The Maverick Preacher. Victoria Bylin

Mary an impatient look. “It wasn’t necessary.”

      “You’re too trusting,” Mary insisted.

      Pearl sighed. “I wish you hadn’t shot him.”

      “He went for his gun!”

      Adie worried, but only for an instant. A man intending harm didn’t tell a woman to feed a hungry baby. “He has belly trouble,” she said to Mary. “He probably bent over in pain.”

      Recognition flitted across Mary’s face.

      Pearl went back to crooning to Stephen, who’d fallen peacefully asleep. Adie envied him. She wouldn’t sleep that well until Joshua Blue left Denver. “I have to see to his horse.”

      Mary pushed to her feet. “I’ll help.”

      “No.” Adie waved casually, but her stomach had jumped. She wanted to go through his things by herself. “It’s been a long night. You and Pearl should get some sleep.”

      “If you’re sure—”

      “I am.” Adie forced a smile. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

      Before Mary could ask another question, Adie headed for the back door. As she turned the knob, Bessie came down the hall. “Mr. Blue wants to see you.”

      The saddlebags would have to wait but only for a bit. With rubbery knees, she thanked Bessie and went to see Joshua Blue.

      Chapter Three

      In spite of Josh’s protests, the woman nursing him had left a bottle of laudanum on the nightstand. He knew all about the drug and the lies it told. He’d first used it in Boston. With the renown that came with his sermons, he’d gotten an ulcer. The doctor he’d seen, a stranger because he’d wanted to hide his weakness, had given him something to calm his stomach, but it had led to embarrassing bouts of belching, something a man in Josh’s position couldn’t allow. He’d gone to a second physician, then a third. The last one had given him laudanum. It had helped immediately.

      Looking at the bottle, Josh knew it would help right now. If he filled the spoon the woman had left—he thought her name was Bessie—he’d be free of pain. He’d be numb to his guilt, too.

      The laudanum tempted him.

      The craving humbled him.

      Reverend Joshua Benjamin Blue, the best young preacher in Boston, maybe in America, had become addicted to opium. Thanks to Wes Daniels, the biggest sinner on earth and Josh’s only friend, he’d kicked the habit three months ago in a Kansas City boardinghouse.

      Thoughts of Wes made Josh smile. He hadn’t succeeded in saving the gunslinger’s soul, but neither had Wes corrupted him. They’d had some lively debates in the past few months…a few quarrels, too. Wes had understood Josh’s guilt, but he didn’t share his worry. As long as Emily had jewelry to sell, Wes insisted she’d be sitting pretty. Josh hoped so. For months he’d been visiting pawnbrokers in search of pieces he’d recognize. He knew from Sarah Banks, Emily’s best friend, that his sister had bought a train ticket to St. Louis. Sarah had given Josh a verbal beating, one he’d deserved.

      “How dare you cast stones at your sister! I know you, Josh. You’re as flawed as the rest us!”

      She’d been right, of course. With Sarah’s remarks in his ears, he’d traveled to St. Louis, where he’d spotted a familiar brooch in a jewelry store. Emily, he’d learned from the shopkeeper, had sold it and moved on. A clerk at the train station recalled her face and thought she’d gone to Kansas City. Josh’s only hope of finding her lay in a trail of pawned jewelry and the Lord’s mercy. If he could have moved, he’d have hit his knees. Like Paul, he counted himself among the foremost of sinners, a man sorely in need of God’s grace. With the laudanum calling to him, he needed that grace in abundance. It came in the tap of Adie Clarke’s footsteps.

      Bessie had left Josh a lamp, but she’d dimmed it to a haze that turned Miss Clarke into a shadow. Josh recalled her reddish hair and the glint in her gold-brown eyes. She’d struck him as young and pretty, though he wished he hadn’t noticed. He’d dedicated his life to serving God with every thought and deed. He wasn’t immune to pretty women, but he felt called to remain single. A man couldn’t travel at will with the obligation of a wife and family.

      Thoughts of children made him wince. Without Emily the family mansion in Boston had become a tomb. For the first time, Josh had taken his meals alone. Listening to the lonely scrape of his knife on fine china, he’d wondered how it would feel to share meals with a wife, maybe children. Tonight he’d envied the woman who’d fed the baby.

      Adie Clarke studied him in the dim light. “Are you awake?”

      “I am. I need something.”

      “Milk?”

      “No,” he said. “The laudanum…take it away.”

      Her gaze went to the bottle, then shifted to the cot where Josh lay wrapped in a blanket and wearing a silk nightshirt. Bessie had bandaged his shoulder, extracted the garment from one of the trunks in the storeroom and helped him into the shirt. Even in Boston, he hadn’t worn anything so fine.

      Miss Clarke stayed in the doorway. “Are you sure? Bessie says—”

      “Bessie doesn’t know me.”

      “She’s a good nurse.”

      “I don’t doubt it, Miss Clarke.” Josh felt ashamed, but the truth set a man free. “Until a few months ago, laudanum had a grip on me. I’ll never touch it again.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      He didn’t want her pity. “I’m over it.”

      “Of course.” She walked to the nightstand, lifted the bottle and hurried for the door.

      “Wait,” he called.

      She stopped and turned, but her eyes clouded with reluctance. “Do you need something else?”

      “Would you bring in my saddlebags?”

      She froze like a deer sensing a wolf. Why would she hesitate? Considering he’d been shot in her kitchen, fetching his saddlebags seemed like a small favor. He could live without the laudanum, but he desperately needed the Bible packed with his clothes. “I’d get them myself, but—”

      “No,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

      “Thank you.”

      As she headed down the hall, Josh rested his head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. He hoped she’d hurry. His shoulder ached and his belly burned, but his soul hurt most of all. He thought of David writing Psalms in the midst of battle and loss.

      Search me, O God, and know my heart… Love swelled in Josh’s chest. He prayed for Emily, the women of Swan’s Nest and the baby crying for milk.

      Try me and know my thoughts… If an ulcer, a gunshot wound and a craving for opium didn’t test a man, he didn’t know what did. Would ever find Emily? Was she still alive? And her child…He grimaced.

      See if there be any hurtful way in me… He prayed for purity of thought and a generous spirit.

      And lead me in Your way everlasting. Amen.

      As he finished the prayer, he looked expectantly at the door. Any minute Adie Clarke would be back with his Bible. More than ever, Josh needed the mercy of the God who’d walked the earth in a tent of human flesh. Jesus alone knew how he felt. He alone could bring comfort.

      Adie ran to the carriage house. If she hurried, she could look in the saddlebags before giving them to Mr. Blue. On the other hand, she saw a risk. If she took too long, he’d wonder where she’d been. He also seemed more alert than she’d expected. If she rummaged through his bags, he might realize his things were in disarray and she’d have to explain herself.

      As she