“I’m just sayin’ he was a lot bigger’n me, but it was him who wound up goin’ down and stayin’ down.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Donnelly. Don’t come back here again.”
Despite her flatly spoken words of dismissal, Preacher knew he had seen a flicker of interest in her eyes. He had made a good point, and she knew it. He let a smile play briefly over his face, but only after he had turned away so that she couldn’t see it.
This was a start, anyway.
Dupree’s was next.
The saloon was closer to the waterfront than Jessie’s Place, but it wasn’t a dive, either. It stretched along an entire city block, with the entrance at the corner. Preacher lingered at a hash house across the street, keeping an eye on the place from a table by the window. He had used up a few more of his precious coins buying some supper, but he had finished that a while back and now the proprietor was casting some hard looks at him from behind the counter.
He was about to stand up and wander out of the place, figuring he would take up a position in an alley and watch from there, when a carriage pulled up in front of Dupree’s. The sun had set, but enough light remained for Preacher to make out the shiny brass fittings and expensive dark wood of the vehicle. A team of four fine black horses was hitched to the carriage, and a black driver in a top hat was perched on the high seat. It sure looked to Preacher like the sort of carriage that a man such as Shad Beaumont would drive around in.
Preacher stood up and strolled out of the hash house so that he could see better as the driver climbed down nimbly from the seat. The man opened the carriage door and then stepped back deferentially. The man who climbed out of the vehicle was tall and wore a beaver hat. A cape was draped over his shoulders. That was all Preacher could tell about him at first.
Then the man turned around and held out a hand to help someone else disembark from the carriage. The light spilling through the big front windows of Dupree’s revealed the man’s face to Preacher in silhouette. It was a handsome face sporting a close-cropped dark beard. The man was smiling.
He had good reason to smile, Preacher saw a moment later as the second passenger stepped down from the carriage. She was a blonde with a mass of curly hair under a stylish hat. Not too tall, but very well shaped and expensively dressed. She said something to the man, who laughed and linked his arm with hers. They went up the steps to the boardwalk and into Dupree’s.
Preacher had continued ambling across the street as if he had no particular place to go and was in no hurry to get there. When he reached the other side, he stepped up onto the boardwalk and looked through the window. The two new arrivals were being ushered to a table in the back by a man in a dark suit who was probably the proprietor.
But likely not the owner, Preacher thought. He was convinced that Shad Beaumont really owned Dupree’s, just as he felt sure Jessie’s Place belonged to Beaumont.
And what about Jessie? Did
Preacher frowned slightly as that thought crossed his mind. Why should it matter to him what sort of arrangement Jessie had with Beaumont? The only reason she might be important was if he could use her to get to his quarry.
He turned toward the carriage, where the driver had climbed to the seat again and was packing chewing tobacco into his cheek. Preacher gave him a friendly nod and said, “Evenin’.”
The man didn’t return the greeting. He was old and wizened and didn’t look like he was in the habit of talking to riffraff on the street.
“Mighty nice carriage you got here,” Preacher went on.
The driver sniffed. “Tain’t mine, and you know it.”
“Yeah, but you get to drive that fine team of horses. I got to say, that’s some of the best horseflesh I’ve seen in a long time. I guess Mr. Beaumont don’t want nothin’ but the best.”
“What Mr. Beaumont wants or don’t want ain’t for the likes o’ you to be talkin’ about.”
That was easy, Preacher thought . . . and about time, too. He said mildly, “Didn’t mean any offense, old- timer.”
Then he turned, pushed the door open, and stepped into Dupree’s.
Chapter 12
The place was a saloon. There could be no mistake about that. Not with the long, hardwood bar that ran all the way down the left-hand wall and then turned to run along the back wall, as well. Round tables covered most of the floor space to the right, although there was an open area toward the rear where people could dance if they wanted to. Some of the tables were topped with green felt for poker playing. There was a roulette wheel as well, although no one was playing at the moment. The air was hazy with smoke from cigars and pipes and filled with talk and laughter from the customers. Chandeliers made from wagon wheels hung from the ceiling. The candles in those chandeliers cast a yellow glow over the big room. The soft light gave the place a certain air of elegance. Even the laughter was subdued, not raucous as it always was in the crude taverns to which Preacher was accustomed.
The bar was crowded, and drinkers occupied most of the tables. A couple of poker games were going on. Preacher found an open place at the bar and bellied up to the hardwood, which had been polished to a high gleam.
A bartender as bald as a billiard ball came over to him. Preacher ordered a beer.
“Let’s see your money first, pilgrim,” the bartender replied.
Preacher slid a coin onto the bar. The bartender picked it up, studied it for a second, and then nodded.
“All right, farm boy. I’ll be back.”
Preacher waited while the bartender filled a pewter mug with beer from a keg. When the man brought it back to him, he nodded and said, “Much obliged.”
