The Agent's Mail-Order Bride by Heidi Vanlandingham

Author:Heidi Vanlandingham [Vanlandingham, Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heidi Vanlandingham

Chapter 10

Tate stared at the cards in his hand, the faces and numbers on each blurring into one as his focus on the game waned. The saloon was the last place he wanted to be, but he couldn’t bring himself to go home. Not yet. Cat would be there, worrying and fretting over his every hiccup and movement. Four days had passed since the explosion in the mine, and he was going stir-crazy. He wasn’t one to sit around doing nothing. Not to mention he and Thad were falling further behind in their quest to gather enough evidence to bring Sutton in.

“Tate, it’s your turn.” The miner sat on his right, slouched down in the chair as if the world rested on his slumped shoulders. Tate couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he seemed nice enough, if not a bit impatient.

He refocused, not wanting to lose any more money than he had so far, which was too much. He discarded the two of clubs and drew a single card from the deck. Jack of Hearts. He placed the card in front of the Jack of Spades and the Jack of Diamonds then dropped several coins into the brass bowl in the center of the table.

The miner who’d spoken to him shook his head and laid his cards face down on the table.

“Too rich for me. Gotta bring home something or my wife’s gonna tar and feather me til Judgment Day.”

The other two men held tight and dropped their coins into the bowl then laid down their cards. The middle man had two eights. The man to his right held two fives and two sevens. Tate bit back his smile and spread his hand out, face-up, on the table to show his four of a kind—the top card, his Jack of Hearts.

“Damn, Tate, the Jack of Hearts seems to be kind of partial to you, don’t he?” The man to his right asked, a scowl on wrinkled face. The man in the middle didn’t say a word and merely scooted back his chair with a loud screech and stomped toward the bar.

The man to his left stared at Tate a moment and shrugged.

“Don’t hold it personal. He’s been antsy since the explosion. None of us like the situation here, but here’s where the ore is.” Sliding from his chair without much of a sound, he touched the brim of his hat and walked to the bar and sat beside his friend, who was nursing a glass of beer.

“Awww, don’t worry about those two none,” the first miner said. “Sore losers, always have been. In case you don’t remember, my name’s Bob Flanders. You’re probably looking for the man who caused the explosion…well, those two weren’t there, and I was at home.” Bob stood, his fingers working the frayed edge of his hat brim.

“The wife was makin’ me a meat pie when I left that morning, and it was all I could think about, so I went home to get me some.

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