Blood on the Divide Read Online Free PDF Page A

the survivors. It wasn’t that hard to do. A piece of thread, a tore-off bit of dress that had snagged on a branch, a strand of blond hair hooked on a twig . . . all these things were easy to follow if a body knowed how, and Preacher knew how.
    He finally concluded that there was six kids and one growed-up woman. Three boys, three girls, and one woman. Alone in the Big Empty, probably without even a weapon of any kind, and no flint to start a fire, for he hadn’t found any sign of old ashes.
    The renegades who attacked the train – and they were renegades, for he’d found several bodies – were long gone. Preacher had made sure of that before he started totin’ off the dead. Red Hand’s bunch, he was sure.
    â€œDamn that renegade bastard!” Preacher said. “I just keep runnin’ into that bad Injun.”
    Preacher found where the small party of survivors had stripped off berries and gobbled them up right then and there. He had to smile. He’d be catchin’ up with them ’fore long. These berries would give a body the rear-end squirts real quick, and a belly-hurt, too. But Preacher knew how to fix that, once he caught up with them. Rhubarb was good, and so was honey. Dandelion was pretty good and chamomile was good for the bellyache.
    But first he had to find them that got away. And then that very thought sobered him as he muttered, “What the hell am I gonna do with them?”

T HREE
    Preacher spotted the group and hunkered down in the brush, taking a slow and careful look around to be certain that no renegades were using them as bait.
    Then he stood up and the small group spotted him. Before he could open his mouth, the girls started screaming and shrieking to high heaven and the boys started chunking stones at him. They must have had quite a pile of them. The air was filled with stones of various sizes. Preacher hit the ground.
    â€œWait a minute!” he hollered. “Damnit, I’m here to help you. Stop throwin’ them rocks at me.”
    The stone barrage ceased and Preacher carefully got to his feet and cautiously moved forward, not wanting to get conked on the bean by an apple-sized stone, for these people were still some bad scared.
    â€œI found what was left of the wagon train,” he called, approaching the group. “I done my best to bury the dead.”
    â€œI saw you back at the fort,” a boy said. “You’re the mountain man called Preacher. Mr. Larrabee said you were famous.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know about that,” Preacher replied. He looked at the group. Boys and girls about the same age. Ten to twelve, he figured. The woman was a looker. Maybe twenty-one or -two years old. Fine figure of a female, mussed up hair, dirty face, and all. Poked out in all the right places. Defiant type, too, for she met his appraising eyes with no blinking. “Come on. I found horses back yonder and corralled ’em. I found food that wasn’t touched by the Injuns – ”
    â€œIt wasn’t just red Indians,” the woman said. “There were whites among them.”
    â€œThat don’t surprise me none, missy. The Pardee brothers probably hooked up with Red Hand like Bum and his boys done last year. I killed Bum and his bunch; should have tracked Red Hand down and kilt him too. Sorry I didn’t now. I will this time, you can bet on that. You kids line up and stay behind me. Sister, you bring up the rear and don’t let none of these babies stray off. Come on.”
    It was not far back to the ruins of the wagon train, only a few miles, and Preacher set an easy pace because he could see the group was very tired. “What’s your name, sister?” Preacher called over his shoulder.
    â€œBetina. Betina Drum.”
    â€œYou lose family in the attack?”
    â€œNo. I was traveling with a family, but they were no relation to me.”
    â€œYou ain’t got no man?”
    â€œI’m