The Filly & the Gambler (Book Fifteen of Brides of the West Series)

by Rita Hestand

  "You're taking this much too seriously."

  "Am I?" His head jerked about to stare into her eyes. "Lady," He turned her to look at her father now. "That old man wanted to make sure you were taken care of. I won't lie to you. Getting married was the last thing on my mind, ever. I don't need a wife. But—I've got one, whether I need one or not. And although I've been a bit of a rascal, and never truly considered marriage, I do take those vows seriously. As I don't intend doing it again. It was recorded in the books, and you are my wife. I know, I checked. As such, I got an obligation to you, if nothing else. I understand you want nothing personally to do with me, but for Harmon's sake I fully intend looking after you, for as long as I live. Just like I told him I would. I promised him, and I meant it. And if you knew me, you'd know that."

  She studied him a moment through the darkness, only the glow of the lamp lighting his face. He was terribly handsome, and strangely honest.

  "I know you mean that. Dad wouldn't have asked you if he hadn't known you'd keep your word. And I appreciate it, too. That's more than generous of you, but I've been taking care of myself for quite some time, without any help. So, you can rest easy."

  "Yes ma'am, you have, and I think old Harmon realized that there might come a day when you needed help. So, I'll be around." His eyes went the length of her, as though taking her in for the first time. Her hair was down her back now, hanging in little ringlets and it looked so lovely, his fingers itched to touch it. She was lovely, and she was his wife. A wife he couldn't claim. How ironic. All his life he'd taken any lady he desired, but this one wanted no part of him and made it clear.

  For a moment, he thought about kissing her again, remembering how sweet her lips tasted at the wedding, but he refrained.

  "Goodnight, Mrs. Martin." He smiled despite himself.

  "Goodbye, Mr. Martin." She whispered.

  He stared, blatantly now. "No ma'am, just goodnight." He tipped his hat to her and left.

  Chapter Five

  People gathered around like ants, Gabby thought as she was introduced to first one then the other. Women came, women she didn't know, with black clothes and sad faces. They didn't come empty handed either, every one of them had a covered dish to place out on the table the men quickly made for them. They covered the food with a big tablecloth while the funeral went on.

  It was a hot, dry day, only a few pillow-like white clouds laced the sky. Birds sang in the trees; a particularly loud mockingbird sang a medley of songs in the tree by the cemetery. Gabby had a grave dug by her mother's side in the small cemetery on her land. Her father had made a nice little place, under a pecan tree and now he was joining her mother. Several cowboys from town came out to the funeral. She vaguely knew them.

  Several women came, took her in their arms and hugged her tight, and told her she should come to town now. They told her it was no place for a young lady. Gabby didn't say a word. She didn't understand their thinking. This was her home, where she belonged. This was the life she understood. Besides, this was the only place she wanted to be right now.

  The preacher from the little white church at the end of town came to speak words over her father and she was pleased. This wasn't the same preacher that married her and Cole, and she was glad. The fewer people that knew they were married, the better.

  Cole got there a bit late, and she frowned at him as his men came with him, all decked out in their best. It seemed half the women of the town showed up and brought food for her. She hadn't expected so many people.

  Not many of the women knew much about Harmon, except one of the saloon girls that showed up at the funeral. She was dressed in a very respectable dress of dark purple, her blonde hair was all done up on top her head, she wore a lovely hat that shaded her beautiful blue eyes, it had a purple feather in it. She stood out from the crowd of gingham dressed women. However, somewhat melancholy she told Gabby what she knew of her father.

  "You know, he used to love to dance, your father, when he was younger. He sure could cut a rug." She chuckled.

  Gabby stared managing a slight smile. "Really, I didn't know. I mean he taught me to dance too, but I never knew he danced anywhere besides home. But then, I rarely went to town."

  "He talked about you a lot, too. He was so very proud of you, when he spoke of you. He wanted to do better for you, Gabby. You must know that." The woman told her. "Not many even knew you existed. But he was so proud of you. Said you were a hard worker, and that he could never give you enough to repay what you'd done for him out here."

  "Oh…"

  The woman looked at her with compassion and a smile. "You weren't such a secret. He spoke of you often and well. There was never a father, prouder than Harmon. I ask him one time why he didn't bring you to town, he said you'd rather stay at home. He said this was where you belonged."

  Gabby smiled at the woman. "I didn't want to go to town. I don't fit in there."

  The woman smiled with understanding.

  "He told me one of these days he was going to play poker and win big and then he'd buy you a houseful of dresses. He said you deserved them. He was so proud of you, he said you worked so hard. And…he said you were just like your Mama."

  Gabby couldn't help but chuckle. All the dresses she had were from her mother, she'd refitted them to herself, but she did remember her father telling her how he would buy her every dress in town, when he won the big poker game.

  The woman sobered, "He never wanted much for himself, it was all going to be for you. That says a lot about a man, you know?"

  Gabby felt herself welling with tears. "He was a good father. At least the best he could be."

  "A lot of people will miss him, including me." She said huskily. "I just wanted you to know. He was a swell man, Gabby, be proud of him." She hugged her then left.

  Gabby stared after her as she rode off in a fancy buggy, her feathered hat blowing in the wind. What a picture she made. Strangely, something about her reminded her of her mother.

  Cole came to stand beside her.

  "Who was that lady?" She asked him.

  "That was Martha Nelson."

  "She knew my father pretty well, didn't she?"

  Cole nodded, "Yeah, Martha liked Harmon."

  "Was there ever anything between them?" She asked quietly.

  "I don't know, I never asked." He stared down at her now. "Martha sort of saw after your father when he came to town. He was always alone and had little money to spend. She'd see he had his sarsaparilla and enough to play a couple of hands of poker every time he came in. They say he was quite a dancer in his time, too. She said she never could dance until he came along and showed her. That's how they became friends. Your father was quite a stepper in his younger days. He loved music and he loved dancing. He'd often twirl one of the girls in the saloon around to a merry tune."

  "I guess there is a lot I didn't know about him." She quipped. "He danced in the saloon?"

  "Yes, that's where Martha works."

  "He didn't talk about his trips to town much. I often wondered who he met, what he did there. Sometimes, in his sleep I'd catch something. He never mentioned her, I wonder why? She seems like a nice lady."

  "Really, I'm surprised, he always enjoyed coming into town, having his sarsaparilla and doing a jig or two, then sitting down to a poker table most of the afternoon. He'd play two rounds, only two, then he'd sit and tell us about the war, or something funny that happened to him a long time ago. I don't think he realized how entertaining he was, but I'll grant you everyone in town did. I didn't know he was so talented either, but some of his stories told of the things he had done."

  "He used to be a handy man in town. He'd do every odd job that came up. I liked him going to town because when he'd come home, he'd be happy and smiling. I could tell he had a good time."

  "Why didn't you ever come with him?" He asked out of curiosity.

  "I guess that seems strange to most people. But I didn't fit in town. Out here, this is where I belong."

&nbs
p; "What do you mean you didn't fit. I thought anyone could come to town."

  "After momma died, I didn't have the kind of clothes a girl is supposed to have. I wore mostly boy's clothes. The last time I was in town, I wore pants, shirt and flop hat and all the kids made fun. I never wanted to go back. I just didn't fit in."

  "I can't picture you as a coward."

  She sighed too heavily, "I was a kid. As I grew older, I had no desire to go. This is where I belong."

  "Did he teach you to dance?" He changed the subject.

  "He taught me a little." She admitted.

  He smiled.

  "It was a nice service." He told her.

  "You brought all your men, how come?" She asked.

  "Most of them knew him. Liked him."

  "Oh…I didn't realize he knew so many people."

  He smiled and offered his arm to take her back toward the house. "He knew almost everyone in town."

  "I did want to tell you something that I'm concerned about."

  "Alright." She stopped to look at him.

  "That first night I came out. Two men rode up to your place. They say your dad lost in a poker game and that this land is theirs." Cole told her.

  "Theirs!" She shrieked. "How could that be?"

  "That's what they said. And all the witnesses to the game are dead, so there is no way to prove it one way or another. I'm concerned they might show up again. Would you consider coming to stay at my place?"

  She shook her head. "No, even more reason to stay here. They won't take this place. Not unless it's over my dead body."

  "Now you see, that's what I'm trying to prevent. You are in danger here."

  She stared at him now, with a frown on her face, "Let me ask you this. If this was your land, would you just let someone ride up and take it away from you, after you've worked your fingers to the bone to keep it?"

  The stubborn jut of her chin told him she wouldn't listen to reason.

  "No, but then I'm a man…"

  "And I'm a woman, who knows how to use a rifle." She announced. "And if I must kill a man, I can do it."

  They walked over to the big long table that the women had made for the food. There was a mountain of food. Gabby barely nibbled though. She felt a sore knot in her throat that wouldn't budge. She didn't know if it was from trying not to cry, or not.

  She didn't know many of the women either. They all stared at her and she could tell they were talking about her behind her back. It made her nervous.

  Cole watched her. "You better eat more than that, you'll give out fast if you don't."

  "No need to worry, I can hold my end up." She told him. "Besides, I always have a big breakfast."

  "I'm sure you can hold your end up, but for some reason I'm worried about you."

  She turned to look at him, "No one worried about me for years, why should they start now?" And then she walked away.

  Someone grabbed a fiddle and people began to dance to the music.

  Cole gazed down at her now, "Mrs. Martin would you dance with me?"

  She stared at him for a moment, then glanced about to see if anyone heard him. "I guess…" she barely uttered before he took her in his arms.

  But when he took her in his arms, he whirled her around like she was a doll. She couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips, and he couldn't help but notice too.

  "He did teach you, didn't he?" He chuckled.

  "Yes…a few years after my Ma died. Said all young girls should know how to dance. I never knew why."

  "Because all men like holding a pretty girl in their arms, that's why." He teased her. "You never said, and I didn't think to ask, are you sweet on anyone, Gabby? I mean, I never inquired about it and I wondered."

  "Sweet on?" She frowned.

  "Do you like any gentlemen."

  "Oh, not especially. To tell the truth I hardly know any. A few have come to see dad, but none of them stood out in my memory. Of course, like you, they caught me at my best, so it's not a wonder. Maybe there is something wrong with me. I'm usually dirty more than cleaned up."

  "Ever been courted?"

  "No, guess I've led a dull life, haven't I?" She asked.

  A smile curled his lips.

  "It was a pleasure," he tipped his hat to her, then walked off to get something to eat.

  "What?" She hollered after him.

  "The dance," He tipped his hat to her and sent her a sensual smile.

  The dance was exhilarating, and she felt a bit flushed. Especially when Cole smiled so charmingly at her. Even though everyone was enjoying themselves, she walked off to a nearby creek to be alone for a while. She needed to hide the sadness inside her. For years her father had been her sole companion. They got along so well, they didn't have to talk half the time, they just enjoyed being together. Now he was gone, and her life would change. Even when he'd been quiet, he managed to fill the distance between them. Now that would be gone too. Her life was going to change, and she feared it wouldn't be for the better.

  She didn't want to grow old and bitter. Her father had told her about people doing that. He wouldn't want to see her that way. But how did you get rid of this sadness? How did you look forward to the day, when your heart was filled with memories and sadness that there would be no more?

  She knew very few of her father's friends. It made her realize that she had neglected to get to know anyone, and it made her sadder that she had very few friends of her own. She felt shy and out of place as though her father's death made her an outcast suddenly. The only one that truly knew her was her father. And he was gone!

  The fact that she'd waited even this long to get to know anyone, made her stand out as an outcast. She realized she'd been wrong to stay home all the time. She'd made no real and lasting friends. Her ignorance was her own fault.

  Cole found her sitting by the Creekside on a rock. The water gurgled over the rocks, making a music of its own. Flowers bloomed nearby and lent a sweet smell to the air. It was nice here, there were trees and the shade made it like a private cove.

  "There you are, I wondered where you got off to."

  She stared at him for a long moment.

  "You don't have to fret over me. I don't fit in with all those people." She said lowly. "They keep staring at me as though I'm not real or something."

  "They are naturally curious about you. Harmon kept you a real secret. And that's hard to believe. I never knew he was married nor had a kid. This is a funeral, you didn't have to fit in. They came to pay their respects to your father. You could get to know them, you know."

  Her head jerked about to stare into his face. "Won't they already have preconceived notions about me though?"

  "Some will, that's true. But I have an idea you got thicker skin than you think."

  "They all stare at me like I'm some freak. I guess to them I am. I'm not sure I want to get to know them. They aren't friendly, like Miss Martha."

  "Their hearts are in the right place. That's why they are here. But I'll admit, you are a stranger to them."

  "I guess I sound selfish, mean and rude."

  "No, you don't. But there is no reason you can't fit in, Gabby. If you really want to."

  She sighed and stared at the running water in the creek. "After my mother died, my dad didn't know how to take care of me. He knew I needed clothes. But the only people he knew had all boys, so he took their old, used clothes and brought them to me. I didn't mind, it was easier to do chores in boy's britches than in a dress. But when I outgrew the dress I had when momma was living, we couldn't go to church. So, I quit going and soon, so did he. He treated me more like a boy than a girl. I hid my hair in my hat. Then I started growing up and he sure didn't know what to do with me, then. He still got clothes from the same people, but he knew things weren't right for me. When I came into being a young woman, he must have talked to someone, maybe Martha, because he told me things and gave me things I'd need. It was awkward for him. I knew that. He never brought a woman out here, ever. It was the
only time in my life I was ashamed I was a girl."

  "Did you know," he reached to touch her hair now, wrapping a strand around his finger and looking at it, he smiled. "you have the most beautiful hair." He said softly.

  Her cheeks colored.

  They were silent a long time, then she blurted.

  "One old lady, right after Mama died, came out to tell him it was a shame how he raised me and that I was a girl, I had no right to live out here alone with him. It was the only time I ever saw my dad mad at anyone. But he run her off. He got his rifle and run her off, and he told her to never, ever come back. She thought the worse of him, for hiding me out here. But he didn't hide me. I hid myself. I learned early that I didn't have the proper clothes and things like most girls. So, I preferred everyone to think I was a boy. And after she came, saying those awful things she said, I didn't want to think of myself as a girl. But God has a way of changing that kind of thinking. I didn't want people saying those ugly things to my dad either."

  Cole stared at her, his heart going out to her for how she had lived.

  "After that woman came out and said those things, I did my best to look like a boy. So, people that came here wouldn't say those kinds of things ever again to him. He had no reason to be ashamed. My dad was a good man, God fearing. He took care of me as good as he could. And I loved him. I loved him as my father, nothing more, nothing less."

  Cole fidgeted a bit. She was near tears talking about the old man and it saddened him to see her hurting so badly. He instinctively knew she needed to cry a bucket of tears right now.