Preacher's Massacre

  “Me?”

  “Of course, you. Step right up, my friend.”

  “I haven’t got anything ailing me, Doc.”

  “Oh, my friend, do you have restless nights? Toss and turn nights?”

  “Naw, I sleep like a log.”

  “Do you ache after a long day on your horse?”

  “Now, you’re talking about Critter, the orneriest critter on four legs. Yes, I’ll allow that I ache some after a long ride on that beast.”

  “Were you out on him today, Sheriff?”

  “Pretty near the whole blasted day, Professor.”

  “Then you must feel weary, right down to the bone.”

  “Well, we were out looking for some blond Ukrainian women who are attached at the hip. They plain disappeared.”

  The crowd got mostly dead silent, and a couple of snickers came from some of them cowboys.

  “I think you are very weary, sir, after a day of searching for blond Ukrainian women. Are you a bit worn?”

  “I am done in.”

  “Well, perfect. I would truly like to have you sample Doctor Zimmer’s Tonic and report the results to all these fine folks.”

  “My ma, she used to say, one drink is enough.”

  “Oh, this is not drink, sir. This is an elixir to balm the soul, elevate mood, celebrate life, and rejoice in your own splendid body. Now how old are you?”

  “I forget; past thirty, anyway.”

  “Ah, the shady side of thirty. Let me tell you, my friend, that is when Doctor Zoroaster Zimmer’s Tonic works wonders the fastest. It works wonders at any age, sir, but especially after thirty.”

  The maestro of this here event reached for a bottle of the stuff, which was sitting on a little shelf with a gold halo around it, so the bottle looked like a saint.

  He sure was smiling. He grabbed that stuff, pulled the cork, and poured a little into a tumbler, handing it to me while all them cowboys and Mayor George Waller watched.

  I remembered what my ma used to say—no guts, no glory—and I downed the stuff in one gulp.

  Well, it took a moment to work through me, like the glow of a lot of fireflies, and then I plumb keeled over. The accordionist caught me going down.

  PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

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  Copyright © 2013 William W. Johnstone

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  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

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  ISBN: 978-0-7860-3107-8