The Maverick Preacher by Victoria Bylin

Entering the church would send him back to Boston. He’d recall the crowds and the rapture of the choir. He’d also hear the ring of his own voice.
    Josh was certain he’d been born to preach. He’d felt the call at a young age and had flourished under his grandfather’s mentoring. The question had never been should he preach, but where? Not in a church like this. Not anymore. Feeling bittersweet, he clicked to his horse and headed for a row of shops. He spotted a jewelry store and went inside. A balding man came out from behind a black curtain.
    “Good morning,” he said in a German accent.
    Josh glanced around the spartan room with a sinking heart.He saw gold, silver and turquoise but nothing like Emily’s pearls or other pieces.
    “I’m looking for fine jewels,” he said.
    “A diamond, perhaps?”
    “Possibly. May I see what you have?”
    The man came out with a tray of rings on black velvet. Josh didn’t recognize a single one, but he felt the heartache shining in the stones. What made a woman sell a precious ring? Need and desperation…His heart pounded for Emily’s suffering.
    “Thank you, sir.” Josh wrote his name on a card. “I’m staying at Swan’s Nest. If something new comes in, would you contact me?”
    “My pleasure.”
    Josh left the store and headed into the heart of Denver where he visited three pawnbrokers but saw nothing of interest. The next stop tore him up inside, but it had to be made. He walked into an establishment called Brick’s Saloon where a burly man was sweeping the floor. Judging by his size and red hair, he had to be Brick.
    The man looked Josh up and down. “Kind of early for preaching, ain’t it, Reverend?”
    “I’m not here to preach,” Josh said. “I’m looking for a woman.”
    Brick kept sweeping.
    “She’s got dark hair, the same as mine.”
    As Josh had hoped, Brick looked him in the eye. “Why do you want her?”
    “She’s my sister.”
    The man set the broom against the wall, stepped behind the counter and poured Josh a glass of water. “Here.”
    Josh took a sip and waited. He’d learned to let people tell their stories in their own time. The barkeep busied his hands by wiping the counter, but his mind seemed to be a hundredmiles away. When he’d wiped the last inch of the wood, he looked at Josh. “I have a sister, too.”
    “What’s her name?”
    “Jenny.”
    “Is she in Denver?”
    “Nope. Don’t know where she went.” The man looked as broken as Josh felt. “She ran off with a two-timing rat. My little sister—” The man cursed.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Me, too.” Brick looked at Josh. “You gotta picture of your sister?”
    “Not anymore.” Josh gave Emily’s description.
    Brick kept wiping the counter. “Miss Elsa’s Social Club is on Walnut, just past Fifteenth Street. If your sister’s gone down that road, that’s the place to look.”
    Josh headed for the door.
    The barkeep called after him, “Come back again, Reverend. Coffee’s on the house.”
    “I’ll do that,” Josh replied.
    He felt at home with men like Brick. On a whim, he looked back and saw the barkeep neatly folding the towel. “Are you open on Sunday morning?” he asked.
    “No, sir.”
    “Mind if I hold a church service here?”
    Brick scowled. “I don’t see why. There’s lots of churches in Denver.”
    “And lots of people,” Josh added. “Not everyone’s comfortable in the same place.”
    The barkeeper grunted. “I know how it is.”
    Unfortunately, so did Josh. His Boston congregation had been well heeled and as proud as he’d been. Josh no longer saw “church” as four walls and twenty rows of mahogany pews. Now he held services anywhere, anytime.
    Brick shrugged. “I guess there’s no harm.”
    “Then spread the word,” he said. “I’ll be here on Sunday. The service starts at ten.”
    Brick grinned. “I’ll do that.”
    Josh left the saloon, climbed on his horse and headed to Walnut. His spirits sank as he neared a mansion