Katie Rose Read Free Page B

uncertainly. The cowboy seemed nice, but his spitting bothered her. Logically, she realized that tobacco had to be expelled, but her feminine sensibility was still offended. Besides, there was something about this preacher that alerted her sleuthish instincts. “Well,” she said to Thomas, “if you insist.”
    Thomas looked at the cowboy with a sharp glance. The cowboy shrugged and headed off in the direction of the saloon. Emily was careful to hide her suspicionsas the preacher took her bag, then indicated the wooden boardwalk ahead.
    “It’s on the outskirts of town, if I understand right.” He gave her a reassuring nod. “Let’s try this way.”
    Emily followed obediently, glad now that he was there to help. As Thomas walked in front of her, she noticed once again how different he was from any other preacher she’d ever known. There was a catlike grace to his walk, a sureness to his step. More than that, there was a presence about him that she wouldn’t have expected. He tipped his hat in response to the nods that came his way, but she had a feeling that he would have gotten the same respect even without the collar.
    The boardwalk ended, replaced by a well-worn path that led them behind the saloon. Emily’s eyes grew wider as they approached what looked like a southern mansion: A beautiful white house rose up like a castle in a dream, complete with graciously curved windows, green shutters, and gardens on both sides. As they approached the door with its bold brass knocker, Emily turned to the preacher in astonishment.
    “This is it?”
    “Try the door,” he suggested.
    Emily experienced a brief pang when she found it was locked—until she remembered the key that had come with Ewert Smith’s letter. Gingerly, she fished it out and slid it into the lock, more astonished than ever as the tumblers clicked and the door swung open. Thisreally was the place. Thomas lit the gas, then turned up the flame, throwing the room into plain view. Emily polished her glasses, then put them back on, certain what she was seeing could not be real.
    The house had been ransacked. Yet even in this dismal state, she could sense the opulence of the room, the scarlet and gilt decadence. Emily gasped as she took in the bar, the crimson chairs, the player piano, and the portrait of a woman dressed in silk and feathers overlooking everything. On the ceiling were more paintings, pictures like she had never seen before, scenes of men and women doing things she couldn’t even imagine.…
    “My God!” she whispered, turning to the preacher in horror. “What—what was this place?”
    “A house of sin,” Thomas said, stifling his chuckles with obvious effort. Emily studied him more closely. She was not mistaken. There was a glimmer in his eye, and a grin playing around his mouth. Odd for a preacher, she thought, making another mental note. He indicated the portrait above the fireplace. “That must be Rosie.”
    Nodding her agreement, Emily stared at the picture of her father’s “female companion.” The woman wasn’t one she would call stunning, but she was attractive. Dark eyes stared out of the frame, almost twinkling with life. A naughty dimple had been cleverly captured by the artist, along with the full curve of a seductive mouth. An uncomfortable feeling swelled inside Emily as she thought of her father cavorting with this woman while he was still married to her mother. She turned back to the preacher.
    “I can’t believe this—” she began.
    Thomas nodded, as if understanding her thoughts. “I don’t know your father, but he probably never thought you’d come out here. Most women would have sold the property rather than face the dangers of the West. I guess he underestimated you.”
    “How incredible.” The initial shock had passed and left curiosity in its wake. Like most young women, Emily knew little about the dark side of men, the things whispered about between women, always in disapproving tones. She stared at