She was going to be sick as a dog come morning, no matter what she did now, Preacher knew. Damn, but he hated this place! He needed to be back in the mountains, where folks didn’t carry on like this, and if you had enemies, you fought them out in the open.
“You got a housekeeper?” he asked.
“Housekeeper? What do you need . . . a housekeeper for?”
Preacher knew he wasn’t going to be able to get a straight answer out of her. He pounded on the door instead of trying to ask her anything else. After a few minutes, someone jerked open the door, and a heavy-set black woman carrying a lantern peered out.
“What in heaven’s name—Oh, lawsy mercy, what’s wrong with Miz Hobson?”
“She’s had too much to drink,” Preacher said. “You work for her?”
“Reckon you could say that, since her husband done bought me five years ago afore he died.”
Preacher practically shoved Luella into the slave’s arms. “Well, you know how to look after her, then. Good night.”
“Wait just a minute! Is that Mr. Beaumont’s carriage I see parked there in the road?”
“Yeah.”
“You tell him he ought to leave poor Miz Luella alone. She just a poor, lonely woman since her husband up and died, and he takin’ advantage o’ her.”
“Sure,” Preacher said. “I’ll tell him.”
The woman looked at him and sighed. “No, you won’t. I know better.”
“You just take good care of her. Maybe things’ll get better.”
“Not as long as that Shad Beaumont around. And you can tell him I said so!”
A look of fear came over the woman’s face, though, as soon as the defiant words were out of her mouth.
“Don’t worry,” Preacher said. “I ain’t gonna tell him that, either.”
He went back to the carriage and swung up onto the driver’s seat next to Lorenzo. Beaumont leaned out the window and asked, “Any problems?”
“None to speak of,” Preacher said.
“Fine. Lorenzo, drive to Jessie’s Place.”
It looked like Cleve had been right about Beaumont going to Jessie’s later. Preacher’s gut told him this might not be good.
The carriage drew up in front of the big house a short time later. Beaumont climbed out of the vehicle as Preacher jumped down from the driver’s box. “Keep your eyes open tonight,” Beaumont warned as they went up the walk to the door. “That trouble this afternoon tells me that my enemies are getting bolder. They’re not afraid to move against me now. We may be in for a war, Jim. Are you up for that?”
“I’m up for whatever I need to be up for,” Preacher said.
“I hope so. Because even though they’ve started the war—whoever they are—I intend to finish it.”
Brutus met them at the door. “Mr. Beaumont! Good to see you as always, sir.” He turned his head and gave Preacher a curt nod. “Donnelly.”
The freedman was treating him the same way he always had, and that was good, Preacher thought. He didn’t know how much Jessie and Cleve had told Brutus about what was going on. It seemed likely, though, that Brutus was part of their campaign against Beaumont.
As he handed his hat and cape to Brutus, Beaumont said, “Tell Miss Jessie I’m here, will you?”
“Of course, sir. I—”
“Shad!” Brutus didn’t have to tell Jessie, because she was coming along the hall toward them, a brilliant smile on her face. Preacher looked at her and wondered how a woman so beautiful could order the cold-blooded murder of approximately two dozen men, then reminded himself that evil sometimes came in pretty packages. Jessie went on to Beaumont, “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“I had a . . . business reversal this afternoon, and I thought spending some time here might be just the thing to lift my spirits,” he said.
Jessie stepped up to him and ran her hand up and down his upper arm. She hadn’t glanced even once in Preacher’s direction. She was an icy-nerved gal, he had to give her credit for that.
“I’m sure we can find something pleasant to do that will make you forget all about any business problems, Shad,” she murmured.
Beaumont shook his head. “No offense, Jessie. You know how I feel about you. But I think your charms aren’t exactly what I need tonight.”
“No?” she asked with a look of surprise. Her tongue came out of her mouth and ran enticingly along her full upper lip. “Are you sure? You know I’m . . . very good at what I do.”
“Yes, but I had something else in mind. Someone else.” Beaumont’s right hand slowly clenched into a fist. “I thought I’d go up and see Cassandra. I had such a lovely evening with her the last time.”
Chapter 23
Preacher was standing behind and to one side of Beaumont. When Beaumont said Casey’s name, Preacher felt a wave of cold hatred go through him. The hell with this, he thought. His hand moved toward the pistol tucked behind his belt.
Jessie’s eyes widened in apprehension as they flicked toward Preacher. He saw pleading in them, pleading for him not to give the game away. Beaumont must have been too caught up in the evil thoughts filling his head to notice Jessie’s reaction, because he didn’t look around at Preacher.
With a supreme effort of will, Preacher pulled his hand away from his gun before he ever touched the butt of the pistol. He felt the muscles in his arm tremble from the suppressed urge to kill Beaumont.
He wasn’t made this way. The whole plan had been a mistake. He could see that now, but unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one involved. The lives of Jessie and Cleve might well depend on him carrying on with the masquerade.
Relief shone in Jessie’s eyes as she saw that he wasn’t going to kill Beaumont right here and now.
“That’s not a good idea, Shad,” she said. “Cassandra is . . . indisposed.”
“Oh? I’m disappointed.” Beaumont sounded like he could barely comprehend the idea that someone would dare to disappoint him.
“It’ll be better if you come upstairs with me,” Jessie went on as she rested her hand on Beaumont’s arm again.
“I suppose.” Beaumont turned to look at Preacher. “We’ll be here for a while, Donnelly. You can feel free to amuse yourself. After the day you’ve had, I’m sure you can use some diversion.”
“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.