Page 51 of New Storm Rising
“Oh, you seem enthusiastic all of a sudden, dear. Craving a cup of tea as well, are yo—oh my goodness gracious, what is that awful smell!”
“Welcome to the saloon. Isn’t it picturesque?”
“Agh! Gagh!”
“Come along, Madam! You’re looking for suitors for your lovely daughters, aren’t you? Those gentlemen over there look nice!”
Grinning, I slumped in an empty chair, and waved at the four grimy, gap-toothed grunts who were swilling, smoking, and playing poker.
“Hello, gentlemen! That looks like a fascinating game you are playing there. What is its name? What do all the pretty pictures on the cards mean? Can we learn to play, too?”
The men stared at me for a long moment—then turned to grin at each other, displaying their missing teeth to great effect.
“Sure, sweetheart! We’d love to…play with you.”
“Um…” Mrs Eloise Grant cleared her throat. “Are you sure this is such a good idea, Miss?”
“Of course! Just look at those sweet, innocent faces!” I gestured at the mugs of the crooks around me. “You can just tell they’re true gentlemen, helpful, warm-hearted and honourable.”
“Um…yes?”
The hesitant mother and daughters found themselves dragged down into chairs and firmly stuck between the smirking men.
“So…” I enquired eagerly, batting my eyelashes at the man with the fewest teeth, who, following Wild West logic, obviously had to be the best at gambling. “How do you play this game?”
“Well…” the man’s grin widened. “The first thing you do is put all your money on this pile in the centre of the table here…”
The man began describing the rules of poker in a highly intriguing and unusual kind of way. My oh my! I had never known the rules of this game had changed so much since I’d last played it with Amy, oh, about…three weeks ago? That was really impressive. And it was so kind of this gentleman to explain to me all the ways in which poker had suddenly become riskier and far more expensive. Weren’t they wonderfully nice men? To repay them, I would have to do myvery bestat gambling.
Just as I was about to reach for my cards, I heard the creak of the door, followed by a strangled sort of croak from the surrounding patrons. Glancing up, I caught sight of a certain turbaned mountain who had just stepped into the saloon and was staring at where I sat among the heavily armed desperados.
I waved.
Karim raised his hand to wave back—before he realized what the hell he was doing, slapped his hand down and sent me a glare. A glare that shifted to a look of horror when he saw what I was wearing, what I was doing, and who I was doing it with.
Go find my hubby,I mouthed.I think I’m gonna need some extra money!
I had never seen Karim run so fast before.
“Now, gentlemen,” I said, turning back to the men at the table with a broad smile. “Do I hold the cards with the pretty pictures facing towards or away from me?”
***
Silence had descended over the saloon. This was not, as one might suspect, due to the fact that it was the establishment’s closing time. It wasn’t even due to, God forbid, Mr Rikkard Ambrose being present and glaring at the patrons. No, the silence in the saloon was mostly due to the fact that every single person present was staring open-mouthed at a certain table in the centre of the floor.
“Now,” I asked, innocently, “what does it mean when you’ve got a king, queen, some random fellow, as well as a ten, and an…ace? All in the same colour?”
“That,” one of the men at the table squeezed out between clenched teeth, “is called a royal flush.”
“Ooh!” Glancing between the men and the giant heap of winnings in front of me, I batted my eyelashes up at them. “So, does that mean I’ve got to find a queen’s bathroom now?”
The man’s fingers twitched, moving just a little towards his revolver. “No. That means you win everything.”
“Does it, now?” A delighted smile spread across my face, and instantly, I swept up any and all money within reach. “Why, thank you so much! I would never have known!”
“Is that right?” the man growled, his teeth grinding audibly. “You seem…amazingly lucky.”
“Yes, spiffing, isn’t it?” Nodding jovially, I started counting money. One hundred dollars, two hundred dollars…hm, that chubby fellow with the weird hairdo was looking more and more handsome. “Let’s play another round!”
