The Maverick Preacher

by Victoria Bylin

“Your rent helped to pay my mortgage.”

  She made him feel like an errant knight. “My pleasure, Miss Clarke.”

  “I’m making a roast for supper. I hope you’ll join us.”

  Her hazel eyes shone with happiness. Josh liked roast, but he liked this woman even more. Common sense told him to avoid Adie and her autumn eyes, but supper would give him a chance to ask her boarders about Emily.

  “I’d be grateful,” he replied.

  Concern wrinkled her brow. “Is your stomach strong enough? I could make you a custard.”

  Babies ate custard. Men ate meat. As kind as it was, Adie’s offer irked him. “My digestion’s much better.”

  “Good.”

  Having supper with five ladies made a bath a priority. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to run an errand of my own.”

  “Of course.”

  As Adie retraced her steps down Colfax Avenue, Josh headed for the part of town where he’d find a bathhouse among saloons and gaming halls. Tomorrow he’d come back to this sorry place and ask about his sister, praying he’d find her and hoping it wouldn’t be in an upstairs room.

  Maybe she’d found a sanctuary like Swan’s Nest. The thought cheered him. It also raised questions. Adie’s dress, a calico with a high neck and plain buttons, spoke of a simple life. She worked hard to care for her boarders. How had she come to own a mansion, especially one with the air of old money? She kept one parlor closed, but the other had a marble hearth, cornices and wall sconces. An oriental rug protected the hardwood floor, and the latest flowery wallpaper lined the hall. While most of the Denver mansions were made of stone, someone had spent a fortune to haul in wood for siding.

  Most notable of all, a stained glass window adorned the entry hall. Round and wide, it depicted a white swan with an arched neck floating on a lake of blue glass. Swan’s Nest struck Josh as a perfect name, especially considering its owner and her female guests. Tonight he’d eat a home-cooked meal in the company of good women. They’d chatter, and he’d listen to their birdsong voices. He wouldn’t be lonely for conversation, and he might glean news of Emily.

  Two hours later, Franklin Dean entered the bank he’d inherited from his father. A review of the day’s business showed Adie Clarke’s payment. Irritated, he summoned Horace, his driver, and left for the Denver Gentlemen’s Club.

  As usual, he’d eat supper alone. He blamed the unfortunate state of his evening on Pearl. Didn’t she know how much he loved her? He’d die for her. Sometimes, like this afternoon when he’d seen the foolish preacher at Swan’s Nest, he thought he could kill for her.

  He hoped the circumstances wouldn’t come to that. He knew from experience that dead bodies raised questions. He hadn’t meant to strangle Winnie Peters, but she’d started to scream. Why had she done that? Frank didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He’d left her body in a ravine and paid Horace to remove her belongings from the hotel. No one missed her. She’d come to Denver alone and hadn’t made friends.

  As the carriage passed through town, Frank considered today’s visit to Swan’s Nest. It hadn’t gone well, and he’d missed Adie’s visit to the bank. If it weren’t for her, Pearl would be living at the parsonage. By now, her father would have forced her to marry him. Instead she’d found refuge in a mansion that should have belonged to the bank.

  Frank scowled at his father’s shortsightedness. Swan’s Nest was on Seventeenth Street, a dirt road that led to the outskirts of Denver. As the city grew, that street would fill with businesses. In a few years, the land would be worth thousands of dollars. Frank’s father had sold the mansion for a song, and Frank wanted it back.

  He had to get rid of Adie Clarke and he had to do it soon, before Pearl had the baby and his son was born without his name.

  “Horace?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you recall the job I asked you to do last month?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Frank had asked his driver to send Miss Clarke a message, so Horace had thrown a rock through her bedroom window. Miss Clarke had replaced the glass and said nothing, not even to the sheriff.

  “It didn’t accomplish what I’d hoped,” Frank said.

  “Another plan, sir?”

  He thought of the garden he’d seen on the side of the house. A smirk curled his lips. “I believe Miss Clarke’s vegetables need attention.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Horace stopped the carriage in front of the Denver Gentlemen’s Club. Frank exited the rig, then pressed a shiny silver dollar into his driver’s hand.

  Horace’s eyes gleamed. “Thank you, sir.”

  With his walking stick in hand, Frank entered the club where he’d find fine food and drink. Tonight he had everything he needed…except Pearl. Only Adie Clarke stood in his way.

  Chapter Five

  “Good evening, ladies. May I join you?”

  Adie had been about to carve the roast when she looked up and saw Reverend Blue, tall and lean in a black coat and preacher’s collar, standing in the doorway. His cheeks gleamed with a close shave and his hair, dark with a slight wave, wisped back from his forehead. Adie nearly dropped the carving knife. The drifter who’d fainted on her porch was nowhere in sight. In his place stood a gentleman. His eyes, clear and bright, shone with mirth. He’d surprised her, and he knew it.

  He’d surprised her boarders, too. Pearl’s face had turned as pale as her white-blond hair. Mary, her cheeks red with anger, glared at him. Bessie beamed a smile, while Caroline stared as if she’d never seen a handsome man before.

  Adie was as tongued-tied as Caroline but for different reasons. While walking to the bank, she’d chirped like a cricket to stop him from asking questions about Stephen. She’d kept her focus until they’d reached Colfax Avenue Church. She hated that building as much as she loved Swan’s Nest. She felt that way about all churches, especially ones led by men like Reverend Honeycutt and Maggie Butler’s brother.

  Looking at Reverend Blue, she didn’t see the trappings of such a man, but still felt more comfortable with the drifter.

  She indicated the chair on her right. “Please join us.”

  As he approached, she glanced around the table. If he asked questions, her boarders would answer truthfully. The thought terrified her. They all knew she’d adopted Stephen after the death of a friend, but she’d never breathed Maggie’s name. As slim as the details were, Adie didn’t want a stranger, especially a preacher, knowing her business.

  She positioned the meat fork, lifted the knife and sliced into the roast with too much force. As the cut went askew, the blade cracked against the platter.

  Still standing, Reverend Blue indicated the roast. “May I?”

  Caroline broke in. “Please do, Reverend.”

  Irritated, Adie set down the knife and took her seat, watching as his fingers, long and tanned by the sun, curved around the handle. Maggie’s hands had been pale, but her fingers had been just as tapered. As he cut the meat into precise slices, her nerves prickled with an undeniable fact. Joshua Blue had carved a hundred roasts. Like Maggie, he’d sipped from fine crystal and knew which fork to use. Her stomach lurched. In the same breath, she ordered herself to be logical. Lots of men knew the proper way to carve meat.

  Reverend Blue arranged the last slice on the platter and sat to her right. Adie had no interest in saying grace, but Bessie insisted on keeping the tradition. Tonight the older woman looked at their guest. “Would you give the blessing, Reverend?”

  “I’d be honored.” He bowed his head. “Lord, we thank You for this meal, good friends and the gift of your son. Amen.”

  He finished the prayer before Adie even folded her hands. Either he was hungry or he respected a woman’s effort to serve hot food. She appreciated his quick words. Old Man Long’s prayers had been lengthy and harrowing. She’d paid dearly for tonight’s meal and wanted to eat it hot.

  As she handed him the green beans, Caroline indicated the meat platter. “Take plenty, Reverend. You’re s
till thin from your illness.”

  He blanked his expression, but Adie caught a hint of annoyance. No man liked being called scrawny, and that’s what Caroline had done. He thanked her but still took a reasonable portion.

  Bessie spoke over the plink of serving spoons. “How’s your shoulder, Reverend?”

  “Much better,” he answered.

  “You were in poor shape the last time we all met. Perhaps introductions are in order.”

  He glanced around the table. “I know Miss Clarke, and you’re Miss—”

  “Call me Bessie.”

  “Bessie it is.”

  Caroline said her name and beamed a smile. Mary answered with a scowl but introduced herself. Pearl, staring at her belly, spoke in a hush. They’d each offered their given names, expect for Adie. Reverend Blue turned in her direction. Not wanting to be different from the others, she shrugged. “You know my name. It’s Adie.”

  “Short for Adelaide?”

  “Yes.”

  He hadn’t questioned the others about their names. Why her?

  Caroline handed him the bowl of potatoes. “Where are you from, Reverend?”

  “Boston. And you?”

  “Virginia.”

  He turned back to Adie. “You’re not from either of those places. I’d guess Missouri.”

  She would have lied, but her boarders knew bits of her history. “I was born in Kansas.”

  His interest was piqued. “When did you leave home?”

  “Years ago.”

  He meant Kansas, but Adie thought of “home” as her mother’s farm. Her stomach twisted. If Reverend Blue kept quizzing her, she wouldn’t be able to eat. She sliced a bit of roast and started to chew. With her mouth full, she wouldn’t have to answer his questions.

  He lowered his fork. “This might be a good time to explain why I’m in Colorado. I’m looking for my sister.”

  Adie almost choked.

  “She left home ten months ago.”

  “What’s her name?” Caroline asked.

  “Emily Blue.”

  The name meant nothing to Adie. Her stomach settled until the reverend drilled her with his eyes. “Emily was last seen in Kansas City, but I know she bought a train ticket for somewhere else.”

  Caroline turned to Adie. “Didn’t you come here from Kansas City?”

  Adie wanted to gag her with the napkin. Instead she blanked her face. “That’s only where I got on the train. I was raised on a farm.”

  “But you’ve been there,” Caroline insisted.

  Adie tried to look bored. “It’s a big city, Caroline. Lots of people pass through.”

  Mary gave Adie a sideways glance. Of all her boarders, she had the least in common with the former saloon girl, but that changed in a blink. Mary, too, lived with a secret. She saw the trepidation in Adie’s expression and looked at the reverend.

  “Your sister could be anywhere,” she said. “The railroad goes to San Francisco now, or she could have gone to Chicago.”

  “That’s true,” he answered. “But I can’t give up. I have to know she’s safe, even happy.”

  Adie thought of how he’d considered Stephen’s empty belly before the bleeding hole in his own shoulder. He couldn’t possibly be the cruel man who’d driven Maggie from Boston.

  He looked into her eyes. “It’s worse than I’ve admitted. When Emily left Boston, she was unmarried and with child.”

  He’d said Emily, not Maggie. Except Adie recalled the day she’d met Stephen’s mother. I’m Maggie Butler now. Adie had heard “now” and wondered about her past. Her friend, she realized, had changed her name. Adie risked a glance at Joshua Blue, saw Maggie’s nose and decided fear was making her see things. She had to change the subject. “How’s the roast?”

  “Delicious,” Mary replied.

  Caroline snapped at her. “How can you think about food? I’m worried about Emily Blue.”

  “And the baby,” Pearl whispered.

  The reverend turned back to Adie. What did he see? She’d have sold her soul to protect Stephen, but she couldn’t lie worth beans. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

  “I’m desperate,” he said to her. “Emily and I parted with unkind words. It was my fault.”

  Tremors raced from Adie’s chest to her hands. Her throat went dry and the room started to spin. She needed water but didn’t dare lift the goblet for fear of spilling it.

  Bessie interrupted. “What will you do when you find her?”

  “I’ll take her home.”

  “And the baby?” Mary asked.

  “Of course.”

  Pearl raised her chin. “What if she doesn’t want to go?”

  “I won’t force her,” he answered. “But I hope she’ll listen to reason.”

  Adie knew all about “reason.” Reverend Honeycutt had deemed it reasonable for her to leave Liddy’s Grove while Timothy Long got nothing but a talking-to. She’d had to fight him off and had earned bruised ribs in the effort. Fuming, she managed a bite of bread.

  Caroline’s plate sat untouched. “What do you know about the baby’s father?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I hope you find her,” Bessie said. “A single woman could have a hard time, especially with a baby. Do you have a picture of her?”

  Adie went pale.

  “Not anymore,” he said. “I lost it in a river crossing.”

  The women mumbled condolences, even Adie though she felt like a liar. She was glad he’d lost the likeness of his sister. Without a picture she could dismiss the similarities between Emily and Maggie as coincidence. At least that’s what she wanted to believe. In truth, she was already telling lies. Reverend Blue didn’t have a picture of his sister, but Adie had one of Maggie Butler. The tintype, brownish in color, showed an oval of Maggie’s face and was framed by white cardboard.

  The picture had the potential to end this man’s search. If Maggie and Emily were the same woman, it also had the power to rob Adie of her son. Concealing it made her feel dishonest, but she’d made a promise to Maggie. No matter the cost, she had to protect Stephen from his uncle.

  “Adie?” Bessie’s voice broke into her thoughts. “The reverend asked you a question.”

  “Your son,” he repeated. “What’s his name?”

  “Stephen.”

  His eyes turned wistful. “That was my grandfather’s name.”

  How many coincidences could she ignore? Desperate to avoid more questions, she raised her water glass to her lips and took a long sip. The liquid went down the wrong pipe and she choked.

  “Raise your arms,” Bessie ordered.

  The coughing racked Adie’s body. Bessie and Reverend Blue both shot to their feet. He was closer and reached her first. Both gentle and strong, he gripped her shoulder and thumped her back.

  “I’m—” Fine. She choked again.

  He patted harder.

  Adie shoved to her feet. She needed air that didn’t smell like roast and darkness that would hide her eyes as she weighed the facts. She signaled that she could breathe, then headed for the porch, where she coughed until tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Josh hadn’t meant to upset Adie. Since the trip to the bank, he’d figured she and Emily had walked a similar road. Now he was sure of it. Had she been shunned by her family? How had she come to own Swan’s Nest? He also wondered about the father of her child. Any man worth his salt would have married her. Josh wasn’t naive about the force of nature. He’d performed a shotgun wedding in Boston and two others since coming west.

  He’d have performed one for Emily if he’d had the opportunity. Looking back, he saw signs that she’d been keeping a secret. For years she’d volunteered one day a week at the Greenway Home for Orphans. A few months before their argument, she’d been working three days a week and staying late. One day he’d expected her to be visiting Sarah and had paid a call. Sarah had been home, but Emily hadn’t been with her. Three hours later she’d arrived home flushed and vibrant.

  “Wh
ere were you, Emily?”

  “Visiting friends.”

  “Who?”

  “You don’t know them.”

  It had been a clue, and Josh had missed it. He wished now that he’d shown more concern.

  He wouldn’t repeat that mistake with Adie. He wanted her to know he wouldn’t throw stones. Even more important, God loved her. Because of her generosity, the ulcer had started to heal. He wanted to return the favor with food for her soul. He pushed to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak to Adie.”

  “Of course,” Bessie answered.

  He filled Adie’s water glass, then carried it to the porch, where he found her on the swing. He’d intended to call her Miss Clarke, but the name no longer fit. In his mind she’d become a friend, a sister like Emily.

  “Adie?”

  “Yes?” She sounded hoarse.

  “I brought you water.”

  As she sipped, he ambled to the railing. The moon and stars bathed the porch in silver light. When he turned around, he saw Adie’s watery eyes. Choking did that to a person, but she looked distraught for deeper reasons. He gentled his voice. “I’d like to tell you about Emily.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you two have something in common.”

  Tears glistened on her cheeks. She looked terrified.

  Guilt stabbed through Josh’s chest. Had Emily sat on a similar swing, weeping with shame for what she’d done? He blinked and thought of the women of Swan’s Nest. Pearl hadn’t once looked up from her plate. Mary had scowled at him all through supper, a sign that she, too, had resentments. Bessie and Caroline looked like sisters who’d walked a hard road. Mostly, though, he wondered about Adie. The thought tripped him like a wire. He didn’t want her to be special, but she was. She’d fixed his meals and offered him milk. She had a baby who needed a father, a kind heart and a head full of red hair that defied combs and pins.

  Josh had never looked for a wife, nor had he met a woman who inspired such thoughts, at least not until now. Blinking, he flashed back to the times he’d hidden his laudanum bottle. If Adie had found it, she’d have spoken her mind and tossed it in the trash. She’d have held his feet to the fire in a way no one else had dared. Looking at her now, he wondered what it would be like to love a strong-minded woman.