Billy's eyebrows shot up. "Leave? Where would you go?"
She took a folded towel and the next glass to be dried. "I just found out my sister and her husband died. Left a little girl behind—my niece Anna. She was staying with my mother, but now Mama’s passed too. I’m going to go bring my niece to live with me."
"I'm sorry to hear that." The tenor of Billy's voice dropped. He set the cup and rag down, giving her his full attention. "What's holdin' you back?"
How could she explain her reluctance? She should be eagerto put this place behind her. "I've got a good thing going here. Money coming in steady. If I leave..." She shook her head. "It’ll be harder to provide for a child. Especially if I give up the gambling."
Billy considered her words. Finally, he spoke, his voice gentle but firm. "Miss Patience, you're one of the sharpest poker players I've ever seen. But just 'cause you're good at something don't mean it's where you belong forever."
Her gaze drifted to the empty poker tables, the green felt worn and faded. How many nights had she spent there, building a reputation, gaining respect? But now, with Anna waiting for her, everything felt different. Was this life too dangerous for a child?
"You think I should go for good? Leave all this behind?" It felt scary, starting over again. Even though she wanted desperately to finally start building her new life. But…leaving something she knew she could do well…
Billy's gaze held steady. "Miss Patience, if anyone can make a fresh start, it's you. You've got grit and smarts in spades. Don't let fear hold you back from reaching for something better.”
He rubbed another glass dry. “And forgive me for being forward, but this ain't no life for a lady. Especially not one raising a little girl." He gestured around at the empty saloon, his focus shifting to the poker table she usually manned.
Then he met her gaze again. "You gotta leave it behind. Find that fresh start you been dreamin' about." The lines at the corners of his eyes creased.
The image of her dream slipped through her mind. Rich green grass. A pretty white house with curtains in the windows she’d sewn herself. It would be a while before she made it happen, though. She’d have to fight hardscrabble to earn the rest of what she’d need.
Billy’s gaze homed on her, his head tilting. “You said your mama just passed. Is there…? Would there be any kind of inheritance?”
The question hung in the air, raising memories of the last time she had seen her father. He’d refused to look at her. Just kept his nose in the morning paper, pretending she didn’t exist at all. Fresh hurt burned her throat.
She brought her focus back to reality. She wrinkled her nose to lighten the tension in her tone. "I wouldn't bet on it." The irony of her words slipped in, considering her current profession.
But even as the words left her lips, a new thought slipped in. "Although…" She worked the notion through all the possible reasons it might not be true. “He would have left his estate to Mama. If I’m one of her last two living relatives…” Her and Anna. Patience wouldn’t touch Anna’s portion, but unless her father’s business had taken a sharp decline… Even half of the estate would be more than enough to buy land and build a house, and there’d be plenty to set aside to live on for years.
Hope flickered in her chest, small but stubborn.
"There you go. Seems to me the answer is clear." Billy patted her hand. "You gotta go get that little girl. Bring her someplace safe and green where she can grow up proper."
She blinked back the sudden sting of tears. "Thank you, Billy. You’re a wise old soul, you know that?” She squeezed his hand, and his cheeks reddened above his thick whiskers. She rose from the stool. “I'm gonna tell Jackson I'm leaving today. He won't like it, but that's too bad." Her jaw firmed as she started toward the hall. "Wish me luck."
"You don't need luck. You got gumption and then some. Go on and give Jackson a piece of your mind.” He winked. “I'll be here if you need backup."
Patience took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She would give her notice, collect her pay, and set her eyes on that distant horizon—on home.
Her and Anna's bright new beginning.
CHAPTER 4
Jonah glanced back at Missoula Mills, the town disappearing behind a veil of pine trees as he and Miss Whitman rode away. The gelding he’d bought for her fell into an easy cadence beside his own horse, her scant luggage tied securely to the saddle.
Had he been right to leave Sampson behind? His brother had been eager to teach two men who wanted to learn sluice mining. Both fellows were men he’d met in the saloon while Jonah was outside talking with Miss Whitman, but they seemed like decent folks. Sampson had promised to return to the ranch as soon as he finished his instruction—a week or two at most.
Sampson, like Jonah and the rest of their brothers, knew sluice mining like the lines on their callused hands. It was the method they’d first used to mine the sapphires on their ranch. The sapphires they were supposed to keep secret. Jericho was determined not to let word of the gems spread so they didn’t get unwanted visitors on the ranch.
Still, a niggle of doubt lingered. Jericho wouldn’t like Jonah coming back without Sampson. The oldest brother had always been so protective of their land and kin. He feared strangersgetting too close, learning about the sapphires. Part of it probably stemmed from a deep-seated dread that one of them would run off and join a rowdy mining camp, just like their Lucy had done all those years ago.
Lucy. She’d been the oldest—two years older than Jericho—and she’d been wonderful. The only person who’d ever really understood Jonah. The only person who saw him as more than second-best, an option only if nobody better could be found.
"Tell me about your family." Miss Whitman’s voice pulled him from those less-than-happy thoughts. "Who else lives on this ranch of yours?"
Jonah cleared his throat. Where to start? "Well. There's Jericho, my older brother. He’s head of the family, and he’s married to Dinah. She worked as a doctor before she and her sister came west. We put her talent to use often enough, though.” He almost snorted. He’d given her one of her toughest cases, having been run over by a wagon wheel the first hour the sisters had arrived on the ranch. Dinah had stopped him from bleeding out there on the hillside and managed to set the bone so he barely had a limp now. He’d known men who broke their thigh bones like he had and now could barely walk because of the way the doctor had set the limb. Dinah possessed talent, no doubt about it.
Miss Whitman watched him, clearly waiting for him to go on.
