The Preacher's Wife

by Brandi Boddie

His dessert polished off but with no plan in mind, Rowe pushed his chair back and rose from the table. Turning, he spotted his brother for the first time, sitting by himself in a corner. Nathaniel should be in the hotel, recovering from last night’s drunken debacle or making arrangements to leave Kansas on the next rail. Instead he tore heartily into a drumstick and swallowed the foam off a mug of sassafras.

  Two men came into the restaurant and approached him while he ate, their faces insistent and firm.

  “It looks like Nathaniel’s got himself in trouble again. Excuse me, Dusty.”

  “Need some help?”

  “Not right now, I don’t think.” As Rowe advanced upon the three men, he heard their heated discussion.

  “You’re crazy for takin’ her back to the saloon. You didn’t have to drag her like a dog in the streets,” the male in a leather-fringed coat admonished.

  His compatriot, a middle-aged railroad surveyor, agreed. “Whore or not, she’s still a woman.”

  “I did what was necessary to protect my brother,” Nathaniel snapped. “You didn’t stop me when it happened, so don’t bother me while I’m eating.”

  A sick feeling of dread poured over Rowe. “What’s going on here?” He drew their attention.

  The rail surveyor faltered. “That man who says he’s your brother got hold of Miss Pierce, Reverend. He took her down this here road and gave her back to Jason.”

  Rowe glared at his brother. “How dare you?”

  The restaurant patrons paused from their own conversations to see what the commotion was about. Nathaniel swallowed more sassafras soda.

  “You didn’t need her. She’d only bring trouble to you and hurt your ministry.”

  “You don’t know that.” Rowe slammed his fists on the table. The sassafras crashed to the floor. “That’s not for you to decide.”

  The owner rushed to them, ready to clean up the mess and throw all four of the men out. Dusty came up alongside Rowe, his fists balled, ready to stand by a friend.

  “These gents tryin’ to pick a fight?”

  “Nathaniel’s taken Marissa back to the saloon. We have to get her.”

  “It’s too late.” Nathaniel jumped to his feet, pushing past the owner. “Her contract’s renewed once she sets foot in the saloon again. She’s bound to it because she’s still without a husband.”

  It took every ounce of Rowe’s willpower to refrain from driving his knuckles into his brother’s smug face. “You put a sentence on her that wasn’t your right. You’re no brother of mine.” He stomped to the restaurant’s open door. “Go back to Virginia, Nathaniel. I’d better never see you in these parts again.”

  Rowe ran down the street toward the saloon. His body grew hot. Rage swelled within, quickening his legs and sending blood pumping through his chest. His breath came out in deep growls.

  Dusty called behind him. “Don’t go yet. Let me get the sheriff.”

  “Get him, then. Contract or no contract, Marissa isn’t going to work for Jason. It ends today.”

  Marissa talked steel into her spine as Jason pulled her through the saloon. All her years of protecting herself, all her training in survival returned as she passed the familiar faces of Simone and Nellie, who watched in sympathetic stunned silence as Jason pushed her up the stairs.

  “Whatever you hear, keep the patrons from asking questions,” Jason warned Pete from the head of the stairs. The clerk nodded, his nervous gaze barely scraping Marissa’s face.

  Jason pressed the barrel of a gun into the small of Marissa’s back. “Just in case your displeasure at being delivered to me makes you want to run again.” He shoved her down the hall and into his office.

  Jason pulled the chair out from his desk and pushed her into the seat. “Sorry I had to do it this way, darlin’. That’s what hardheadedness will get you when you violate a contract.”

  Marissa rolled her eyes at Jason’s meaningless apology. “I assume you’ll use another term for ‘coerced at gunpoint’ when you draft future retention policies.”

  “You always liked to get those big words out of your books,” he chuckled dryly. “See if there’s any you recognize in this document.”

  He slid a new contract across the desk to her, pen on top. He indicated to the inkwell on her end.

  “Sign it, and we’ll pretend that nothing happened. No charges, no suits against the Arthurs. You can go back to being Arrow Missy. I’ll even let you have your old room again, but no locks on the door this time. You’ll have to earn that privilege.”

  “You may have arranged for me to be dragged here kicking and screaming, but I’ll never put my name on anything that concerns you. Are we clear?”

  Jason snickered. “I’m callin’ the shots, and you’ll get one in the gut if you don’t follow directions.”

  Her eyes never left his. “You wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to bring me back here if you only wanted to shoot me dead. You could have done that in the streets or when you visited Zachary’s shop. Instead you enlisted Rowe’s brother to get me, because you believe I can revive this crooked, rundown hole in the wall.”

  “You grew a bigger spine since you’ve been away.” Jason sounded impressed, although his annoyance at her boldness colored his face.

  “This isn’t going anywhere. I won’t sign.”

  “Do you think this gun can only be used to kill? It can injure too. I can make you a cripple with a bullet to the leg. You won’t be able to dance anymore, but those boys downstairs’ll be real glad you have to make a living off your feet.”

  Marissa’s realization of her former employer’s cruelty reached new heights. Jason was a hustler, a scavenger, and he would always scratch and scrabble in the dirt to get what he thought was rightfully his. Nothing that he ever gained was acquired honorably. Making her unable to walk would allow him complete access to her body without a fight.

  Jason lowered the gun to the ball-and-joint socket at her knee. With the other hand he dipped the pen in the inkwell and flung it at her, splattering black droplets all over the front of her dress.

  “Sign the contract.”

  Rowe ran straight through the swinging saloon doors and headed for the back bar counter. “Bring Jason out here now!”

  “You’re crazed, Reverend.” The barkeep threw down a washrag and reached under the counter.

  Rowe seized the man by the collar and hauled him over the counter. Pete dropped the Smith & Wesson revolver as he hit the floor. Rowe scooped it up before he could reach for it again.

  The two serving girls shrieked. The handful of saloon patrons got to their feet, shouting, laughing, or cursing at the uproar. Rowe scanned the crowd for any signs of more gun brandishing.

  “I won’t say it again.” He called out at them, “Where’s Jason?”

  “He’s upstairs.” A serving girl came forward. “In his office with Missy.”

  Still holding the revolver, Rowe charged up the stairs. Several doors closed off to him. A man came out of one, buckling his belt. A saloon girl followed, screaming when she saw the gun in Rowe’s hand.

  “Jason’s office. Where is it?” He rested the gun at his side, pointing it toward the floor so they wouldn’t think he’d fire on them. He couldn’t afford to dispose of the firearm.

  The girl pointed to a closed door at the end of the hallway.

  “Get downstairs. Now.” Rowe crept past her and the man. Jason could very well be waiting with a gun of his own, since all the noise and screaming gave the proprietor ample warning.

  What a mess he made for barging in, outnumbered by employees and patrons. He could get shot any minute. Still, Marissa needed help, in spite of his rashness.

  I’m sorry, he prayed. Please don’t allow Marissa to be in danger because of me. Just get her out of this place safe and sound.

  Rowe put his free hand on the door knob. It was unlocked. He turned it promptly and kicked it open the rest of the way.

  Jason whirled around, gun in hand. Marissa stared up at him.

>   “Your brother said you might come up here, startin’ trouble.” Jason’s fingers remained on the trigger of the gun. “That’s why I gave Pete a firearm.”

  “Your clerk wasn’t quick enough.”

  “Obviously, since you’re holding it.”

  Rowe kept the revolver barrel on him. “I don’t want to use this. Just let Marissa leave.”

  “Ha! A preacher man with a gun? You couldn’t use it, anyway.”

  Rowe stood at a point where he could see Jason, Marissa, and the stairs, in case anyone climbed up to the second floor. “I was a soldier before I was a minister. If need be, I’ll defend my fiancée.”

  “Maybe, but you wouldn’t risk losing your ministry over a whore. You shoot me, and the town will see you as a jealous client who doesn’t want her to have other customers.”

  “You’re the jealous one, Jason. Marissa told me you raped her. You may have blighted her past, but you will not steal her future.”

  Marissa released a soft gasp. Her eyes shone moist. “You still want me?”

  Rowe kept his sights on both her and Jason. “Marissa, I’m sorry for leaving you the way I did. I didn’t want you to see how furious I got at Jason for what he did.”

  Jason snickered. “You believe that, Marissa? The preacher’s tellin’ you lies. He left you alone because he finally came to his senses. He couldn’t change you. Tell her, Winford. You wanted to prove yourself to the town by makin’ an example of her. You wouldn’t have courted her if she hadn’t left the saloon, now, would you?”

  “She was on her way out before she met me. That’s irrelevant.”

  “Is it? Zachary Arthur’s been trying to get her to live with him and his wife for years. How is it now that you came to town, she works in his store and lives in their house?”

  “Because I took her to them on the night you came close to killing her.”

  “You hear that, Missy?” Jason’s voice escalated into a shout. “He and Zachary planned it. A changed life, a bigger church.”

  “You’re a liar, Jason,” Marissa declared but gazed at Rowe in disbelief. “Tell him, Rowe. Tell him you didn’t use me to try to gain a bigger congregation.”

  “Don’t believe a twisted word that comes out of Jason’s mouth.” Rowe squeezed hard on the gun handle. “I never thought of using you.”

  The saloon proprietor leered. “I must be onto somethin’, by the way you’re holdin’ that gun. Ask him, Marissa. Ask him if he didn’t want to use you to build his church.”

  Her lovely, expression-filled face lifted, sending knots through Rowe’s chest. “Is it true? Did you plan to use me?”

  How could she listen to Jason, a man whose very presence threatened her life, as he tried to get her to reject everything beyond the saloon as a venomous lie? Rowe didn’t disguise the aggravation in his tone of voice as he faced a moment of truth.

  “I saw how sad and trapped you were. Zachary and I agreed that we would help you leave the saloon for the life you wanted. We also thought you could help the town by giving your testimony in church, but no one can make you a Christian, Marissa. As much as I wanted you to become one, I couldn’t decide for you.”

  “That didn’t stop him from seizing the opportunity to influence you and make an example of you for the church. Did it, Reverend?” Jason demanded.

  “You’re full of lies.” Rowe spoke to him, but his words were directed at Marissa. He wanted to lift her and carry her away from Jason’s warped manipulations, but a gun stood in his path. “I had goals for the church to improve, but Marissa wasn’t a pawn. She had the Arthurs as examples of good people who treated her with respect.”

  “Those old idiots always coddled her.” Jason threw snide remarks instead of any significant counterpoints.

  “She chose an alternative to what little you had to offer. I started to fall in love with her from the beginning, yes, but I didn’t steal her from you.”

  “You interfered with how I conduct my business. You shouldn’t mess with another man’s property.”

  “No person is anyone’s property. Release her.”

  Jason moved, whipping the pistol around to aim for him. Rowe ducked into the hallway as the first bullet pierced the door’s wood frame. He reappeared in the doorway, pointing his gun at Jason. He pulled the trigger. The pistol flew out of Jason’s hand as Rowe’s bullet struck the barrel.

  Marissa jumped from her chair and ran to the door. Rowe shielded her as they raced down the stairs and through the swinging entry doors.

  “Rev’ren!”

  Dusty approached, pistol in one hand. “I heard a shot. Where’s Garth?”

  Rowe glanced at the flood of patrons and servers pouring out of the saloon. He pushed Marissa to Dusty. “Get her out of here before Jason tries for her again.”

  “What about you?” Marissa grabbed his arm.

  “I’ll stay behind to explain to Sheriff McGee what happened. Go to the safest place you know, Dusty, and don’t stop.”

  Rowe shielded their backs as they fled down an alley. Seconds later Jason stumbled from the saloon, laughing and cursing. “You! Lookie here.” He halted at arm’s length before Rowe and waved a document in his face. “Arrow Missy’s new contract, signed and completely valid. I got the best ladies this side of Kansas, Reverend. You sure I can’t offer you one of them to compensate your loss?”

  “You have nothing to offer anyone. All of your employees have left you.”

  “They’ll come back, especially the girls. I pay the most. They’re not as warm and firm as Marissa was, but they get my approval.”

  Rowe’s back muscles tensed as his natural male instinct to protect rose in white-hot fury. “You’re worth less than the ground a man spits on.”

  Jason gave him a heavy shove. “Fight me for her, then.”

  “No.” Rowe recovered his stance.

  “What’s wrong, preacher? Scared you’ll lose your witness?” Jason shoved him again. “Fight for your woman.”

  Rowe’s last vestige of composure exploded in a cloud of crimson. Images of a teenaged Marissa, struggling beneath Jason in a fight to escape the assault upon her body, filled his mind. The scars that it left her with, the pain, bitterness, and feelings of shame she bore daily made him lose control. This loathsome swine was responsible for everything wrong in Marissa’s life, nearly every teardrop she shed.

  Jason spit out a string of curse words. “You gonna fight or turn the other cheek for me?” He charged forward and delivered a backhand across Rowe’s face.

  Rowe countered, rearing his fist back and letting it fly. Jason stumbled back, taking the punch. He launched forward a third time. Rowe blocked his hits. Jason’s hard knuckles pummeled him as he struck again and again.

  “Reverend Winford, stop!” Sheriff McGee’s voice resonated in his ears, but it sounded far away.

  Rowe heard the crowd, both men and women now, shouting. Jason’s arms closed around him in a vice grip. He fought the leaner man off, refusing to be held back.

  Rowe drove Jason to the ground to subdue him. The saloonkeeper swung his fist alongside Rowe’s jaw, sending pain shooting up into his temples, following with a sharp kick delivered to his knees. Rowe fell on top of Jason’s chest.

  “You fight almost like a man, preacher.” He spat blood and phlegm on Rowe’s shirt before he pushed him off.

  Rowe jabbed him in the stomach. “You beat upon women. How would you know about being a man?”

  They grappled in the dirt. Dust flew in their eyes and in their mouths. Jason raised the toe of his boot and kicked Rowe in the rib cage.

  Lancing pain formed in his side. Rowe staggered on his knees, drawing ragged breaths. He caught the snide glint in Jason’s eyes as the man moved for another hit. He rolled out of the way of the attack and reared his elbow upside Jason’s head.

  Gunfire rang in the air.

  The crowd silenced.

  Jason slumped to the ground.

  Two pairs of hands seized Rowe. He grunted as a large,
meaty arm dug into his stinging side.

  “Reverend Winford.” Sheriff McGee jerked him to his feet. “You’re under arrest.”

  Chapter 25

  MARISSA JUMPED AT the crackle of gunfire. Women screamed, and the crowd swarmed in all directions, blocking her view of the saloon. She pulled on Dusty’s arm for him to stop.

  “We have to go back. Rowe’s in trouble.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but he told me to see to your safety. That’s what I’m gonna do.” With strength uncommon in men of his wiry, lean frame, he wrapped his arm around her waist and hoisted her atop his horse.

  “Dusty, he could be hurt. Please.” Marissa used the height advantage of the horse to see over the crowd sixty paces behind them. It was so thick that she couldn’t tell whether the people were still watching a fight or crowding around a fallen man. She lost sight of the sheriff.

  Dusty swung into the saddle behind her and sent the horse galloping for the lake path. They passed by the church and Rowe’s cabin. He didn’t speak until they were well on the other side of the path leading to the Charlton farm.

  “I’ll go back to see about him, Miss Marissa. Soon as I get you squared away.”

  “He could be hurt,” she protested again. Misery gnawed in her chest. “The crowd could have shot at or trampled him as they were running.”

  It was noble of Rowe to stay behind to talk to Sheriff McGee, but why did doing the right thing come with a price? The world was filled with men like Jason and Nathaniel whose selfish greed caused so much trouble for others.

  Horses’ hooves clomped behind them, followed by a pair of bickering young voices. Marissa peered around Dusty’s arm to see Sophie and her brother David riding up the road as well. David was trying to make a point to his older sister, who held her chin high, refusing to turn her head in his direction..

  “I’m tellin’ you, Sophie, Reverend Winford fought Jason because of Miss Pierce. There ain’t any other reason why a preacher would go and do something like that.”

  “Don’t say ain’t, David. I’m not disputing your point, redundant as it is.” Her voice retained its practiced, ladylike softness above the acidic undertone. “I find it inexplicable why he would engage in violence for that—that overgrown, underdressed Jezebel. Taken away by the sheriff, no less.”