Preacher and the Mountain Caesar Read Online Free PDF

drew Philadelphia’s attention to a knot of men who broke off from the workers, one of them pointing in his direction. Too far off to see details, the former trapper decided to wait them out. When they drew nearer, he noted that the men wore bright red capotes—no, he corrected himself, longer than the ubiquitous mountain man garb, more like cloaks. A horseman joined them.
    â€œOdd-looking fellers,” Braddock advised his mount, while he patted the visibly nervous beast with one hand to calm it.
    When they came even closer, he saw that they wore over-skirts of leather strips studded with brass knobs. Below that, they wore short skirts. For a giddy moment, Philadelphia wondered if they might be sissies. On their heads they had brown, leather-covered pots of some sort. Odder still, he noted, they carried lances and shields, like Injuns. He changed his examination of the approaching men to the one on horseback.
    Wasn’t he a sight! He had an even longer capote, scarlet in color, with shiny brass coverings on his legs, chest and helmet—for that’s what it was, bright red roach of horsehair and all. The polished cheek pieces were shaped something like oak leaves. Then Philadelphia made out another feller, who jogged along behind the horse. He held some sort of long pole with a big metal banner on top. On closer examination, Braddock saw that it was an eagle, with spread wings, head turned in profile, and something written under it.
    Now, old Philadelphia wasn’t too strong on reading, but he could make out his letters as good as any man. These read: S.P.Q.R.
    Within seconds, the rider reined up right close to Philadelphia, rudely crowding his space. He pulled a short, leaf-bladed sword and pointed it somewhere above Braddock’s head. “Hold, there, barbarian!” the man bellowed with all the officiousness of a government man in a swallowtail coat. “What business have you in Nova Roma?”
    From habit, Philadelphia made the plains sign for coming in peace as he spoke. “I was only lookin’ for a place to hole up for winter. An’ I ain’t no barbarian.”
    Glowering, the challenger proved arrogant enough to not need to consult anyone about his opinion. “This is not the place. Unless you bear a scroll of safe passage, you are trespassing on the territory of Nova Roma.”
    Philadelphia’s forehead furrowed. “I ain’t got no paper on me.”
    His interrogator motioned two men forward with his sword as he spoke. “Then you are under arrest. You will be put to work with the rest of the slaves, to build our magnificent city.”
    Philadelphia Braddock did not like that one bit. His eyes narrowed. “Is that so? How long do you reckon I’ll be doin’ that?”
    â€œUntil you prove your worth to be a citizen of Nova Roma.”
    â€œThat long, huh?” Philadelphia followed his first instinct.
    His reins given a turn around the saddle horn, Braddock moved swiftly, hands closing around the handstocks of a brace of .64 caliber Chambers horse pistols. He yanked them free before any of the startled soldiers could react. The muzzles centered on the two closest to him, and he blazed away.
    Loud, flat reports shattered the bird-twittering silence, and twin smoke clouds obscured everything for a moment. His actions served his purpose, Philadelphia observed as the greasy gray mass whipped away on a light breeze. The two who were to arrest him lay on the ground, writhing, shot X-wise through their right shoulders. The footmen had scattered, and the snarling leader had been put to flight.
    â€œAppears to me you need a lesson in manners, fellers,” Braddock told them.
    Satisfied with the results, Philadelphia reholstered the discharged pistols and slid his Hawken rifle free of its scabbard. With a final, careful appraisal of his would-be foe, he turned the head of his mount to the south and started off, away from this inhospitable