Savage Arrow Read Free Page A

Jessie’s eyebrows rise. She never would have guessed that Reginald would become a preacher. Although as children he had been good and kind, he had not been one to go to Sunday school or church services with his family and Jessie’s, who always attended together.
    As an only child, Reginald had been spoiled rotten, always getting his way with his parents. His mother and father had said that he would only have to go to Sunday services when he wanted to.
    And Reginald had never wanted to.
    Jessie thought it odd that the boy she rememberedshould have dedicated himself to the church. But perhaps he’d had a change of heart after his great silver find. Perhaps becoming so rich so quickly had brought him close to the Lord. Maybe he felt blessed for having been led into a life of luxury.
    Jessie hadn’t set eyes on Reginald for many years, but she recalled that the last time she had seen him, he had turned into a mousy little man.
    She had actually dreaded coming to live with him, but she, too, was an only child, and all of her family was dead.
    As far as she knew, Reginald was her only living relative, as was she his.
    As children, they had ridden horses and played and fussed.
    He’d hated it when she got the best of him in everything they did, because of his tiny size.
    She was also petite and had never regretted it, but for Reginald, being small had become a curse.
    He had to look up at most men from his four-feet-eight-inches height. Even Jessie was taller than he.
    And he wore spectacles with such thick lenses, they made his eyes look twice their size. His eyeglasses had often frightened the girls away, while the boys mocked him and called him “four-eyes.”
    She was suddenly aware of singing. She turned and looked down the long street. At the far end was a lovely church with a tall bell tower.
    The windows were open. The people were singing hymns that Jessie recognized at once, and not just from her childhood churchgoing.
    Her dear departed husband had been a preacher.
    Living in the wild and woolly city of Kansas City, her husband had died on the streets of the city, shot down by lawless gunmen.
    She had had no choice but to come and live with her only living relative in Tombstone, but she had been afraid that this town would not be any tamer than Kansas City. The name itself had sent chills up and down her spine, but she had no place else to go, no one else to turn to.
    She knew she ought to be grateful to Reginald, who had invited her to come and live with him. In his telegram, he had bragged about his house, saying it was the finest in town, which was only right since he was the richest person there.
    She could not help being proud of her cousin, for he had shown them all that size wasn’t all. He was a small man with a huge fortune!
    But even wealth had not gained him everything. He had not remarried since the death of his wife, Sara. Maybe there was only one woman on this earth for a man who was smaller than most.
    “Is that the church where Reginald is the preacher?” she asked, turning to gaze questioningly at the men.
    That brought low chuckles from them.
    The sheriff leaned down into her face. “He ain’t no preacher,” he said smugly. “He just has that nickname since he pretends to be holier than anyone else in this town.”
    “Oh?” Jessie said, confused.
    “But yonder is the church where you’ll find him,” the man quickly added, pointing to it.
    “Thank you for your help,” Jessie said softly. “I appreciate it.” She looked up at the sheriff. “Will you please see that my trunk is taken to Reginald’s house when it is found?”
    “I certainly will, ma’am,” the sheriff said, again taking his hat from his head and giving her a half bow. He watched her as she turned and began walking down the long main street of his town, her purse clutched in her hand.
    Jessie quickly discovered that she had to watch where she stepped, for the road showed signs of recent rain; wagon wheels had made