The Holy Warrior Read Online Free PDF

painfully, “Got to be honest—don’t believe in God.”
    Greene seemed not to have heard the words, for he simply looked down and said, “I remember well the night you were born, son. I hadn’t eaten a bite except for a piece of mule meat for two days. And cold! Never was a place as cold as Valley Forge in ’77!” His eyes seemed to glow and he clapped his thick hands together. “Then your pa came running up to some of us and hollered, ‘I’ve got me a boy!’ Somehow General Washington heard of it—through Adam, I expect—and I’ll be dashed if he didn’t send enough deer for a whole meal!” He studied the sick man’s face, saying quietly, “Not many men got ushered into this old world by His Excellency, Christmas.”
    “Did that really happen?” Knox asked in awe.
    “Sure did. This boy here met just about all the great ones—though he doesn’t remember it—Lafayette, Von Steuben, Mad Anthony Wayne. They all came calling on Christmas Winslow that winter.”
    Chris lay there, staring up at the square face of Dan Greene.Finally he shook his head. “I don’t seem to have been worth the bother, Reverend.”
    Dan Greene leaned down and patted the thin shoulder with a thick hand. “You’re not finished yet, Christmas,” he replied gently.
    “Can I nurse him, Pa?”
    Knox turned to see the small girl standing in the doorway, an awkward looking child—all legs, arms, blond hair, and huge brown eyes.
    The minister reached out and pulled her close, saying with a laugh, “Be good practice for both of you. This is my daughter, Melissa.”
    “No, I’m Missy,” the girl insisted. She left her father’s side and came over and with one small hand pushed Christmas’s hair out of his eyes. “You won’t be sick long, Mr. Christmas. I’ll get you all well!”
    Christmas Winslow smiled at the child through feverish eyes. “Are you old enough to be a nurse?”
    “I’m eight,” Missy answered. “That’s old enough.” She looked up and said, “I’ll take care of him. You two can go now.”
    Greene laughed and led Knox out of the room. “She’s a prudent one, isn’t she now? Eight years old and runs the house!”
    “I—I don’t know how to thank you, sir!”
    Greene put a friendly hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “God’s not going to waste a man like that, Knox!”

CHAPTER THREE
    “LET THE MOUNTAINS KILL ME!”
    “Never saw a March this mild.” Dan Greene got to his feet, stretched, then glanced at Knox, who was sitting with his head back against the mud-chinked logs, eyes shut and mouth open.
    “What—what’d you say, Dan?” he mumbled. His eyes were red around the edges and his stomach grumbled loudly—so loudly that he flushed with embarrassment at the smile on Greene’s face. “Guess something I ate didn’t agree with me.”
    “You and Christmas both,” Greene answered idly, but there was a note in his voice that made Knox look up quickly. The younger man had learned over the past two months that the bulky minister might move slowly, but there was nothing slow about his mind. Knox realized guiltily that the minister knew that the raw whiskey he and Chris had downed at the tavern in the neighboring town of Little Fork was his problem—not anything he might have eaten. Yet there was no condemnation in Greene’s tone or manner.
    A streak of rebellion ran through Knox; he wanted the preacher to accuse him so that he could defend himself. “Chris and me, we got drunk last night,” he said defiantly.
    “Did you, Knox?”
    The mild answer only irritated the boy more, and he got to his feet, the sudden move sending a blinding pain through his head. It was so severe that he involuntarily grabbed his head with both hands and uttered, “Oh, Lord!” His stomachheaved, and he stood there, struggling to keep from throwing up.
    “Does Christmas feel as bad as you do?”
    The question sent another surge of guilt through Knox, for he knew that his brother’s health was such that