The man cast a wary gaze, then relaxed. “Sorry about that. But you sure as hell look like him.”
“It might be the wrong time to mention it,” Burke said as he stood, then bent and scooped up his hat, “but Patrick is my brother.” He offered to shake hands with the grizzled cowboy. “Belly up to the bar and I’ll buy you a drink.”
“No hard feelin’s?”
Burke patted the man on the shoulder. “No hard feelings. Now, how about that drink?” He strode to the bar and tossed a couple of coins on the counter. “Two whiskeys.”
“I’m drinkin’ beer,” the cowboy said.
“Make that two beers, then.”
The barkeep nodded and set to work drawing the foamy beer from a keg with “The Golden Brewery” emblazoned on the front. One thing Burke liked about Colorado—a man could find a good brew here. Now, if he could only find his brother.
When the barkeep slid the mugs down the counter, Burke snagged them both and handed one to the cowboy. After they’d both had a good gulp, he said, “So when did you see Patrick?”
The cowboy wiped his lip with his sleeve. “Oh, a week back, I s’pose.”
“And then he left town?”
“Yup.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Nope.” He finished off the last of his brew. “But if I was you, I’d watch my step. I ain’t the only one lookin’ for him.”
Which meant that Patrick had left town a winner, probably headed for Antonito. Burke raised his mug in a silent salute to his brother’s success and drained the rest of the beer. “Thanks.” He slapped the cowboy on the back. “Watch your aces, buddy.”
He left the saloon whistling. He’d seen plenty of fish aching to be caught, but tonight he needed more well-heeled clientele to beef up his purse. The wealthy patrons at the hotel fit the bill, and he was ready for a rousing game of faro. He breathed in the fresh evening air, a welcome change from the smoke-laden saloon, and headed back toward the hotel.
Along the way, a working girl propositioned him. “You can rest today, miss.” He gave her ten dollars and she stuffed it between her breasts.
“Oh, thank you, sir!” She skittered down a dark alley. Burke hoped she’d enjoy a good meal, but he’d been around long enough to know she’d probably smoke it or drink it.
“Stop right there, O’Shaughnessy,” a man hollered from across the street.
Burke held up his hands. Another man who mistook him for Patrick. This could get old, fast. “I’m not who you think I am.” Burke tried to place the familiar voice.
As the man drew his revolver and moved under the street lamp, Burke saw exactly who he faced—Dayton Wardell. And he wouldn’t be any happier to see Burke than his brother. Wardell had spent a couple of years behind bars after he’d been caught in a sting Burke had set up with the Pinkertons up in Cheyenne in ‘79.
“Don’t move or I’ll plug you.”
A still target was a lot easier to hit than a moving one. Burke palmed his derringer as he leapt behind a wagon. “I’ve got no truck with you. Go on home and sleep it off.”
“Throw your weapon down, mister.” Burke glanced to his right and saw the town marshal aiming his Sharps at Wardell. “I’ll have no gunplay in my town.”
Burke took the opportunity to slip into the afternoon shadows. The marshal didn’t need him, and Wardell sure as hell didn’t need him. As several cowboys strutted down the boardwalk, Burke blended in with them, veering into the saloon as they passed by.
He damned well didn’t want to lead Wardell back to the hotel—and Lexie. Maybe the fish in the Nugget Saloon were fat enough after all.
* * *
Lexie sighed and wondered if Burke would ever come back. He’d been gone two hours. Not for the first time, she speculated that he’d stranded her after all.
For the last very long hour, Lexie had paced, unwilling to sit on the bed in which Burke would soon be lying—if he came back. She absentmindedly fingered the ruby brooch pinned to the collar of her sky-blue shirtwaist. Happier days, those. She’d received the brooch for her twenty-first birthday. Back then, her sister hadn’t yet made a fool of herself, and Lexie hadn’t lost all hope of finding a husband.
The latch on Burke’s trunk looked invincible. He’d padlocked it, but the bag was only buckled. No, he wouldn’t leave without his “tools,” as he’d called his gambling paraphernalia.
The money he’d stolen from her was probably in the trunk. And she was still convinced that he’d stolen her money, somehow, no matter what he said. It could be in the bag, though. She shook her head at the very thought of snooping. Prying into other people’s affairs and physical effects was wrong. Tempting, but wrong.
She ambled to the nightstand and idly examined a small crock of rose-scented potpourri. Burke’s smelly cigar would soon smother the delicate scent. She leaned against the wall, wishing the room had a proper chair. The bed took up most of the floor space—inhibiting a good and proper pacing pattern.
He’d be sleeping in that bed tonight.
Her stomach growled for supper even though it was early. She still had the money he’d given her in Durango and she knew that if he’d found himself a game, he might not be back for hours. Besides, she’d been in the room long enough.
Dining alone seemed a bit daring. No lady would even consider it in the East. No lady would be stuck in a strange town with a gambler, either, but she was. She paced few more rounds, then flopped down on the bed, grabbing his carpetbag as she sat. She doubted the cur had put her money in it, but if he had, she was entitled to it.
She found nothing of interest—a deck of cards, a suit of longhandles, toiletries, and an extra shirt, collar, and cuffs. No money. She folded the clothing carefully and replaced all the items exactly the way they were.
Her stomach growled again. That did it. She couldn’t wait a minute more. If she chose her seating well, she would be able to see the hotel entrance from the dining room. Mr. O’Shaughnessy couldn’t possibly get past without her notice.
Ten minutes later, she sat in the dining room facing the hotel entrance and savored the steaming roast pork the waiter placed before her. She ate with relish, concentrating on her meal and while she monitored the front door, avoiding the rude sniffs and averted eyes of the escorted ladies. Lexie noted that the gentlemen who nodded their greetings as they passed her table didn’t seem to have a problem with her presence.
After she enjoyed the last of the juicy, red cherries that she’d ordered, she dabbed her mouth with her napkin, left a dollar on the table to cover the meal and the tip, and stood.
Laughter from the lounge drew her attention. Just in case Mr. O’Shaughnessy was in there, she peeked in. Several men were playing vingt-et-un.
One man stood and threw his card down. “Too rich for my blood,” he said as he put on his jacket. “See you boys at the mine tomorrow.” Lexie had to enter the room to clear the doorway for the departing man.
Another player noticed Lexie and nodded. She didn’t know whether to run or acknowledge him. After a brief moment, she nodded back.
“Come and sit in on a hand or two, miss.”
She licked her lips and backed away a step. “I couldn’t.”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know why not. I’m Howard.” He pointed to the man on his left. “This here’s Frank, and Henry’s across from me. As you can see, we’re a player short right now.”
A player short? Misters O’Shaughnessy and Smith gamed with her and that worked out fine. “You can play with three people. I’ve done it before.”
Howard wrinkled his brow. “You can?”
“Certainly.” She wondered if she should offer to show them, but thought better of it.
Henry pushed back his chair and stood. “We’d be right pleasured for you to show us, miss.” He pulled out the empty chair. “Just for a hand or two?”
She shouldn’t. After only one game, and playing with matchsticks at that, she certainly was no expert. On the other
hand, at the end of the game, all the matchsticks were hers. Counting cards posed no challenge. Calculating the odds was even easier. Reading the other players, however, hadn’t proved to be her long suit.
“We’d be happy to have you, miss,” Howard said, “even for a little while, just to get us going with a three-handed game.”
“I’m waiting for my... husband. He should be here anytime.” She had nine dollars left. If she could win a few hands, she’d have the money back that Burke had stolen from her. And she did know how to play. He’d told her she was quite good at it. Besides, she’d won everything from two men who knew well how to play. And if these men weren’t so accomplished...
“Your husband’s welcome to join us, too. We’ll watch for him.”
“Is nine dollars enough?”
Howard smirked as he stood and held the chair for her. “I’ll give you fifty dollars for that brooch and you can buy in with that and your nine dollars.”
She took a deep breath and studied the three men. They seemed like regular fellows. What could a game or two hurt? She needed her own money, whether ill-gotten or not. And she knew the odds. Burke had said she was a natural card player.
The brooch weighed heavy on her throat. Touching it, she chewed her lower lip, knowing full well that Helen’s breach of propriety paled in comparison to what Lexie was considering.
But no one from Washington, DC would ever know. And she refused to allow Burke to continue paying her way. She’d rather procure funds through gambling than be his kept woman.
She unpinned her brooch. “All right, just for a little while.”
Chapter 4
Burke ambled into the hotel’s card room wondering who the lady seated at the game table was. Lexie! He stopped short, then, adopting a casual air, leaned against the wall. She had no business playing for money yet. One lesson did not a thoroughbred make.
Were the game straight, she’d have a chance, but he’d noticed the dealer slip an ace of clubs up his sleeve. The man was clumsy, but probably good enough to put one over on an unsuspecting and naïve Lexie.
Burke took careful note of the scoundrel, who threw over his hole card—an ace of clubs to go with his jack of spades, giving him twenty-one.
Her lower lip trembled. Burke wanted to bust the dirty bastard in the chops right then and there. She’d been cheated. The dealer was fairly good at it, too. At least, good enough to fool an untrained eye.
“That’s not possible,” she murmured, her hands clutched at her throat. Her gaze still fixed on the man’s cards, she turned over her hole card, a five of hearts. She had twenty-one also, but the dealer won the pot because he had a natural. “Sir, you already played a card with one black clover on it. I’m positive of it.”
He shrugged and raked in the money piled in the center of the table. “You must be mistaken, ma’am.”
The other two men nodded their agreement with the dealer, but Burke doubted that Lexie had made an error. In fact, he’d have staked his life on it. He gritted his teeth. The one time he’d played vingt-et-un with her, she’d not just counted cards—she knew exactly which cards had been played. No matter how fast or how slow the game went, she had never been wrong.
Lesson time for amateur cheaters. And he’d be happy to deliver it to these three sleazy sharps—men so wretched they’d take advantage of a lady. He knew they’d gone fishing for her. Lexie would’ve never scared up a game on her own.
She stood and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt. Her gaze was unfocused and her movements mechanical. “It can’t be.”
Burke moved to her side. “I’m back, darlin’,” he whispered in her ear. He wrapped his arm around her waist and gently nudged her toward the door. “You run on up to the room. I’ll be there in a little bit.”
Her eyes reflected hurt and confusion. He had all he could do to keep from ripping off the three men’s heads and spitting in the holes. Later. Lexie didn’t need to see that. With another nudge, she floated out of the room in a daze.
Burke came back to the table and motioned for the men to be seated. “Let’s have us a little game, boys.” He took a cigar from his vest pocket. “Light,” he told the dealer. After a few well-aimed puffs, Burke pulled out his own deck of cards. “I’m Burke O’Shaughnessy. And you?”
The three men acted ready to bolt. None of them seemed too anxious to reveal his name. Burke lunged and grabbed the dealer’s right hand; his trigger finger cracking was music to Burke’s ears. Then he twisted the bastard’s collar good and tight, and dragged the gasping, bug-eyed sharper over the table, scattering chips everywhere. “Maybe you’re hard of hearing. I asked your name.”
“Howard,” he squeaked.
“Frank,” said the one on the sharper’s right.
The third man gulped. “Henry.”
Burke tossed Howard back in his chair, nearly sending the man ass-over-teakettle. “Just relax. You’ve had some fun—now I’m joining you.” He tossed the lizard, a holdout device, he’d pulled from Howard’s sleeve on the table. “Mercy me. Look what I found.”
“That’s... not mine,” the sharper stammered.
Burke rocked the chair on its back legs. “Oooh, I didn’t say it was.” He studied the lizard and bent it in half. “I’m sure whoever you borrowed this from won’t be a bit vexed about a few little dents.”
“I didn’t borrow it.”
“That’s good, then. You won’t have to explain to One-Eyed Jim how you happened to mess up his lizard, now will you?” Burke had seen this type of hold-out device all around Colorado. Jim Carl sold them for fifty bucks—usually on credit. “So how much do you owe on it?”
Howard fidgeted. His right cheek had a tic, Burke noted. An easy read. The lizard looked new. Good old Howard probably owed upward of forty bucks on the now-defunct device. A pity, that.
“Not saying, huh?” Burke chuckled then pointed at the strewn chips. “Stack those up, Howard. You have to learn to keep a tidy table if you’re planning to play with the thoroughbreds.”
Frank and Henry helped Howard put things aright. When they finished, the three of them eyeballed him like cornered coyotes.
Burke tapped the deck on the table. “Five-card draw’s the game. Ten-dollar ante. Pay up, boys.” All three men reluctantly tossed in their money. Burke shuffled and riffled the deck a few times.
He sent Howard a cold sneer. “Now, how many one-spotted clovers are in a deck?”
* * *
At the rap on her hotel room door, Lexie quickly dabbed her eyes, splashed cold water on her face, and patted herself dry. She might be a fool, but she’d be a cool and composed fool.
“Lexie, let me in.” Burke’s voice was low, but not threatening.
She dreaded seeing him—dreaded the lecture she knew was coming and that she sorely deserved. She’d berated herself for her own stupidity during the past hour. Playing poker to win a few dollars had seemed like a good idea. The smartest spinster in Washington, DC was downright stupid in Colorado.
For the first time, she understood how Helen could have committed her own grievous error. She’d been sent to Colorado merely for playing the wrong music in the wrong place. Lexie’s lapse in judgment eclipsed Helen’s mistake by far.
He rapped again.
“I’m coming.” Lexie opened the door and he barged in, carrying a hatful of money.
“This is yours. Enjoy.” He dumped the money on the nightstand, then handed her the ruby brooch. “And I understand this is yours, too.”
“Thank you.” She took the brooch and tossed it in her carpetbag, then estimated the value of the coins on the stand. The pile of money amounted to a lot more than what she started with—at least two hundred or more. “But I’m afraid that money isn’t mine. I only started with nine dollars.”
“You had a whole lot more than nine dollars in front of you before that slimy crook cheated you on that last hand.”
She would have given anything for him not to have seen her humiliation. She thought she coul
d easily win some money, but somehow she’d been duped. Or maybe there were different cards in different decks. But after seeing her disastrous foray into the world of poker, Burke would never respect her intelligence now. “Oh. You saw.”
“I saw.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, and she couldn’t help but take a half-step toward him where she’d feel safe. He drew her, somehow, without moving a muscle. She gazed into his dark blue eyes, nearly indigo, seeing kindness where she thought she’d find ridicule.
“Ah, Lexie,” he said, his voice enticingly low. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen many a poker player get skinned exactly the same way. There are some things you need to know. Good old George had a lizard. Do you know what that is?”
She shook her head. George was a lizard, as far as she was concerned.
“It’s a contraption that the sharp, the cheat, wears under his sleeve. It snaps a card up like this.” He took his hands from her shoulders, leaving them cold and empty. He slipped a card out of his vest pocket. “See this card?”
She did, and then she didn’t.
Even though she watched his sleeve carefully, she couldn’t see how or when he made the card disappear. “Amazing.”
Now she really felt gullible. Why didn’t she think to check for such tomfoolery? But then, she didn’t see Burke slip the card up his sleeve, so she certainly wouldn’t have detected it during a game. “I didn’t notice a thing.”
“No, you wouldn’t. The dealer does the dirty deed while you’re studying your cards. That’s why there were two one-spotted clovers. After he used it the first time, he slipped it up his sleeve to use later in the game.”
The same card suddenly appeared in his right hand. “And by the way, clovers are called ‘clubs’ and it’s an ‘ace’ if there’s only one spot. So that card is an ace of clubs.”
“May I see your lizard? I want to see what it looks like.”
“I don’t have one.” He grinned wide and handed her the ruby brooch that she’d put in her carpetbag. “Lizards are for amateurs. I’m a thoroughbred.” His tone wasn’t that of a braggart, merely factual.
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