Gambling on Love

by Sandi Hampton

  He hiccupped loudly. “Hello, Angel. Hey, Sam—” He gestured at the bartender. “Bring me a drink.”

  “Yessir, Mr. Grayson.”

  She shuffled the cards. “Feeling lucky tonight?”

  He nodded. “Yep.” Sam handed him a glass of whiskey, and Thaddeus gulped it down. “Bring me another.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Grayson.” Sam hurried back to the bar and quickly returned with another glass of the amber liquid.

  “You all right, Mr. Grayson?” she asked, trying to appear concerned. “You seem a mite—”

  “Excited? Well, you’re right, honey. I’m excited.”

  “How come?”

  He shook his head. A smug smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

  Her pulse raced. “Oh, come now, you can tell little ole me. I can keep my mouth shut.”

  He wagged his finger at her. “Can’t tell you, but I’m gonna have a lot of money—real soon.”

  “I thought you were already rich.”

  His gray brows furrowed together. “No. She done spent most of it.”

  “Who? Your wife?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s too bad. How long you been married, honey?” She motioned for Sam to bring Grayson another drink. Liquor had definitely loosened his tongue. She had to keep him talking.

  “Too damned long,” he retorted and leaned closer to her, “but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  She laughed. “Nary a word, honey. Your wife, she seems a little straight-laced.”

  “And too damned bossy. She thinks—” He hiccupped again—loudly. “—she’s smarter than me.”

  “Of all the nerve.” Come on, Thaddeus, talk to me. Talk to me.

  “But I’m gonna show her.”

  “Good for you. Don’t let her walk all over you. So tell me, what are you going to do?”

  “Secret. It’s a secret.” He rose to his feet. “Gotta go.”

  “Aw, come on, honey. It’s early yet.” Despite her revulsion, Angel smiled seductively at him and leaned over to give him a better view of her cleavage. “Stay a little while. You might just be real lucky tonight.”

  His eyes widened as he stared down her gown. “All right. Maybe a little longer.” He gulped down another glass of whiskey, then motioned her closer. “I’m gonna send Vera back east. Soon.” He lifted a bushy eyebrow, and she knew what he was suggesting.

  “That right? And does she want to go?”

  “Don’t matter. She don’t have no choice.”

  “You know, I was thinking of leaving Deadwood myself and heading down to Kansas,” she said as she dealt the cards. “I lived there a while. Still got some relatives there.”

  Grayson stared at her, a curious glint in his eyes. Sly as a fox. Drunk as a skunk and yet his guard is up immediately. Better not underestimate him. “Got relatives there, huh?”

  “Yeah. An elderly aunt and uncle. I stayed with them for a while. A long time ago.”

  “Whereabouts?”

  “Down around Dodge City. You know, there was a man there who could be your twin. Looked just like you. I can’t remember his name.” She drummed her fingertips on the table. “I’ll think of it. I’m good with names.”

  “Ain’t got no twin—and never been to Dodge City.” He picked up his cards, took one look at them and threw them down in disgust. “I can see I ain’t gonna have no luck tonight.” He staggered to his feet. “I gotta go...you know...” He lurched across the floor and out the door.

  So you’re planning something? Something that will make you rich? A robbery perhaps?

  ****

  Evan scanned the faces in the smoke-filled saloon. Angel was setting up her table, and Thaddeus was perched on a stool in front of her. And she was fawning all over him. His hands clenched into fists. He wished this damned business was over and done with so he could get her out of this place. From the other blackjack table, Rick nodded at him, and Evan touched his finger to the brim of his hat.

  The poker tables were crowded. There wasn’t an empty seat to be had. Drat it, he’d wanted to try his luck against Hickok who sat at the table nearest Angel. Something looked awry, but what? Then it hit him. Hickok sat with his back to the saloon door—something the famed lawman never did.

  Evan sauntered over to the bar, turned his back, and leaned against it, then propped his elbows on the rail. From his vantage point, he could see everyone in the saloon. It appeared to be a quiet afternoon. He could only pray it would stay that way.

  “You want a drink, Montgomery?”

  He glanced at the bartender. “Give me a beer, Sam.” The delightful sound of Angel’s laughter caught his attention, and he turned to watch her. The glow of the lamp caught her hair, making it look like it was on fire. Her face was flushed. She was gorgeous—and she was his.

  And she carried his child. He wanted to scream the news to everyone, to tell Chad he’d soon have a nephew, and to let everyone in town know. He was so sure it’d be a son that he’d already picked out a name. Robert Montgomery. After his father.

  A jab of jealousy struck him. The soon mother-to-be of his son smiled seductively at Grayson. Even though he knew of her deception, he couldn’t tamp down his feelings. His lips tightened into a frown. Maybe he should join them. At that moment Grayson staggered to his feet and stumbled out the door. He met her gaze, and she nodded almost slightly. She’d learned something.

  The saloon doors swung open, and a man stalked into the room. Evan recognized him as Jack McCall, or Broken Nose McCall, as some folks called him. McCall marched over to the bar and leaned against it, shifting from one foot to the other. He ordered a whiskey and gulped it down.

  After a few minutes, McCall walked over and stood behind Hickok. Evan decided McCall was merely watching the poker game, so he turned his attention back to Angel. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw McCall draw his gun and aim it at the back of Hickok’s head. Before he could call out a warning, McCall yelled “Damn you, take that,” and pulled the trigger.

  The sharp retort of the gunshot filled the air. A scream followed, Angel’s scream. A quick glance at her told him she was unhurt—just horrified. Hickok slumped to the floor, his head covered with blood. Evan knew he was dead, had probably been dead when he hit the floor. McCall raced out the back door.

  He rushed over to kneel beside the body. A close look confirmed what he already knew.

  “Somebody get Doc Pierce from over to Flaherty’s barber shop,” Carl Mann yelled, and a cowboy rushed from the saloon.

  “Find McCall,” Evan yelled and pointed at the gawking onlookers. They rushed out the door, and he hurried to Angel’s side. She looked to be on the edge of hysteria. Her face was ashen, and her eyes mirrored her horror. He cursed himself. He should never have given in to her and allowed her to work here. She shouldn’t have had to witness such a heinous crime. “Honey, sit down, before you fall down.”

  “Is he—?”

  “Yeah. He’s dead.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh, Evan, how horrible. That man just walked up and shot him. It was cold-blooded murder.”

  “I tried to tell you things were different out here. Now, come on. I’m going to take you out of here.”

  From the huddled men came a shout. “Someone fetch Colorado Charlie. He was best friends to Hickok.” A man took off running.

  “Come on, honey. I’ll take you to your room.” She didn’t argue but allowed herself to be led from the saloon and down the street. “Angel, you’re not going back there.” Fear for her safety made his voice cold and hard. “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, I hear you,” she said in a small voice.

  “You could have been hurt—or the baby.” He stopped walking and pulled her into his embrace. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

  She stared up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I was supposed to deal at Hickok’s table tonight, but Mr. Mann changed his mind at the last mi
nute.”

  “It’s all right, darling.”

  “I knew something was going to happen. I heard...the owl.”

  “The owl?”

  “Yeah.” She swiped her hand across her eyes. “Oh, Evan, I never want to go back there. Ever again.”

  “And you won’t, my love.”

  In minutes, the boarding house came into view. He led her up the stairs to her room. “Get your things, honey. You’re coming home with me. To the ranch.”

  “Oh, Evan, not tonight. I’m so upset and tired. I don’t feel like making that long ride now. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Mr. Mann I quit and then pack up and go to the ranch.”

  He took in her pale features and pinched lips. She did look exhausted. “All right. But, promise me, you won’t leave this room tonight.”

  “I promise.”

  After making sure she was safely abed, he headed back to the saloon. As he entered, he saw Colorado Charlie. “Hey, Charlie, sorry about your friend.”

  “You see it happen, Evan?”

  “Yeah, but it happened so fast I didn’t have time to stop it.”

  “McCall will pay dearly for this. The boys done caught that bastard. He’s under guard. A meeting is gonna be held at McDaniels’ Theater later.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. I’m gonna write out a funeral notice. Will you take it over to the newspaper for me?”

  “Sure, Charlie.”

  Charlie went to find a pencil and paper and in a few minutes handed him the notice. It read:

  Died, in Deadwood, Black Hills, August 2, 1876, from the effects of a pistol shot, J.B. Hickok (Wild Bill) formerly of Cheyenne, Wyoming.

  Funeral services will be held at Charlie Utter’s camp, on Thursday afternoon, August 3, 1876, at 3 o’clock, p.m.

  All are respectfully invited to attend.

  Evan folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. “I’ll take care of it, Charlie. Don’t you worry.”

  By the time he returned, everyone had adjourned to the theater building. About a hundred citizens had gathered, and Evan joined them there. Judge Kuykendall presided, and Isaac Brown was elected sheriff. One deputy and twelve guards were appointed.

  “Trial will begin at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” Judge Kuykendall announced, “and I want to make sure everyone gets notice, including the miners of Whitewood and Deadwood mining districts.”

  The crowd emptied into the street. As much as Evan wanted to go to Angel, he knew she needed her rest. Tomorrow, he’d take her home.

  ****

  Angel lit the lamp with trembling hands, then blew out the match. She poured herself a glass of water and sipped it. The murder she’d just witnessed played over and over again in her mind, like a bad dream. The horror, the blood, the grisly sight would stay with her for a long time. Hickok’s premonition had been right. Deadwood had been his last camp.

  She undressed, tossed her gown on the chair, and walked over to the chest of drawers for her nightgown. Something looked...wrong. Some of her clothing stuck out of the drawer. That wasn’t the way she’d left it this afternoon. She always tidied up the room before she went to work.

  She scanned the room to see if anything else was out of place. Her comb and brush had been moved and gowns drooped from their hangers. Someone had searched her room.

  The wanted poster.

  She darted to the bedside table and jerked the drawer open. It was gone. The only evidence that Thaddeus Grayson and Bob Larson were one and the same was gone. Oh, why hadn’t she hidden it better? Or given it to Evan for safe keeping?

  Her chest constricted. The intruder must have entered as Evan had—by the window. An examination confirmed her suspicions. Would the intruder be back?

  I need to find Evan. But where is he?

  And whoever had done this might be waiting for her out there. She’d wait for Evan to come to her. She found her gun, pulled the chair to the window and waited for daylight.

  The next morning, despite her exhaustion, she plodded down the street to the bank. She’d made enough at the saloon to repay Amelia and to put some back for herself. Even if she did marry Evan, she didn’t want to saddle him with her debts. She’d carry her own weight.

  Evan hadn’t returned last night. She’d been so overwrought that she’d forgotten to tell him about her conversation with Grayson. That scoundrel was up to no good.

  When she entered the bank, she saw Vera at Mr. Simpson’s desk. The woman stared at her as she walked up to the teller. After transacting her business, she glanced over at the desk. Vera was gone. But when Angel opened the door to leave, the stern-faced woman accosted her. “Miss Devereaux, I’d like a word with you.”

  Taken aback, Angel halted. “With me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m sure you know who I am.” The woman peered down her long nose at Angel.

  “Yes, of course. You’re Mrs. Grayson.”

  The woman grabbed her elbow and steered her down the street. Vera’s touch raised goose pimples on Angel’s arm, and she pulled free.

  “My husband, when he’s drinking, talks a lot. He has delusions of grandeur, and he exaggerates about everything.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Angel met the woman’s cold stare and was again reminded of a rattlesnake. Waiting to strike.

  “Oh, Thaddeus got drunk last night, as you well know—”

  “That’s what men go to a saloon for—to play cards and drink liquor.”

  “What did he tell you last night, Miss Devereaux?”

  “Why, nothing. We just made small talk.” She tried to appear innocent as she related their conversation about Kansas.

  “I see. Well, you’re mistaken. We’ve never been to Kansas. I’m sure you meet a lot of men in your...profession, and it must be hard to remember all their faces.”

  Angel let that snide remark slide off her. She had to appear addle-brained to Vera. She pasted a stupid smile on her face. “You’re right there.”

  “A word of warning, Miss Devereaux. Stay away from my husband.” With that thinly-veiled threat, Vera turned and marched down the sidewalk, her back as straight as a ramrod.

  Angel watched her go. That woman didn’t have one ounce of feeling inside her. What a shrew. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Thaddeus.

  Almost. But not quite.

  She made her way down the street to the hotel for breakfast. Every muscle in her body ached from spending the night in the chair. Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead. The town was abuzz with talk of the murder of Wild Bill Hickok and his funeral this afternoon.

  After seating herself at a table, she ordered bacon, eggs, and coffee, then changed it to milk. She needed to take better care of herself—for the baby. She glanced around the room and saw Mary sitting at a table by the window. An older man with gray hair at his temples sat across from her. Mary caught her gaze and smiled. She said something to the man, then rose and walked over to Angel’s table. “Hello. I’ve been so worried about you. May I join you?”

  “Sure. Have a seat.”

  “How are you, Angel?”

  She took one look at Mary’s concerned face and was tempted to confide in her. How nice it would be to have a woman friend to share confidences. She missed Amelia terribly. But if she did confide in Mary, it might put her in danger. It was best to leave things as they were. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re looking a mite pale.” Mary nodded toward the man, her face flushing a deep red, “Charlie was just telling me about last night and what happened to Mr. Hickok. Were you there when it happened?”

  “Yes. I was there.” Angel shuddered at the remembered horror.

  “It must have been dreadful for you.”

  “Yes, it was just awful. I’ve decided not to go back there.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad. I hated you working at that place, and I know Evan did too.”

  Mary’s concern seemed genuine, and Angel smiled her thanks. “It wasn’t what it appeare
d to be. I had my reasons. Good reasons.”

  “I’m sure you did. I know it seems strange,” Mary continued, “but despite all that’s happened, I like you and I hope you and I can be friends.”

  “I hope so, too, but I have to confess that I’ve doubted your sincerity. Had the tables been turned, I’d have hated your guts.”

  Mary laughed. “You and Evan are perfect for each other. You give back as good as you get. Charles there is gentle and soft-spoken, and I’m happy with him. I feel at ease. I never knew what to expect with Evan. So, you see, it was meant to be. Now, come and let me introduce you to Charles.”

  After meeting Charles, whom she liked instantly, Angel returned to her table. To her surprise, Mary followed her. “Ah, Angel, are you going out to the ranch now? Evan’s ranch?”

  “No, not now. I’m going back to my room and rest until Evan comes for me.”

  “That’s a great idea. You’re staying at the boarding house, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  As Mary returned to her table, suspicions surfaced. Why did Mary want to know where she was staying? Probably just curious.

  She finished her breakfast. All around the dining room, she could hear everyone talking about what had happened at the saloon.

  “They’ve got McCall down at McDaniels’ Theater. Going to use that theater for the trial.”

  “He said he done it ’cuz Bill killed his brother.”

  “They’re taking the body to Colorado Charley’s camp. Going to lay him to rest at three o’clock.”

  “He was holding aces and eights. Some folks are calling that a dead man’s hand.”

  Her head ached from lack of sleep. She fisted her hands and pressed them to her eyes. She was almost ready to call it quits and let Thaddeus, or Larson, go his way, and she’d go hers. To Evan and her baby.

  After paying her tab, she headed for the saloon to give her notice. Carl Mann took it in stride. “I understand, and I don’t hold no grudges. Seeing Hickok murdered last night wasn’t a pretty sight. For anybody. You just let me know what I owe you.”