Preacher's Quest by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

By the time Preacher and Carling got back to the lodge, the others were awake. Faith rushed up to her brother and threw her arms around him. “My God, Willard!” she exclaimed. “Chester told me you went off to confront that awful Indian! Have you lost your mind? He could have killed you! And all over some stupid paints and canvases!”

Carling stiffened and pulled back from her a little. “Stupid paints and canvases?” he repeated. “I don’t talk that way about your poetry, Faith.”

She fluttered a hand. “Oh, you know I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant you shouldn’t be risking your life like that.”

“I wasn’t risking my life. I was simply letting the chief know that he had no right to throw away my property, and that I wanted it back.” There was a note of pride in Carling’s voice as he added, “And he agreed with me, too.”

Faith’s eyebrows arched. “He did?”

“He most certainly did. He promised that he would send some of his warriors to retrieve my gear. Didn’t he, Preacher?”

“Yep,” Preacher drawled. “You stood up for what was right, Mr. Carling.”

“Please, call me Willard. After all, we’re fellow frontiersmen now, eh?”

Preacher wouldn’t have gone quite that far, but he didn’t see any point in hurting Carling’s feelings. He said, “Sure, Willard.”

Jasper Hodge looked around at the village and said, “Well, now that we’re here, what are we going to do?”

“I’m going to wait until I get my paints and canvases back,” Carling said, “and then I intend to spend at least a week painting.”

Faith sighed. “I suppose I could try to compose some verses about the way these savages live. It’s hardly a fit subject for something as beautiful as poetry, but an artist works with the materials at hand.” She turned to Preacher. “What about you?”

“I figured I’d rest up and let these scrapes and bruises I got heal. After that, I don’t know.” Preacher’s eyes narrowed. “Snell’s still out there somewhere. He’ll be a threat to you folks as long as him and his bunch are around. Besides, I got a score to settle with him, so I may just go lookin’ for him instead o’ waitin’ for him to come to me.”

“You mean you’re going to try to kill him?”

“He’s got it comin’,” Preacher said simply.

“Perhaps,” Hodge said, “but no one declared you judge, jury, and executioner, Preacher.”

Preacher laughed humorlessly. “The nearest judge and jury are back in Saint Looey, Hodge. That’s as far in this direction as the law has gotten. Out here, justice comes from the barrel of a gun.”

“That’s not justice. That’s anarchy.”

“That’s the frontier. Sooner you learn that, the better.”

Hodge shook his head. “I’m a civilized man. I’ll never believe the same way you do, Preacher.”

Preacher shrugged. “I don’t recollect sayin’ that I cared one way or the other whether you believed like me.”

Hodge flushed with anger, but he didn’t say anything else.

The squaws who had been given the task of caring for the guests arrived with food for breakfast, and everyone sat down cross-legged on the ground to eat, even Faith.

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