Preacher's Fire

“Sure, boss,” Preacher said.

Jessie moved to link her arm with Beaumont’s, and for a second, he couldn’t see her face but Preacher could. She mouthed the words thank you at him, then turned to go arm in arm toward the stairs with Beaumont.

Preacher heard laughter and talking from the parlor and knew he could go in there and pick any of the girls who were available to take upstairs. Right now, however, that wasn’t what he wanted. He waited until Jessie and Beaumont had disappeared up the elegant, curving staircase, then turned to look for Brutus.

He didn’t have to search. The big man must have been somewhere close by, waiting for his opportunity. He was already there in the hallway. He rumbled, “Mr. Cleve wants to talk to you.”

“And I want to talk to him,” Preacher said.

“He’s in one of the card rooms. This way.”

Brutus led Preacher to one of the small rooms that opened off the corridor. Inside was a round table covered with green felt, lit by a lamp that hung from the ceiling above its center. The light was concentrated on the table and the chairs around it, leaving the rest of the room cloaked in shadows.

Only one of the chairs was occupied at the moment. Cleve sat at the table laying out a hand of solitaire. As Preacher and Brutus came in, he used his hands to sweep the cards together and left them in an untidy pile in front of him.

“I told you Beaumont would come here,” Cleve said with a smile as he looked up at Preacher.

Brutus closed the door and remained in the room, leaning against the panel and crossing his arms over his massive chest. That was one more indication that he was aware of the plans Jessie and Cleve had made, as well as Preacher’s involvement in them. Cleve wouldn’t have allowed him to stay, otherwise.

“You figured he was so mad over what happened on the river he’d have to let it out by thrashin’ some poor whore?” Preacher said.

“That’s right. Who did he choose? Not Cassandra again, I hope. She’s just now getting back to something approaching normal.”

Preacher pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table without waiting for an invitation. “That’s who he picked,” he said, “but Jessie wouldn’t allow it. She went with him herself.”

Cleve had been idly straightening the cards. At Preacher’s words, he stopped and frowned. “Jessie?” he murmured. He started to get up from his chair, then sank back down and went on, “Nothing to worry about. She won’t let him get away with any ugly behavior.”

“How’s she gonna stop him if he loses control of himself ?”

“She’ll kill him,” Cleve replied with a shrug. “We’d rather keep him alive, of course, so that we can ruin a few more of his plans and steal some more profits out from under him, but if she has to, she’ll cut his throat, or perhaps blow his balls off with that little pistol she carries. That would be most appropriate. The one thing she won’t do . . . is let him hurt her again.”

“So he did whale on her before, the way he did on Cassandra?”

“That’s right. What do you think turned her against him?”

“I don’t know. Greed?”

Cleve shook his head. “Jessie’s not a greedy person. Me, on the other hand . . .” His voice trailed off into a laugh.

“What does she want, then, if it’s not the money?”

“Revenge? Power? Simply to be free of Beaumont, which she knows she never truly will be as long as he’s alive?” Cleve went back to straightening the cards, picking up the deck in his long, slender fingers and tapping it on the table to even the edges. “I’d say that all of those things play a part in her actions.”

“That’s why she was willin’ to have that riverboat crew murdered so they couldn’t tell anybody about me double-crossin’ Beaumont?”

“You found out about that?” Cleve seemed surprised. “The men we hired weren’t supposed to take care of that part of the job until after you were gone.”

“They didn’t wait quite long enough,” Preacher said in a grim, flinty voice. “I heard the shots and went back, saw the riverboat burnin’.”

Cleve shrugged again. “Well, you have to admit, it was effective.”

“Was the fire Jessie’s idea?”

“What?” Cleve shook his head. “Jessie didn’t know anything about that, Preacher. It was all my idea.”

Preacher felt relief go through him. He hadn’t wanted to believe that Jessie was capable of such a thing, but truly, he didn’t really know.

“You didn’t think Jessie came up with that, did you?” Cleve went on. The gambler shook his head. “Even if it had occurred to her that your secret needed to be protected, she wouldn’t have given the order for those riverboat men to be killed.”

“Then why did you?” Preacher asked.

Cleve sat up straighter. “Because someone had to! When I threw in with Jessie on this, I knew I might have to make some of the difficult decisions that she couldn’t make.”

“Like murderin’ innocent men?”

“Beaumont has murdered innocent men. At least, he’s been responsible for it, many times. And you saw what he did to Cassandra. A man like that is worse than an animal, because he knows what he’s doing. He just doesn’t care.”