The Gambler (8 page)

Tristan laughed. “Not by a long shot but its
warmer than riding on horseback and we’ve a ways to go yet. We have
a weeks travel before we get to Willow Creek so you’ll be sick of
eating in hotel restaurants by the time we reach home.”

She asked him about Willow Creek, enough that
she no doubt had a mental picture in her mind and he hoped he’d
done the town justice. They talked for the next hour and he learned
things about her he wished he didn’t know and was embarrassed to
tell her he’d left home at seventeen because his father told him to
stay out of the saloons or not come back. That was nine years ago.
He almost hated the thoughts of going home but with his pa sick,
the old man might not even remember telling him to leave. Or he
wouldn’t care any more.

After their talk, he escorted her out of the
hotel and crossed the street to the stagecoach station. Emmaline
chewed her thumbnail as she watched the people passing on the
street. He took her hand, gave it a light squeeze and left her in
front of the station to make sure their tickets were in order. When
he returned, the stagecoach was ambling down the road, the horses
pulling it stirring up dust and causing the people on the street to
scurry out of its path.

When it stopped, the driver jumped down and
Tristan left her side again to secure their things. By the time he
turned to reach for her hand to help her inside the stagecoach, she
looked scared to death. “Are you all right?”

She blinked, looked up at him, and nodded.
“Just having second thoughts.”

“About what exactly?”

He was still holding her hand and Emmaline
looked down, staring at their joined hands. “I’m putting a lot of
faith in you, Tristan Avery.” She looked back up, the fear shining
in her eyes. “You abandon me with nothing but the clothes on my
back and I’ll hunt you down and skin you alive.”

Tristan smiled and lifted her hand, placing a
soft kiss on the back of it. “I’d never dream of such a thing.” He
pulled her toward the stagecoach, putting his free hand on her
back. “Come along, Ms. Hunt. Your new future is a week away.”

* * * *

Much to Emmaline’s delight, they had the
stagecoach to themselves. No other passengers had climbed aboard
when they did and it suited her just fine. She’d taken the seat
across from Tristan and they rode for hours, her neck aching from
where she’d been looking out the window the entire time. The
scenery passing by her window was too much of a distraction.

She hadn’t lied when she told Tristan she’d
never been anywhere. She hadn’t. The farthest she’d ever traveled
was to the far end of Cottonwood Springs, to the last building on
the street, where nothing lay beyond it but wide-open spaces and
the road.

Seeing Tristan out of the corner of her eye,
she turned her head to him. He was staring at her again. “Why do
you insist on gawking at me.”

He grinned. “I wasn’t aware I was.”

“Well, every time I look, you are.”

“Maybe I only look when you do.”

She doubted it. He had been staring at her.
Ever since he helped her into the stagecoach she felt his gaze on
her. It was unnerving to have his undivided attention and she
wasn’t even sure why she did. Was he admiring the new dress he’d
purchased or was he admiring her? She scoffed at the idea. Tristan
Avery was a lot of things, but being attracted to her wasn’t one of
them, regardless of the fact she'd given herself to him the night
before.

Emmaline ignored him and spent the next two
hours watching the landscape pass by her window, alternately dozing
and being jostled awake by a bump in the road. Her bladder was
aching by the time she saw a town shimmering in the distance and
she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, watching while the
excitement built as they ambled closer.

They reached the outskirts of town and she
sat back, looking at Tristan. “Will we stop?”

He nodded. “Yes. We’ll stay over for the
night and resume the journey first thing in the morning.”

A bubble of excitement filled her and
Emmaline turned to peer back out the window. They arrived in town
amongst a cloud of dust and when the stagecoach pulled to a stop,
she could only stare in wonder.

“Let’s go, Emmaline.”

Tristan exited the stagecoach and stood
looking in, his arm outstretched to help her down. She slid across
the seat, the fabric of her traveling dress making a delicious
swishing sound as she did. When she stood and bent over to get out
of the stagecoach, she tripped on the hem of her dress and squealed
as she fell head first out the door. Tristan caught her, stumbled,
then caught himself, his arms banding around her waist to keep them
from falling.

When her feet were on the ground, she stared
at Tristan’s chest, embarrassed. “Thanks.”

“Bound to happen eventually,” he said,
smiling. “Most women fall for me but you’re the only one to make it
so obvious.”

Glancing up at him, Emmaline saw the devilish
smile on his face and knew he was right. Women probably did fall
for him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have a woman in
every town he visited. Scores of them waiting for him to return. To
lavish them with gifts and kisses and nights so sinful she felt her
face heat just thinking about it.

She let go of him and took a step back,
avoiding eye contact. As nice as it felt having his arms around
her, she couldn’t let her silly feelings get in the way of her
goal.

The stagecoach driver handed down their
packages and bags and Emmaline knew, somewhere amongst those
things, was the land deed. And Tristan’s leather pouch full of
money. She needed both and would get them if it took her months to
do so.

They made their way to the hotel in town and
Emmaline noticed there was several to choose from. Unlike the town
she came from, this place was several streets wide with
intersecting roads that ran left to right. The noise in town was a
riot of voices, the clip-clop of horses trampling down the street
and bawdy music from the two saloons she could see.

Entering the hotel, her eyes widened as she
took in the opulence. The furniture looked new and store-bought
with plush coverings in deep reds and gold. A rug in the same color
ran the entire length of the lobby and the lamps were decorated
with small crystals that made a small tinkling sound as the breeze
coming from the open door hit them.

She followed Tristan blindly, her gaze
devouring everything in sight and only stopped when she ran into
him, the front of her hat crushing against his back. He turned, an
amused look on his face. “Don’t say a word,” she threatened. “If
you didn’t dawdle so, I wouldn’t be bumping into you.”

He laughed and turned to the counter,
speaking with the gentleman behind it and Emmaline turned to gaze
about the room. Minutes stretched by as Tristan secured them a room
and it wasn’t until he turned and placed his hand on her lower back
that she wondered if he’d taken one room or two.

Leading her up the stairs, those butterflies
that were prone to appear whenever she thought of Tristan took
flight, dancing in erratic patterns as they ascended to the second
floor and down the hall. Stopping at a room near the end, she
waited as he opened the door then turned to her and ushered her
inside.

He carried in her things, her old carpetbag
and the packages her new clothes were in, laying them all on the
bed before turning to face her. “Keep your door bolted when you’re
inside the room and don’t leave unless you have to.” Walking back
to the door, he stopped and turned back to face her. “I’m across
the hall if you need anything.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving her
to stare at the closed bedroom door. Emmaline stared at it for long
minutes before she turned to look around the room. It wasn’t as
nice as the lobby of the hotel but the bed looked comfortable, the
blanket lying on top pristine white. A small table sat beside of it
with an oil lamp on top with the same fringe of crystals as the
ones downstairs had around the shade. Thick carpets covered the
wooden floor and a tall cabinet sat along one wall, its doors
covered in mirrored glass. A small table with one chair sat along
the other wall and although the room was small, it was the fanciest
space she’d ever had the pleasure to sleep in. And it was all paid
for.

She grinned and laid her reticule on the bed
before removing her hat. The ugly calico dresses were still in the
brown wrapping and she busied herself removing them, snarling her
nose when she saw them again. After wearing the green satin
traveling dress all day, she didn't want to put on something as
plain as those other dresses but knew she’d stink to high heaven if
she was forced to wear the cumbersome fancy traveling dress every
minute of the day.

Unbuttoning the jacket, she removed the dress
and reluctantly, slipped on the blue calico. It hung over her small
frame and even though the material and cut were unflattering, it
was ten times more comfortable.

The sun was low in the sky when she looked
out the window. The street below was filled with people walking the
crowded sidewalks and she stared sightlessly at the town until
someone knocked on her door. She turned and walked across the room,
opening the door without asking who was there and was taken aback
when a man in a black suit jacket smiled back at her.

“Your supper, Madame.”

Emmaline smiled at him and reached for the
tray but he held on. “Allow me,” he said, indicating with his head
for her to step back.

He placed the tray on the small table by the
wall and turned, leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind
him. Emmaline stared at the covered plate on the table and
grinned.

Fancy hotel rooms and people bringing food
right to her door. Maybe she should stick with Tristan a bit longer
instead of grabbing the deed and running first chance she got. At
least she could get a good taste of the finer things in life for a
while. Heaven knew once she bought the tools needed to mine her
gold, the backbreaking work would wear her to the bone.

She sat and ate fried chicken with green
beans cooked with onions and bacon. Fat fluffy biscuits with butter
and a piece of apple pie so hot and delicious she was tempted to go
ask for another piece.

When she’d cleaned her plates and washed it
all down with the tastiest coffee she’d ever drunk, she sat back in
her chair, laid one hand across her stomach and sighed in pleasure.
She could get used to this.

The noise outside grew as the sun sank lower.
Emmaline remained in her chair until the room grew dark and the
noise in the hall picked up in volume. A loud thump against her
door startled her and she rose to light the lamp only to realize
she had nothing to light it with.

Knowing Tristan probably had a match, she
left her room, crossed the hall, and knocked on his door until her
knuckles were sore. Trying the door handle to find it locked, she
figured he’d gone to bed early and walked to the stairs, starting
down them to ask the man at the desk to light the lamp when she saw
Tristan walk out the front door of the hotel.

“Now, where are you off to, Mr. Avery?” She
bypassed the desk when she reached the hotel lobby and ventured out
onto the sidewalk, her gaze scanning the street for Tristan. She
saw him moments later, heading away from the hotel. She followed
him.

When he entered the saloon at the end of the
street, she rolled her eyes heavenward. “Figures.” The urge to turn
around and go back to the hotel was strong, especially since she
hadn’t bothered to grab her coat. The air was brisk and cut to the
bone but at least the snow hadn't chased them when they left
Cottonwood Springs. She could smell it in the air though.

Hurrying to the saloon, she peeked into the
window. Tristan was turning from the bar, a bottle of whiskey in
one hand, a glass in the other. He crossed the room, his gaze
lingering over the tables before he sat down at one near the
piano.

Emmaline shook her head. “Gambling. Why am I
not surprised?” She watched him until her hands were numb from the
wind whipping through town and was turning away when she saw a
flash of red out of the corner of her eye. Looking back into the
window, she saw one of the saloon girls take a seat in Tristan’s
lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and either whispered in
his ear or kissed him. She couldn’t tell which. Either way,
something ugly burned in her stomach at the sight. Thoughts of
violence whispered inside her head and she blinked when she
realized she’d left her perch outside on the sidewalk and was now
standing inside the building, a murderous glare tossed in Tristan’s
direction.

The noise inside the saloon was like any
other. Laughter, a string of notes pounded out on the piano, and
the occasional curse or angry shout. The smell was about the same
too. Whiskey, sweat and cigar smoke.

She took a step toward the table Tristan sat
at but stopped. Why did she even care? It wasn’t as if he meant
anything to her. She slept with him but that didn't mean there was
any form of relationship between them. She didn’t even like him
very much. She was with him for one reason. To get her land deed
back. But watching that saloon girl wiggle on his lap and seeing
him grin that cocky little smile caused that burn in her stomach to
spread to her limbs. How dare he accept the advances of a whore
after she gave herself to him the night before?