Renee Ryan - Hannah's Beau

He had yet to find his place in the world. Thus, he traveled from mining camp to saloon to brothel, ministering to the outcasts of this world. Outcasts such as women like Jane.

But soon, if the vote went his way, he would have his own church in Greeley, Colorado. It would be a place where he could put down roots and begin a normal family with a traditional wife by his side. Her soft, compassionate nature would temper his overly bold, often impudent personality. He hadn’t found her yet, but he would and then his days of traveling across the territory and ministering to the forgotten would come to an end.

Well, not completely.

All would be welcomed in his new congregation. No matter their past sins or current ones. His church would be a safe haven for the lost. For the—

The door flung open with a bang. In swept a whirlwind of angry female and bad attitude. “Beauregard O’Toole, you know your kind isn’t welcome in this establishment. To think. A minister, here, in my brothel.” Her voice was incredulous. “It’s just plain bad for business.”

Beau rose and turned to face the new occupant of the room. With her outrageously buxom figure, unnaturally blond hair and overly painted face, Mattie Silks looked far older than her reported twenty-nine years of age.

She took two steps into the room, and then relaxed into a pose that spoke as much of her profession as her vanity.

Notorious. Legendary. With her own unique flair for the dramatic. Even without formal training, she could hold her own against any stage actress Beau knew. His lips pulled into a wry grin. Clearly, the woman had missed her calling.

Nevertheless…

If there was one thing his childhood had taught him, it was how to appease a dramatic woman in a fit of theatrics.

“Now, Miss Silks.” He gave the surly madam a smile so filled with O’Toole charm that even his rogue brother, Tyler, would envy the result. “I am only here to visit my mother’s dear friend.”

“No.” She switched poses, thrusting out one hip and slamming her fist onto the other. “You are here to talk my best girls into leaving.”

Perhaps. But if Beau didn’t try, who would? The Bible had taught him to look past the outer wrapping of a person and see into their heart. Well, Beau had done that sort of looking in the past weeks he’d held vigil by Jane’s bedside. Not a single “girl” in Mattie Silks’s employ wanted to be in the notorious madam’s…well, employ. Not even one.

But without a concrete alternative, most had no other means of supporting themselves.

Beau considered the situation to be an opportunity straight from heaven. There were only two things humans could accomplish on earth that they would not be able to do in heaven: sin and evangelize. Beau truly believed God had brought him to this den of iniquity to be a light of hope. To plant a seed that might bring the lost back to Him.

One ill-tempered madam wasn’t going to run Beau off that easily. “I simply offer to listen, and give advice accordingly.”

“You mean preach.”

Love the sinner, hate the sin.

Even Mattie Silks deserved his best efforts. “Preach, give advice. Semantics, Miss Silks, nothing more.”

She gave him a hard look. “Thanks to you, two of my girls have already quit.”

Beau sighed. He’d hoped for more. Shaking away his feelings of powerlessness, he continued holding Mattie’s stare. “Only two?”

Her lips twitched before she pointed at him with a gnarled finger that revealed her true age. “You are an arrogant man.”

Beau couldn’t deny that one. He was, after all, an O’Toole. His natural arrogance was a character flaw he had to fight against daily. His professors at seminary had tried to break him because of it. His fellow students had shunned him. He’d been run out of countless churches. And even now, the Rocky Mountain Association of Churches still questioned his ability to shepherd the new congregation in Greeley. All because he was an arrogant son of…actors.

Beau dropped his gaze to Jane and watched her fight for each breath of air. “I won’t leave my mother’s friend in the midst of her distress.” He brushed a hand across her brow. “There is no changing my mind, Miss Silks. I am determined.”

Mattie’s eyes flashed. “And if I say otherwise?”

Beau couldn’t fault the woman for her territorial reaction. This wasn’t the first time he’d walked into a brothel since leaving seminary, only to be unceremoniously tossed out when the madam in charge discovered who he was. Or rather what he was.

Nothing like experiencing a little shunning of his own to help him better relate to his unusual flock. “You’d deny one of your girls a moment of peace in her final hours of life? Are you so cruel?”

Her gaze wavered, just a bit, revealing that Mattie Silks might have a heart beneath the tough businesswoman veneer. “You think she’s that ill?”

“Dr. Bartlett thinks she’s that ill.”

Mattie shifted from one foot to the other then peered slowly down at Jane, who had finally fallen into a labored sleep. For several long heartbeats the madam merely stared at the near-lifeless form dragging ragged breaths into its injured lungs.

“I saw her perform once. Years ago, here in Denver. Such a talent. Such a waste.” She shook her head and sighed. “You may stay, Reverend O’Toole. But I’m warning you. Keep yourself hidden.”

Beau blinked at the sudden capitulation. Mattie Silks, hardened madam, had gone from outraged employer to saddened friend in a heartbeat. Talk about dramatic range.

“I have no plans of leaving her side,” he said.

“Then we understand one another. Stay away from my other girls. You preach—” she spat out the word “—and out you go.”

Beau simply nodded.

Fanning herself with her hand, Mattie sighed again. “It’s scandalous, really. A preacher taking up residence in a parlor house.”

Beau gave her his best Sunday-school smile. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Three days of unsuccessful searching had brought Hannah to Denver, Colorado, feeling defeated and frustrated. Rachel and Tyler had completely vanished. The sheer gravity of their selfishness, the reality of the ensuing scandal, had nagged at Hannah during the entire journey from Chicago to Colorado.

Hannah lowered her head and sighed. Why would Rachel run off with Tyler when she was engaged to a man who had adored her since childhood? Why would her sister throw away the guaranteed devotion of a good, Christian man for the wavering affection of a fickle actor?

Well, this time Rachel would face the consequences of her actions. Hannah would make sure of it.

Of course, she had to find her sister first.

With Patience and Reginald O’Toole performing in London, and the rest of their acting brood in New York, Hannah had one potential ally left, a man who might be able to help her right this terrible wrong.

Exhausted from her travels, but resolved nonetheless, Hannah checked the return address on the letter, folded the paper at the well-worn creases and shoved it into the pocket of her coat. For several moments longer, she allowed her gaze to sweep up and down the street, taking note of the houses and rushing populace, before her attention came to rest on the building directly in front of her.

If houses had gender, this one was surely female. Elegant, whimsical, the two-story building was made of rose-colored stone. The bold lines of the roof and sharp angles were softened by rounded windows and sweeping vines. On closer inspection the house looked a bit neglected; the twisting wisteria covered a few sags and wrinkles that made the building look like a woman refusing to accept her age.

A swift kick of mountain air hit Hannah in the face. She pulled her coat more securely around her middle and shoved her hands into her pockets. As her gloved fingers brushed against the letter, a fresh wave of guilt threatened her earlier resolve. At first, she’d been reluctant to read the correspondence addressed to Tyler from his brother, but after that initial hesitation she’d been too desperate not to open the letter.