Texas Hold Him (3 page)

Her pretty face had no paint, nor did it need any. No glittering jewels flashed around her slender neck or adorned the curling
blonde hair that had a tendril or two escaping from her chignon. Her demeanor bespoke a true Southern princess, probably dethroned
by the war, now forced to consort with all sorts of lowlifes for some reason unbeknownst to him.

“Dyer? Are you in or out?”

Charles’s voice brought him back to the table with a start. How could he let his mind drift like that? Many men lost a fortune
in that kind of concentration lapse, and he’d be damned if he’d be the next.

“Fold.” Time to take a moment to get his mind back into the game and away from the curvy angel with a mission.

“Gentlemen, I’ll be back shortly.” He pushed himself away from the table and intentionally walked away from Miss Lottie Mace.

Hell. He even remembered her first name.

Dyer stepped outside to the deck and took a deep breath of the warm night air to clear his thoughts.

“Mr. Straights?” her voice called from the door of the gaming room.

He sighed. The woman had the tenacity of a tick.
Maybe if he let her speak her mind, she’d leave him the hell alone. He turned around and leaned against the rail, tipped back
the brim of his hat with one finger, then folded his arms across his chest.

“Yes, Miss Mace. What is it you are so determined to speak to me about?”

She cleared her throat. “I need to employ you for a small ser vice.”

He raised his brows and turned up the corner of his mouth. “And what might that be?” he asked suggestively, hoping to scare
her away.

“I need to learn to play poker, and I’ve been told you are the best on the river. Therefore, I would like to hire you to teach
me.”

Evidently, Miss Mace didn’t scare easily.

“You want me . . .” he pointed to his chest, “to teach you . . .” he pointed to her chest, “to play poker?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

He snorted. “No.” Shoving off the rail, he headed back to the gaming room.

She grabbed his arm as he walked past her. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean as in ‘not yes.’ ” He couldn’t make it any plainer than that.

“Perhaps we could discuss this in the morning, when you’re feeling better.”

Apparently she had trouble understanding
no
. “Yes, let’s do that. How about noon?” He lifted her fingers from his sleeve and walked away, fighting to contain his grin.

“The nerve,” Lottie muttered, relieved that at least this time she wasn’t rendered speechless by the arrogant
Texan as he left her alone on the deck. Before the war, no man would have walked away from her without a proper farewell.
But then, what could she expect from a man with his occupation?

She’d barely recognized Mr. Straights when she’d searched the room earlier. The handsome, clean-shaven man in the expensive
suit was a far cry from the grouchy disheveled one she’d met that morning at his door. At least, he was a far cry from disheveled.
The grouchy part must be a permanent fixture.

She carefully watched her step as she teetered down the gangplank to the dock. As she was passing two boys at the foot of
the ramp, she heard one say to the other, “We’ll be back in four weeks, and I’ll give you the rest of it then.”

“Excuse me,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t help but hear you say you’d be back in four weeks. Is the
Belle
leaving New Orleans?”

The kid nodded. “We’re heading for St. Louis.”

“Surely that doesn’t take four weeks,” she said.

“We’ll be stopping at different ports along the way for a few days. There’s a big poker tournament in St. Louis, and the
Belle
is picking up gamblers on her way.”

She couldn’t wait four weeks to win her money. That cut it too close to the blackmailer’s demands.

“Is Mr. Straights going too?”

“I would reckon so. He’s living on the
Belle
. Besides, I can’t imagine him passing up the chance to win twenty-five thousand dollars.”

Lottie gasped. “
Twenty-five thousand dollars?
”

“Yup,” he answered. “All the big gamblers will be there. It takes a thousand dollars just to enter.”

Her mind whirled through all the things she could
do with twenty-five thousand dollars. She could pay the blackmailer and still have enough to take care of her father for years.
Someone
would win it at the tournament, and it might as well be her.

“What time will the
Belle
be leaving?”

He scratched his head. “The captain usually pulls anchor at dawn.”

So Mr. Straights had agreed to speak with her at noon because he knew he wouldn’t be here. It was an ungentlemanly thing to
do if she’d ever seen one, but she needed his help. She could work on his gentlemanly things later.

Dawn. That gave her just enough time to rush home, give some explanation to her family, and make it back before the
Belle
left port. Luckily, Aunt Dorothy took excellent care of her father, giving no need for concern on that score. But there was
that little issue of how she could afford passage.

Sigh.

It was going to be a long night. “Do you know whom I could speak to about seeking employment?”

Dyer stood on the deck and watched as the good citizens of Baton Rouge boarded the
Magnolia Belle
. Some came to watch, but most came to play. He’d debated joining the gambling to night. The games of the evening before had
gone well into the morning, and his cabin had been so hot he hadn’t gotten more than a few hours’ sleep. But as evening approached,
he knew he would not sit this one out. If he didn’t join the crowd in the gaming hall, his mind filled the emptiness with
its own visions.

And those he could do without.

Besides, he only had four weeks to study the other gamblers he would face in the tournament. Some of them he already knew,
and more would arrive in St. Louis via other riverboats and such, but many of the best would be aboard the
Belle
and the
Robert E. Lee
.

“Well, if it isn’t Dyer Straights.”

Dyer turned to see Newt Crawford ambling toward him. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t let the lure of this tournament pass
you by,” Dyer said.

Newt shrugged. “What else would an old gambler like myself do anyway?”

“You could take the fortunes you’ve won and buy a little spread. Isn’t it time you retired?”

Newt chuckled. “Is this the pot calling the kettle black?”

The shore across the river was wooded and wild, and even though nothing was visible in the forest, Dyer couldn’t stop his
eyes from searching. Always searching. “I have no desire to stay in one place for that long.”

“Still chasing demons?”

Sometimes having someone know him as well as Newt Crawford did was damned annoying. Dyer forced a half-hearted grin and answered,
“Nah, just skirts.” He gestured to the gambling room with a tip of his hat. “I believe it’s time we make our entrance.”

Dyer stepped aside and allowed Newt to enter the room. Waiting for Newt to take a table first gave Dyer the perfect opportunity
to select one on the other side of the room. He wasn’t afraid of Newt, but he tried not to be a fool whenever possible. His
mind wasn’t sharp enough to night to play with the man who’d taught him the game.

Within the hour, the excitement of the room awakened the predatory juices in his blood. He had lost his two hands and won
one, but the hayseed across from him had actually beaten him in the last three. That nonsense was about to end. He twisted
his cheroot between his teeth and motioned for a whiskey, not taking his eyes off the game or his focus off the pot he was
about to win.

“Here’s your drink, Mr. Straights.”

A glass of whiskey was set before him. “Thank you, honey, I really needed—” A glance up to thank the saloon girl found Lottie
Mace looking down at him. “Shit.”

“Well,” she responded, “I wasn’t aware that was what you wanted, but I’m sure I can find you some if you’re dead set on it.”

“
What in the hell are you doing here?
”

“Mr. Straights?” one of the men in the game asked. “Are you in or out?”

Dyer bit down on his cheroot. He held a pair of aces, and even Lottie’s unexpected visit wasn’t going to blow this hand for
him. He shoved his chips to the center of the table. “I’m all in.”

A quick glance from the corner of his eye saw Lottie leaving, and he cursed himself for noticing the infernal woman when so
much money lay in the middle of the table. Normally he enjoyed this moment. The savoring of a coming victory, with the risk
of knowing that someone might still have a better hand. But instead, he was impatient for the others to make their decisions,
and the win, when it came, was tainted by his preoccupation with Miss Mace.

Dyer gathered his chips and pushed away from the table. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have some business to take care
of.”

“Surely you’re going to give us a chance to win back our money,” the farmer said.

Leaving the table after a big hand was not a very gentlemanly thing to do, but being a gentleman was the last thing on his
mind at the moment. “I assure you, I will be aboard all this week for you to win back your money, but I have something I must
take care of now.” He tipped his hat. “Gentlemen.”

He didn’t wait for their comments or permission. He headed straight across the room to where the incomparable Lottie Mace
prepared to take a round of whiskeys to another table. He removed the tray from her hands and set it on the bar.

“Sally,” he said to one of the other girls. “You’d best deliver this for Miss Mace.”

He grabbed Lottie’s wrist, dragging her across the room and outside to the deck. He didn’t give her time to speak, but that
hadn’t slowed her down any. Her sassy little mouth moved a mile a minute behind him, and when he finally turned to face her
out on the deck, she was in mid sentence.

“Why are you here?” he interrupted.

She batted her big green eyes twice and glared back at him. “This is a free country, Mr. Straights, and I have as much right
to be here as you do.” She pulled her wrist out of his grasp.

“You followed me.” He pointed his finger at her, just daring her to deny it.

“Well, of course I did.”

He blinked once in surprise. Not the answer he had expected. “Why?”

She sighed. “Because it will be much easier for you to teach me poker if I’m close by.” She didn’t add
you silly man
, but Dyer knew the rest of the statement was on the tip of her tongue.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had riled him to this extent.
“I cannot teach you to play poker, and that’s that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a woman, damn it.”

“Mr. Straights, there is no reason to curse at me. I am fully aware that I am a woman, but I simply do not understand what
that has to do with playing poker.”

“Women don’t play poker.”

“Why? Are you afraid a lady at the table would break your concentration?”

“No, I’m afraid you would talk all the men to death,
then steal their winnings before their bodies could be dragged away.”

She clamped her mouth shut and frowned at him.

The truth of the matter was, he didn’t care if women played poker or not. He could take their money as easily as anyone else’s.
If some other woman were making the request, he would probably do it and enjoy the lessons. But this one wasn’t like the whores
or women who came to the boats for an assortment of adventures. The way she talked and moved showed she was a lady, and as
much as he hated to admit it, that scared the hell out of him.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in thought, and his body reacted in a way that surprised him, and scared him even
more.

“Mr. Straights?”

Damn it, she wasn’t through. He dragged his gaze from her mouth and tried to act bored. “Yes?”

“I’ve hired on to work on this boat for the rest of this trip. That means we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other over
the next month. I’m not asking you to teach me for free. I fully intend to pay for your ser vices, and if my being at the
table concerns you, I will try to stay away from your games as much as possible.”

This lady beat anything he’d ever seen, and he’d seen quite a bit. “Tell me,” he said, leaning against the rail. “Why do you
want to learn to play poker so much?”

For the first time since he’d met her, a nervous expression flashed in her eyes. “I need the money, of course. Like everybody
else.”

“Well then, if you need money so badly, how do you intend to pay me?”

She smiled. “With a share of my winnings.”

He rubbed his chin as he pretended to contemplate
an offer he had no intentions of accepting. “You will pay me out of winnings you don’t have?”

“When you put it like that—”

He held up his hand in a gesture to stop her. “There’s no other way to put it.” Shoving off the rail, he walked past her to
the salon. “My answer still stands, Miss Mace,” he said back over his shoulder. “Find yourself another teacher.”

For the second time in as many evenings, Lottie found herself watching the broad back of Obediah Straights as he left her
standing alone on the deck. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. Maybe she should just take a few days to get to know
him better before she asked him again. In that time, she might have enough money saved up to pay for her first lesson.

She turned back toward the gambling salon to see one of the other serving girls standing in the doorway with a concerned knit
to her brow. Sally Summerfield had taken a few minutes earlier in the day to teach Lottie what to do while serving the tables.
Lottie wasn’t sure of Sally’s age—the henna-dyed hair and face paint did quite a bit to hide the years—but it was obvious
she wasn’t a newcomer to the gaming salon or its patrons.

“I didn’t mean to interfere or anything,” Sally said, stepping onto the deck. “It’s just that I saw Dyer drag you out here,
and I wanted to make sure you were all right.”