by West, Everly
The Wagered Bride
The Ladies Club of Laramie Book 3
Everly West
Contents
Blurb
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
Epilogue
Thank You
The Rebellious Bride
The Obstinate Bride
The Eager Bride
Also By
About the Author
The precocious bride and the gambler.
Who wins? Who loses?
He wanted a dignified, docile wife—
Mason Mayfield would do anything to regain his ancestral home back. Even gamble his bachelorhood for the chance to win the deed to Whispering Pines.
He got a tree-climbing tomboy bride—
Samantha “Sammie” Wortham didn’t give a flying fig about high society or its restraints. She did what she wanted when she wanted. Now that she was of marrying age, she suspected her father would insist she find a husband. And he wasn’t above playing dirty to get what he wanted.
Can Mason and Samantha beat the odds and find true love?
Chapter 1
A searing need for retribution blazed through Mason Mayfield’s veins as he entered the White Buffalo Gentlemen’s Club. He stopped in the foyer, took off his fur-lined overcoat and handed it to the attendant waiting by the door. Winter in Wyoming could drive even the most wicked of people inside to huddle by a fire. Luckily, the last week had been comparatively mild.
As Mason sauntered among the club’s patrons with no apparent destination in mind, he stopped now and then to visit with friends and associates. In truth, he was a man on a mission.
A little over a year ago, he had vowed Whispering Pines—his ancestral lands—would once again be the home of Mayfields for generations to come. The estate had been lost over twenty years ago. Harrison Mayfield, Mason’s father, had been suckered into a “friendly game of cards” with a slick gambler by the name of JP Wortham. Before the sun rose the next morning, everything Harrison owed belonged to the card shark.
Wortham had made his fortune at the gaming tables while still a young man. But he'd given up gambling and settled down after he married his wife, Lydia. Long forgotten rumors hinted Lydia had threatened to take their son and newborn daughter and leave after he returned home with the deed to Whispering Pines in hand.
As far as Mason could tell that “friendly game of cards” between his father and JP Wortham was the last time Wortham gambled for more than mediocre amounts of cash or for sheer entertainment. That is, until six months ago when his wife died. During the time between then and the present, no lands had been wagered but a great deal of money changed hands at card tables where Wortham sat.
After Mason's father died, he had Wortham watched for over a year, waiting for the right time to reclaim what was rightfully his. Finally, late the previous evening, opportunity knocked. Strangely enough, it came in the form of Seth Wortham, JP’s only son.
Mason and Seth met shortly after Mason returned to Laramie. At first, Mason instigated the friendship as a way to keep tabs on JP, but not too long after, a true bond formed between the men. Soon Mason trusted Seth enough to reveal his plan to regain possession of his family lands. Seth was appalled by his father’s actions and vowed to help Mason set things right.
Last night, Seth sashayed into Mason’s hotel suite and announced he’d been invited to join his father and some friends for a poker game the following night. A simple plan was devised. Mason would wait until the last minute to inform JP and his cronies Seth wouldn’t be coming. Mason would be conveniently available should they wish to replace Seth at their table.
Forty-five minutes after entering the men’s club, Mason found Wortham and his friends waited for their fifth player to arrive. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Are you waiting for Seth Wortham?”
“Yes, we are,” one of the men answered.
“I’m afraid he’s been unavoidably detained and asked me to inform you he will not be attending tonight.”
“That’s a shame, I hate playing four-handed poker,” complained another man.
“Well, I’m off to see if I can scrounge up a game for myself this evening,” Mason said as he turned toward the larger common room. “Good evening, gentlemen, and sorry about your game.”
But before he could step away from the open doorway, a man with thinning red hair spoke. “Would you care to join us?”
Mason looked at each man sitting around the circular oak table before nodding his acceptance. “If there are no objections, it would be my pleasure.”
He walked farther into the small salon, pausing behind the empty chair at the table.
A robust man, whose hair parted near the top of his left ear, stood. Three long strands of light brown hair had been combed over to the other side of his head in an attempt to cover his growing bald spot. He introduced himself as he offered his hand. “Roy Greenleigh.”
Mason shook hands and nodded.
“Barry Lowell.” A man of medium to small stature with thinning light-red hair stood as he reached across the table to shake hands with the newcomer.
The next man in the circle stood and introduced himself. Not that it was necessary. “JP Wortham.”
Mason would have known the bastard who had stolen his birthright without benefit of good manners. JP’s physical appearance had been burned into Mason’s mind years ago. He hadn’t lost his distinguished looks or his greater-than-thou way he carried himself. Still, time hadn’t been oblivious of him either. In his early fifties, JP’s full head of dark brown hair had turned a silvery-gray. The man’s girth had grown considerably as well.
Mason chose to continue the pretense of a first meeting. As he shook Wortham’s offered hand, he noted the small, almost delicate, palms of the otherwise large man. An asset to any true gambler.
“Charles Rayburn,” the last man at the table said as he thrust his overly large hand out to Mason in a firm, friendly greeting. Rayburn's tall six-and-a-half-foot frame towered over Mason’s six-foot-two height, leaving him with a feeling of smallness. A sensation he was not familiar with nor did he enjoy.
“Mason Mayfield.” He gazed intently at Wortham, searching for any sign of recognition. When none came, Mason’s thirst for vengeance increased tenfold.
Wortham had taken more than Whispering Pines those many years ago. He had also taken Harrison Mayfield’s pride and self-esteem, replacing them with depression and self-doubt. Mason’s father had walked away broken, a shell of the man he was before he crossed paths with JP Wortham.
Wortham had crushed Harrison Mayfield’s spirit and soul between his two small hands—and didn’t even remember his name!
Mason tapped down the urge to wrap his hands around Wortham’s throat and squeeze—hard. Instead he faked an easy-going smile and said, “I look forward to a profitable game.”
“Don’t we all, sir.” Charles nodded toward the chairs, indicating they all be seated.
“Now see here, I’ve been the low man out the last three times we’ve played. I expect to win tonight and none of you forget it,” Roy announced as he lowered himself into the chair to Mason’s side. Mason grinned, thinking he could almost hear the chair groan beneath Roy’s weight.
“Now, Roy, you know how forgetful I’ve become of late. If I was to be the big winner tonight, you wouldn’t hold it
against an old friend, would you?” Charles joked as he picked up the cards and shuffled.
“Forgive me, Charles, of course, I’d understand a man in the twilight of his years becoming forgetful or disoriented,” Roy bantered back.
“If I’m in my twilight, you old fool, you stand in the blackest of midnight,” Charles countered good-naturally.
“Enough,” Barry hollered over the laughter of the small group. “If age is a factor this evening, Mason here will have to send for his wet nurse and then we might once again be one man short for our game. In his youth, he probably still has his priorities intact. A warm, willing woman would win out every time over four graying old men and a deck of cards. Let’s play cards before his interest falls elsewhere.”
“We play dealer’s choice, dollar ante, table stakes only,” JP informed Mason as the shuffling ceased.
Mason nodded his agreement.
“Ante up. We’re playing five-card draw, jacks or better to open.” Charles waited until all five men had anted before clumsily dealing the first hand of the night.
Hours later and many hundreds of dollars having exchanged hands, the five men sat under a thick cloud of cigar smoke hovering over their poker table.
“Last hand for me,” Barry announced, looking down at his small stack of money. “Hopefully, I have enough for an ante.”
Roy and Charles agreed to the last hand after a short bout of good-natured bickering about how much sleep the elderly required. JP picked up the cards.
“The game is five card stud.” JP deftly shuffled the cards after the men seated in the circle anted.
He dealt one card face down in front of each man and then followed with a second card face up. With a quick glance around the table, JP nodded to Barry. “Ten bets.”
“Three dollars,” declared Barry. “Not much showing.”
A chorus of “I’m in” answered Barry as four hands tossed money into the center of the table.
“Pot’s right. Cards coming,” JP said. Once again, starting with Charles and going around the circle, JP dealt each man a card face up. When he dealt Roy an ace, he commented, “The price of poker just went up. Roy, your ace is betting.”
“Fifty dollars.”
Barry released his breath as he placed his cards face down in front of him. “I fold.”
“I’m in this time,” JP said as he threw money into the pot.
“I’ll go one more time,” Charles announced, nervously drumming the table with his fingers.
“I’ll pay to look at another one,” Mason informed the other players.
“Pot’s right.” After JP doled out the remaining men and himself another card face up, he had control over the betting by virtue of a pair of fives showing. A twinkle sparkled in his violet-blue eyes when he spoke. “It’s time to play poker, boys. Let’s say, five hundred on my fives.”
“No, I’m through,” Charles conceded, standing to join Barry at the liquor cabinet.
“I'm still in.” Mason slid all his remaining money on the table into the pot. "Let's make it a thousand."
“I think I’ve got the two of you beat, but I don’t have the intestinal fortitude or finances to stay. The game is too rich for my blood. I fold.” Roy stood and joined Barry and Charles on the other side of the room.
JP met the thousand dollar raise then calmly stated, “This is where we’ve been heading all night, isn’t it, Mason?”
“Just you and me,” Mason agreed in the same calm manner as JP, ignoring the zing of excitement racing up his spine. “Turn the cards.”
JP slung the ten of hearts across the table to join Mason’s seven, eight, and nine of hearts already showing.
“That certainly opens all kinds of possibilities. Straight flush, flush, straight or maybe just four lonely cards,” JP narrated to anyone listening. JP flipped over the top card of the remaining deck to place it with the pair of fives and one seven in front of him. A seven. “Ah, two pair—sevens and fives.”
After a lengthy pause, JP leaned back in his chair to study Mason. “What is it the son of Harrison Mayfield really wants from me?”
Fury mixed with surprise rolled over Mason. The bastard had recognized him from the moment he'd entered the room and said nothing. With a great effort, he reined in his anger and glared at Wortham. “My birthright.”
“Whispering Pines? That would be costly and I have all the money I could ever want. Besides, I don’t think you have anything of like worth to match a wager of that size.” JP paused, giving Mason the impression of denial.
“I’m sure we could work something out. You might be surprised the resources at my fingertips,” Mason coaxed, trying once more to tantalize JP. “I would consider any proposal you might suggest.”
JP studied Mason a moment then chuckled. “Proposal? An excellent choice of words. That is exactly what I would consider. It’s time my daughter married.”
Four gasps echoed within the velvet covered walls of the private salon.
“Did he say what I thought he said?” Charles looked to the two men standing beside him for conformation.
“Damn it, Barry, you’re a judge. Do something,” Roy demanded of the redheaded man pouring himself another drink.
Judge? A representative of the law just happened to be in attendance? The notion niggled its way through the befuddled haze smothering any coherent thought.
“What? There’s no legal statute pertaining to this situation. This is a matter of a man’s honor and how high that man holds it in esteem.” Barry spoke loudly, causing Mason’s hands to shake slightly. “I’ve already folded out of this hand, thank God.”
Barry, Roy, and Charles stepped to the table where JP and Mason sat staring at each other. Charles placed a tumbler filled with bourbon in front of Mason. “Here, son, you look like you need this more than I do.”
Without acknowledging Charles’s kindness, Mason leaned forward in his chair to rest his forearms on the table’s edge. He spoke in even, flat tones which gave no sign of the emotional turmoil raging behind his expressionless face. “I believe you should be more specific with the details before I agree to such a wager.”
“It’s simple. If you win, I’ll sign over Whispering Pines to you tonight. If I win, you will pay court and marry my daughter—without her knowing of this game. Whispering Pines will be my gift to the newly wedded couple.”
Mason raised a mocking eyebrow.
JP waved his hand at Mason’s unspoken skepticism. “It has always been my intention for Whispering Pines to be a wedding gift.”
“At worse, if I lose,” Mason let a sneer seep into his tone. “I get Whispering Pines with an insignificant amount of excess baggage.”
Mason watched JP grapple with his temper for half a heartbeat before he slammed his poker face back into place. But it was enough for Mason to know his barb had hit home.
Good. About time he squirmed a little.
“That's the gist of it, yes. Understand I would see my daughter married within two months of today. Of course, these gentlemen will be witness to any wagering we might agree upon,” JP informed Mason.
A long silence lay heavy in the private room. Suddenly, JP broke the suffocating silence. “Barry, would you bring me two pieces of paper?”
Without a word, paper, pen and ink well were placed in front of him. JP boldly wrote WHISPERING PINES on a piece of paper and gently laid it on top of the pile of money in the center of the table.
“I believe it’s your bet.” JP slid another piece of paper and pen toward Mason. “Do you fold or call?”
Mason took the items from him, and with a steady hand, wrote his bid before intentionally placing it on top of JP’s note. The three bystanders, all seemingly holding their breaths, leaned forward to read what Mason had written. In bold letters were the words THE FREEDOM TO CHOOSE MY WIFE.
Deliberate and unconcerned, Mason’s gaze never left JP’s. “I call.”
JP took a short, quick breath and his eyes widened slightly. If Mason had
n’t been paying close attention, he’d have missed it.
So Wortham hadn’t expected him to call his bluff.
After an extended heartbeat, JP turned over another seven and announced, “Full House.”
Reality punched Mason in the gut—hard, almost knocking the air from his lungs. What the hell had he just done? Gambled away his bachelorhood?
Using every ounce of willpower he possessed, he maintained his detached demeanor. Wordlessly, Mason flipped his remaining card over. The two of hearts.
“He only has a flush,” Roy whispered, although all could hear him in the hush of the room.
“Full house beats a flush,” Charles informed the others, which was unnecessary since they were all well aware of poker’s winning order.
Mason stood on shaky legs and with one swift gulp, downed the drink Charles had placed in front of him earlier. “We did agree this would be our last hand.”
Mason kept his features as devoid of expression as he had all evening, whether winning or losing. “I believe I’ve lost all I can afford to lose in one evening. Good night, gentlemen.”
JP waited until Mason touched the doorknob before announcing, “Samantha and I will be attending Quincy’s Valentine Ball tomorrow night. I will introduce you to your future bride there.”
Not trusting his voice, Mason only nodded and left.
Chapter 2
Samantha Wortham burst into Kelly Quincy’s bedroom, two friends, Cora O’Brian and Jane Farnsworth, riding into the room on the wave of her temper. “I’m so mad, I could spit!”
