Cracker Justice by Janet Post

Author:Janet Post
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pineapple Press
Published: 2021-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

16

After seeing the path leading into the brush and the moccasin track, Prue decided to ride. It could take him hours following the trail and the tracks through the swamp. And Prue had no doubt it would be a bitch to follow. Moccasin Bob was a devious character and his still was out here somewhere. Protecting it would be a priority, which meant it would be hidden and the paths to it from Bob’s homestead virtually invisible.

Backtracking across the front of the cabin, he listened and heard Berryhill screaming his guts out for Jenny deep in the swamp. That was definitely not the way to go. Wading back to the hammock where he’d left Satan, he found the horse eating Spanish moss off the tree. A long streamer of the gray stuff was tangled in his bit.

“All you think about is yer stomach,” Prue said, snatching the rope off the tree. The horse nodded his head, shaking the moss out of his forelock.

Prue mounted Satan and rode out of the swamp. When he reached dry land, he took off at a gallop, heading southwest. Riding Satan as hard as he dared, he skirted the swamp, hoping he was headed in the right direction. His stomach rumbled and growled and he began to envy Satan his moss.

Familiar landmarks cheered Prue and gave him some hope. Moccasin Wallow appeared close to the track Prue followed. It flowed through a cut filled with scrub oaks, thick willows, briars, and no doubt, snakes. Bob lived in there where the wallow came to an end. Maybe the old man found Jenny. It was his only hope, and he’d staked everything on that hope.

When he reached the cart path leading down to Bob’s place, his stomach began knotting. What if he was wrong? What would he do then? And where else could Jenny be? Dead in that swamp was the only other possibility. And he didn’t want to think about that.

Satan sensed Bob’s place and the other horses and livestock before Prue knew they were getting close. He didn’t have to urge the stallion into a trot. The horse picked up his pace as food and equine companionship beckoned. Prue could just make out the barn when Bob stepped in front of him with a double-barreled shotgun. Both hammers back, it rested across his folded arms.

Bob grabbed Satan’s reins and pulled him up. “I thought you’d never get here. I swear to God I thought I was gonna have to load the little filly up and come get you myself. Where you been, boy? What in the hell is going on?”

Relief flooded Prue. His legs wobbled as he tumbled off Satan and hugged the old man, hanging on with his arms around Bob’s neck. “You have her here? Oh my God, I was never so glad to see a moccasin print in my life as when I saw yours at the edge of the clearing. I almost dropped to my knees and cried then and there. And the owl feather, did you leave that for me?”

“Get off me, boy.

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