The Maverick Preacher. Victoria Bylin
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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