Thaddeus drew in a deep breath and focused on the cardboard in his hand.
“Fold,” Mr. Wilson called out sighing, then looked to Faith, “My dear, you will have to rotate on the next hand and sit beside me.”
Faith smiled and sat back to watch the two young men complete the hand. It was unfortunate that the Major ended up winning.
As the night wore on, the pot mounted, and tempers grew shorter. With each succeeding round, Faith did her best to shower her attentions on each man by moving her seat between the gentlemen. Finally, she had advanced to complete the circle ending between Miss Benedict and young Mr. Oakley.
“Howard, your bet,” Miss Benedict spoke.
“I believe I will hold, but it will cost you a bit extra to stay in the game,” he replied looking at his cards once before closing the hand and laying them face down upon the table. Pursing his lips, Howard looked at his chips then he dropped in a hundred dollar marker, before crushing his cigar in the ashtray.
“Major?”
The army officer brushed away the fine sheen of perspiration dotting his brow. Faith wondered if he was bluffing. He seemed to weigh the moment before dropping another fifty into the pot to match the bet.
“Mr. Wilson?”
“In for penny, in for pound they say.” He put his cards down and placed his wager.
“Mr. Oakley?”
Faith felt her mouth go dry. From her vantage point she could see his hand, four nines, but the last card lay hidden, out of sight. He reached forward, picking up a chip then paused running the wooden token through his fingers as a child would a penny. She held her breath. This was one of the larger hands, if he lost, the Major and Mr. Wilson would be two higher scorers in the game. Twisting on the chair, she felt the lace beneath rub against her skin. The friction enhanced her senses. It was both a delight and an irritation. She picked up her fan and brushed the air from her heated skin.
“I call,” his voice issued the challenge.
Oakley lifted his fingers, dropping the coin in and then repeated until the bet had been equaled. She gave a sigh of relief. His hand dropped to her knee and squeezed. In an instant, her body responded. Nerves tingled, if only he could win, then it would be his hands between her legs teasing the bud that would be her undoing. Faith picked up her fan stroked the air, then closed the instrument, and laid it against the top of her breast, next to her heart.
Miss Benedict caught the movement of Faith’s hands. She placed the deck on the table and folded her hands across. “All right the bets have been made and called, Gentlemen show your cards.”
Faith watched as each man spread the five cards across the table before them. No one had an outstanding hand. The closest was Mr. Wilson with a pair of fours. All eyes were now upon Mr. Oakley. In slow motion, he laid down his cards one by one. The men stared in disbelief as he produced the four nines.
“Good hand, four of a kind.” Howard spoke in admiration of his young protégé, “Your last card?”
Thaddeus lay down his ace in a coupe de grace.
“Ace high,” Miss Benedict smiled and visibly relaxed. “The pot goes to Mr. Oakley.”
“Son of a...” Major Abrams began. But a look from Miss Benedict quieted his tirade. With a snort, the army officer kicked back his chair and stood his anger evident to all.
“Whose cards,” he hissed through his teeth.
“The cards, in question, belong to the house, Major.”
Miss Benedict’s voice was soft yet it held a note of finality.
With measured defiance, Thaddeus looked up. “I hope Major even a Yankee like yourself would not stoop to accuse a lady of cheating.”
Major Abrams moved from the table and took three steps toward the wall. He inhaled and ran a hand across the back of his head, then turning, spoke. “My pardon, but I request a new deck.”
“As you wish,” Miss Benedict gave a nod, “Faith.”
Rising from her seat, she moved to get the cards.
“Here now, it’s just a card game.” Mr. Wilson chided.
“Perhaps, we need a break,” Miss Benedict announced as Faith handed her the cards. “I need to freshen and I’m sure Miss Faith does likewise.”
The men, still seated at the table, rose. Howard pulling Miss Benedict’s chair out for her in a chivalrous gesture.
“Thank you.” She paused to gaze around the room. “Gentlemen the hour grows late, it’s now eleven. I am going to ask Big John to count the chips and when we return, one hand will be played for the honor of Miss Faith’s company and the prospect of becoming her sponsor. I hope you will all take a moment to gather your wits and return ready to play.”
Faith watched as Miss Benedict’s frank stare caught each face in the room. She pulled her fan across her waist and waved it open. Then a glance in her direction, Faith saw the outstretched hand and they moved from the room.
Chapter Six
In the safety of the salon, Miss Benedict spoke, “Come,” her tone hushed against the clink of glasses and discreet laughter. “I need to speak with you.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Faith moved behind her. What had she done wrong? Her skirt swished as the two women made their way into the kitchen area. No sooner had the door swung shut, then Miss Benedict turned and confronted Faith.
“This is your moment to speak your mind. If what I am asking you goes against your good conscience, you need to let me know now. ”
Faith whispered, “The pot is very large.”
“Six thousand, the pot total is six thousand.” Her hand fluttered her fan as she moved, “even when Diamond Jim Brady played in Chicago, it wasn’t this large.” Taking a deep breath, she adjusted the fabric on her shoulders, then moved back to pick up Faith’s hands.
In her eyes, Faith could see the astonishment.
“None of my girls has ever, ever raised so much.”
Faith felt Miss Benedict search her face. She knew what she was asking. Could she go through with it? Dampening her lips she spoke, “I know that tonight who ever is the winner, he can ask me to be exclusive.”
“Including the Major? I must ask for I saw your signal in regards to Mr. Oakley.”
Faith paused. Just saying his name, Major Abrams, left a sour taste in her mouth. The man gave the impression of being a fine officer but she knew him to be rougher around the edges. Did she have the courage to allow him the right to her services at his whim?
Seeing her struggle, Miss Benedict gave a weak smile. “While the money will pay for our expenses, if the man chooses you as his paramour he will be expected to set you up with a monthly expense account. For this, each and every time he comes to town, you are to go. If he calls for you, then you must drop everything and go. As the winner, he is entitled to you with exclusive rights to your body as well as your soul, until he decides to relinquish his sponsorship. Do you understand this? You realize this is not just entertaining a gentleman for the evening and saying goodbye? Are you prepared, Faith, to uphold your end of the bargain?”
Faith felt the world settle upon her shoulders. Should Oakley lose, it would be the Major that would claim her night after night. She turned away and searched her heart. Somewhere deep within her a voice urged her to accept fate. This time it would be kind. She nodded her assent.
She would do this for Miss Benedict. She and the Academy had given her so much. Should the Major win, she would steel herself to endure his touch. Above all, it would give her the means to set herself as the mistress of her own fate.
“Are you positive?” Miss Benedict asked yet again.
With slow movements, Faith nodded. Over the years of the war she had endured much, what would be one more year. “Yes, I can do this.”
Miss Benedict turned away.
The pause seemed painful. Faith leaned to touch her shoulder. “Miss Benedict?”
“When I was a young girl, perhaps a few years older than you, I was the petal in the middle. My benefactress was not a pleasant person.” Her reached out a
nd took both of Faith’s hands between hers. “The gentleman that won the pot was not gentle, nor did he look at me as anything more than something to take.” She took a breath.
“This wasn’t Mr. Stetson?”
Miss Benedict smiled, “No, Howard saved and protected me, becoming my second and last paramour.” She took a deep breath, “I will not let this happen to you. There are some things you should know about the possible winners. Major Abrams maybe a staunch supporter of our government, but he is not the man I would choose for you.”
A weight seem to lift from Faith’s shoulders. Miss Benedict understood.
“I will do all in my power to see that either Mr. Wilson or Mr. Oakley is the high bidder. The cards can not be manipulated. If it is the Major, I will give you the option of asking for a single card flip or turning down his offer of sponsor.”
Faith watched as Miss Benedict looked longingly at her, and then touched her cheek. “You are very special, Faith. My girls are like the children I never had. I will not have you abused.”
“I’m willing. I have been schooled and with enough men to make it worth their while.” Faith replied. “Please, Miss Benedict, I am ready to do this.” Tears glistened in her eyes as she spoke, recalling the gentle tutoring and hours Miss Benedict had given for each girl. Faith realized this was a graduation of sorts. There wasn’t a diploma. Instead, when she completed her sojourn, Faith knew she would be allowed to return or begin a different life with the money placed in her account.
“Well, it is decided, if you are truly willing, go and relieve yourself. The next hand will tell the truth.”
Faith hurried up the stairs to her room. After a quick stop to the water closet, she wanted to refresh the lip rouge and wipe a finger of perfume around the globe of her lamp. Standing at the door, she could see that Nanny had already turned back the satin covers and lowered the lights. Yes, all was in readiness.
Her hand fluttered to her abdomen and she took a deep breath. Gazing across at the reflection in the mirror she could see the sparkle in her eye and the blush on her cheek from the chase. Somehow, deep down, she felt it would be Mr. Oakley.
Closing her eyes she thought about him, stretched across her bed, his hand behind his head propped up against her pillows, with a smile of longing on his face. A beam of confidence turned her beauty to radiance, Faith hurried downstairs
Thaddeus Oakley hooked the heel of his boot into the rail at the bar and motioned for a beer. He was nervous. It was one thing to play cards on Saturday night with the men on the railroad. And it was another thing to play in a high stakes poker game for a woman’s affections. He shifted his feet and looked down into his drink.
He wanted her.
There was something about Faith which burned itself into his brain from the moment he saw her. Even worse for now that he had tasted her. Damn that dress, it teased and gave hint to what wonders lay beneath, making a man want more. Grabbing the handle to the mug, he lifted, tossing a good swig into his mouth.
Think of something else.
If only he could. Even now he was afraid it was obvious to anyone gazing at him, his libido was straining to get out. He swallowed, blowing out a pent up breath of frustration.
Damn that inflated Blue Belly and his cocksure comments.
Out of instinct, Thaddeus rolled his fingers into a fist. Oh, how he long to slam his hand into the pretty Major’s face. Lifting his glass, he seemed intent on drowning his sorrows when a hand fell to his shoulders. Looking up he could see Howard Stetson’s concerned gaze.
“Thaddeus? Is this what you do to get a clear head?”
He swallowed and turned his face back to the bar studying the glasses along the wall.
When he didn’t respond, Stetson relaxed his frame beside him and asked, “Want to tell me about it?”
“I want her.”
Thaddeus spoke the words with out regret. He knew Stetson would understand who he was referring to.
“Whiskey,” Howard motioned to the bartender. Once the drink was deposited before him he took a sip. “Opal always has the best.” With a sigh he put the shot glass down, folded his arms, and looked to his young friend. “Faith is a beautiful woman, but she is not your typical lady of the evening.”
Thaddeus turned his head to stare at his mentor. “That seems a harsh term, lady of the evening. Don’t the European’s have another word?”
“I believe its courtesan.” He toyed with his glass. “You have to know they are not the type found in your local saloons,” Howard explained. “Opal’s girls are some of the finest in the world. Don’t have to worry about any disease or pox. They’re clean and kept that way.”
“So what do I have to worry about,” Thaddeus asked, turning to his right he faced his friend, hooking his fingers in the belt loop on his hip.
Howard stared at the bottles lining the back wall. “I’d say you’d better worry about that Major getting under your skin.”
Not wanting to acknowledge the truth, he picked up his mug staring into the amber liquid. But his jaw betrayed the underlying anger.
“He bluffs,” Stetson continued. “When he doesn’t have the cards, he bluffs by refusing to look you in the eye.”
The words burned deep into Thaddeus’s brain.
“Right now, he is behind Wilson. You’ve beaten him before by betting high. What’s your roll like?”
“I’ve got about five hundred in chips and few hundred more in my wallet,” Thaddeus replied, not wanting to tell the man that was all he had left between him and starvation.
Howard looked to the barkeep. “One more my friend,” he held up the glass. Pushing himself away from the bar, Stetson lifted his vest away from his chest, pulling out his own wallet.
Thaddeus’s hand gripped Stetson’s forearm. “I’m not asking for money.”
“I didn’t hear you,” he spoke, counting out six more crisp hundred dollar notes. “But I would pay a month’s salary to see you in her arms and not that damn Yankee.” He thrust the money into the young man’s breast pocket. “I’m going to give you my chips when we get into the room. Let’s say it’s payback from the war.”
Thaddeus’s mouth went dry. He watched as his friend shot back the whiskey.
“Get some air, son. Think your plan through with a clear head. I’ll send Wilson to get you when we’re ready to play.”
Pushing the second half of his beer away, Thaddeus Oakley heeded his employer’s advice and moved toward the doorway.
Chapter Seven
Outside, the air snapped with a hint of frost, no matter the May calendar date, he unbuttoned the neckline of his shirt allowing the cool air to run its fingers around the nape of his neck, chilling his skin. Moving to the rail, Thaddeus leaned forward, drinking in the freshness, letting it clear the cobwebs from his brain.
“She’s a rather nice chit.” A male voice spoke.
Turning, he watched as Major Abrams moved out of the shadows along the side of the porch to the lantern light near the front door. Thaddeus turned away. He didn’t fancy fisticuffs before the final hand to muddy his mind.
“I’ve had at her before,” Abrams spoke again. “She’s tight and can work it till it feels like heaven.”
The callous words caused anger to rush through his veins.
“Cost me two hundred last time.” Abrams examined the bottom of his glass. “Cost has now gone up. She’ll have to do a bit more for my money than yank it.”
Thank God, the darkness masked the fury in Thaddeus’ face. Breathing in and out in a slow motion his only tell tale sign of loss of control. He heard the man’s footsteps as he stepped closer to the rail.
“What makes you think you’ll be the winner,” Oakley asked.
The Major chuckled. “Tell me something, boy, how many times have you played cards?”
The word “boy” rubbed rough against his skin. Thaddeus clenched the rail to keep his hands busy. “I’ve played.”
“Only Saturday nights, I’d wager,” Abrams
continued. “I’ve played with the best,” he bragged. “From Generals to the lowly enlisted men.”
In the distance, Thaddeus could hear Abrams’ deep draw on the cheroot he held tight in his teeth.
“Oh, I’ll win. Make no mistake about it. When I do, I’m gonna drill her deep and often. Yes, sir when I leave her bed she won’t walk for a week.”
The pictures racing through Thaddeus’s mind were the vilest of nature. He gritted his teeth, speaking. “I hear Miss Benedict’s ladies are just that, ladies.”
A blue cloud formed in the night air as he blew out the smoke. “They’re all whores, man.” Abrams spit. “By God, don’t place them up on a pedestal like God-Fearing women. They are like a dog begging for a bone and I’ve got a nice long one to bury in her sweet ass.”
With a growl, Thaddeus grabbed the heavy blue cloth of Abrams’ uniform. With his face inches from the Major’s, he spoke through clenched teeth, “Listen to me good. You and I are gonna play cards for Faith, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to come out on top.” Releasing his grip, he watched Abrams stagger back and off balance. “No way,” his lips curled in a sneer as his finger jabbed like a spear against the cold air.
As he pushed past, his shoulder shoving against the Major’s chest and he felt satisfaction. Abrams didn’t say a word until his hand hit the door.
“You’re a damn fool, but then you Southerners always were on the loosing side,” Abrams voice drifted to his ear. “What you’re feeling is lust. Don’t mistake it for love.”
Thaddeus’s hand paused.
“You won’t be her first or her only. To her, you’re a job, a trick, a poke in the hay. She makes her money horizontally, boy. She’s not looking for forever.”
Refreshed, Faith stepped back into the salon. Miss Benedict and her gentleman stood quietly at the bar, talking. Squaring her shoulders, she moved toward them. Mr. Stetson saw her first, his smile alerting Miss Benedict who turned.
“Ah, my dear, you’re ready?”
Faith opened her mouth to reply when the front door burst open and two figures slammed into the light. Major Abrams and Thaddeus Oakley roared through the opening, fists raised, and crashed onto the nearest table. Alerted by Patience’s frightened scream and Big John’s shouts, both Miss Benedict and Mr. Stetson hurried into the fray to separate the combatants while Faith watched, her hands clutching the edge of the bar.
Sweetbrier Academy:Having Faith Page 5
