The Gambler (4 page)

Picking up what he knew would fit into the
stove, he bundled it and started back to the cabin. That’s when he
noticed it. Snow. It pelted his face like little ice daggers and he
stopped, looked up, and laughed. “Damn it all to hell.” The guilt
burned like acid in his gut and he swallowed to try and ease the
sensation before continuing back to the cabin.

Once inside, he shoved the wood into the
stove, straightened, dusted off his hands and clothes and turned to
the table. Emmaline was still there, her plate holding nothing but
one single chicken bone. A small leg bone to be exact. The rest of
the food sitting untouched. “You not hungry?”

She glanced up at him and shrugged one
shoulder.

Eyeing the food, Tristan crossed the space,
piled most of what was there onto her plate and took what was left.
“There’s no way I can eat all that after what I had for lunch so
what you can’t eat, you can save for later.”

Her hand shook as she reached for another
piece of the chicken and Tristan had to look away. If he had to
watch someone as starved as her eat the only meal she’d had in lord
knows how long, he’d have to hit something and there wasn’t
anything around to hit except the cabin wall and as rickety as the
place was, he didn’t know if it would stand the abuse.

He walked around the cabin, his plate in
hand, and inspected the walls, feeling the draft seep through the
cracks and tried not to shiver. The place was cold and musty and
wasn’t much bigger than the chicken coops back on his family’s
ranch.

Turning to look at Emmaline, he saw her
eating, tucking into the food and licking the juice and chicken
grease from her fingers. He smiled. “It’s good?”

She turned her head to him, her cheeks puffed
out with a mouthful and nodded.

He let her eat in peace, nibbled on his own
and tried to think of a way to help her. He knew he couldn’t in all
good conscience leave for home and forget she was here. In a way,
with him winning the land, he won the responsibility of her too.
The money he’d won in the game would be enough to see her through
the winter but what happened when the money ran out? And with her
stepfather gone, who would protect her from men like Jensen
Cooper?

When he’d eaten all he could stand, he sat
his plate down on the table. Emmaline was still eating and he
wondered if she’d make herself sick eating so much. She glanced at
him again before pushing her plate away.

“Get full?” he asked.

“More than full.” She pushed away from the
table and walked to the stove and the bucket of water she had
sitting on top of it. She washed her hands and face, drying them on
a bit of cloth that looked like an old flour sack. When she turned
back to him, he saw the gratitude shining in her eyes. Her lips
tightened into a thin line before she looked away from him. “As
much as it kills me to say it, thank you.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome, Emmaline.”

Her gaze snapped back to him, startled. “How
did you know my name?”

“Jensen Cooper told me.”

The color drained from her face before he saw
her throat move as she swallowed. “What else he tell you about
me?”

Tristan stared at her and the look on her
face told him Jensen Cooper had stories to tell about this girl and
he probably wouldn’t like what they were. She started to blush, her
cheeks turning bright pink before she turned and grabbed one of the
blankets from the bed, wrapping herself up in it. “Nothing,” he
said, answering her question. “Just asked what you’d do now that I
owned the property.”

She didn’t comment, choosing to clear away
the mess on the table instead. When she walked out to toss the
scraps, Tristan leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms
over his chest.

The question of what to do with her was still
fresh in his mind. He couldn’t leave her. The way she’d just
devoured that cold chicken and day old potatoes told him she didn’t
eat on a regular basis and if she lost anymore weight, she’d be
blown over by the next strong wind.

His gaze landed on the articles of clothing
hanging from pegs on the wall. Her dresses were rags, the blankets
on the bed little more than thin, useless drying cloths and like it
or not, she was his responsibility. His conscience wouldn’t let him
see her as anything else.

But what did he do with her? She needed a
husband but would anyone in town be willing to marry her? Looking
at the cabin he doubted it. The land was worth more than anything
sitting on it but would that be enough to entice someone to marry
her? She wasn't ugly but if he had to choose, she wouldn't have
been his first choice. She was too thin, had nothing to offer in
the way of assets and from what he'd seen, she was downright ornery
when she wanted to be. That shotgun that met him when he first
arrived told him that.

No, she probably wouldn't be anyone else's
first choice for marriage either. It's probably why she wasn't
already married.

So, what did he do with her? A small voice in
the back of his mind told him to put her somewhere he knew she’d be
safe. A place where a woman was a woman, regardless of what they
looked like or had to offer in marriage and there wasn’t but one
place he knew of that would guarantee him of that.

When she stepped back inside, closing the
door behind her and shook off the snow from her hair, he
straightened and made up his mind. He’d take her home with him, put
her up in the hotel in Willow Creek until one of the men in town
came calling for her. It wouldn't take long either. The woman to
men ratio in Willow Creek was severely lopsided. There were a
number of men there who would take her. Well, there had been when
he left. He didn't think it would be much different now. And if no
one did want her, then the townsfolk would see to her if she ever
got in trouble, of that he had little doubt.

* * * *

“Pack what belongings you have. I’ll be
taking you home with me come first light.”

Emmaline’s eyes widened and she turned to
look at Tristan. He was standing near the stove, a pleased look on
his face. “Excuse me?”

“I said pack your belongings.”

Since the moment she’d stepped back inside
the cabin earlier that day, she’d been sick with fear. Fear of what
she’d do if he didn’t give the land deed back. Fear of how she’d
survive with no roof over her head if he tossed her out on her
rear.

She knew she couldn’t sit by idly and let him
dictate her life so she’d spent the rest of the day cleaning up,
washing her hair and her best dress with the intentions of walking
to town and finding him, seducing him into at least letting her
keep the land but realized as her hair was drying that she didn’t
even know if he was still in town. Besides, it was a five-mile
walk, which was quite a distance to go to take a gamble on finding
him.

Worried, she’d nearly chewed her fingernails
off wondering what to do and then… there he was. Standing at her
door looking as fancy and rich as he had earlier and carrying a bag
of food big enough to feed her for a month.

And now he was offering to take her away, to
take her home with him like some fairy tale prince. She turned her
back to him so he couldn’t see the shock register on her face.
“You’re not staying in Idaho?”

“No. Why would I?”

Emmaline bit her lip, worrying it with her
teeth. What did she do now? She couldn’t leave. This was her home.
Her gold mine was here. Her future. But what would she do if he
left?

Her stepfather never had much money but he
did come home once a month and bring her a few provisions. With him
now gone, she had no one and no way to get food. No way except
through Jensen Cooper. Her stomach rolled just thinking about him.
She’d starve first before she stooped that low again.

She turned and glanced at him out of the
corner of her eye. She didn’t know much about Tristan Avery but she
knew he had money. Enough to buy the tools she needed. Enough to
fill her cupboard. She just needed to get the deed back from him
and fill her pockets with some of the money he had.

But he wasn’t staying. He was leaving and
that left her with very few options. His command for her to pack
rattled inside her head. He wanted her to come along with him and
she knew, she’d have no choice but to follow.

At least until she could get her hands on
that deed and his money.

Turning back to face him, she tilted her head
to one side. “Where’s home?”

“Willow Creek, Montana.”

Montana? What in the world would she do in
Montana? “And why would I want to go there?” Emmaline kept her
facial expression neutral while her mind worked furiously trying to
figure out how she’d make it all the way back home alone.

She stared at him, her gaze devouring his
form from head to toe. Tristan Avery was handsome, rich and
probably owned a large house with hired house servants cooking and
cleaning for him. For a fleeting moment, a small voice in the back
of her head whispered to her seductively, begged her to pack her
bag and see if he’d leave tonight instead of tomorrow and spend the
rest of her days with her feet propped up while ordering people
around. The rational side of her brain balked, dug its heels into
the floor and refused to budge.

What did she do? She inhaled a deep breath,
her thoughts playing tug of war with her desires and she was nearly
exhausted by the time she realized Tristan was talking to her. She
blinked and focused her eyes on his face.

“You can’t possibly want to stay here.”

“Why not?”

He laughed and looked around the room. “I’ve
seen outhouses in better condition than this cabin.”

Emmaline scowled at him. “I’m sure you
have.”

“I didn’t mean anything by that.” He ran his
fingers through his hair and grinned at her, that dimple in his
cheek showing itself again. “Look, I can’t leave you here and I
have to get out of this territory, which means you have to go with
me. Circumstances as they are, I’m responsible for you.”

He was responsible for her? She didn’t notice
it at first but the longer she looked at him, the clearer things
became. It was in his eyes, the pity and remorse shining back at
her evident once she looked hard enough. He felt guilty. For
killing Harold or stealing her land? Did it matter? Either way, she
had him right where she needed him. Sure, traveling to Montana
would be an inconvenience but he obviously wasn’t going to just
hand over the deed and his money.

Her options were few and she listed them all
in her head, none of them appealing. She had no choice. Not really.
Her only option was to go, to play along and let him think he was
her protective benefactor and wait until the right moment to steal
the deed back.

She looked around the room. There wasn’t much
there even worth taking but she bent down and pulled the old carpet
bag out from under her bed, filling it with what little she had.
She thought of her gold tucked into a small crevice in the mine and
wondered if she had enough time to go fetch it. She glanced over
her shoulder at Tristan. How would she collect it without him
knowing? She couldn’t. She'd have to leave it until she came
back.

The bag felt empty when she turned to face
him but figured he’d want to travel light. “I don’t have much,” she
said, shrugging one shoulder. “Nothing worth taking with me, that
is.”

He smiled at her and she realized, as she
looked at him in that filtered light from the candle, that in
another life, she would have probably fancied him. He was handsome,
so sure of himself, with a smile bright enough to charm the
bloomers off girls far and wide. Hers too apparently as her initial
plan had been to seduce him.

As they stood the length of the cabin apart
and stared at one another, Emmaline wondered if he would want
compensation for his trouble. She’d yet to meet a man who didn’t.
Hell, even that old codger Jensen Cooper wanted payment for those
grubby vegetables she was taking from his garden and his price was
always too high when he caught her stealing from him. The memory
caused the food she’d eaten to sour on her stomach and she tore her
gaze from Tristan and went back to riffling through her bag.

She heard him move about the room and
wondered if him taking care of her was done out of pity or if he
wanted something else. She'd yet to meet a man who didn't want some
sort of payment for helping her and she doubted he would be any
different. His fancy clothes may have separated him from most of
the men she knew but he was still a man. They didn't do anything
without some sort of reimbursement and sex was usually their
preferred form of payment where she was concerned.

Her mind wandered. She’d done things she’d
never told another living soul about, just to see she didn’t
starve, and if Tristan wanted payment for taking her out of her
current hell, and for giving her that deed back, she’d pay him with
the only thing she had. She’d do it with a smile on her face and a
song in her heart every night if she had to. Besides, seducing him
had been her original plan anyway. She didn’t need to coerce him
into giving the deed back. She only had to make him think she was
grateful. To get him to let his guard down and he’d do what she
wanted.