Free A Texas Hill Country Christmas by William W. Johnstone

Delta began.
    â€œPreacher,” Dugan said curtly, acknowledging Seth’s presence for the first time. “You’ll never get that wagon out of the mud that way.”
    Seth thought the rancher probably was right, which certainly didn’t improve matters. But stubbornly, he said, “Charlie and I don’t need any help.”
    â€œI reckon we do,” the boy piped up. “This ol’ wagon’s a whole heap stuck.”
    â€œGet out of the way,” Dugan snapped at Seth. “Boys.”
    The ranch hands rode around Seth. A couple of them dismounted and tied ropes to the wagon while the third man went to the head of the team and said, “Let me have ’em, ma’am.” Delta relinquished her hold on the harness and moved aside.
    The two cowboys tied the other ends of the ropes to their saddle horns. One man was on each side of the vehicle. They moved their horses forward until the ropes were taut. They pulled steadily while the man leading the mules urged them on.
    â€œI’ll give you a hand,” Dugan called. He swung down from the saddle and slogged through the mud to the back of the wagon.
    â€œStep back, Charlie,” Seth told the boy. He wasn’t going to let Dugan do this alone.
    â€œI don’t need any help, preacher,” Dugan said with a sneer.
    â€œNeither did I, but you insisted anyway,” Seth shot back. He bent over and braced his shoulder against the wagon as he set his feet. Dugan did likewise. Both of them heaved against the weight and the grip that the mud had on the wheels.
    Slowly but surely, the wagon began to move. Just an inch or two at first, then another and another and then with a loud squelching sound, the mud let go of the wheels and the wagon jolted forward.
    The sudden movement threw Seth off-balance and made him stumble. He caught himself before he fell.
    Felix Dugan wasn’t as fortunate. His feet slipped out from under him, and he sprawled face-first in the mud, landing with a wet slapping sound.
    A laugh burst from Seth’s throat. He couldn’t stop it. That pompous windbag wallowing around in the mud like a hog was the funniest thing he had seen in a long time. Charlie joined in the laughter, too, until his mother said his name sharply to silence him.
    The three ranch hands kept the wagon moving until it reached a stretch of road that wasn’t so muddy. Then the man who had been leading the team let go of the harness and hurried back to where Seth was standing. A few feet away, Dugan sputtered and spit as he tried to push himself up out of the mud.
    The cowboy grated, “Think it’s funny, do you?” as he snatched his coiled lasso off the loop where it was attached to his saddle. He crowded the horse toward Seth and slashed at him with the rope.
    Seth darted out of the way, reached up, and caught hold of the man’s arm. Taken by surprise, the cowboy couldn’t stay in the saddle as Seth heaved on him. He let out a startled yell, turned over in the air, and splashed down into the mud.
    He got up faster than his boss had managed to, and as he came to his feet, rage twisted his features and he clawed at the gun on his hip.
    Delta cried, “Charlie, get away from there!” as she ran toward her son.
    Seth crouched as instinct made his hand move toward his hip. There was nothing there for him to grab, though.
    Dugan had made it to his knees. He yelled, “Andrews! Hold it!”
    The cowboy stopped with his revolver half clear of the holster. He shook with anger and the urge to complete the draw. He said, “Boss, this varmint needs to be taught a lesson! He needs to know he can’t laugh at his betters like that!”
    â€œI agree,” Dugan said as he finished clambering to his feet. “But I’ll be the one to teach him!”
    He clenched his big hands into rock-hard fists, let out a bellow like a maddened bull, and charged toward Seth.

C HAPTER T EN
    Dugan’s men