As luck would have it, several games were just getting started and he had his pick of which table he wanted to sit at. He settled on one with two empty seats and two familiar faces that belonged to the well-dressed older gentlemen who’d been talking with Dulcie earlier. They were in even finer suits that night, complete with gold watch chains crossing their bellies and expensive beaver hats resting nearby. The third man at the table had the reddened face and tough skin of someone who spent his days under the hot desert sun. Judging by the amount of money he’d brought with him, it was Slocum’s guess the man was a miner. It wouldn’t take too many hands for the conversation to flow, and that assumption was quickly proven to be correct. The man was indeed a miner who’d cashed in on a better-than-average hunk of gold he’d pulled out of a nameless stream.

  Slocum doubted the strike was as modest as all that and knew damn well the stream had a name, but none of that mattered. The miner had come to gamble and was a terrible liar. Just when Slocum thought his fortune couldn’t get any better, Dulcie made her appearance.

  “Hello, Wade,” she said to the miner sitting directly to Slocum’s left. “You finally pull something from all that dirty water?”

  The miner’s eyes lit up as he stood halfway up while Dulcie sat down. “Sure did! It was . . .” He paused and glanced around as if anyone at the table was still being fooled by his attempt to downplay his windfall. “It should be enough to keep me in supplies for a spell.”

  She took a seat directly across from Slocum, smiled, and said, “Well, that’s good. I’d hate to see that cute little mule of yours go hungry.”

  Wade grinned as if Dulcie had just uttered the most insightful words ever spoken.

  Dulcie was dressed in a dark red dress that covered up a bit more than the one she’d been wearing earlier. On the other hand, her breasts were pushed up even higher to make up for it. Her hair was fashioned into a single wave that smelled of rosewater and nearly matched the color of her painted lips. Her hands were covered in thin lace gloves, which she removed in a delicate show that caught the attention of both older gentlemen sitting on either side of her. “You don’t mind if I play, do you?” she asked.

  Mr. Bennett was the man sitting to Slocum’s right. He was a squat fellow with thinning hair and a thick face. “Not at all,” he replied. “I was just about to inquire as to your whereabouts.”

  “Inquire no further,” she said while brushing a finger against his chin. “I’m right here.”

  Not only hadn’t Slocum seen Mr. Bennett grin so widely before, but he wouldn’t have thought the man’s severe face was capable of such an expression.

  “What about you?” she asked while looking across the table at Slocum. “Any objections?”

  “Not at all. The game’s five-card stud.”

  “Oh,” Dulcie sighed. “Can someone tell me how to play that one?”

  Slocum had a hard time believing anyone might take that seriously, but the other three men at the table nearly tripped over one another to be the first one to explain the rules to her.

  At the end of the deal, Slocum had four cards to a straight showing and a useless high card facedown on the table. Wade had folded before the last card was dealt. Mr. Mason was doing the bare minimum to stay in the hand despite not having much of anything to speak of. Dulcie had a pair of threes showing and Mr. Bennett was looking down at two pair.

  “What are you going to do?” Dulcie asked breathlessly. When Bennett glanced over at Slocum, she added, “I’d watch out for him. I recognize that twinkle in his eye.”

  “You’ve played with Mr. Slocum before?”

  Without missing a beat, she replied, “No, but it’s the same twinkle every man gets when he’s trying to hide something. I make it my business to spot such things.”

  She was laying it on a little thick. Although she already had Wade and Mr. Mason wrapped around her little finger, Bennett was putting up more of a fight. Slocum tried to meet her eyes long enough to show her a hint of disapproval. Then again, considering what he’d already been told about Dulcie’s job at the saloon, it was hard for him to say if she would even be receptive to that. All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t beat two of the three hands at the table. If Mason was holding on to something other than the thin hope of winning on a bluff, Slocum was at the very bottom of the pile.

  “Raise it fifty dollars,” Bennett said.

  That hit Slocum like a quick jab to the gut. He couldn’t afford to call, so it was either fold or try to steal it some other way. Nodding as if he actually had a tough decision to make, Slocum grabbed some of the money in front of him with as much respect as he might show to a pile of empty peanut shells. “Make it another seventy-five,” he said while tossing the full amount toward the middle of the table.

  Mr. Mason ground his teeth, checked his hole card three more times, and then pitched it onto the pile of deadwood. “You men go ahead and fight over it.” Casting a glance over to Dulcie, he added, “Pardon me.”

  “Why, thank you,” she said. Shifting her focus to Slocum, Dulcie tapped her chin and lifted an eyebrow in an expression that could have either been playful or conniving. “What are you trying to pull, Mr. Slocum? Do you really think you can beat my hand?”

  Although he’d seen her cards more than enough to commit them to memory, he looked at them once more. There were two unmatched face cards next to the pair of threes. When he looked back up at her, Slocum caught an unmistakable flicker of something that came and went like a fleeting shadow. It had definitely been there, however, and it had definitely been intended for his eyes only.

  “I don’t know,” Slocum replied. “Does a straight beat three of a kind?”

  She looked at her hole card again, turned it back down on the table, and placed one pretty hand on top of it. The expression on her face shifted to something more intense, but still playful. The difference was that she now looked more like a cat playing with its food before she devoured it. “I guess we’ll have to find out,” she said. “But not for free.”

  Bennett watched her shove most of her stack into the pot and didn’t even waste time peeking at his card before shoving it and the rest of them onto the discard pile. “It’s all yours. May the best hand win, because it surely isn’t mine.”

  Drumming his fingers on the table, Slocum shifted his hand slightly so he could feel the money in front of him. It wasn’t enough to allow him to get an accurate count, but he got a good idea of where he stood without taking his eyes off Dulcie. A lot of things went through his mind. She may have a third three. She could be bluffing. He also wondered if she and one of the older gentlemen had struck a deal to bump up the size of the pots. Of course, he was aware of that being a possibility going in. That could prove to be a good bit of planning or proof that Slocum was the biggest fool in the room.

  Dulcie never looked away from him at any point throughout his thought process. She kept her chin resting upon one hand tapping the top of her cards. Every so often, she’d smile.

  Damn, Slocum thought. Somehow she got her hands on another three.

  “I’ll catch you next time,” he said as he pitched his hand.

  The smile on her face was as wicked as it was enticing. “Not if I catch you first,” she replied while raking in her winnings.

  Compliments drifted to her from around the table as the other men let out the collective breath they’d been holding. Over the course of the next two hands, Dulcie stacked her winnings and played without making any waves. Some barbed glances passed between her and Slocum, but most of the tension shifted to Mason and Wade as those two found themselves head-to-head for a few impressive pots. When another hand turned into a personal war, Slocum excused himself to stretch his legs. By the time he made it to the bar, he found his legs were stretched more than enough.

  “How’s the game holding up?” Conrad asked.

  “Do I have enough credit left for a whiskey?”

  “Just.”

  “Perfect,” Slocum replied, “because I need it. What’s that tell you about how the game’s going?”

  Conrad filled a glass with whiskey and smiled apologetically. A few seconds later, Dulcie sidled up and said, “Pour me one, too.”

  Slocum leaned against the bar and watched her drink. Her lips pressed against the rim of the glass, and when she’d taken her sip, she licked her bottom lip using just the tip of her tongue. It was quite a show.

  “So tell me,” she said in a voice that was just loud enough to be heard above all the other noises in the place. “Did you at least have a pair higher than my threes in that hand?” When Slocum scowled at her, she added, “I know you didn’t have a straight. It’s all right. The hand’s over.”

  “Yeah, but the game isn’t.”

  She’d already set the glass down, but now moved her fingertips up and down its length as she smiled at him again. Her hand moved away from the glass and to the edge of her neckline so her nails grazed the smooth contours of her cleavage. With an even smoother motion, she slipped her fingers between her breasts and removed the small bundle of cash that had been hidden there. “That’s yours,” she said while handing it over.

  Slocum took the money. It was warm from her body heat and smelled like her perfume. “What’s this for?”

  “That hand I was talking about. The one where we got everyone to fold after all those raises. Conrad told me you were asking about me, so I thought I’d pay you a visit. Turns out we work well together.”

  Slocum looked over to the bartender, but only got half a shrug in return. “Funny, but he never mentioned we’d be working together.”

  “That’s because he just points me in the right direction. I decide who I want to work with. You and I,” she said while tapping his chest with one finger, “work very well together. Don’t you think?”

  “Actually, yes. What are you proposing?”

  “Wait for the pots to grow, look for chances to make them even fatter, and then make certain we’re the only ones left standing when it comes time to show our cards. We’ll only split the pots when we give each other a signal to work together. If I’ve got something, I’ll let you know by flirting with Wade. If you have something . . .”

  “I’ll tickle Mr. Bennett’s nose.”

  She laughed a little too hard and looked toward the table. “I’m supposed to be talking you into keeping your money in the game. Did I do a good job?”

  “For now.”

  “Good,” she said while plastering a smile onto her face that was obviously meant to be seen from across the room. “And do I really get to enjoy watching you tickle that old man’s nose?”

  “If I have something, I’ll scratch my head. But I gotta warn you, signals like this don’t exactly work more than once or twice before someone catches on.”

  “We won’t need it to work more than once or twice.” With that, Dulcie rubbed his shoulder and made her way back to the table.

  Slocum watched her go, enjoying every twitch of her hips and bounce of her hair. No matter how good of a sight it was, it didn’t go all the way in making his arrangement easier to swallow. Card cheats were swindlers, plain and simple. When they got caught, which they most often did, they got what was coming to them. On the other hand, since it looked as though he might have a rough time getting any money out of Warren, Slocum was in need of some funds. When Dulcie took her seat, he turned around to lean his elbows against the bar.

  Conrad stood directly across from him with a knowing grin on his face. “Bout of conscience?” he asked.

  “Never a problem with me, friend,” Slocum replied.

  “I’ve seen Dulcie make arrangements with enough gamblers to recognize it when I see it. But let’s just say I don’t see it too often.”

  Slocum grinned and shook his head. “So does that make me a saint or a fool?”

  “It makes you someone that deserves an extra piece of information.” Turning so he was leaning sideways against the bar while cleaning a glass using a dirty rag, Conrad said, “You know that proposition Dulcie made to you just now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She made the same one with Mr. Bennett. Let’s just say that he didn’t have the same reservations you seem to be having right now.”

  “You picked up that much from watching behind the bar?”

  Conrad shrugged and grabbed another glass to be cleaned. “Part of my job. I notice a lot of things. For instance, I can see you’re starting to get an unfavorable opinion of that little lady sitting at your card table.”

  “Didn’t take a very sharp eye to pick out that much,” Slocum grunted.

  “Don’t blame Dulcie. She’s just doing her job. If you’ve gambled in more than one or two saloons in your life, you’ve got to know she’s not the first one to have a job like that. Damn near every game has to favor the house one way or another. Otherwise, why would the house tolerate it being there?”

  Slocum had gambled in plenty of saloons and he knew the lay of the land where house odds were concerned. That didn’t mean he had to agree with it or even like it very much. Still, he sat down and played when he got the chance. Knowing what he did, that made him a bigger idiot than the cowboys who were too dumb to know they were being swindled.

  “Why tell me this?” he asked.

  “Maybe I like to reward a man for having a conscience. Spending enough time in a place like the Jackrabbit makes you appreciate something like that. Plus I’d rather see you come out ahead in that game than Mr. Bennett. Rich assholes strut in here all the time, look down their noses at everyone, and expect to be treated like kings for no good reason. Sticks in my craw to see a man wearing a hundred-dollar watch who can’t be bothered to pay for his own damn meals.”

  “Doesn’t pay for his food?”

  “Not without a hell of a fuss. Worked up a nice bill, but acts like spending money on fancy whiskey entitles him to everything else we got.”

  “Just to be certain, you don’t hold a grudge against me using nothing but credit for all of my meals?”

  Conrad chuckled and said, “Least we’re getting paid. Take what you want from what I said. Just watch your back where Mr. Bennett is concerned. That other one, too. Birds of a feather and all of that, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Slocum headed back to the card table and sat down. Dulcie was so busy keeping the others entertained that it took another minute or so for everyone to realize he’d returned. The cards were dealt and the game was quickly under way.

  A few hands later, she sighed and looked at the miner. “You still married to Anna?”

  “Sure,” Wade replied. “Going on two years now.”

  “She’s a lucky woman. Fine man like you walking around, I’d never let you get outside where anyone else could snatch you up.”

  There was the signal. It wasn’t anything close to subtle, but fell in line with Dulcie’s general demeanor. Sure enough, Dulcie raked in the pot with a full house. Slocum gave her high marks for sticking to her system and carried on.

  It took a few more hours, but he eventually picked up on another little system that seemed to be in play. Every time Mr. Bennett waved to the girl who brought drinks to the table, he just happened to have a whale of a hand. Slocum caught on to this during a rush of good luck where Bennett took four out of six pots in a short stretch of time and wound up with two full drinks in front of him. All four of those pots were significantly goosed by Dulcie’s efforts to wheedle more money from everybody else. He tried to figure out what Dulcie’s signal to Bennett might have been, but she was doing a much better job of covering her tracks than the enthusiastic fellow with the expensive watch. Slocum had more than enough information to work with, however, and waited for a chance to put it to work.

  An hour and a half later, that chance finally came.

  Slocum had scratched his head once, but only when he had three kings. Bennett had four to a flush showing and was waving to the serving girl for a refill on one of his two drinks. Dulcie acknowledged Slocum’s signal with a smile and started her magic.

  “I don’t know,” she sighed after Slocum raised and the next two men in line called. “That’s so much money. Will all of you boys let me know what you had if I fold?”

  “If you don’t pay to see the cards, you just need to hope someone else does,” Mr. Mason replied sternly.

  “Oh,” she said with enough of a pout that made her seem genuinely hesitant to call. She raised in an equally timid manner, seeming slightly regretful when she looked over to the man that was next in line to act.

  Bennett held her glance for about half a second too long before folding. Either he got a bad feeling on his own or it was put there by something Dulcie passed along to him. Either way, Slocum wound up taking the pot. The next round of cards was dealt, and by the time the last round of betting was to commence, Bennett had ordered another drink. At least he was slick enough to cover it by draining the others that were already in front of him.

  When Slocum looked down at the cards that were showing, he saw the four, five, six, and eight of clubs. He looked up at Dulcie, returning her smile. His hole card was a seven. He set it down decidedly as if he didn’t intend on picking it up again. “I bet ten,” he said.

  Wade looked at Slocum’s cards, checked his own, and raised it to twenty.

  “It’s too late to be playing for such small stakes,” Mr. Mason declared. “Make it fifty.”

  “Ooo,” Dulcie cooed. “This is exciting. What would you say to a hundred?”

  In front of Mr. Bennett were three nines and the jack of diamonds. Since he hadn’t ordered his drink until the final card had been dealt, Slocum figured it must have been a peach because Bennett didn’t even try to appear hesitant about answering the raise. Looking over to Slocum, he added, “What’ve you got to say to that, Johnny? Still want to stand behind that busted flush?”

  Being called Johnny was usually enough to grate on Slocum’s nerves. Hearing it from the likes of Mr. Bennett after an entire night of putting up with the rich man’s smugness was enough to test the limits of his patience. “What’ve I got to say?” he replied with a scowl. “How about five hundred? You like the sound of that?”