PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S SECRET

Chapter One

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