Read Online A Time for Vultures by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online

Jerusalem because Pilate was her uncle. When our Savior was dragged away to the cross, she laughed at his suffering.”
    Flintlock said, “Quite a story.”
    â€œThere’s more. Lizzie says she will not be allowed to die until she makes amends for her terrible sin.”
    â€œYou should talk to O’Hara. He’s half-Indian and likes all that strange spiritual stuff. Maybe he can make up some kind of potion that will help make Lizzie normal again.”
    â€œYou do think she’s crazy, don’t you?” Biddy said, her eyes searching Flintlock’s face.
    â€œHell, yeah. The little lady’s biscuits ain’t golden brown, lay to that.”
    â€œThen I’ll take care of her,” Biddy said. “For the rest of her life if need be.”
    â€œMaybe you should find her another line of work,” Flintlock said. “The profession she’s in sure don’t fit her pistol.” He saw Biddy shiver. “You’d better get inside out of the night chill.”
    The woman nodded and stepped into the saloon. Flintlock looked around. Satisfied that the street was empty, he followed her.
    * * *
    In the darkness of the narrow alley between the saloon and a shoe store, O’Hara stood with his back to a wall, his dark face troubled. Was there a sin so heinous, so wicked that it could never be forgiven? He remembered the monks at the mission where he’d been raised and wished he could ask them that question. He looked up at the sky but saw no answer there, only the distant, uncaring stars as expressionless as holes in a tin roof.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Riding over the flattened buffalo grass that marked the trail the Stantons had taken to Happyville, Flintlock and O’Hara followed the loops toward the timberline in the distance. The sun was low on the horizon, rising into a flaming sky streaked with jade and amber. The morning was cool and the breeze hinted at the coming fall. The fair land had banished the night shadows and was ready to welcome the new aborning day.
    â€œFlintlock, you really didn’t need me to read this trail,” O’Hara said. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
    â€œI needed an Injun to help me wrangle the horses,” Flintlock said. “And I’d be grateful if you’d keep my nose out of any further discussions.”
    â€œIt troubles you, huh?”
    â€œIf it was yours, wouldn’t it trouble you?”
    â€œNot in the least,” O’Hara said. “That there is a beak, a proboscis, a snout, a honker, a hooter, and a schnozzle, better yet, a schnozzola. Man should be proud of a nozzle like that. Yes sir.”
    â€œLet me ask you a question, O’Hara. Do you mind?”
    â€œAsk away, Sammy.”
    â€œHow would you like me to pull my gun and shoot you right off the back of that pony?”
    â€œA bit grouchy this morning, are we?”
    â€œI’m always grouchy when people discuss my nose. They are usually impolite and lowdown.”
    â€œSorry Sam. I won’t mention your smeller again.” O’Hara shook his head. “But I never noticed until I saw the morning light shine on it just how big it really is.”
    â€œInjun, you’re playing with fire,” Flintlock said. He kneed his horse into a canter.
    O’Hara followed, grinning.
    * * *
    The Stantons had staked out the stolen horses on a patch of rocky ground where the grass was thin. Flintlock and O’Hara released the hungry animals and let them graze. To the joy of both men, a full pot of coffee stood among the dead coals of the campfire. O’Hara soon had a fire going with the pot in the middle of it.
    As they drank the coffee, O’Hara stared at Flintlock for long moments before he said, “I heard you talking to Biddy Sales last night.”
    â€œHell, I didn’t see you.”
    â€œI know. I’m half Injun,