Page 67 of Native Hawk
She ran her hands over her shoulders, remembering his velvety touch on her skin and his sultry whispers against her hair.
It was obvious that Drew coveted her. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man laying a finger on her. If only he could see how much he needed her, maybe he wouldn’t be in such a hurry to run away.
But the day was rapidly approaching. She couldn’t afford the luxury of a leisurely morning. She’d just lost all her money, after all, and was starting over again with her job as a housekeeper. So she hastily dressed, planning to clean The Parlor before she began to attack her feather-infested bedroom.
When she opened the door, she was glad to see the bottle that had struck it in the middle of the night had been swept up. But when she stepped out onto the balcony, the sight below took her breath away.
The salon was spotless.
To be sure, there were fewer chairs, and a table was missing. Portions of the carpet were torn, and in some places, the wallpaper was beyond repair.
But all the glass and splinters of wood had been swept away. The counters, tabletops, and mirror gleamed. The wooden floors were scrubbed. Even the one unbroken vase that remained had been filled with blooms. True, there were a few weeds tucked in among them. But there was no question in Catalina’s mind that this was the work of kindhearted Drew.
Moved to a watery smile by his generosity, she pressed a hand to her breast. Such generosity deserved a kind gesture in return.
She knew what he would like, what would make him most happy, what would make him glad that he had stayed in Paradise.
She would show him the kind of pleasure he had given her last night. She would confer with the other ladies to discover the best method. And then she would give him a night to remember.
Drew eyed the silver star peeking out from under the coat of the man across the table from him. Normally, he didn’t like playing poker with lawmen. Sore losers were bad enough. But when their right hand was holding bad cards and their left was the strong arm of the law, it was a dangerous combination.
Still, today it was worth the risk. He needed to win enough money, not only to buy Cat’s company tonight, but also for the wedding ring he planned to give her tomorrow.
Fortunately, though he still didn’t believe it was his fault, he’d worked off what Miss Hattie felt he owed for the damages to the salon by cleaning up the mess. To be honest, the grateful embrace and gushing thanks from Cat had been far more valuable to him than Miss Hattie’s dismissal of his debt.
Besides, Sheriff Campbell seemed like a decent sort. He was a bit tipsy for this early in the day. But he was a good enough fellow, and his tells were easy to spot. Every time he was dealt a favorable hand, he straightened visibly in his chair. And every time he bluffed, his eye twitched.
The other two players were only slightly more challenging.
Ed sniffed when he was holding winning cards. And Greg stroked his bushy beard when he had a good hand.
Halfway through the day, the good sheriff was soused enough to start waxing poetic about his lady love. According to Campbell, the sun rose and set on his Maggie Ellen, and he intended to marry her one day soon, as soon as he had the funds to buy a nice place with a proper yard and a pretty little chicken coop.
Drew feared that might take a while at the rate the sheriff was losing money. But though Drew was careful not to let the pot get too high, there was no hiding the fact that he was slowly robbing the sheriff of his bank.
In order to keep Ed and Greg in the game, Drew made it worth their while, losing just often enough to make them happy.
Meanwhile, every time Miss Hattie came by with refills of whiskey for the sheriff, she gave Drew a pointed look of warning. He returned her look with a subtle nod, letting her know he was well aware he was going up against a man with the power to string him up if he didn’t like the look of his cards.
Dollar by patient dollar, Drew managed to move the pile of coins to his side of the table. By mid-afternoon, he had almost enough to pay for Catalina. But by late afternoon, he could tell that Ed and Greg were growing bored of the game.
If he was lucky, he could get to the jeweler’s shop before it closed. First, however, he’d have to place one last big wager…and win.
An opportunity arose three hands later. After the draw, Ed sniffed, Greg stroked his beard, and the sheriff sat up straight. By the signs, all three of them thought they had winning cards. But when Drew glimpsed the four handsome jacks sitting shoulder to shoulder in his hand, he knew this was his chance.
He tossed out a modest bet of a half-dollar.
Overconfident, the other two met his bet, and Greg raised it by another half-dollar. Twice more the wager circled, until the pot was over fifteen dollars and Ed needed to add three dollars to call.
Ed couldn’t spare it, so he folded.
Sheriff Campbell tossed back a shot of whiskey, exhaled, and then pushed his last eight dollars into the middle of the table.
“All in,” he said with a grin of self-assurance, “for Maggie Ellen.”
Greg cussed and folded.
Drew stared at the pile—twenty-three dollars—then glanced up at the sheriff. Of course, there was always a slim chance that Campbell was holding four aces or a straight flush. Hell, he might have a royal flush.
