“Can you match a hundred and thirty dollars, sir?” she asked the game man.
“Sure can,” Gordie replied. His hands shaking with excitement, he retrieved a cash box from beneath the booth, opened it, and showed her the money. “I’ve got just about two hunnerd here.”
“Put your money down, Mr. Montana.”
Roman led her a few feet away from the stand. “Miss, Worth, I just told you that I only have about thirty—”
“But I’ve yet to pay you your salary.” Swiftly, she removed a hundred dollars in gold from her bag, returned to the counter, and laid the money down in front of Gordie. “Now add what you have, Mr. Montana.”
He saw more people swarm around the booth, some announcing they’d won at the number game, others complaining that they’d lost. Their comments convinced him that the game truly was one of skill.
“Mr. Montana?” Theodosia prompted him.
He stared at the glittering pile on the wooden counter. The gold, added to the money he already had in the various banks, brought his total savings up to almost three hundred and fifty dollars. That meant he was only a hundred and fifty dollars away from being able to pay Senor Madrigal the balance on the land. It seemed ridiculous to take the risk of losing a hundred and thirty dollars on some stupid number game.
But if he managed to ring a winning number by means of his own abilities, he’d walk away from the booth with two hundred and sixty dollars…
And the ranch would finally be his.
He studied the game’s setup again. Theodosia had said all it took to win was a good memory and a good throw.
He had both. “All right.” He added thirty dollars to the heap of gold and picked up a wooden ring.
Gordie turned the numbers back over so his customer could see them. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
Roman memorized where number sixteen was. “I’m ready.”
Gordie spun the numbers over. “Good luck, mister.”
“Don’t miss,” Theodosia added. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and stepped back.
A hush fell over the crowd as everyone held their breath and waited for him to throw the ring. Roman ignored his large audience and targeted every ounce of his concentration on the game. The only thing in the world that mattered at that moment was the wooden pin he’d chosen.
And then, with one fluid motion, he threw the ring and watched it neatly circle the all-important pin.
“You did it, Mr. Montana!” Clapping, Theodosia joined him in front of the counter. “Give him his money, sir.”
“Well now, we gotta see if he got a winnin’ number first,” Gordie said.
“I got number sixteen,” Roman declared.
Struggling with laughter, Gordie winked at Burris again, then removed the pin from the clothesline and showed it to his customer.
Roman stared at the number on the pin. A potent mixture of disbelief, confusion, and bitter regret caused him to pound his fist on the counter.
He’d lost.
Chapter Nine
“Dammit!”Roman shouted.
“If my eyes ain’t foolin’ me,” Gordie said calmly, “this here pin y’ringed is number ninety-one. ’Pears your memory ain’t as good as you thought it was. Y’lose, but it was a pleasure doin’ business with you.” Deftly, he scooped the heap of money into his cash box.
Murmurs of sympathy rippled through the assembly of spectators until Theodosia’s bright laughter silenced them.
“What the hell do you think is so funny, woman?” Roman thundered. “I just lost a hundred and thirty dollars! Dammit, if I hadn’t let you talk me into playing this stupid—”
“You did not lose, Mr. Montana, and I suggest you get that money box before the Jisters take it away.”
