Preacher Man: Last Stand, #12

By Blaze Ward

A new preacher has come to Wabrook to revive the faith. Except that under that disguise, Auntie recognizes the man. And his trouble.

 

Then more trouble bubbles up, and the whole crew must get involved.

 

Book Twelve of the Last Stand, a shiny, new space western science fiction adventure series full of bright characters, messy worlds, and all manner of ethical conundrums.

 

Start first with Lost Dreams and then continue on and pick up the rest of this series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Knotted Road Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781644703779

Blaze Ward

Blaze Ward writes science fiction in the Alexandria Station universe (Jessica Keller, The Science Officer,  The Story Road, etc.) as well as several other science fiction universes, such as Star Dragon, the Dominion, and more. He also writes odd bits of high fantasy with swords and orcs. In addition, he is the Editor and Publisher of Boundary Shock Quarterly Magazine. You can find out more at his website www.blazeward.com, as well as Facebook, Goodreads, and other places. Blaze's works are available as ebooks, paper, and audio, and can be found at a variety of online vendors. His newsletter comes out regularly, and you can also follow his blog on his website. He really enjoys interacting with fans, and looks forward to any and all questions—even ones about his books!

Book preview

Preacher Man

Preacher Man

Last Stand

Volume Twelve

Blaze Ward

Knotted Road Press

Contents

Scene One

Scene Two

Scene Three

Scene Four

Scene Five

Scene Six

Scene Seven

Scene Eight

Scene Nine

Scene Ten

Scene Eleven

Scene Twelve

Scene Thirteen

Scene Fourteen

Scene Fifteen

Scene Sixteen

Scene Seventeen

Scene Eighteen

Scene Nineteen

Scene Twenty

Afterward: Pastor Mike

Read More

About the Author

Also by Blaze Ward

About Knotted Road Press

To Pastor Mike, for everything

Scene One

Abigail couldn’t say she was looking forward to landing on Wabrook. For one, it was well off the usual beaten path that Tessa and Last Stand frequently worked.

In simple terms, the middle of nowhere, which honestly described a lot of Hawkswold Sector. And one of the dullest parts.

Abigail hesitated to call the people dull, but honestly, that was as good a term as any. Small-minded, maybe, because it was a farming world with no cities worth discussing. Just an unending series of county seats.

She was a Player, and that brought with it certain expectations. Or should. Culture, entertainment, music, fun.

Wabrook always tested her patience, because these folks tended to belong to their kirk and think small thoughts about small lives that never traveled more than ninety kilometers from the house where they’d been born.

Today, she was in the kitchen aboard Last Stand, fixing herself some tea, flavored with a bit of lemon thyme and orange mint from the plants that grew in pots and hydroponics about the ship. Fin had landed them late last night, long after everyone in Waverly City had rolled up the few sidewalks and gone to bed, all set to rise with the roosters and cattle, breaking their fast long before the sun rose.

Abigail had slept in anyway.

Fin was just returning from delivering the mail, so he joined her. Cookies sounded like a lovely addition to her day, but Abigail hadn’t gotten off her ass yet to make any.

Wabrook practically demanded it of her, though.

There’s news, he said as he hung the empty satchel from the chair and sat down across from her. "Not sure it qualifies as interesting, this being Wabrook and all that, but the laws of thermodynamics might have to get involved at this point."

Abigail grinned. Entropy was about the only change you had in places like Wabrook. Or ennui. And even Tessa didn’t run out this direction all that often. Mostly when someone had a cargo and a need to deliver it quickly. Abigail was a bit fuzzy on the nature of several crates aft, but she also didn’t pry too deeply into Tessa’s business affairs.

However, Fin was being silly.

Oh? she asked, all bright eyed and innocent as the straight chick in this comedy routine.

Postmaster said that they’d had a new traveling revival set up, night before last, and it was starting to get people around here a little riled up, Fin nodded. "Though, I suppose that blade cuts both ways. What the hell would happen to Wabrook if they got excited?"

Somebody might start dancing, she teased In public, even.

The horrors! he gasped, then started giggling.

Abigail shook her head and smiled. Definitely making cookies today. Maybe as soon as she finished her tea.

You ever feel the need to run a good religion scam on folks? he asked when he caught his breath.

Players aren’t supposed to do that, Fin, she reminded him.

Ten years of schooling. Tests. Expertise. Public performance.

Con artists were a whole different breed.

Oh, I realize, he said. But there are hardly any Players on the Hawkswold circuit, and you got a lot of folks needing something to break up the dreariness of everyday life. Hell, I could have stayed home and been a banker, if I’d had no greater dreams in life.

Abigail nodded, understanding. She’d wanted to become a Player as soon as she learned who they were and what they did. And the group jealously defended their privileges, able to access every level of society from Governors of Beaumonde to dirt farmers on Wabrook.

However, any fool could become a traveling preacher. A great many of them turned out to be grifters, even the ones honest in their beliefs and sincere in their presentation, because they always put out a hat or plate for donations. And frequently fell victim to temptation.

And Abigail hardly ever saw such a person skinny and hungry. Usually dressed in the finest outfits and utterly corpulent with good food, instead of feeding and clothing the downtrodden, as so many of their prophets demanded.

Anyway, Fin continued, popping back up, just wanted to let you know you had some competition for the rubes.

It’s rude to call them that, Fin, she reminded him.

Not wrong, though.

She’d give him that. Not entirely wrong. Not on Wabrook. Even Waverly City, which was at least a county seat and about as urbane as those things went. Courthouse and Land Office. General store. A few restaurants serving a generally thriving middle class.

It was still a hard life, farming and ranching.

Fin left, pausing to kiss his much taller wife as Tessa came aft.

What’s he giggling about? Tessa asked as she moved to make herself some tea.

There’s a revival preacher in town, Abigail said. He thinks I’ll have to up my game to entertain folks.

Tessa snorted as she spooned leaves into a sachet and set the pot to boiling.

Doubt it, Tessa offered. But hey, maybe we need to go scout them out, just in case? Wyatt can be all grumbly and tough.

What’d I do this time? Wyatt asked, entering from the rear hallway and yawning.

Preacherman in town ahead of us, Tessa replied.

And I need to scare him off? Wyatt asked, confused from dropping into the middle of a conversation.

That, or we get you all dolled up in a fancy suit next to him and let you charm folks, Abigail teased him.

Wyatt was finally relaxed enough around her to be teased, but the scowl on his face could polish steel right now. She and Tessa shared a giggle as he moved to the pantry and started opening doors.

Planning to make cookies in a bit, Abigail called.

I’ll be back, he said, turning immediately away and heading aft again.

Tessa set the pot to boiling and took the spot Fin had been in.

Might be fun to go see whoever it is speak, Tessa said.

I was already planning to be dressed like a farmer’s wife so nobody knew me, Abigail nodded. Maybe Fin or Wyatt needs to be all fancy, with a whole harem of wives, just to seduce some of the locals with dreams of lust?

You are incorrigible, Tessa rolled her eyes.

Duh, Abigail laughed. Still, it would be a nice change. Usually, I have to sit up on a stage and talk news in places like this. Maybe stories. I doubt that they’ll have any money to hire me to drag out the cello.

She practiced every day, but only performed in public for money.

Or favors.

Wabrook didn’t have anything that interesting, last she’d checked.

And hey, it might even be entertaining, Tessa offered.

I doubt it, Abigail sighed. That’s why I felt the need to make cookies.

Not arguing, Tessa grinned. "I only come out here when there’s good