Preacher's Fire

She stopped in front of him and smiled at him. “So it really is you,” she said. “When Brutus told me, I wasn’t sure whether to believe him. And you work for Shad now.”

“Yes’m.”

“Then you’re welcome here. Just behave yourself.” She gave him a stern look, and he could tell she wasn’t joshing. “No more brawling.”

“No, ma’am,” he said with a shake of his head.

Jessie’s smile came back. “Enjoy yourself, then. Cassandra, make sure Mr. Donnelly is well treated.”

“Don’t worry, Jessie.” The blonde turned her impish smile on Preacher again. “I intend to.”

With a swish of skirts and a whiff of some delicate perfume, Jessie moved past them. Preacher heard her say, “Hello, Shad,” and her voice had an intimacy in it that must have made his muscles react, because Cassandra laughed and said, “The way you’re squeezing my hand, Jim, you must be really eager to get upstairs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They were in the hallway now. Cassandra turned to him and leaned closer so that her breasts pressed warmly against his arm.

“By the time this night is over, you won’t be calling me ma’am,” she predicted.

Chapter 15

She was right. Sometime during the next couple of hours—Preacher was a mite vague about when it was, exactly—she told him to call her Casey, so that’s what he did from then on.

He was lying there in her bed, holding her as she dozed with her head on his shoulder, when a knock sounded on the door. The single candle in the room had burned down to where it cast only a faint, flickering glow. Casey stirred sleepily as the knock was repeated.

“Donnelly.” The hoarse rasp of Brutus’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Mr. Beaumont says for you to get your ass outta that whore’s bed and get downstairs. He’s ready to leave.”

Preacher would have been willing to bet that Beaumont hadn’t phrased the order quite so crudely. On the other hand, maybe he had. Preacher didn’t really know Beaumont all that well yet.

All he really knew was that the man was responsible for the deaths of a lot of people Preacher cared about.

Preacher threw back the sheet and started to get out of bed, but Casey woke up enough to clutch at him and murmur, “Don’t go, Jim. You’re so sweet, and it feels so good just lying here.”

Preacher knew better than to put much stock in whore-talk, but he had to admit, Casey sounded sincere. She snuggled against him with an urgency that seemed real, too.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he told her as he reached up to stroke a work-roughened hand over her blond hair. “When the boss says it’s time to go, I reckon it’s time to go.”

She sighed. “I know. It’s just that I . . . well, Jim, you’re not really—”

“You ain’t about to say that I ain’t like all the other men, are you?”

The words came out harsher than Preacher intended, and as soon as he said them, he wished he could call them back or at least soften them a little.

But it was too late for that. Casey stiffened, and even though a brittle laugh came from her lips, he sensed that he had hurt her feelings.

“Of course not,” she said. She rolled over so that her back was turned toward him. “Good night, Jim.”

“Casey, I didn’t mean—”

“You’d better go. You don’t want to keep Mr. Beaumont waiting.”

That was true enough. And Preacher had learned over the years that once a fella said the wrong thing to a gal, it was damned near impossible to fix it right then and there. It took a little time for her to cool down and stop being so het up.

But chances were that he’d be coming back to Jessie’s Place fairly often with Beaumont, so he’d have the opportunity to see Casey again. Maybe he could make it right with her next time.

He stood up and started pulling on his clothes. “I had a mighty fine time,” he told her.

She didn’t roll over and look at him as she said, “I’m glad.” She didn’t particularly sound like she meant it, either.

Preacher gave a mental shrug and clapped the funny-looking quaker hat on his head. “Be seein’ you,” he said as he went to the door.

Before he could get there, Brutus’s heavy fist fell on the panel again, and he rumbled, “Donnelly!”

Preacher jerked the door open. “I’m comin’,” he said. “Hold your horses.”

Brutus bared his teeth in a grimace. “You’ll learn not to keep Mr. Beaumont waiting.”

Preacher eased the door closed behind him and said, “For what it’s worth, Casey agrees with you.”

“Who?”

Preacher looked over at Brutus and saw that the man wore a puzzled frown. He jerked a thumb at the door and said, “Casey. Cassandra.”