepped back. His hands dropped to the butts of the Colts in case he needed them, but he saw quickly that that wouldn’t be necessary.

  The prisoner rolled over onto his back and lay there with his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath and recover from being tackled. The flickering glare of the firelight washed over his round face and revealed that he was indeed young—no more than fourteen or fifteen, Preacher judged.

  The stranger might still be a threat despite his youth. “Who are you,” Preacher demanded, “and why in blazes were you sneakin’ around our camp?”

  The young man pushed himself up on an elbow and then struggled to sit up all the way, grunting with effort as he did so. His buckskin shirt was tight across his ample belly.

  “I … I heard there were strange white men coming this way,” he said when he had caught his breath.

  “Umm,” Nighthawk said sharply.

  “Strange white men and a Crow warrior,” the youth corrected himself hastily. “And that you have two babies with you.” A stricken look came over his face. “That’s not true, is it? You didn’t bring them back here? Tell me you didn’t bring them back here!”

  “Tell us who you are and what your connection is to all of this, and then perhaps we’ll share some of our information with you,” Audie said.

  “My name is—” He pronounced a name in the Flathead tongue that Preacher couldn’t translate despite his familiarity with the language.

  Nighthawk understood it, though. He rumbled, “Little Bear,” and then let out a grunt to show that he was amused.

  “Yes, that’s right, Little Bear,” the prisoner agreed. He didn’t sound as if he cared for the name all that much.

  “All right, Little Bear,” Preacher said. “You still claim you don’t work for Mack Ozark?”

  “Of course I don’t work for him! I don’t have anything more to do with the man than I have to.” He stared defiantly at the men for a moment, but then his gaze dropped, and he went on in a subdued tone, “Jonathan was my friend. Annie is my friend. I would never betray them by throwing in with a … a monster like Mack Ozark!”

  “I reckon maybe we’re in agreement about what sort of fella this Mack Ozark is,” Preacher said. “But who are Jonathan and Annie?”

  Little Bear frowned. “You truly don’t know who they are?”

  “Never heard of ’em.”

  Little Bear raised a hand and pointed at Apollo and Artemis, who still slept securely in their blankets.

  “Jonathan and Annie Collins are the parents of Edward and Elizabeth there,” he told Preacher, Audie, and Nighthawk. “Or rather, I should say they were the parents of those little ones.”

  CHAPTER 11

  A grim silence filled the air around the campfire for a moment after the young Indian’s statement.

  Then Preacher said, “You mean they’re dead? The babies’ folks are dead? They’re orphans?”

  Little Bear shook his head. “You’re making me all confused. Jonathan is dead, but Annie is still very much alive. At least, she was a few days ago, the last time I saw her.”

  Audie said, “The children’s names are actually Edward and Elizabeth? We’ve been calling them Apollo and Artemis.”

  “After the figures from mythology?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Preacher asked. “From your hair and the way you’re dressed, you look like a Flathead, but you talk like a white man.”

  “I am Salish,” Little Bear responded with a note of pride in his voice. “But Annie taught me how to speak English and let me read her books. Jonathan always made sure she had plenty of books. She loves to read, and … and I do, too.”

  “I don’t think this young man means us any harm, Preacher,” Audie said.

  “I don’t,” Little Bear said. “I just wanted to find out if what I heard about the twins is true.” He shook his head. “Now I know it is, but I wish it wasn’t. You shouldn’t have brought them back here.”

  Preacher thought for a moment and then nodded. “You can move on up by the fire,” he told Little Bear. “I reckon we’ve got some talkin’ to do, and we might as well be comfortable while we do it.”

  The young Indian got to his feet, came closer to the fire, and sat down cross-legged beside it. Preacher and Nighthawk sat down flanking him while Audie said, “I’d better check on Apollo and Artemis, although they seem to be sleeping soundly.” He shook his head. “Calling them Edward and Elizabeth is going to take some getting used to.”

  Little Bear said, “It sounds strange to me when you call them Apollo and Artemis—although I have to admit, the names do seem to fit them pretty well.”

  “First of all,” Preacher said, getting down to business, “what’s your connection with Mack Ozark?”

  “I don’t have any connection with him. Well, not really. My people trade with him sometimes. Our village isn’t far from his compound. We provide Ozark and his men with fresh meat in return for some of the goods they have.”

  Little Bear scowled as he continued, “Some of our young women have gone to the compound and been forced to stay there. They shamed themselves by going in the first place, but they believed the promises of the white men.”

  “Ozark’s got hisself a whole compound, does he?” Preacher said.

  “Yes. Cabins for the men, a stable and corral for their horses, a blacksmith shop, a smokehouse, and some storage buildings. There’s even an actual house where Ozark lives. There are more than a dozen buildings in all, with a stockade wall around them to make the place easier to defend—although no one would dare attack it.”

  “Where do you suppose Ozark gets the goods your people trade for?”

  Little Bear’s scowl deepened. “I know he and his men steal them and probably kill many of the people they rob. The men often talk freely around me. Some of them know I understand their tongue, but they see an Indian and they forget to be cautious. I’ve heard them talk about attacking wagon trains and robbing trading posts and ambushing caravans of freight wagons farther south along the Santa Fe Trail. They’ll ride hundreds of miles to carry out their evil plans, if they believe they’ll make enough money to make it worthwhile.”

  “They sound like a pretty bad bunch,” Preacher said. “That matches up with the stories we’ve heard about ’em. But where do this fella Jonathan Collins and his wife come into the deal?”

  “Jonathan Collins was the leader of the gang before Mack Ozark.”

  That flat statement made Preacher, Audie, and Nighthawk glance at each other in surprise.

  Audie said to Little Bear, “You mean the father of those two children was an outlaw?”

  “Yes, he was. There’s no getting around that fact. I’d like to think he wasn’t as ruthless and vicious as Ozark, but I don’t really know that. He led the gang for several years. He was in charge when Ozark joined them down in Kansas.”

  Preacher said, “I reckon Ozark must’ve worked his way up to takin’ over the gang.”

  Little Bear nodded. “That’s what happened. Jonathan trusted Ozark with more and more responsibility as time went on. That was a mistake. I suppose Jonathan never thought that Ozark would turn on him and overthrow him as the leader. But once Ozark had gained enough support from the other men, that’s exactly what he did.” The young Indian sighed. “Jonathan never expected that betrayal.”

  “Ozark killed him, I suppose,” Audie said.

  Little Bear shook his head and said, “No, even worse. He made him a prisoner. Tortured him. Humiliated him. We all thought he would kill Jonathan, but by the end, the few friends he had left wished that Ozark would just go ahead and put him out of his misery.”