Gambling on the Outlaw

by Margaret Madigan

  I snorted. “You’re accusing her of cheating? You’re the biggest liar at this table.”

  Dearborn pointed a finger at me, meant to intimidate. “Keep your filthy mouth shut, outlaw.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Dearborn shot out of his chair, and I stood just as fast. We both reached for our guns, only to grab empty air.

  Beth stood between us. “Jesus, boys. Calm down. Sit.” We all took our seats again, and to Dearborn she said, “I won fair and square.”

  “Then he cheated,” Dearborn said cocking his head to indicate Devol. “He dealt you a winning hand.”

  “Careful who you call a cheat, Dearborn,” Devol said, a sharp edge in his voice.

  “Or what?” Dearborn challenged him.

  “I’ve won a bullet here and it could very well have your name on it.”

  Dearborn flicked a malicious glance my way, then focused on Devol. “He’s already tried to kill me, but couldn’t pull it off. I’m not too worried about any of his bullets.”

  Devol just gave him a one-shouldered shrug, dismissing him, but not withdrawing the threat. I was itching to fulfill it.

  “The point is, I don’t need anyone to cheat for me, Clay,” Beth said. “I’m just a better player than you.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve played like an amateur all night. You just had a lucky hand. We play another, you’ll see.”

  “Why should I?” Beth taunted. “I’ve got Isaac’s freedom and a bunch of your land, why would I keep playing?”

  “Actually, Dawson still holds Collins’s freedom, too,” Devol said.

  All eyes went to Devol. “How do you figure that?” Beth asked.

  “Well, Dearborn may be able to cut Collins loose, set him free, and make some excuse that he escaped. But Dawson’s the one who holds the real freedom. He can exonerate Collins of the crime altogether.”

  “Clay could do that, too,” Beth said.

  “Not without confessing to the crime,” I said.

  “Dawson wears the badge. He’s the law, so his word has more value. Collins doesn’t have his freedom until he’s won it from Dawson,” Devol said.

  “Goddammit,” I said. If we didn’t get the issue of my freedom resolved in the next hand, I’d have to figure another plan.

  Beth’s lips firmed into a thin line. “Fine. Gil, it’s your deal. Everybody ante up—and Gil, you will be putting Isaac’s freedom in the pot.”

  She brooked no discussion of the subject, so Gil just nodded. I anted up a couple more bullets.

  “I’ll ante the rest of the gold mine,” Beth said. She was playing big stakes. By the look on Dearborn’s face, she didn’t need to ante big. He was determined to win no matter what. I didn’t think he liked being beat by a woman, especially Beth.

  “Five thousand dollars,” Clay said.

  Devol grinned. “I’m in. Five thousand.”

  Dawson dealt and everyone looked at their cards. I held four spades and an eight of hearts—and I had to bet first. If I could draw another spade, I’d have a decent hand. But I didn’t have much else to bet with except more bullets.

  “Two more bullets,” I said.

  “I’ll put marriage back in the pot,” Beth said.

  Dearborn’s eyes narrowed as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her betting that. “Five thousand,” he said, his voice slow and doubtful.

  “Five thousand,” Devol said.

  I gave up one card and drew one more—an ace of spades, giving me a flush. I couldn’t believe my luck. And I knew it was pure luck since Dawson wasn’t good enough, or inclined, to cheat for me.

  Everyone else discarded and received more cards, then it was my turn to bet again. A flush was a good hand, maybe good enough to win, but not good enough to guarantee a win. If there was ever a time to bluff, now was it. The two things I wanted to win most were in the pot.

  “I’m all in,” I said.

  Surprise registered on Devol’s face, and then he glanced down at his cards and smiled.

  “And what does ‘all in’ mean for you?” Dearborn asked, his voice a sneer.

  “All the cash I’ve got left and two full six-shot revolvers.”

  Dawson whistled. “Impressive.”

  “Call,” Beth said.

  “You’re going all in?” Dearborn asked, incredulous. “That means everything you own. All your land, the whole gold mine, your hand in marriage, the money you’ve won. Everything.”

  “Yes, Clay. I know what ‘all in’ means, and I’m all in. Are you?”

  For the first time since I’d known him, Dearborn was at a loss for words. He looked unsure. That one moment was a balm, and added to my confidence. Then he considered his cards again and his face hardened.

  “I’m all in,” he growled.

  “Just to be clear, for the reverend’s recordkeeping, and so we all know,” Beth said, “All in means your entire ranch, and whatever cash and other items you’ve won in the game. Everything.”

  His face flushed red and he scowled at her. “Yes.”

  “Too rich for my blood. I fold,” Devol said.

  “Fold,” Gil threw his cards in as if they were afire and burning his fingers.

  “All right, you three. You’ve got nothing left to bet,” Devol said. “Let’s see your hands.”

  We each laid our cards down and it took a few seconds to register: Beth held two pair—kings over jacks, so she’d been bluffing. My stomach knotted that she’d go all in on two pair. It meant she had to trust me to win, because I can’t imagine she’d risk everything if she thought Dearborn would win. His cards were a mixed-suit straight—nine to king.

  My flush beat his straight.

  The fact that I’d won everything clicked in my head at about the same time it hit everyone else, including Dearborn.

  He lunged at me, shoving Beth backward in his rage to get at me. Her chair slammed backward, and after that all I saw was Dearborn. He reached for my throat and his momentum sent us both flying backward to the floor. I threw an elbow up to keep his hands off my throat, and connected with his chin, jerking his teeth shut with a loud clack and thrusting his head back. The chair shattered under me, and I scrambled to get better vantage. But he was on me too fast, fueled by rage. He came back, landing a punch that made my head ring. I got in a couple of good blows, but he maneuvered so he straddled me and hit me with a frenzy of punches.

  “I’ll kill you,” he growled. I had my arms up to block his blows, but he was crazed and a lot of what he threw got past. I felt my nose crack, and a couple of swings made the lights dim a bit.

  “That all you got?” I said.

  The punches stopped, and I felt him shift a bit. I moved my arms enough to see a flash of steel, then heard Beth scream.

  Dearborn’s blade slashed down at my face, but I bucked, and as I rolled out from under him I caught a glimpse of Beth throwing herself on his back and wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. Dearborn’s blade skittered off the hard wood of the floor, missing my face by inches.

  Before I’d even finished rolling away, I reached for my boot where I’d hidden one of the revolvers I’d stolen from the sheriff’s office. I had it out, cocked, and leveled at Dearborn as I came up into a squat.

  “Let her go,” I said.

  I had to give it to him, he was fast. In the time it had taken me to get away from him, he’d swung Beth off his back and onto the floor. His free hand was bunched in the front of her dress, holding her tight while he put the knife to her throat. The sight stole my breath away, but a closer look at Beth showed she looked more likely to claw Dearborn’s eyes out than faint.

  I heard Dawson’s chair scrape the floor. “Put the gun down, Collins.”

  I didn’t take my eyes off Dearborn. “You’re not armed, Sheriff.”

  “You willing to bet on that?”

  “I’m done betting for the day. Even if you are armed, I’ll take Dearborn before you take me. Might even get you, too.”

  “You can’t get me
before I kill her, though,” Dearborn said.

  Dearborn raised his knife arm, ready to plunge it into Beth’s neck, and I pulled the trigger. At the same time he yanked her up off the floor in front of his head. My bullet flew a fraction of an inch wide, just missing Beth.

  I threw myself to the left so I slid sideways on my back, and pulled the trigger again, taking advantage of the wide-open side of his head. This time my bullet hit home and after a satisfying look of surprise on his face as his brain registered defeat just before dying, he collapsed in a dead pile.

  Shaw and Summers burst through the door at the sounds of shots being fired. I had my gun aimed at Dawson before Dearborn was all the way down. He did have a gun, but everything had moved so fast he hadn’t been able to get a good shot, and now I had him in my sights.

  “My fight isn’t with you, Sheriff.”

  “You just murdered Clay.”

  That helped Summers and Shaw sort out who to point their weapons at. As deputy, Summers aimed where the sheriff aimed—at me. Shaw aimed at Dawson. I ignored the extra guns in the room. They made no difference to what I did.

  “He saved my life,” Beth said, scooting away from Dearborn’s body and climbing up into a chair. “And defended himself. Clay would have killed us both.”

  “Put the gun down, Sheriff,” I said.

  “I owe you for my shoulder.”

  “How about I let you live and we’ll call it even?”

  My head pounded with the thrill of having killed. It was a fever that fed on itself, like an opium addict needing another hit. I’d wanted Dearborn dead for so long that now I’d done it, the heat of elation flooded me. That old greed came back—the need for more—until my vision was narrowed and clouded by a throbbing red haze.

  Then I thought of Beth; her strength, her love, her laugh, and all the excitement of killing Dearborn drained out of me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’d quit the business because I didn’t want to be a killer. I didn’t like the monstrous need that had taken me over. I took another breath and by the time I let it out, my heart had slowed some and the red had faded. Beth was all the excitement I needed.

  When I stood, I approached the table. Dawson still had his weapon trained on me. I uncocked mine and held both my hands up as a show of good faith. “Come on, Sheriff, put the gun down.”

  He frowned, and in that pause, I sensed his resentment and anger. Maybe it was Dearborn, maybe it was me, but he needed his pride back. So many men died grasping at pride.

  His frown disappeared as he cocked his gun, replaced by a grim, determined slash where his mouth used to be. In the time it took him to cock his gun, aim at me, and shoot, I’d dodged to the left, fanned the hammer, and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~Beth~

  If I were the sort of woman who fainted, I would have. As it was, I took a seat at the table and downed a couple of fingers of whiskey as dawn turned the sky pink. Silas and Avery hauled the rest of the bodies out to the porch, and Reverend Miller followed. Summers had gone back to town to deal with the aftermath, and cancel the hanging.

  I poured another drink.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I looked up to find Isaac standing next to me, chair in hand, an amused and haggard smile turning up one corner of his mouth.

  I gestured in general assent, then gulped my drink. Reaching for the bottle, I poured another and slid it toward him, then put the bottle to my lips and took a long pull.

  “I think you’ve had enough,” he said on a chuckle, pulling the bottle from my grip. “You haven’t eaten for a few hours, and it’s been a long night.”

  “You can say that again.”

  He was quiet for a moment, contemplating the shot glass in his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but dreaded the idea.

  “I’m sorry you had to see me that way tonight,” he said.

  “What way? You saved my life. Clay was rabid. Furious. He would have stabbed me to a pulp if you hadn’t killed him.”

  “I wasn’t much better than he was.”

  “You were.”

  “I wasn’t. I was the animal I used to be.”

  “I don’t know much about your past, Isaac, but I know the man you are now. You’re a good, principled, caring man. The fact that you didn’t hesitate to kill Clay or Gil doesn’t mean you’re an animal, or that you’re reverting back to the killer you used to be. You were defending yourself.”

  “I was defending you. Before I met you, I was lost. All I wanted was to kill Clay, and if I died, I didn’t care. You gave me something to care about again. You made me want to live.”

  I reached for him, my fingertips stroking the line of his jaw. “You make me happy to be alive,” I said, tracing his lips with my thumb, then leaned in and kissed him. It was gentle at first, then I pressed harder and he kissed me back—a fierce show of need and possession.

  I heard someone cough politely behind Isaac. We jumped apart and Isaac whirled around to face the person who’d dared sneak up on him. My hand flew to my chest to calm my crazed heartbeat.

  Silas grinned. “I was about to ask what’s next for you two, but I think I got the idea.”

  “Don’t be crude, Silas,” I said, but couldn’t help the grin that sprang to my lips.

  “Seems you’re a very rich man, now, Mr. Collins. And free.”

  “That’s the only thing I ever really wanted,” Isaac said, then looked back to me. “That and Beth. I don’t need the rest.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I sort through your winnings and…”

  “Now wait just a minute,” I said. “It’s nice you’re so magnanimous, Isaac, but I’m not. You can have everything back that you started with, Silas, plus another five thousand. That’ll cover what I owe you plus a little.”

  “It’s been two days, that means what you owed me doubled twice to twenty thousand.”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  He grinned. “I lost a man and I folded some good hands.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, six thousand, but that’s it.”

  It occurred to me for a moment, anyway, that despite his grin and easy manner, Silas was a cold man for dismissing Clem’s death so easily. On the other hand, Clem had chosen a dangerous profession, and had to know the consequences.

  He offered his hand, and I took it to shake, but he pulled me out of my chair and into a hug. “You certainly don’t disappoint, Beth. This has been one of the best evenings of cards I’ve had in a long time. I’m glad everything worked out for you.”

  “You mean you’re glad I didn’t die?”

  He laughed. “Yes. See you around.”

  He shook hands with Isaac, and then he and Avery headed for the door, but before they reached it, it flew open and the girls rushed in, followed by Reverend Miller.

  Daisy threw herself into my arms. “Beth. Thank God you’re alive.”

  I laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She stepped back and gave me a skeptical look. “We figured that between Clay, Isaac, Gil, and Summers, things could turn ugly. I tried to talk the girls into following Isaac out here, but they convinced me to wait. Said it was too dangerous.”

  “It was,” I said. “I’d never have forgiven myself if anything happened to my family.”

  “About an hour ago, we couldn’t hold her back any longer,” Lydia said, leaning in to claim a shy hug before stepping back and eyeing my dress. “That’s not your blood, is it?”

  “No. It’s Clay’s.”

  “We saw the dead out on the porch,” Nellie said. “Daisy was right to be worried about you.”

  “I’ll admit, it was frighteningly close,” I said. “But Isaac saved me.”

  “What?” Daisy gasped, her hand flying to her chest in a mocking gesture. “You mean, you allowed someone else to help you?”

  “I did.”

  “Good, so that means we can start helping you for a change,” Daisy said.

  “Ther
e will be plenty to help with between managing the ranch and the mine.”

  “What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

  “Isaac won it all in a poker game.”

  Daisy whistled. “Must have been a hell of a game.”

  “That it was,” Reverend Miller said.

  “Most important, though, you’re free,” I said, taking Isaac’s hand.

  Isaac’s face went white, and he glanced at Reverend Miller. “I killed the two men who could clear my name.”

  Miller smiled at him, and patted his shoulder. “I’ve got it all in the records of the game. Deputy Summers will be required to enact the conditions of the game as agreed by Sheriff Dawson. You’re a free man, son, no doubt about it.”

  Isaac relaxed, though I didn’t think he’d believe he was free until it was all said and done. I was sure, though.

  “You also own my land,” I said. “And you’ve earned my hand in marriage. Assuming you want it.”

  “I do,” he said, and I smiled at the pun. Then he knelt to one knee. “I don’t have a ring for you, but you have my heart—have had it since the first time I laid eyes on you. I love you, Beth Caldwell, more than anything. I should have told you sooner and more often. Will you be my wife?”

  “Of course. Yes,” I said, tears blurring my vision.

  “I can do something about that right now, if you’d like,” the reverend said.

  Isaac looked at me, the question in his eyes. I wanted to be his wife, to be married right then and there, but I didn’t want to be married in a dress splattered with Clay’s blood and I didn’t want my wedding day marred by the drama and bloodshed that had already happened.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Daisy said. “This is hardly the time or place.”

  Isaac stood and pulled me to him, holding me close. I buried my face in his chest, breathing in the comforting smell of him, knowing I’d have that scent, and him to myself for the rest of my life.

  “Daisy’s right,” Isaac said. “Reverend, you can do the honors, but I think we’ll wait until we can do it proper.”

  “Sounds like a reasonable plan,” he said. He placed the paper he’d kept during the game onto the table. “I signed this with Mr. Devol, Mr. Shaw, and Mr. Summers as witness. There shouldn’t be any contesting your winnings.”