The Wrangler (18 page)

"Don't be too sure about that." She swung down, her skin prickling with awareness as their gloves touched. "Trouble finds me."

"That it does." Tenderness glinted in his dark eyes. "Try to avoid it tonight, will you?"

"I'll do my best." Which might be impossible, since she headed next door to Left-Hand Louie's. She gathered her fortitude, straightened her spine and strode through the swinging doors. She needed higher stakes. She wanted to make her payment and hand it over to Tannen tonight. Then she would only have one more for him to hold over her head.

"Got a payment for me?" the burly barman hollered out when he spotted her. "I won't let ya in here otherwise."

In answer, she strode up to the bar and slapped a silver eagle on the scarred oak counter. Since she wanted her mustache to stay firmly in place, there was only one thing she could order. "A sarsaparilla."

"City Boy." Louie shook his head and slid a bottle across the counter.

She caught it and took a sip. Games were in full swing, the piano player pounding out a tune and cigar smoke tainted the air and obscured the overhead lanterns. She studied faces, looking for the same men she'd played with last time she was here. No such luck.

She knew the moment Dakota walked in. His presence moved through her like moonlight through the night sky, setting everything aglow.

"Thought you'd need a few friends, Howie." Dakota's dark eyes chastised her. He didn't approve of her in this rougher saloon, but he stood by her. She liked that about him, too.

"Outlaw told us what Tannen did." Baldy yanked out a chair at a nearby table, gesturing for the other men playing a penny ante game to leave. "Ain't right what he's doing."

"He pushes everyone around in this town." Vince took a newly vacated seat. "He wants his land back, that's all. He's playing with you right now, but likely he'll get meaner."

Meaner? Kit couldn't seem to hop off the bar stool. Probably because her heart had stopped beating. Tannen was playing with her? Did that mean the worst was yet to come?

"I advised your brother not to sign that document." Vince gave an apologetic shrug. "Hubert had four aces and was in no mood to listen to me."

"That was P—Hubert," she corrected herself.

"Don't you worry a bit, young man. We'll help ya out." Skinny reassured her as he stopped by the bar to gather up two bottles of whiskey—one for him and one for Baldy. "We'll call over some of our buddies. We won't tell 'em you kin play as good as you do."

"You'll make that payment in no time. Everyone here thinks the city boy is an easy win." Zeb waved at someone across the saloon. "Hey, One Eye! C'mon over and meet Howie."

"Guess you're not as alone as you think." Dakota's arm nudged her.

"I guess not." It felt good, even though they thought she was Howie. One Eye came over, a robust cowboy with an eye patch who worked at a ranch west of town.

"I've been playin' since I was knee high, so I'll go easy on you, City Boy." One Eye took the chair next to Zeb. "Had the pleasure of playin' against your brother. He had a magic touch."

"He surely did." She couldn't seem to move away from Dakota.

"Go on," he said. "I'll keep watch over you."

The old Kit wouldn't have wanted any man watching out for her. But Dakota had lowered her defenses, and she was no longer the same.

Luck was with her. The table filled up fast, and soon there were ten players crammed elbow to elbow, all invited in by her friends. The competition was tough, but she won more hands than she lost. Next thing she knew, Vince had cashed out and his chair was taken by another eager to get in on the fast moving game. The ante grew along with the size of the pot, and she had sixty dollars in winnings stacked on the table in front of her. Counting the money in her pocket, she had twenty more to go.

"Outlaw!" Dewayne called from the doorway. "Got to see you for a minute. Come outside."

"I'll be back." Dakota touched her shoulder, and left. She tried not to watch him. She tried to keep her attention on the game.

"Too rich for me," One Eye said, pushing away from the table. "Anyone want to take my place?"

"I'll take a shot."

At the sound of that familiar voice a chill snaked down her spine. Tannen bellied up to the table and set down his drink. "Howie. Remember the last time we met?"

"Nope. Not memorable enough to recall."

"You landed on your back and tasted the dirt on my boot." Tannen dropped a handful of silver eagles and greenbacks on the table. "Can't see how this is gonna turn out any different this time."

"You mean with me holding a gun to you?"

Guffaws rang out around the table. Tannen's face went red. He tossed ten dollars in the pot, studying her across the table, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed with a message. He intended to destroy her tonight. Well, she intended not to let him.

"Too rich for me." She winced at the tinny sound of her voice. "I'm out."

She went to push away from the table and gather what remained of her winnings.

Tannen stopped her. "You'll play. Sit down and ante up."

"I'm not going to play you." The noise in the saloon crescendoed, something was happening in the corner. A fight of some kind, hard to tell what through the haze of smoke but it snagged everyone's attention.

Tannen's hand snaked around her wrist. He leaned over the table until they were nose to nose, until only she could hear. "You'll sit down and you'll play with me, or something will happen to that outlaw. You don't want to be responsible for that, Kit."

So, Tannen had figured it out.

"It was the hat that tipped me off," he said.

The one thing she hadn't changed about her appearance. She touched the brim and sank back into her chair.

"Let's play." Tannen tossed a fifty into the center of the table. "It'll be just me and the city boy. Start dealing, Skinny."

Even before she saw her cards, she knew it was an unlucky hand. All low cards, different suits. She kept the highest card and signaled Skinny for new ones. No better. The pit in her stomach widened. She barely glanced at them. A pair of fives. A small improvement.

"It's my guess you've got an unlucky hand." Tannen knocked back a swallow of whiskey. "Take my advice. It might be tempting, but don't fold."

Her gut told her she was in trouble either way. "This is a free country. I can fold if I want to."

"All it takes is a signal from me." Tannen gestured with his whiskey glass toward the front window, giving a plain view of the street where Dakota stood, hands out, calling Blue to him. Someone must have untied his reins and frightened the horse away. "That wound to his arm looks like it's nearly healed up. He might not be as lucky next time. Then again, someone might miss him and get the horse."

She counted out two tens and added them to the money pile. Sweat popped out everywhere as she watched Blue step up to Dakota. The big man held him gently, rubbed his nose, seized hold of the reins.

"I'm going to get a lot of pleasure tossing you off my property." Tannen added a twenty to the pot. "Hubert cheated me out of my land, he pulled a fast one on me."

"You mean he beat you fair and square?"

"I never got my satisfaction from him, but I'll get it from you. Someone's gotta pay for all my aggravation." Tannen paused to drain his glass. "Go ahead, raise me. That'll be all your money."

"This ain't right, Tannen," Skinny spoke up. "I've seen ya do this before. Howie ain't done you wrong."

Tannen's fist shot out, hit the old man in the jaw and he went down like a sack of flour.

"He'll be fine." Tannen snared her wrist with bruising force, keeping her in her chair. "I'm raising you one hundred dollars."

He shoved the bills across the table with his free hand. "All you've got is that land. Toss in the deed."

"No."

"Maybe this'll change your mind. I've been keeping tabs on you. Don't think I didn't hear you talking over plans to catch mustangs with your brother and sister. She's awful pretty. I like my women feisty like you. I like it when they fight, but I could go for a sweet one this time 'round. They've got no fight, but there's nuthin' like sweet and young."

Her jaw dropped, not quite able to process the words. "You'd hurt my sister?"

"If I'm in a bad mood. Winning that deed back could put me in a better mood." His gaze went flat and she looked into the soul of the real Tannen Sinclair.

"I-I don't have the deed with me."

"I'll take an I-owe-you." He reached in his vest pocket and threw down a pencil stub and a piece of paper. "Write it down."

Her hand shook as she reached for the pencil. She couldn’t do this, she couldn't bet her land. But it wasn't worth anyone's life. No dream was worth that. She cut her gaze to the window, framing Dakota, tying up Blue. The stallion nibbled his rescuer's shirt affectionately and then tried to steal his hat.

That told her everything she needed to know about Dakota Black. Blue adored him.

She did, too.

Chapter Fourteen

"All right." Her hand was too numb to hold the pencil. She tried again. What choice did she have? Everything she'd worked for was lost, but she could save the people she cared about.

That was something a man like Tannen didn't understand, but he knew to use it like a weapon to get what he wanted. He had the money to pay for the men at his side, the ones who were silently circling the table with hands resting on their holstered revolvers. Others could be outside watching Dakota. Or at the ranch sitting on that rise, watching Mindy.

She set the pencil point to the paper and began to write.

"Not so fast." Dakota broke into the ring around the table, his face was set for a fight. "Don't do it, Kit."

"I have to." She loved the fierce fire snapping in his midnight eyes. "This is for the best."

"No it isn't. How much are you short?" He reached into his pocket.

"Ten dollars." The words felt torn from her. What if they hurt him now? Tannen's gunman had shot him in plain view on the street that night. She knew it could happen here.

Ten dollars landed on the table. "She calls."

"That might not be wise, Outlaw." Tannen leaned his chair back. "You're outgunned."

"I don't care. Show your cards."

The saloon silenced as Tannen spread out his hand. A pair of aces.

"Sorry,
Howie
." Tannen's tone mocked, it laughed, it dripped with superiority. "You can't beat that. Looks like you lose."

The lights went out in the room, the floor gave way beneath her feet. It wasn’t the game or the ranch. It was Dakota. And Mindy. Would they be safe? She squeezed her eyes shut as the silence exploded all around her. Some gamblers cheered Tannen's win, others booed it. Shouts of consolation rose up, rumbles of conservation discussing the game. She went cold from head to toe.

"Skinny, are you okay? Stand up here and tell me something." Dakota's words cannoned above the noise. "Are these your cards?"

"Yessir. It's my lucky deck."

"Would you go through it?" Dakota stood, rising up above the crowd. "Make sure there aren't any extra aces."

"Will do." Skinny rubbed his bruised jaw and pulled out his chair.

"What are you up to, Outlaw?" Tannen drew his colt.

But not quick enough. Dakota's hand was a blur, but not the Colt cocked and aimed at Tannen's chest. The other men had drawn, but it didn't seem to concern him. "Leave it in the holster, Tannen. If you don't want to get shot, tell your men to do the same. We're going to verify you won fair and square. Howdy, Sheriff."

"Howdy." Beauregard ambled into the saloon, his weathered face inscrutable, his eyes assessing beneath bushy brows. Folks made way for him. "Keep going, Skinny. Let's see how this plays out."

Looked like Dewayne had come through. The tailor stepped in, met Dakota's gaze and nodded. Getting the law had been the right thing, even if it came with a risk. What if Beauregard remembered? Well, it was a chance he had to take. He holstered his revolver, trying to hide the fact that his hand was quaking. He swallowed and his mouth felt full of sand.

"You'll pay for this, Outlaw," Tannen whispered.

"Fine by me." He didn't know what Sinclair had said to Kit to get her to bet her land, but he had a guess. Someone had scared and untied Blue for a reason.

"I got a duplicate card." Skinny shook his head, as if not believing what he was seeing. "An ace of hearts."

He set the card on the table for all to see. The same card that was in Tannen's winning hand.

"They set me up!" Tannen punched his fist to the table, blocking the dealer from counting his cards. "Makin' me look bad."

"Seems like you're doing that all by yourself." Beauregard planted his hands on his hips, shouting to be heard above the ruckus. "You know the house rules. Cheaters forfeit the pot."

"I'd be careful if I was you, Sheriff." Tannen eased back, his glare threatening. "Election time is coming up soon."

"I'm well aware. That doesn't change the facts." Beauregard stood firm. "Want to roll up your sleeves? Go on, prove you weren't cheating."

"I don't want to be in this filthy saloon anyway." Tannen smashed his glass to the floor. "Do you want me to tell them your secret, Howie?"

"Go ahead." She stood up, refusing to be afraid of him. There were worse things than her secret getting out. "Skinny, I'm curious. Would I have won?"

"I have another ace here. An ace of spades," he chimed in. "Guessing you would have. Good going, City Boy."

"The pot is yours, Howie," the sheriff said. "Move along, Tannen."

"Wait." She counted out one hundred dollars from the table and shoved it across to him. "That's your next payment."

"You still owe me another hundred," Tannen said from between clenched teeth. "This ain't over yet."

"Yes, it is." Dakota reached into his pocket. "Here's fifty-one dollars. It's all I have."

"Here's ten," Skinny said, adding to the pile.

"Another ten." Vince leaned in to slap a greenback onto the table.

"I got five," Baldy said, tossing in five silver eagles.

"I have five, too," Zeb called out.