Gil glared at Clay and I could almost see a fissure opening between them. Good. Anything that isolated Clay made me happy. While Gil’s attention was on Clay, Isaac pinned him with a look of renewed loathing. I didn’t think Gil was much below Clay on Isaac’s revenge list.
Gil turned his attention to me. “Good enough?”
I nodded. “Silas? What do you have to play with?”
“I have plenty of money.”
“Okay. Good. What do you want?”
“I want to be paid what I’m owed.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “I have a gold mine and land. I can bet percentages of gold production and acres of land. What I want is for Isaac to be free, and to keep my land. Clay?”
He looked out for blood. Having never played against him, I didn’t know if that made his focus sharper, or if it made him careless. It may take a couple of hands before I figured him out.
“Like Silas, I have a lot of money.”
“Not good enough,” I said. “You want my land so it’s only fair you offer up some of yours to the pot. You can play acres. You can also offer up your part in Isaac’s freedom. You know the consequences if Gil puts that in the pot. If you win a hand with Gil’s offer for Isaac’s freedom in the pot, the outcome will be better for you. But you still have the power to free Isaac from hanging, and I want that in the pot.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll play money, acres, and Collins’s freedom. But I also want you to put your hand in marriage in the pot.”
“Why? You and possibly Isaac are the only two who’d want that. Why would you still want it?”
“I like the idea of having you as my wife, and I still want your land. If you’re my wife, it belongs to me.”
“Maybe Clay and Isaac aren’t the only ones playing who’d want you as their wife,” Silas said.
All eyes turned to him, and I cocked a questioning brow at him. “You want to marry me?”
“You’d be an asset on the circuit.”
Gil grinned. “This game just got even more interesting.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d have to play carefully. I didn’t want to marry anyone at that table other than Isaac.
I caught his eyes. “Isaac? What do you want?”
He held my gaze with an intensity that made the rest of the room fall away. “I want you.”
A shiver slid down my back. That was definitely on my wish list, too. I gave him a little nod, acknowledging his desires.
“After that, I want Dearborn to pay for framing me,” he added.
“And what do you have to put in the pot?”
His brows scrunched together and a shadow of doubt flickered in his eyes. “I don’t have any money, and I don’t have the power to give anyone anything.”
“You could put your life on the line,” Clay said. “I’d be happy to use you for target practice.”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “We will not play with each others’ lives.”
Isaac threw his hands up. “Then I have nothing.”
“You have bullets,” Silas said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Didn’t you used to be a gun for hire?”
“I don’t do that anymore,” Isaac said, his voice dark and haunted.
Silas shrugged. “If you want to play and you have nothing else to put up, you may have to take the risk. Play bullets for the chance to get what you want.”
Isaac dropped his head, studying the floor while he considered his options. I didn’t want him to be left with that choice. I didn’t know much about his past, other than he’d been a gunfighter for a while, but I had to assume it would hurt him to do it again. I had no idea how well he played poker, so he could very well be forced into it if he lost. But I also wanted him to be able to fight for himself and for us.
When his head came up again, he fixed his eyes on mine and kept my gaze steady. I wanted him to know I had faith in him no matter what happened, so I tipped my head in a tiny nod, just enough so he’d see I believed in him.
He broke eye contact with me and looked at Silas. “Fine. I’m in.”
“What about them?” Isaac said, waving a hand in the general direction of Avery and Summers.
“The two of you go stand guard out front. Don’t let anyone interrupt us,” Clay said.
Avery looked to Silas for confirmation. Silas gave him a nod. Gil did the same for Summers.
After they’d left, I grinned. “Okay, gentlemen, let’s play poker.”
Chapter Eighteen
~Beth~
After Reverend Miller said a few words for Clem’s soul, Silas and Avery hauled his body out to the front porch and covered it with a blanket. While they did that, Juanita cleared the table and I made sure I stayed between Clay and Isaac. We were both jittery and on edge, and I didn’t know how far our little truce could be pushed, so there was no need to have those two alone together. I’d suggested the poker game as a way to avoid them all slaughtering each other, but I worried if it was just a way to delay the inevitable.
Once we were seated at the table—Clay on one side of me, Isaac on the other, Silas and Gil across the table from me—both Silas and Clay produced decks of cards.
“I don’t trust a gambler’s cards,” Clay said.
There was a general murmur of agreement around the table, and I had to agree.
“You’ve certainly not proven yourself to be a paragon of trust, either,” Silas said. I’d noticed his vocabulary became more highbrow when he was piqued.
“We’re going to have to play with one of the decks, so we’ll examine them and choose the one everyone’s satisfied with,” I said.
Silas passed me his deck. “It’s not marked. I don’t need to play with a marked deck.”
He sniffed as if the very suggestion was an insult. I inspected the cards anyway, because I’d rather insult him than have him cheat. When you were a good gambler, people looked for reasons to explain it away. That was how reputations were built.
“This deck is clean,” I said.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take the word of a gambler’s widow,” Clay said.
I shrugged and snatched his deck. I was actually more suspicious of Clay’s deck. I assumed he’d be more likely to cheat because he wasn’t a professional and didn’t want to lose this game. A marked deck wasn’t the only way to cheat, but it was a good place to start.
I was surprised to find his deck unaltered, too.
I passed it to Silas. “It’s clean.”
Both decks went around the table and received approval.
I collected Silas’s deck and started shuffling.
“What are you doing?” Clay asked.
“Shuffling.”
“Why his deck? You think you’re going to deal first?”
“For criminy’s sake, Clay, calm down. Both decks are clean. It doesn’t matter which one we use. And someone’s got to deal first. It may as well be me. The game was my idea, after all.”
He grunted, but shut up.
I finished shuffling and handed him the deck to cut.
“Five-card draw okay with everyone?” I got no argument, so continued. “Okay then, everybody ante up. Reverend? Would you be so kind as to keep track of bets and winnings? Everyone agree to that?”
“I’d be happy to,” Reverend Miller said. Everyone else nodded or otherwise assented to the reverend’s trustworthiness to keep track of bets and winnings. Juanita brought him some paper and a pencil.
Nobody said a word, so I anted first. “I’ll put in one percent of the first year’s gold mine production.”
“One hundred dollars,” Silas said. That was generally a high bet, but low for this table, considering the value of everything we were betting.
“One hundred dollars,” Clay said. Seemed everyone would open the first hand cautiously.
“I’ll match that,” Gil said.
“One bullet,” Isaac said. That was the highest value bet on the table, and I could tell how hard it w
as for him to put it in the pot. If he could win a hand or two, he’d have some money to play with.
After everyone had anted, I dealt. We all considered our cards. I had a pair of jacks, and the rest was garbage. I watched everyone else sort their hands. I didn’t figure I’d learn anything from Silas, and I was right. He caught me watching him and winked, which didn’t help me at all. Gil looked like he’d just been served a steak that wasn’t cooked the way he’d asked, so I figured he didn’t have a horrible hand, but not great, either.
“Clay, your bet,” I said.
His brows came together as he considered his cards, then with a grunt he tossed his cards to the center of the table. “Check.”
I smiled to myself. He’d either been dealt a hand he liked, or he wanted to play it safe.
“Silas?”
“Call.” So he was in another hundred.
“Gil?”
“Call.” He was in another hundred, too, though I was pretty sure he was bluffing, and badly at that.
“Isaac?”
“Call.” I had to hope he got the cards he needed.
“Clay? You going to call or fold?”
“Call.”
“I call,” I said.
“Silas?” he tossed in one card and I dealt him another.
Gil tossed in two and I dealt him two new ones. His grimace told the story of his hand—and that he had a horrible poker face. Isaac tossed in one and I dealt to him. It was imperceptible, but I caught the disappointment in his eyes. Clay discarded two and I dealt him two new ones. He had a pretty good poker face, and I couldn’t tell if the cards helped him or not.
“I’ll take three,” I said.
My three new cards were more garbage, so I was left with a pair. Not a winning hand by a long shot.
“Bets, boys?”
“Raise another two hundred,” Silas said.
“Fold,” Clay said, looking unhappy about it.
“Fold,” Gil said, throwing his cards in disgust.
“Fold,” Isaac said, sliding his cards across the table.
“Guess that leaves you and me, Silas.” I smiled at him.
“Bet or fold, Beth.”
I looked him straight in the eye with bold confidence. “I’ll raise you another five percent of the gold mine.”
His eyes narrowed just a fraction. We’d never played each other, so he had no idea if I bluffed and if I did, how big. I didn’t usually bluff this big, but I didn’t want Isaac to owe Silas two bullet—two kills—so I had to do what I could to win the hand.
“Fold,” Silas said and mucked his cards. I figured the chances were good his hand was better than mine, and he knew it, so folding was an olive branch. Maybe, just maybe I had an ally in this game and we could work together.
I mucked my cards, too. I didn’t want everyone to know how big I’d bluffed. No need for them to have that kind of information just yet.
I handed the deck to Clay to shuffle and deal again. In my head I figured my winnings in that pot: five hundred plus Isaac’s two bullets.
“Ante up,” Clay said.
“And unless we want to be playing all night long, let’s start upping the ante some,” I said.
“Easy for you to say,” Gil said. “You just won five hundred.”
“I’ll bet two hundred,” Silas said.
Gil groaned but put in two hundred.
“One bullet,” Isaac said.
“He didn’t increase his bet,” Gil complained.
“His one bullet is worth a lot more than two hundred,” I said.
Silas nodded.
“Five acres,” I said. I didn’t want to risk any of my land, but I had to increase my ante just like everyone else, even though Clay was really the only one who wanted my land. I hoped that putting up acres would encourage him to risk more than money.
“Five acres,” Clay said.
Clay dealt, and Silas and I both watched him closely to be sure he didn’t cheat. I didn’t see any reason to complain. His deal looked legitimate. My hand was a pair of tens and three face cards. Not great.
“Call,” Silas said.
“Fold,” Gil said, quick to toss his cards in.
“Fold,” Isaac said.
I swallowed. “Call,” I said.
“Call,” Clay returned.
Silas tossed in two cards and received two from Clay. His face was like a rock, and I read nothing from it. Of course, I hadn’t expected to.
I tossed in a queen and a jack, hoping for something better, but got a three and a seven which left me with a ten pair, king high.
Clay tossed in three cards, which meant he probably had one pair, so I had to hope he didn’t draw a better hand.
“Devol?” Clay asked.
“Fold.”
That left me and Clay. I knew I couldn’t bluff him because he’d run up the pot as much as possible until I couldn’t stand it and folded. I hated to fold now and have Isaac owe Clay a kill, and give him ten of my acres. A pair of tens wasn’t a winning hand, unless he had a lower pair, and assuming he hadn’t drawn anything better. If I called, I was in fifteen acres.
On the other hand, if Clay won it would bolster his confidence. A confident Clay would bet higher, and the more he won the more he’d think he couldn’t lose, so he’d bet even bigger. I had to be patient and play the long game.
“Fold,” I said.
“That’s more like it,” he said, a smug grin on his face. “Juanita, bring some whiskey.”
~Isaac~
We played well into the night, and after Dearborn had a few whiskeys and a few winning hands under his belt, he was more obnoxious than normal. He acted like he couldn’t lose. I managed to win a couple of hands, which gave me some cash so I didn’t have to keep betting bullets. I mostly just tried not to lose every hand. There was no keeping up with the rest of them. Dawson wasn’t a great player and was down to almost nothing a couple of times, but the more I paid attention to what was going on underneath the actual game, I could have sworn Beth and Devol were working the table, turning the hands however they wanted them to go. When Dawson got too low, a couple of hands later, he’d win enough to keep playing. Same if I started running out of cash, or if I had to bet a bullet, either Beth or Silas won it, aside from the one Dearborn won.
Round about three in the morning, Dearborn said, “I think it’s time to up the ante. We’ve got a hanging scheduled for a few hours from now. We should probably play to see if that’s actually going to happen.”
Beth glared at him, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. His goal was to rile me and despite ignoring him, the reminder made my stomach sink. There was no way I’d go willingly no matter the outcome of the game.
“Fine, then, Clay, why don’t you just ante up with that—Isaac’s freedom goes in the pot,” Beth said.
“If you put yourself in the pot,” Clay said.
“Now this is some interesting poker,” Silas said. “I’ve got eight percent of Beth’s mine, so I’ll put that in the pot.”
“All I’ve got is cash,” Gil said.
“You’ve got Collins’s freedom, too,” Clay said. “Throw that in the pot.”
“Seems redundant if it’s already in there,” Silas said.
“I’ll put in five hundred,” Gil said.
He didn’t have much more than that, so he was taking a big chance playing it.
“Two bullets,” I said.
It was Silas’s turn to deal. When he was done, I held a seven, ten, jack, queen, king, all different suits. If I was lucky, I could throw in the seven and draw a nine or an ace, but that was a big risk.
“Gil?” Silas asked.
“Fold.”
“Five hundred,” I said, playing most of the cash I had left.
“Call,” Beth said.
“Call,” Clay said.
Silas folded. I turned in my one card and Silas dealt me a nine, giving me a straight, king high.
Beth traded out one card.
�
�I don’t need any cards,” Clay said, triumph in his voice.
“Isaac? You still in?”
Clay wasn’t much for bluffing, hadn’t been all night. He pretty much played straight poker, so if he was that confident, he likely had a hand better than a straight. I wasn’t very good at bluffing, but if any time called for a bluff, now was it. My life was in the pot, so I either had to bluff for it, or hope Beth had a better hand than Clay. I wanted more than anything to get a look at her face, but all eyes were on me, waiting for an answer, and checking the other players’ expressions would only show weakness. If I pushed the bet up any higher and both Beth and I lost, Dearborn would be in that much better shape.
It hurt, but I folded.
“Beth?”
“Ten acres.”
Dearborn cocked an eyebrow and gave her an arrogant smirk. “You sure about that, darlin’?”
“I’m sure,” she said. I couldn’t see her face since she faced him on her other side. “Are you still in?”
“You bet I am. I’ll see your ten acres and raise you another ten.”
“I’ll call your ten.”
“Any more bets, Dearborn?” Devol asked.
Dearborn frowned as he considered Beth. He watched her for a full minute. I still couldn’t see her face, but I had to think she didn’t give anything away since Dearborn’s frown just deepened.
“You’re bluffing,” he finally said.
“Show your cards and you’ll find out,” Beth said. Her voice was solid with confidence.
“Fine,” Dearborn said, laying his cards on the table. “Full house.”
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over chest and grinning his certainty that he’d won.
“Congratulations on a good hand, Clay,” Beth said.
“I knew you were bluffing. Now we can put this little game behind us and get on with things.”
“Not so fast,” Beth said and laid down her cards. “I’ve got four of a kind. That beats a full house.”
My heart stuttered a few beats. Had Beth really just won my freedom?
“What?” Dearborn shot forward and slammed his hands on the table. “You can’t beat me. You had to have cheated.”
Gambling on the Outlaw Page 24