Slowly, deliberately, she dealt the next hand, keeping her expression carefully neutral even as her heart thumped faster.
She'd seen his type before. He wasn’t the cruel sort, the kind who bullied others when they didn’t get what they wanted. No, this fellow looked to be one of those men who’d been pushed to the brink by the harsh realities of frontier life. Loss, desperation, the struggle to survive—they could break something inside a person until all that remained was rage. As much as she understood how that could happen, empathized even, she couldn't let his rage put the other patrons at risk.
Each card laid on the table ratcheted up the tension simmering in the air.
The man grew increasingly agitated, muttering curses under his breath as his losses mounted.
Patience maintained her composure, but beneath the table,her free hand drifted closer to the derringer tucked in the holster hidden under her skirt at her waist. A weapon of last resort, but one she knew how to use if it came to it. Better to defuse his anger before it exploded, if she could manage it.
She dealt the next hand slowly, using the moment to catch his eye. She gave him a smile that disarmed most men. "You seem to be having a rough night." She turned up the charm in her voice. "Perhaps a break would do you good. Clear your head a bit."
His scowl deepened, but he hesitated, his hand hovering over his cards.
She pressed on, keeping her tone pleasant. "I've seen many a man let the cards get the better of him. It's a hard thing to walk away when luck's not on your side. It takes a strong fellow. But from what I’ve seen, you’ve got that kind of strength in spades." She let her grin turn lazy, almost like a wink. “Besides, my friend Billy over there behind the counter owes me a favor. Two free rounds for you. On the house.”
She held his gaze, watching the struggle play out behind those angry eyes. For a long, strained moment, it looked like his rage might boil over.
She was ready for him to lash out.
But then, slowly, he released a breath and pushed back from the table. “Reckon I’d be a fool to pass up two free drinks.”
As he pushed back and tromped toward the bar, she caught Billy’s eye and raised two fingers just high enough that he’d see them.
Billy gave a tiny nod. They’d done this several times now. Trouble always came in one form or another. It was her job to stay alert and ready for whatever hand fate dealt her next. Part of her role, anyway. Her other assignment was to increase the house winnings each night. Double them every month—that’d been her promise. Their agreement had beenthat if she didn’t accomplish it in any month, she would go upstairs with the othergirls.
No matter what, she wouldn’t let that happen.
Jackson was a liar, for certain, but so far he’d held up his end of the bargain. She’d first come west after responding to his advertisement in the St. Louis paper for a mail order bride. She’d been desperate to escape her husband’s killer and should have taken more time to ask questions.
Not that Jackson would have answered truthfully. He’d paid her fare on the steamboat to Fort Benton, then a wagon ride to Missoula Mills. It wasn’t until she met Jackson and entered the saloon with him that she realized his true intentions. He didn’t want a wife, he wanted another pretty face for his brothel upstairs.
Never had she done such and never would she. Thankfully, his greed overruled his stubbornness, and she’d convinced him she could double the profits of his poker room. If she didn’t manage it in any given month, she’d agreed to join the other girls.
But she wouldn’t. Not if she had breath left in her body. She’d think of something else to stop him.
So far, that hadn’t been necessary. She’d accomplished it that first month, then the next, and now she would this month too.
She holstered her derringer with a hand that trembled more than it should, forcing herself to breathe past the tightness in her chest.
She managed a bright grin for the other fellows around the table. “One more hand, then I close the room for an hour. You boys go drum up some grub and meet me back here.”
Maybe she shouldn’t take this hour off each midday, but she’d be holed up in her dark, smoke-laced room half the night, and she needed a break for decent food and fresh air.
She let Nelson win the final hand, as he needed the cash more than the rest. The lad always sent his winnings back to hiswidowed mother. She was on track to make the house proceeds she had to for the month.
The men began to disperse, muttering among themselves as they filed out into the main area of the bar.
Best she slip out while she had a chance. After stacking the cards, she headed out the back door. The trading post was only three doors down, and a narrow walkway ran between the buildings so she could leave the alley and enter the store from the front like other customers.
The warm afternoon sun eased her tension as she made her way down the alley, then between the buildings to the boardwalk lining the main road through town. A glance through the front windows of the trading post showed the place was busy. She didn’t want to face people just now, but she needed to get an order in.
Taking a deep breath, Patience pushed open the door and stepped inside, the tinkling of the bell overhead announcing her arrival.
The proprietor looked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Afternoon, Miss Whitman. What can I do for you?"
Patience returned the smile, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt. After all the strain in her morning’s work, she preferred not to have to face people and pretend all was as pleasant as spring in her life. "Just need to place an order. I'll be picking it up tomorrow around this time." After she was paid. She placed her list on the counter, and Mr. Higgins studied the items.
"I'll have that all ready for you in the morning." He lowered the note with a friendly smile. "Anything else I can help you with?"
