“Preacher Colster, you are stepping in a pile of manure you don’t want to get involved in. I will crush you and take Hannah,” Mrs. Hutchins said calmly.
“That may be so, but today, we have the firepower, and I know Hannah is just itching to kill you. So unless you’re ready to die, I think maybe you need to mosey on back down the street.”
Jackson understood Hannah, better than any person she’d ever met. He knew she was just aching with the need to kill the woman who’d prostituted her, but she’d reined in her first response because of him.
The goon stepped toward Jackson, and Hannah fired the gun at his feet. He jumped and the crowd cried out.
“Don’t!” Hannah cried. “This man is just recovering from the beating you gave him. That was your last warning. The next bullet is hitting flesh, yours or the madam’s, I don’t really care.”
Tension oozed from Hannah, and she could hear the crowd mumbling.
Mrs. Hutchins smiled and shook her head. “You may have the upper hand today, but it won’t always be this way, Hannah. And when you’re back at the brothel, you’ll be punished.”
“I’ll die before I return to that place.”
Mrs. Hutchins turned and walked away, taking her muscle-bound henchmen with her. Hannah watched her until she entered the saloon. Then she slid her gun back in its holster.
She turned to Jackson. “I’m leaving.”
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to tell anyone. She only wanted to slip back to that little shack, where she had watched the town and prepared for the battle she knew was coming. Once again, she wanted to hide there until she was ready to take the next step. “You know where I’m going.”
Jackson grabbed her by the arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you sleep out in that cabin by yourself. They know you’re back, and they’re going to be looking for you. If you’re out there, they’ll find you.”
And they would. But she’d be prepared. She’d be ready and would take care of them right there. Not with an audience around, but slowly and methodically. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Stay with me. I have a house here in town,” he said softly.
Her chest ached. Staying with Jackson sounded heavenly, but there were so many reasons why she shouldn’t, including the fact no one would approve of the two of them alone.
“I’m sure your parishioners are going to agree to that,” she said sarcastically. “Not a one of them spoke to me in church, the hypocrites.”
When would she learn not to let people’s opinions matter? But still, being totally rejected had left her feeling like a complete outcast. And now tears swelled behind her lids and filled her throat. She wanted to get away and nurse her wounds in private.
“Give them time. They had to accept a lot today, and they’re still reeling from the fact I’m back and I defended both you and Melissa.”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need them, and I don’t need you. I’m the only person I can trust to look after me,” she said, raising her chin defiantly.
In the past months, she’d learned to take care of herself. In fact, frankly, her life was better off without men.
“I understand.” He glanced back at the people who were now talking animatedly amongst themselves. “I’ll find a widow woman to stay with us. That way my parishioners are happy. Your reputation is safe—”
Pain swelled in her chest, and she started laughing, the sound both sarcastic and sad. Quickly, she stopped before the tears flowed down her cheeks. She couldn’t let these people see her cry. No one could ever know the depth of the hurt she felt when ordinary people refused to speak to her because of her past. “My reputation is beyond repair.”
“No, it’s not. We’ll do things within society’s boundaries, which will show your character.”
She shook her head. “Preacher, it’s your reputation you’re worried about. You’re talking about letting a known soiled dove live in your house. People aren’t going to believe I’m not there servicing you.”
They were being watched. The crowd of parishioners was observing them; she could feel their eyes on her, judging.
“Hannah, I don’t care. You can’t go back out to that cabin. If you insist, I’m going with you. Then I will be fired. Let me find a widow woman to move in until this is all resolved and you’re free.”
There was no way she wanted to let the madam to get her clutches on her again. She had her stepfather to find, and she had to figure out a way to shut the madam down. Being with Jackson would be safer for her body, but what about her heart?
The man could kiss the spots off a pig and make it shine. He’d had her body yearning for things she’d never imagined longing for again, and now he wanted them to live under the same roof?
No matter which way she turned, she could be hurt again. Maybe having an extra gun under the same roof was not such a bad thing. The two of them could better handle the situation in town; now people knew they’d returned. And his congregation knew he’d only use his gun as a last resort. Besides, she’d only be here until this ended, and then she’d be free to earn a living as a bounty hunter.
“Okay, find a widow woman who will live with an ex-soiled dove under your roof. But frankly, I think you’re going to have a hard time finding a woman who’ll stay in the same house as me.”
He smiled and stepped closer to her. “I know the perfect woman.”
Later that evening, Jackson stared across the dinner table at the widow Margaret Schreiner. A member of his church, she was about the strictest sourpuss he’d ever met. She’d been a school teacher until she’d retired shortly before her husband passed away. Her reputation for being a stickler concerning rules was well known in his church, and he thought she would be the perfect chaperone to convince his congregation that nothing improper was going on in his home.
The woman wore her hair in a bun on top of her head; her dress was black with a high collar and long sleeves. A brooch was the only spot of color on the woman, and her expression could be just as dark as her clothing.
Margaret stared at the two of them, her hands together in a prayerful position. “Not only do I have the reverend’s reputation to uphold, but my own. So there won’t be any hanky-panky while I’m here, are we clear?”
Jackson laughed, but Hannah continued to eat her dinner. It was their first sit-down meal since they’d left the McKenzie’s farm, and he could see the tense lines on her face. Today had been difficult for Hannah, first his congregation then the madam.
He didn’t know how to make things easier for Hannah, and he had to make certain she was safe. The thought of something happening to her was frightening.
“Mrs. Schreiner, that’s the reason I chose you. I knew you would make certain I did nothing to hurt Hannah’s reputation.”
Hannah looked up from her supper, one brow raised. “I don’t think you can damage mine much more. Besides, once this business is taken care of, I’m leaving town and starting over somewhere fresh to get away from the hypocrites.”
How could he blame her? The memory of everything that had happened here was uppermost in her mind. In some ways it reminded him of how he’d been when he’d returned from the war—a young kid who felt like he’d seen the worst of humanity and never wanted to witness killing again. Yet here he was in a wild western town where shootings occurred almost daily.
“Hannah, I’m sorry my congregation wasn’t more welcoming. They were barely civil to me. You’ve got to give them time.”
“Hrmph,” she responded.
“They’re worried about their daughters,” Margaret said. “If it happened to you, it could happen to them. They’ll come around.” The woman reached out and patted Hannah on the hand.
Hannah glanced down at the woman’s hand then up to her face, her eyes narrowing like she didn’t believe the woman was touching her.
“Have you ever lived anywhere else?” he asked, hoping to divert a fig
ht.
Hannah looked at him and sighed. “No, my mother’s family was from Mineral Wells, but I grew up on a small ranch just outside of town,” she said. “My father, Seth Williams, raised cattle. Mother had a large garden.”
Margaret smiled at the young woman. “I remember your mother. I was so shocked when she died in that brothel. I couldn’t imagine a nice woman like her going into a place like that.”
Jackson spoke up, trying to thwart Hannah getting angry at Margaret. “We don’t think she went in there. We think Elliott murdered her, then carried her body inside and placed it at the bottom of the stairs.”
“My mother would not have gone in there willingly,” Hannah said, the rage surfacing quietly.
Reaching across the table, Margaret touched Hannah on the arm again, and Jackson feared Hannah was about to unleash a torrent of anger on the older woman. She stared at Margaret, her gaze heated with fury.
“Dear, you’ve been through quite a lot in your young life. I’m going to try to help you clear your good name, and we start by making certain everyone knows you and the preacher are not together. I think we should sleep in the same room.”
Jackson watched as Hannah’s jaw twitched, and with relief, he realized she was trying not to laugh.
“That’s fine.”
“We’ll have to share a bed. I’m such a light sleeper I’ll know for certain you’re in bed with me every night.”
The expression on Hannah’s face was almost priceless. She had one of those I can’t believe this is happening looks on her sweet face. But there were still serious things they needed to discuss.
“Where else would I be?” Hannah said with amusement.
Jackson pulled out two guns and laid them on the table. “I know Hannah carries at least one gun with her if not two. But Margaret, I’d like you to wear one as well. For protection.”
The woman’s brows rose, and she tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at him like she’d probably done to all the misbehaving children in school. “I refuse to carry a weapon.”
Why did Jackson feel like he’d brought the two stubbornest women the state of Texas had to offer into his home? Both of these women had wills of iron, and if someone did break in, he’d run like the hounds of hell were chasing him, after dealing with these ladies.
“Suit yourself, but I’m warning you. They’re going to come after us, and while I have several men from the church who are checking on us hourly and will sound an alarm if we need help, I’d rather you had at least a little protection.”
Hannah nodded her head. “I’m good. My weapons are never far from me.”
Margaret shook her head. “I haven’t carried a gun since the days of the Indian attacks.”
“Well, now might be the time to consider your safety and carry one. I’m going to put this other one in the chest next to the good book. If you need a weapon, remember it’s here. Margaret, this one is yours. Leave it by your night stand if you need to.”
Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering had them all diving under the table, as a large rock flew through the front window and rolled across the wooden floor.
Jackson felt his heart pounding in his chest as he made certain the women were safely under the table. He’d known they would attack. He’d known they’d not let his return go unpunished.
“Stay down,” he yelled.
Crawling on his hands and knees over to the rock, he picked it up and found a note. “Get out of town,” he read.
“Good grief, did anyone invite the Baptist to town?” Margaret said jokingly, sitting under the table.
There was a pounding on the door. “Reverend, are you okay?”
Hannah yanked her gun out of her holster and stood behind the door. The reverend opened it, his gun in his hand. “We’re fine. Did you see who threw the rock?”
The man shook his head. “No, but a rider galloped away. Do you want to go after him?”
“Yes, but you’ve got to stay here with the women.”
“I won’t leave until you get back. I’ll wait here outside the door,” the man offered.
Jackson knew they wanted Hannah to return to the brothel. He feared they thought by kidnapping her again her spirit would be broken, he would back off cleaning up the town, and once again, they’d be in control. But not this time. He would do everything he could to end the corruption in this wayward village and return it to the prosperity they’d once had.
He walked over to Hannah, who had crawled beneath the window and was peering out into the darkness. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her to her feet, putting a wall in between them and the window.
“I’m going to go out and look for that rider. I’m not going far,” he said, staring into her green eyes. She was so pretty, and she didn’t even realize the extent of her beauty. No wonder the madam wanted her back.
“I’m going with you. What if it’s a trap?”
“No. I want you to stay here with Margaret. I’ll have some men with me in case it’s a trap..” She was staring up at him with such innocent eyes. And he wondered what she would have been like if none of this had happened to her.
Her mouth was full and ripe and so tempting. He glanced around to see the chaperone had walked into the kitchen. Quickly, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her sweet lips. He moved his mouth over hers, needing to taste her one more time just in case this was his last few minutes on earth.
Heat spread through his body straight to his loins.
Fear of Margaret walking in on them had him breaking apart from her. “I’ve got to go. They’re waiting on me. Don’t leave the house. Stay in here with Margaret. I’ll be back soon.”
She grabbed him, pulled him to her, and kissed him one more time, then pushed him away. “Don’t get killed.”
He grinned. She’d kissed him. She’d initiated the kiss, and desire spiraled through him like a West Texas duststorm, swirling and covering everything.
“I don’t plan on it.”
Hannah blew out all the lamps, casting the house in darkness.
Margaret took a seat on the couch in the main room. “I guess we wait.”
Standing next to the side of the window, Hannah peered through the glass pane that wasn’t broken. Nothing was moving outside, and while she knew that was good, she wished she could see something that would let her know that either Jackson was safe or they’d found whoever had tried to scare them tonight.
What a cowardly act. To throw a rock through a window while they were nearby at the dining room table.
“You know my husband used to know your father,” Margaret said in the darkness. “I didn’t realize it until you mentioned him at dinner tonight.”
“Really?” Hannah asked. “How did he know him?” She loved to hear tales about her father and his business. He’d been such a big, strong man, and his death had devastated her mother and ruined their ranch.
“They traded cattle. My husband had our herd outside of town. We lived here in the city. I taught school, and he tended our ranch business. Funny, in those days, there were less than a hundred people living here in town. We didn’t even have a sheriff. Not until Mrs. Hutchins purchased the saloon and opened up the brothel upstairs.”
For a moment, Hannah tried to imagine the town without a sheriff or a brothel. But they were far enough away from a major city that it was more of a frontier justice than a constitutional government.
“Why would a small town allow her to take over?”
“Didn’t really have much choice. She came into town one day and bought out the saloon. The next thing we knew she had talked the town council into getting a sheriff.”
Hannah glanced back out into the darkness. Nothing stirred. Whoever had frightened them tonight was long gone.
“You know Jackson is sweet on you,” the woman said.
Hannah turned around and stared at the woman. She couldn’t see her face in the gloom, but she knew she was still there. “Jackson is a nice man, but I’m not exactly preacher’s wife mate
rial or really acceptable for any man.”
She didn’t need to hear this. She didn’t want her feelings for Jackson to grow into anything more than what she felt already, for fear of being hurt. He needed a woman who could help with his church, and an ex-whore hardly fit the description.
“Why not? I bet you could help teach our younger men and women about the evils of the saloon and the brothel. You could help young women understand why it’s important to learn how to protect themselves.”
Hannah shook her head. Why waste your time on things that could never happen, when you’d only get disappointed when it didn’t come to pass? She’d only get hurt, and she didn’t know how much more devastation she could take in her life. “I’m not cut out to be a preacher's wife. God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.” She paused then asked, “What did I ever do to Him for Him to do this to me?”
Her hands started to shake, and she could feel the tears welling up inside her. “This morning in the church, not a soul spoke to me. I was ostracized. Jackson on the other hand is a good man; he doesn’t need to be saddled with a wife who would only bring shame on him. He deserves a good woman who would work with him. I’d tell his congregation to go to hell.”
Margaret laughed. “Lord, you do like to give me the toughest cases, don’t you.” She stopped laughing then said in the dark. “I’d tell some of his congregation to go to hell as well. We may just do it together.”
Chapter 8
Later that night, Jackson came back to the house and found the two women waiting for him in the dark.
“Any luck?” Hannah asked.
“No, he disappeared,” he answered.
“Right into the saloon,” Margaret said.
Unfortunately, Jackson feared she was right. If he took a guess on who had frightened them tonight, he’d say it was one of Mrs. Hutchins’ goons. They were the ones who had motive to want them out of town. And sometimes he thought Hannah had the right idea.
Maybe he should just pack up and leave, but then he remembered the other options the church had given him and how he suspected they knew that this location would either make him a fine preacher or send him running.
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