Brotherhood of Evil by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

Preacher climbed onto the seat of peddler’s wagon and picked up the reins. He still wore his denim trousers, but he had replaced his buckskin shirt with a gray wool one he used as a spare, although he hardly ever wore it. He had donned a jacket as well, first shaking the dust off it since he hadn’t worn it in a couple years. The derby perched on his head.

His clothes weren’t all that was different. Preacher was clean-shaven. He had used his seldom-employed razor and a mirror hanging on the side of the wagon and scraped the thick silvery bristle from his face. He had taken off his gun belt and stowed it in the back of the wagon, although one of the Colts was tucked in the waistband of his trousers where the jacket concealed it.

None of the changes were major, but taken altogether, they created an effect that would make it difficult for most folks to recognize him as the gun-fighting old mountain man he was. At least, he hoped that was true.

He clucked to the team and flicked the reins against their backs, then slapped the lines a little harder when the stolid mules failed to move. Finally, they got going and pulled against their harness. The wagon lurched into motion. Tied behind it trailed the gray stallion and the other two horses, carrying the dead men.

Preacher chuckled to himself as he wondered what Smoke and Matt would think if they could see him. For that matter, he wondered how some of his old friends from the fur trapping days would react. Audie would no doubt have plenty to say. Nighthawk would just look at him, shake his head, and say, “Ummm.”

It was a crazy idea, and Preacher knew it. As a rule, he didn’t give in to such wild notions . . . but every now and then, a hunch came over him, and he played it.

Although he was confident he could have snuck into Big Rock without getting caught, fate had presented him with a way to ride into town as bold as brass and not have the men who had taken over suspect who he was or why he was there. It was a daring plan. Some of the townspeople might recognize him, despite his effort to change his appearance, and accidentally give away his identity, but if he could carry out the masquerade successfully, it might shorten the time needed to find out what was going on in Big Rock.

As he drove toward the settlement, he considered the story he would tell. He didn’t figure anybody would believe that his name was really Isaac Herschkowitz, so he would tell people that was the name of the wagon’s previous owner. It wouldn’t be a lie for him to say that he had bought the wagon from Herschkowitz. That was exactly what had happened.

The rest of the story also had some elements of truth in it. He would claim that he had come

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