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

taunted, having not the least interest in pursuing the salacious topic he had introduced. He merely wanted a means of verifying the boy’s truthfulness.
    â€œThey—they really weren’t that mean until they got lost and ran short on food. One time they made us rob a cabin that the folks were away from. Another, they offered to sell us to some Injuns.” Preacher noted that Terrance would not look him directly in the eye. The boy’s own pale blue orbs shifted nervously as he related his tales of horror.
    After half an hour of what Preacher considered the largest collection of fibs he had heard in a long time, during which Terrance continued to stuff himself with venison ham, the lad’s eyelids began to droop. Preacher took advantage of that to hustle them off to bed.
    â€œTime to turn in, I’d say. Snow’ll be down enough by midday, so we can head out. You’d best roll up an’ get some sleep.”
    Yawning, they agreed. Preacher saw them settle in, then curled up in his blankets, a thick buffalo robe over the top. After the day’s ordeal, sleep came quickly and went deep. Well into the night, when everyone should have been sound asleep, Preacher heard some creaking from the twin bunks across the room. He breathed deeply and turned his head that way in time to see two small, naked forms rushing swiftly toward him. It quickly became obvious they intended to subdue and rob him. The larger of the pair competently held a long, thin-bladed knife.

4
    Although loath to harm children, Preacher had to fight for his life. For all her frail build and small size, Vickie turned out to be a wildcat. Scratching and biting were her game. She raked Preacher’s left cheek with bitten nails, hardly long enough to break the skin. She bit him in the shoulder when he attempted to throw her off him. Screaming a blue string of obscenities Preacher doubted she knew the meaning of, she kicked him in the ribs with a bare toe.
    For all of Vickie’s ferocity, Terry proved the greater danger. The knife he wielded flicked through the air an inch from Preacher’s eyes, then whipped downward, a hairbreadth from the skin over his ribs.
    â€œDammit!” Preacher roared. “What’s got into you? Leave be. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
    â€œWe want it all, everything you’ve got,” Terry shrieked.
    Preacher grabbed his wrist behind the hilt of the knife and bent the arm away with ease. Vickie kicked Preacher in the groin. Hot pain exploded through Preacher’s body He gave a shake to Terry and flung the boy across the cabin. The kid cried out when he struck the rickety table and sent it crashing to the floor. He quickly followed while Preacher came to his feet.
    Small pebbles bit into the bare soles, and Preacher was thankful that he wore moccasins most of the summer and spent time barefoot. Vickie came at him again. She bit him on the belly, just above the drawstring top of his long john bottoms.
    â€œOuch! Don’t do that, dammit,” he barked.
    Preacher’s thumb and forefinger found the nerves at the hinge of Vickie’s jaw and pressed firmly Her mouth flew open, and he yanked her off her feet. She instantly began to kick. Sighing away the last fragment of any regret, Preacher began to administer to her a solid, tooth-rattling shaking.
    It reduced the slender girl to hysterical tears in a matter of seconds. He gave her a single, hard swat on her bare bottom and hurled her onto the upper bunk across the room. “Now, you stay there, hear?” he growled.
    Preacher turned in time to see Terry lunge at him. He sidestepped and smacked the youngster alongside the head. Stunned, Terry lost his grip on the knife. Preacher yanked Terry high in the air and shook him until sobs nearly choked the boy. With them both relatively calmed, Preacher lighted his lantern and sat them, draped in blankets, at the table.
    â€œSomeone goin’ to tell me what that was all