"What does she say?" one of the players asked.
"She wants to know how to play."
"I'd say she wants something else. And it ain't dice. I know looking at her makes me want something else." The men laughed. "She going to make you quit?"
"No woman tells me what to do," Tonio said. Then he spoke to her in English, for the men's benefit. "You can't play, honey. This is a man's game." He switched to Italian. "I suspected, but we don't want to cause a scene."
"Demand payment, then scare him off with your knife."
He laughed.
"You are wearing it?"
"I always wear it. This is penny stuff, not worth the trouble. Go back to your seat."
"No."
The men laughed again. No was no in almost any language.
She stood up again, positioning herself directly opposite the cheater.
Tonio sighed. "She wants to watch."
The game picked up again. Angelina made no pretense about it. She watched the cheater like a hawk watches a field for mice. Under her surveillance he lost his nerve and quit, mumbling an excuse about needing a bite to eat. The game broke up quickly. She sauntered back to her seat with Tonio on her heels.
"You ruined the game."
"I watched. That's all."
"I was winning."
She shrugged. "You were letting a cheater fleece all of you."
"I was cheating, too."
She turned on him, eyes blazing, but he didn't cower.
"I had you in the background to rattle their nerves."
She flushed. It was a compliment of sorts. "You weren't really cheating?"
"On my honor." He crossed his heart. "I've never met anyone with such high morals!" He laughed loudly and fully.
"Then you must not associate with very nice people."
"The best in the Silver Valley."
"If that is true, then perhaps I should be worried." She turned from the aisle into her seat.
"Yes, definitely. You should be worried."
"I want to play dice tomorrow."
They'd just finished making their bed for the night. Angelina sat on her side of the chumming board, next to the window, brushing out her long hair with smooth even strokes.
"You can't. It's a man's game." Tonio watched her with interest, holding down the urge to grab the brush and attend to the task himself. He wondered what was so damned enticing about her, other than the obvious.
Her eyes flashed fury. "You won ten dollars. I can win at least that much."
"If you are going to insist on relying on a man and believing that you must have one to take care of you, then you are going to have to allow us our games, unhindered with your company." He smiled at her. He liked seeing her temper up. "Besides, everyone knows that betting is highly mathematical, based on odds, and women don't understand such things." He waited, anticipating her response.
"Porco cane!"
She'd insulted him by calling him a pig dog. He probably deserved it.
"I have a head for math that puts yours to shame!" She shook her brush at him.
He believed it. He'd seen her add the prices for their meals in her head, calculating the bill ahead of time and tossing in her share before the cash register was done chiming.
"It takes nerve."
"I have nerve."
"It takes money."
He had her there. He knew she had none to waste. He saw the disappointment register. His eyes traveled down from her face to where her gold necklace lay in the pillow of her bosom. It was a good excuse to stare. Her hand flew to it immediately.
"Lend me the money. I'll pay you back with my winnings."
"No."
"You aren't being fair. Part of the money you won today is mine."
"I'm being incredibly fair. That money is for train fare."
"You're afraid I'll do better than you."
"I tell you what, to prove how fair I am, we'll play a practice game to see how it goes. If you win, I'll back you with a few dollars. If the men will let you play. If I win, I get the necklace."
"No!" She shook her head emphatically. "This necklace for a few dollars? You're crazy. Name something else."
His eyes traveled to her pouting lips. "All right. A kiss." He played a dangerous game, but he had no intention of winning. She wanted to play. He'd let her, with dignity.
Her triumphant smile was not lost on him.
"I'd as soon kiss a donkey." She paused coyly, for effect, he was certain. "But I accept your deal."
"I'll stake you two dollars. The loser is the first one to go broke." He pulled two dice from his duffel. "Shall we begin?"
The game wasn't much fun with only two playing. He had a supreme run of luck, which even he had to admit to himself. Since there were only two playing the one had to fade the shooter every time. He naturaled, against all odds, five times running, bankrupting her inside of ten minutes, even though he'd meant to lose.
"That showed no skill! That was merely luck," she complained.
"Poor loser. Luck is part of the game."
"I suppose you want your kiss now." Her tone held less disgust than it should have.
From her flushed cheeks and pursed lips he could tell the idea excited her, though she tried to feign indifference.
"No, I think not. That was for effect," he said.
Her face fell, but was quickly followed by a scowl.
"When I kiss a woman, it's because she wants it as badly as I do. I don't do it on a whim of luck."
"Then you admit you were lucky tonight!"
"Maybe."
"You'll let me play tomorrow?"
She was quick on the uptake.
"Maybe." The way she stared at him made him want that kiss after all. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Sleep tight." He lay down and turned over. He felt her fuming behind him. She wasn't going to give up. He was certain of that.
Chapter 4
Twenty five dollars in coin, including a glittering gold half eagle that sent Angelina's heart pattering every time she looked at it, towered in a pile next to Tonio, who sprawled casually on the floor in the half circle of men, legs outstretched toward the side. Angelina knelt behind him, her full skirt billowed around her, leaning against his back, at times pressing forward against him, her hand resting intimately on his shoulder, in an effort to see around him and watch the play of the dice as they bounced off the wall under the window. All her previous anger at the men for not letting her play on her own was forgotten in the passion of their winning streak.
Tonio placed the bets she dictated, seemingly amused by the enthusiasm she'd gained for the game since being allowed some part in it, although she was never allowed to toss the dice. The other men seemed less amused by her presence. She used a system, betting with the odds every time. During the morning of play she'd lost only one bet, and that one on the come at even payoff. As soon as the traitorous dice had settled in their lie, her nose had wrinkled in disgust. Tonio laughed at her as he paid off and remarked that he'd never let her play poker.
The man immediately to their right was having an unusually long and lucky streak as shooter. Angelina studied him during play and concluded quickly that pure luck was responsible for his success. He recklessly placed bets with the odds well against him. Sooner or later his streak would end and it would be their turn to shoot. Angelina was betting it would be sooner. She eyed his pile of money, which was larger than theirs. With that much cash they could surely buy first class tickets from Chicago.
Somewhere in the last twenty-four hours Tonio's goal had become hers. As Tonio wooed her with his tales of first class travel, her excitement at the novelty of train travel paled. Something in her longed to experience the opulence of first class, to see how the rich lived. She felt his impatience when they pulled over to allow an express to pass, or when they were sidelined for hours loading freight. She longed to feel the rush of traveling at top speed, the way passenger-only trains were allowed. The urge to compete and win, to
see a tall store of money in front of her overcame her. She could not fell it. But it did not erode her caution. With studious even betting, they would win. Tonio had noticed her addiction and mentioned that her eyes shone with a pretty gleam of avarice. She thought it was a compliment.
"Greed comes before a fall, isn't that what they say?" he'd added.
She realized then that he was insulting her. "I believe that's pride."
He laughed, well aware of the proper saying. "You let gambling fever get hold of you, you're lost. Be careful Angelina. I've seen eyes like those aplenty surrounding gambling tables, happily watching as their owners lose everything."
"Place our bet. One dollar on a natural." She let her irritation show. The game continued.
The man to their right tossed the dice. They bounced off the wall and fell back into a pair of fours. Angelina leaned close and whispered in Tonio's ear. "Place two on a gag that he won't make his point with a double four."
"No, bet right that he comes on the next roll. Same two."
She shook her head. "He's foolhardy. He'll take our bet. We're guaranteed a win. He just rolled two fours, what are the odds he'll do it again?"
"Ten to one."
He didn't need to tell her, she could figure or recall odds faster than the rest of them. She knew that he was baiting her.
"If we lose, we pay off at the same," he continued.
"He just rolled his one. The odds are with us."
"He's on a hot streak."
Angelina didn't listen. She leaned past him and scooped the half eagle out of the pile. "See, I'm preserving our original investment." Then she set two silver dollars out in front of them. Tonio called the bet, which the man accepted as Angelina had predicted. The man shooting held the dice out to her to blow on.
"Care to blow out my luck?"
She shook her head. "Tell him, I'd as soon spit on them. He hasn't a prayer of winning."
The shooter laughed and tossed with great care, aiming at the wall with exaggerated movements. The dice bounced, the first die landing a solid, stationary four immediately. The second rolled to the edge of the semicircle, nearly out of play, before settling into the second four. Angelina's mouth fell open.
"Hot damn!" the victor cried out.
She covered her mouth to stifle a scream. She couldn't look at Tonio. He must be furious. She fled to her seat. Twenty dollars, over a week's worth of wages, gone!
"With that little stroke of luck, I pass," the shooter said. He moved to hand the dice to Tonio.
"I'm out. Go on without me."
She heard his steps coming down the aisle, then felt his eyes bearing down on her from where he stood in the aisle, but she couldn't look up to meet the fury she expected to find. He reached over her and let the window down a few inches. Cool spring air swept down on her.
"You look green." His voice was calm.
"You can look at me." He settled into the seat next to her. When she still refused to look up, he gently pulled her chin round and tipped her face to meet his. "I won't hit you. Is that what you expect?"
"I'm sorry. I lost all your money."
He showed her the half eagle. It glinted gamely in the sunlight. "What did I lose? I still have my original investment."
"I'd be furious."
"That's you."
She pulled away, confused by his gentleness. "Spoken as someone who grew up with money."
"Is it harder to have had and lost, or never to have had at all?"
"It was a safe bet. The odds were against him."
"That's why they're called odds, there's always the chance—"
"He shouldn't have won."
"Angelina, you can't always bet with the odds. Sometimes you've got to go with what's in your gut."
"You knew he'd win?"
"I would have bet differently. He was hot. Where were your country superstitions to guide you when you needed them most?" His tone was light, joking. He was trying to cheer her.
"Aristicratico!" The word was a barely audible whisper under her breath.
"I may have come from nobility, but I'm as poor as you are. And no one gives a damn about bloodline here." He pushed up and strode off down the aisle and into the next railcar. She was vindicated that at last he was mad. But she couldn't help wondering why.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence, staring at each other over the meal that he insisted on buying with money he'd won playing craps after their big loss. He forced angry forkfuls down, followed by swigs of beer. She pushed bites around in random patterns on her plate, uneasy with his anger.
"Are you going to eat the damned food or just fork it to death?"
"I'm sorry." She took a bite of chicken to appease him.
"Look, I thought getting off the train for a meal would be a treat. We've been trapped there for days."
She took another bite. He still sounded angry.
"You thought I was gloating, buying this meal. That's it, isn't it?"
"No. Why do you insist on believing that I'm still angry? My anger passes quickly. At first, I couldn't understand why you weren't angry with me, now I can't understand why you are."
"You don't have the power to provoke me to anger."
"Don't I?"
"I don't want to hear any aristocrat crap again. I'm an American, pure and simple. The fact that I was born to a titled family is an unfortunate quirk of nature. I renounced my Italian citizenship at the first opportunity years ago. And my family sure as hell renounced me. I have no desire to ever return to the forsaken place of my birth. If you had half an ounce of brain in your head, you'd feel the same. How long is it going to take you to realize that we're on common ground here? That I'm not the enemy?"
"How long is it going to take you to realize that I love my homeland and don't share your opinion of it?"
"All right, truce." He flagged the waiter and ordered a piece of pie. When the waiter asked if the lady would like dessert also she answered for herself, ordering a slice of cake. "Where'd you learn to speak English?"
"I learned a little from my work in the signor's household and taught myself the rest in New York. Mario's boys practiced with me. Both speak a little; they must for their jobs."
"That explains your pronunciation. You weren't taught by someone who speaks it as a first language. We'll work on it. By the time we reach Idaho I'll have you speaking like a native. How much do you understand?"
"Most, if people don't speak too quickly."
"Read?"
"Enough to get by." He smiled at her, but she had the feeling he was patronizing her. "Does it surprise you that I read?"
"You think it should?"
"Peasants usually don't, and more especially, women don't. I haven't had the advantages the wealthy, or even men, have. At least they aren't looked down on for trying to learn. Papa taught me to read against my own mother's wishes. She thought it frivolous, but then, she can't see how it benefits Papa, and he is a man after all. My parents are not well matched in that way. Mama cares nothing about learning." She sized him up.
Education was a touchy topic with her. She had a quick mind that yearned to learn, but by accident of her own birth, had been denied. If not for Papa she would have starved intellectually. "Where were you educated? The best schools? The finest Italy has to offer?" Though she didn't mean to sound adversarial, the tone was clearly present in her voice.
"The seminary," he said.
She knew he watched her reaction with immense satisfaction. His eyes danced as he stared at her. But she couldn't disguise her reaction. Her eyes went wide. A steam whistle sounded before she could press him further.
He threw a pile of money on the table and stood, coming round to pull out her chair while she sat, stunned. He helped her up by her elbow and pulled her away. "Come on. The train won't wait. I think the engineer enjoys seeing us scramble to get back." He sighed. "I was looking forward to that pie."
The depot restaurant cleared quickly, most of the clientele returned to board the
soon-to-be departing train. There was a crush at the door. Tonio grabbed her hand to pull her through. She was still too stunned to pull it away.
Angelina lay on the chumming board staring up at the rounded ceiling above her. Sleep was a faint hope. Tonio sat beside her, buffing the dust off his boots as he prepared for the night. Neither one had spoken since they'd boarded. He swung his legs around and up onto the makeshift bed, then turned facing away from her in preparation for sleep.
"Tonio," she asked, "What were you doing in the seminary?"
He rolled over to face her, studying her for a moment before propping up on one elbow. "Living in exile."
She looked relieved. "You weren't studying to be a priest?"
"Angelina, you're such an innocent. What else would I be doing at the seminary?"
"Oh." Then silence as he stared at her. "Are you?"
"What? A priest? No!" He laughed and leaned into her. His face was inches from hers. "Why do you want to know? Perhaps there's something you want to confess?"
She didn't understand the look he wore. This was a serious matter. "Did you break your vows?"
"Holy Orders? I never took them. A little incident with a girl came up."
Her relief was accompanied by a surge of jealousy over the mention of the girl. She didn't like to think of him as having been so distracted by another woman that he gave up his calling to be a man of God. Yet her reaction made no sense. She surely couldn't be falling in love with such a wild and reckless man.
"Were you worried or prepared to be disgusted by traveling with one defiled?"
"Oh, Tonio! How can you joke about this? You know that if you broke your vows you'll be damned for eternity. You can't walk away from a promise with God."
"Are you so worried about the condition of my soul?"
"Yes."
He leaned even closer over her, and though she didn't understand it, his eyes lit up with some intense emotion that she couldn't name or describe. If she pursed her lips he'd come down in a kiss. Her heart pounded, but she was at a loss. She desired his kiss, and it frightened her. The way her body reacted to his nearness was unfamiliar, and exciting, but forbidden. And she had to know. The jealous beast inside her had to be sated. "Did she mean so much to you that you would give up your calling?"
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