Preacher's Fire

you? What’s your part in this?”

“You mean, what grudge do I bear against Beaumont?” Cleve shook his head. “None, really. I just think that someone else would be better suited to run things around here.”

“In other words, you. You’re just ambitious.”

“Not that ambitious,” Cleve said with a laugh. “I was speaking of Jessie. She’s the one who should be in charge, not Beaumont. I’ll be quite content just to help her achieve that goal.”

And cash in for himself at the same time, Preacher thought. He didn’t say it, though, because he figured that Jessie was smart enough to have figured it out for herself by now.

She was regarding him with a curious, intent look. “You had something to do with that attempt on Shad’s life, didn’t you? It must have been a friend of yours who shot at him, so you could pretend to save him and get him in your debt.”

“That’d be a tricky thing to do,” Preacher said, impressed that she had figured it out so easily.

“It was a smart thing to do. He trusts you now, because of that. I began to wonder about it when neither Cleve nor I could find out anything about who it might have been that shot at him. Shad has plenty of enemies in St. Louis who’d like to see him dead, but if any of them had worked up the courage to actually try something like that, the word would have gotten around. That meant it almost had to be a stranger. And since you were a stranger in town as well . . .”

Preacher shrugged. It was an admission that she was right.

“And you’re not a farmer from Pennsylvania, either,” she went on. “There’s a sense of danger that seems to follow you around. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a man who’s always so alert for trouble. You didn’t learn that trudging along behind a plow.”

Preacher still didn’t say anything.

Jessie smiled. “I can make a guess who you really are. There’s a man that Beaumont’s afraid of, so afraid that he’s put a bounty on his head. A man from the Rocky Mountains who has ruined several of Shad’s plans and killed dozens of his agents. I think you’re that man, Mr. Donnelly.”

Cleve stared at the mountain man. “You mean that this fellow is—”

Jessie cut him off with a nod. “That’s right,” she said. “I believe that this is the famous Preacher.”

Chapter 18

There didn’t seem to be any point in denying it. Jessie probably wouldn’t believe him, anyway.

“There’s another old sayin’ about a cat bein’ out of a bag, but I don’t believe a Chinaman said it.”

“So you admit that you’re Preacher?”

“Yeah, might as well.”

“Wait a minute,” Cleve said. “I’ve heard of Preacher. He’s just one of those ignorant, unwashed mountain men—”

Jessie silenced him with a look. “Just because a man doesn’t have much education doesn’t mean that he’s unintelligent. I haven’t been to school all that much myself, and I believe I’m fairly smart.”

“Yeah, but you’re a . . .”

“Woman? Is that what you were about to say?”

Preacher chuckled and said to Cleve, “I may be ignorant, but I know enough that when I’m neck-deep in a hole, I stop diggin’.”

Cleve frowned and muttered something, then said, “Sorry, Jessie. I didn’t mean anything. And of course, you’re right. The question is, what are we going to do about him now?”

“We’d be fools to pass up this opportunity to have him on our side,” Jessie said, as if Preacher were no longer in the room. “You know his reputation. You know there are good reasons why Shad fears him.”

Preacher jerked a thumb at the door. “If you folks want me to step outta the room, I reckon I could go out to the parlor. I bet I could find a gal there willin’ to keep me company for a while.”

“I’m sure you could,” Jessie said, “but you don’t need to leave, Preacher. I think we should all work together. We have a common enemy, after all.”

Preacher looked at Cleve. “You feel the same way, gambler?”

“Of course, if Jessie does,” he said with a nod. He opened his coat and put away his pistol, slipping it into a holster somewhere under the garment.

Preacher wasn’t sure he completely believed or trusted Cleve. The gambler had teamed up with Jessie to overthrow Beaumont’s reign because he wanted power and money. Those were mighty good motives.

But they weren’t as pure as the hatred that Preacher and evidently Jessie, too, felt for Shad Beaumont.

For the time being, though, Preacher’s best course of action was to cooperate with them. As he always did, he would just keep his eyes open and be ready for trouble at any time. That way, if Cleve tried to double-cross him somewhere down the line, he’d be ready.

“We’re agreed, then?” Jessie said. “We’ll all work together?”

“Suits me,” Preacher said. “Just one question . . . what do you plan on doin’ next?”

Jessie went back behind the desk and sat down, motioning for Preacher to resume his seat in front of the desk. Cleve remained on his feet, still watchful. His hand didn’t stray far from the place where the pistol was tucked away under his coat.