His mind was filled with thoughts of Lily as he prepared the saloon for the day’s customers. He’d attended church the previous day in order to find out more about the preacher. Jesse had his suspicions about the kind of man he was after hearing what Lily had to say, and his suspicions were more than confirmed when he witnessed the preacher grab her violently. He hadn’t heard the words of the conversation that happened prior to him grabbing her, but he’d heard Elijah’s angry, accusing voice and Lily’s soft, placating tones. The memory of it angered him, and he worked it out on the floor, scrubbing it with zeal.
Jesse had never been opposed to a man taking a wayward woman in hand, as Lily had discovered about him less than a year ago. He believed it a man’s duty to protect and discipline those of the weaker sex who acted recklessly. After all, the men who cared for them were responsible for their safety. Women were obliged to obey or else suffer the consequences.
However, he loathed the out-of-control violence he saw written all over the preacher’s face along with his white-knuckled grip on Lily’s thin arms. To Jesse, discipline and violence were as different as night from day. A proper spanking made the recipient feel protected, noticed, and cared for. Violence led to fear, uncertainty, and a crippled sense of worth. Lily’s sense of worth was already delicate, he knew, since she’d confided in him years ago that she believed that she was unimportant, and the fact that the preacher may very well have provided her with a reason to give her words merit infuriated him. He wanted nothing more than to rescue Lily from her bad matchup with Elijah, and he intended to do just that.
Finished mopping the floors, he picked up the bucket of dirty water and walked out the back to dump it. As he returned, he heard a thumping sound and a woman’s shriek coming from inside. Following that was the sound of feet pounding down the stairs. The back door burst open, and Jesse watched in disbelief as the very man on his mind tore out of the building, not even noticing Jesse’s presence in his hasty exit. Furrowing his brow, Jesse watched Elijah make hurried tracks out of sight.
He walked inside to find Maria, one of the younger whores, stumbling down the stairs clutching her face. Blood escaped through her fingers as she sobbed.
Jesse shouted, “Flo, you’d better get down here.” He grabbed a clean bar towel and guided the woman to a chair around the poker table. “Let me see your face, Maria.”
She slowly removed her trembling hand, and Jesse took in a sharp breath as he placed the towel over what looked like a long, deep knife wound.
Florence rushed down the stairs. “What happened?” she exclaimed.
“He cut me,” Maria cried. “I laughed at him and he cut me.”
“Fetch the doctor, Flo. I have no doubt she needs stitches,” Jesse said.
“Oh, my heavens,” Florence said when she saw the blood. The madam never swore, even under duress. “All right, Maria, hold on. I’ll be right back with the doctor.” Florence hustled out of the saloon.
Several of the saloon girls heard the ruckus and joined Jesse and Maria downstairs. They crowded around and murmured comforting words to the injured young woman.
Jesse continued to hold the towel over her cheek. “Did the preacher do this to you, honey?”
She nodded slightly. “How did you know?”
“I saw him run out the back. Don’t worry, he’ll pay for this. As soon as you get stitched up and are feeling better, we’ll report this to the marshal.”
She looked afraid but didn’t argue.
“What kind of preacher carries around a knife?” he muttered to himself.
Maria moaned. “He does whittling. He was showing me one of the ugly wooden houses he whittled, and I laughed. That’s when he cut me.”
“I see.” Jesse felt great consternation at the knowledge that the preacher had it in him to enact such violence against a woman. He realized it would only be a matter of time before he seriously hurt Lily, if she stayed with him, which Jesse had no intention of allowing to happen. And to think that his own words contributed to her being with him in the first place. He could kick himself.
“No one will believe me over a preacher,” Maria sobbed. “They’ll think it was my fault because I’m just a worn-out strumpet.”
“The marshal will believe you,” Jesse stated firmly. “He’s a good man, not easily fooled by pretenses of virtue. Plus, I will say what I saw, and what I saw was the preacher running out of here like the building was on fire.”
To Jesse’s relief, that seemed to cheer her up. The other women murmured their agreement with his words, and Maria’s cries had died down by the time Florence returned with the doctor in tow. The doctor slowly peeled away the towel so he could examine the wound.
Jesse addressed his partner. “Flo, will you go with her to report this to the marshal when the doc’s finished? I’ll stop by later to give my account of what happened, but I need to pay someone a visit first.”
Florence nodded distractedly. “Yes, of course.”