“His usual nightmares faded slowly, and the sound of church bells mingled with the remembered bellow of cannon fire for long confusing moments. “Caleb? Caleb! I think you ought to wake up.” Ernst’s voice prodded him fully awake finally, and he opened his eyes to find the jackalope perched on the bedside table, staring out the single window. “Something’s happening. Everyone’s running to the church, and the bell is pealing.” “It’s not Sunday. . . .” Caleb pushed himself upright, reaching f...or his shirt. He made a mental note to find out if there was a laundry in town. This shirt was on its last legs, and the one stuffed in his saddlebags was worse. Dressed and armed with both gun and staff, Caleb followed the last of the townsfolk to their church, where a small crowd surrounded a rather shaken-looking family of five. The two little girls clung to their mother’s skirts, and the boy, barely ten, did his best to stand next to his father and look manly.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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