She turned on Jackson as they walked down the street. “He let that man go. He did that on purpose.”
“And he’ll probably let those other two goons go as well,” he said.
“This is impossible. We’re never going to clean up this town and make it right. They’re going to win. I’m going to find myself back in the brothel…”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I’m scared.”
“I’m frightened as well,” he said, rubbing his hand down her back in a soothing gesture. “But we can do this.”
She lifted her head from his chest, and he stared into her emerald eyes, feeling himself falling into a vortex. He covered her mouth with his. Right here, at the corner of Main Street and Church Avenue, he layered his mouth over hers and kissed her like it was his last kiss.
After stepping into the rectory this afternoon and seeing Hannah struggling to fight off the criminals, he’d felt like his world was crumbling. What if they’d hurt her? What if Hannah disappeared?
The thought of them harming her had him holding her tighter. No matter what happened in the coming days, he wanted Hannah to safely get through this, even if he didn’t.
He kissed her like he’d never let her go, and he didn’t want to let her go. She felt like she belonged right here in his arms. Her breasts were smashed against his chest, and he felt himself hardening against her thigh.
If only they weren’t here in the midst of town where anyone could see them. His mind went a thousand different directions on what he’d like to do to her. Things a preacher was taught never to think about. But he couldn’t help himself with Hannah. He wanted her, and if they weren’t in the middle of Main Street, he would have taken her.
“Good evening, Reverend,” a couple called out to him from across the street.
He released Hannah’s lips, staring down into her soul, his breathing heavy and rushed. What was this woman doing to him? Why did he forget everything once he found himself in her arms? And how could he imagine living a day without her by his side?
His parishioners!
“Good evening,” he called, knowing he’d been spotted, and by morning, his congregation would be up in arms about him kissing Hannah. But he didn’t care. All he could think about when he was near her was Hannah. Sweet, delicious, delectable Hannah.
Tilting her head, she stared up at him. “You are a surprise, Reverend. Every time I’m ready to give up, you breathe life back into me.”
Shaking his head, he smiled. “In the literal sense, you’re right.”
Chapter 12
The next morning, Hannah slipped out before Margaret had the opportunity to try to wrangle her into attending that silly women’s function again. The woman had been good to her, but right now, Hannah’s focus must be on locating Elliott, so she could finish her job and get out of Hide Town before her heart was broken once again.
Jackson and she were dancing a dangerous waltz—a waltz where someone was going home hurt. If she wasn’t careful, it would bring one or both of them down.
She dropped into the sheriff’s office and saw both of their prisoners were still being held. She felt a smidgen of relief, knowing they were still locked behind bars.
Strolling down the street, she stopped in and checked with Tim the stable boy to see if he’d seen Elliott.
Nothing.
The man was laying lower than a rattlesnake in a gravel pit. She knew he would soon turn up, but where and when?
Finally, knowing Margaret would be gone, Hannah hurried back to the house, determined to eat a quick bite and go out searching again. The man had to be somewhere in this town, and she would find him.
She’d just finished eating some leftover ham when she heard a knock outside. Suspicious, she pulled her gun and peeked out the window. Two little ladies from Jackson’s congregation stood at the door, dressed prim and proper, their hats shading their faces.
She opened the door. “Hello, ladies,” she said. “Jackson is at the church.”
“Is Margaret here?” one of them asked.
“No, she’s gone to a ladies’ tea. I just came back to grab some lunch. Then I’m leaving.”
“Could we come in?” the older one asked, pushing past Hannah and stepping inside without an invitation.
Shaking her head, Hannah couldn’t help but think that for little church women, they were certainly offensive.
The first woman glanced around the house as if she were looking for evidence that Hannah was sleeping with Jackson.
Hannah stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Come right on in and have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”
These women were coming in whether Hannah wanted them or not. That couldn’t be good.
“Oh no, we won’t be that long. I’m Mabel,” the older lady said, sitting down on the sofa.
“Justine.” Neither woman offered to shake Hannah’s hand.
It suddenly dawned on Hannah how cold they were being toward her, and she realized who their husbands were. A shiver skittered down her spine like a squirrel dancing on a barb wire fence. Both of their husbands had visited the brothel on a regular basis.
Nausea roiled through her stomach like the bow of a ship in a storm. She’d serviced both men. She’d helped them cheat on their wives, and that didn’t sit well with her.
“Margaret should be back in the next hour,” she said, knowing she didn’t want to entertain them long. What could these women want?
“Our business is with you,” the older lady said. “We heard some disturbing news this morning and wanted to hear your version.”
“What?” Hannah asked, not certain as to what they were referring.
“Someone told us that you and the reverend were seen kissing last night on Main Street. Is this true?”
Now it all made sense. They were here to cause trouble for Jackson and her for kissing out in public. Out in the street, he’d laid one on her pretty heavy last night, but they’d just dealt with a life and death situation, not to mention carting two criminals to justice. And it wasn’t like they’d come home and jumped into bed together.
“Yes, the reverend kissed me last night after fighting off two gunmen who were going to kidnap me and harm Margaret,” she said unapologetically. She didn’t care what they thought of her, but she didn’t want to harm Jackson’s prominence in the community.
“Dear…your reputation is hurting the reverend. I know you think a lot of him. After all, the man did save your life.”
“What? No, I saved his life.”
Mabel crossed her legs at her ankles and clasped her gloved hands together. She gave Hannah a frown that clearly showed she didn’t believe her. “Sure you did.”
Stunned, Hannah stared at the two women. “They had beaten him almost unconscious. I rescued him.”
“It doesn’t matter, dear,” Justine said.
“So what are you here for?” Hannah asked, already counting the moments until they left.
Mabel glanced over at Justine. “We just think it would be in the reverend’s best interest if you were to leave town. Quietly disappear, so he does not have to make a choice between the church and you.”
Hannah took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to quell the urge to punch the woman. Of all, the blackhearted things to say. That Jackson would have to leave the church if he continued to kiss her. Sure, she was already planning her departure once this was over, but these women didn’t need to know that. And most certainly, she didn’t appreciate them telling her to disappear. “What makes you think he would have to choose between his church and me?”
“Dear, it’s obvious you’ve not changed if you’re kissing a man on Main Street. The reverend is a nice young man, and we just don’t want him to choose to go down a path that resembles Sodom and Gomorrah.”
Hannah felt like she’d stepped into a blizzard, her blood freezing in her veins. “Sodom and Gomorrah? What’s that?” she asked, preten
ding ignorance, needing to hear them say the words, what they were comparing her to.
“You know, those hedonistic sexual perverts who God punished.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want to go down that path, do we,” Hannah said, anger building like an avalanche screaming down the mountain to cover these women.
“That’s why we think it would be best if you left town and left our reverend alone.”
Nodding while her heart wrenched inside her chest, the truth slammed into her. His church would never accept her, and she wondered why she felt so disappointed. She’d known from the beginning they believed she’d chosen this lifestyle, or maybe they didn’t care and just saw her as soiled goods. Whatever their reasoning, they didn’t want her near their pastor. In fact, they wanted her gone.
No one told Hannah Williams what to do any longer. No one.
“Are you ladies married?” She knew they were. Blinded by their hatred, she could feel the need to respond to their meanness building inside her. This wasn’t going to end pretty.
Mabel smiled, a sweet turning up of her lips. “Yes, John and I have been married for close to twenty years.”
“What about you, Justine?”
“Frank and I have been together close to twenty years as well and have two kids.”
“And your husbands are John Meacham and Frank Clark?”
“Yes,” they both said.
Hannah nodded. “Oh, ladies, I remember them.” Then, shaking her head, she made a sympathetic tsking noise. “I’m so so sorry.”
“What?” Mabel said.
Justine suddenly stood. “Let’s go, Mabel.” Her hands gripped her reticule like her small bag contained a million dollars. She began to pace the floor.
Hannah released a deep breath, crossed her arms, leaned back against the wall, and casually put one ankle over the other. “They must be such an embarrassment for you two women. If you’re worried about Sodom and Gomorrah, are they going to leave town as well?”
Mabel shook her head, looking confused. “Of course not. Why would they need to leave town?”
Hannah smiled at Mabel. “Does John still have that mole just to the right of his pecker? You know the one he calls his star power?”
Mabel’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “How do you…?”
What did she think her husband was doing over at the saloon? Just playing cards and drinking? Hannah knew what she was doing was wrong.
She’d been forced to be a prostitute, but the men hadn’t. She was tired of being beaten down, and she just couldn’t turn the cheek another time. Enough.
“And Frank…” Hannah laughed. “The girls in the brothel used to call him horsey behind his back because he would sound like a braying mule whenever he had sex.”
Justine threw back her shoulders and marched toward the door. “Let’s go, Mabel.”
“That’s not true,” Mabel said. “My John would never…”
Good grief, did Hannah have to give her all the details before this woman believed her man was cheating on her?
“What? Purchase a prostitute? Then can you tell me where he was Saturday night until about eleven? I know he loved to drink whiskey, but he also liked to fool around with the girls. He especially liked Clara and only took me when she was busy and he didn’t have time to wait.”
Justine shouted over her shoulder as she hurried out the door, “Mabel, I will meet you outside.”
“No, wait for me. I’m right behind you.” As she all but ran out the door, she glanced back over her shoulder and shouted, “You’re evil! Filled with the devil.”
Hannah couldn’t stop herself. “Not anymore.”
Mabel almost ran over Justine. She couldn’t get away from Hannah quick enough.
Hannah walked to the open doorway and called out, “Ladies, Margaret will be back just any time now. Are you sure you don’t want to wait?”
Screaming in horror, the two women hurried down the path to the street, away from the house, with Hannah close on their heels.
Dang it, if they were going to come where she was staying to make her feel bad, she would give them back tenfold.
“Does this mean you won’t be inviting me over for tea?” she called from the front step. “I was really wanting to get into the quilting group. Next time give me some notice, and I’ll be sure to have cookies baked.”
Mabel turned and shook her fist at Hannah one last time. “Harlot. You’re the spawn of the devil!”
“Bye, ladies. I enjoyed our chat,” she called out before slamming the door.
All the bravado she’d felt buoying her suddenly melted onto the floor like a snowman in July, leaving her an emotional, mad wreck.
She was trying to face her past and trying to no longer be a victim, but it was hard when people couldn’t see beyond the woman who’d been forced to work in a brothel. It didn’t matter to some people that she’d had no choice. Once a soiled dove, always one. No forgiveness, just live as an outsider not accepted by society, or return to the brothel.
Sitting in the living room with her head in her hand, she thought about what the women had said. She was ruining Jackson’s reputation. She was endangering Margaret and Jackson, while eating his food and sleeping in his guest bedroom.
What was she thinking?
She needed to leave now before he came home, before Margaret returned and tried to convince her to stay. She needed to leave before her heart became entangled with Jackson’s any further. There was no hope for romance between the preacher man and the soiled dove. No chance at all.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and before she could change her mind, she hurriedly packed her few belongings and left the house.
She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong with Jackson. She didn’t belong with any man.
Jackson loved being a preacher, but dealing with some members of his congregation was like walking barefoot through a cactus patch. Thorny, dangerous, and just painful. When Mabel and Justine had come to the church early this morning to warn him about the sins of Hannah, he’d done his best to be polite and listen to the ravenous women, but they both had eligible daughters they wanted him to court, which blinded them to the scriptures about forgiveness. Though he’d pointed them in that direction and ushered them out the door.
Tonight, he hoped Hannah, Margaret, and he could have a quiet dinner, and afterwards, maybe read a while before they each went to their own beds—where he would lie awake and listen for the sound of Hannah’s breathing, hoping she would sneak down the hall to his bed, realizing he was being foolish for even considering that she would want him. The brothel had turned her against love.
He had to show her she deserved happiness just as much as any other woman or man, but she didn’t want a man. And could he blame her? The brothel had stripped her of the normal desires between a man and a woman.
Margaret met him at his front door, her gaze worried. “Have you seen Hannah?”
“No, why?” he asked.
“She’s not here, and her things are gone,” she said, wringing her hands. “I’m worried about that girl. Do you think she’s been kidnapped?”
Fear clutched at Jackson’s chest and spiraled down his spine like a rattler slithering through the grass. “They wouldn’t have let her take her things, if she’d been kidnapped.”
“Maybe that madam took her things, so it would look like she went back to that den of sin.”
Shaking his head, he glanced across the street and saw the small building where they worshipped. The day had started off with a visit from his snootiest, most backstabbing congregation members, the ladies who stirred up more trouble than a duststorm during a drought. “You attended the luncheon today.”
“Yes,” Margaret said, exasperated. “Some Christian women need to be reminded about how fortunate they are.”
The memory of him kissing Hannah on the street last night had stayed with him all day. He’d enjoyed every minute. But looking back, he realized it would have been better
if they hadn’t been out in the middle of town, where everyone could observe them.
Jackson smiled at the older woman, knowing last night’s kiss would be zipping through town faster than a Pony Express rider. “What was the topic of conversation?”
“At the luncheon, you and Hannah. Some women in that church think there is hanky-panky going on in this house. I set them straight right away that this girl is a sweet woman who’s been dealt a bad hand in life. I quoted scripture to them, but I don’t know if they heard.”
People didn’t want to hear the scriptures that reflected their life. They only wanted the ones pointed toward their neighbor.
“Did they mention seeing us kiss last night on Main Street?”
“Yes. I wondered what you were thinking, Jackson. That was hardly the time or the place to show your affections.”
Oh, knowing these women, they’d probably made a beeline straight to his house, when they couldn’t get his attention this morning.
He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re right, Margaret. But sometimes the spirit moves you and that’s where it happened. I think I have a good idea of why Hannah left, and I know the only place she’d go.”
He grabbed his Stetson from the peg beside the door, where he’d hung it less than five minutes ago and shoved it on his head. “I’m going to fetch her.”
Walking out the door, he heard Margaret yell, “Don’t you think you should tell me where you’re going in case something happens?”
Knowing she was right didn’t stop his feet from moving forward. Hannah was in danger, and while he knew she’d argue with him, he wasn’t going to let her sneak back to that little cabin and live there alone. He didn’t give two hoots and a holler what his congregation thought about her living with him. The woman needed his love and support. And he got the feeling that today his parishioners had reached out and given her a shove out the door.
Well, it wouldn’t work.
Hannah had missed the coziness of the little cabin. She’d forgotten how this place had been her own little hideaway up until the night she’d rescued Jackson. That night seemed so long ago, though it’d only been weeks. Yet, so much had happened since the day she’d rescued him from the madam’s goons.
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