Preacher Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t have it, then we’ll just go on about our business.”
    â€œThat sounds reasonable,” one of the others in the saloon said.
    â€œYeah, if you didn’t take it, just empty your pockets and be done with it.”
    â€œTo hell with that. I ain’t goin’ to empty my pockets just ’cause of some snot-nosed boy’s lie.”
    Harding looked over at Art. “You’re sure about this, are you, Art?”
    â€œI’m sure,” Art said.
    â€œEmpty your pockets,” Harding said. This time his tone was less congenial.
    â€œWait a minute! You are going to take this boy’s word over mine?”
    Harding scratched his cheek. “Yeah, I reckon I am,” he answered easily. “See, here’s the thing, Riley. I don’t know you from Adam’s off-mule. But I do know this boy and he’s already proved himself to me. So if truth be known, I reckon I’d take his word over that of my own mama. Now, either empty your pockets on the table, or by God I’m going to grab you by the ankles, turn you upside down, and empty them for you.”
    â€œThe only thing you are going to empty is your guts,” Riley said, suddenly pulling a knife.
    â€œLook out!” someone shouted.
    â€œHe’s got a knife!” another yelled.
    â€œYeah, I sort of figured that out,” Harding said.
    There was a scrape of chairs and a scuffling of feet as everyone else backed away to give the two belligerents room. Riley held his knife out in front of him, moving it back and forth slowly, like the head of a threatening snake.
    Harding pulled his own knife; then the two men stepped away from the table to do battle. They raised up onto the balls of their feet, then crouched forward slightly at the waist. Each man had his right arm extended, holding his knife in an upturned palm. Slowly, they moved around each other, as if engaged in some macabre dance. The points of the knives moved back and forth, slowly, hypnotically.
    Art watched them. The fight with the river pirates had been deadly, but it had also been quick and spontaneous. This was the first time he had ever seen two men fight face-to-face, each with the grim determination to kill the other. Although he had a vested interest in the outcome—for surely if Riley killed Harding, he would then turn on Art—yet he was able to watch it without fear. He was certain that the day would come when he would find himself in this same situation. Some inborn sense of survival told him to watch closely, and to learn, not only from the victor, but also from the vanquished.
    â€œYou ever seen one of them big catfish they pull out of the river?” Riley asked. “You see the way they flop around when they’re gutted? That’s how it’s going to be with you. I’m going to gut you, then I’m goin’ to watch you flop around.”
    Riley made a quick, slashing motion with his knife, but Harding jumped out of the way. Mistaking Harding’s reflexive action as a sign of fear, Riley gave a bellow of defiance, and moved in for the kill, lunging forward.
    It was a fatal mistake.
    Harding easily sidestepped the lunge, then taking advantage of Riley’s awkward and unbalanced position, counter-thrust with his own knife. Because Riley was off balance, he was unable to respond quickly enough to cover his exposed side. He grunted once as Harding’s knife plunged into his flesh.
    The blade slipped in easily between the fourth and fifth ribs. Harding held it there for a moment, then stepped up to Riley and twisted the blade, cutting-edge up. As Riley fell, the knife ripped him open. Harding stepped back from his adversary as Riley hit the floor, belly-down. Almost instantly, a pool of blood began spreading beneath him.
    â€œBoy,” Cooper said to Art. It wasn’t until that moment that Art and the others in the saloon realized that Cooper was holding a double-barreled shotgun, and had