Western Ways
To Tame A Gambler

Grace pulled the brim of her felt hat lower over her eyes and surreptitiously shoved a strand of hair beneath it while she sat at a table with several men. Guessing at the price she’d pay if anyone guessed she was Grace Morgan and not Gray Morrison, she was careful of her appearance.

Even before entering the hall, excitement filled her at the thought of sitting down at the table and holding the cards again, hopefully the right cards.

What was it about gambling that always made her feel that way? Was it merely the enjoyment of playing the games themselves, or was it the fact she felt powerful when she won? Pragmatic always, she knew the answer was a combination of several reasons. Mostly she enjoyed the feeling of besting a man at a man’s game. After years of physical abuse at the hand of her drunken father, she’d wanted to beat men, in some fashion, at their own games. The only thing more satisfying would be revealing her womanhood to them. She shuddered at the thought of their reaction!

As she stared down at her cards, her heart beat at a runaway pace. Luck had found her this first night. Never had she played so well or won so much money. She’d made enough now to send for her family. Smirking at the men circling the table, she laid down her last winning hand, rising from her chair simultaneously. “It appears I’ve been lucky again, gentlemen.” She reached forward and swept her winnings toward her.

A hand clamped over her cowhide gloved one. The gloves were a necessity for she knew one look at her hands and the men would realize she was a woman.

“Wait a damned minute, mister,” growled the black-bearded man directly across from her.

Grace’s gaze met Gus Parker’s scowl.

“You cheated. Everyone at this table saw you.” With a dark, menacing look, he added, “Ain’t that right, boys?”

Non-verbal consensus came in the form of grunts from a few. Others remained silent. One rose and left. Grace felt all eyes on her and her cheeks turned hot in a combination of anger and humiliation. Though she didn’t want to feel it, fear rose in her. No one had ever accused her of cheating, and now she wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation.

Fortunately, she recalled seeing this same thing happen to a man in a saloon in Nevada. She adopted his casual manner. Shrugging her shoulders, she yanked her hand out from beneath Parker’s. “Me? Cheat? Look to yourself, man, for you’re an awful poker player.”
Heart hammering in her chest, she dared to meet the man’s eyes. Fury filled his face and spoke volumes. Not for the first time did she wish she’d learned to shoot a gun. She didn’t even own one. She’d noticed how the men in town openly wore their guns. As a matter of fact, the laws clearly stated a man had a right to bear arms as long as the weapons were in clear view.

An elegantly dressed bald-headed brute of a man appeared at her elbow. Grace saw he was one of the Nugget’s owners. “What’s the problem?”

“He cheated me out of five thousand, Royce. Others here can back me up.”

Royce glanced at each man’s face. “That true, boys? The little gentleman here cheat?”

Grace cringed at the man’s description of her. The piano player had stopped playing, drinks were no longer being poured. Utter silence fell with a thud on the hall. Grace felt all eyes on her.

After a long, tense moment, Royce said, “Looks like you might be in the minority, Parker. Give the man his money and get the hell out of here.”

“Damn it, Royce!” Parker bellowed.

He went silent when the saloon owner pinned him with a hard look.
The other men rose from the table and stepped away. Royce folded his arms and nodded at her. “Pick up your winnings and get out, mister. Time to call it a night.”

Nodding in agreement, Grace pocketed her earnings, then turned on her heel and headed for the door. Just when she reached the swinging doors, a hard hand grabbed her elbow and whirled her around. She gasped.

Royce gave her the once-over. Finally, he leaned over and whispered, “Mister Morrison? I’m advising you now, lady, stay away from The Golden Nugget—if you know what’s good for you.”
Grace’s eyes widened when he said softly, “Next time, be sure the glue’s dry beneath the whiskers.”

She gave him a brisk nod before exiting the gambling hall. Her entire body shook. Dear God, she’d been caught. Yet she decided the man named Royce wouldn’t reveal her identity so long as she didn’t return.

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