Read Online Preacher and the Mountain Caesar by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online

buzzards and coyotes by now. Being as how they were children, he felt obliged to spare them and bring them to folks who would see to their proper upbringing.
    Although, he had to admit, it might be too late. It was written in the Bible that a child must be made straight in his ways by the age of seven or he was lost to righteousness. It was a hard thing to think of little nippers of eight, nine, ten or eleven roasting forever in hell because they had not been brought up right the first seven years of their lives. That was deeper theology than Preacher had delved into for a long while. He shook the images from his mind and plodded on. Terry and Vickie sat astride the pack saddle frame on a not-too-willing horse.
    â€œWhen we gonna get there?” Terry asked.
    â€œYeah. We’ve never beened there before,” Vickie chirped.
    â€œYou’ve never been there,” Preacher corrected the girl.
    She made a face. “That’s what I said.”
    Preacher calculated the angle of the sun. “We’ll be there by mid-afternoon. Those are the noonin’ cook fires, an’ ol’ Kevin Murphy’s smokehouse you see beyond the rise. He makes the bestest smoked hams. An’ his bacon will melt in your mouth.”
    â€œUgh!” Terry blurted. “I wouldn’t like that. I like to chew mine. Is it spoilt or something?”
    â€œJust a figger of speech. Means that his bacon is delicious. Now, you two quit pullin’ my leg. I’ve got a sudden, bodacious thirst a-buildin’, an’ I figger to tend to it soon as I get you all settled in.”
    â€œWhere are we gonna stay?” Vickie demanded.
    â€œI been over all that before. You’ll go to whoever will take you in.”
    Fear showed in both their faces. “You won’t split us up, will you?” Terry asked nervously.
    It was the first time Preacher had seen such emotions displayed by either, except for when he’d broken up their attack on his person. “I’ll try not. No tellin’.”
    â€œWe won’t go to different folks.” Terry grew stubborn.
    â€œIf you send us, we’ll run away.” Vickie cut her eyes to her brother for confirmation. He nodded solemnly.
    Preacher lost hold of it for a moment. “Dang, can’t you blessit tadpoles ever make things easy for a feller? I can’t guarantee anythin’ because I don’t know what situation we’re gonna come into. Put a rein on them jaws until we get there.”
    Terry and Vickie resumed a sullen, sulking silence. Terry’s pink underlip protruded in a pout. Preacher snorted in disgust.
    * * *
    Preacher reached the trading post at a quarter past two that afternoon. “Tall” Johnson, as opposed to his cousin and partner, “Shorty” Johnson, greeted Preacher from the roofed-over porch of the saloon half of the frontier general store.
    â€œPreacher, you old dog. I heard that you were holed up for the winter.” His eyes widened when he took in the children. “You a fambly man now, Preach?”
    â€œNot for any longer than I can help it, Tall,” Preacher grumbled. “You wouldn’t happen to be in the mood to play father, would you?”
    Tall Johnson wheezed out his laughter. “Shorty would never hear of it. He sees kids as somethin’ like warts. A feller needs to cut them off his hide as soon as possible. Besides, brats needs wimmin. An’ we ain’t got no wimmin. Decent ones, that is. Just a couple of Utes.”
    Preacher faked a disapproving glower. “Utes is ugly, Tall.”
    â€œNot this pair. Now, you just take that back, Preacher, or you buy the first drink.”
    Preacher’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ll not take it back, an’ I’ll be proud to buy you the first drink. Soon’s I get shut of these youngins.”
    Tall Johnson made his point markedly clear. “A feller could die of thirst before that