Chasing Rainbows (8 page)

So they had been on the right path, Annie thought. The trail they had been following led directly toward those canyons.

“How many are there?” Jake asked.

The bartender shrugged. “Four, maybe five. But they’re mean sons of bitches, and they’ve got plenty of ammo.”

“Appreciate the warning,” Jake said, then turned his attention to the crowd at large. “Gentlemen, despite our recent setbacks, I can’t help but feel that this is my lucky night. Anyone here up for a friendly game of poker?”

“We don’t play for chits here. You hiding your money in your boots, mister?” demanded a voice from the back of the room.

“Nope. But I reckon they ought to be good for something.” Jake sat down and pulled off his finely tooled black leather boots and set them on the bar beside his Stetson. “Those were both custom-made for me out in Denver City. Boots cost me seventy-five dollars, the hat cost fifty. Any bidders?”

“I’ll give you ten dollars for both,” said the same man who had spoken before. He pulled a bill from his wallet and held it up. “Probably ain’t worth that much, but I reckon I can sell ’em in my store.”

A miner stood up to counter the offer, but the first man shot him a look that had him sitting back down real quick. Annie knew the man’s type. He was big and brawny, with fair hair and tiny blue eyes that reminded her of a pig’s. He had the look of a bully written all over him.

“Take it or leave it, mister,” he said to Jake, an expression of smug satisfaction on his face. “Looks like that’s the best offer you’re gonna get.”

It was an insulting amount. Jake had to know that as well as she did. But surprisingly he didn’t turn it down.

“Why, that’s mighty generous, friend,” he said instead, smiling politely. If not for the cool, deadly frost that had returned to his eyes, Annie would have thought him completely unaware of how patently he was being taken in.

“I thought so.” The big man slapped the bill on the bar and reached for Jake’s boots.

Jake caught his arm. “I assume you’ll give me the opportunity to buy those back at the end of the night.”

“Sure I will. Unfortunately the price just went up. I figure quality items like these oughta sell for about a hundred dollars.” He shook off Jake’s arm and smiled. “But I tell you what. Since they’re secondhand, and you and your friend there have had such a rough night, I’ll sell them to you for ninety-five.”

A collective hush fell over the saloon as the men who had been lounging about suddenly tensed, waiting for the brawl that usually followed an exchange of that nature. If Annie had had her guns, she would have been tempted to shoot the man’s fancy little hat clean off his head. But Jake surprised her by once again exercising a considerable amount of restraint.

He studied the other man in silence, then nodded. “Like I said, you’re a real generous fella.”

The big man looked almost disappointed. “I’m glad you see things my way,” he blustered. “Name’s Connors. You come see me at my dry-goods store when you get the money.”

Annie watched as Jake took a seat with seven other men, including Connors, for a game of stud poker. She frowned, mulling over the exchange. She wouldn’t have pegged Jake for a coward, but that man had flat-out stolen Jake’s boots and hat, and Jake had done nothing to stop him. If someone had tried that on Pete Mundy… hell, he’d be resting six feet under by now.

She took a seat slightly to the left and behind Jake’s chair, watching the play. Jake raked in the first pot. “Beginner’s luck,” he said to the group, then called over his shoulder for a glass of whiskey.

The bartender brought the drink and set it down by Jake’s elbow. He looked at Annie and scowled, saying to Jake, “Sorry, mister, but I’m afraid your lady friend has got to go. We don’t allow no ladies in the saloon — town ordinance.” He shot a dark look at Cat, who sat curled up near Annie’s ankles, and added, “We don’t allow no pets, neither.”

Jake glanced away from his cards and handed the bartender a coin for his drink. “Trust me,” he said loftily, “any woman who’s with me is definitely not a lady. She and the cat stay.”

Annie stiffened as a low rumble of laughter broke out around the table and she was once again the recipient of the men’s rude, speculative stares. “Why, you—” she started, but Jake cut her off.

“You hungry, darlin’?”

As a matter of fact, she was. “Yes.”

Jake glanced up at the bartender. “What are you serving tonight?”

“We got fried oysters, fried chicken, fried steak, or refried beans and tortillas. What do you want?”

Annie asked for chicken, while Jake ordered a steak. It seemed a foolish waste of money, considering the fact that they were both close to buck naked and had barely a nickel between them. But if Jake was going to eat, she sure as hell wasn’t going to go hungry.

Later, with her belly full and her body warmed, Annie relaxed back into her chair and watched the game. Jake won a hand or two, then lost the next several rounds. For a man who supposedly made his living gambling, it was an unimpressive display. Jake seemed to have no strategy at all. He’d see a whopping raise to stay in a hand, then ask for four cards. He’d raise a double eagle on nothing but a pair of twos. All in all, he played like a reckless greenhorn with just a bare knowledge of the fundamentals of poker.

The game seemed to go on endlessly, the soft slapping of the cards nearly lulling her to sleep. Annie’s attention wavered until a sudden quiet tension brought her focus back to the game. A huge pile of coins, pouches of silver dust, and federal greenbacks sat in the middle of the table. Connors, who was dealing that round, held the deck tightly in his fist. “You in or out?” he demanded of Jake.

Jake glanced at his cards, then shoved every cent he had into the pot.

A tight, satisfied smile slipped across Connors’ face. “’Fraid that’s not enough, mister. Looks like the stakes just got a might too high for you to match.”

Jake studied him in silence, then tilted his head toward Annie. “What’ll you give me for her?”

Annie’s heart leapt to her throat. “What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded, bolting up straight in her chair.

Jake lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug, eyeing her intently. “I’m talking about one night with Connors if I lose, or you and I split the pot if I win. What do you say, darlin’? You feeling lucky tonight?”

Connors’ lewd gaze traveled hungrily over her body. “Either way, the lady comes out a winner, don’t she?” he said, a coarse laugh accompanying his words.

Repulsed, Annie turned back to Jake, searching his face for some sign that would help her decide. His expression, however, was completely blank, stripped of any clue as to the value of his cards. He looked, in fact, totally indifferent. He might be holding a royal flush; or the son of a bitch could just be bluffing. She glanced at his whiskey glass, wondering if he’d had one, two, or twenty. She hadn’t been keeping track, and there was no way to tell just by looking at him.

She chewed her bottom lip, wracked with indecision. Connors was a disgusting, arrogant pig, no question about it. If she had to choose between letting him touch her and bathing in a pile of mule dung, she’d pick the mule dung any day. On the other hand, the size of that pot made it a hard bet to turn down. If they won, they would be able to buy clothes, guns and ammunition, and maybe even a horse. Then they could track down those outlaws and get then belongings back. Like Jake had said earlier, going after them on foot and unarmed would be pure crazy. Hell, she’d have a better chance trying to rock a baby to sleep during a buffalo stampede.

She tilted her chin, looking Jake straight in the eye. “Take the bet.” A murmur of excitement shot through the crowd.

Jake nodded. A tiny glimmer of what looked like approval glinted in his steely eyes.

“You heard her, boys, the bet’s on,” Connors declared. The big man confidently set down his cards. “I’ve got a straight, seven high. What have you got, mister?”

“Two pair.”

Annie’s heart sank, then her despair turned to fury. Jake had been bluffing.
Bluffing
. He’d bet every cent he had — and let her risk her own body — on two pair. That selfish, cocky, good-for-nothing, no-account, son of a bitch!

The other man’s face beamed with glee and disgust. “Hell, two pair don’t beat nothing,” he said, reaching for the pot.

Jake coolly smiled. “It does if they’re two pair of queens.” He set his cards on the table. “Four ladies, gentlemen, ace high.”

Connors’ mouth dropped open. “That can’t be,” he stuttered, staring at the cards as though they had grown horns and a tail. “That can’t be.” He lifted-his gaze to Jake, his pink skin turning purple with rage. “That money’s mine, and so’s the woman.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Damned right, it is.”

“Funny, the way I’ve always played the game, four queens beat your puny little straight any day of the week.”

“You cheated, mister. And everybody here saw you.”

“You were holding the deck, Connors.”

The silence was so thick Annie was sure there wasn’t a soul in the room still breathing. While their voices hadn’t been raised, both men kept only their left hands on the table. Their right hands hung low and loose by their sides, ready for a quick draw.

But Jake wasn’t wearing a gun.

Jake was equipped with nothing but his moth-eaten red-flannel underwear. The realization struck Annie with chilling, crystal clarity — at the exact moment that Connors shoved back his chair and reached for his Colt.

Jake shoved back his chair at the same instant… and came to his feet with a gun in his hand — cocked and ready to fire — while Connors was still struggling to bring his Colt into play.

Connors froze, dropping his gun back in his holster. He blinked in disbelief, obviously trying to mentally grasp both Jake’s speed and the gun that seemed to materialize in his hand out of thin air. “How the hell did you do that?” he gasped.

Jake tilted his head toward the man who had been sitting next to him. “Borrowed it.”

Annie’s gaze flew toward the other man, who was studying his holster as though the gun had flown out of it on its own accord. Annie had seen some fast draws in her day, but nothing like that. Jake Moran had moved rattler fast and was obviously every bit as deadly.

“Not very sporting of you, was that, Connors?” he asked, making a tsking noise with his tongue. “Drawing on an unarmed man. Why, I’m beginning to believe there’s no honor left in this world.”

“What the hell would you know about honor, you and that little whore of yours—”

Jake’s gray eyes went black. “You apologize to the lady real pretty like, or I’ll blow your goddamned head off.”

Connors glared at him in silent, bitter refusal. Jake shrugged. “Hell of a stupid thing to die for, mister, but I reckon that’s your choice.” He lifted his gun and shoved it in Connors’ face.

Connors went white, then turned a sickly shade of green. “Jesus! No! I’m sorry — lady, I’m sorry!”

Jake nodded approvingly. “Very good. Now there’s just one more thing.” He paused, smiling. “I want my hat and boots back.”

“You can have ’em, mister. Just get that gun out of my face.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you. Generous, even. But I intend to pay for them fair and square. Annie,” Jake said, his eyes never leaving Connors, “give the man ten dollars.”

Annie plucked a bill from the table and shoved it in Connors’ shirt pocket.

“Now get the hell out of here,” Jake said, pulling back his gun.

Connors backed away, tripping over tables and chairs in his hurry to get out of the saloon.

Jake watched him leave. With a satisfied nod, he returned the borrowed gun. “Next time, pal, keep it loaded, will you?”

The little man who owned the gun gave a nervous, almost hysterical laugh and nodded.

Annie felt a little hysterical herself. Jake’s gun had been empty the entire time? Her stomach flipped and her knees suddenly went weak. That was crazy. Pure and simply crazy.

Jake nonchalantly gathered up the money and dumped it in his hat. Then he looked around the room at his stupefied audience. “It’s a sad shame, ain’t it?” he said, shaking his head. “Some folks just take personal offense at losing.”

A nervous cackle of laughter echoed across the room. The bartender stepped out from behind the bar and looked at Jake approvingly. “You played a straight game, mister,” he announced. “If Connors goes caterwauling to the sheriff, I’ll make sure he gets the story right.” That said, he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “I got a livery out back if you and your friend want to put up for the night.”

“That’s mighty kind. We’d surely appreciate it.”

The bartender nodded. “My pleasure. It’s about time somebody took Connors down a peg or two. I’m just glad I was here to see it.”

Annie followed Jake out of the saloon and down the back alley, which led to the livery. Her mind whirled as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. “You had that planned all along, didn’t you?” she asked. “Using me for the stakes.”

“Yep.”

“How’d you know he’d take that bet?”

Jake stopped and turned to face her. His gaze slowly traveled over her body, moving from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes. She was once again acutely conscious of her near nakedness and the obvious disarray of her hair.

“There ain’t a living, breathing man west of the Mississippi who wouldn’t have taken that bet,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

It was strictly a businesslike appraisal, but Annie felt absurdly flattered nonetheless. “What would you have done if you had lost?”

“Well, I guess that’s a risk I was willing to take.”

The warm glow she’d felt only seconds ago instantly evaporated. “A risk you were willing to take?” she sputtered indignantly. “You? Looked to me like it was my fanny that was tossed in the ante.”

“Then, I guess it would have been your problem.” Jake shrugged. “That, darlin’, is why they call it gambling.”

Annie simply stared at him, struck speechless by his callous disregard at what might have happened to her. “Why, you, you…” she began struggling to find a word strong enough to fit her feelings.