Even though the light in the lane was bad, Preacher’s eyesight was keen enough to tell him that the man was familiar. After a second, Preacher recalled his name. The man following him was the gambler Cleve. Preacher had seen him at both Dupree’s and Jessie’s Place. As far as Preacher knew, there was no connection between Cleve and Beaumont except for the fact that the gambler patronized places owned by Beaumont.
It seemed likely, though, that Cleve had picked up Preacher’s trail at Beaumont’s house. Was he a spy for Beaumont? Did Beaumont really suspect Preacher of some sort of treachery after all?
There was only one way to find out, Preacher thought as he slipped grim-faced out of the shadows.
He went after Cleve. The man was riding slowly enough so that Preacher had no trouble keeping up with him on foot. Preacher stayed back about a hundred yards and haunted the shadows so that he could duck out of sight if Cleve happened to look back. After a few minutes, though, Cleve reined in and stood up in the stirrups to look around. He must have realized that he’d lost his quarry, Preacher thought.
Preacher had already spotted Horse standing in front of a darkened livery barn across the street, and he recognized it now as the barn where Horse had spent one night. The stallion must have recognized the place, too, and was waiting there for Preacher to come for him.
Cleve hadn’t noticed Horse when he rode past the livery, though. That much was obvious from the way the gambler yanked his own mount around and rode up the street, moving quicker now. Preacher waited until Cleve was almost out of sight, then gave a low whistle that brought Horse trotting over to him. He mounted up quickly and rode after Cleve.
The hunter had become the hunted now.
Preacher knew that by staying well back, he ran the risk of losing Cleve. He had confidence in his own ability to trail the gambler, though. He was maybe a little less confident here in town than he would have been in the wilderness, but he still thought he could keep up with the man.
Anyway, it wasn’t long before Preacher had a pretty good idea where Cleve was going.
The man seemed to be headed straight toward Jessie’s Place.
That turned out to be the case. Cleve rode around to the back of the house. Preacher brought Horse to a stop under some trees and dismounted, then went after Cleve on foot. He reached the rear corner of the house in time to see that Cleve had led his horse into a shed at the rear of the place and left the animal there. The gambler stood at the back door, evidently having just knocked on it. When the door opened, light spilled from inside, and Brutus’s voice rumbled, “Did you find out what you went after?”
“I’ll speak to Jessie about it,” Cleve replied curtly.
“She ain’t back from Beaumont’s yet. She said for you to come in and wait.”
Cleve nodded. “All right.”
He went inside and the door closed, leaving the rear of the house in darkness again. Preacher stood at the corner of the building, frowning in thought.
Was Jessie the one who had sent Cleve to follow him? She had known that she was visiting Beaumont’s house tonight, instead of the other way around, so she could have figured that Beaumont might dismiss Preacher for the night.
On the other hand, she could have simply been acting on Beaumont’s orders and serving as an intermediary between him and Cleve, although Preacher couldn’t really see why Beaumont would go to that much trouble.
The best way to find out the truth was to wait until Jessie got back, so that’s what Preacher settled down to do.
About an hour later, he heard the clatter of carriage wheels in front of the house. Several vehicles had passed by on the street while he was standing in the shadows, waiting, but this one came to a halt. Preacher ventured to the front corner of the house and watched as Lorenzo opened the door of Beaumont’s fancy carriage and helped Jessie climb out.
“Thank you, Lorenzo,” she told him.
The driver tipped his hat. “My pleasure, Miss Jessie.”
Then Jessie came up the walk to the house. Preacher could see well enough to tell that she had a shawl draped around her shoulders.
Brutus met her at the door. “Cleve’s back,” he said, his deep voice carrying in the still, quiet night. “He’s waitin’ for you in your office.”
“Thank you, Brutus.” Jessie’s tone was brisk and businesslike now. As she disappeared into the house and Brutus shut the door, Preacher turned and hurried along the whitewashed side of the house. He had never been in Jessie’s office, but he had been around the house enough in the past week to have figured out that it was in the rear of the house.
Only one window back there had the glow of lamp-light showing through it. Preacher headed for it. The night was warm, and he hoped that the window would be open, at least a little.
It was. He crouched underneath it and was able to hear clearly as Jessie came in and said, “Hello, Cleve.”
A chair scraped as the gambler stood up. “Jessie,” he said. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”
“Just tell me what you found out. Were you able to follow Donnelly?”
“Yes, your hunch was right. Beaumont told him he could leave the house tonight, since you were coming over there.”
“Where did he go? Some dive down by the river?”
“Hardly.” Cleve paused. “I followed him to a spot about a mile west of town. He met someone there, under some trees, and talked to them for a while. I couldn’t get close enough to see who it was, though, or to hear what they were saying.”
“Then he is up to something! I knew it!” Jessie’s voice was breathless with excitement. “But what?”
“I don’t know, but I think we need to keep an eye on him. If he really had something to do with that shot at Beaumont, as you suspect, then he’s planning something and wanted to get close to Beaumont for a reason.”
From the sound of it, Preacher thought, Jessie hadn’t sent Cleve to follow him on Beaumont’s behalf. If anything, it almost sounded like the two of them didn’t like Beaumont any more than Preacher himself did.
That was confirmed a moment later when Jessie said, “We have to find out who Donnelly is and what he’s after. We don’t want him getting in the way when we make our own move against Shad.”
“I agree.”
“Where did he go when he got back to town? To Beaumont’s house?”
“I don’t know, damn it,” Cleve replied with a note of bitter disappointment in his voice. “I hate to admit it, Jessie, but I lost him somewhere in town.”
“Lost him!” Jessie sounded upset, and maybe a little scared. “He didn’t know you were following him, did he?”
“I don’t see how he could have. I was very careful.”
In the darkness outside the window, a grin tugged at Preacher’s mouth. Cleve might be a good gambler and able to take care of himself in town, but he was no frontiersman.
“We’ll have to figure out some other way to find out what we need to know,” Jessie mused. “Maybe Cassandra could get it out of him. He seemed to like her.”
Preacher’s interest perked right up at that comment. He hadn’t seen Casey in a week, and he was starting to get a mite worried about her.
Evidently with good cause, too, because Cleve asked, “How’s she doing?”
“She hasn’t recovered from what Beaumont did to her,” Jessie said, “but she’s getting better. Another week and she might be all right.
Preacher stiffened, and a cold finger ran along his spine. What the devil could Beaumont have done to Casey to make her keep out of sight for two weeks? He must have hurt her pretty bad to do that.
Maybe what he ought to do, he thought, was march right in there and put his cards on the table with Jessie and Cleve. If they were out to bring Beaumont down, too, they could prove to be valuable allies.