Winning the Lady (Book 4 of the Red River Valley Brides)

by Hestand, Rita

  "Well, a woman as beautiful as you must get a lot of stares." He must have thought he was complimenting her.

  "I regret that there are too few women in the west," she mumbled almost to herself.

  This man upset her, and she did her best to not invite his conversation. She was tired and incapable of making small talk any longer. Not after what she'd seen back there. She felt a lump in her throat and held the tears back.

  She was a little flushed, and he had noticed.

  Gil offered her another drink, but as she turned the canteen up, she saw the man watching her.

  "Mr. Myers!" Gil's voice demanded the man's attention. "Let's try to make this trip as pleasant as possible, huh?"

  The man reddened. "Y-yes, of course." He tried to smile.

  "My wife is a beautiful woman, but she does not care to be ogled. And I feel the same," Gil threatened.

  Tension ripped through the stagecoach as Myers glared at him. "I assure you I meant no harm."

  "Then perhaps you should take in the scenery, instead." Gil motioned out the window.

  "Oh yes…yes…"

  Mr. Fleming moved to lean against the corner of the bench as his eyes closed.

  The day was becoming sweltering, and only the breeze as they traveled cooled them down.

  Trish couldn't help it. The monotony of riding in a cooped up stage had her head nodding. Before she knew it, she was falling asleep in Gil's arms.

  ~*~

  "How long have you been married?" Mr. Myers asked Gil.

  "Not long." Gil wrapped his arm around her, so as to steady the jolts from the ride.

  "You are newlyweds, then?" He smiled.

  "You could say that." Gil frowned.

  It was late in the evening when they arrived. The two men got out and went on their way, giving Trish one last look. Gil watched them with a sharp eye. He didn't like them.

  Trish was still asleep in his arms when they pulled into town. Few lights were on around the town. He nuzzled her, and she slowly woke.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. We're here?" she asked.

  "It was a long ride, wasn't it?" he murmured near her ear.

  "Yes, I'm sorry." She sat up and looked into his eyes. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just stared at one another.

  "We better see if they have our reservations," he whispered.

  "Yes, yes, of course." She started to open the door.

  "Rest easy. I'll get it." He leaned to stay her hand.

  She inhaled.

  He got out, opened the door for her, and took her into his arms. In midair, he stared at her once more. There were no words, but none were needed. Time seemed to stand still for a minute, as Gil tried to decide whether to kiss her or stand her upright.

  Gil finally put her down, finding his hands resting just under her breast.

  He removed them at once, but he heard her intake of breath and saw the slight flush on her face.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice raspy.

  "A little…" she murmured.

  "Maybe we can find something."

  "It's late, we'll be lucky if we do…" She obviously didn't realize how breathless she sounded.

  They went inside the hotel, and Gil carried their luggage. He set it down at the desk and inquired about their rooms.

  "I'm sorry. We got a Cattlemen's meeting this week, so the hotel has been booked up, but we have one room available, if that will do for now," the desk clerk said.

  Gil tempered his anger. "I guess it will do. This is the best hotel in Ft. Worth, is it not?"

  "Oh, yes, sir. We have private baths and luxurious rooms. They are big enough for parties even."

  "We made reservations for two rooms, though," Gil insisted.

  "Yes, sir, but as I just explained, the hotel is full up this week. I'm afraid all I can offer is one," the little man with a big mustache repeated adamantly.

  Trish leaned against the desk. She put her arm on Gil's and nodded. "It's okay."

  Gil stared at her for a long moment. "Very well," he said, not bothering to look at the clerk.

  The clerk had a bellboy take their bags, and Gil guided her up the stairs.

  The large room offered a huge bed and a settee. Gil grimaced. Would he have to sleep on that while they were here?

  Trish eyed it too.

  He tipped the bellboy, and the man walked out of their room.

  ~*~

  "I guess I can sleep on that." Gil frowned.

  She snickered. "Don't be silly. I'll sleep there. You are too tall. Your feet would drag the floor."

  "No. No, you are the lady. You can take the bed," he argued.

  "Gil, I can make it comfortable for me. You can't. I'll sleep there." She put her hand on his arm.

  He glanced at her arm then looked into her eyes. "Those men were right. It's hard not to stare at you."

  She nearly swooned at the way he kept looking at her and swallowed hard.

  He shook his head. "It doesn't seem right."

  She shrugged. "It's okay. You tried, and the desk clerk can't help being sold out, can he? After all, this is a cow town."

  "N-no, I guess not."

  "Good. You get some sleep, and you can get up in the morning and check things out," she said matter-of-factly. They had been managing the sleeping arrangements so well this didn't present a problem for her.

  "I'm going downstairs and see if I can rustle up a couple of sandwiches," he said lowly.

  She couldn't help but stare. He was tired too, and it showed. She couldn't help but wonder if it was from the rough ride in the stagecoach or the horrible massacre they had witnessed that made him look so worn out. She moved toward him, and he headed for the door. "I'll be back…" He closed the door between them.

  In less than an hour, he returned with a tray full of food.

  While he was gone she made her bed on the settee and changed into a baby blue night gown. He couldn't take his eyes from it, from her.

  "I got us something to eat from the kitchen."

  "Looks great." She made a makeshift table for them and realized he would have to sit on her bed to eat.

  "It should. I made them. The cook had gone home. The clerk said I could have whatever I found in the cooler, so I took as much beef as I thought we could handle." He slowly sat beside her.

  "I'm starved. Anything would look good to me now." She chuckled.

  When they were finished, she cleaned up a bit and set the tin plates on the dresser.

  "I'm wide awake now." She sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't have eaten."

  He groaned. "I'm full and sleepy."

  She smiled at him. "Go on. Get ready for bed. I won't look," she promised.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  "I promise." She giggled.

  He still looked unsure. "Don't you trust me?" She narrowed her gaze.

  As though that question deserved his attention, he turned around and grabbed her arms. "Yes I do."

  She smiled and moved away.

  Chapter Seven

  But as they both lay down to sleep, Trish wondered about this man, a man she had come to almost trust with her life.

  "Gil… tell me about yourself," she whispered in the darkness. "I mean, we're sort of like partners, yet I don't know much about you. We're on the go so much, there's never much time to talk. I'd really like to know more."

  Gil groaned and put his head in the pillow. "You aren't sleepy?"

  "No. Please, tell me."

  "What do you want to know?" He turned on his back and rested easily.

  "Everything," she whispered.

  "Can you stay awake that long?"

  "Yes. I can."

  "Well, let's see. I've never told my story to anyone. Never found anyone interested enough to listen." He chuckled softly.

  "I'm listening."

  "Okay. I'm the second son of a farmer and his wife. A farmer who worked hard and got nowhere, but he was honest and good. He tried to teach me right. But because we were so p
oor, I determined at a young age I wouldn't be a farmer," Gil said lowly. "I didn't aim to follow in his footsteps and that didn't sit too well with him, either. He thought farming was next to God, I think. He preached to me every day about doing the good work, honest work."

  "How old were you when you left home?"

  "I was sixteen."

  "So was I." She raised up but saw him relaxing and laid back down.

  "That's young to leave for a girl. Without parental support, how did you make it?"

  She frowned into the night. Should she tell him, or had he already guessed? The one thing their relationship was based on was honesty, so she decided to confide in him.

  "I guess you'd find out sooner or later. I became a saloon girl," she whispered.

  It got very quiet for a moment.

  "I'd have never guessed. There's bound to be a story in that," he whispered. "Why did you leave home?"

  This admission wasn't as easy. She swallowed hard.

  "Why?" he persisted.

  The silence stretched before she got up the nerve to tell him. "Suffice it to say, my father realized I was growing up…" she said, not wanting to go on.

  He cursed beneath his breath and sat up in the bed.

  She shrugged, not daring to look at him now. "So I left. My mother wouldn't stand up to him. I had no choice. I wouldn't let him… It's funny, but the very thing I ran from, I ran into."

  He obviously heard the crack in her voice, and he wrapped himself in the sheet and came to sit beside her.

  "I'm sorry. I wish I'd known you then…" he whispered.

  "No, you don't. I was bitter, hard to get along with. And I resented not being able to find a decent job. I'd lost all hope of trusting a man any longer. I got scared. It's hard to survive without trusting someone in your life. So I ran. I didn't care at the time what I was running into. I just knew I had to get away from all of them. They were heathens. I've never gone back, and I never will…"

  He took her into his arms and held her, his lips brushing into her hair.

  Realizing that he wasn't dressed and that he held her in his arms, she moved away from him. Besides, she didn't want his pity. Her story wasn't that different from any other dance hall girl. It always started at home.

  "Thank you for telling me. It helps me know you better," he whispered.

  "You better get some sleep."

  "Yeah, I guess I better." He moved away.

  Once he was back in bed, she smiled into the pillow. He hadn't touched her, and at that time, she was glad, even though a small part of her wanted him to. It built a trust she had never known before. He had every opportunity to take her to his bed, and he hadn't. She was grateful. Yet still skeptical, too.

  "So… finish your story…" she encouraged as she heard the bed creak and knew he was resting once more.

  He propped himself on one elbow. "It's not very interesting. I did odd jobs for a long time. Worked in a mill for a while. Even did a little store clerking, but found out it didn't pay much. I was right back where I started from, so when this professional gambler came to town, I took notice. I'd never met one before. When I saw the pots he'd won, and how easy, I began to watch him. I studied his methods and he taught me a lot. Then I caught a riverboat on the Mississippi and began my career as a gambler. I've been lucky, I guess."

  "It amazes me how easily life comes to some."

  "Women don't have as many options as men."

  "I've seen a lot of tin-horn gamblers before but very few professional ones. I guess I never respected them."

  "It's understandable. Not many can do it for a living," he replied.

  "It seems to come so natural for you."

  "Like I said, I've been lucky."

  "I haven't… until now." She glanced at him. He was staring at her through the darkness. Not like the men on the stage stared at her, but with compassion.

  "Maybe so," he whispered.

  She lay down now and slept like a baby.

  Sharing seemed to build a bond between them. He didn't condemn her for being what she was. He didn't try to take advantage of her, because he knew. And the feelings the confession stirred scared her a little.

  The next morning, he took her to breakfast and they looked about the town.

  Lots of cattlemen coming through made Ft. Worth come alive with people, unlike small communities where only a handful of people milled the streets. Here they shopped at the windows. There was business everywhere. The town thrived. Not everyone knew everyone here, for there were more just too many of them to keep up, but most were friendly.

  Walking down the boardwalk of the main streets, Gil informed her that it meant there would be a lot of poker games to come.

  "Looks like we came to the right town, doesn't it?" She smiled at him.

  He nodded, but since their confessions, his attitude had change. Not that he wasn't pleasant and accommodating, but he kept himself away from her more now. Perhaps it was for the best. They had a business arrangement.

  Maybe she had confessed too much. Perhaps he didn't like being with a saloon girl. She could understand that. Respect it even. He could be rethinking their relationship.

  It worried her.

  Although it had helped to build trust, it played a part in how he looked at her too. Before she didn't care about what he thought. Now that had changed.

  She could feel the tension in him growing. The same tension grew inside her, but for a different reason.

  She liked Gil. A lot. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she knew she had to be very careful around him. She could lose much more, her heart.

  She couldn't trust him because he could destroy her with a look. His magnetism was too powerful.

  She had to keep her spirit, her independence. Without them, she'd be lost.

  That evening, he got in a big game and the betting was high stakes. Gil was an impeccable gambler, always playing it straight.

  One night a young cowboy came up to the tables.

  "I'm right good at this game, can I sit in with you fellas?" He pulled out a chair.

  "You just come up with a herd, kid?" One of the men at the table asked, looking him over.

  "Sure did. Got some money on me too." He started digging a wad of money out of his pants pocket and laying it on the table for all to see.

  He had plopped himself in the chair next to Trish. He looked at her and smiled. "Ma'am. Mind if I sit next to you?"

  "Not at all." Trish moved her skirt to allow him room.

  Gil didn't seem to like him, but this wasn't his regular territory and he waited on the others to approve or disprove this young man. This particular game had a lot of the regulars pitching their cards in early, but Gil rode it out. Trish glanced around, then got up and stood behind him. He had three aces. The cowboy was all smiles. Gil raised him, and the cowboy shoved his entire pay out in front of him.

  Gil knew from looking at the cowboy's face that he had something he was proud of. But three aces was too hard to throw away.

  Gil eyed him. "You sure you want to do that, son?"

  "I'm sure. You going to call or fold?"

  "I'll call." Gil said.

  "Kings and queens." He started to rake in the money.

  Gil put a finger on his arm. "Three aces."

  The crowd around them grew quiet.

  "I don't believe it. You've got to be cheating. That's your third straight win in a row. I say you are cheating."

  The boy's voice shook he was so nervous.

  Gil eyed the boy. "Now, son, I wouldn't be calling anyone a cheat here. Most everyone at this table is a seasoned poker player. We don't have to cheat. We are all that good."

  Everyone nodded.

  "And I say you're lyin'." The young man stood, scraping the floor with his chair legs.

  The other men stood up and away.

  One of the older gentlemen shook his head and pulled Trish out of the line of fire. "He didn't cheat. I've watched him closely. He's just good, son, that
's all. Part of being a good poker player is knowin' the kind of man you are playing with."

  "I say he's cheating." The young man didn't wait for an answer. He whipped out his gun and fired.

  Gil was faster and shot him in his gun hand.

  The cowboy cried out. "Damn you. Damn you all to hell." He cried and ran out the door of the saloon.

  "Never could understand why a sore loser even bothers to play." One of the older men shook his head. "That was mighty good shootin', Gil."

  Trish let out a long breath as the boy left, and glanced around the room at everyone. No one believed Gil cheated. And hitting the kid in the gun hand would probably one day save his life, as he was much too hot headed for his own good. Trish tried to move forward toward Gil, but her legs wouldn't carry her. She had seen how swift Gil was with the gun, and how he didn't advertise the fact. Respect was what she felt. And relief.

  Trish was stunned by the violence that had erupted so quickly. She had moved away from the table when they stood up. But the older gentleman had helped her stay away from Gil and the cowboy. She knew it was going to end in gun play. She didn't know how to stop it. Or whether she should even try. Instead, she had been a witness, a bystander and she whole body shook with such the relief.

  Gil raked his money in. "Gentlemen, I think I'll call it a night."

  The other men nodded, and the game broke up.

  Trish waited to see where Gil was going, but he headed for their room. When he got there, she touched his arm. "I thought he hit you."

  "He did." Gil groaned as he grabbed her other arm.

  "Oh, God, why didn't you say something?" She babbled as supported him as he slumped against the bed.

  "Didn't want to scare the cowboy. He was having a bad night. He's young and he'll have to learn to lose if he ever wants to win, but I didn't want him to know he shot me. It would have given him too much satisfaction. I really did want to play with him. I've seen his kind before. But it wasn't my call."

  "Oh, Gil." She pulled him into her arms.

  He nearly collapsed.

  "I'll go get a doctor." She helped him sit down. His face was pale, but she could tell he didn't want her sympathy.

  He nodded.