Free Preacher's Justice by William W. Johnstone

say?”
    â€œYes,” Preacher said.
    â€œWhat are you going to do with your string?”
    â€œI don’t know, sell them, board them. I was hoping you would have an idea.”
    â€œI’ll keep your animals for you,” Jeb said. “If you don’t come back by next season, I’ll sell ’em and hold the money for you, after takin’ out what it took me to feed ’em.”
    â€œI appreciate that,” Preacher said.
    â€œNow, what do you say to me’n you go down to the Blue Hole Café and havin’ us some supper?” Jeb offered.
    Preacher smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

SIX
    The enticing aroma of pork cooking over a hickory fire drifted down the street to them even before they reached the café known as Blue Hole. Blue Hole was a wood-frame building with a shake roof and a wide-plank floor. The cooking pit was just behind the building, and the aromatic smoke the cooking produced was the best advertisement the café had.
    A large woman, known as Aunt Molly, greeted the two men when they came into the cafe. “Howdy, Jeb,” she said, smiling at the saloon keeper.
    There was only one empty table, and it was covered with leftover bones, but Aunt Molly led them to it, scooped up the bones, then used a soiled cloth to wipe the table.
    â€œWho’s your young, good-lookin’ friend?” she asked, smiling over at Preacher.
    â€œThis here is Preacher,” Jeb said.
    Aunt Molly looked at Preacher with interest. “Preacher? Are you a man of the cloth?”
    â€œNo, ma’am,” Preacher replied.
    â€œOh, heavens!” Aunt Molly said with an expression that was almost awe. “Are you that mountain man folks call Preacher?”
    â€œThat’s who he is, all right,” Jeb said.
    â€œYou’re getting’ yourself quite a reputation,” Aunt Molly said. “They say you’re the ridin’st, shootin’st, fightin’st, trappin’st, dancin’st, handsomest man in all the mountains.” She switched the handful of gnawed bones from her right hand to her left, then reached out with a greasy palm. “I don’t know about all the rest, but I’ll vouch for the handsome part,” she said. “I’m right pleased to meet you, Preacher.”
    Preacher hesitated but a moment before he took her hand. Her effusive description of him was a little embarrassing, but he knew that she meant well. He extended his hand to hers. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” he said.
    At the next table, two men got up to leave.
    â€œYou gents come back now, you hear?” Aunt Molly called to them.
    One of them grunted in reply.
    â€œWhat have you got that’s good, Aunt Molly?” Jeb asked.
    â€œWe got some ribs just ready to come off,” Aunt Molly replied. “Perhaps you’re a’smellin’ ’em now?”
    Jeb smiled. “The whole town is smellin’ them.”
    â€œWell, I certainly hope so,” Aunt Molly replied with a little laugh.
    â€œTell you what. How ’bout you bring us a side of ribs, some beans, bread, and coffee?” Jeb ordered.
    â€œHelp yourself to the coffee, and I’ll go back to get the ribs,” Aunt Molly said.
    As Aunt Molly headed out back, Jeb walked over to the coffeepot, where he poured two cups. He returned to the table, a steaming mug in either hand.

    Three men were having a conversation at a hitching rail just up the street from the Blue Hole. One was tall, with a very dark, scraggly beard. The other two were somewhat shorter and clean-shaven. They were the two who had just left the Blue Hole.
    â€œYou sure it’s Preacher?” the tall, scraggly-bearded man asked.
    â€œOh, yeah, it’s him all right,” one of the other two said. “I mind seein’ him at a Rendezvous a year or so back.”
    â€œSides which, Jeb’s the one pointed him out. They say Jeb’s known him for a long