The Maverick Preacher. Victoria BylinЧитать онлайн книгу.
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