The sun had just barely crested the horizon when Jacob rolled out of bed. He stretched, then went down on his knees. He knelt, made the sign of the cross, and bowed his head in prayer. It’d be a long day. Next, he went about the business of oiling his guns, sharpening his blade, and polishing his armor. Jacob donned his chainmail coat and strapped on his breastplate. He shrugged on his duster and placed his hat snuggly on his head. He went downstairs.
Charles Goodnight and Father Ryan Comisky sat at the breakfast table sharing coffee. Goodnight’s shotgun was in the corner, within easy reach. They both looked up as Jacob walked in. “Jacob,” Goodnight began, “one of my men rode in just before sunup. Looks like he took up with Chisum’s outfit. He said that from the talk ‘round the fire last night, Chisum’s on the move with his hired guns. Yes sir, you probably done got ‘em spooked.”
Jacob grunted in reply. A possession and a gunfight. Should make for an interesting day. “Any coffee left?”
“On the stove. Cups are in the cupboard,” Father Ryan replied.
“You ain’t worried?” Charles Goodnight asked. From the sound of his voice he was, gruffness and trail hardening aside.
“Not about Jim Chisum,” Jacob replied as he pulled down a cup. “Chisum’s just a man who wants your land, Charles. But a devil’s locked up in your little girl. And it’s gonna be upset when Father Ryan forces him out in the open. Mighty upset. Men like Chisum? They’re kittens compared to that big ol’ mountain cat gonna come tearing out of her. Father, when do you start the sacrament?”
“An hour from now.”
“Charles, about how long of a ride does Chisum have?”
“Depends on how hard he’s pushing his horses. Now, if he left at sunup, which, knowing Jim, he probably did, then we’ll see him around noon. But he’s expecting a fight, so he may be going easy on the men.” Jacob nodded.
“Father Ryan, you mind starting the Exorcism a little late?” Father Ryan frowned. Each hour the girl was kept trapped with that thing inside her was another hour of torment. Jacob took a sip of coffee. “I know it’s not an ideal situation, Father, but it’d go a long way toward helping me out. Mayhaps, it’ll save some lives in the long run.”
“Fine, Jacob. I’ll wait an hour. No more, though.”
“Thank you, Father. Charles, you got extra guns around? Revolvers, rifles, anything?”
“Yes sir, that I do. Some of ‘em are a little old, though, cap and ball. You getting ready for Chisum, then?”
“That I am, Charles,” Jacob took a sip of coffee, “that I am.”
A Knight Templar in Lincoln County (A Jacob Smith Story #1) Page 4