Preacher's Assault

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Independence, Missouri, was a place most folks visited solely in order to leave. The route people had recently started to call the Oregon Trail began there, and already hundreds of wagons carrying immigrants had traversed it, heading to the Pacific Northwest where those settlers would make their new homes.

Independence was also where the Santa Fe Trail began, but the wagons that followed that path weren’t loaded down with immigrants. Instead, they were packed with trade goods bound for the markets of Santa Fe, in Mexican territory. A few settlers made that trip, too, but the Mexican government discouraged immigration in favor of commerce. When the wagons made their return journey to the States, they would be filled with Mexican gold and silver.

Like most people who went to Independence, the man called Preacher didn’t intend to stay long. But as he stared down the barrel of a pistol, he wondered if he was going to be staying in Independence from now on, probably in an unmarked grave. “Take it easy there, hoss,” he drawled in his gravelly voice. “I ain’t lookin’ for trouble.”

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