The Maverick Preacher (10 page)

Horace climbed down from the high seat. Frank got out by himself and faced his driver. “It’s time to do more.” He didn’t need to explain what he meant.

“Any ideas, sir?”

“A fire, perhaps.”

Horace raised his brows. “The whole house?”

A fire had hidden benefits. As soon as Franklin took possession of Swan’s Nest, he intended to tear it down and build a row of houses he’d sell to entrepreneurs flooding into Denver. If Swan’s Nest burned to the ground, the demolition job would be simpler. On the other hand, he didn’t want to endanger Pearl.

“Use your judgment,” he said. “But Miss Oliver mustn’t be harmed.”

“What about the others?”

Frank shrugged.

When Horace grinned, moonlight showed his yellow teeth. “You won’t know a thing until it happens.”

“You’re a smart man, Horace.”

“That’s what you pay me for.”

Frank took the hint. Arson cost more than stomping tomatoes. He slipped a five-dollar gold piece into Horace’s hand. “Remember. No harm to Miss Oliver.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the driver led the horse to the stable, Frank had another thought and turned. “One more thing, Horace.”

“Sir?”

“When was the last time you went to church?”

Horace snorted.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to attend services this Sunday.” Frank gave a sly smile. “I hear Reverend Blue is preaching at Brick’s Saloon.”

The driver smiled back. “That he is, sir. In fact, I think I’ll attend.”

“Good idea.”

As Horace led the horse away, Frank heard the hollow clop of hooves on the dirt path. He entered his house, then headed up the stairs to his empty bedroom, where he blew out the candle and dreamed of Pearl.

O
n Sunday morning Josh strode into Brick’s Saloon, saw seven people and rejoiced at the size of the crowd. Brick had arranged the chairs into a square. The barkeep and the girl from Miss Elsa’s sat in the second row. Caroline and Bessie had come, but Mary had woken up with a fever. Behind Brick sat three men. Two of them were cowpokes. The third man, a stocky fellow, wore a frock coat and had set a black bowler on the chair next to him. Josh greeted him with a nod. He smiled back, revealing yellow teeth.

Adie’s presence would have made him even happier, but he hadn’t expected to see her. She’d avoided him since the Bible study and he was worried. For now, though, he had seven souls in his care.

Josh stepped to the counter that Brick had polished. The barkeep had also tacked a sheet over the racy painting above the bottles, a gesture Josh appreciated. As he set down his Bible, he prayed for God to keep him humble.

“Good morning,” he said in a hearty voice.

The ladies answered. The men didn’t. In some ways,
churches were all alike. No one had sat in the front row. No one ever did, not even in Boston.

Josh felt at home. “Anyone here ever make a mistake?”

The cowboys both grimaced. Josh had never been drunk, but knew a headache when he saw one. Brick looked chagrined, and the girl from Miss Elsa’s clutched a hankie. Bessie and Caroline both nodded in support. Josh glanced at the man with the yellow teeth and saw a sneer. Preaching to outlaws had made Josh wise. He judged no man by his appearance, but neither did he turn his back on strangers. He looked straight at the man in the frock coat.

“I’ve made mistakes,” Josh continued. “I make them every day. A year ago I made one so bad it cost me everything. What I’m here to say, friends, is that there’s hope. If God can take a man like me—a man who, figuratively speaking, murdered his sister with his anger—then He can touch
you
right where you’re sitting today.”

The girl from the brothel had tears in her eyes. Brick and the cowboys merely blinked, but Josh rarely saw emotion in the faces of hardened men. Bessie sat with her usual calm, but Caroline, her eyes shimmering with admiration, worried him. She looked like a woman in love and not just with the Lord. As for the man with the yellow teeth, he looked amused.

In Josh’s experience, mockers came from two camps. Some had chips on their shoulders. They knew their Bible but had been hurt and wanted to fight. Josh gladly took them on. The second group made his blood run cold. They were hard men who bullied others. Before arriving at Swan’s Nest, he’d spent time with the Johnson gang. He’d seen Clay Johnson shoot a dog for wagging its tail at him. Josh didn’t know where the fellow with the bad teeth stood, but his instincts told him to be careful. Before he went back to Swan’s Nest, he intended to speak with the man. First, though, he had a sermon to give.

The words came to him easily. He told whatever Bible
stories came to mind and trusted the Holy Ghost to make them real. Today he told the story about the prodigal son. By the time he finished, Brick and the cowboys were sitting tall and Miss Elsa’s girl looked alive with hope. The fourth man yawned.

“We’ll close with a hymn,” Josh said. “Who knows ‘Rock of Ages’?”

Four hands went up.

Josh got ready to embarrass himself. As Wes Daniels once said, he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. In Boston, he’d had a choir to fill the gap and he had refused to try. Here he had only himself. With no room for pride, he made a joyful noise to the Lord. Noise, he knew, was being charitable.

As the group sang the last verse, the man with the yellow teeth left the saloon. After the final note, Bessie greeted the girl from Miss Elsa’s. As Caroline served cookies, Brick filled mugs with strong coffee. The small group lingered, chatting in the awkward way of strangers.

Josh motioned for Brick to step to the side. “Do you know the fellow who left?”

“Sure do. His name’s Horace.”

“Is he a regular?”

“On and off,” Brick answered. “He’s Franklin Dean’s driver. Dean owns—”

“The Denver National Bank,” Josh said dryly.

“That’s him.”

Josh thought of the man he’d chased out of the garden. They had similar builds.

“He doesn’t say much,” Brick added.

In Josh’s experience, snakes lay in wait. One had spoken to Eve, but most of them struck without warning.

“Hey, Reverend.”

Josh turned and saw the two cowboys. The younger raised his voice. “Thanks for the story.”

“You’re welcome.”

Caroline approached him with a smile. “Are you ready to go back to Swan’s Nest?”

Yes, but not with Caroline at his side. Josh had never been in this position. In Boston Emily had run interference for him. If she were here now, she would have spoken to Caroline without embarrassing her.

Bessie approached. “Wonderful sermon, Reverend.”

“Thank you.”

After giving Josh a knowing look, she turned to Caroline. “It’s time for us to go.”

Caroline frowned. “I thought Josh might like some company.”

Until now he’d been Reverend Blue.

“He doesn’t need us,” Bessie said lightly. “Do you, Reverend?”

Josh didn’t want to hurt Caroline’s feelings, but he had to discourage her. “Go on ahead. I’ll see everyone at supper.”

Caroline looked dismayed, but she followed Bessie out the door.

Josh looked in the basket he’d set on the counter. He hadn’t taken an offering, but he knew people would give. He saw a surprising amount of money, including two silver dollars. He didn’t care about the amount. What blessed him was knowing people valued the message. He picked up the basket, approached Brick and put some coins on the counter. “For the coffee.”

The barkeep shook his head. “You don’t have to pay me, Reverend. It’s my pleasure.”

“I’m not paying you. The congregation is.”

“I guess they did.” Brick smiled. “Will you be back next Sunday?”

“Definitely.”

No way could he leave Adie alone in Denver. Dean had sent a spy. Josh took it as a warning of trouble to come.

He put the rest of the offering in his pocket, then headed for Swan’s Nest. He knew exactly what to do with the remaining money. He’d give it away to people in need. Right now, Adie and her mortgage payment were at the top of the list. He had a hunch she’d argue with him. Her cheeks would turn pink and her eyes would flash. She’d act tough, but she didn’t stand a chance against Josh’s good intentions. Just for the joy of it, he added a gold coin of his own.

For the third time that morning, Adie lifted the sugar bowl from the cupboard and counted the money she’d set aside for the mortgage. She needed twenty-two dollars. She had sixteen and some change. Josh had already paid his rent. Without it, she would have been impossibly short. Both Caroline and Bessie owed for the week, but yesterday Caroline had said she’d be short. Adie had fumed. If the woman hadn’t been buying sugar for pies, she could have paid her rent. Bessie worked for Dr. Nichols. Sometimes he paid her a wage. Other times he shared what his clients gave him. A chicken, even a plump one, wouldn’t pay the mortgage.

Pearl paid nothing. Mary would contribute, but she’d missed two days of work because of a fever.

Barring a miracle, Adie would have to sell a piece of jewelry to meet her obligation. A single brooch would pay the mortgage for months, but Josh checked the jewelry stores every day. She knew his habits because of Caroline. Every night at supper, she asked if he’d learned anything about his sister. Every night, he gave the same answer.

“Not yet,” he’d reply. “But I won’t give up.”

Adie believed him.

With her stomach churning, she put away the money and looked at Stephen, asleep in the wicker basket she’d lined with cotton. He’d gone three days without colic. Every day Adie
looked at his eyes for signs they’d turn brown like Maggie’s. They were still blue…like Josh’s.

Sighing, she stirred the soup. It looked thin, but she didn’t want to sacrifice another chicken. She needed the eggs. She’d saved some carrots from her trampled garden, but they didn’t make up for meat. Even if she scraped together the mortgage money, she needed feed for Buttons, shingles for the roof and food for six adults.

Footsteps padded down the hall. She looked up and saw Mary, dressed in faded calico with a shawl on her shoulders.

“You should be in bed,” Adie scolded.

“I’m better.”

“The fever could come back.”

If Mary’s illness returned, she wouldn’t be able to work. If she couldn’t work, she couldn’t pay her rent. Adie instantly felt selfish for the thought. What had happened to her goodwill? She wanted Swan’s Nest to be a haven for women in need, not a place of disgrace.

Mary reached into the side pocket of her dress. “The mortgage is due in a few days, isn’t it?”

“On Tuesday.”

“Here.” She set a handful of coins on the table. “It’s all I’ve got, almost three dollars. I know things are tight.”

Adie did some quick arithmetic. She needed another three dollars for the mortgage and spending money for the week. Maybe she could sell some of the linens stored in Josh’s room, though she’d tried before and had gotten pennies.

“Will we make it?” Mary asked.

“I think so.” Adie stirred the soup. Her boarders knew she struggled to make ends meet, but no one knew about the jewelry.

Mary glanced at the pot on the stove. “It smells good.”

“Would you like some?”

“Just a little.”

As she sat, the back door opened and Josh walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, ladies,” he said as he hung his hat on a hook.

“Hello, Reverend,” Mary answered.

Adie focused on the soup. Since the night on the porch, she hadn’t been able to look Josh in the eye. Good manners demanded that she offer him a bowl, but she didn’t want him to stay in the kitchen. She mumbled a greeting as thin as the broth.

“How was the service?” Mary asked.

“Good.”

“I hear Bessie and Caroline enjoyed it.”

Josh chuckled. “Maybe the preaching, but we need someone who can sing.”

Mary gave a wistful sigh. “I used to sing every Saturday night. People came to the Ridgemont Canary just to hear me.”

As Adie ladled soup for Mary, she heard chairs scraping against the floor, then the rustle of cotton as Mary sat first, then Josh. She didn’t dare look up. If she kept her eyes down, she stood a better chance of avoiding conversation. Feeling invisible, she listened as Mary revealed to Josh that she’d sung in a fancy music hall in Texas and had come close to joining a traveling revue. Adie wondered what had stopped her.

If Josh wondered, he kept the question to himself. “If you’re free next Sunday, I hope you’ll sing for us.”

Adie had filled the bowl to the brim. She didn’t want to look Josh in the eye, but she had to bring the soup to Mary. As she turned, she heard a tremor in Mary’s voice.

“Are you sure, Reverend? I’m not exactly…you know.”

“I know, all right.” He focused solely on Mary. “I’m not ‘exactly,’ either.”

Neither was Adie.

The bowl dipped in her hand. Josh, tall and dark in his black coat, pushed up from the chair and steadied her grip
with his long fingers. The sight of him should have filled her with resentment. Instead she saw his clear eyes and felt as if he truly understood the shame of her deception. His hair, slightly mussed from the hat he’d hung by the door, wisped over his ears and collar. The coat matched the raven color and made his features even sharper.

He lifted the bowl from her hands. “I’ve got it.”

As he served Mary, Adie felt shaken to the core. Surely Maggie’s brother wouldn’t sit in a kitchen with a saloon girl and an unwed mother. He’d been a Boston muck-a-muck, not a man who’d hold church in a saloon. Oh, how she wanted to believe that lie….

Mary took a sip of soup, then gave Adie a pointed look. “The reverend might be hungry.”

“I’m fine,” he answered.

“Don’t be silly,” Mary said. “Please, join us.”

Josh had gained weight, but he looked thin today. He’d had milk and bread for breakfast, but not a midday meal that she knew about. She feared his company, but she couldn’t let him go hungry. “Mary’s right. You need to eat.”

“Thank you.”

As she filled another bowl, she listened to Josh taking to Mary about her choice of hymns. She knew dozens, including a few Adie had liked as a little girl.

“I’ll sing, but only if you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m positive,” he replied.

Adie set the bowl in front of him. He looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”

Mary ate quickly, then carried her bowl to the counter. “Thank you, Adie. I’m going back upstairs.”

“Wait—”

Mary stopped. “Do you want me to take Stephen?”

“No, I just—” She didn’t want to be alone with Josh but
couldn’t say it. She felt foolish. She also knew Stephen would be happier in his cradle. “Yes, take him. That would be nice.”