Adam, Devils on Horseback: Generations, Book 1 (15 page)

“Nevertheless, this is a private conversation.” Jesse’s frown deepened into a scowl. “I’m going to insist that you leave.”

“Don’t be rude.” Tabitha came to the woman’s defense. “She’s being nice.”

“She’s being sneaky.”

Matilda sucked in an outraged breath. “You’ve no right to accuse me. I’m trying to help
her
, not my brother. That’s why I came. I wanted him to let the anger go, but when he got that telegram, he lost his mind.”

Adam didn’t know this woman, but she seemed to be earnest. “If you want to help, then get your brother to drop the charges.”

Matilda sat beside Jesse and he moved his chair a foot in the other direction.

“Jesse Nathaniel Marchand!” Tabitha was the older sister and never let her brother forget it. “You’re being rude to her.”

Adam had never seen Jesse have such a visceral reaction to anyone. He was always the cousin with the level head, the logical cousin to all the other hotheaded members of the six wonders. Now he was being deliberately rude to a woman who wanted to help Eve.

“I’m trying to protect my client.” He shot another glare toward Matilda. “From everyone’s machinations.”

“You might think you’re being superior, but I know what
machination
means.” Matilda’s eyes narrowed. “You sound like a lawyer.”

“Thank you.” Jesse closed the book and got to his feet. “I’m going to do my work elsewhere.”

“Then I’ll follow you.” Matilda stood. “You’re protecting your client. I need to protect my brother.”

“You’re not invited.”

“I’m inviting myself.”

“You’ve no right.”

“I have every right. She was my friend and he’s my brother.”

“Exactly why you have no right.” Jesse left the restaurant, still arguing with Matilda, for whom he held the door open.

Adam looked at Tabitha. “What just happened?”

“I’ve no idea.” She shook her head. “I hope she helps him find what he needs. If she can convince her brother, more’s the better.”

Adam ran his hands down his face. “I feel helpless, Tabby.”

The nickname slipped out. He fought against a wave of panic. Right now he needed his family more than he ever had. Tabitha put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

“Don’t worry. We’ll save her. She’s part of us now. Seven wonders of the world.” Tabitha smiled and Adam saw the amazing woman beneath the rough ways.

“Thanks.” He smiled at her. “Now how about you help me load the wagon with flour? I’ve got deliveries tomorrow and the mill has to keep bringing in money. With Pa on his back, I’ve got to take care of my family. Plus the Founder’s Day celebration is tomorrow too and the bake sale always depletes the flour supplies in town.” Not that he would be celebrating, but they needed to keep the town baking—that was their role in Tanger.

“Of course I’ll help you.” She bumped her head against his. “Your wife needs a husband who can take care of her.”

“I’ll take care of her when I get the chance to.” Adam swallowed the urge to pull her out of the jail cell. Zeke would take care of her. She was safer there than anywhere else in Tanger.

If only Adam didn’t feel like he was abandoning her. He had to prove her innocent and free her from the stranglehold of her past mistakes. Their future beckoned and he wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

Ch
apter Fourteen

Ad
am and Tabitha put the last sack of flour in the wagon. He had grabbed the tarp to secure the load when Clint appeared.

“Spencer is here. You need to hear what he has to say.” He disappeared into the evening gloom toward the house.

Tabitha shrugged. “One day that man is going to have to say more than ten words at a time.”

“Let’s get this tarp secured and see what’s happening.” Adam felt a sense of urgency. He couldn’t explain it. He’d tried to push aside the knowledge that Eve had been sitting in jail the last eight hours. She was safe, but confined.

He and Tabitha made quick work of the tarp, then washed up faster than he ever had, before they walked, or rather ran, to the house. The windows were lit with a welcoming glow of lanterns. They thundered up the stairs and into the house.

Voices sounded from upstairs so they followed the sound. They found Spencer in Adam’s parents’ bedroom. Pa was without the bandage on his head for the first time since the accident. His scalp was pink with neat, even stitches and a red fuzz of hair growing back. He was alive and that was all that mattered.

Mama stood at the window, her arms crossed. Her expression was one of consternation. It was apparent Spencer had refused to speak until Adam arrived. Mama needed to know everything as soon as she could and waiting was against her nature.

“Now tell us what’s so important.” She tapped her foot.

“You know I was looking into Wade and finding out what I could about him.”

Adam nodded. “Right. He’s Eugene Dolan.”

“It’s more than that. He’s been in and out of trouble, hiding from the law for his entire life. He’s twenty-five years old. How old is Eve?” Spencer was serious for the first time in a long time.

That caught Adam’s attention. “Twenty, maybe. Not much older than that.”

“And how old was she when they met?”

Adam thought back to what she’d told him. “She was eleven.”

“Which meant he was fourteen or fifteen. He might have been running scams in the street, but there’s no way he was the boss. Someone else was.”

Adam’s stomach twisted. “She told me Wade had a boss, but she’d never met the man.”

“She’s right. Wade has a partner. Police records show they were after a gang that Wade was part of. There was an older man who ran it.”

“Holy shit.” Adam looked at his father, who was scowling hard enough to stretch his stitches.

“Did you find out who it was?” Pa snapped.

Spencer looked around the room. “You might not believe me.”

“Jesus, please us, just tell us what you found out.” Tabitha threw her hands in the air. “You’re always so damn dramatic.”

Mama didn’t take her niece to task for cussing, or Adam, for that matter. The air was so thick he could hardly get a breath in.

“When did Reverend Rockwell move to Tanger?”

Adam’s mouth dropped open. “Wade went to the church the day he arrived.”

Tabitha was more vocal. “The hell you say.”

“Five years ago, Rockwell replaced Reverend Mitchell when he grew ill and left to spend his days in retirement with his wife, Cindy.” Mama knew everything that went on in town.

“Who sent him? Do you know where he came from?” Spencer pushed his aunt to think harder.

“I don’t remember. The church had been empty a few months when he arrived. He simply took over. Such an affable man. He always does such a good job at the bake sale at the Founder’s Day celebration every year.” Mama dropped her arms and her face flushed as she spoke.

“How much money does that bake sale make?” Spencer asked.

Pa spoke, “The reverend manages all the funds. No one questions him.”

“Then why is the church falling apart? Have you seen the Bibles and pews? They are shabby. Not to mention the boards on the outside that are cracked. And it hasn’t been painted since Reverend Mitchell was here.” Spencer met Adam’s gaze. “What better place to hide than in plain sight?”

Adam didn’t want to accuse a man without proof. “What did you find?”

“The man didn’t exist until he showed up here. He has no past. No one knows how he got here, but they didn’t question him because he wore a minister’s garb. I think he was hiding. And every contribution to the church has funneled through his hands for the last five years.” Spencer held up a telegram. “There was a man fitting his description that was under suspicion in the Gonzalez theft. They couldn’t find him.”

Adam snatched the telegram and read it. If Spencer was right, they had been harboring the very man who had orchestrated Eve’s child prostitution.

“I’ll kill him.”

Spencer shook his head. “Before you commit murder, we need to make sure we’re right.”

“How do you suggest we do that? There’s no time.” Tabitha touched her gun, Sam. “I’m with Adam. Let’s kill him.”

“If he’s the man we’re looking for, his name is Charles O’Hara. I say we catch him off guard. People can’t help but respond if someone calls their name.” Spencer made a face. “Then we tell my pa what we suspect.”

It was typical of Spencer to keep what he was doing from his father. The two of them butted heads over everything from the color of the sky to the price of beef. One day they would have to make peace with each other.

Adam had to focus on Eve, not on the foolishness between his cousin and uncle. If the reverend who married them was a thief in hiding, then he’d been milking Tanger like a cow for five years. Not only that, but it meant Eve wasn’t really his wife because every marriage he’d performed was illegal.

“Let’s go get the son of a bitch.”

“Be careful.” This from Pa. “A cornered rat will do anything to survive. Take my pistol. All of you should be armed.”

For once, Mama had nothing to say. She watched as Spencer, Clint and Tabitha joined Adam in the doorway.

It was time to go hunting.

* * * * *

“
I’ll be back after my rounds through town.” Zeke locked the cell for the first time since she arrived.

Eve nodded, unwilling to answer him. He’d made himself clear and it gave her no chance for happiness in Tanger or with Adam. She didn’t want to accept his pronouncement, and her thoughts were tangled up in each other.

“You’re safe here. No one comes to the jail intentionally except the family.” He hung the keys on the hook behind the desk. “I’m going to leave these here in case Naomi comes while I’m gone.” With that, he left her alone.

The jail was clean and had everything she could need. Although, peeing in a pot was not what she wanted. She wouldn’t do it in front of her husband, much less his fierce uncle. Now that Zeke was gone, she could relieve her aching bladder.

After Eve finished her business, she tucked the pot under the cot. When Zeke returned she would enjoy giving him her pee to dispose of. Would serve him right for being so inflexible and determined to keep her away from Adam.

When the door opened ten minutes later, she got to her feet, hoping it was Adam. Instead it was the minister from the church. No doubt he’d come to counsel her on her wicked ways.

“Good evening, Mrs. Sheridan.” He closed the door behind him and smiled. The middle-aged man had a lunch bucket and a bottle of milk.

Her stomach rumbled at the sight. She hadn’t eaten supper yet and it had been some time since she’d eaten the biscuits Tabitha had brought her.

“Reverend.” Eve wondered if hearing a sermon was worth the food in the pail.

“I brought you some fried chicken, biscuits and something to wash it down. I think there’s a slice of peach pie too.” He smiled as he held up the offering. “It’s my job to minister to the flock in Tanger. Even those who have lost their way.”

“If you don’t mind, Reverend, I’d rather not be ministered to.” Eve sat with her back against the wall, determined to be strong.

“Then please just eat. I asked for a full meal at the restaurant for you.”

She sat up straighter. “That’s from Cindy’s?”

“Yes indeed.” The man’s smile didn’t seem right and she couldn’t put her finger on why. “I feel somewhat responsible for you. After all, I married you to young Mr. Sheridan.”

Eve could continue to refuse the food or she could swallow her pride and eat. If she went to prison, there wouldn’t be vittles the quality of Cindy’s. She should enjoy the taste while she could.

He picked up the keys for the cell, from the hook. She wondered how the man knew where they were. Perhaps he ministered to all the unlucky souls who ended up in the jail.

When he unlocked the cell, the metal screeched in the small building. She accepted the pail and milk from him; then he shut the door and locked it. He pulled the chair from the desk and sat outside the cell.

Eve didn’t want to eat in front of the man. It was awkward enough to accept charity. This man wasn’t her minister. She barely knew him.

“Please eat. I thought to keep you company since the sheriff isn’t here.” There was that smile again.

The scrumptious smell of the fried chicken made her stomach frantic with need. She pulled back the cloth and plucked a drumstick out. After she gnawed on it for a few minutes, she found him staring at her, the smile gone. Eve drank a swallow from the milk.

The aftertaste from the cool liquid sat on her tongue. The sweet, flowery flavor sent her backwards in time ten years, to the nightmare of waking up in a whorehouse.

She dropped the milk onto the wood floor. The white beverage spread across the floor and she backed up toward the cot.

“What did you do?” The reverend tut-tutted at her. “You wasted it.”

She stared at him in horror. “Who are you?”

“Ah, Desdemona, you don’t remember me, do you?” He grinned and shook his head. “I was your first. You were more malleable with a bit of juice in your veins. And your body was so sweet, a beautiful girl’s form.”

She would vomit. All over him. Her body flooded with shame and fury. She tried to remember the face of the man over her so many years earlier. Her memory was blurry and tainted by the opium that ran through her veins.

“How is this possible?” She kicked the pail toward him. “Is there opium in the chicken and biscuits too?”

“You won’t know unless you try it.” He leaned back in the chair. “You were always mine. Wade was mine too. You destroyed my business, little girl. You almost destroyed me. What a coincidence that you walked into my church like an angel. I could have my revenge.”

Her stomach did flips, along with her heart. This was the man who controlled Wade. How had she ended up in the same town as this monster? Everything had gone wrong when she married Adam. She hadn’t known her nightmare would begin again. The man had obviously been hiding in Tanger, no doubt running schemes and pretending to be a minister. The universe was cruel.

The sweet taste in her mouth tried to yank her back to the time she spent trying to convince herself she didn’t need the drug. It was a nightmare time where she thought she might lose her mind. Focusing on singing and helping others was the only way she’d survived. Now this man, this demon, had fed her the very poison she had hated for almost half her life.

She spat on the floor and edged closer to the cot. To the pot of warm piss beneath it.

“You’re a bastard.”

“Too true, but I’m on this side of the bars of the cell and you’re on that side.” This time she saw the evil madness in his grin. “You need to be punished. Because of you, I lost my business; the money I had rolling in dried up. I had to leave it behind when Wade was arrested. Mr. Gonzalez will get his revenge and I will ride on the back of it.”

“I’ll tell everyone what you did. You can’t expect me to be quiet.” She was shouting now, as though to prove her point. It was rage that drove her. She heaved the chamber pot at the bars, the piss landing in splashes on his trousers and shirt. No reaction. Nothing. “I’ll make sure the sheriff knows exactly who you are.”

“I’m no one. A minister from a small town who runs bake sales and holds sermons every week. I’m a man of the cloth.” He got to his feet and straightened his shirt. “No one will believe you instead of me. Especially when the jail burns down.”

She shook her head. “The jail isn’t burning down.” His words made no sense.

Then he walked over to the kerosene lantern on the desk. Her voice froze in her throat as he picked up the lantern.

“This will be a clean end to everything for everyone. You can’t survive this one, you bitch. Hell will welcome you with open arms.” He threw the lantern and it smashed into the iron bars of the cell.

Eve screamed and covered her face as glass and splashes of kerosene hit her. The puddle of fuel on the floor burned merrily. She watched in horror as he lit a match and threw it at her.

* * * * *

Without time to retrieve the horses from the livery and saddle them, Adam ran through the streets of Tanger, away from the church, with Spencer and Tabitha by his side. Clint had headed for Gideon’s house to let him know the situation. The good reverend wasn’t at the church or his house, which sat behind the church.

The buildings were both darkened and empty. Tabitha mumbled under her breath and Spencer wouldn’t shut up about how he had always thought the minister was suspicious.

The orange glow in the distance caught Adam’s eye. He stopped and squinted, trying to determine what he was looking at.

“What is that?” Spencer came to a halt beside him.

Tabitha ran past them. “It’s a fire, you idiots.”

Adam’s bad feeling became a roar inside him. “Fuck. Please don’t let it be the jail.” He ran as though the hounds of hell were chasing him, fear for Eve tasting like death on his tongue.

She had trusted him and he had promised her she would be safe. If the reverend had gotten to her, then Adam might have lost the woman he had just started to love. Guilt and terror rocketed through him.

His heart thumped like a horse galloping through his ears, a steady beat that grew faster and faster. He ran until a stitch formed in his side, but he ran on, heedless of his own pain. As he rounded the corner, his worst fears were confirmed. Flames licked the front of the jail, heading at least ten feet high into the twilight sky.

Smoke already filled the air as they got close. A few people were out in the street, forming a bucket brigade. Tanger had been trying to put a fire department in place, but it hadn’t happened yet. They needed money to pay for a pumper they could connect to the well in the center of town.