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it would also be on with taking
responsibility for past actions.
    “Preacher,” a deep voice said from behind him.
    Tower turned to see an older man with broad
shoulders and a jaw that could only mean he was the father of Ike Daniels.
    “My name’s Garrett Daniels,” the old man said. “Seems
you hurt my boy pretty bad. Broke his arm and his jaw. Never heard of a
preacher who could hit like that.”
    The old man touched the lower part of his face. “And
breaking a Daniels’s jaw ain’t exactly an easy thing to do.”
    Tower watched the desk clerk slink out the hotel’s
back door.
    From behind the old man, Ike Daniels and two more men
fanned out.
    “He went at me first,” Tower said. “You do
understand that?”
    Daniels raised an eyebrow, glanced at Ike, who
shook his head.
    “That’s bullshit, Pa,” he said.
    The elder Daniels had a rifle in his right hand;
the thumb of his left was hooked in his gun belt. He stood with a confident
ease, exuding a presence that Tower hadn’t seen in the man’s son.
    “That don’t matter to me. You sure as hell can’t threaten my
family, son,” he said. “Not going to apologize for the language, either.” Suddenly,
the old man’s face brightened. “However, you can come back to the ranch, and
we’ll hold a little service out there. And then we’ll all forgive and forget.”
     “I appreciate the invitation, Mr. Daniels,” Tower
said. He knew a visit to the Daniels ranch would be a one-way trip. “But I’m
holding a service in town tonight.”
    Tower turned back to his paper and began writing.
    The lobby was silent; even the rattling of dishes
had stopped.
    And then Daniels worked the lever of his rifle,
cocking it.  The sound was almost as loud as if he’d fired the gun.
    “You’re going to get out of that chair, walk
outside with us, get on a horse we brought just for you, and come back with us
to the Rockin’ D,” the old man said. His voice had lost the pleasant banter and
now had the consistency of gravel. “I ain’t asking you. I’m telling you. Pray
all you want, but that’s what’s gonna happen.”
    Tower put the pen down. He studied the men surrounding
Garrett Daniels and let his gaze linger on Ike.
    “You're a dead man, Preacher,” Ike said.
    Tower smiled. “A lot tougher around your daddy.”
    Tower stood, walked past the men, and stepped out
onto the hotel’s boardwalk. The Daniels horses were all tied to the right of
the hotel. Tower counted one extra horse, knowing that it was for him.
    He heard boots sounding on the wood planks behind
him.
    And then he saw Bird.
    She was coming from the saloon with a bottle in her
hand, walking directly toward the hotel.
    “Perfect timing,” Tower heard the old man say. “Spread
out.”
    Out of the corner of his eye, Tower saw Ike and the
other Daniels men take positions on either side of the old man.
    “So, you are a drunk,” Daniels shouted at
Bird.
    Tower knew Bird had already seen them, that she had
just wanted to get closer. He was still getting to know her, but he could read
body language. He had done a lot of that in his past, before he hung up his
own guns in favor of the Bible.
    Bird looked up and acted as if she hadn’t seen the
men standing there, waiting for her.
    She smiled, but Tower saw through it. Still, she
was a beautiful woman, and he marveled at her ability to use it to her
advantage. He could practically feel the men around him relax.
    She put the bottle down next to her feet. She
pointed at it.
    “Don’t go anywhere,” she said.
    One of Daniels’s hired hands laughed.
    “Mind telling me what you’re doing with Preacher
Tower there, sir?” Bird said. “Maybe going to confession?”
    “Oh, we’re going to confession, all right,” Daniels
said. He clapped his hand on Tower’s shoulder. “But he’ll be the one admitting
his wrongdoing.”
    “Afraid I can’t let that happen,” Bird said. “It is
my job to get this man to San Francisco. Unharmed. Sort of a