Page 6 of The Runaway Heiress (The Gilded West)

Chapter Six

A politician or corporate figure had graced their table almost every night since Sophie had been informed of her wedding.

She was forced to play hostess while Jean bribed his way to lower taxes or cheaper timber.

Everything was a game with him as he looked for ways to turn his copper into gold.

She had no choice but to don the facade she had become so adept at wearing and be a pretty fixture at the table.

It was a facade that had taken her many years and many punishments to cultivate.

She’d been ten when her parents had died in the mine explosion.

It had been a Sunday and Jean had invited them to go see the progress being made.

No one was supposed to be working. But the dynamite had exploded anyway, leaving Jean unscathed.

Three years passed before it even occurred to her that he might have had a hand in the accident.

She only thought it then because she’d overheard him arguing with Alexandre, who was fifteen by then and too hotheaded to keep his opinions to himself.

The memory of how badly her brother had been beaten still caused her to shudder.

She’d begged him to leave and so he had, with a promise to come back for her.

But ever since then she’d had trouble hiding her own suspicions and continuing to be the biddable niece.

Her resentment was clear in every word, every action, and it hadn’t taken long for Jean to grow weary of it.

She’d felt the wrath of his cane across her legs and back more times than she cared to remember.

Finally, she’d learned to control those rebellious impulses.

As long as she played the role he wanted, nothing bad happened.

Occasionally she’d still push too far and be struck for it or locked in her room, but nothing like before.

It was livable. But with Anton she’d have to learn all over again.

And what would be demanded of her would be so much more than she could give.

So while Jean had schemed over those dinners, Sophie had quietly plotted her escape.

She refused to live like this any longer.

He had left on a trip to visit a mine this morning, and the perfect opportunity had presented itself.

Escape was the only way to save herself.

She planned to run to her brother in Chicago, but first she needed funds.

This was how Sophie found herself awkwardly arched over a green felt-topped billiard table in the back of Victoria House attempting to sink the last of her balls into the corner pocket.

The gaming hell was the only place that might be safe enough for what she had planned.

The saloons in town were known to be rough.

Victoria House was run by a woman, Glory Winters, and it was rumored that she welcomed women in her establishment.

She even provided protection in the form of doormen who kept a watchful eye over the crowd.

It was the first place Sophie thought to go.

A bead of nervous sweat rolled down her back causing an itch between her shoulder blades that was destined to go unattended to.

For the first time that night her scheme seemed like a bad idea.

The mood of the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle had gone from revelry after the first game she had won to something darker.

For the life of her, Sophie did not understand exactly what had precipitated the change. But her fingers twitched around her cue stick in awareness, and she straightened, pretending to assess the shot from a different angle. The hum of conversation resumed somewhat.

The crowd had moved too close, forcing her to brush against them on her way around the table to take the shot from the other side.

The wall on that side was much too close to afford many unhampered shots but she sought the sanctuary it offered more than anything else.

Just on her way around the last corner, a large hand shot out from the crush and fitted itself to her hip.

She was too shocked to protest and then a low voice behind her said, “Throw the shot.”

Gray! It was unmistakably his voice. He hadn’t spoken to her directly since the night of their kiss, but she recognized it.

She froze. Then she frowned because it meant they—her uncle’s gunslingers—knew she was here and if they did, so would her uncle.

And she had planned her escape so carefully.

Despair held a death grip on her lungs, but she refused to give into it.

She might have been found but she hadn’t been captured yet.

Her gaze flicked to the two piles of cash resting under a heavy marker on the table’s bank at the other end.

Her contribution had been desperately hidden away one dollar at a time over the years.

It represented freedom and it was hers if she sank the shot.

She moved to continue, ignoring Gray, but his hand moved to her wrist in a grip that refused to be ignored. “We’ll never make it out of here if you don’t.”

That made her look over her shoulder at him.

Gray wasn’t looking at her but at the other end of the table.

He merely nodded toward to the group situated behind the cash.

Jeb, the man she was competing against, stood there in deep discussion with a few rather unfriendly looking characters.

Those men had not been there earlier. Not when she’d beaten Jeb in the first game ten minutes ago and certainly not when he had so graciously proposed a double or nothing scenario.

Jeb looked back at her, a deep scowl darkening his features, and her heart sank. He was angry. And then the group around him looked at her and she actually blanched. Something menacing gleamed deep in their eyes.

“The lady forfeits.” Gray’s voice carried loud and strong across the table and over the din of the crowd.

Sophie immediately took exception to his interference and opened her mouth to say so but then closed it, mentally evaluating the possible outcomes. If she sank the shot, would she be allowed to walk away unscathed? The looks the men gave her suggested not.

“Does she know that?” Jeb laughed, a hollow sound without mirth. He pushed his greasy hair back from a brow that was prematurely creased from years in the sun. She had pegged him for a ranch hand, but outlaws also spent a lot of time outdoors.

Gray came around her then and she found herself pushed behind his shoulder.

The movement was so abrupt that the veil of her hat came tumbling down over her face.

She had borrowed the whole ensemble from Martine as a means of escaping from the dress shop undetected.

She pushed up the stiff lace so she could see.

“Doesn’t matter. She forfeits,” Gray said.

Sophie was grudgingly beginning to accept that Gray’s assistance was needed to get her out of the situation, but hearing herself relegated to an insignificant detail was more than she could take.

“Now—” She started to interject but his hand pressed lightly against her stomach and halted anything she might have said.

“Just who are you?” Jeb persisted.

Gray pushed the drape of his coat back. The men as a group looked down towards his hip where he undoubtedly kept his gun holstered.

Guns weren’t allowed in the establishment, another reason she had chosen it.

How had he gotten it inside? She glanced toward the room’s entrance to see if the doorman had noticed, but everyone outside of their bubble seemed oblivious to what was happening.

One of the men muttered something to the others. It was too low for her to hear but created a rumble in the folks gathered round. Surely they must have noticed he was something of a professional.

“You her husband?” Jeb asked. It was a peace offering and when she heard it Sophie grasped Gray’s forearm where it still rested against her.

Gray’s head lowered slightly in a move that could have been considered affirmation if the receiver was so inclined.

“Well, I accept her forfeit,” the man said. “But on the condition that you tan her arse when you get her home. A lady,” he snickered when he said the word as if that did not describe her in the least, “should know to mind her menfolk.”

Sophie cringed with anger. Was it her fault he was a sore loser? Was it her fault he had assumed she didn’t know how to play? Well, maybe she had played up that part a bit.

Without responding to the man, Gray grabbed her elbow and began to steer them away from the table.

Sophie’s gaze fell on the cash and she realized it was more than she could walk away from.

“Wait! I want my money back.” She could accept forfeiting her winnings, but she should at least walk away with the amount she had brought to the table.

“Sophie!” Gray breathed angrily near her ear, while staying focused on the men and the potential danger.

Jeb was already busy thumbing through the bills, but he heard her. “Get that bitch out of here.”

She didn’t see Gray move but the next sound she heard was the resonant gasp of the crowd as they stared at him, his gun poised to be released from its holster.

“Just the lady’s portion.” Gray offered reasonably. “Else…” He let the word hang in the air, allowing the men to decide if the amount was worth the bullet at least one of them would sport otherwise.

Jeb seriously seemed to consider the alternative. After all, he wasn’t holding a gun. Chances were good he would avoid a bullet in the first round. But then he pulled out some bills and slid them across the table.

Gray smoothly leaned over and collected them, pushing them into his pocket and backing away at the same time.

“Gray?” An authoritative voice, rich and masculine, cut through the thick silence of the room. A large, well-dressed man walked into the room as if he’d just been summoned, his attention focused on what was happening.

“Able.” Gray greeted him without looking away from Jeb and his friends. “We’re on our way out.”

Able’s discerning glare shifted to Jeb and his friends. “I’ll make sure they don’t follow you.”

“I appreciate your help,” Gray said and slid his gun back into its holster.

Sophie turned and led the way through the crowd that politely parted for them, not daring to stop until they had reached the street. Even then, Gray held onto her arm until they were well away from the establishment.

“Let me go. You don’t have to pull me along like a child.” She snapped and jerked her arm away. She hadn’t decided if she should be more grateful to him or angry for his interference. Both were valid.

“Put down your veil.”

She complied but it hardly seemed necessary given the fact that the people she had hoped to avoid, Gray and his cohorts, had found her.

“Beaudin.” He supplied in answer to her unvoiced question. “He has men watching.”

Sophie gasped and looked around. The street was fairly crowded with evening pedestrians but no one seemed to be following them. The very idea that Anton felt he had the right to monitor her movements made her furious.

“Do you think anyone recognized me?” It seemed far-fetched considering not many people knew her since her uncle kept her isolated. The few people she knew from his business dealings and Society events hadn’t been at the gaming hall. “How did you know that man? Able?”

“I don’t think anyone recognized you. I worked there for a time, that’s how he knew me and why they didn’t check me for a gun when I walked in.”

Well, that answered her next question.

He kept looking around as if expecting a threat to pop out of the shadows. In fact, he was walking so fast she had to almost run to keep up.

No one seemed to notice them, though, or if they thought it odd that a man dressed in buckskin trousers and duster would be escorting a finely dressed woman like her in this part of town, they kept it to themselves.

She had borrowed a stiff and somber black gown from Martine, but the modiste didn’t do subtle well.

The skirt was striped with thin panels of dark gray satin and accompanied by a smart, hip-length jacket that accentuated the narrow waist of its wearer.

It was a moment more before she calmed down enough to realize Gray wasn’t leading her back to the dress shop or even home.

They were going farther into the rougher part of town, marked by the uneven boardwalk beneath her feet and then the complete lack of one at all.

The buildings here were all of wood and badly weathered.

“Where are we going?” There was only a faint tremor to her voice, but she halted abruptly.

It took a couple of steps for Gray to realize she had stopped, and when he did, he was smiling as he walked back to her. A wicked smile that caused a shiver of foreboding to travel up her spine. “Too late for that. You should’ve thought of the consequences before running away.”

With that, he grabbed her arm in a firm grip and pulled her around a corner where he urged her up a rickety flight of stairs affixed to the side of a mercantile store. At the top he stopped to unlock the single door before pushing her into the dark room beyond.