“Bets.”
The other older fellow folded and laid his cards on the table.
Lark could feel all eyes on her. Fumbling, she pushed one chip into the growing pile.
“I’ll raise you one.” Ringwald slid two more chips into the center of the table.
Jonah did the same. Holt followed suit. Bernie dropped his cards on the table, shaking his head. So it was Lark’s turn again. She moved her chips around, twitched her nose, and pushed in two more chips. Ringwald upped it to three this time. Jonah folded. Mr. Holt pushed his chips in, keeping an eye on Larkspur. When she gave him a rather pathetic questioning look, he slightly nodded.
“I’ll take pity on the lady,” Ringwald said. “Only one more this time.”
Holt stayed in, Lark dithered, finally shook her head, and laid down her cards. Shame to waste what could have been an excellent hand had she kept that original king.
Holt called on the next round, and everyone laid their cards face up on the table. Even so, Lark had the winning hand, but since she’d folded, she got a tsk-tsk from Mr. Ringwald. Holt won.
“What a pity, miss.”
“Silly me.” She didn’t dare look at Jonah full on, but when she shot him a glance, he shook his head as if disgusted with her.
Good. Let’s play the part. She managed to look totally confused. On the next hand, she folded without betting. It would have been a good hand to truly gamble on, but she needed to convince them she hadn’t dared play on it.
Ringwald laid down a worthless hand and gave her a look of pity. Had she pushed further, she might have taken him. Was he cheating? He hadn’t used it to his advantage yet if so.
“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” she said on the next round. “It’s so different from playing at home in the parlor. I thought I knew how to play.” Don’t overdo it, she cautioned herself.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, miss. It takes time and practice. Plus a little something that, well . . . some have and some don’t.” Ringwald cut her another smile.
Was he flirting with her? Could she use that to her advantage? A frisson of danger tickled Lark’s spine. Careful . . .
Another round, and time to discard. She kept her best cards and ordered herself to keep a straight face. Perhaps a tiny frown. Appearing to study her own cards, she watched Mr. Ringwald.
While the other men kept their focus on their hands, he kept an eye on the other players. His gaze followed when they picked up their cards, when they discarded. But why?
His dark eyes caught hers. Lark flashed a coy smile and ducked her gaze back to her hand. She ran her thumb over the edge of her cards, both spades. A good hand. But was that a slight dent in the corner of the ace? Her scalp prickled. It was. A dent as if from a fingernail. She’d heard of gamblers marking cards that way. And this was Ringwald’s deck, wasn’t it?
Her mind spinning, she focused back on the table. The pile of chips in the center grew. Holt, Ringwald, and Lark were still in. Holt called and laid out his cards. The gambler did the same. Lark flinched and laid hers down. A queen and a ten.
“Does this mean I won?” She injected a note of astonishment into her voice. Holt pushed the pile of chips toward her. “Oh, good, now I can keep playing.” She stacked them carefully to the side and sent Ringwald a delighted smile.
He nodded, though his eyes studied her.
Careful, he’ll be on to you. Or know you’re on to him.
She lost the next hand and better than half her stash. “Maybe I better quit. I hate to slow you all down.”
“Ah, miss, that’s just part of the game,” Ringwald said. “Perhaps your luck will turn.”
She heaved a sigh and nodded. “I s’pose.” She glanced at Jonah, who shrugged, sticking to his part.
“All right.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I sure hope my big brother doesn’t come in here and drag me out.”
The words rang partly true. She’d lost all track of time during the game, but night had fallen outside the saloon windows. Bonnie Belle lit the lamps inside. Holt coughed and pulled out a handkerchief to blow his nose.
“Anyone for changing the game?” Ringwald shuffled the cards while he looked around the table.
“To what?” she asked.
“Oh, let’s say five-card draw?”
“But you don’t have to draw five each time, right?”
“That’s right, miss. We just have five cards in our hand instead of two.”
She won the first hand and beamed at the gambler. “Thank you. I like this game better.”
“Glad to be of service, my lady.” Ringwald dealt the next hand.
She watched the pile of chips in the center of the table grow, monitoring her hand but watching Ringwald more, her certainty increasing that he had marked the cards. She caught several more in her hand with fingernail scores, so tiny others probably wouldn’t notice.
The fourth time around the table, Bernie laid his cards down. Jonah only had two chips left, so he shook his head. “Good luck, sis.”
Holt met the raise and stared at Ringwald. Lark pretended to count her chips, then did the same.
The three of them laid their cards down. Ringwald won with a straight.
Bernie slapped the table and muttered something Lark pretended not to hear.
“What luck.” Mr. Holt’s voice rang faintly ironic.
On the next round, Lark watched Ringwald so closely that she didn’t pay much attention to her own hand and discarded one she shouldn’t have. But the gambler seemed to be able to tell when other players were bluffing, and she even thought she saw a tiny ink mark on the back of a couple of the cards. If she was right, no wonder he could tell what other players
