Read Online The Family Jensen by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone - Free Book Online Page A

who had dark hair as long as the woman who’d grabbed Jord’s knife had. Maybe it was braided and put up.
    Red Moccasins walked up and down the line of prisoners, leering at them. He stopped to grab one woman’s hair and jerk her head up so that he could glare into her face. When he came to one with large breasts, he pawed them and laughed. Finally he turned to Lupton and nodded, signifying that he would take the captives in trade.
    A faint rustling sound to Preacher’s left caught his attention. He turned his head in that direction and frowned. The noise continued. It seemed to be about twenty feet away. He tapped Crazy Bear on the shoulder and nodded in that direction. Crazy Bear returned the nod. With less sound than a snake would have made, Preacher crawled through the grass toward the rustling. A wild idea had leaped into his head, and he wanted to see if he was right.
    When he was in position, he lay still and let whoever was skulking through the grass come to him. The growth parted near him. He heard panting and knew it came from both exhaustion and fear. He waited until the woman was right beside him to make his move. She seemed to have no idea he was there, and he knew the ordeal she had gone through had drawn her nerves so tight she would try to scream as soon as he touched her.
    He made sure that when his left hand shot out in the darkness, it closed tightly over her mouth. At the same time, he wrapped his other arm around her and threw himself on top of her so she couldn’t move.
    She bucked underneath him, struggling frantically, but she was no match for his strength. His hand over her mouth prevented her from making any sounds other than a couple of muffled squeaks that wouldn’t travel more than a few feet. Keeping her pinned down, Preacher put his mouth next to her ear and whispered urgently, “I’m a friend! Stop fightin’, lady. I’m here to help you.”
    He repeated it several times before the words finally penetrated her frightened brain. Her struggles eased and then stopped. He went on, “Don’t try to get away, and don’t make a sound. You understand? I’ll let go of you, but you got to promise you won’t yell or jump up.”
    A couple seconds went by, and then the woman nodded.
    “All right,” Preacher said. “I’m gonna take my hand away from your mouth. If you make a racket, you’ll get us all killed, understand?”
    He moved his hand away. She didn’t cry out. She just lay there panting as she tried to catch her breath.
    Then she whispered, “Thank you.” The English words were understandable enough, but they had a heavy accent.
    “I’m gonna get off of you now.” Preacher slid to the ground beside her. While he was lying on top of her, he had felt the long hair that hung down her back. “You’re the gal who grabbed the knife earlier and almost cut Jord Mayhew, ain’t you?”
    More words in that foreign tongue tumbled out of her mouth. Preacher figured she was cussing Jord again. He let her go on for a few seconds before he stopped her.
    “I don’t understand what you’re sayin’, but I know you’re upset and I don’t blame you the least little bit. Did any of those varmints hurt you?”
    “No. Not yet. That big ugly one, Jord, he was the first who tried.”
    “I’m glad you speak some English, ’cause I don’t understand that other jabberin’ you were doin’.”
    “Romany. It is the language of my people. We are…how you say…gypsies.”
    Preacher understood. He had seen gypsies on some of his trips back east in St. Louis and Philadelphia. With their dark hair and eyes and swarthy skin, they reminded him a little of Indians. He had never been around them enough to learn their lingo, though.
    “I’m called Preacher,” he told her. “What’s your name?”
    She hesitated, as if still unsure whether to trust him, then said, “Mala.”
    “Mala. That’s a mighty pretty name. You got any kinfolks in those wagons?”
    “My brother’s wife, Nadia. I was