The Debutante's Gamble: Western Historical Romance (Debutante's of Durango Book 5)
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The Debutante’s Gamble
The Debutante’s of Durango #5
Sylvia McDaniel
Virtual Bookseller
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 Sylvia McDaniel
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design: Dar Albert
Edited by Tina Winograd
Release date: September 1, 2020
ebook ISBN 978-1-950858-33-0
Paperback ISBN 978-1-950858-34-7
This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author and publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
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Gambling on the Wild Woman
Fannie Trippe is every mother’s nightmare. A wild child who refuses to obey the rules of conventional society—like women don’t gamble. Until the night her full house beats the mine owner’s three of a kind. Did she win or lose when she drew his attention?
Walter Hersey watches the spirited young woman take everyone’s cash while rejecting the men who flirt outrageously. Struggling to raise his motherless twins, could this spunky woman gambler tame his ruffian children? With Fannie’s mother’s help, he plots to ensnare her and bend her to his will.
Is he the one to tame Fannie’s wild ways? Or will the schemer soon find himself in a trap of his own making?
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Thank you
More books in the series…
About the Author
Chapter One
February 1888 Durango, Colorado
Fannie Trippe watched the dancers go by and wished she could escape the Debutante Ball. Outside, a snowstorm had locked them in the hotel, keeping everyone from escaping, except her sister Meg.
The girl had gotten into trouble when she tried to leave the ball via a second-floor window and falling into the arms of the man her mother had been pushing her toward.
The chandeliers glowed and she watched the beautiful gowns swirl by and wished she was playing poker.
Now the ball seemed to have a mellow spirit after the screaming match in the library between her sister and parents. One thing her family never seemed to lack…
Drama.
Since her family was the center of curious attention, she doubted anyone would dance with her. All dressed up in a beautiful purple silk gown with an empty dance card. Bored, she stood with the other women waiting to dance, wanting to leave and go to the gambling hall. At least there, her chances of winning were high.
Here, she stood, tainted by scandal.
A tall dark-haired man walked up to her, his emerald eyes twinkled in the candlelight. Dark bushy eyebrows and a neatly trimmed mustache sat above his full lips. A mysterious air clung to him and immediately she was drawn to the smile on his face.
“Would you care to dance?”
“Yes,” she said, thinking it was better than standing against the wall while the rest of the room whispered about her sister and the tycoon’s son being caught in a scandalous situation.
“Are you enjoying the ball?” he asked.
What could she say? Oh yes, especially when my family got into a screaming match in the library. But a polite woman did not express her opinions. Or so she’d been told. But then she was known for her outspokenness. But for once, maybe it was better she kept quiet.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“You are very beautiful,” he said, leaning close to her ear. His breath tickled and she liked the smell of him. The way his arms felt holding her.
“Thank you, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Walter Hersey,” he said.
The name escaped her and she waltzed about the floor in his embrace wondering if she could illude him and not tell him her real name. Because once he learned it was her family who caused the stir and the gossip, he would never speak to her again.
“And you are?”
Could she make up a name?
“My friends call me Red.”
He laughed. “I understand why.”
It was a nickname those closest to her knew, but for this man, she would not tell him her real name unless he insisted. And then he would walk away from her.
“What do you do, Walter Hersey?”
“I own a mining company,” he said.
“Gold or silver,” she asked.
“Silver and coal,” he replied. “It keeps me busy.”
“What do you do?” he asked, brow raised.
She couldn’t tell him she loved to gamble, instead she shrugged her shoulders. “Right now, I’m helping my father with his ranch.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth, either. About the only thing her father allowed his girls to do on the ranch was ride the horses.
The song ended and she expected him to escort her off the floor, but instead, he continued to dance to the next song, another waltz.
A smile crossed her face. “You’re an excellent dancer.”
“Thank you,” he said.
As they waltzed across the floor, she realized he was moving her toward the outside door. She glanced around and realized her mother had yet to return. Probably still convincing her sister that marriage was in her immediate future.
Did she want to go outside with this man? Would he think of her as being forward or did he know who her sister was and thought he could take advantage of the situation.
The man was attractive and she liked him, but not enough to ruin her reputation. Especially after what Meg had done tonight.
Suddenly she stopped. “I’m not going outside with you.”
He smiled, his eyes dancing with laughter. “Oh, I thought maybe we could sit outside and talk. Have a sip of punch.”
“In a snowstorm?”
“You’re the first woman I’ve danced with in six years. I thought it would be nice to talk without the crowd.”
The punch bowl was not outside, but rather across the other side of the room.
“Walter, I’ve enjoyed dancing with you. Good night,” she said and stepped out of his arms and walked across the floor to where all the young women waited for someone to ask them to dance.
Maybe it was innocent or maybe it was planned, but whatever, she would not be the second Trippe sister to create a scandal tonight
. The risks she took were much more calculated without a crowd of gossiping women.
Fannie took one last glance at the handsome man. Though the thought of kissing his full lips was tempting.
Chapter Two
June 1888
Why did men have all the fun? Fannie Trippe enjoyed gambling and taking risks and breaking society’s rules. Much to the dismay of her mother who threatened to send her to a convent if she couldn't find a man to marry her.
Sitting at a card table at the Grande Union Hotel's upscale gambling hall, a chandelier reflected in the ornate mirror hanging behind the bar. She was the only woman gambling in the exclusive club. The men either tried to flirt with her or ignore her, and she preferred the latter.
"Would the lady like to cut the cards?" the dealer asked.
A grin spread across her face. "No, the lady would not. Let the gentleman across the table do the honor."
For the better part of the evening, the dark-haired man seated across the way stared at her with his emerald eyes. Dressed in an expensive business suit, he had the refined stature of a man with power and class.
And he looked familiar.
Now, she remembered him. The Debutante ball, back in February. The ball where her sister made a scene.
Gazing at him, a shiver of excitement went through her. Had he never seen a woman gamble before? His hand sneaked out and divided the cards.
"Seven card stud," he said in a deep voice. "Deal the lady the first card."
"Thank you."
He nodded, a tendril of jet-black hair crossed his forehead. There was an air about him that spoke of wealth and sophistication, and he was just the sort of man she liked taking money from. The type she avoided because of her mother. The type of man who attended the Debutante Ball.
"Good luck, gentlemen," she said.
The first three cards were dealt, two down and one up, before she glanced at her hand. The king of hearts lay face up, the king of spades and a ten of clubs in her hand. A frown furrowed her brows on purpose as she studied the pair of kings.
With a sigh, she tossed a silver dollar into the ante. The three other players at the table glared at her. Tonight, her luck had been exceptionally good, taking two of the gentlemen's money and even sending one home busted. Now the remaining men's eyes were centered on her like they knew she was bluffing, and at the moment, she was.
"I'll raise you another dollar," the green-eyed man said, his expression unreadable.
She put her tongue to her upper lip and let it slide across her mouth as she contemplated her bet. She tossed another dollar into the growing pile of money. So far, none of the men had dropped out.
The dealer dealt the next cards up. Fannie resisted the urge to jump up and down but contained herself as a ten and four card landed face up beside her king. Two pairs -- kings and tens. One more card to go.
"I'm out," one man sitting next to her said, laying his hand down.
On the table, it appeared she had nothing and that was what she wanted them to think. It couldn't be possible that a girl could beat them at their own game. But she knew how to play poker. Had played the game with her grandfather until he died. By then, she had learned how to read card players and how to bluff.
"Oh," she said. "I think I'll pass the bet to the gentleman across the table."
His emerald eyes sparkled, and a trickle of interest sizzled up her spine. Not that her mother would ever give the man a chance. Oh, no, Fannie could never marry for love or attraction or any other reason than the fact her mother approved. And a gambling man would never meet her standards of wealth and power.
"Two dollars," he said, and she narrowed her eyes.
Either he had a great hand, or he was trying to fool everyone. When her turn came, she tossed in two silver dollars. If she lost this pot, she would be down for the night, but her instincts were telling her to go all in.
"I'll raise you another dollar," she said quietly.
Immediately another man dropped out, which left her and the gentleman with the dollar signs in his eyes.
The dealer dealt the last card down. Looking at her hand, she gave a sad face like she'd just lost her best friend, when in reality the king of clubs stared back at her. Full house.
As she looked up, she caught the man watching her every move. Laying another two dollars into the pile of money, she smiled and watched him contemplate the odds. Did he believe she had a winning hand or that she was bluffing?
No, she wasn't bluffing.
"You know you want to see my hand," she said, tempting him, wanting to take more of his cash.
He gave her a look that clearly said he didn't believe her. "What if my hand beats yours?"
With a shrug, she said, "Guess we'll never know unless you put in your money."
The man's lips tightened, not certain. Finally, he reached for his stack of coins and placed his bet.
"I call," he said firmly. "Show ‘em, Red.”
The name she’d told him that night. Hopefully he didn’t know her real name. Only her close friends called her Red.
"With pleasure." She laid down her cards. "Full house."
With a splat, he threw his cards down. "Beats my three of a kind."
A groan came from the men at the table. Tonight she cleaned their pockets of their hard earned cash.
Trying to contain her giddiness, she pulled the pile of silver dollars toward her and realized she had been playing for hours. "Does anyone have the time?"
"Ten to midnight," the man to her left said.
Panic gripped her. Somehow she’d lost track of time. "Oh no."
Almost midnight, she should have been home long before now. Her mother would have the hounds of hell searching for her, and she would find herself locked in a convent or married if caught.
First, her mother forced Meg, Fannie's older sister, to marry the railroad tycoon’s son and now her mother set her sights on finding Fannie a suitable husband. A rich man worthy of her middle daughter. Why not just put her up on an auction block? The richest man with the most social connections -- sold to the highest bidder.
Shoving the coins into her reticle, she stood. "Sorry, gentlemen, I enjoyed the evening, but I must get home."
All it would take would be her mother finding her here, and she would be on her knees praying for hours.
"Why, Cinderella? You turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" the man with the twinkling emerald eyes asked.
"If only it were that simple and my Prince Charming waited for me. Nothing but the threat of the convent is keeping me from staying. Good night, gentlemen."
Most definitely he remembered her. All she needed was her mother to learn of her gambling trips.
His brows rose in surprise as Fannie ran out the door of the gambling hall and down the steps to her horse. Crawling up on her mare, she pushed her dress out of the way, her exposed legs gleaming in the moonlight as she rode down the middle of Main Street, spurring the horse. Thank goodness, there was no one on the street to witness her daring behavior.
A thrill went through her. She liked being scandalous. She liked flirting with danger, and she liked the fact no one but her fellow gamblers would understand her love of playing for money.
Chapter Three
Walter Hersey stared at the gorgeous beauty who dashed through the gambling hall and out the door. Why did he feel like he wanted to know more about this woman, when in reality, he would never marry again?
"Who was that woman?" he asked his fellow gamblers.
"Fannie Trippe, and no, don't get too interested in her. She's a wild child with a mother who is searching to tie her to some man," the dealer said as he dealt the next hand.
What did someone have to do to be called a wild child? Especially a woman. Tonight, she appeared to be a nice woman. When a man tried to flirt with her, she would cut those sapphire eyes at him with a look loaded with buckshot. Then ignore the man.
"How does she get to gamble in here?"
The dealer laughed. "
The boss wasn't going to let her, so she challenged him to a game one night. She beat him, fair and square, and won the right to play anytime she wants to. Only thing is if her mother ever learns the truth, I would hate to be in her shoes."
Why would a woman take the chance of sullying her reputation by playing poker in a gambling hall with a bunch of men? Did she need the money?
"Tonight, she was a very good player. Is she always like this?"
"Pretty much every time she comes in here, she wins. I've seen her lose several hands. One night, she got burned badly in a game, but most of the time, she walks out with more cash than she came in with."
Interesting that she consistently won. But where did she learn to play without revealing her emotions on her face? Most women couldn't keep their feelings hidden.
The men chuckled and the player to his left said, "All you can do is stare at how beautiful and determined she is to win. And don't gaze at her face during the game or you'll lose almost every time. I'm expecting any day now for her mother to come crashing in here searching for her. The cat fight will be on."
The woman defied her mother and society by gambling. Seemed like disaster waiting to happen.
"She winked at me in church last Sunday as I walked by. Since my wife doesn't know I'm coming here, it’s best I keep my mouth shut."