“Sounds to me like you need somebody watchin’ your back trail.”
“That might not be a bad idea. I’m Shad Beaumont, by the way.”
“Jim Donnelly,” Preacher said.
He thought he saw a flicker of vague recognition in Beaumont’s eyes, as if the man knew he’d heard the name before but couldn’t place it. Beaumont said, “Under the circumstances, I’m very pleased to meet you, Jim. Come inside and have a drink with me.”
Preacher cast a dubious glance toward the saloon entrance. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I went in there last night and had a beer, and the bartender told me it ain’t really my sort of place.”
“That was before you were my friend.” Beaumont clapped a hand on Preacher’s shoulder and went on heartily, “Come on. I’ll see to it that you’re treated right.”
“Well, in that case . . .” Preacher grinned. “I’m much obliged.”
“Not as much as I am,” Beaumont said as he ushered Preacher through the doors into Dupree’s.
The same baldheaded bartender was behind the bar tonight. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw Preacher come in with Beaumont. The dark-suited man stood at the end of the bar. He hurried forward with an eager-to- please smile on his face.
“I heard that there was some trouble outside, Mr. Beaumont,” he began. “You have my most sincere apologies—”
“It was nothing to do with you, Wallace,” Beaumont cut in. “Send a bottle of brandy back to my usual table.”
“Of course, sir.”
Beaumont looked over at Preacher. “Or if brandy isn’t to your taste, my friend, you can have anything you like.”
“Well, I don’t really know,” Preacher drawled. “Don’t reckon I’ve ever had any brandy. Just beer and corn squeezin’s.”
Beaumont laughed. “Then you’re in for a treat. Come along.”
He led Preacher to the big table in the back of the saloon, where they could see the whole room before them. Beaumont put his beaver hat on the table and draped his cape over one of the empty chairs.
One of the women who worked there came over to the table from the bar, carrying a tray with a bottle and two wide glasses on it. She was a tall, lanky blonde wearing a gray dress cut low enough to reveal a generous portion of her high, full breasts. She leaned over as she placed the tray on the table, and that made the creamy swells of female flesh even more prominent.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Beaumont?” she asked as she straightened.
“That depends on my new friend here,” Beaumont smirked. “What do you say, Jim? Do you see . . . anything . . . that you’d like?”
“Maybe,” Preacher said. “I’ll think on it.”
“A man who prefers to keep his options open! I like that.”
Beaumont motioned the blonde away. She was pretty, Preacher thought, and likely the man he was pretending to be would have taken Beaumont up on the thinly veiled offer. Hell, Jim Donnelly probably would have jumped at the chance to have a little slap-and-tickle with the blonde.
For some reason, though, Preacher still had an image of Jessie’s face in his mind that made him hesitate. He wasn’t sure why that was true, but he wanted a chance to figure it out.
Beaumont poured the brandy and handed one of the snifters to Preacher. “Once again, thank you for saving my life,” he said as he lifted his own glass.
Preacher clinked his glass against Beaumont’s and nodded. “Glad I was able to lend a hand,” he said.
He took a healthy swallow of the brandy. It went down smooth but kindled quite a fire in his belly when it landed. Preacher’s breath hissed between his teeth.
“Try sipping it next time,” Beaumont advised with a smile. “I imagine it’s a bit more potent than what you’re accustomed to.”
“I don’t know. I’ve had some corn whiskey that’d peel paint right off a wall.” Preacher took another drink, sipping this time as Beaumont had suggested. “This is mighty fine stuff, though.”
“Only the finest for me in all things. That’s how I live my life.” Beaumont leaned back in his chair. “You know, Jim, your name is familiar to me for some reason. How long have you been in St. Louis? We haven’t met before, have we?”
“I just got into town yesterday. And like I said, I was in here last night. If you were here, maybe you saw me.”
“I was here, all right, but that wouldn’t explain why I’ve heard your name. And I’m sure I have. I—” Beaumont stopped and snapped his fingers. “I have it now. You got into some trouble yesterday afternoon at a house on the north side of town, didn’t you?”
Preacher tried to look embarrassed and uncomfortable. “How the hell did you hear about that?”
Beaumont made a sweeping gesture and said, “I hear about everything important that goes on in St. Louis. I have friends and business associates all over town.”
“What
“Whatever makes me a profit,” Beaumont replied. “And nearly every enterprise I undertake
