They visited The Inn, Barker House, and The Mansions—but no Patrick O’Shaughnessy. Lexie’s legs quivered from trudging up and down the hills from building to building. Even though she was used to both high altitude and exercise, it seemed as if they walked a lot more up than down.
“Maybe we got here before he did,” Burke said as the two of them collapsed on the park bench. “Charity wouldn’t have written that note if she weren’t positive he’d be in Manitou Springs.”
Lexie had her doubts. “When Patrick left, he said he’d be back with mining equipment, and this is clearly a resort town.”
“You didn’t believe him, though. From what I gather, you say he stole your five thousand dollars—which, I might add, is not how he operates. So if you don’t believe him and you don’t believe Charity, where do you think he is?”
“We should check that café over there, with iced lemonade. I’m parched.”
“Tell me where you think my brother is, and I’ll buy. You can record it in your ledger book.”
“Speaking of which, you didn’t tell me how much you tipped the porter and the hotel clerk.”
“Enough to make their wives happy. I’m not moving from this bench until you tell me what you know.”
“Denver or San Francisco—somewhere he could buy used mining equipment. Maybe Virginia City.” She juggled her parasol and handbag while she pulled herself to her feet, wishing she could remove her gloves for five minutes.
The café was stuffy so they sat at a sidewalk table.
When they were served, Burke ran his fingers through his hair, one of the few signs of exasperation she’d seen. “The high-stakes game is in Denver. We might as well check, but we can’t get out of here until at least tomorrow unless we rent a buggy.”
“Would have to be a big buggy to haul two trunks, two valises, and us.”
“You could go back to Silverton and I’ll find him.”
Was he crazy? She’d gone this far—she’d make good and sure her sister’s baby had a name. While her trust in Burke had grown some, his loyalties lay with his brother, and she knew he’d never force his brother to marry Helen.
A tall, rough-looking fellow dressed as a gentleman approached and stood beside the bench on Burke’s side. “Given that any thought yet?”
“Looks like I’m stuck here for the night, so might as well join the game.”
“Game?” That’s all she needed—they had a man to find and Burke planned to gallivant off and gamble the night away. Not to mention the monetary risk. “Are you planning to leave me alone again?”
The man eyed Burke. “This your wife?”
“Uh, yes. Just married.”
“Ah, I see why you’re balking.” He grinned and offered his hand. “Congratulations to you, Mr. O’Shaughnessy, and my sympathies to you, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy.”
After they shook hands, Burke said, “I’m in—be there at nine.”
And so would she.
* * *
On the way back to the Manitou House, Lexie knew she was trying Burke’s patience by window shopping.
“When in Manitou Springs, one must take the waters, and I need a bathing costume.”
“Make sure you write the expense down in your little book.”
“I certainly will.” She stopped in front of a ladies’ wear shop that advertised readymade clothing as well as custom dressmaking. “This looks promising.”
“Good. While you’re trying on clothes, I’ll sit here.” He plopped on a bench in front of the store.
Even though she knew better than to leave him to his own devices, the bathing costume in the window beckoned and she wanted to try it on. Plus, they had some cute shoes and her footwear supply was decidedly lacking.
“Buy another dress while you’re at it,” Burke said as she went into the store.
And she did. While paying for a camisole, two pairs of stockings, a dress, a bathing costume, and a pair of matching slippers, she chided herself for such extravagance. Burke’s spendthrift ways were rubbing off on her, and that wasn’t good. Still, it was fun to buy new things, especially after the long train trip, and it also made her feel confident when she knew she looked her best.
When she stepped out of the shop, the boardwalk in front of the store was jammed with children, while women and men stood around the periphery. Burke was right where she left him, pulling cards out of kids’ ears and pockets.
Burke pointed to a boy who stood beside an older version of a man, obviously the boy’s father. “What do you have in your pocket?”
“A penny and a stick of horehound candy.”
“Want to show it to us?”
The boy took his father’s watch out of his pocket and the little fellow’s eyes widened. “How’d this get in there?”
The crowd laughed and then Burke asked the boy’s father to check his vest pocket. He did, removing a penny and a stick of horehound candy. The man looked stunned but the boy and the crowd were all laughing.
When Burke saw Lexie, he said to the crowd, “My lady’s here, so it’s time to be on our way. Thanks for being such good sports.” He offered his arm and she took it. She felt a bit smug that she had the attention of the star of the show and the handsomest man in town. Then again, she had no business allowing him to affect her that way.
“Let’s go to the telegraph office,” Lexie said. “I want to send my father a message telling him where I am, and also notify the telegrapher of my whereabouts in case Papa responds.”
“It’s a deal.”
As he escorted her down Manitou Avenue, people waved and shouted their greetings. Burke O’Shaughnessy was a star everywhere he went.
* * *
Burke expected Lexie to be put off by his night’s work but he couldn’t tell her the nature of his business, so he let her go on thinking he was an inveterate gambler. Which he was, but not tonight. The Pinkertons had a man to catch and they paid handsomely. Plus, it was fun to set the trap and watch some low-life step into it.
Gamblers came in two shades—those such as himself who loved the risk and strategy but generally played the game straight, and those who were out to fleece any unsuspecting soul with a dollar in his pocket. Burke never gambled with anyone who couldn’t afford to lose his bet, and he never cheated at poker unless a player cheated him first.
“I’m assuming you’re attending a drinking establishment with your friend.” Lexie dabbed her lips with the napkin.
“Most gaming halls serve spirits.”
“I’d like another glass of milk, please.”
Another? The first glass held a pint. He signaled the waiter. “We’ll have another glass of milk for the lady and dessert menus, please.”
“With cream,” she added.
“Our milk is separated, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, but I’d be happy to bring a small pitcher of cream as well.”
She nodded, and Burke wondered where she was putting it all. When Lexie waved off dessert—and no wonder since the woman had drunk a quart of milk—he ordered a tray of fruit, nuts, and cheeses to be sent to her room.
“I’d like another glass of milk sent to my room, please.”
The waiter nodded and said, “Would you like soda crackers for in the morning?”
“That would be nice, yes.”
Soda crackers? Morning?
“Pardon my boldness, but you might also take a nice soak in our spa. The waters are especially comforting to a woman in your condition.”
“In my—oooh...” She smiled ever so sweetly. “I’ll take advantage of it.”
Burke just bet she would. Whatever she was up to, he figured he’d come out on the short end of the stick. Alexandra Campbell held four aces when it came to brains. He just hoped she wasn’t shooting for a full house.
When the waiter left, Burke tossed an extra tip on the table. “What are you planning to do with all that milk—take a bath in it?”
“Another twenty-dollar tip? We won’t have any money left.”
“But remember, I must be appreciative of extra services for a woman in your condition.”
For the first time in a week, she had nothing to say. At least he had one small victory.
* * *
At nine o’clock sharp, he met the Pinkerton, called Alden—likely not his real name—on the corner of Manitou and Ruxton Avenues. The dusk had health-seekers scurrying back to their hotels.
“We’ve been hired by a private party to investigate a gambler who goes by Toulson.” He took two cigars from his vest pocket, handed Burke one, then struck a lucifer to light them both.
“Don’t know him.” Burke took a long drag. “Some rich boy got fleeced, I reckon.”
“Nope, some rich girl ran off with him, then Toulson left her at a whorehouse up in Cheyenne. When we found her, she was beat up something terrible. Crushed cheek, broken ribs, seems to be deaf in one ear, and who knows what else. Her father can’t tell us what happened ‘cause she ain’t said a word since.”
“Sounds like the law oughta be called, not me.”
“Law can’t do nothing since she ain’t talking.” A tic in Alden’s right cheek gave away his compassion despite his stone face. “We don’t know who beat her up or what other ill-use was done to her, but Toulson took her there, and dollars to jackasses, he’s the one who done it.”
Hanging was too good for a bastard such as that. Burke couldn’t abide scoundrels who harmed others and gave the gambling profession a bad name. “What’s her daddy want, then?”
“He wants this scalawag cornered so the law has a reason to arrest him. Once he’s in jail, the girl’s father will take care of the rest.”
“Why not just take him out in the desert and stake him on an ant pile?”
“That, I don’t know. I would’ve.” He tipped his derby up and took a couple quick puffs. “Might yet.”
Burke would’ve bet aces over kings that Alden was the one who found the girl. “Where’s he operating?”
“Manitou House. There’s a gaming room back of the tavern on the first floor.”
“If he’s playing a crooked game, I can call it.”
“You do that, and I’ll take it from there.”
* * *
Lexie’s corset battled with her stomach. Even though she hadn’t eaten that much, the stays didn’t leave room for three tall glasses of milk. It was a price she’d have to pay. She’d read in the newspaper that milk allayed the effects of alcohol, which was good to know since she had little tolerance for anything stronger than lemonade.
Burke had gone “to a meeting” nearly an hour ago. Sure, it was a meeting—several men gathering to play poker, and the most likely venue was the hotel card room.
She finally felt well enough to go downstairs and join him. He’d be surprised when she drank as much as he did. And she was determined to beat him at his own game, too, especially since she’d found a copy of The American Hoyle in the hotel library. She had memorized all the rules and the various hands, along with the betting terms and strategies.
Right up her alley. Burke would learn that she could meet him and beat him in any intellectual pursuit. If only she could shuffle cards—that skill eluded her, and when she practiced, half the time most of the cards ended up on the floor.
Despite her still-uneasy stomach, and butterflies besides, she counted her money and tucked half into a side pocket of her handbag and the rest she stashed in her bosom. Gambling men couldn’t be trusted, and if Burke could magically remove items from handbags and wallets, other men could, as well. They were probably his fellow sharpers.
She rested another fifteen minutes, took care of business, and when her gastric system relaxed, it was time to meet Burke in his own turf.
The lobby buzzed with gentlemen, and some not so gentle men, too. Only a few ladies were there, and those few, wearing garish low-cut gowns and rouge, flirted shamelessly. Piano music leaked from the tavern.
Lexie swallowed hard, straightened her shoulders, and headed for the tavern. Burke had told her the card room was in a room partitioned off the back of it. Every few steps, she heard, “Good evening, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy.” To those, she nodded, and ignored the chuckles.
She wasn’t quite sure what was so amusing, but it must have been something to do with Burke, not her. No one had ever accused her of having a sense of humor.
Single ladies had no business in a tavern and her throat tightened as if she were entering the lion’s den. In a way, she was. But then she remembered Charity Ann Templeton. Charity wouldn’t creep around like a mouse—she’d exude confidence and the men would be fawning over her inside of a few minutes.
Lexie glided to the bar as much like a queen as she could.
The bartender came to her immediately. “What can I get for you, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy?”
“Directions to the gaming room, please.”
“Does your husband know you’re here?”
“Of course,” she lied without batting an eyelash. “He’s expecting me.”
“I’m afraid you’re early. He’s not here yet.”
“That’s fine. I’ll settle in a game and I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”
The bartender waved to a fellow dressed in a quasi-livery uniform, the same as the busboys, who stood near a door. “Please escort Mrs. O’Shaughnessy to the table you’ve reserved for Burke and party.” He emphasized the “missus.”
She’d never been in a card room. Cigar smoke hugged the ceiling but the room itself was masculinely elegant with varnished wood trim, brass and crystal chandeliers, brass wall sconces, and emerald velvet wallpaper. Five card tables seated six, seven were for four, and faro tables and roulette wheels took up the other half of the room. A bar lined the far end, worked by a bartender and a waiter.
The doorman seated her at a mahogany table with the center covered with felt. Two men already sat there. They were across the table from her and three empty chairs remained—one on her right and two on her left. “Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, this is Mr. Toulson and to his right is Mr. Alden. Your husband and the other gents will be here soon. Would you have a preference of beverages?”
“Sherry, please.” Thank goodness she’d drunk all that milk.
Lexie recognized Mr. Alden as the fellow who had spoken to Burke while they were sitting at the café. He stood and greeted Lexie, as a man of manners would do.
The other man, Mr. Toulson, did not. He wore his blond hair slicked back, his handlebar mustache waxed to the perfect shape, and a new suit with a maroon vest. Without missing a puff of his fat cigar, he merely nodded and continued shuffling and riffling. He was a sight better than she was at it, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Burke.
“I’m very new at the game, gentlemen, but I thought I’d try a few hands before I retire for the evening.”
The waiter, not the doorman, brought her the sherry. She wasn’t sure if she should pay now or later, or when and how much to tip. The book hadn’t covered such niceties. “I’ll put this on your husband’s tab.”
“Thank you.” Good, so that was taken care of.
Another man, the hotel manager, sat at the table and introduced himself. “Dorsey, here. Mr. O’Shaughnessy invited me to join you.”
After Alden and Toulson stated their last names, Mr. Dorsey turned to Lexie. “You look lovely tonight, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy.”
“Thank you.”
Toulson spoke up. “Since we have four, we might as well start playing.” He shuffled the cards and pushed the deck toward Mr. Dorsey. “Want the first deal?”
Mr. Dorsey threw in ten dollars. “Ante up.” He took the cards. “Dealing draw.” He shuffled a few times and Toulson cut them, then Dorsey picked them up and began dealing.
Lexie sipped her sherry, thankful that he called a game she’d studied. Five cards, then you choose which to throw away and the dealer gives you the same amount of cards, so you have five again. Easy. The odds came in with betting.
After he dealt the cards, she picked hers up, nearly dropping
one. Two jacks, two fours, and a seven. Now she had to decide whether to go for a full house or three of a kind—maybe four. Thirty-two cards were left in the deck, and three chances out of seventeen that one of the other players held a jack and those same three chances they had a four. Or should she go with the odds of two to twenty-six, that she’d be dealt a jack or a four?
It seemed a whole lot easier when she read it in the book. Straightforward. “Bet’s to you, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy. Open or check?”
“Open.” She shoved a ten toward the ante pile. “Is ten enough?”
“For starters. Alden?”
“See.”
Mr. Toulson threw in a ten and another ten. “Raise. Twenty to you, Dorsey.”
She wished they’d take a little more time since she hadn’t decided what to do yet.
“See.” Mr. Dorsey threw in twenty and all three men looked at Lexie.
She took another sip of sherry. It relaxed her and made it easier to think. Maybe another sip.
“All right,” Dorsey said, picking up the deck. “How many cards do you want?”
“One.”
They played out the hand and she was delighted to win the round. The waiter refilled her sherry and offered her a tray of hors d’oeuvres—cheeses, meat cubes, and crackers. She waved them off, having only recently reined her stomach under control.
The men finished off their whiskeys so she drank her second glass of sherry, vaguely wondering if the milk would work as written. She stared at her nearly two hundred dollars—she couldn’t remember exactly how much. A normal person would leave at that point, and she wanted to, but just then Burke walked in.
“Sorry I’m late, but it looks like you’re having a good time without me.”
Chapter 10
Burke’s knees nearly buckled when he entered the card room and saw Lexie at the card table sipping a drink. Both he and Alden had concealed weapons for a reason—the night could get violent. Somehow he had to get this woman upstairs tucked safely in bed without arousing Toulson’s suspicion.
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 174