He set his bag on the table and pulled open the drawstring to find the poster shoved rather haphazardly in the corner. His lips quirked, for at least she’d done her best to make it appear as though it hadn’t been disturbed.He removed the crude likeness that someone had drawn of his features and smoothed it out on the table. He saw the bounty priceof five hundred dollarsand said, “LastI saw, the price on my head hadactually gone up to a thousand.”
He glanced up to see that her face had whitened even further. He also noticed the rifle sitting at her side and applauded her for it. At least Miss Erindelle wasn’t stupid. She was wise enough to protect herself. “What did you do?” she breathed.
“Murder.” He heard her sharp intake, so he quickly added; “You might have done the same if these men had killed your family over something as inconsequential as fur.” With that, he reached into his bag andpulled out the small tintype. He stared at the image for a moment and then handed it to his hostess. After a brief hesitation, she reached out and took it.
He watched her features turn from horror to compassion as she put a hand over her heart. “That was my wife, Martha and ourthree-year-oldson,Thomas. They were shot down in cold blood. They were innocent, caught in the midst of the growing feuds around the river, but becauseI was a rifleman assigned to Fort Garrythey became a target for my enemies when I wouldn’tturn my head to any wrongdoing. When I found out what happened, I took the law into my own hands instead of letting the authoritiestake them totrialwhere certain forces would undoubtedly…set them free.” He lowered his gaze to the hardwood and added, “My wife and I were what they refer to asMétispeople. Our fathers were French trappers, and our mothers were Ojibwe Native American women.In spite of this, I’vehad to fight forevery ounce of respect. Now, I’m just trying to find a way to…exist without them.”
Silence followed his statement, and whether or not Miss Erindelle chose to believe him or not was up to her. He’d told her nothing but the truth.
Except for his occupation on the side, which wouldn’t do anything but make him out to be no better than the men he’d killed. But mercenarieson the hunt for renegades usually weren’t looked upon that favorably.
After a time,Elise handed the photo back to him. He tucked it and the poster back in his pack and set it on the floor. He didn’t know what to expect from her, either a demand that he leave right then, or perhaps a fit of hysterics upon learning he was being hunted. In the end, she merely said, “You should eat. The food is getting cold.”
***
Elise watched Mr. Cade as he consumed his breakfast.Now, more than ever, she was conflicted about what to do with this man who had entered her life on a gust of winter wind.She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, but his story was one of loss and heartbreak, something she knew a bit about. While shecertainly wasn’t a woman who could“rescue”himfrom his current despondency, other than offer him shelter from thebitter cold of a Texas winter, she could relent enough to offera bit ofamicablecompanionship.
“Are you any good at cards, Mr. Cade?”
He looked up and a smile formed on his lips. The sight did something rather strange to her midsection, but she pushed that aside. “What did you have in mind?”
She thought for a moment.“Poker?” she suggested.
His eyebrows shot upward. “That’s a rather bold move, Miss Erindelle.”
“Why?”she countered with a determined lift of her chin. “Because I’m a woman?”
“No.” He returned with a full grin. “Because I’m the best there is.”
She laughed, finding that it was rather freeing to do so, and definitely something she had been missingin the past two years. “We’ll see about that, Mr. Cade.”
After the breakfast dishes were cleared, Elise brought over a deck of cards and laid them on the table.
“Are we playing for stakes?”her guest inquired.
“Hmm.” Elise tapped a finger thoughtfully on her lips and said, “I have an idea.”
She stood up and went to her bedroom. Lifting the lid of her hope chest, she ignored the pang of emotion that passed through her when she gently moved aside her mother’s ivory wedding gown with its delicate pearl beading and tatted trim, and reached for thesmall wooden box.
With a smile, she returned to the table and sat down, where she proceeded to empty the coins on the top. Mr. Cade reached out and picked oneup, staring at it curiously. “These aren’t like any coins I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
“No, they wouldn’t be,” Elise agreed with a touch of fondness in her voice. “They are called ‘love tokens.’ My father made them for my mother. He gave one to her each year that they were married. There are twenty-eight of them.” She picked one up and pointed out various personal notations. “On this side is the year and their initials, and on this one—” She flipped it over. “—is an engraving of a peony, which was my mother’s favorite.”
“It’srather romantic,” Mr. Cade said with a certain melancholy in his tone. “I wish I would have thought to do something like that for Martha. She would have loved it.”
Elise’s smile slipped. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cade. I didn’t mean—”
He waved off her apology. “There’s nothing we can do about the past. We just have to push forward and hope that tomorrow treats us better.”
She nodded in silent agreement and split up the coins into even amounts between them.
He picked up the deck and began to shuffle with all the talent of a riverboat gambler. She had come across a fewsuchrowdy sorts at the inn when they passed by on the Canadian River and stoppedfor a brief visitwhen traveling throughCharming. Elise had observed some of their game play while Grannie stood at her side and made sure order was kept.
With this in mind, she asked, “I haven’t just challenged a card sharp, have I?”
He chuckled. “Rest assured, I’ve never had to resort to trickery to win a hand.”When he was ready to pass out the cards, he said, “Place your ante.”
She placed two coins on the table between them, which he matched.
