“Well, I don’t really know,” Preacher drawled. “Don’t reckon I’ve ever had any brandy. Just beer and corn squeezin’s.”
Beaumont laughed. “Then you’re in for a treat. Come along.”
He led Preacher to the big table in the back of the saloon, where they could see the whole room before them. Beaumont put his beaver hat on the table and draped his cape over one of the empty chairs.
One of the women who worked there came over to the table from the bar, carrying a tray with a bottle and two wide glasses on it. She was a tall, lanky blonde wearing a gray dress cut low enough to reveal a generous portion of her high, full breasts. She leaned over as she placed the tray on the table, and that made the creamy swells of female flesh even more prominent.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Beaumont?” she asked as she straightened.
“That depends on my new friend here,” Beaumont smirked. “What do you say, Jim? Do you see . . . anything . . . that you’d like?”
“Maybe,” Preacher said. “I’ll think on it.”
“A man who prefers to keep his options open! I like that.”
Beaumont motioned the blonde away. She was pretty, Preacher thought, and likely the man he was pretending to be would have taken Beaumont up on the thinly veiled offer. Hell, Jim Donnelly probably would have jumped at the chance to have a little slap-and-tickle with the blonde.
For some reason, though, Preacher still had an image of Jessie’s face in his mind that made him hesitate. He wasn’t sure why that was true, but he wanted a chance to figure it out.
Beaumont poured the brandy and handed one of the snifters to Preacher. “Once again, thank you for saving my life,” he said as he lifted his own glass.
Preacher clinked his glass against Beaumont’s and nodded. “Glad I was able to lend a hand,” he said.
He took a healthy swallow of the brandy. It went down smooth but kindled quite a fire in his belly when it landed. Preacher’s breath hissed between his teeth.
“Try sipping it next time,” Beaumont advised with a smile. “I imagine it’s a bit more potent than what you’re accustomed to.”
“I don’t know. I’ve had some corn whiskey that’d peel paint right off a wall.” Preacher took another drink, sipping this time as Beaumont had suggested. “This is mighty fine stuff, though.”
“Only the finest for me in all things. That’s how I live my life.” Beaumont leaned back in his chair. “You know, Jim, your name is familiar to me for some reason. How long have you been in St. Louis? We haven’t met before, have we?”
“I just got into town yesterday. And like I said, I was in here last night. If you were here, maybe you saw me.”
“I was here, all right, but that wouldn’t explain why I’ve heard your name. And I’m sure I have. I—” Beaumont stopped and snapped his fingers. “I have it now. You got into some trouble yesterday afternoon at a house on the north side of town, didn’t you?”
Preacher tried to look embarrassed and uncomfortable. “How the hell did you hear about that?”
Beaumont made a sweeping gesture and said, “I hear about everything important that goes on in St. Louis. I have friends and business associates all over town.”
“What is your business, if I ain’t pokin’ my nose in where it ain’t wanted?”
“Whatever makes me a profit,” Beaumont replied. “And nearly every enterprise I undertake does make a profit, if I do say so myself.”
Preacher nodded. “You must be a mighty smart man, then.”
“I like to think so. What were you doing at Jessie’s Place?”
“I heard tell it was the best whorehouse in town,” Preacher said with a shrug. “It’s been a long, lonely trip from Pennsylvania.”
“That’s where you’re from?”
“My family’s had a farm there for a long time. I ain’t cut out for farmin’, though.” Preacher took another sip of the brandy. “So I left and come west. Figured I’d make my fortune out here.”
“How are you doing on that?”
Preacher let a little bitterness creep into the laugh he gave. “Not too good so far. I spent the day shovelin’ shit out of livery stable stalls in return for somethin’ to eat and a place to sleep.”
“Well, your luck has changed this evening.” Beaumont reached inside his coat.
Preacher said quickly, “If you’re about to give me a reward or somethin’ like that, then no offense, Mr. Beaumont, but you can keep it. I was raised not to ever take charity, and even if I don’t pay much attention to what my folks taught me, that’s one thing I still abide by.”
“A reward isn’t charity, Jim. It’s something you’ve earned.”
Beaumont brought out a purse and took a five-dollar gold piece from it. Preacher let his eyes widen at the sight of the coin, as if he couldn’t help it. Beaumont put the coin on the table but didn’t take his finger off of it.
“Tell me about what happened at Jessie’s,” he said.
Preacher shrugged. “I reckon that was just one more case of me pushin’ in where my kind ain’t wanted. The big darky who come to the door took me for some sort of delivery fella and tried to run me off. We got in a little squabble.”
“The way I heard it, you knocked Brutus senseless.”
“You know him?”
“Like I told you, I know people all over town . . . and they know me.”
“Then that Miss Jessie’s a friend of yours?”
“She is.”
Preacher took a deep breath. “I sure was sorry for the trouble I caused her. She struck me as a mighty fine lady.”
“She is,” Beaumont said again.
“But I wasn’t gonna let that fella Brutus push me around, neither,” Preacher went on, his voice hardening. “When the Good Lord made me, he didn’t put much backup in me. That’s just the way it is.”
“I understand,” Beaumont said, nodding. “I’m the same way myself. And it’s quite impressive that you were able to handle Brutus like that. He’s practically broken men in half on a number of occasions, whenever there was trouble at the house.”
“Well . . . I didn’t exactly fight fair. After I’d walloped him in the belly and the jaw and he didn’t even blink, I figured I’d best kick him in the balls as fast as I could.”
Beaumont laughed loudly and reached for the bottle of brandy. “By God, Jim, I like the way you think.” He used his other hand to push the coin across the table to Preacher. “Here.”
Preacher frowned. “I told you—”
“It’s not a reward,” Beaumont said as he poured more brandy in their glasses. “It’s an advance on your wages.”
“Wages?”
“That’s right. You said I needed a man to keep an eye on my back trail, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I have a feeling you’re the man for the job.” Beaumont raised his glass again. “Unless, of course, you’d rather go back to mucking out that stable.”
Preacher hesitated, but only for a second. Then he grinned, reached for his glass, and said, “I reckon you’ve just hired yourself a new hand, boss.”
Chapter 14
They polished off the bottle of brandy before they left Dupree’s. Preacher was a little drunker than he’d intended to be, but he was still thinking clearly enough. The plan had worked perfectly. He had established himself as a tough man who needed a job, and then he’d provided an excuse for Beaumont to give him one.
He was on the inside now, in a position where he could do the most damage.
Beaumont led Preacher outside, with all the employees and many of the customers smiling and bidding them good night as they left. Preacher had known that Beaumont wielded a lot of power in this town, but even he was a little surprised at the apparent extent of it. Nobody wanted to get on Shad Beaumont’s bad side. Everyone wanted to stay in his good graces.
As they emerged onto the boardwalk, Beaumont said, “Since you decided not to take me up on my offer to have Margaret spend some time with you, Jim, why don’t we go to Jessie’s? I’m sure you can find something to your liking there.”