PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S SECRET
Chapter One
Winter 1863
Twelve miles from Wilmington, Delaware
God spoke to Gantter on Tuesday. He thought at first it
was Wednesday, but the Baltimore stage had passed him
on its way to Wilmington, so he knew it was Tuesday. The
people riding in the coach stared at him, disapproving faces,
features plucked from the darkness by the vehicle's running
lamps until distance and the darkness robbed the travelers of
the strange sight of the man that locals called Preacher Jim.
He knew he was the target of derision, and he dragged a trail
of taunting children behind him on his daily crusade up and
down the turnpike. But he was a soldier of God, God's instrument
to warn the wicked of the eternal flames of damnation
and prod the errant back to church. He set out each
morning, long legs carrying a thin chest, spindly arms pumping,
worn jacket and baggy trousers whipping in a stiff wind
that meant nothing to James Gantter.
Especially after Tuesday.
He sat against the thirty-eight-mile marker, digging through
the soiled canvas bag that held beef jerky and five or six apples,
... read full excerpt from: President Lincoln's Secret ebook
