Gambling on an Angel

Gambling on an Angel

By

Paty Jager

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

GAMBLING ON AN ANGEL

COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Patricia Jager

Second Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Name of Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. 

Contact Information: info@windtreepress.com

Cover Art by Christy Keerins 

Windtree Press 

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Publishing History

First Print Edition 2006

Digital Edition 2006 

Published in the United States of America

One

Lower Cascades dock

1873 Columbia River, Oregon

A large, ruffian snaked his arm out from behind a pile of freight, grabbing a woman around the waist. A wide-eyed girl, with the woman, clutched a tattered carpetbag as the man’s accomplice stepped into the melee.

The scene on the loading dock below didn’t set well with Bas Slocum. He wasn’t a do-gooder, but damn, he couldn’t let this pass without doing something.

He glanced at his high-priced shipment of glasses and whiskey being unloaded and hauled around the first portage on his two-day trip up the Columbia River.

Boys, handle those boxes like your first born is sleeping inside, he shouted at the laborers before heading at a brisk trot down the wood planking.

As Bas moved between the piles of freight on the dock, he saw the smaller man snatch the girl around the waist. Bas quickened his steps, his heart pounding. Nothing ate at him more than men taking advantage of helpless women.

The dock was empty. Passengers from the Carrie Ladd were farther up the embankment boarding the small train of coaches and flat freight cars. The short trek around the rough water to a sternwheeler farther up the river was all a part of traveling the Columbia.

Damn, gal, all I want is a little kiss. The man growled as the woman’s small fists beat uselessly on his chest. Laughing, he dipped his head.

Turn your liquor drenched breath on someone else, she said, pushing his face away with the heel of her hand.

Bas stretched his long legs as far and fast as they would go.

The sun beat down and no air movement between the piles of goods was stifling. He wiped a sleeve across his forehead with one arm while his other hand rested on the pistol strapped to his right hip.

The large man held the woman’s petite face with one hand while the other arm anchored her slender middle. The girl swung her head back and forth as she tried to stomp on the toes of the skinny man retaining her.

Blast, you little bugger, the man cursed when the girl’s heel met its target. He raised a hand to hit her.

No! The woman’s voice pierced the air as Bas lunged for the man and the girl. He grasped the raised hand, wrenching it behind the skinny man’s back and pointed his gun at the larger man.

Let the lady go. Bas kept his gaze and his gun pointed at the larger man clutching the woman. The raspy, pitiful sounds of the girl, now clinging to the woman’s waist, set Bas’s anger up a notch. What did these men think to gain by harming these females? You could easily see they had nothing of value.

Let the lady go and you walk away. Bas kept the gun trained on the man detaining the woman.

We’re just having a little fun. The man smiled, showing tobacco-stained teeth.

She doesn’t appear to be having fun. Bas allowed his gaze to drift to the woman’s face. He cleared his throat as a wave of gut wrenching recognition sliced through him. He’d never met her before, but the intelligence and disillusion staring back at him from translucent green eyes was something he recognized. The angry eyes of the slight woman reflected his feelings on life.

He clicked the hammer back on the pistol.

She ain’t worth getting shot over. The larger man raised his hands and stepped away from the woman and girl.

Bas shoved the skinny man in his grasp forward.

The woman hugged the girl and stepped beside Bas. You should be ashamed of yourselves, she admonished, shaking a finger at the two men. See the kind of trouble drinking the Devil’s brew can get you into.

The prim set of her chin and the pure white ribbon that dangled from a button on her dress made Bas groan. A Sister of the Temperance Movement.

He turned his attention back to the men. How could someone so pretty be connected with something he called an enemy? He didn’t want to think about what she would have to say should she discover he owned a saloon.

I don’t want to see either of you near these women for the rest of the trip. No tellin’ if I’ll be able to control my trigger finger. He pointed the gun just above their heads and let loose two bullets over the water. The men scrambled away

as the shots echoed along the riverbank. Deck hands and the passengers boarding the train turned to stare.

Bas shrugged his shoulders and slipped the gun back in the holster slung low on his hip. He turned his attention to the woman on the dock, hugging the girl to her bosom. She stared at him with distrust and a smattering of curiosity.

Wisps of dark brown hair had come loose from the severely knotted bun on the back of her head. The tendrils clung to her perspiration-sheened face. Heightened color on her cheeks enhanced her bronze complexion. His gaze moved lower enjoying the sights. The white temperance ribbon contrasted with the dark dress she wore - reminding him of her dedication to her cause.

He cursed inwardly and dropped his gaze to the girl. She had the same coloring, but her dark, curly hair was unruly. Soft blue eyes regarded him innocently.

Bas smiled. She appeared to be the one he could win over. Bas Slocum, he said, holding out his hand.

She smiled timidly and stepped toward him.

Lottie, no, the woman hissed. Lottie peered at the woman, then back at Bas.

He smiled. Tell your ma I’m just introducing myself, so if you have any more trouble on this trip you can ask for me.

The girl put a hand over her mouth and her shoulders shook. He deemed she was giggling, though he heard no sound.

I’m not her mother, I’m her sister. The woman stepped forward, gathering the youngster to her. Arletha Harrison. This is my sister, Carlotta.

Her hand caressed the girl’s hair as she stared at him. Miss Harrison was a contradiction. Tenderness and love reflected in the gentle way she handled her sister, but the fire in her eyes suggested a toughness that belied her fragile appearance. He wondered what hard times had brought the two to travel alone. And why she was so rude when he had just saved her from who knew what. But then anyone wearing a temperance ribbon would have a chip on her shoulder.

Thank you for coming to our aid. We must be going. She turned to leave, but Bas wasn’t through.

The way Miss Harrison mothered the girl reminded him of a young woman, barely out of adolescents, who befriended him as a child. The young woman became the mother his own flesh and blood didn’t care to be. The pair standing in front of him brought out his protective nature, something that had gotten him into trouble more than once.

It isn’t safe for you to travel unescorted. He reached down to grasp their satchel. All sorts of low-life were headed to Wallula to work on Baker’s railroad. Traveling up and down the Columbia alone wasn’t a good idea for two young females.

Miss Harrison made an attempt to grab the bag from his hand, but he held it away. She pushed the stray strands of hair so brown they were almost black, behind her ear. We’ve made it this far, I’m sure we can remain unscathed until we reach Wallula.

You didn’t look like you were doing a very good job when I saw you. Bas felt lower than a two-legged dog when her face paled.

I’m sure we would have been fine. Her chin came up, and he had to chuckle at her boldness.

I beg to differ with you-

We’re going to miss the train, Miss Harrison said, plucking the satchel from his grasp.

Bas glanced at the brightly colored coaches. Being the first sternwheeler to travel up the Columbia River since the winter ice melted, the ship was full to its limits. The coaches that conveyed passengers around the roughest water on the river were overflowing. We better get going or we’ll end up on the freight car.

Miss Harrison grimaced. That’s where we must ride, but you may hurry along to get a seat in the coach.

Why do you have to ride on the freight? He pried her hand from the handle of the satchel and headed up the hill to the train. She grabbed her sister with one hand and held up her skirt with the other as they hurried alongside him. The breeze he encountered once they were out of the freight delivered not only a cool respite, but sent her subtle fresh fragrance dancing around him as well.

We didn’t have the full funds to pay for the trip. I’m cleaning the cabins as part of our passage. She studied him skeptically. You are, in fact, consorting with the help.

And?

From your appearance, you don’t usually pay attention to the likes of me. Her chin came up another notch as if to say, she wouldn’t always be working for her passage. He liked her gumption. Having worked his way up through the ranks on a sternwheeler until he won a saloon in a card game, he knew what it was like to have to work for passage and a meal.

How do you know ‘the likes of me’? he asked, staring into her unflinching eyes.

You have a fancy suit and shiny vest, expensive hat and pearl-handled pistol. She bit the side of her rosy lower lip. You are an important person somewhere. Those whom you deal with would most likely think less of you for associating with us.

Bas smiled wryly as they stopped beside the freight car. Well, you're half right about me, but way off on the rest. He set her satchel on the side of the freight car and picked up Lottie, who had yet to say a word.

Placing her on the top of a box marked Hardware he chucked her under the chin. You’re one quiet young lady.

The child smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes.

Miss Harrison hitched up her skirt to climb onto the car. Thinking only of proprieties and keeping her skirt down so the men watching wouldn’t bother her, Bas put his hands on her sides to lift her up. She turned her head. Translucent green eyes stared into his with clarity and a hint of speculation. Her body was warm and firm in his hands, her ribs easily discernable. The woman hadn’t been eating properly. The girl appeared healthy. He didn’t doubt the older sister went without while the younger one feasted.

Either put me up or take leave of my person, Miss Harrison said, her cheeks taking on a deeper hue.

Bas smiled apologetically and set her up beside her sister.

Are you sure you’ll be fine up here? He scanned the men riding on the freight.

The dockhands added his last box to the pile of freight on the car. He glanced back at the two sisters, then at the crowded passenger car.

I might as well ride back here, he said, swinging up onto the car and taking a box next to Lottie.

The girl yawned and smiled at him.

Had to get up early to catch the boat, didn’t you? Bas said, trying to start up a conversation with the girl.

She nodded her head and leaned against her sister. Her eyelids closed.

He studied Miss Harrison. The affection in her eyes as she smoothed the curly hair expressed the bond between the pair. Bas wondered for the first time in a long while what it would be like to have family. He pushed the thoughts away. No one had cared for him since he was big enough to walk and talk. All he needed was himself.

Why are you headed to Wallula? he asked, as the train lurched forward, tipping them all backward.

We’re meeting someone. Miss Harrison scanned the hills and rock bluffs as the train chugged away from the river and over a rise.

It’s a rough town. There’s someone found dead in the streets at least once a week. Vigilantes are stringing up people right and left. Whether they’re guilty or not.

The color drained from her face, but her lips were set in a straight unmoving line, and her eyes held a defiance he didn’t want to mess with. I’m not trying to scare you. But you need to be prepared, he added, feeling low for having caused her fear.

The rocking movement of the train lulled Lottie to sleep. She awkwardly slept with her head in her sister’s lap. Bas watched Arletha and continued, The town is full of cowboys, Indians, and any out-of-work male who can swing a pick and lift a rail. Baker’s ‘Rawhide Railroad’ is growing every day. The workers causing that growth are liquored up at night, making the streets unsafe for women.

We’ll be living with our brother. He’ll protect us. Her curt comment didn’t hide the uncertainty in her voice.

Does he own a business? I know most of the businessmen in Wallula.

He was unnerved by the hope shining in her eyes. Bas rubbed a hand across his face as conflicting feelings bubbled inside his twisting gut. Emotions he’d not felt before—because he’d never let anyone close enough to expect his assistance.

My brother works on the railroad. Miss Harrison twisted her hands in her lap. At least the letter my mother received several months ago said he was headed this way to work on the railroad. Her eyelids lowered, hiding her thoughts behind long, dark lashes.

What’s his name?

Robert Harrison.

Bas recollected the railroad workers who frequented the saloon. He didn’t remember anyone by that name. He also didn’t know of anyone by that name owning property. I don’t believe I’ve heard of him.

Oh. The disappointment in her voice aroused his protective instincts. He would help her find her brother. It didn’t appear she had anyone else to protect her until the brother was found.

Bas glanced around. All the men on the freight car watched her like they’d never seen a woman before. He had to admit she was a sight. Her full, rose-colored lips, pointed chin and oval face were perfect. Slender hips, delicate hands and feet, and well-formed breasts, gave a man to wonder what she would feel like in his arms.

He stopped his thoughts. A woman wasn’t in his future. He didn’t plan on being tied to one person. He hadn’t needed anyone the past twenty-six years and didn’t plan to need anyone the rest of his life.

The train chugged up to the small platform, aiding the passengers to disembark. Bas climbed down from the freight car, keeping an eye on his boxes.

Hey! Take it easy, there’s breakables in there, he told the men moving the freight to the next sternwheeler. He’d paid a pretty price for the crystal he’d bought with the intention of starting a grand hotel and saloon in Wallula.

The bartenders in his establishment would be handpicked as well as the liquor and glassware. He’d learned a long time ago, if you kept the customers happy they’d keep coming back. He scowled; the words had come from his prostitute mother’s mouth, and he’d seen man after man return asking for her.

Are those your boxes? Miss Harrison asked, standing on the freight car above him.

Bas tipped his head back to catch a glimpse of her.

The sun overhead lit the edges of her dark hair, giving her a copper halo. A longing started in his heart, reverberating though his body. This woman’s as close to an angel as I’ll ever get.

He swallowed twice. Huh?

Her eyes twinkled with a hint of humor. I asked if those boxes were yours.

Yes. I bought these in Portland. I don’t want the contents reaching Wallula in pieces. He raised his hands to her. She frowned as she glanced from his arms to the ground far below her.

With a resigned sigh, she dropped into his arms. Bas caught her, holding her close to him a moment longer than was proper. The scent of soap and lavender floated around him. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulder as her eyes questioned him.

Sorry, he murmured, lowering her to the ground. He turned to the car to lift Lottie down, avoiding the curious green eyes that had studied him so intensely moments before.

Would you like to join me for lunch at the hotel? He placed their satchel on the ground.

Thank you, no. We’ll just walk around a bit. She grasped Lottie’s hand, and the two walked away without a backward glance.

Bas stared at her straight, thin back. Pulling a gold coin out of his pocket, he worried it between his fingers and wondered at his attraction to the woman and girl. She’d had a hard childhood; he saw it in her eyes. It was a bond they shared. Yet, she had an innocence he found intriguing. He’d never know what it was like to be innocent. Not after growing up in a brothel with an unloving mother.

Miss Harrison’s tough exterior was armor from her past. That he understood. What fascinated him was the loving relationship between the sisters. And her loyalty to a brother she’d not seen in years. Bas had never felt a strong desire for a family. Or, at least, he’d told himself that many nights as he lay cold and alone in some barn.

He flipped the coin. Heads, he’d keep a safe distance. Tails, he’d find out all there was to know about them.

He pulled his hand off the coin.

Tails.

Two

There was a tug on her sleeve. Letha turned her gaze from the river flowing past and bent so Lottie could whisper in her ear.

Can I have another piece of bread?

Letha’s stomach had growled earlier when they boarded the train, but she’d ignored it knowing they had little food to get them to Wallula. She broke off a corner of their last slice of bread, giving the largest section to Lottie. Her sister was growing and needed it more. Letha nibbled on the corner she kept for herself and watched the dockhands load the freight.

She breathed in the scent of the river. The warm air had a different smell and feel from the busy docks at Portland. The sluggish water of the large port along with the crush of sound and bodies was markedly different from the pure, fast-running water and unhurried nature of this landing. But these lazy ports had proven more dangerous.

Her thoughts wandered to the man who barged up the dock with his pistol waving and his molasses-colored eyes blazing under the brim of his hat. Even when he’d smiled at Lottie, warmth hadn’t entered those dark eyes. He’d shown good manners by helping, but she didn’t think it was something he did often. He watched them like a boy might study an insect. With curiosity and little emotion.

She wondered what it would have been like to venture into the Hotel and share a meal with a man as virile and charming as Mr. Slocum sitting across from her. No. Those kinds of thoughts had to go away. She couldn’t take any more favors from him. He was, after all, a stranger.

And a man. She would not fall victim to any man.

Is the bread helping? Letha asked, patting Lottie’s hand and drawing her attention from the large, white body of the sternwheeler, Idaho. The next ship they would take on the trip up the Columbia River. When they started the trek, she hadn’t realized how many times they would leave one ship and board another to get around the roughest sections of the wide, wild river.

Lottie tugged on her sleeve again and Letha bent down. Can we get on the boat now?

No, I’d rather stay out here in the open. She’d planned to board the boat immediately, but when several men boarded, she refrained from leaving the open dock. After her recent experience, she didn’t want to be alone where there were men. They were most likely heading to the saloon on board. The smell of liquor had been on the breath of the man who grabbed her. She touched the ribbon tied to her bodice.

God helping me, I promise not to buy, sell, or give alcoholic liquor while I live. From all tobacco, I’ll abstain and never take God’s name in vain.

Repeating the temperance oath always gave her strength. It was her validation to be strong and stand up to her beliefs. Her vow to fight the demon, that caused her sister’s inability to speak above a whisper and made men treat women like animals, was as much a part of her as eating and breathing.

She stared at the churning rapids-the reason for the portage. The beautiful, big sternwheelers wouldn’t have a chance battling through the rough current. Letha didn’t like the idea of being tossed around like the log she watched bob and disappear in the frothy water. She turned from the river and scanned the hotel most passengers had filed into.

After this ship, she would have fulfilled her obligations.

Just think, after the next portage, we can roam the ship like passengers.

Lottie rewarded Letha with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and a wide smile.

Letha smiled. She didn’t mind working. Her whole life she had a job, whether it was watching Lottie and cooking or taking over the laundry service when her mother was too ill to work.

If Robert wouldn’t take them in or they had trouble finding him, she was prepared to take whatever work she could to feed and house the two of them. They would not give up in locating Robert. It had been their dying mother’s wish to have her children reunited. Watching her mother’s torment over the years of her decision to leave one child behind had left Letha no other choice than to promise her mother they would be together as a family once again.

A cloud of black smoke puffed from the stack of the sternwheeler and the whistle blew, calling the passengers to board for their next segment of the voyage.

Letha took hold of Lottie’s hand. They walked up the plank and onto the deck, climbing the stairs to the deck above the loading area. At the top, they crossed to the railing.

Lottie tugged on her hand and pointed in the same direction she already watched. Until that moment, Letha hadn’t realized she scanned the crowd in hopes of seeing Mr. Slocum. She chided herself for even taking the trouble. He’d been chivalrous and told them to ask for him if they were in trouble, but he’d kept the whole event impersonal—until.

Her face heated as she replayed his strong arms lifting her off the freight car. His hands had burned through her dress, and his eyes held a brief flicker of interest other than curiosity. Letha wondered what he did for a living.

Shaking off her reveries, she caught sight of Mr. Slocum below. He looked straight at her. Letha couldn’t tell if it was amusement that lit his dark eyes or something else. Whatever the emotion, her heart beat faster.

He was lost from sight as he entered the deck below. She stared at the men and women pushing onto the sternwheeler and marveled at how many people could travel on the vessel.

I brought you something.

She turned toward the sound of Mr. Slocum’s deep voice. He advanced toward them through the crush of bodies flocking to the railing to wave as the ship left port.

You didn’t–

I didn’t. But I wanted to. He handed them each a ripe, red apple.

Her stomach growled, causing her face to heat.

He watched her intently. Did you have anything to eat today?

We’ve eaten, she said indignantly. He had no right treating her like a child.

Lottie tugged on his sleeve. He glanced down at her, and she crooked her finger for him to bend near.

Letha pulled her sister away from the man. He didn’t need to know how little money they had. They were not a charity case. She was strong, able bodied, and would not be indebted to any man. I won’t face indignities like Mother.

Which hotel will you be staying at in The Dalles? Mr. Slocum asked, taking her elbow and escorting her out of the throng of people.

When they were on the side of the boat away from the port, Letha turned