Gambling on Love

by Sandi Hampton

  Didn’t he?

  He broke free of the kiss, then rolled off her and pushed himself to his feet. A look of surprise flitted across her face. Or was it disappointment? At that moment he hated himself. Hated himself for wanting the Lady Gambler so much, and hated himself for betraying Mary. “Get up.”

  She sat up and slowly climbed to her feet. She looked so forlorn, like an insecure little girl, that for a moment he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He hardened his heart to her. She was a liar, and a thief as well.

  And she’d stolen his heart.

  No, no, no. He’d control what he felt. Like he always did. Like he controlled his ranch. Like he controlled his younger brother Chad. And like he controlled Mary.

  Hellfire, right now he felt totally out of control—and it angered him.

  “Get going.” He pointed toward the camp. She walked that way, and he followed, looking over her head, to the right, to the left, anywhere but at her. When they arrived, he faced her. “Get some dry clothes on.”

  “Turn your head,” she said, her voice low.

  “I don’t think so. I tried to be a gentleman before and look what it got me.”

  She didn’t move. “Surely you’re joking. You can’t expect me to undress in front of you?”

  “You want me to do it for you?” He quirked an eyebrow at her and laughed to himself as she struggled to stay calm.

  She shook her head.

  “Good. Get your clothes.” He watched as she walked over to her saddle bag and pulled out another shirt and pants, then turned to glare at him.

  She took off her boots, then unbuttoned her shirt. Even from this distance, he could see her fingers tremble. Slowly, the shirt slipped from her shoulders and down the slope of her breasts. The wet camisole underneath did little to hide those beautiful mounds. The shirt fell in a sodden mass at her feet.

  When her hands went to the waist of her pants, his breathing grew rougher. Suddenly, his shirt was too tight around his neck, and he tugged at the collar.

  She tugged the wet pants over her hips, then stepped out of them. Finally, she stood nude before him. Her skin looked like wet satin, the gentle flare of her hips enticing, the coral tips of her breasts straining against the thin fabric of her camisole. He tried to ignore the throbbing in his groin.

  He ran his gaze down the length of her, wanting to embarrass her and humiliate her as she had done him. He kept his face blank, or at least he tried to. Her face was as red as roses, but she notched her chin up. She stepped into the dry pants, tugged them up to her waist and fastened them. Slowly, she pulled the camisole over her head, and he feasted his eyes on her breasts. A feeling he couldn’t quite name gut-punched him in the chest.

  “Well?” she said as she placed her hands on her hips.

  “Well what?”

  “You’ve had your fun. What now?”

  “Get over by the fire and sit down. And stay there.” She obeyed, easing herself down on the ground where she sat cross-legged, her back rigid, her lips pinched into a thin line. Her poker face, he reckoned, and it was a good one. He had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, and he didn’t care.

  At least that’s what he told himself.

  He knelt before her. “Now let me look at your hand.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it into his lap. As he gently unwrapped the bandage, a grimace tugged the corners of her mouth down. When he saw the condition of her hand, he muttered a curse. “For the love of... I warned you about this, you stubborn spitfire.”

  She tried to pull her hand away. “Just leave it alone. I’ll put some more of Eleeza’s healing herbs on it.”

  “Well, those miracle herbs haven’t healed it yet, have they? I’m going to have to lance it and let the poison drain out. It’s going to hurt, but I’ve got to do it. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I guess so.”

  He pulled her knife from under his belt and stuck the tip in the hot coals. He glanced up and saw her face pale. Quickly, before she had time to think too long, he slit the top of her hand. She screamed. Then, mercifully, she fainted against him. He held her hand tightly, allowing the infection to drain. He found the thorn, extracted it, and wrapped her hand in a clean cloth. Gently, he lowered her to the ground, cradling her body against his.

  Somehow, this woman had cast a spell over him. He had to put distance between them to have any chance of getting out from under it, and he still had to tell her about her father.

  When at last she awakened, her face still ashen, he helped her sit up. “How do you feel?”

  “Like someone stuck a red-hot knife into my hand.”

  “You should have let me look at that sooner.”

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. I guess I owe you for now and for saving me from the snake. Thanks.”

  “Look, Angel, this has gone far enough. There’s a small settlement a few days ride from here. When we get there, you go your way, and I’ll go mine. Agreed?”

  Confusion masked her face. She studied him as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth. “What about the bet?”

  “We’ll just forget it. Let’s just get on with our lives. What do you say?”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Okay.”

  “Good.” He marched over and squatted down beside the fire across from her. “But first I need to tell you something—”

  She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. Shocked, Evan rocked back on his heels. “What the hell is wrong with you? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “I...do...” She hiccupped loudly.

  “Then, for God’s sake, why are you crying?”

  “I don’t know.” She wailed louder.

  “Then stop it. I can’t bear a crying woman.” He rose and stomped off, muttering under his breath about crazy females.

  ****

  As he marched off, Angel’s tears flowed even harder. What in tarnation was wrong with her? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Now she was free to go on to Deadwood to find her father or to go home to Grandpapa and Eleeza and the Delta Princess. Her life aboard the riverboat seemed to be a dream she’d lived so long ago—in another life. The harsh but beautiful never-ending prairie was now her reality.

  She forced herself to stop crying. Crying never solved anything. She stood and walked over to Royal Flush and untied her bedroll. After positioning it near the fire, she crawled under the blanket and stared at the stars in the vast ebony sky. If being free of Evan Montgomery was what she wanted, had wanted for weeks now, why did she feel so...unhappy? So...disappointed?

  Footsteps approached, and Angel peered through the shadows. When Evan neared, she saw her rifle in his hand. He must have gone back to the river to get it. She pulled her blanket up under her chin. His footsteps stopped right by her bedroll. What would he do? Would he kiss her again? Make her come alive under his hand? His mouth?

  But he walked away and dashed her hopes.

  Hopes? Then it hit her. Like a gut punch, it took her breath away. She was in love with Evan Montgomery. When and how had it happened? What did she do now? He cared nothing for her. Oh, yes, he wanted her body, as she wanted his, but that was all. He no longer even wanted revenge on her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing thoughts of him to a corner of her mind, willing sleep to come. From somewhere in the distance, she heard the soft hoot of an owl. Eleeza’s spirit bird. Twice before, it had warned her of danger. Was it warning her now not to love Evan, that it would only mean heartbreak? She choked back a second onslaught of tears. Dammit, she’d never cried this much in her whole life.

  She heard Evan move and sneaked a peek at him. He fed the fire with dried buffalo dung, then sat down beside it. He positioned a small mirror on a stump and proceeded to shave the dark stubble of several days’ growth of beard. Mesmerized, she could only stare at him. When he was through, he emptied the soapy water onto the ground, then wiped his face. In a few moments, he spread his blanket next to the fire. He sat t
here for a long time, then leaned back against his saddle and pulled his hat down over his eyes. He twisted and turned for a few moments.

  What was he thinking? Was he, like her, so wrapped up in his emotions that he couldn’t sleep? Or was he so relieved that he’d soon be rid of her that he now slept soundly?

  Then he turned over. Their gazes met and locked. Embarrassed that he’d caught her staring, Angel broke eye contact and flounced over on her side to face the opposite way. In a few minutes, she heard Evan’s snores and knew he’d dismissed her from his thoughts.

  Her gut twisted into knots, and she slipped back in time. Years ago Thomas Jamison, III, had invited her to a ball at his mansion, and his mother had refused to let the riverboat “trash” attend. She’d never thought she could feel worse than she had at that time. But she did. Right now. She willed herself to go to sleep.

  When morning broke, Evan was nowhere in sight. Neither was his horse. A quick glance showed Royal Flush and the pack mule grazing nearby. But the rifle was gone. She tossed her blanket aside, rose to her feet and stretched. Even after all this time on the trail, her muscles still ached from sleeping on the hard ground. The smell of coffee drew her to the fire, and she poured herself a cup of the steaming liquid. If Evan had indeed left her, he’d been nice enough to make coffee for her. It didn’t quite make sense.

  The sound of horse hooves broke the morning stillness, and she glanced up to see Evan ride into the camp. The look on his face said something wasn’t right. He pulled Buck to a halt in a swirl of dust, then jumped from the saddle. “We need to get out of here pronto, Angel.”

  Was he that anxious to be done with her? “Why?”

  “Indian sign. Sioux most likely. About ten or twelve of them. I don’t want to run into them.”

  Indians? The very thought spurred Angel into action. After hurriedly attending to her body’s needs, she doused the fire and packed the utensils while Evan saddled her horse. She folded her blanket and handed it to him. Her hand touched his, sending shock waves throughout her body. She jerked it back as if his touch had burned her flesh. His gaze focused on her lips. Almost involuntarily, she licked them. His blue eyes darkened. After a moment, he turned and tied her bedroll on the saddle.

  The moment gone, she mounted Royal Flush as he climbed into his saddle. She followed him from the ravine out onto the prairie, all the while nervously scanning the area for Indians. She pulled up beside Evan. “I don’t see any Indians.”

  “And you never will—until they want you to see them, and then it’s too late.”

  “Will they attack us?”

  “Probably. Unless they’re on the run themselves from the Army. If not, they may come after us. They might want to have some fun with us before they—”

  “Fun?”

  “Their idea of fun—” He chuckled, but there was no mirth in his voice. “—not mine. Put your hat on. A Sioux brave would love to have your hair on his war lance. I don’t want anyone knowing you’re a woman.”

  She obeyed, tucking her long hair under the floppy-brimmed hat.

  They rode along side by side, each one watching...watching. The distant hills loomed closer, black against the brilliant blue sky. Evan pointed at them. “There they are. The Black Hills. Paha sapa.”

  “Sacred ground,” she murmured. “Are they really black?”

  “No. They just appear that way. It’s the ponderosa pine. The dark green looks black from a distance.”

  “Paha sapa.” She rolled the words around on her tongue. “How long before we reach them?”

  “Three, four days.”

  A smug smile touched her lips. “We made it. Soon I’ll see my father—”

  “Listen, Angel, I need to talk to you about—”

  “About what?”

  At that moment, he reined in his horse and stared off somewhere to her right. She followed his line of vision, then cried out in alarm. A line of mounted Indians sat along the ridge like dark paper cutouts against the sunlit sky. She sucked in a deep breath. “Ohmigod, Evan, what do we do?”

  “Just keep riding as if they’re not there.”

  “But—”

  “Just do as I say.” His sharp words stilled her tongue. “We’ll know soon enough if they mean us any harm. If I say ride, you take off that way.” He nodded toward the Black Hills. “No matter what happens, don’t stop and don’t look back. You understand?”

  “Yes. But what are you going to do?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Do as I say.”

  Angel nodded, then glanced again at the ridge. They still sat there, like statues. At that moment, the brave on the end raised his lance. Its feathers fluttered in the wind. Then he gave a loud whoop and spurred his horse forward. The other braves did the same.

  “Ride,” Evan yelled and slapped her horse’s rump. Royal Flush bolted forward.

  Chapter 7

  Angel leaned low over the horse’s neck and clenched her hands in the coarse hair of the mare’s mane. The wind stung her eyes, and she jerked her hat down lower on her forehead. The war whoops behind her grew louder. Despite her promise, she risked a glance over her shoulder. Evan rode close behind her, the pack mule in tow, slowing him down. When he saw her look back, he yelled and waved frantically at her, but the wind took his words.

  Ahead, the prairie rose sharply. Royal Flush’s pace slowed as she labored up the steep grade. As Angel crested the rise, she reined the horse in sharply. Below her, the earth moved in undulating brown waves. The earth shuddered and shook. Then she heard it—a rumbling deep in the ground. A herd of buffalo lumbered up the rise toward her.

  “Why are you stopping?” Evan cried as he pulled up alongside her. “Keep moving.”

  She pointed to the stampeding animals. “There must be hundreds of them. Thousands.”

  Evan let out a loud hurrah. “That should slow our friends down. Come on, Angel, follow me.” He spurred his horse straight at the charging herd, the pack mule in tow.

  “What are you doing?” she yelled. “Are you crazy?”

  “It’s the buffalo—or the Indians.”

  The decision was easy to make. “Wait. Don’t leave me behind.” Angel dug her heels into Royal Flush’s sides and followed close behind Evan as he cut a swatch through the thundering herd. The buffalo crowded around her, so close she could see the whites of their eyes and hear their snorts. Now she understood what Evan was doing. He was going to use the maddened animals to try to escape the Indians.

  Royal Flush didn’t like the idea of being in the middle of these dangerous creatures any more than Angel did. The mare’s eyes rolled back, and several times she tried to rear but could not. One monstrous buffalo came up close to them. His horn caught the mare’s leg and cut a big gash. The horse screamed as her leg folded under her.

  Angel fought to stay in the saddle. Suddenly, someone grabbed her around the waist. Evan pulled her up in front of him, his strong arms circling her like bands of iron.

  “Hold on tight,” he yelled.

  “But Evan, Royal Flush—”

  “It’s too late, Angel. We can’t save her now. We have to save ourselves.” He angled his horse toward the outside edge of the herd, fighting against the flow of the stampeding animals. For what seemed like hours, they fought to break free. Finally, they did, and Evan reined in his horse.

  “Are you all right, Angel? You’re not hurt?”

  She whirled around to face him. “No. Just my…beautiful…horse.” She started shaking and could not stop.

  “I’m sorry, honey. There was nothing I could do. And right now while we’ve got a little bit of a head start on our friends, we’ve got to—”

  “No, Evan, I can’t leave her like that. I need to bury her so that the animals won’t—”

  “Angel, we can’t. I’m sorry. You know I would if I could, don’t you?”

  “Yes, yes, I guess so.” She swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “What about the mule?”

  “I lost him. No te
lling where he is by now.” He pointed upward. “It’s going to rain soon. Should wash out our tracks.”

  She glanced at the sky. “How do you know it’s going to rain? I don’t see any clouds.”

  “I just know, that’s all. You can feel it in the air.” He spurred his mount forward toward the foothills. “Let’s go.”

  True to his words, late that afternoon, angry gray clouds loomed over them and threatened to dump its burden on the earth below. The wind blustered around them, and Evan urged his horse faster. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky with spidery fingers of light while thunder crackled around them.

  The unforgiving sky parted, and fat drops of rain pelted them. It must have happened much like this when Moses parted the Red Sea. The air felt alive, and dangerous, and the sky seemed to press down upon them.

  He leaned closer to her. “I don’t think the Sioux are following us. They’re probably holed up out of the storm, so I think it’s safe to stop. There’s a cave not far from here. It’s out of the way, but it’ll protect us from the weather. We’ll head for it and ride the storm out there.”

  “Okay.”

  Evan turned Buck down into a ravine. His arms tightened around her. Despite the cold, punishing rain and the threatening weather, she felt protected in his embrace. To her amazement, she liked that feeling, and he had called her...honey?

  An hour later, Evan halted his horse in front of a barely visible opening in the hillside. “This is it.” He slid from the saddle and handed the reins to her. “Stay here a minute.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s all right. I’m just going to take a look around.”

  “Let me go with you. It’s starting to rain harder.” She squared around to look at him. Water dripped from his hair onto his face. He hitched his collar up around his neck.

  “Just stay here, Angel. Until I come for you. Keep a firm hold on the reins. Understand?”

  “Yes, yes, I will.”