McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [89]
“Who’s in?” he asked, when he’d finished.
“I am,” Lorelei said.
“Not me,” said the cowboy.
“Me, either,” added Mr. Kahill, but he didn’t move.
Rafe sat down in the cowboy’s place, and Holt joined the circle, too.
Everybody anted up another dime.
The cards were dealt, and with each one she picked up, Lorelei sat a little straighter.
“Aces high, jacks wild,” the Captain announced.
Lorelei didn’t know what that meant, but she knew that the ten, jack, queen, king and ace, all in the same suit, were good.
“Hold,” she said, pressing them to her chest.
“You look a little too confident for my tastes,” Rafe said. “I fold.”
“She could be bluffing,” the Captain surmised, studying Lorelei with an intensity that would have been disturbing under any other circumstances. He added three dimes to the pot.
Holt followed suit, without comment, and so did Lorelei. She hoped she was right; there was over a dollar in the pot, and that was a lot of money.
Rafe had moved around behind Lorelei to study her cards.
“Don’t help me,” she said, with a so-there glance at Mr. Kahill, who only grinned and plucked himself another blade of grass to chew on.
“Raise you,” said the Captain, and added a dollar bill.
Lorelei’s eyes widened, and she held her breath.
“See it,” Holt said, and did the same.
Lorelei bit her lip, looked back at Rafe. He didn’t bat an eyelash.
Kahill watched her. They all did.
She threw in all her winnings from the first game.
“Call,” the Captain said.
Lorelei showed her cards.
Holt gave a hoot of laughter, and the Captain swore under his breath.
“Did I win?” Lorelei asked.
“Yes,” Rafe said. “You sure did.”
Lorelei scooped up her winnings, then paid Holt back what he’d advanced her at the beginning.
“I reckon that’s enough poker for now,” the Captain said, reaching for his hat.
“You would reckon that,” Holt told him. He got to his feet and offered Lorelei a hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. It was as if she’d gripped a lightning bolt.
She blushed and looked away, but she felt his grin on her face, warm as the noonday sun.
“I’d better look in on Tillie,” she said, and walked away. To her mingled dismay and pleasure, Holt matched his strides to hers.
“What’s the matter with Tillie?” he asked.
Lorelei sighed. “She’s just a little overwrought, that’s all.”
“Why?”
Lorelei stopped, faced him. “Why?” she echoed. “Because she’s been through a lot in the last few days. We all have.”
“Tillie’s tougher than most of the men I know. If she’s sick, Lorelei, you’d better tell me.”
Lorelei wished she hadn’t mentioned Tillie at all. It felt like a betrayal, just talking about her, but Holt had obviously dug in his heels. He wasn’t going to settle for less than the truth.
“She’s frightened,” Lorelei admitted quietly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. It was bad enough that she was telling Holt. “This place bothers her. She said she could see the other monks, and they were all dead.”
Holt let out his breath. “Christ,” he said.
“Is she given to—well—seeing things?”
“Yes,” Holt replied, but he was already heading for the sleeping quarters the padre had set aside for the women.
Lorelei hurried after him, suddenly anxious. “Don’t question her now, Holt—please.” It cost her plenty, adding that “please.”
“She’s upset.”
“That’s exactly why I want to see her,” he answered, without slowing down. He would have gone right in and confronted Tillie, Lorelei was sure, if he hadn’t seen Mr. Cavanagh over by the wagon, plucking the chickens they’d bought from the Davises earlier that day.
Holt changed course abruptly.
Lorelei paused, then dashed in to check on Tillie herself.
She was curled up on the middle cot, with the baby, both of them sleeping soundly. Sorrowful lay on the floor beside them, keeping a mournful watch. Seeing Lorelei, he let out a whimper.
“Shhh,” she said, and bent to pat his head.
Tillie stirred, made a soft sobbing sound in her throat.
Lorelei unfolded a blanket and covered her gently before leaving.
Sorrowful followed, his