Gambling on the Outlaw

by Margaret Madigan

“No, but I’ve played with some of the men who were.”

  “I didn’t think you played poker.”

  “I dabble.”

  Poor Frank. When we settled in Palmer, Frank had told me he was done with big gambling. He’d just play local games every now and then. I’d always been with him on the circuit, but this time had been the first he’d played here and he’d told me he didn’t need me. It was just a bunch of good old boys playing cards. He’d called it easy pickings.

  “You don’t sound too concerned that a man was killed at the same place you play.”

  “He shouldn’t have accused someone of cheating. The man obviously took offense.”

  “We’d seen plenty of cheats on the circuit. Nobody ever killed each other over it.”

  “This isn’t the circuit.”

  “What if he’d accused you of cheating? You would have killed him?”

  “I wasn’t there.”

  “But you play with the same men. You could have easily been there.”

  “Nobody calls me a cheat and gets away with it.”

  “You are a lying cheat. Are you going to kill me for pointing out something everyone already knows?”

  “Of course not. I’ve worked so hard to get you where I want you.”

  “But if you hadn’t worked so hard, you would,” I said. My words were sarcastic, but his response sent a chill down my spine.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “That you’ve killed a woman who refused to marry you?”

  He shook his head as if he were disappointed at my thickheadedness. “Not the first time I’ve removed people in my way.”

  He was going to make me drag the information out of him. By the proud smile on his face he was pretty pleased with himself.

  “Like who?”

  “Ask your sweetheart in lockup.”

  I blinked, then frowned, trying to make sense of what he’d implied. “You really are responsible for that robbery and those murders. Why would you kill those people?”

  “Roger was really the only one I cared about. The rest were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You murdered your own brother? Why?”

  “When he told me he wanted to be governor, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Can you imagine the freedom I’d have had with my brother as governor? But he told me he cared about Nevada and wanted to do right by the people. I didn’t believe him at first. Being governor would only give him more power, and there was nothing Roger loved more than power. So we fought and he gave me an ultimatum—I had to clean up my act, or he’d take action. He couldn’t have me scrutinized in any way. It could affect his reputation.”

  I shook my head. “That’s it? You killed your own brother because he became inconvenient?”

  “He threatened me first. Taking action was his promise I’d be dead and he’d take everything I owned.”

  “How could you know that?”

  “I knew my brother. He was all about reputation and appearances, but behind closed doors his activities have always been more criminal and ruthless than anything I’d ever done. So I killed him first and since I needed someone to blame, Collins was the perfect choice—an outsider with a shady history who’d already caused trouble.”

  I crossed my arms and stared at him. He held my gaze, but his expression was more amused than anything. He really wasn’t concerned about the things he’d done.

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “You’re about to be my wife. The way I understand marriage, we should share everything.”

  If I’d had a weapon handy, I’d have wiped the smirk right off his face.

  “Get out of my sight.” I said. I couldn’t stand to look at him a second longer. I didn’t for a minute believe he was confessing his involvement in Roger’s murder because he felt a matrimonial need to share.

  His smirk disappeared as he unfolded himself from the chair and crossed the room. He took my chin in his hand and jerked my face up so I was forced to look at him.

  “Don’t ever presume to give me orders. That is my job, alone. I’ll say or do whatever I choose to you and you’ll say ‘yes, sir’ and like it. Frank is dead. He was a worthless piece of shit and you will stop sniveling over him this instant. I don’t ever want to hear his name or any reference to him again. I’m as good as your husband now and you will respect me as such. Is that clear?”

  I scowled at him with as much venom as I could muster, but refused to answer. He pinched my face harder and raised the other hand as if he meant to slap me. I wasn’t afraid, but this wasn’t worth the fight. Defying him wouldn’t bring Frank back, or those people on the stage. I needed to be sure Isaac was free before I started any battles with Clay. And there would surely be battles. I would not lie down and be the wife he wanted me to be.

  “Yes,” I grunted between clenched teeth.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir,” I ground out.

  He let go and smiled. “Good girl. I have errands to run so I’ll be gone most of the day. Juanita will watch after you.”

  “What about Isaac?” I asked. “That was the condition of our agreement. Proof that Isaac is free before I marry you.”

  “One of my errands in town.”

  Clay left me in the company of his housekeeper, Juanita, who babysat me while I bathed and dressed.

  I spent the rest of the day following Juanita around and learning about management of the main house, which was sort of a rustic version of the sophisticated mansions where I’d helped Father treat patients back in St. Louis. There were so many rooms, and three separate staircases, that I was left with the impression of a maze. The only place in the house where I felt even remotely comfortable was the library. While Juanita dusted, I surveyed the room, running my fingers along the shelves and marveling that Clay actually had decent taste in literature. I pulled out a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. I hadn’t read it since before I left my father’s house.

  Late in the afternoon Clay returned home with a wagonload of supplies, and the minister, who seemed a bit surly about having been dragged out to the ranch.

  While Reverend Miller freshened up, I cornered Clay in the dining room.

  “So, did you free Isaac?”

  “I made arrangements.”

  I propped a fist on my hip. “I want specifics.”

  From his scowl I thought he’d yell at me again about knowing my place, but this was one thing I wouldn’t let go, and he knew it.

  “After midnight Gil will release him. I left a horse behind the jail with saddlebags full of supplies, and some cash. I talked to Collins and told him to get the hell out of town and never come back.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was happy he wouldn’t have his neck stretched tomorrow.”

  “Is that all?”

  He sneered. “If you mean, did he ask about you, no. I told him we were going to be married and his only comment was that it was fine with him. He was done with you anyway.”

  I jerked as if he’d slapped me, and that made Clay’s sneer turn into a smile. I cursed myself for showing any reaction. I gave myself a mental shake. Odds were, Clay was just trying to get a rise out of me. Either way, it didn’t matter. If Isaac had said it, maybe he’d been trying to save face, and maybe he was just stating the obvious. We’d probably never see each other again, so we really were done with each other. As long as he was free, I’d know I’d saved him, and even though our time together had been short, at least we’d had it.

  “How will you and Gil explain to the bloodthirsty public expecting a hanging in the morning?”

  He shrugged. “He escaped. We’ll put on a show of looking for him, but in the end he’ll get away, or be another law enforcement’s problem.”

  I considered him for a long moment. It sounded like a reasonable plan, but I didn’t trust Clay worth spit.

  “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

  “I’ll take you to town in the morning
and you can watch him leave. Then we’ll come back here and get married.”

  That gave me a little more confidence, but still not enough. Before I could answer him, the minister joined us and Clay turned his attention to the other man, dismissing me. The two of them sat down to start making plans, and I took a seat at the other end of the table. I assumed my only role in the whole affair would be to choke out “I do” at the appropriate time, so I had no interest in their discussion.

  Somewhere along about dusk there was a knock on the door. Juanita went to answer it and returned trailed by Silas Devol, Avery Shaw, and Clem Dillon. I sat up from where I’d been reading.

  “Silas, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  Clay shot me a reproving look. Apparently speaking without permission was on the list of things I wasn’t allowed to do.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Silas said, removing his hat and running a hand through his perfectly groomed hair.

  I glanced at Clay, then back to Silas before I gave a halfhearted shrug. Silas chuckled.

  “I don’t see how it’s any of your affair,” Clay said.

  “I was offended I didn’t receive an invitation.”

  “You’re hardly a close family friend. Why would I invite you?”

  “I’m an old friend of the bride.”

  Clay looked at me like he’d forgotten I was actually involved. “This is going to be a very small wedding.”

  “Well then, I suppose we can get down to business.”

  Clay cocked his head. “Oh?”

  “Your pretty little fiancée owes me money. Once you’re married, you can pay it off.”

  Clay stood and sauntered from the dining room into the sitting room where Silas and his men seemed to fill the room. Clay wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Why should he be? He was a big man in his own home.

  He puffed out his chest. “I’m not paying you shit, so you can just leave.”

  Silas wasn’t the least bit cowed. Not only was he a big man physically, but he was a man with a big reputation that reached far beyond little Palmer, Nevada. Clay either didn’t know or didn’t appreciate that fact.

  “She belongs to you, so do her debts. You pay up, or you’ll have trouble with me. And you don’t want that.”

  Clay barked a dismissive laugh. “You don’t know what I want.”

  He stepped closer to Silas so they were within a foot of each other. Shaw and Dillon stepped up, their hands on the butts of their guns, adding to the air of bravado in the room. I’d seen this kind of confrontation before. It was just a bunch of boys trying to prove who was most important, when it really couldn’t have mattered less. It was entertaining to watch, and maybe there would be a price for Clay to pay.

  “I know what you don’t want,” Silas said, donning his hat again. “And that’s to cross me.”

  His face was like etched ice, all cold, hard edges, and it made me shiver.

  “Get out of my house,” Clay hissed. “And feel free to leave Palmer and never come back.”

  Silas ignored Clay and came to me. He took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. “I’m sure you have your reasons for marrying this ass. I hope you’ll be happy.”

  I snorted. “Thanks for your heartfelt concern.”

  He grinned, showing his perfect white teeth. “My pleasure. Come on, boys. Time to leave.” At the door he turned back to Clay, flicking him a quick two-fingered salute. “I’ll be back tomorrow for the wedding. And to collect.”

  ~Isaac~

  After leaving the jail, I rode hard for Dearborn’s place. Daisy and Lydia had brought me the same horse Beth had ridden when she’d come after me, the paint named Little Sister. She was faster than I’d imagined, but she’d probably been trained by native warriors, who demanded speed and agility from their mounts.

  At first, we stayed to the road. I wanted to make time before finding cover. All I needed to do was to get within range of Dearborn’s place.

  Halfway there, we slowed and left the road. I pulled up on the reins until Little Sister stopped. I cocked my head, listening to the noises of the night. The sound of pounding hooves in the distance drifted on the air.

  I dug my heels into her ribs and we took off again. When we rounded the last bend and Dearborn’s place was in sight, but still a distance off, Little Sister slowed, then flat-out stopped. The lights in the windows of the house were little more than blurs from where we stood.

  I nudged her ribs again, urging her to move on. With Dawson and his men bearing down on us from behind, I didn’t want to get stuck between them and the house. But Little Sister refused to budge.

  I leaned down close and whispered in her ear. “What’s got you spooked, girl?”

  She jerked her head up and down, up and down, in the direction of the house, but didn’t make a sound.

  “Beth’s in there. We’ll get her back.”

  I urged her to move again, but she stayed put. Instead she shook her head so her mane flopped back and forth. Now the horse had me spooked.

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  I heard a rustle in the trees and a twig snap. Little Sister’s ears went straight up and she jerked her head again. I slid off her back and patted her neck.

  “Good girl. You’re looking out for me. Thank you.”

  She nudged my neck with her warm, soft nose. I took that to mean “you’re welcome.” She had to be the smartest horse I’d ever met.

  “I’ll go check this out,” I whispered. “You stay out of sight.”

  I drew my gun and took off toward the sound, not entirely sure what I expected the horse to do, but even if she stayed where she was, when the posse came up on her, they’d think I left her there and approached the house on foot.

  Skirting the trees, I was careful where I stepped. Many times during the war—and after—having a quiet stride had kept me alive. Practice sneaking up on cattle out on the range had perfected my ability to move silently over the land.

  It didn’t take me long to find the men who’d made the noise. The closer I got to their camp, the easier it was to spot them, so I hunkered down to watch.

  There were three of them in a clearing, with their horses tied a short distance deeper in the trees. The men didn’t seem too concerned about being quiet, but they did speak in hushed voices and they all watched the house closely. By the intermittent orange glow, I figured two of them smoked cigars. I couldn’t make out their words from where I hid, just low murmuring.

  I couldn’t learn much more just sitting there, and I needed to know who they were and what they were up to before I went to the house. They were probably armed, but their guards were down, so I stood and crept up close enough that I could get the drop on them. They didn’t hear me coming until I pulled back the hammer on my gun.

  “Evening, gentlemen. Moon ain’t too bright tonight, but it’s enough, so keep your hands where I can see them,” I said.

  “Holy shit,” one of the men said, raising his hands in the air. The man sitting next to him raised his hands, too. Despite the dark, I thought I recognized them.

  Another man, sitting on a log across from them, raised his hands and said, “Good evening to you, sir. You have us at a disadvantage. Who might you be?”

  “You first,” I said. “Who are you and why are you hiding out here watching Dearborn’s place?”

  “Give us the word, Boss, we can take him,” one of the other men said.

  “Now, boys, there’s no need. I’m sure we can have a reasonable conversation with this gentleman. He’s sneaking around out here at night just like we are, so my guess is we have similar goals in mind.”

  I’d give him credit for being sharp, that was for certain. “Your name?” I asked again.

  “Silas Devol. These are my men Avery Shaw and Clem Dillon.”

  “Those two I’ve met. You’re the gambler Beth owes money to.”

  “That’s right. Who are you?”

  “He’s the outlaw, Boss. That Collins fell
a.”

  “Why are you out here prowling around Dearborn’s place?” I asked, ignoring Dillon’s comment. I needed answers, and I needed to get to the house before Dawson caught up.

  “I’m going to put my hands down now, if you don’t mind,” Devol said.

  “Just keep them on your knees where I can see them.”

  They all did the same, lowering their hands, but placing them on their knees where I could keep them all in sight.

  “Very well. I’m not particularly fond of Mr. Dearborn, and when people cross me I tend to cross them back, if you catch my drift.”

  “I do. How did he cross you?”

  “He plans to marry Beth Caldwell tomorrow after your hanging. Mrs. Caldwell owes me money so I paid a visit to Dearborn to make him aware of the debt. He was, shall we say, less than receptive.”

  “What exactly are your plans for him? Why are you skulking around out here watching his house?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Did you see Beth in there?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and I had the feeling he was watching me and that despite the darkness he could see me quite well. I didn’t think this man missed much at all.

  “How’d you get out of jail?”

  “How isn’t as important as that I am. Now answer my question. Did you see Beth inside?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I suspect she’s not terribly excited about her impending nuptials. She certainly didn’t look like a woman in love. At least not with her intended. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her, but I had to wonder why she was even there.”

  She was in there because of me, and I needed to get inside fast if there was any hope of any of us getting out again. Maybe I could use these men somehow.

  “Since we’re both after Dearborn, maybe we can help each other.”

  “Perhaps. Before I agree to a partnership, I need to know what you want from Dearborn.”

  “Fair enough. I’m here because I want to rescue Beth.”

  “I heard you tried to kill Dearborn.”

  “I did.”

  “Change your mind about that, now?”

  His question caught me off guard. Had I changed my mind about wanting Dearborn dead? Perhaps, but really all I cared about was getting to Beth. My cold, determined drive to kill Dearborn had faded and been replaced by warm yearning for Beth. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but Beth had changed me, given me my life back. I hoped I had the chance to tell her what she’d done for me, and what she meant to me.