Читать книгу The Maverick Preacher - Victoria Bylin - Страница 11

“Don’t let him inside!”

“I won’t,” Adie said to Pearl.

The two women were in the front parlor. They’d been on the porch when Pearl had spotted a carriage coming down the street. Terrified of Franklin Dean, she’d run inside with Adie behind her. Together they were peering through the lace curtain at a brougham that belonged to the banker. In the front seat sat Mr. Dean’s driver, a stocky man dressed in a frock coat and black bowler.

Adie’s gaze skittered to the back of the open carriage where she saw the banker folding a copy of the Rocky Mountain News. Some women would have found Mr. Dean handsome. He had dark blond hair, brown eyes, a mustache and what her mother had called a lazy smile, the kind that curled on a man’s lips with no effort at all. In Adie’s experience, smiles were rare and had to be earned.

She didn’t trust Franklin Dean at all. She’d felt uncomfortable the instant they’d met, and those suspicions had been confirmed when she’d heard Pearl’s story. A preacher’s daughter, Pearl had been engaged to the banker when he’d taken her for a buggy ride. Dean claimed that they’d succumbed to temptation, but Adie knew otherwise. Pearl had told her about that horrible afternoon. She’d protested. She’d pushed him away. He’d pushed back and left her ashamed and carrying his child.

Adie put her arm around Pearl’s shoulders. “Go upstairs. I’ll see what he wants.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“Yes, you can.” Adie made her voice light. False courage, she’d learned, counted for the real thing if no one saw through it.

“But—”

“Go on.” Adie pointed Pearl to the stairs. “I can handle Mr. Dean.”

The carriage rattled to a stop. With her eyes wide, Pearl stared at the door, then at Adie. “I’ll hide in the kitchen. If he tries anything, I’ll scream for help. I’ll get a knife—” Her voice broke.

Boots tapped on the steps. Adie nudged Pearl down the hall, then inspected herself in the mirror. She’d planned to walk to the business district to pay the mortgage and had already put on her good dress. Thanks to the rent from Reverend Blue, she had enough money for the payment and roast beef for supper. She’d put Stephen down for a nap and had been looking forward to a peaceful walk. Quiet afternoons were few and far between. She refused to let Franklin Dean steal her pleasure.

He rapped on the door.

Adie opened it. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dean.”

He tipped his hat. “Miss Clarke.”

It galled Adie to be pleasant, but riling him would only lead to trouble. She forced a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“May I come in?”

She stepped onto the porch and closed the door. “It’s a lovely day. We can speak out here.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve come to see Pearl.”

“She’s not accepting visitors.”

“I believe I’m the exception.”

No, he was the reason. The July sun burned behind him, turning the street into a strip of dust and giving his face craggy lines. Adie couldn’t stand the sight of him. He’d hurt Pearl the way Timothy Long had tried to hurt her. He swaggered the way she’d imagined Maggie’s brother strutted in his fancy pulpit. She had to convince him to leave.

“Pearl’s resting,” she said.

“You’re lying, Miss Clarke.” His lips curled into the lazy smile. “She was sitting by the window.”

“How would you know?”

“Am I wrong?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

Her voice rang with confidence, but her insides were quaking. He’d been too far away to see Pearl through the glass. Had he been watching her house? She thought of the rock that had shattered her bedroom window. Fear gripped her, but she met his gaze as if they were discussing lemonade.

Dean rapped a walking stick against his palm. Over and over, he slapped his own flesh as if he didn’t feel a thing. Adie had been beaten with bigger sticks and knew when to keep quiet. She also knew that Franklin Dean wanted to drive her out of Swan’s Nest so he could sell the property for a higher price than she’d negotiated with his father. Between silver mines and gold strikes, farms, ranches and the arrival of the railroad, Denver had been dubbed the Queen City of the Plains. Adie’s house stood on prime land and Dean wanted it back.

He couldn’t have it. She forced herself to appear blasé.

He slapped the walking stick against his palm a final time. Gripping it tight, he smiled as if nothing ugly had passed between them. “I’m rather thirsty, Miss Clarke. I’d enjoy a glass of sweet tea.”

“I’m fresh out.”

“Water, then.”

He wanted to get in the house and corner Pearl. No way would Adie open the door. “I was about to leave for town, Mr. Dean. If you’ll excuse me—”

“No, Miss Clarke. I won’t excuse you.” His eyes burned into hers. “I want to see Pearl.”

“Like I said, she’s resting.”

He glared at her. “The mortgage is due today, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“My timing’s excellent,” he said. “I’ll collect payment and save you the trip to the bank.”

“No, thank you.” Adie never dealt with Dean when she made her payment. She always visited the same teller, asked for a receipt and stowed it in the trunk. They were that precious to her.

Craning his neck, Dean peered through the lace curtain hanging in the parlor window. Adie turned and followed his gaze to Pearl, her belly large and round, as she peered around the corner and out the window.

He rapped on the glass. “Pearl!”

Startled, the girl slipped back into the hall that led to the kitchen. Dean made a move for the front door, but Adie blocked him. He pivoted, went down the steps and turned down the path that led to the garden behind the house. Adie raced after him.

“Stop!” she cried.

“I have business with Pearl.”

“You’re trespassing!”

Ignoring her, he strode past the vegetables she’d planted in place of flowers and rounded the corner to the back of the house. He was headed for the door, but he hadn’t counted on Joshua Blue blocking his path. The scarecrow in the garden had more meat on its bones, but the reverend had a fire in his eyes that scared Adie to death.

After two days in bed, Bessie’s care and a gallon of goat’s milk, Josh had felt the need for fresh air. He’d gone out the back door, taken in the garden and stepped into the carriage house. He’d been checking his horse when Pearl had run into the outbuilding. Shaking and out of breath, she’d closed the door and hunkered down behind a partial wall before she’d seen him.

Josh approached as if she were a downed bird. “Are you all right?”

She gasped. “It’s Franklin Dean. He—” She burst into tears.

Josh didn’t know a thing about Franklin Dean, but he knew about evil men. “Where’s Miss Clarke?”

“He tried to get in the house,” Pearl said, whimpering. “Adie stopped him.”

Josh strode out of the carriage house. As he emerged in the sun, he saw a man headed for the back door of Swan’s Nest. Adie was running behind him, ordering him to stop. One look at her face and Josh knew she’d fight this man. Pearl’s fear explained why. Her belly testified to a deeper reason, one that made Josh furious. Stifling his anger, he looked the man up and down. The stranger didn’t match Josh in height, but he weighed at least fifty pounds more. The difference came from both Josh’s belly trouble and the man’s indulgence. Whoever he was, he didn’t skip dessert.

Josh blocked the path to the back door. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Who are you?” the man demanded.

“A guest.”

He smirked at Adie. “I thought you didn’t rent to men.”

“I don’t.”

Dean huffed. “I see.”

“No, sir,” Josh said calmly. “You don’t see. You’re trespassing.”

“I’m Franklin Dean.”

He said it as if he expected Josh to bow down.

Adie interrupted. “Mr. Dean owns Denver National Bank. He holds the note on Swan’s Nest.”

Josh didn’t care if he owned the entire town. “That doesn’t give him the right to trespass.”

“You have no business here, Mr.—”

“My name is Joshua Blue.” Josh spoke with his richest Boston accent. “My family—”

“Has shipping interests,” Dean finished.

“Among other things.”

Dean’s smile turned oily. “What brings you to Denver, sir?” He smelled money and it showed.

Josh found him revolting. “It’s a private matter.”

The banker’s eyes narrowed. “So is my business with Miss Oliver.”

Not in Josh’s opinion. Her belly made the matter between them public. He didn’t know the details, but he knew Pearl feared this man. At the sight of her, he’d recalled Emily and felt all the inclinations of a brother. Looking at Dean now, he wanted to deck the man for his arrogance. He settled for being direct. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“Not until I speak to Pearl.”

Short of violence, Josh didn’t see a way to get rid of the man. He’d have to outlast him. Josh had his flaws, but impatience wasn’t one of them. He’d spend all afternoon with Dean if meant protecting Adie and her boarders.

“Fine,” Josh said. “I’ll wait with you on the porch until she’s ready.”

Dean frowned.

Adie interrupted. “I have a better idea, Mr. Dean. I’ll tell Pearl you’re concerned about her health.”

“I am.”

“If she’s up for a visit, I’ll send word to you.”

Josh watched the banker’s face. He didn’t want to leave, but Adie had given him a way out that saved his pride.

“Very well,” Dean said. “When you bring your loan payment, I’ll expect a note from Pearl.”

Adie gave a crisp nod. “I’ll speak with her.”

Dean glared at Josh, tipped his hat to Adie and walked down the path to the street. Josh followed him with his eyes, watching as he batted at a weed with his walking stick. When he rounded the corner, Josh turned to Adie. When he’d seen her chasing after Dean, she’d reminded him of a robin chasing down a worm. Now, in spite of the sun on her reddish hair, she looked subdued.

Josh raked his hand through his hair. “He’s trouble, isn’t he?”

“The worst kind.”

“If there’s anything I can do—”

“There isn’t.”

As she straightened her spine, Josh noticed her gown. Instead of the brown dress she usually wore, she’d put on a blue calico that made him think of the ocean. Adie Clarke, he decided, had the same sense of mystery. She seemed calm on the surface, but unseen currents churned in her hazel eyes and turned them green in acknowledgment of the dress.

The door to the carriage house creaked open. Pearl peeked from behind the heavy wood. “Is he gone?”

Adie hurried to her friend’s side. “He just left.”

“Good riddance!”

Josh thought so, too.

Adie put her arm around Pearl’s huge waist. “If you’ll excuse us, Reverend. Pearl needs to lie down.”

“Of course.” Except Adie had a need as well. She had to deliver the mortgage payment. Josh decided he needed a walk. He fell into step with the women, held the door and followed them inside.

Adie gave him a harsh look. “Do you need something, Reverend?”

“No, but you do.”

“I can’t imagine what.”

Josh liked her spirit. After the ordeal with Dean, some women—and men—would have been cowering in the closet. Not Adie Clarke. She’d walk on hot coals for someone she loved. So would Josh. Adie wasn’t Emily, but for now he could treat her like a sister. “I’m going with you to the bank.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Pearl dropped onto a chair. She looked exhausted. “He’s right, Adie. You shouldn’t go alone.”

“And I need the fresh air,” Josh added.

“But your shoulder—”

“It’s much improved.” He rolled his arm to test it. His belly still hurt, but he didn’t pay attention. It always hurt, and it would until he found Emily.

Adie looked annoyed, an expression Josh found refreshing. In Boston, the members of his church had deferred to him. On the open trail, outlaws had put up with him. Adie didn’t belong in either camp. She treated him with common sense, as if he were an ordinary man. He also admired her sweetness with Pearl. In spite of the pressure from Dean, she hadn’t asked her friend to write a note.

Pearl looked at Josh. “She’s stubborn.”

He smiled. “I noticed.”

“I am not.” Adie wrinkled her brow. “I don’t need company to go to the bank. Besides, I have errands to run.”

“Good.” Josh hooked his thumbs in the trousers. “I need to pick up a few things, like suspenders.”

He’d hoped to lighten the mood and it worked. Pearl patted her tummy. “I don’t have that problem.”

When her friend smiled, Adie’s face lit up with pleasure. “I’ll bring you some peppermint candy. Would you like that?”

Pearl’s eyes brightened. “I’d love some. It settles my stomach.”

Josh had known expectant mothers in Boston. They’d all been wealthy and married, secure in love and protected by their husbands. Franklin Dean had robbed this sweet girl of that sanctuary. Someone else had robbed Adie of a husband. Emily had been robbed, too. Josh felt good about escorting Adie to town. He couldn’t change the past, but he could help these women in the here-and-now.

“It’s settled,” he said. “I’m going with you to the bank.”

Adie frowned. “You’re pushier than Mr. Dean.”

“Only for a good cause, Miss Clarke.”

She sighed. “If you insist, but—”

Pearl interrupted. “I insist. This is all my fault.”

Adie put her hands on her hips. “Nothing is your fault, Pearl. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Except she looked down at her toes.

Josh’s mind flashed back to Emily asking to speak with him in his study. Like Pearl, she’d mumbled and stared at her feet. Josh would regret his first words until his dying day. He’d called his own sister a foul name. He’d ordered her to give the baby away. And for what? His pride…his reputation. What a hypocrite he’d been. In truth, he’d committed worse sins than Emily. By condemning her, he’d denied her the very mercy Christ had shown him and every other man.

Looking at Adie and Pearl, he felt the full weight of his failings. Men had a duty to protect the women they loved. Mothers. Sisters. Wives. He’d failed on two counts. Not only had he harmed Emily, but his mother had died two years ago when he’d been numb with laudanum. If he’d been clear-headed, he might have convinced her to see a doctor for her dizzy spells. As for the third kind of woman—a wife—Josh had vowed to never marry. Without a wife and children, he could pursue his work every minute of the day.

Even without the inclination to marry, he felt protective toward all females. That included Adie and her friends…especially Adie. Annoyed by the thought, he pushed it aside. So what if he liked red hair? He had a call on his life, and that would never change.

“I’ll get my coat,” he said to the women.

He went to his room, where he lifted the garment off a nail and put it on. After Adie made the payment, he’d excuse himself for a bath and a haircut. At the barber, he’d ask about pawnbrokers.

He went to the entry hall, where he saw Adie at a mirror, tying the ribbons of her bonnet. She’d lifted her chin, giving it a defiant tilt. She looked too young to be a mother, but Stephen was living proof. As she gave the ribbons a tug, Josh found himself admiring the way she faced problems. She didn’t duck the truth, neither did she shy away from facts that couldn’t be denied. He wished he’d had a friend like Adie in Boston, someone who’d have made him look in the mirror as she was looking in it now.

“I’m ready,” he said.

“Me, too.” She lifted a drawstring bag and clutched it with both hands.

Josh opened the door and let her pass. It had been a long time since a woman’s skirt had brushed over his boots. In Boston, he’d put that awareness out of his mind. He tried to do it now but couldn’t. Losing Emily had made him conscious of the simple things women did to soften a man’s hard edges, things like smiling and noticing flowers.

As he followed Adie through the front door, he took in the walkway and manicured shrubs. He’d arrived at Swan’s Nest in the dark and hadn’t noticed the surrounding area. Another mansion stood catty-corner across the street. As they walked down the road, he saw a third home. Set back on a large parcel of land, it was half-demolished. He wrinkled his brow in surprise. “Why is it being destroyed? The house looks almost new.”

“It’s five years old.”

“Seems like a waste.”

Adie stared straight ahead. “It is, unless you plan to build five houses in place of one.”

Josh put the pieces together. “That’s why Dean’s harassing you. He wants Swan’s Nest so he can tear it down.”

“That’s right.”

She glanced at the demolished remains, now three hills of ragged gray stone. “Mr. Dean bought that house last month. I knew the couple who owned it.”

“What happened?”

“Bad investments.” Her lips tightened. “The husband owned a silver mine. When it went dry, they lost everything.”

“And Dean bought the house.”

“For a song.”

Josh thought of his cousin in Boston. Elliot liked money, but he wasn’t a squirrel about it. He gave away as much as he kept. Sometimes more. A little competition might do Dean some good.

“Tell me more,” Josh said.

“That’s all I know.” Adie made a show of inhaling and raising her face to the sun. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Small talk couldn’t get any smaller than the weather. Josh gave her a sideways glance and saw the set of her jaw. In his experience, people were quick to talk about news and scandals. Considering Dean’s visit and the demolished house, he found the change in subject odd, even suspicious, but he followed her lead.

“Summer here is dry,” he said. “It’s quite a change from Boston.”

“I’d imagine so.”

Was it his imagination, or did she look frightened? As they passed a third mansion, a stone monstrosity with turrets and a flat roof, she changed the subject again. She told him about the vegetables she’d planted and why she preferred beans to squash. In other words, she told him nothing. Women usually bragged on their children. Adie didn’t mention her son once. Neither did she breathe a hint of how she’d come to Denver.

Josh knew about secrets. He’d kept his own. He’d also ridden with men who said nothing and others who told lies. Adie was intent on building a wall of words. Josh didn’t mind. After months of gruff male talk, he was enjoying the singsong quality of her voice and the simple pleasure of walking by gardens filled with flowers.

As they neared the heart of Denver, her chatter faded to stray comments about the shops. She stopped talking altogether when they reached a church. Made of rusticated stone, the building had a tall bronze steeple and massive stained glass windows. He’d never seen such beautiful work, not even in Europe. He looked at the pitch of the roof and imagined a vaulted ceiling and the echo of a choir. He blinked and saw mahogany pews filled with people. He pictured a podium carved with an eagle. He’d used such a podium in Boston. He’d never use one again, but he could appreciate the beauty of the church simply as a man.

He glanced at the double doors, then at Adie. “Let’s go inside.”

“No, thank you.” She clipped the words.

Josh would respect her wishes, but he needed to open the door for himself. He turned up the steps. “I’ll just be a minute.”

She kept walking.

The church could wait. Adie couldn’t. He caught up to her in three strides and saw a glint in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s none of your business.”

Josh had used the same tone when a church elder questioned him about the laudanum. “I don’t mean to pry—”

“Then don’t.”

“You seem upset.”

“Upset?” Her expression turned murderous. “Franklin Dean goes to that church. Pearl’s father is the pastor.”

He knew that Dean had harmed Pearl. Even if a woman welcomed a man’s advances, he had an obligation to protect her, to say no for both of them until the benefit of marriage. As for Pearl’s father, had he shunned his daughter the way Josh had rejected Emily? He needed to know. If he could spare Pearl a minute of suffering, he’d tell his story to her father.

“Tell me more,” he said to Adie.

She stopped in midstride. When she looked into Josh’s eyes, he knew he’d hear the truth and it would hurt.

“He raped her,” she said in a dry whisper. “They were engaged. He took her on a buggy ride and he forced her.”

Emily’s face, tearstained and afraid, flashed in front of his eyes.

“Go on,” he said.

Adie’s voice quavered. “The next day, Dean went to Pearl’s father. He ‘confessed’ that they’d gone too far and asked for permission to marry her immediately. Reverend Oliver ordered her into the parlor. He made her stand there and listen to that snake apologize. Her own father acted as if she’d been as sinful as Dean.”

A year ago Josh hadn’t listened to a word Emily said. He still didn’t know who’d fathered her child, if she’d been raped or seduced by a scoundrel. Maybe she’d been in love. Josh had stayed beyond such feelings until the disastrous river crossing. Cold and shivering, he’d watched husbands and wives cling to each other, sharing tears and kisses. That night, he’d known the deepest loneliness of his life.

Looking at Adie Clarke, he felt that loneliness again. She had a way of standing up to people, including men like himself. He liked her spirit and wondered how it would feel to have her fighting at his side. He blocked the thought in an instant. He had no interest in marriage, no plans to settle down. He had to find Emily.

Adie’s cheeks had faded back to ivory. “Pearl left home that night. I found her the next morning, throwing up in my garden.”

“Did she ever tell her father?”

“She tried, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Poor fool, Josh thought. “He needs to know.”

Adie huffed. “He said what happened was private and he didn’t want the whole church gossiping about his daughter. He told her to get married and keep quiet.”

Josh grimaced. “Dean committed a crime. What about the law?”

Adie glared at him. “Who’d believe her? They were engaged. She went with him willingly. Alone.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Her cheeks flamed again. “Franklin Dean owns half of Denver. That’s why he’s still on the elder board. People are afraid to confront him, even the other elders. I don’t know if Reverend Oliver tried to get him thrown off or not, but I doubt it. From what I can see, he cares more about his reputation than his daughter.”

The same shoe fit Josh. “I see.”

“Do you, Reverend Blue?”

He bristled. “I know about sin, Miss Clarke. I’ve seen arrogance, greed and male pride. None of it’s pretty.”

Her expression hardened. “You don’t know what it’s like to be Pearl. I do.”

Her eyes turned shiny and she blinked. Josh had seen women cry. He’d visited sick beds and spoken at funerals, but he’d never been alone with a woman’s tears except for the night he shunned Emily. He’d pushed his own sister away, but the urge to hold Adie flashed like lightning. It startled him. The lingering thunder unnerved him even more. A reaction, he told himself…A man’s instinct to protect a woman and nothing more. He settled for offering his handkerchief.

“No, thank you.” Adie frowned at the monogrammed linen. “I shouldn’t have told you about Pearl.”

“I’m not naive,” he said gently. “My sister got in trouble, too.”

Adie paced down the street, almost running to put distance between them. Josh didn’t understand her reaction. She’d already revealed the truth of her son’s birth, and he hadn’t judged her for it.

He wanted to ask her about Emily, but he knew she wouldn’t answer. Instead he caught up to her and walked in silence, recalling the times he’d asked strangers if they’d seen his sister. Most said no without thinking. He’d learned to ask less obvious questions. That’s how he’d traced Emily to Kansas City. He’d shown her picture to a clerk in a St. Louis pawnbrokerage. The man had shaken his head. Later he’d recalled a woman asking for directions to the train station.

The bank loomed on their right.

“We’re here,” Adie said.

He stepped ahead of her and held the door. As he followed her inside, he saw a teller cage, a cherrywood counter and a clerk in a white shirt. To the right, a waist-high railing surrounded a massive desk. A leather chair resembled an empty throne, and a low shelf boasted artwork. Josh found himself staring at marble sculptures depicting Greek gods, cherubs and women. The mix made him uneasy. Franklin Dean was nowhere in sight, so he stood back as Adie made the payment.

As she tucked the receipt in her bag, he guided her to the door. The instant it closed behind them, she looked jubilant.

“Thank you, Reverend.”

“For what?”

“Your rent helped to pay my mortgage.”

She made him feel like an errant knight. “My pleasure, Miss Clarke.”

“I’m making a roast for supper. I hope you’ll join us.”

Her hazel eyes shone with happiness. Josh liked roast, but he liked this woman even more. Common sense told him to avoid Adie and her autumn eyes, but supper would give him a chance to ask her boarders about Emily.

“I’d be grateful,” he replied.

Concern wrinkled her brow. “Is your stomach strong enough? I could make you a custard.”

Babies ate custard. Men ate meat. As kind as it was, Adie’s offer irked him. “My digestion’s much better.”

“Good.”

Having supper with five ladies made a bath a priority. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to run an errand of my own.”

“Of course.”

As Adie retraced her steps down Colfax Avenue, Josh headed for the part of town where he’d find a bathhouse among saloons and gaming halls. Tomorrow he’d come back to this sorry place and ask about his sister, praying he’d find her and hoping it wouldn’t be in an upstairs room.

Maybe she’d found a sanctuary like Swan’s Nest. The thought cheered him. It also raised questions. Adie’s dress, a calico with a high neck and plain buttons, spoke of a simple life. She worked hard to care for her boarders. How had she come to own a mansion, especially one with the air of old money? She kept one parlor closed, but the other had a marble hearth, cornices and wall sconces. An oriental rug protected the hardwood floor, and the latest flowery wallpaper lined the hall. While most of the Denver mansions were made of stone, someone had spent a fortune to haul in wood for siding.

Most notable of all, a stained glass window adorned the entry hall. Round and wide, it depicted a white swan with an arched neck floating on a lake of blue glass. Swan’s Nest struck Josh as a perfect name, especially considering its owner and her female guests. Tonight he’d eat a home-cooked meal in the company of good women. They’d chatter, and he’d listen to their birdsong voices. He wouldn’t be lonely for conversation, and he might glean news of Emily.

Two hours later, Franklin Dean entered the bank he’d inherited from his father. A review of the day’s business showed Adie Clarke’s payment. Irritated, he summoned Horace, his driver, and left for the Denver Gentlemen’s Club.

As usual, he’d eat supper alone. He blamed the unfortunate state of his evening on Pearl. Didn’t she know how much he loved her? He’d die for her. Sometimes, like this afternoon when he’d seen the foolish preacher at Swan’s Nest, he thought he could kill for her.

He hoped the circumstances wouldn’t come to that. He knew from experience that dead bodies raised questions. He hadn’t meant to strangle Winnie Peters, but she’d started to scream. Why had she done that? Frank didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He’d left her body in a ravine and paid Horace to remove her belongings from the hotel. No one missed her. She’d come to Denver alone and hadn’t made friends.

As the carriage passed through town, Frank considered today’s visit to Swan’s Nest. It hadn’t gone well, and he’d missed Adie’s visit to the bank. If it weren’t for her, Pearl would be living at the parsonage. By now, her father would have forced her to marry him. Instead she’d found refuge in a mansion that should have belonged to the bank.

Frank scowled at his father’s shortsightedness. Swan’s Nest was on Seventeenth Street, a dirt road that led to the outskirts of Denver. As the city grew, that street would fill with businesses. In a few years, the land would be worth thousands of dollars. Frank’s father had sold the mansion for a song, and Frank wanted it back.

He had to get rid of Adie Clarke and he had to do it soon, before Pearl had the baby and his son was born without his name.

“Horace?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you recall the job I asked you to do last month?”

“Of course, sir.”

Frank had asked his driver to send Miss Clarke a message, so Horace had thrown a rock through her bedroom window. Miss Clarke had replaced the glass and said nothing, not even to the sheriff.

“It didn’t accomplish what I’d hoped,” Frank said.

“Another plan, sir?”

He thought of the garden he’d seen on the side of the house. A smirk curled his lips. “I believe Miss Clarke’s vegetables need attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

Horace stopped the carriage in front of the Denver Gentlemen’s Club. Frank exited the rig, then pressed a shiny silver dollar into his driver’s hand.

Horace’s eyes gleamed. “Thank you, sir.”

With his walking stick in hand, Frank entered the club where he’d find fine food and drink. Tonight he had everything he needed…except Pearl. Only Adie Clarke stood in his way.