Page 26 of Irish Rose
“You could say my luck was on an upswing at the time.”
“Gambling’s no way to make a living.”
“It beats sweeping floors.”
Since she could only agree, Erin fell silent a moment. “Did you know about horses before?”
“I knew they had four legs, but when you’ve got your money riding on a game, you learn fast. Where did you learn to keep books?”
“Arithmetic came easily to me. When I could I took courses in school, then I started to run the books at the farm. It was more satisfying than morning milking. Then, because everyone knows what everyone else is up to back home, I found myself working for Mrs. Malloy, then Mr. O’Donnelly. I worked for Francis Duggan at the market for a time, too, but his son Donald thought I should marry him and have ten children, so I had to let that job go.”
“You didn’t want to marry Donald Duggan?”
“And spend my life counting potatoes and turnips? No, thank you. It came to the point where I knew I had to either black both his eyes or give up the job. It seemed easier to give up the job. What are you smiling at?”
“I was just thinking that Donald Duggan was lucky you didn’t carry a rake.”
Erin tilted her head as she studied him. “It’s you who’re lucky I held myself back.” Comfortable now, she tucked her legs under her and sipped her cooling coffee. “Tell me about the horse you’re racing today.”
“Double Bluff, he’s a two-year-old. Temperamental and nervy unless he’s running. He’s proved himself from his first race, took the Florida Derby last weekend. That’s the biggest purse in the state.”
“Aye, I heard Travis mention it. He seems to think this horse is the best he’s seen in a decade. Is it?”
“Might be. In any case, he’ll be my Derby entry this year. His sire won over a million dollars in purses in his career, and his dam was the offspring of a Triple Crown winner. Likes to come from behind, on the outside.” He took another puff, and again Erin noticed the scar along his knuckles.
“You sound as though you’re fond of him.”
He was, and that fact was a constant surprise. Burke only shrugged. “He’s a winner.”
“What about the one you bought in Ireland, the one who kicked you?”
“I’m going to start him off locally—Charles Town, Laurel, Pimlico, so I can keep an eye on him. If my hunch is right, he’ll double what I paid for him in a year.”
“And if your hunch was wrong?”
“They aren’t often. In any case, I’d still consider my trip to Ireland paid off.”
She wasn’t completely comfortable with the way he looked at her. “Being a gambler,” she said evenly, “you’d know how to lose.”
“I know how to win better.”
She set her coffee down. “How did you get the scar on your hand?”
He didn’t glance at it as most people would, but tapped out his cigar as he watched her. “Broken bottle of Texas Star in a bar fight outside of El Paso. There was a disagreement over a hand of seven-card stud and a pretty blonde.”
“Did you win?”
“The hand. The woman wasn’t worth it.”
“I suppose it makes more sense to gash your hand open over a game of cards than it does for a woman.”
“Depends.”
“On what? The woman?”
“On the game, Irish. It always depends on the game.”
When they arrived, Erin stepped off the plane into another new world. Burke had told her to leave her coat on the plane, but even so she hadn’t been expecting the warmth or the glare of the sun.
