Chapter 21
I bite the inside of my cheek, battling a ridiculous grin as I look down and again read over the note I have hidden in my hand beneath the table.
I’d never expected him to write back and I’m so distracted trying to figure out what it means that I almost miss my turn to play when it comes around the table, quickly covering by tossing a few bills in the middle though I’m not sure if I’ve even really looked at my cards. And I really should because…
It’s a good sign, right? He’s asking to see me. Wants me to be in the alley after tonight’s game, although, of course I will be. Where else would I want to be?
“Cypress?” Clayton gives me a friendly nudge. “You all right?”
“Fantastic,” I say, a bit too enthusiastically, because now that I actually do check my hand, it contains very little that deserves it. “Fantastic night, that is. Good weather. No rain.” I clear my throat, shocked at how truly terrible that explanation was. “Are we…who is…”
I trail off as Clayton starts laughing. “Find yourself a pretty distraction while you’re here?
” He tips his head in the direction of the note, and I quickly tuck it out of sight in my pocket before giving him nothing more than a wry smile.
He nods, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.
“Who is she? I’ll bet you anything that I know her. ”
“Not like I do,” I say, refusing to let my eyes drift toward the bar.
To that broody cowboy, who unlike me is absent his usual hat tonight and had looked very unenthused about it when he’d placed it on the back of his chair along with his coat.
Though I have to say, that full head of soft brown waves on display is also not making it very easy to focus.
“You won’t even give me a hint?” Clayton asks.
I shake my head. “Not a one.”
Clayton raises an eyebrow. “Married?”
“Not yet.”
“A secret?”
“For now.”
“And you’re in love?”
I sigh. “In a way that is life-altering.”
Clayton lets out another laugh. “The two of you had better slip out of town and run for it then before anyone can convince you otherwise.”
I eye the wedding band on his left hand. “That what you did?”
“What I wish I’d done,” he says, looking momentarily sad before giving me a wink. “Don’t look back when you do.”
For the second time today, I’m reminded of how much I like Clayton, the first being when I caught him out on the street to talk before the game.
As I had a feeling he would, he’d immediately agreed to keep Arty’s involvement with the sheriff a secret, even expressed regret at making him go in the first place.
“I was worried if I left, it might be Aiden on his own,” he had told me, frowning deeply, while the very idea of it also made me drift toward rage. “I know you were doing your best to put a stop to things as well. Seemed the easiest solution in the moment.”
“It was,” I reassured him. “But Maddock is the type to—”
“I know exactly the type he is,” Clayton replied, his look of guilt turning to one of disdain. “Which is why I’m back tonight. Needs addressing. I’ve already spoken to the bartender about watering down Maddock’s whiskey.”
“He’ll still do his best to make your night miserable. Sober or not,” I told him, while giving him a grateful smile. “You sure you’re not just a glutton for punishment?”
“For his punishment? Yes,” Clayton replied, now sounding angry, too. “I’ve known too many like him. Many during a time when I did not have the power to make their lives more difficult. If you get my meaning.”
“Very well,” I’d admitted, even more honest than I normally would be, in part because talking about Aiden made me almost as anxious as the note had to get inside quickly. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”
“No,” he said, openly considering me. “Had a feeling I might not. You’re ready then?”
“Of course.” I was already heading for the door and wondering how long it would be until I came back out to the alley. “Been waiting.”
Thinking about it now, the exchange should have left me more uneasy than it did. If Clayton has been able to work out that I am not entirely as I appear, then it means others could have, too. And given that I have already slipped more than once in front of Maddock…
Across the table, the man in question stares at his cards, the fact that he’s playing fairly well meaning he hasn’t bore much malice toward anyone else at the table so far. Still, the night is young.
“Fold,” he says, tossing down his cards like a child tosses down a toy that no longer pleases them, and the couple of his men that were still in the game quickly follow suit. Likely regardless of if they had a hand that could have kept them in.
Can’t win if the boss doesn’t.
“What about you, Cypress?” Charley asks, still in it along with Clayton and me. “You actually going to play at some point this week or are you just going to keep sitting there all moony-eyed?”
Damn. Really isn’t just Clayton that’s noticed then.
I smile, leaning forward with my elbows on the table and my hands clasped in front of me. “Can you blame me, Charley? When I have your sparkling blue eyes to stare at?”
“They’re green, you horse’s ass,” he replies, though I catch a grin hiding in the wrinkles on his face. “You’re lucky my wife isn’t here. Saying stuff like that.”
“Why? Wouldn’t she agree?”
“She would,” he says, smile broadening. “Which is why you’re lucky.”
Almost everyone at the table laughs, except Maddock, who has the type of dismal expression on his face that makes him look even worse than he had this morning.
“Are you all going to finish the hand or not?” he asks, sitting with his arms folded across his chest. “Barely worth it if we can’t make it through more than a few rounds. ”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes before setting my cards face down on the table, still not entirely sure what I even have in hand because Aiden’s just stood to stretch and I’m too busy sneaking glances at the long expanse of his back as he leans against the bar.
At the way his shoulders and biceps pull the fabric of his dark shirt taut.
At the way he drags a hand across the whiskers on his jaw and— “Fold.”
There’s another short round of laughter, their heads shaking at my expense before Clayton claps me on the back in sympathy and leans in to mutter, “You sure you’re ready to do this?”
“Without question,” I say, pulling my gaze away from Aiden as something about the seriousness in his tone in contrast to the lightness I feel finally catches me. “Wait, ready to—”
“You might as well go ahead and start simply making donations at this point,” Maddock says before I can get my question out, unable to resist making a comment about my loss if it’ll make his own smart less. “If you’re going to play, at least try to make it interesting.”
“Well, that’s not a bad idea, Maddock,” Clayton replies for me, setting down a straight flush and smiling when Charley promptly swears and drops his own cards. “We could make things more interesting.”
I glance sideways at him, and his subtle nod tells me he thinks we’re on the same page. Only, I don’t even know what book we’re reading. Apparently I should have let Clayton explain it to me after all. Damn it. What have I agreed to?
“You have something in mind?” Maddock is asking, nearly echoing my silent question, and I do my best to keep my face neutral but interested as I get ready to pivot my plans. “Higher limit?”
“How about no limit?” Clayton responds, gathering up the healthy stack of new additions to his winnings. “We go as high as that dwindling pocketbook of yours will allow.”
No, I think, finally understanding what he’s doing and answering his question far too late. Ordinarily, I’d take the opportunity being presented to me. Take everything. But I can’t. Not now… I’m not ready.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about my pocketbook,” Maddock counters, rising to the challenge as expected. “Yours will run dry long before mine does.”
I risk another glance in the direction of the bar, only to find Aiden looking back this time, and my face must not be nearly as neutral as I thought because his brow furrows. Shit. I’m playing this whole thing worse than I ever have and the stakes could not be any higher than they are right now.
Except, apparently they can be.
Clayton shrugs, tilting his head from side to side in thought before pulling a fresh cigar out of his coat. “How about property? You got something you can stand to lose?”
I can’t do this now. I haven’t explained things to Aiden. I’d been counting on the ride tonight, on our time in the alley to try. He won’t know. And, if I start playing to win and end up having to run, I don’t know if I’ll be able to turn around.
I might not be able to get back to him. Again.
“Pretty sure you’re the only one here with property nearby,” Maddock is saying to Clayton, tone dismissive. “Not all of us are so familiar in this town.”
Clayton chuckles, not remotely concerned about Maddock hinting that he’s unhappy with him calling for the sheriff the night before. Although, to my right, I feel Arty tense, and I do what I hope is a very inconspicuous shake of my head. Only one of us needs to be giving themselves away tonight.
“You have cattle, don’t you?” Clayton raises. “A significant number not far outside town from what I hear. Wager a few head.”
Maddock’s jaw clenches, and I suspect he couldn’t bet them even if he wanted to. They don’t belong to him. Not really. Not until his family decides to pass the reins or die. And from what I’ve seen so far, I’m inclined to believe it’ll probably be the latter.
“What would you even want with cattle?” Maddock asks, laughing, but there’s no humor to it. “You even know how to make a living doing something other than digging in the dirt?”
“Likely better than you do,” Clayton says easily, still calmly counting his winnings while also coming to the same conclusion I did. “You know how to make a living doing something other than what your mama says?”
One of Maddock’s men snorts out a laugh, then promptly regrets it as the clear fury on Maddock’s face from Clayton’s perfectly aimed insult changes targets.
“Sorry, boss,” he says, eyes wide. “Wasn’t laughin’ at you. Was just—was only—”
“No limits,” Maddock agrees, stopping the man’s rambling before looking back at Clayton. “And we can wager horses. When your money runs out.”
Horses. Immediately, I remember what Aiden said last night, about his deal with Maddock, that he’d get that horse he won’t name at the end of the week.
That he was counting on it so he could cut himself loose from the group, because as of right now, the poor animal still belongs to Maddock.
And based on the looks of the other men at the table, I’m certain he’s not the only one in that predicament, though I’m surprised by the one who actually speaks up.
“Boss,” Arty says, so near to a whisper that I’m amazed I can hear him, let alone anyone else. “We need them horses, don’t we? To work the cattle?”
“What we need is for you to keep your goddamn mouth shut,” Maddock snaps, jamming a finger in Arty’s direction. “You hear me?”
“Yes, sir. I was only thinkin’—”
“Don’t,” Maddock says, voice cold. “Do us all a favor and don’t think.” He rounds back to Clayton. “We’re agreed?”
Clayton frowns, gaze flicking between Arty and Maddock with an increasingly determined set to his expression. “Agreed.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him then glance to me, waiting, expectant, but I’m already staring at Aiden. At the way his frown deepens before his eyes drop to the table in front of me, to where my fingers are tapping against the surface. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I force myself to stop and reply, “Agreed.”
“Not me,” Charley says, already getting to his feet.
“I’m too old for this foolishness. And so is my horse.
” He puts his hat on, giving Clayton and me each a pat on the shoulder as he walks by, even lingering to give Arty one, too.
“I’d tell all you boys that you ought to go to bed, but I know you won’t listen.
So I’ll only say that I’ll be seeing you. Hopefully.”
Maddock rolls his eyes, not letting him get more than a few paces away before he points at each of his men and says, “You’re all playing.”
Each of them, except Arty—who is still staring at his lap—blink at him in confusion. “But, boss,” starts the same one who had laughed before. “We don’t—”
“I’m not asking,” Maddock barks, then to the dealer says, “Deal ‘em in.”
I don’t have to play to win. I can still lose. After all these years, I’ve become really good at losing until the time is right. And I can continue to do so, no matter how much it’ll cost me to stay at this table all night. If it will simply buy me time, it will be worth it.
It doesn’t have to be me that teaches Maddock a lesson. I can let it be Clayton. I don’t mind Maddock’s money going to him. I can be at peace with that. Don’t mind the horses going to him either…
Well, except one.
And wouldn’t you know, it’s the same one Maddock bets without hesitation not three deals later. Deals be damned.
And that’s when I realize maybe I’m not as good at losing as I think I am.