Preacher's Justice by William W. Johnstone

her.”
    â€œThanks. Where in the cemetery will I find her grave?”
    â€œI don’t even need to tell you that. You’ll find her easily enough,” Ashley said.
    Preacher looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThe cemetery is just down at the end of the street here. Go on down there and look for yourself. You’ll see what I’m talking about,” he said mysteriously.
    â€œMay I leave this here?” Preacher asked, taking the roll from his shoulder.
    â€œYes, of course,” Ashley said, taking the roll from Preacher and putting it down behind the counter. “Go visit Jennie’s grave, then come on back. We’ll have dinner at Chardonnay’s.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Leaving the shop, Preacher started down the street toward the cemetery, wondering what Ashley meant when he said he wouldn’t have any problem locating Jennie’s grave.
    As soon as Preacher reached the gate to the cemetery, he saw what Ashley was talking about. There, on the far side of the cemetery under a spreading maple tree, he saw a familiar-looking dog lying on one of the graves.
    â€œDog?” Preacher called.
    Dog raised his head. Then, seeing Preacher, he bounded across the cemetery toward him. Preacher dropped down on one knee. When Dog reached him, Preacher began rubbing him on the head and behind his ears, one of which, he noticed, was only half an ear. In addition, there were half-a-dozen scars on the dog’s head and body.
    â€œIs that Jennie’s grave over there?” Preacher asked.
    Whether in sorrow or shame for having failed in his duty, Dog lowered his head.
    â€œI’m not accusing you, Dog,” Preacher said quietly. “From the looks of you, you did all that you could. Come on, take me to see Jennie.”
    With Dog leading the way, Preacher followed through the cemetery until he reached Jennie’s grave. Dog lay down. Putting his nose between his paws, he looked up at Preacher, sharing his grief.
    Preacher read the inscription:

    Precious Flower,
Divine providence hath seen fit to pluck thee
from this earth
and transplant thee to the garden of Eden
where a more fitting abode awaits thee.
Cherished one,
As long as blood flows through the veins
of the hand that pens these lines,
Thy memory shall be kept ever green.
Gone but not forgotten,
Carla

EIGHT
    â€œYou found Dog, I see,” Ashley said when Preacher returned with the dog several minutes later.
    Preacher sat in a chair, tipped it back against the wall, and began rubbing Dog behind his ears.
    â€œYes,” he said.
    â€œDid you see the inscription on the tombstone?”
    â€œI saw it.”
    â€œCarla had me put it there. You remember her, don’t you? She was one of Jennie’s girls, but not really one of her girls. Carla never was a whore.”
    â€œYes, I remember her. She’s what now, sixteen, seventeen?”
    Ashley laughed. “She’s twenty-two now, and quite a pretty woman. She’s waitin’ tables down at Little Man’s Café.”
    â€œMr. Ashley . . . ”
    â€œLord, Preacher, haven’t we known each other long enough for you to call me Bill?”
    â€œBill,” Preacher said, “you said you thought Ben Caviness was one of those who killed Jennie?”
    â€œThat’s right. Nobody saw who did it, but if I had to make a guess, he’s the one I would pick.”
    â€œIn the letter you said there were two of them, but only one got away.”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œWhat about the one that was caught? Haven’t you been able to make him say anything?”
    â€œIf he does say something, he’ll be saying it to God,” Ashley said. “We found him at the same time we found Miss Jennie. He’s dead.”
    â€œDead? How? What happened to him?”
    Ashley nodded toward Dog, who was now sleeping with his head resting on Preacher’s foot. “As near as we can figure it, Dog