The Maverick Preacher (4 page)

Stephen hiked up his legs. Adie tucked the blanket across his back and thought of the other things in the trunk, particularly Maggie’s diary. In the last weeks of her pregnancy, the two of them had spent their evenings on the porch of a Topeka boardinghouse. While Adie did piecework, Maggie had taken a pen to paper.

“It’s my story,” she’d explained. “If something happens to me, I want Stephen to have it when he’s older.”

Blinking back tears, she recalled the day Maggie had written the last words in the journal. She’d asked for the book, scrawled a final sentence and taken her last breath. Stunned, Adie had lifted the book from Maggie’s still hands. Without opening it, she’d buried the journal deep in the trunk.

Looking at her son now, Adie thought of the diary and trembled. Maggie had lived with secrets. The book, Adie feared, held revelations that could tear Stephen out of her arms. She had no desire to read it. Instead she kept it hidden with the jewelry and the picture of his natural mother. Someday she’d give everything to her son. The book held truths he deserved to know, but its presence made Adie tremble. She had no intention of opening the trunk for a very long time.

Josh opened his Bible to the Psalms. Tonight he needed comfort and he’d find it in the words of David, a man with God’s own heart but human inclinations. Josh understood that tug and pull. In Boston he’d been inclined to protect his own pride. He’d been an arrogant fool and he hadn’t even known it. Others had, though. As the pages fluttered, he recalled preaching in front of a thousand people. Gerard Richards, the
leading evangelist in America, had been in the crowd. Josh had been eager for the man’s praise. Instead the famed minister, a stooped man with a squeaky voice, had looked him up and down and said, “You have a gift, young man. But you’re full of yourself. You’ll be better after you’ve suffered.”

Josh had been insulted.

Now he understood. Emily’s flight had knocked him to his knees. He’d fallen even lower when he’d lost everything in a river crossing. It had happened on the Missouri at the peak of the spring flood. The barge pilot had steered into an eddy and lost control. When water lapped the logs, the passengers had all run to the side closest to the shore. The raft tipped, sending everything—people, animals and their possessions—into the racing current.

Josh had made it to shore, but he’d lost the satchel he’d carried from Boston. The clothing could be replaced, but he’d grieved the Bible. It had belonged to his grandfather, the man who’d mentored Josh until he’d died of apoplexy. Even more devastating was the loss of Emily’s letter and the tintype she’d had made a few months before she’d revealed her condition. Josh had tucked them in the back of the Bible for safekeeping, but the river had swallowed them whole.

Stripped of his possessions, he’d found work in a livery. That Sunday, he’d preached to a trio of bleary men who’d come for their horses after a night on the town. They’d each given him two bits for his trouble. Josh had put those coins toward the purchase of the Bible in his hands now. The men had come back the following Sunday and they’d brought a few friends. Josh had preached again. He’d used that collection for laudanum.

Recalling that day, he lingered on David’s plea to the God who knew his deepest thoughts. He prayed, as he did every night, that the Lord would lead him to Emily. Before the river crossing, he’d shown her picture to everyone he’d met. Now
he could only describe her. He missed the letter, too. The night she’d left, she’d put it on top of the sermon notes on his desk. He’d been preaching through the gospel of John and had reached the story of the adulterous woman and Jesus’ famous words, “Let him whose slate is clean cast the first stone.”

Sermons usually came easily to Josh, but he’d been unable to grasp the underlying message.

Now he knew why. He’d been a hard-boiled hypocrite. When Emily came to him for help, he’d berated her with words that bruised more deeply than rocks. Blinking, he recalled her letter. He’d read it so often he’d memorized it.

That Sunday, Josh had taught on the same passage, but he’d changed the message. Instead of focusing on the woman and Christ’s command to go and sin no more, he’d talked about throwing stones. In front of three hundred people, he’d admitted to his mistakes and resigned his position. A broken man, he’d packed a single bag and bought a train ticket. Based on Sarah’s knowledge, he’d headed for St. Louis, worrying all the time that Emily would travel farther west. Josh hadn’t found her in St. Louis, but he’d spotted a piece of her jewelry in a shop owned by a pawnbroker. It had given him hope. Over the next several months, he’d traveled far and wide.

Someday he’d find Emily. He’d hit his knees and beg for forgiveness. Until then, he had to live with his regrets. Ex
hausted, he blew out the lamp. As always he prayed for his sister’s safety. Tonight, he added Adie Clarke to that list. He couldn’t help Emily, but here at Swan’s Nest, he saw a chance to do some good. What he couldn’t give to Emily, he’d give to Adie Clarke and her friends. The thought put a smile on his face, the first one in a long time.

“D
on’t let him inside!”

“I won’t,” Adie said to Pearl.

The two women were in the front parlor. They’d been on the porch when Pearl had spotted a carriage coming down the street. Terrified of Franklin Dean, she’d run inside with Adie behind her. Together they were peering through the lace curtain at a brougham that belonged to the banker. In the front seat sat Mr. Dean’s driver, a stocky man dressed in a frock coat and black bowler.

Adie’s gaze skittered to the back of the open carriage where she saw the banker folding a copy of the
Rocky Mountain News.
Some women would have found Mr. Dean handsome. He had dark blond hair, brown eyes, a mustache and what her mother had called a lazy smile, the kind that curled on a man’s lips with no effort at all. In Adie’s experience, smiles were rare and had to be earned.

She didn’t trust Franklin Dean at all. She’d felt uncomfortable the instant they’d met, and those suspicions had been confirmed when she’d heard Pearl’s story. A preacher’s daughter, Pearl had been engaged to the banker when he’d taken her for
a buggy ride. Dean claimed that they’d succumbed to temptation, but Adie knew otherwise. Pearl had told her about that horrible afternoon. She’d protested. She’d pushed him away. He’d pushed back and left her ashamed and carrying his child.

Adie put her arm around Pearl’s shoulders. “Go upstairs. I’ll see what he wants.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“Yes, you can.” Adie made her voice light. False courage, she’d learned, counted for the real thing if no one saw through it.

“But—”

“Go on.” Adie pointed Pearl to the stairs. “I can handle Mr. Dean.”

The carriage rattled to a stop. With her eyes wide, Pearl stared at the door, then at Adie. “I’ll hide in the kitchen. If he tries anything, I’ll scream for help. I’ll get a knife—” Her voice broke.

Boots tapped on the steps. Adie nudged Pearl down the hall, then inspected herself in the mirror. She’d planned to walk to the business district to pay the mortgage and had already put on her good dress. Thanks to the rent from Reverend Blue, she had enough money for the payment
and
roast beef for supper. She’d put Stephen down for a nap and had been looking forward to a peaceful walk. Quiet afternoons were few and far between. She refused to let Franklin Dean steal her pleasure.

He rapped on the door.

Adie opened it. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dean.”

He tipped his hat. “Miss Clarke.”

It galled Adie to be pleasant, but riling him would only lead to trouble. She forced a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“May I come in?”

She stepped onto the porch and closed the door. “It’s a lovely day. We can speak out here.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve come to see Pearl.”

“She’s not accepting visitors.”

“I believe I’m the exception.”

No, he was the reason. The July sun burned behind him, turning the street into a strip of dust and giving his face craggy lines. Adie couldn’t stand the sight of him. He’d hurt Pearl the way Timothy Long had tried to hurt
her.
He swaggered the way she’d imagined Maggie’s brother strutted in his fancy pulpit. She had to convince him to leave.

“Pearl’s resting,” she said.

“You’re lying, Miss Clarke.” His lips curled into the lazy smile. “She was sitting by the window.”

“How would you know?”

“Am I wrong?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

Her voice rang with confidence, but her insides were quaking. He’d been too far away to see Pearl through the glass. Had he been watching her house? She thought of the rock that had shattered her bedroom window. Fear gripped her, but she met his gaze as if they were discussing lemonade.

Dean rapped a walking stick against his palm. Over and over, he slapped his own flesh as if he didn’t feel a thing. Adie had been beaten with bigger sticks and knew when to keep quiet. She also knew that Franklin Dean wanted to drive her out of Swan’s Nest so he could sell the property for a higher price than she’d negotiated with his father. Between silver mines and gold strikes, farms, ranches and the arrival of the railroad, Denver had been dubbed the Queen City of the Plains. Adie’s house stood on prime land and Dean wanted it back.

He couldn’t have it. She forced herself to appear blasé.

He slapped the walking stick against his palm a final time. Gripping it tight, he smiled as if nothing ugly had passed
between them. “I’m rather thirsty, Miss Clarke. I’d enjoy a glass of sweet tea.”

“I’m fresh out.”

“Water, then.”

He wanted to get in the house and corner Pearl. No way would Adie open the door. “I was about to leave for town, Mr. Dean. If you’ll excuse me—”

“No, Miss Clarke. I won’t excuse you.” His eyes burned into hers. “I want to see Pearl.”

“Like I said, she’s resting.”

He glared at her. “The mortgage is due today, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“My timing’s excellent,” he said. “I’ll collect payment and save you the trip to the bank.”

“No, thank you.” Adie never dealt with Dean when she made her payment. She always visited the same teller, asked for a receipt and stowed it in the trunk. They were that precious to her.

Craning his neck, Dean peered through the lace curtain hanging in the parlor window. Adie turned and followed his gaze to Pearl, her belly large and round, as she peered around the corner and out the window.

He rapped on the glass. “Pearl!”

Startled, the girl slipped back into the hall that led to the kitchen. Dean made a move for the front door, but Adie blocked him. He pivoted, went down the steps and turned down the path that led to the garden behind the house. Adie raced after him.

“Stop!” she cried.

“I have business with Pearl.”

“You’re trespassing!”

Ignoring her, he strode past the vegetables she’d planted in place of flowers and rounded the corner to the back of the
house. He was headed for the door, but he hadn’t counted on Joshua Blue blocking his path. The scarecrow in the garden had more meat on its bones, but the reverend had a fire in his eyes that scared Adie to death.

After two days in bed, Bessie’s care and a gallon of goat’s milk, Josh had felt the need for fresh air. He’d gone out the back door, taken in the garden and stepped into the carriage house. He’d been checking his horse when Pearl had run into the outbuilding. Shaking and out of breath, she’d closed the door and hunkered down behind a partial wall before she’d seen him.

Josh approached as if she were a downed bird. “Are you all right?”

She gasped. “It’s Franklin Dean. He—” She burst into tears.

Josh didn’t know a thing about Franklin Dean, but he knew about evil men. “Where’s Miss Clarke?”

“He tried to get in the house,” Pearl said, whimpering. “Adie stopped him.”

Josh strode out of the carriage house. As he emerged in the sun, he saw a man headed for the back door of Swan’s Nest. Adie was running behind him, ordering him to stop. One look at her face and Josh knew she’d fight this man. Pearl’s fear explained why. Her belly testified to a deeper reason, one that made Josh furious. Stifling his anger, he looked the man up and down. The stranger didn’t match Josh in height, but he weighed at least fifty pounds more. The difference came from both Josh’s belly trouble and the man’s indulgence. Whoever he was, he didn’t skip dessert.

Josh blocked the path to the back door. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Who are
you?
” the man demanded.

“A guest.”

He smirked at Adie. “I thought you didn’t rent to men.”

“I don’t.”

Dean huffed. “I see.”

“No, sir,” Josh said calmly. “You don’t
see.
You’re trespassing.”

“I’m Franklin Dean.”

He said it as if he expected Josh to bow down.

Adie interrupted. “Mr. Dean owns Denver National Bank. He holds the note on Swan’s Nest.”

Josh didn’t care if he owned the entire town. “That doesn’t give him the right to trespass.”

“You have no business here, Mr.—”

“My name is Joshua Blue.” Josh spoke with his richest Boston accent. “My family—”

“Has shipping interests,” Dean finished.

“Among other things.”

Dean’s smile turned oily. “What brings you to Denver, sir?” He smelled money and it showed.

Josh found him revolting. “It’s a private matter.”

The banker’s eyes narrowed. “So is my business with Miss Oliver.”

Not in Josh’s opinion. Her belly made the matter between them public. He didn’t know the details, but he knew Pearl feared this man. At the sight of her, he’d recalled Emily and felt all the inclinations of a brother. Looking at Dean now, he wanted to deck the man for his arrogance. He settled for being direct. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“Not until I speak to Pearl.”

Short of violence, Josh didn’t see a way to get rid of the man. He’d have to outlast him. Josh had his flaws, but impatience wasn’t one of them. He’d spend all afternoon with Dean if meant protecting Adie and her boarders.

“Fine,” Josh said. “I’ll wait with you on the porch until she’s ready.”

Dean frowned.

Adie interrupted. “I have a better idea, Mr. Dean. I’ll tell Pearl you’re concerned about her health.”

“I am.”

“If she’s up for a visit, I’ll send word to you.”

Josh watched the banker’s face. He didn’t want to leave, but Adie had given him a way out that saved his pride.

“Very well,” Dean said. “When you bring your loan payment, I’ll expect a note from Pearl.”

Adie gave a crisp nod. “I’ll speak with her.”

Dean glared at Josh, tipped his hat to Adie and walked down the path to the street. Josh followed him with his eyes, watching as he batted at a weed with his walking stick. When he rounded the corner, Josh turned to Adie. When he’d seen her chasing after Dean, she’d reminded him of a robin chasing down a worm. Now, in spite of the sun on her reddish hair, she looked subdued.

Josh raked his hand through his hair. “He’s trouble, isn’t he?”

“The worst kind.”

“If there’s anything I can do—”

“There isn’t.”

As she straightened her spine, Josh noticed her gown. Instead of the brown dress she usually wore, she’d put on a blue calico that made him think of the ocean. Adie Clarke, he decided, had the same sense of mystery. She seemed calm on the surface, but unseen currents churned in her hazel eyes and turned them green in acknowledgment of the dress.

The door to the carriage house creaked open. Pearl peeked from behind the heavy wood. “Is he gone?”

Adie hurried to her friend’s side. “He just left.”

“Good riddance!”

Josh thought so, too.

Adie put her arm around Pearl’s huge waist. “If you’ll excuse us, Reverend. Pearl needs to lie down.”

“Of course.” Except Adie had a need as well. She had to
deliver the mortgage payment. Josh decided he needed a walk. He fell into step with the women, held the door and followed them inside.

Adie gave him a harsh look. “Do you need something, Reverend?”

“No, but you do.”

“I can’t imagine what.”

Josh liked her spirit. After the ordeal with Dean, some women—and men—would have been cowering in the closet. Not Adie Clarke. She’d walk on hot coals for someone she loved. So would Josh. Adie wasn’t Emily, but for now he could treat her like a sister. “I’m going with you to the bank.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Pearl dropped onto a chair. She looked exhausted. “He’s right, Adie. You shouldn’t go alone.”

“And I need the fresh air,” Josh added.

“But your shoulder—”

“It’s much improved.” He rolled his arm to test it. His belly still hurt, but he didn’t pay attention. It
always
hurt, and it would until he found Emily.

Adie looked annoyed, an expression Josh found refreshing. In Boston, the members of his church had deferred to him. On the open trail, outlaws had put up with him. Adie didn’t belong in either camp. She treated him with common sense, as if he were an ordinary man. He also admired her sweetness with Pearl. In spite of the pressure from Dean, she hadn’t asked her friend to write a note.

Pearl looked at Josh. “She’s stubborn.”

He smiled. “I noticed.”

“I am not.” Adie wrinkled her brow. “I don’t need company to go to the bank. Besides, I have errands to run.”

“Good.” Josh hooked his thumbs in the trousers. “I need to pick up a few things, like suspenders.”

He’d hoped to lighten the mood and it worked. Pearl patted her tummy. “I don’t have
that
problem.”

When her friend smiled, Adie’s face lit up with pleasure. “I’ll bring you some peppermint candy. Would you like that?”