“Donnelly!” he roared. “What the hell happened downriver? I sent you to look out for my interests!”
Beaumont didn’t have a gun in his hand, so Preacher came closer. “We were ambushed, boss. Riflemen were waitin’ in the trees on the far bank when we tried to stop that riverboat. Their first volley wiped out Dugan and most of the rest o’ the boys before we even knew what was goin’ on, and then they picked off the rest of the bunch.”
Beaumont stared at him and said, “But not you. You’re still alive.”
“Only because they figured I was dead, I reckon,” Preacher said. “I can swim pretty good, so when the canoe I was in tipped over, I dove as deep in the river as I could go and swam underwater for a good ways. Those bushwhackers must’ve thought I was either hit by one of their shots, or drowned, or both. When I come up for air, I could still hear some shootin’, but they weren’t aimin’ at me.”
Beaumont’s upper lip curled in a sneer. “So you hid like a coward while everyone else was killed?”
Preacher allowed some anger into his voice as he replied, “I didn’t see how it’d do a damned bit of good to get myself killed, too. There were more’n a dozen of those bastards, maybe as many as twenty or twenty-five. One man wouldn’t have stood a chance against them.”
Beaumont glared at him for a moment longer, then finally shrugged and said, “I suppose you’re right about that. What happened after the ambush?”
“I found a place downstream where a tree fell over in the water and used it for cover while I watched what was goin’ on. Some of those fellas who’d been layin’ in wait for us paddled out to the riverboat in a skiff and took it over. They had the captain at gunpoint, so he had to do what they said. He put the boat ashore, just like you planned for Dugan and the rest of us to do, and some wagons came up and they unloaded the cargo onto ’em.”
Beaumont nodded. “I talked to one of the drivers I hired. He said some men with guns got the drop on them and stole the wagons from them. That’s all he knew, because they had to either get out of there or be killed. I was hoping that not everything had gone wrong . . . but I had a feeling that it had.”
“Sure enough,” Preacher agreed. “Dugan and the rest of the men dead, the cotton gone . . . and that ain’t all of it.”
“What else could there be?” Beaumont snapped.
Grim-faced, Preacher said, “After the wagons left with the cotton, those bushwhackers murdered everybody on the riverboat and set it on fire.”
Beaumont just stared at him for a long moment, as if he couldn’t believe what Preacher had just told him. He seemed genuinely shocked. Finally, he muttered, “My God. Why would they do such a thing?”
“Clean slate, I reckon,” Preacher said with a shrug. “No witnesses left behind.”
“I suppose. I’ve never worried about anyone getting hurt if they got in my way, but to wipe out a whole riverboat crew like that in cold blood . . .” Beaumont’s voice trailed off as he shook his head.
Beaumont might like to believe that was worse than anything he had done in the past, but that wasn’t the case, Preacher knew. Beaumont was responsible for scores of deaths, and he wouldn’t hesitate to order multiple murders if they served his purposes.
But clearly he wasn’t the only one who could be that ruthless.
“You have any idea who would do such a thing, boss?” Preacher asked.
Beaumont shook his head. “No, but I’m going to find out. Whoever they are, they can’t keep something this big a secret for very long. I’ll find out, and when I do . . . they’ll pay. By God, they’ll pay.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help . . .”
Beaumont came forward out of the room and clapped a hand on Preacher’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jim, I’ll let you know. I’m sorry I sent you into that trap.”
“You didn’t know somebody was double-crossin’ you.”
“No.” An insane light glinted in Beaumont’s eyes. “And that’s exactly what happened. Someone knew my plans and hired those men to steal the cotton right out from under me. That’s the only way it could have happened.”
Preacher didn’t want to steer Beaumont’s thoughts in that direction, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop them. He could try to muddle the situation, though.
“Dugan or one of those other fellas could’ve talked too much in a tavern about what they were gonna do,” he suggested. “Some fellas get a little too much whiskey in ’em, they don’t know when to shut up.”
“I suppose that’s possible.” Beaumont rubbed his jaw and frowned in thought. “And if that’s what happened, they’ve already paid for their carelessness with their lives. But I’m not convinced, Jim. I think whoever planned this may still be out there, plotting against me.”
There was more truth to that statement than Beaumont knew. He had all sorts of enemies who wanted to ruin him.
Beaumont put a hand on Preacher’s shoulder again. Preacher managed not to pull away in revulsion. “I’m going to need your help looking into this. You and Lorenzo may be the only ones I can trust. And if there’s something you want to do for me, Jim . . .”
“You name it, boss,” Preacher said, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he had to force the words out.
“Whenever I find out who’s to blame for this, I’m going to give you the privilege of killing him . . . or her.”
Chapter 22
Preacher didn’t like the sound of that. Beaumont might already suspect Jessie.
But a second later, he went on, “Some of those whores at Jessie’s Place are always sneaking around. There’s
