by Iris Kelly
It was a blatant appeal to his ambition, which alone was not enough to take him in. But it presented an undeniably once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see life as it presented itself to a renowned card sharp (or at least her stand-in.) Could there be any harm in trying?
“I would never want to put you in harm’s way.”
“Why should I be in any danger? You said yourself that dozens of women have taken to playing cards in the saloons and that they are generally welcome there.”
“But,” Sebastian mused slowly, “You will have to know how to act like her, sound like her, and be familiar with her background.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. They seem to be convinced that I have assumed a new identity, and it won’t necessarily trouble them if I am reluctant to discuss ‘my past.’ You are seeing the merit of the idea, Mr. Knight.”
Indeed, he was. “It seems advisable to postpone the wedding. And we cannot be seen together in public—for what would explain the connection? I think our encounters thus far have not been too widely noticed. Nor should you openly fraternize with the Deputy’s wife, nor the lawyer’s wife. They simply wouldn’t be in Annie’s circle.”
Abigail reacted with disappointment.
“I’m sure some careful arrangements can be made to meet behind closed doors.”
Abigail sighed with relief.
“But we must think very, very carefully about how best to prepare. We must anticipate any complications, and—”
He stopped, amused at her obvious excitement.
“Go home and think it over carefully, Miss Norris. If you decide to proceed, there is much to be done in preparation. Now, I must apologize for not being able to escort you home—but our scheme will not allow for it.”
“I shall be at Miss Mabel’s awaiting further instructions, Mr. Knight,” Abigail said excitedly.
Sebastian watched her exit the store. Not in his wildest imagination could he have thought that such an unusual woman existed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sebastian bustled around the kitchen of his bachelor haven with an inexplicable nervousness. He wasn’t accustomed to having large social gatherings at his house. But Miss Norris had to sharpen her card skills to perfection, and get used to a rough all male environment. Ajax Harper had enthusiastically offered to extend the invitations for this evening for a card party that would be a dress rehearsal for Abigail’s demanding role.
Why had he invited her to dine with him first? It was that portion of the evening, he realized, that was causing him the most anxiety. But he brought her to Cheyenne for the purpose of matrimony. Circumstances being what they were, they couldn’t be seen at the local restaurants or hotel dining rooms, but he had promised to provide for all her expenses, and he certainly owed her a meal.
Having been a bachelor on his own for over ten years, Sebastian was actually quite competent in the kitchen. The odd, often all night hours of his profession meant that restaurants were often closed just when he was famished. Flapjacks, eggs, steak, stews . . . over time, he had mastered all the essentials. It was another circumstance that led him to conclude that marriage could hardly be regarded as a compelling necessity. He managed his own household very nicely.
Abigail was duly impressed by the meal of steak, baked potatoes, and asparagus. Sebastian might have been the only gentleman of her acquaintance that she had ever witnessed preparing a meal. And as luck would have it, they both saw this as a useful opportunity to discuss marriage.
“Please accept my deepest thanks for your assistance, Miss Norris, both in the matter of my inheritance and in this investigation. I had little hope that anyone would share my lack of enthusiasm for matrimony, and at the same time, agree to marry me.”
“We are an oddly well-suited pair, Mr. Knight. My objections to marriage are somewhat different than yours. I simply believe that women have far less to gain from the institution, and what they lose is typically unquestioned and widely accepted by all.”
“I have often thought of the sacrifices that ladies make upon entering marriage. My mother certainly made her share. I was often rather befuddled at some of the restrictions she endured—some owing to the marital state, some simply to being a woman.”
“I did not think that men gave these matters much thought,” Abigail said, genuinely surprised.
It was perhaps a shame that there was no room for marriage in his busy life. Some woman might have greatly benefitted from his thoughtful and empathetic mind.
*****
Shortly after supper, the card party was assembled. It consisted of Sebastian, Ajax, Lewis, Avery Martin, Beatrice’s husband, Giles Cooper, Lydia’s husband, Sheriff Johnson, and Abigail.
For Abigail, it was a nice opportunity to put faces to the names of the husbands that she had heard of during the Tea Party. “Gentlemen, I can’t thank you enough for your assistance. I certainly could use every opportunity to refresh myself on how to deal some of these games and to look as if I had been born doing it. But also, as Mr. Knight has doubtless explained to you, I must accustom myself to the rough and tumble surroundings I will encounter.”
“True enough,” Sebastian agreed. “So please, gentlemen, you must suppress your finer impulses and your well-mannered upbringing. We must immerse her in the rude and crass behavior she is most likely to encounter.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think that, in the presence of a lady, most men are going to stay on their best behavior,” Lewis objected.
“That’s just the sort of thing we’d expect from a lowdown, yellow, lily-livered snake like you. Now, whatcha gotta say to me?” Ajax deadpanned.
He was met with a split second of shocked silence before the room exploded with laughter.
“Your efforts are much appreciated, Deputy,” Sebastian said.
“Boy, you speak to me like that and I’ll have your badge,” Sheriff Johnson warned.
“I was just followin’ orders. Havin’ a little fun. Haven’t been able to let loose since I became a pillar of society. Before then, I used to be good ’n’ bad.
“I hope the rest of you feel free to follow suit. I’m sure tonight will be an education,” Abigail said.
“I have spent fifteen years holding my tongue and putting forth a professional demeanor,” Avery noted. “This will be an effort.”
Their subsequent attempts at rough talk were by turns half-hearted or hilariously earnest. Ajax was a particularly enthusiastic contributor. Lewis accused everyone of cheating every time he lost a pot, but was usually unable to maintain a straight face. Avery challenged one and all to a duel and offered to write their will and get their final affairs in order before he disposed of them—such were the inclinations of a lawyer. Sheriff Johnson snarled and insulted as only a man who has spent his life around ill-mannered outlaws would have at the tip of his tongue. He refrained from out and out profanity. They all did. Their finer instincts did get the better of them.
Throughout it all, Abigail was able to enjoy the company of men to an extent she would never have believed possible during the stifling confinement of her marriage. Whether her husband was present or not, the men in their circle were gallantly dismissive. Her words were seldom responded to at length and quickly forgotten unless she let loose her unseemly opinionated inclinations. Then, they typically hastened away, no doubt to caution her husband to have better control of her.
Tonight, she felt like the belle of the ball, surrounded by admirers who were anxious to please and to assist. Despite the comical attempts at boorish behavior, their kind hearts and warm manners were still apparent. Abigail thought back to the enthusiastic testimonials of their wives and had to allow that she was in the presence of an unexpectedly high quality of character.
After assurances from Ajax that he would keep as close an eye on her as he was able, Abigail noted, “I have no high opinion of marriage, yet I’m forced to say that Molly has done well for herself. As well as I could ever have wished for her. And she is not alone. The Boston ladies are all to be congra
tulated.”
This pronouncement elicited a collective flush of embarrassed pride.
“You warmin’ up to the institution?” Ajax asked.
“Not really. But there are exceptions to every rule, and it is a fluke of the highest magnitude to have so many in one place at the same time.”
The men had all become familiar with the peculiar nature of Sebastian and Abigail’s delayed but impending marriage. What a fine looking, vivacious woman. What red-blooded man could live alongside her as only a brother?
*****
Lewis and Avery walked back toward Main Street together. Both of their thoughts had taken the same turn.
“They’d make a handsome couple,” Lewis said.
“They might even make a happy couple,” Avery added. “But I don’t know if you or I have ever encountered a man more stubbornly committed to bachelorhood than Sebastian Knight.”
“Yes, and yet, did you notice how he couldn’t take his eyes off her?”
“Means nothing,” Avery replied, “unless it means something.”
“He’d never admit it. Certainly not to us. And she does not seem at all inclined to encourage him.”
“I should hate to give up on him as a lost cause. But I’m at a loss. We must consult wiser intellects on this matter.”
“Our wives,” they agreed in unison.
*****
Sebastian and Miss Mabel sat in the boardinghouse parlor as Abigail twirled in front of them. Miss Mabel nodded in approval at Abigail’s flamboyant outfit.
“Yeah, you look like one of them lady gamblers, for sure. You look like you got more money than you know what to do with.”
“That is precisely the look I was going for. What do you think, Mr. Knight?”
“I have no expertise in ladies’ fashions. But you will draw a great deal of attention, I’m sure. I don’t think that anyone will have any trouble believing your story.”
It wasn’t much of a compliment, but nonetheless, Abigail saw enough admiration in his eyes to be contented.
“Cain’t make out the gun while you’re standin’,” Miss Mabel noted. “But if folks notice it while you’re sittin’, they’ll know they’d best not mess with you.”
The gun strapped onto Abigail’s ankle was empty of bullets and strictly for show. Public awareness of her readiness to fight was an essential component of Flamin’ Annie’s image.
“Well, it’s eight o’clock. You’d best be on your way,” Miss Mabel said.
“Goodness. The time has really arrived,” Abigail said in amazement.
“If you have any reservations—if you’re not sure that you want to go through with this—you mustn’t go forward on my account. There is still time to reconsider and change your mind. There will be no reproach from me, I assure you.”
“Mr. Knight . . . how disappointing for both of us not to find out where all of this scheming might lead. Now, I must be on my way.”
“I am sorry I cannot escort you there.”
“Now, what would a notorious lady like myself, who’s trying to stay out of the limelight, be doing in the company of a newspaperman?”
“Best of luck to you, Miss Norris,” Sebastian said, still anxious.
“Git outta here. I cain’t wait to hear how this first night goes,” Miss Mabel said.
And so, with a deep breath, Abigail was on her way. The saloon she was headed for was only a fifteen-minute walk away, which gave her plenty of time to clear her head. She was not headed to Zachary Scott’s saloon on this occasion, but to Dusty’s Saloon, one of his rivals. If all went well, then by the following day, all the saloon owners would be aware that a lady card sharp had come to town, and they would be competing fiercely for her business.
It was the moment of entry that Abigail dreaded. Would she be engulfed in a cloud of smoke? Deafening noise? Naked prostitutes? Whatever came her way, she had to maintain her poise and behave as if she had a thousand saloon visits under her belt, if not more.
As she made her final approach to Dusty’s, she crossed paths with Deputy Harper. He tipped his hat politely in her direction, but otherwise gave no sign of recognition. She had to suppress a laugh. He had so thoroughly enjoyed playing the outlaw at their card party. As promised, he would never be too far off.
Mr. Knight had said that she shouldn’t carry through on their plan out of any sense of obligation to him. But it was that sense of obligation that helped to give Abigail the strength to push open that swinging door and step into Dusty’s Saloon.
Just as she had anticipated, she was greeted by a wall of smoke and loud, raucous chattering. The bar was a long walk across the room. As she made her way over to it, she noticed that a sizeable number of heads turned in her direction, but the majority of players were too absorbed by the drama at their own tables to take any notice of her.
There was an unattended piano on the side wall. It looked fairly new. Almost instinctively, Abigail made her way over to it. A quick test of the keys showed it to be surprisingly in tune. Well, it was as good a way to announce her arrival as any. She slid onto the seat and proceeded to play one of the most rousing popular jigs that had been in high demand in her communal Boston home. She had it thoroughly committed to memory. By the time she finished, she noted that the room had become eerily quiet. As she stepped up from the bench, she was greeted by cheers and clapping.
She quickly reminded herself that Flamin’ Annie would never be flustered by such adulation, and she gave her audience an audacious wink. As she made her way over to the bar, the din of chatter resumed. The bartender was immediately at her service.
“Some fella told me that Flamin’ Annie had come to Cheyenne, and I just thought he’d had one whiskey too many. And here you are, bold as brass.”
“Abigail Norris is the name, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, sure. You go by anything you like. Norris, is it? That’s fine by me. What can I get for you, Miss Norris? Whiskey?”
“It’s early and I’d like to keep my wits about me. Sarsaparilla will be fine. What games have you got going tonight?”
“Monte and Faro and Five Card Draw. Lots of Faro. But you can start up a new game if you’d like.”
“Oh, I can manage just about anything. Find me a seat, will you?”
The bartender handed her the drink and hurried away to find her a spot. How strangely welcoming it all felt. For her entire life, Abigail had assumed that there would be nothing but hostility and resentment for a lady who ventured into such places. Instead, she felt like a visiting luminary. The hospitable bartender hurried back.
“Right this way, Miss . . . Norris.”
She followed him to a table of disheveled ranch hands and a few well-dressed businessmen. Most of them tipped their hats.
“Welcome to the table, Miss . . . Miss . . . what did you say we should call her?”
“Abigail Norris,” Abigail replied. In response to their raised eyebrows, she added, “Don’t you like the name? I picked it myself.”
This got a big chuckle from most of them, and Abigail slid gracefully into her seat. She could tell at a glance that the game was Five Card Draw—which was fine by her. Next to Stud, it was her favorite game.
“You came right in on your deal,” one of the men noted helpfully.
“So I did. What are the limits?”
“One-two.”
Abigail pulled a small wad of cash out of her purse, supplied by the petty cash resources of The Cheyenne Chronicle.
“Guess I’ll be needing some chips.”
“CHIPS FOR THE LADY,” another man hollered out.
Abigail smiled gratefully. All of her concerns evaporated. These men were tickled to have her there. And as she glanced about the room, she could see a small crowd of curiosity seekers gathering around her table.
“Say, Annie. I mean, Abigail . . . where you been holin’ up? No one’s heard hide nor hair of you for quite some time.”
“Oh, I’ve been visiting with friends, here and the
re—good friends.”
From the knowing smiles, Abigail could see that they assumed she was referring to male friends! It did gall her a bit not to be able to defend herself. Not that it seemed to trouble anyone. In fact, her husband’s friends showed a hundred times more shocked disapproval when she supported the suffragettes.
“Thought you might still be in Frisco.”
“Too much fog.”
Hah! They knew she was keeping her distance from California justice. Abigail was led to wonder what was the good of a pristine reputation when it was such fun to have a bad one. She was also grateful for the practice card game that had been arranged for her. The loud, rough language in a real saloon was more extreme, but she felt better prepared for it. And thankfully, none of the hostilities were directed toward her. Quite the opposite. While the men didn’t coddle her—after all, she was Flamin’ Annie—they did regard her feminine presence as a welcome change of pace.
Abigail did her best to keep up with the table banter, while at the same time, giving the cards her best effort. At least that part of the evening came relatively easily. Her small starting stack of thirty dollars slowly began to expand, as did the crowd of spectators around her. She could hear the whispers all around.
“You don’t wanna be cheatin’ on her. She’s sent more than a few cheaters to their graves.”
“She’s younger than I thought she’d be. And prettier.”
“Wonder if she plays Faro? Maybe she’ll be back tomorrow night.”
One particular man, who was fixated on her, was a man by the name of Willard Pearce. He wasn’t one of Dusty’s typical customers. He was, in fact, an employee of Zachary Scott, the saloon owner who was the target of Abigail and Sebastian’s scrutiny. Willard was often sent out by his employer to keep tabs on the competition and to make sure they didn’t have any striking advantages over Zachary’s establishment.
But they sure did tonight. The place was packed as word spread out in the streets that a world-famous female card sharp had dropped into town. The men wanted to play with her, watch her, and speculate about her wild life, and in the meantime, they managed to hand over quite a bit of their cash to Dusty’s. Zachary would not be happy about that.