Maisy's Gamble
by Charlene Raddon
Western Historical Romance
The Preacher is a hired gun on the run for a murder he didn't commit.
Maisy is a woman fighting for survival, her own and that of her precious son. She'll do whatever it takes to escape the man hell-bent on silencing her forever.
Thrown together by circumstance and a need they can't deny, Maisy and The Preacher must take a chance on destiny and each other. They share a common enemy, but they will discover nothing is more dangerous than gambling with the heart.
Maisy is a woman fighting for survival, her own and that of her precious son. She'll do whatever it takes to escape the man hell-bent on silencing her forever.
Thrown together by circumstance and a need they can't deny, Maisy and The Preacher must take a chance on destiny and each other. They share a common enemy, but they will discover nothing is more dangerous than gambling with the heart.
FROM SODA TO HOCK
A Discourse on The Game of Faro, as Played in The Wild West
The first card out of a faro box was called the “soda” and did not count in the betting. The last card in the deck, the “hock,” was also dead. Thus, derived the expression, “from soda to hock,” meaning from beginning to end, one of many idiomatic terms that came into the language from the frontier’s most popular game (from The Knights Of The Green Cloth by DeArment).
In preparation for the writing of my book, Maisy's Gamble, I did an in-depth study of the game of Faro (also spelled pharo). Dealing faro, you see, was how my heroine, Maisy Macoubrie, earned her living.
Between 1850 and 1910, the stereotypical frontier gambler was found in every mining camp, railhead, cattle town, and army post, plus a few places in between. Hiding his thoughts and emotions took no effort for this man, for he naturally avoided letting anyone too close; they might discover his secrets. His eyes flick over every surface, every face, while his brain calculates the possible opportunities to be had on site. His ear takes in every clink of a coin, every whisper of pastebacks being shuffled. No weapons are visible on his person. Gems flash from rings and stickpins. He appears amiable, but don’t be fooled; he can be ruthless to a fault.
Seeing a game starting up at a back table whose occupants wear fine broadcloth suits, gold watch chains and polished shoes, he saunters over, watches for a moment, then asks, “Mind if I sit in?” The other players eye him up and down, decide he’s okay and motion for him to take a seat.
The dealer, a young man in clean but ordinary clothes, isn't taken in by the new player but says nothing. Folks in the Old West tended to mind their own business.
By the time the game is over, the new fellow has a pile of money and chips in front of him and the other men wear disgruntled expressions on their faces. Our young gambler knew his fellow players were not gamblers but townsmen seeking entertainment. He never plays against professionals except when he wants to test his skills and mettle.
Maisy, in my book, Maisy's Gamble, would also recognize the young dandy as a professional and know how to deal with him. Of course, Maisy never cheated, except to save the life of a mistreated dog. And Hock, as she named the dog, was forever grateful and gave her his love and devotion, ready to lay down his life to defend her. Hock manages to get along with Maisy's other pet, a grumpy calico cat named, of course, Soda.
But there's only so much a dog can do to keep his mistress alive, particularly when she has an enemy who wants to see her dead.
That's where The Preacher comes into the story. Preacher is a professional gunman who tends to pray over his victim's graves. He and Maisy have a mutual enemy and soon join forces in the biggest gamble of their lives against a ruthless killer.
The newcomer gave her a bold once-over. He took what looked like a photograph out of his pocket, glanced at it, at Maisy, and, wearing a grisly smile, started toward her. Something behind Maisy caught his attention, and he stopped. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake staring at the stranger. The Quasimodo look-alike cursed under his breath, spun about and left.
Maisy laid one hand over her heart and pressed the other to her lips as if that would keep her from falling apart. The man had gone but might be waiting for her when she left at quitting time. He must have seen Harker's badge and figured now wasn't the time to grab her. Maisy's heart raced. She closed her eyes and reminded herself of the other times she'd survived Gold's henchmen. She would survive this time, too.
"Damn it, Maisy." Harker snatched her attention. "You look like you've seen a ghost. You know that butt-ugly fella who just left?" He glared at the closed door, his hand on his gun butt. "Bastard has mean written all over him."
She didn't answer. Couldn't. Her mouth went dry as a desert creek bed.
"Maisy?" Harker prompted.
Shaking her head, she pasted a smile on her face. "It's nothing. I'm just tired."
"You sure?"
No, but he could do nothing to help, and she didn’t want to see him put in danger because of her. Gold wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who stood in his way.
Had he been in that stagecoach? Had he hired the Quasimodo look-alike to find her? Or Preacher? If either one got his hands on her, she could do nothing to avoid being handed over to her enemy like a chunk of liver from the butcher, bought and paid for. This politician Jake told her about sounded like exactly the kind of man Gold would love to have as an employer. Had he been one of the men in the coach or one of the guards?
A sudden urge to leave town assailed her. But the stage had left. The ore train from Telluride wouldn't arrive until morning. Why had she ever thought she'd be safe in a dead-end canyon like Pandora occupied? Yes, she had friends here, but she couldn't risk endangering them.
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2LdpwBI
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2uES3FK
An avid reader, Charlene Raddon never planned to be a writer. A vivid dream changed that. She dragged out a portable typewriter and began to put her dream on paper. Originally published by Kensington Books, Charlene is now an Indie author. All her books have received high accolades, contest wins, and awards. When not writing, she designs historical book covers at her site, http://silversagebookcovers.com where she specializes in westerns.
Charlene’s website: http://charleneraddon.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/CharleneRaddon
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Charlene-Raddon/e/B000APG1P8/
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