Read Online When a Texan Gambles by Jodi Thomas - Free Book Online Page A

glance. But facts were muddled in his brain. He had no idea what day, or even what month it must be, but visions of her lined the corners of his thoughts.
    He tried to think back before the pain. He’d been riding south, following a trail of cattle thieves out of Dodge. He remembered being bone-tired when he stopped at Cedar Point and deciding he might learn something about the men he was trailing if he had a few drinks. The sheriff there would loan him a cell for the night if he had too much. Sam could remember Sheriff Riley always kidded him about not being able to hold his alcohol. So why couldn’t he remember how he met this woman before him?
    The rest of that night in Cedar Point seemed more dream than memory.
    While his wife stirred up the fire, he covered himself, then sat on a box and studied her. She was a lady, that he would bet on. He’d never seen the likes of her in a saloon. But her dress was no more than a rag. Sections of the skirt were missing as if it had been quilted and someone had left out a few of the panels. She was thin, but not girl thin. A full-grown woman moved beneath those rags. A woman who hadn’t been eating regularly, he’d guess.
    “Turn around,” she ordered as she knelt behind him. “And keep still while I work.”
    Wrapping the blanket around his waist, he did as she instructed. He felt her fingers at his back, working with the knot of a bandage tied just below his rib cage. Her hands were warm and seemed used to the feel of him.
    “The wound is still closed.” Her words brushed against the back of his shoulder. “No more bleeding, but I’ll bandage it just in case.”
    He glanced over his shoulder in time to see her rip a strip of material from the skirt of her dress.
    He realized she’d been cutting her own clothes to doctor him. “I’ll buy you another dress,” he offered.
    “No,” she shot in anger. “I’ll buy my own dress.”
    Sam frowned. She might be beautiful, but she had a temper. He’d never known of a woman who got mad just because a man offered to buy her something. Yet, her touch was gentle as she spread the cotton around his waist and tied it. Her body leaned close against his, and he felt an ache like he’d never felt before. A hunger for something he’d never tasted. A longing. A hope.
    She might call herself his wife, but he’d never made love to her. There wasn’t enough pain or liquor in the world to make him forget what this woman would have felt like beneath him.
    “Who are you?” he asked as she pulled the blanket over his shoulder.
    “Forget my name again, did you, Sam?”
    He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t someone he would forget, but at the moment he couldn’t remember much more than his own name. He’d been hurt enough times to know that in a day or two the world would settle back into place, but he didn’t want to wait that long to hear her name.
    “Mrs. Sam Gatlin.” She laughed. “That’s my name.”
    He frowned.
    She took pity on him. “Sarah. I’m Sarah. Maybe next time the sheriff marries us, you’ll remember.”
    Her hand moved along his forehead as though she’d touched him there a thousand times. “How’s the hangover?”
    “Pounding,” he answered, wanting to ask about the sheriff, but guessing it could wait. “How long have I been drunk?” He caught her hand in his and held it a moment before he let go.
    “Four days.” She didn’t seem offended by his action. “Passed out most of the time, which was probably for the best.” She unwrapped a white shirt from wrinkled brown paper. “You want me to help you?” She held out the shirt.
    He thought of saying no, but he kind of liked the idea of her drawing near again. As she slipped the shirt over his shoulders, she moved close once more, bumping against him slightly, as if it were nothing unusual. He wondered if she knew no one ever came near him. No one dared.
    “Want some coffee?” She buttoned the first button, then lay her palm flat against his