by Rita Hestand
The Filly & the Gambler
(Book Fifteen of Brides of the West Series)
By Rita Hestand
Copyright © 2013 by: Rita Hestand
ISBN # 9781370880850
Cover Design: Sheri McGathey
Legal Note
This book The Filly & the Gambler is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be copied or reproduced in any manner without express written permission of the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy or copies. If you did not purchase this book or it was not purchased for your use, please go to Smashwords.com to purchase your personal copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The Filly & the Gambler is a work of fiction. Though some of the cities and towns actually exist they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any names or characteristics similar to any person past, present or future are coincidental.
Books in this Series
Heart of a Family
Delivering the Bride
Heart of a Woman
Wanted: Bride
This Side of Forever
Shotgun Bride
A Love as Big as Texas
Heart of a Captive
Wherever My Heart Roams
In the Arms of an Angel
Bride from Shenandoah
Falling for the Bride
An Unexpected Welcome
A Desperado's Bride
The Filly & The Gambler
The Lady Train
Comes a Hero
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to my children and grandchildren as they have had so much patience with me as I spend a lot of time at the computer. Hope the readers enjoy this one and there should be at least five more books to the series.
God Bless
Rita Hestand
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
About the Author
Rita's Other Books
East of Pecos, Texas
1872
Chapter One
"I think you are bluffing, so you gonna call my bet?" Cole Martin stared steely eyed at ole Harmon Gibson who folded his lips over his toothless mouth and snickered as though he knew something no one else did. "Well, what are you gonna do? You gonna bet on that sure hand, you're holding?"
Snickers went around the table.
The saloon was bustling with people. The piano player was ripping the keys with a lively tune. Polly the dance hall girl that Cole favored, stood close behind him watching.
Smoke swirled in little rings throughout the saloon, and whiskey perfumed the air.
Five men sat at the poker table, three of them folded.
It was now between Cole and Harmon. Cole was enjoying this game more than most. Ole Harmon rarely had a good hand, and to see his face lit up like it was right now was worth almost any price.
"I raised you twenty, are you gonna call or what?" Cole asked amused that the old man was feeling the winning hand before he ever called Cole. Strangely for his sake, Cole hoped he did have the winning hand. Poor ole Harman never won a game as long as Cole knew him. But he played every Saturday like clockwork.
He reared back in his chair, on its hind legs, his thin old body wiry now. "Tell you what I'll do, I'll bet my little filly. She's worth every bit of the twenty you bet. How's that?"
"A filly huh?" Cole glanced at his hand again, he only had two pair, but he figured Harmon must have had something or he'd never throw a horse into the pot. "Never could turn down a horse. Okay Harmon, what you got?" he asked anxious to see the old man's hand.
"Jacks and threes," Harmon announced his hand reaching to rake the money in.
"Sorry, Harmon, that's a good hand alright, but not good enough, Kings and Fours," Cole announced spreading his cards on the table and waiting for the old man's sad face.
Suddenly Harmon stood up and threw his hat on the pile of money on the table. "Dadburn it, Cole! I just knew I had you this time. I had Jacks and threes, but it wasn't good enough, again!"
Cole glanced at the old man, feeling almost sorry for him for losing a horse in the bet. If it was one thing Cole knew, it was horses. Knowing Harmon was not a rich man, he hated taking it, but then not taking it would disgrace him in front of his friends, and he'd never do that.
Everyone else was laughing. Cole didn't.
Harmon squared his shoulders and stared down at Cole.
"Look Harmon, keep the filly. I don't need her."
"Keep her? No, no a bet's a bet. I just can't believe I lost though. You come on out to my place and pick her up. She's yours." He told him, shaking his head in disgust.
"Maybe you shouldn't play poker, Harmon," Cole suggested, raking in the win. "I mean," he saw the old man eye him and wait for some kind of cut down. "Maybe you should just sit and tell stories, we all get a kick out of your stories.
Most of the men at the table nodded, "That's for sure."
Harmon squinted as he looked around the table at the others. "Not play, it's the only enjoyment I got. You won her fair and square."
Seeing the dismay in Harmon's glance, Cole nodded. "Okay, so, how old is this filly of yours?"
"She ain't no spring chicken but she'll work good, of that I'm sure."
"Alright," Cole started to get up but Polly came over and sat in his lap. She was a voluptuous woman, with ample breasts and hips and waiting lips. He enjoyed feeling around on her and her kisses were always free. Cole loved women but settling down just wasn't in the cards for him. That's why he preferred dance hall girls to a serious relationship. It was much safer.
"You aren't leavin' this early, are you, Cole?" she purred softly in his ear. Her hands going inside his shirt to explore. Polly wasn't bashful around any man, and Cole appreciated her eagerness to please him.
He grinned, "'Fraid so honey, I got to get back to the place. I'll see you in a few days. Hold those kisses until I come back, will ya?" he encouraged.
"You know I will," she smiled flashing her green eyes at him as he got up from the poker table and followed Harmon out the door.
"Want me to wait until tomorrow to pick up the filly, Harmon?" Cole asked him as he stretched himself in the evening sunset and thought about going back to visit Polly for a while.
"I'd rather you take her on now."
Cole could just imagine what a nag this filly of his was and he was sure he didn't need her. But the old man would be insulted if he didn't take her, so he followed him out to his place. It was dark by the time they arrived, and Harmon went inside the barn. He lit a lantern and stabled his horse. Cole followed him thinking the filly had to be inside.
"I don't see a filly in here!" Cole glanced about the barn for signs of some old nag that Harmon wanted
to get rid of. But there were none, only the horses hitched to his wagon were there.
Harmon shrugged, "Come on in the house, we'll get to it." He told him.
Cole hobbled his horse. "Sure…"
Just then a couple of strangers rode up in the yard on a dead run. Harmon saw them, and his eyes widened.
Cole saw the men too and studied them for a moment. Both looked like saddle tramps and smelled of liquor.
"Friends of yours, Harmon?" Cole asked eyeing the sorry looking cowboys. One had a scruffy beard, the other had almost gold teeth, both were unkempt and mean looking.
"We're here to collect our debt, Harmon." One of them said.
"Well, you ain't gonna get it. You cheated, and I proved it."
"Not the way we see it."
"I caught them red-handed Cole." Harmon said with a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes.
"Gentlemen, unless you want to settle this with a gun, I suggest you move on." Cole told them, as a shadow of annoyance lined his face.
"We come to get what is comin' to us."
"Everyone at that table saw the Ace you pulled from your boot Butch. I got witnesses. I can prove what I'm saying."
There was a strange kind of laughter coming from one of them. Cole eyed him with precision. The one doing the talking sneered, "Yeah maybe so, but none of them are alive to tell it. Now, you owe me the deed to this land or five hundred dollars, whichever you want to pay, and I aim to collect."
Cole pulled his gun faster than these two could blink, "Friend you better ride unless you want to die today."
The cowboy stared at the gun.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Name's Cole Martin and unless you want a bullet in your heart, real soon, you better ride. You won't be collecting today."
The men glared at him, their gazes locking on his gun, and then Harmon, who stood silent. "We'll be back old man, and you better have the money, or we'll throw you off this place and take it."
Then they rode out, slowly, watching Cole all the while.
"Want to tell me who they were?" Cole stared fixedly at Harmon for an explanation as he holstered his gun once more.
"Butch and Shorty, a couple of card cheats I got in a game with when I went to buy my sow over in McAllen. Got cheated with that too, she had a fever and died on me within a week."
Cole's glance slid over Harmon reflectively now. "Do you owe them?"
"Cole, they cheated me." Harmon tried to explain. "Everyone at that table saw it too."
"From the way they were talking, everyone at that table is dead, but you and them."
"There were witnesses?" His brow shot up and the anguish on his face made Cole feel sorry for the old man. How did the old man manage to get himself in so many scrapes, Coles mind wandered?
"Why even the bartender saw me pull that Ace from Butch Hutchins sleeve. Honest Cole, I'd never lie to you."
Cole made a face, he was right the old man shot straight with him, probably because Cole wouldn't stand for anything less.
But he really needed to get home before dark. Still, he indulged the old man because he liked him. And for the life of him, he couldn't explain why. He needed to leave now.
After all he hadn't been out here since the spring round-up, and then only to the corral and back. Funny when he thought on it, he also became conscious of the fact that he'd never taken the time to get to know a lot about Harmon. In fact, he wasn't the only one.
With clarity, he recognized that he'd only indulged Harmon, not cared. There was a difference, Cole knew that.
Still, those two men looked very much like the type to shoot someone in the back. Cole wished he could clear this up for the old man, but he needed more information.
"Where exactly was this poker game?"
"In McAllen, at the saloon. Just once, you know of course, I never win, but I thought maybe if I tried somewhere else, maybe I would. And sure enough, I had the winning hand. Only that rat, Butch and his buddy, Shorty Barlow was cheating. I called him on it too. If it hadn't been for the bartender, I'd have probably died right there in that saloon."
Cole soaked the information up. "It might be best if you just quit playing Harmon. You know, we all enjoy your stories. No one would fault you if you just sat there and told a few stories every Saturday."
"I guess it's hard for you to understand," Harmon shook his head, his voice going husky. "Knowing I always lose, and still playing. But I play because I want to be a part of it. I want to be one of the boys. That's why I play. I don't mind losing so much, it's just egg money."
Cole saw the sadness in Harmon's eyes and nodded with understanding.
It would have been inhospitable not to stay long enough to see this filly Harmon was talking about. Besides, he was the least bit curious about ole Harmon. Cole had passed by the place many times and often waved to ole Harmon, but he never stayed long enough to look around.
The house was an old log home with a sod roof and had seen its better days. He could see where the porch had been patched several times even in the dark.
When they went inside there was someone standing at the stove, cooking, coffee wafted the air, it smelled so fresh he almost licked his lips, and Cole seemed to perk up a bit. He eyed the creature at the stove, Cole's curiosity peaked for a moment. Did Harmon have a partner that worked the ranch, because this person looked too dirty to be a cook. His clothes still held the dust of the day from working outside, his boots were scuffed, and dried mud was caked on the sides of them. Whoever this was, they must have worked hard outside all day, as they were carrying a load of dust around.
"Gabby, this is Cole Martin." Harmon went up to the person standing at the stove. The name threw Cole for a moment. It was a female? Cole waited for this Gabby to turn around.
As Gabby turned around to face Cole, he was shocked to see that under the flop hat, and dirty clothes, it appeared to be— a woman. A young and dirty woman.
Cole's jaw dropped open in surprise.
Her face was marred with dirt and sand as though she'd been working hard all day.
She nodded at Cole but didn't say a word.
He couldn't help but stare, she looked like some homeless waif of a woman. She needed a good scrubbing. He tried not to frown, but she was disgustingly dirty. He liked his women perfumed and wearing a dress. Poor Harmon, had he taken her in, or hired her to cook. She certainly could use a good scrubbing herself.
Her eyes never met his.
"Stay for supper, Cole?" Harmon asked.
"Well I…. sure, I guess I could…" Cole firmed his lips and wondered who this Gabby was. He took his hat off and set it on a nail on the wall by the door. His curiosity had him accepting the invitation. Could she at least cook? He'd never seen her before. What startled him was that she was young, had old Harmon taken to her himself? It seemed almost indecent to think it. He had to find out more about this. It was shocking. This was one story no one would believe.
Cole washed himself with the water in the bowl on the counter, after rolling his sleeves up. When the woman dished up the stew and cornbread, she poured his coffee and he got a whiff of her and it was all he could do not to hold his nose. She smelled like horse dung. But her hands were clean, and the food looked as good as Cole's mother had cooked years before. He stared at her in an off-handed fashion, not wanting to embarrass her or Harmon.
Who was she, and what in the world was she doing here?
She flopped in the chair beside Harmon and after Harmon said a quick grace, they ate. She still hadn't spoken.
Cole did his best not to stare or ask any questions. Although he'd give his last hand to hear the story. Maybe Harmon had taken her to wife or something. He wouldn't be asking. He'd never intentionally embarrass the old man. It would be rude, but Cole could hardly contain his curiosity of this—woman. All the years he'd known the old man, he'd never even mentioned having a woman or a cook.
Surprisingly though, the food was wonderful. He'd never eaten stew any better
and her cornbread was beautiful and sweet to his taste as he buttered it generously. Maybe he'd been too quick to judge. The woman could certainly cook. He couldn't fault her on that.
But who the hell was she and what was she doing here? He'd give a month's wages to hear the story. It seemed Harmon led a life no one knew about, and Cole had a lot of questions stirring in his head. One about his visitors tonight, and two about this—woman and lastly the filly he came to get. Where was it.
As they finished the meal, the woman still hadn't said a word.
"Well, I'll collect that filly now and be on my way, Harmon. Thank you for the meal, ma'am." Cole told the woman, putting his hat on his head and adjusting it.
She didn't respond or look at him.
"Can't she talk?" Cole asked as he started for the door with Harmon right behind him.
Harmon didn't answer.
Chapter Two
They stood on the porch and Cole waited for an explanation about the woman, but Harmon was very quiet now. Cole could see he didn't want to talk about it, but something was on his mind.
Harmon rubbed his chin, thoughtfully now and shot Cole a sideways glance.
"She talks, talks a lot when she gets going. But she's not used to strangers much. Guess you are wondering who she is, aren't you?"
Cole raised an arrogant brow. "It crossed my mind to ask, I'll admit. I mean she's quite a surprise. Never expected a woman out here. You've never said a word about her."
"You ain't never been out here, have you?" Harmon twisted his head.
"Well," Cole scratched his chin. "No, I guess I haven't visited. But I never seen her here. You just hire her to cook for your or something?"
"No. No, I didn't hire her. And there's a good reason you and no other cowpoke has heard about her." He scratched his chin as though trying to figure out a way to tell him. "She's my daughter." He finally blurted.