“Preacher said, sitting by the fire with a blanket wrapped around him. He sipped coffee and giggled. “I ought to shoot you, Preacher,” Sparks said. Preacher giggled. “What are you doing up here, Preacher?” Jamie asked. “Roamin’ around. Skirrin’ growed-up men by actin’ like the boogy man.” “You been through this country a-fore, Preacher?” Sparks asked. “I’ve skirted it a time or two. But I ain’t never traveled east to west all the way through. Been aimin’ to do it, though. You boys game?” “That’s... why we’re here,” Jamie said. Preacher was oddly silent for a few moments. So still and quiet that Sparks finally asked, “Something wrong, Preacher?” Preacher slowly nodded his head. “Yeah. I ain’t gonna say it ain’t never been done, ’cause it has. But winter is nigh, boys. We get trapped in there, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.” Jamie smiled. “Then we’d better get going, hadn’t we?” The trio of men were days deep into mostly unexplored wilderness (by white men) before Sparks started looking back over his shoulder and muttering to himself.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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