serving girl go with him. He sensed that he wouldn’t be able to get away with that again. Like it or not, he was going to have to go upstairs with one of the girls who worked here at Jessie’s Place.
Not that he wouldn’t enjoy it, more than likely, he reminded himself. He had the same appetites as any other man, and probably healthier than most, when you got right down to it. He had enjoyed the intimate company of a number of women in his life. And he had nothing against gals who worked in houses like this. In fact, his first love had been a whore.
He felt a slight pang as he remembered Jennie and the tragic fate that had awaited her. Jennie . . . Jessie . . . Preacher wondered if the similarity in names was one thing that drew him to the woman who ran this house. In addition to her beauty, of course, and the fact that she hadn’t hesitated to point that little gun at him. She would have used it if she’d needed to, as well. He felt sure of that.
Beaumont slid a cigar from his vest pocket and put it in his mouth. He didn’t light it, but rather said around the tightly rolled cylinder of tobacco, “Whatever you like in a woman, Jim, you’ll find it here. Jessie has more than a dozen girls working for her, and every one of them a true beauty. Redheads, blondes, nigger wenches . . . I believe there’s even an Indian squaw, if you’re looking for something more exotic. I don’t think any of them are younger than fifteen, but if you’d like something of a more tender age, say twelve, I’m sure that can be arranged by the next time we visit.”
Preacher fought down the impulse to step across the room and strangle the sick, evil son of a bitch. He forced himself to say, “No, I reckon just a, uh, regular gal will do just fine for me, Mr. Beaumont.”
Beaumont took the cigar out of his mouth and gave a casual wave with that hand. “Suit yourself.”
Figuring it would be a good idea to continue to make conversation, Preacher asked, “You go with the gals who work here, too?”
“Me?” Beaumont laughed. “I told you, Jim, only the finest things in life for me. And the finest thing in this house . . . is Miss Jessie herself.”
That answer didn’t surprise Preacher, but it made his jaw clench again. He was saved from having to respond to it by the arrival of Brutus, who stepped into the sitting room and said, “The parlor’s ready for you, sir.”
Beaumont put the cigar in his mouth again and bit down on it. “Thank you, Brutus.” He held out a hand for Preacher to go first. “After you, my friend. After what you did, you’re the man of the evening, after all.”
That comment caused Brutus to give Preacher a narrow-eyed glance, and Preacher knew he had to be wondering what Beaumont was referring to. Preacher didn’t enlighten him. Instead, he followed Brutus down a hallway with an expensive rug on the floor. Paintings of nude women and various scenes of debauchery hung on the corridor’s walls.
Preacher felt a little leery about having Beaumont at his back, but the man seemed to have accepted everything that had happened tonight. Preacher had to proceed as if that were true, anyway. He was in too deep to back out now.
Brutus opened a pair of double doors and stood aside to let Preacher enter the parlor first. Again Preacher felt a twinge of unease. There was nothing dangerous waiting for him in the elegantly furnished parlor, however.
Not unless you counted more than half a dozen nearly naked women as dangerous, he corrected himself.
Behind him, Shad Beaumont chuckled and said, “What did I tell you, Jim? And this is only a sampling of the delights available to you here.”
The women were all good looking, all right, no doubt about that. Thankfully, all of them were grown, too. Preacher figured the youngest one was nineteen or twenty. The others were all within a year or two of that age. One had auburn hair flowing around her shoulders, two were blondes, and the others had varying shades of brown hair, from a light chestnut to a deep mahogany. Some were tall, some were short. All of them were well shaped, although there was variation in that, too, from slender and lissome to plush and rounded.
Each and every one of them wore a practiced smile of welcome that hinted at all sorts of carnal delights to come.
Beaumont draped an arm around Preacher’s shoulders and stood beside him, grinning and chewing the cigar. “What do you think?” he asked. “See anything that appeals to you? Nothing like that back on the farm, is there?”
Preacher swallowed hard. He didn’t have to pretend. And maybe this wasn’t going to be such a chore after all, he thought.
“I appreciate this, boss,” he said.
“Well, go ahead. Take your pick.” Beaumont laughed. “Hell, take two or three of them if you want. I’m sure they won’t mind.”
“No, I reckon one will do.”
Preacher ran his eyes over the women. Three of them sat on a divan, and the others had arranged themselves around it. The gauzy shifts they wore revealed just about all the details of their bodies. Preacher would have enjoyed romping with any of them, but his gaze was drawn back to one of the blondes. She was giving him the same sultry smile as all the others, but he thought he detected a trace of impishness in the expression. Her face was rounded and pretty. She had a scattering of freckles across her nose and a little dimple in her chin, which was a little too prominent for her to be classically beautiful. He lifted a hand to point at her and said, “I’d admire to make the acquaintance of that lady right there.”
She stood up from where she had been sitting on the divan and came toward him. Beaumont said, “Ah, you picked our little Cassandra. An excellent choice, Jim.”
Cassandra came to a stop in front of Preacher and held out her hand. “Hello,” she said. “Jim, is it?”
“Yes’m.” Preacher seized her hand and gave it an awkward shake. He knew that probably wasn’t what she was expecting, but “Jim Donnelly” was fresh off the farm and probably didn’t have that much experience with women. “I’m mighty pleased to meet you.”
“You will be,” Cassandra said. “Come with me.”
She started to lead him out of the parlor, but before they could leave the room, Jessie came through the door. She looked every bit as lovely as she had the day before, and the sight of her made Preacher’s heart slug a little harder for a second.
