TEMPLARS QUEST: LUCEM SANCTAM (THE TEMPLARS QUEST CHRONICLES: A Historical Mystery Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

TEMPLARS QUEST: LUCEM SANCTAM (THE TEMPLARS QUEST CHRONICLES: A Historical Mystery Book 3)
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at this school. How can I help you?”
    “We’re looking for four pickup trucks that might have passed by here this morning.”
    “A lot of pickups pass by here. What time do you think they went by here?”
    “I guess around 8 or 9 am.”
    He pulled a little book out of his pocket and scanned the pages. “My memory is not so good, so I write everything down.” He kept flipping the pages in his little book. “Yep, got it right here. Four pickups went by here at eight-thirty today. One was green and three were white.”
    White Feather said, “Jack, the truck that picked us up was green.”
    “Which way did they go, Jimmy?” I asked.
    He pointed west. “They went that way, on Route 15, like they always do.”
    “They come by here a lot?”
    “Nope, but they pass by every now and then. I hear they purchase supplies over in Dilkon City. Are they the ones that took you grandson?”
    “Yeah. Do you know who they are?”
    “Hell no, but I think they’re nomads.”
    “Who can we speak to over in Dilkon City?”
    “Stop at Dilkon Market and talk to Charlie Wilson. He’s the owner, and if anyone knows anything about these men, Charlie does. He’s a nosey old coot.”
    “Thanks for your help, Mr. Two Times. We have to get going.”
    “I hope you find your grandson and kill the dirty bastards. That’s why I stand guard here. You never know who could come around.”
    Turning to walk away, I noticed that White Feather was still talking to Jimmy. I reached my truck and yelled, “White Feather, we gotta go!”
    White Feather ignored my shout and kept talking to Jimmy. I shouted again but he didn’t reply. After a minute or so I walked back to both of them. “White Feather, what are you doing? Let’s go.”
    “Jack, I will stay here with Jimmy tonight. Tomorrow I will go to the Hopi Nation to see my wife and children.”
    “I didn’t know you had a wife and kids.”
    “You did not ask me. I have not seen them for six months.”
    His story kind of made me feel his pain, but I had my own pain. “White Feather, you were with Adam when he was kidnapped. You escaped leaving him alone with the bandits. So, in my opinion, you’re responsible and need to help us.”
    “I’m sorry, but I cannot be of further help. I wish you good luck and hope Adam is safe.”
    Now I had a real dilemma. If I make him come along by force it might not be acceptable to his friend, Jimmy. He could try to protect White Feather, which could develop into a gun fight with the man who just helped us. I stood there for a few minutes contemplating what to do.
    Neither of them said a word as Black Horse came over to join the conversation. “Hello, I am Black Horse, of the Comanche Tribe.” Jimmy shook his hand and introduced himself.
    “What’s the problem, White Feather?” Black Horse asked.
    “I told Jack that I will not go with you. I need to go home to my family.”
    “That is not a good, White Feather. Jack Gunn needs your help and experience to find his grandson. Remember he found my son, Billy, and brought him to me. So we owe him a big debt.”
     
    This is what really transpired when I first met Billy, the son of Black Horse. About a month ago, we were going through Indianola, Mississippi on our way to the Comanche Nation. We had a run-in with the self-made Mayor, David Ragsdale, who was a crook. Maggie and I suspected that the friendly Ragsdale was up to no good. So, I asked Billy, then known as Billy Bob, the son of Ragsdale, what was going on? He seemed like as person I could trust.
    Billy told us, “If I tell y’all the truth of what’s going on you gotta promise to take me with you. If you don’t, Ragsdale will kill me for sure. Y’all promise?”
    With hesitation I said, “Ok, it’s a deal. You can come with us.”             
    Billy smiled and shook my hand, crushing it out of joy. “I don’t think Ragsdale is my real Daddy. I don’t know who my Daddy is, but I don’t look like Ragsdale. My mother
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