Silver-Tongued Devil Page 15

The dealers dismissed everyone to the bar while they set up for the final game.

  Silas allowed himself one more beer as he took stock of the situation.

  Zeke and his buddies were talking among themselves. Without doubt Zeke was demanding his cohorts throw the game so the final players would be him and Silas.

  The only concern on Silas’s mind was what stake he’d offer. West would sneer at the offer of Silas’s horse or any of his livestock. Since he’d already let Zeke beat the crap out of him in public without fighting back, he couldn’t even suggest they mix it up for the entertainment of others as a potential stake.

  Or you could purposely lose before becoming a final player, walk away and be out nothing.

  He told Jonas’s pesky voice of reason in his head to shut the hell up.

  You know it won’t end at the table regardless if you win or lose. Beating him is essentially you daring him to come after you. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Please.

  Great. Now Dinah’s voice joined with his brother’s.

  Then maybe you oughta listen.

  But Silas had a good feeling about his odds and he’d never backed down from a challenge to his skill as a card player. It amused him to decide on wagering the black suit Jonas had just given him. It’d smack Zeke’s pride that Silas suggested a dirty, poor rancher dressed better than a highly paid railroad worker. It also relayed the message that he’d never give Zeke an option to take anything of worth or anything that mattered to him.

  Gordon moved in next to him where he rested against the back wall. “I hear you and West have a history.”

  “Yep.”

  “This ain’t Labelle, Silas.”

  “Meanin’ I rely on my brother to ride to my rescue?” he said sharply.

  “No, I’m sayin’ we don’t put up with brawling in here.”

  He snorted. Like he was the only cowboy in Wyoming who got into fights on the regular. “West prefers to hide in the dark and jump me when there ain’t no one else around.”

  Gordon sighed. “Figured as much.”

  Silas scanned the crowd. “How’s your relationship with Sheriff Eccleston?”

  “Good. Why?”

  “You might wanna alert him now that he’ll have to settle a dispute between me and West tonight after I win. Because I guarantee that blowhard will accuse me of cheatin’.”

  “Fuckin’ sore loser.”

  “Always.” Silas drained his beer. “Fair warnin’ to you. I won’t throw the first punch, but I promise I will throw the last one.”

  Big talk. If it becomes physical, you’ll take the first and the last punch.

  Silas sauntered over to the table positioned in the middle of the room and took his seat.

  Zeke immediately plopped into the chair opposite him.

  His buddies flanked him; the youngest ended up on Silas’s right.

  Drunk player number one stumbled into the chair on Silas’s left.

  The rest of the previously eliminated players formed a circle around them.

  Silas saw money exchanging hands as those players made bets on who’d win.

  The dealer restated the rules. Five card, one draw.

  Throughout the first six hands, Silas kept a close eye on Zeke, although anyone watching him would believe he ignored West completely.

  And Silas did let Zeke win—mostly to keep Zeke’s confidence level high.

  Drunk player number one, with the fewest coins, went all in on hand eleven. With two pairs—jacks and queens.

  Which Zeke joyfully trounced with three eights.

  The drunk player swore he thought he’d had a full house.

  That caused laughter to fill the room and cut the tension.

  Two hands later Zeke’s buddy with the lowest pile of coins bet it all on a flush.

  Stupid move. Unless the flush had face cards, it was almost always a losing play.

  The third player lasted three hands until he, too, bet it all. He actually had a decent hand—a full house with sevens and fours.

  But it wasn’t enough to beat Silas’s cards—a full house with kings and tens.

  No surprise it’d come down to the two of them.

  Silas stacked his coins neatly and waited for Zeke to start mouthing off because he loved being the center of attention.

  “So McKay, let me tell you about the exciting purchase I recently made.”

  He glanced up and feigned surprise. “How recent? I thought I won all your wages the last time we played.”

  “You did. But I make that much every week, so it wasn’t the big loss for me it might’ve been for a rancher with no regular income.”

  Don’t take the bait.

  West played with his coins as he spoke. “Still, it stung, you bein’ so lucky that night.” He uttered lucky as if it were a curse word. “I thought that maybe if we spent more time together we wouldn’t have this mutual loathing between us.”

  “Yeah, I don’t see that happenin’ anytime soon, so cut to the chase.”

  “I doubt our fellow players are aware of your obsession with buyin’ land. I mean, the purchases are there on the county registers, but I don’t think they know just how fast you snap it up, since you keep to yourself out in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you have an inside track when parcels come up for sale since your brother is a county employee.”

  “Jonas’s job is to keep the peace, not to scout for land deals,” Silas said coolly.

  “Pity then that you didn’t know about it, because an exciting opportunity was recently offered to me.”

  The bad feeling that started in his gut and was rarely wrong took root.

  “I, too, would like a place to call home. An investment in my future and build ties to the land. So I can proudly say that creekside section, round about twenty acres once owned by Griffen and between you and Henrikson? Well, I bought it. You’re lookin’ at your new neighbor.”

  No. He wouldn’t. West wasn’t that goddamned vindictive to go behind his back and make an offer on land that was all but worthless to anyone but him or Henrikson.

  But he was. The look on Zeke’s face was smug to the point of evil.

  Silas’s guts squeezed but he affected a carefree grin. “Aww. I’m beginning to think you’re a little sweet on me, Zeke darlin’, given your obsession with me. In fact, I think you know more about me than even my sweetheart does.”

  The laughter that rang out turned Zeke’s face dark red.

  But Zeke regained control quickly. “Such a joker you are, McKay. But I’m glad you brought up the lovely Dinah. Because she is part of this game.”

  The hell she is. But Silas managed a droll, “You ever gonna quit flappin’ your gums and state your stake instead of blatherin’ on and stalling to save face?”

  “Yes, by all means, let’s get down to brass tacks. I’m offering up the land I recently bought that would make us neighbors. And since you don’t own a single thing of value or interest to me, I’ll let you put your sweetheart up as your stake.”

  Silas stood abruptly, anger filling every molecule of his being. “You shut your mouth. Don’t you even suggest something like that, you dirty-minded motherfucker.”

  And Silas had played right into Zeke’s hands while Zeke played it cool. “Simmer down. Since our fellow players like a wager that’s interesting, I was only about to suggest that if I win, I’ll expect your promise to break off your engagement with Miss Thompson. I heard you haven’t even given her a ring yet anyway, so I’m being generous with allowing that as your stake.”

  Expressions of disbelief and laughter taunted him.

  While everyone around them talked and laughed at the audacity of the wager, Silas leaned in so only Zeke could hear him. “Why are you doin’ this?”

  “Because you stole my life.”

  That made no sense even when that wasn’t the first time this crazy asshole had said that to him. “What’s that have to do with Dinah?”

  “You used your injuries to trick her into believing I’m a
violent monster and now you’re with her instead of me. So I want her to know who the real monster is when she hears her intended is willing to gamble her future away for just another piece of dirt.”

  This guy was plumb crazy.

  “And if I get up and walk away from this poker game?”

  “You won’t. You’d rather lose her than take a chance on havin’ me for a neighbor for the rest of your miserable goddamned life.”

  That wasn’t true…was it?

  If it isn’t, then forfeit right now.

  But…this was all drama, all for show, all to make himself look like the most powerful man in the room. To get people talking about how audacious Zeke West was.

  But won’t they be talking about Dinah too?

  Yes, but if West could showboat, then Silas could too. If he lost the bet—which wasn’t likely—he could humble himself in the most public manner to get back into her good graces. It might take some time to win her back, but heck, they weren’t even getting married until next year anyway.

  Silas couldn’t pass up his chance to get that land. Dinah would understand. Besides, by the time she heard about this wager, he could…slightly modify the details in the retelling. Tall tales got started this way by a bunch of drunken men. He’d downplay what happened and convince her to see the humor in it.

  He hoped.

  “So what’s it gonna be, McKay?”

  Adjusting his hat, Silas said, “Fine. I accept those stakes.”

  The din around them increased tenfold. Money exchanged hands between the spectators.

  After several long minutes, the dealer shushed the audience.

  Somehow Zeke had procured a piece of paper. He shoved it at Silas. “I want it in writing that should you lose, you will end your relationship with Miss Thompson as your ante in this game.”

  Silas scrawled those words across the page and signed it. Then he ripped the paper in half and shoved it back at Zeke. “I want it in writing that should you lose, you will turn over the deed to the aforementioned land immediately as your ante in this game.”

  Smirking, Zeke complied.

  The dealer set aside the papers. “Bets are made. One hand, gentlemen. One hand, two draws, no wild cards, need an ace shown to me for a draw of four.” Then he broke open a new deck of cards with a Chinese dragon image on the back so there’d be no chance of card switching.

  That annoyed Zeke.

  Silas eyed the long sleeves of West’s suit coat, guessing he’d probably hidden a couple of cards up there. Contrary to Zeke’s claims, Silas hadn’t been kicked out of a saloon for cheating, but Zeke had.

  The dealer shuffled half a dozen times. He cut the deck in half and set a half in front of each player. “Highest card determines who gets first card and first draw.”

  They flipped over their cards simultaneously.

  Zeke flipped a nine of hearts.

  Silas flipped a six of diamonds.

  Another smirk from Zeke but Silas was relieved his opponent would have to draw first.

  The dealer shuffled again and dealt Zeke, then Silas until they each had five cards.

  Silas’s heart thundered as he lifted the edges of his cards. Ace of diamonds, queen of clubs, queen of hearts, two of spades and jack of spades. Not the worst hand, but nothing but a pair of queens, and pairs didn’t win hands.

  Zeke threw down four cards and showed the dealer his hand.

  So his opponent also had an ace. It was likely Zeke hadn’t been dealt any face cards or he wouldn’t have tossed four.

  Silas slid his jack of spades and two of spades forward as his discards, signaling for two new cards. He peeked at his new cards, seeing the queen of spades and the jack of diamonds.

  For the last draw, Zeke took two. He couldn’t mask his grin.

  Silas discarded just the jack of diamonds, wondering if he should’ve kept the jack of spades. Then he saw that his final draw was the last queen in the deck, the queen of hearts.

  Somehow that seemed appropriate given what he was betting with.

  Still, he frowned. His bastard opponent could gloat all he wanted, but odds were in Silas’s favor that Zeke didn’t have four kings because that was the only hand that would beat his.

  “You don’t look so confident, McKay,” West taunted him.

  Silas didn’t respond because that’s exactly what he wanted West to think. Then he shuffled his cards in his hand as if trying to reconfigure them.

  West said, “Let’s make a side bet.” He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and tossed it on the table. “An extra twenty to the winner.”

  “Pass. We’ve already made our bet. So let’s get this over with.”

  Zeke tucked the money back into his outer front jacket pocket. “All right, neighbor, read ’em and weep.” He milked the drama, turning over one card at a time.

  Ace of clubs.

  Ace of spades.

  Ace of hearts.

  He paused to let the crowd revel in their excitement.

  Then he flipped over a ten of hearts and a ten of diamonds.

  A full house, aces high.

  Silas just stared at the hand.

  “Go ahead and cry if you want.”

  Laughter.

  Silas signaled to the bartender. “Two shots of whiskey.”

  “Doublin’ up already, McKay?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re gonna be the bigger man and offer me a toast?”

  “Something like that.”

  The booze arrived and Silas held up the first shot glass. “Zeke West, the cockiest card player I’ve ever met.” He threw back the whiskey, welcoming the burn. “Who once again proved that his cockiness ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of hot air.” Silas flipped his entire hand over at once. “Read ’em and weep, West.” Then he knocked back the second shot and raised the empty glass to Zeke. “Go ahead and cry if you want.”

  The room exploded with shouts and laughter and general melee.

  Zeke stared at the winning hand in utter disbelief. Then he stood up and roared. “This was fucking rigged!”

  Before West could throw aside the table and come after him, Sheriff Eccleston slapped his hands between them. “I heard there might be trouble, so I’ve been watchin’ since the game started. And you listen to me, West. There will be no accusations of cheatin’ or of Pettyjohn’s rigging the game. McKay won fair and square. I saw it as did everyone else in this room.”

  “Of course you’d take his side,” Zeke sneered. “His damn brother is one of your deputies.”

  “Don’t matter. You lost. Don’t make it worse on yourself by bein’ a sore loser. You chose the stakes. You gotta live with them. So along those lines, I’d better hear of you visitin’ the county courthouse in the next week and puttin’ McKay’s name on that land deed.” He got right in Zeke’s face. “We clear on that?”

  “Yeah.” Zeke retreated. After sending Silas a blazing look, he and his friends slipped through the crowd.

  Then the sheriff came over and clapped Silas on the shoulder. “Heck of a card game, McKay.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you comin’ by. If I’da known West was here I’d’ve skipped this place tonight.”

  “I’ve heard you’ve tangled with him before.”

  “Last time I beat him at cards, he jumped me about an hour afterward and whipped up on me bad enough to send me to Doc’s.” No need to share why he’d let that beating happen.

  The sheriff’s eyes turned hard. “He the cause of them bruises I saw the day I mistook you for your brother?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I ain’t puttin’ up with that kinda shit in my town. I’d likely toss you both in the jail since you both need to learn to act like adult men.”

  Silas nodded even when he knew it was a bunch of horseshit.

  “You headed home?”

  “I reckon. Had enough excitement for one night.”

  “The ride will give you time to think about how you’re gonna tell your girl about the role sh
e played in your winnin’ hand.”

  “Ah, I’m hopin’ to avoid that confession entirely.”

  The sheriff laughed. “Son, word of advice. She’s gonna hear it from somebody. It’d be best if that somebody was you.”

  That was true. Plus, he’d won the land, but he hadn’t won the cash needed to buy Dinah that ring, which was why he’d come to town in the first place. He sure as shootin’ wasn’t going home empty handed now.

  “On second thought, maybe I will stick around for a bit and see if my luck holds.”

  That’s when a folded note was hand delivered to him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Bea. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Darling, you look wonderful. Wearing a little lipstick and rouge won’t turn you into a harlot.” She snickered. “Well, more of a harlot than you’ve turned out to be, you cheeky thing, getting engaged three days after your first outing with the very persuasive Mr. McKay.”

  Dinah smiled…and smeared lipstick on her teeth. This waxy stuff was more trouble than it was worth.

  “Although, I am disappointed you’re not wearing his ring yet.”

  Why did everyone point that out? It wasn’t as if a ring would make them more betrothed.

  Wednesday night, Silas had surprised her and shown up for supper. Mrs. Agnes had felt well enough to dine with them and had slyly asked when he planned to make the engagement official and give Dinah a ring. Silas had quipped that it’d taken him this long to find the perfect girl; it’d take him longer than a week to find the perfect ring. Then he’d happily dug into the mahogany cake with raisins Dinah had made and changed the subject.

  “Dinah? Are you all right?” Bea asked.

  “Fine. Just woolgathering.”

  Bea moved in behind her, pressing her cheek to Dinah’s as they faced the mirror. “Try darkening your eyelashes with this.” She passed her a gold tube. “I’ll be right back.”

  Dinah set the tube aside; with her luck she’d jab herself in the eye.

  She’d visited Bea several times the past year, but this was her first foray into her friend’s elegant bedroom. Half of the space belonged solely to Bea. Her hand-carved black walnut armoire had been aligned along the far wall (her husband’s matching armoire echoed in placement across the room) with the dressing table positioned next to it and a velvet-tufted chair tucked beneath. This allowed Bea to sit in front of the gilded mirror with a view of the four-poster canopied bed behind her. She stored her “unmentionables” in a chiffonier, which Dinah decided was a fancy word for a tall, narrow chest of drawers.