Read Online Wild Cards and Iron Horses by Sheryl Nantus - Free Book Online

previous experiences. He had made it a priority for every match to scope out the competition, most of which should have arrived by now. They may not have chosen a fine establishment like Mrs. McGuire’s to stay in, but they would be as eager as he to begin playing. The odds were that they too would be looking for any opportunity to sharpen their skills before the actual tournament a day away.
    By the time he reached Deadeye’s Dodge, Jon’s eyes were burning and his lungs ached. The streets had emptied, with only a few stragglers wandering around. He suspected Gil would be one of them, disappearing into the shadows and somehow surviving in the town’s dark underbelly. He’d seen one or two small figures ducking in and out of the alleys. Jon shuddered inwardly, thinking of the lost children he’d seen in London. Some begged for spare change, setting themselves up on a corner and looking as sad as possible. Others tried their skills at pickpocketing, at least until the authorities caught them and shipped them off to one of the colonies to serve their time. Still others ended up offering their services to the men and women who wandered the night looking for companionship.
    Jon glanced into the darkness, searching a shadowy alley for the elusive Gil. Perhaps he could do something for the urchin before leaving Prosperity Ridge. The boy was intelligent and deserved better than running errands and the like.
    With one foot on the saloon’s front step, Jon paused. His thoughts wandered back to the workshop and the strangely enchanting Samantha Weatherly. It was too late to go back and disturb her, enquire about the status of his spring and the possible repair. But he couldn’t get her face out of his mind’s eye, or forget the soft, gentle touch of her fingers on his scarred skin.
    A man stumbled through the doors, reeking of cheap whiskey. He stared at Jonathan with bleary, bloodshot eyes and grinned.
    Returning the smile, Jon continued up the steps. The beautiful engineer could wait until morning.
    Right now he had to assess his competition and get ready for possibly the most important poker games of his life.

Chapter Five
    A familiar voice split the air as Jon entered the saloon, destroying his inner peace and threatening to force the good food from his belly. “Ah, Jonathan. I thought I’d see you here.”
    The curses bubbled up in his throat when he recognized the voice’s owner. Victor Morton. Turning to the left, Jon spotted the older man sitting at a table in the back of the saloon. Victor laughed, rocking back and forth on the rickety wooden chair.
    The man wore the latest New York fashion, a black and gold braided waistcoat snug against his robust belly, a black suit jacket tight across his broad shoulders. A garish gold chain hung down and across the vest, attached to a family heirloom pocket watch that didn’t even work and which he had no intention of having repaired. He’d told Jon that once while taking yet another pot, scooping the coins off the table.
    “Useless as tits on a bull, but my mother would die if I didn’t wear it. And I won’t waste the money to have it fixed…” Morton laughed, “…and it’s not worth anything to pawn or sell, so I’m stuck wearing the damned thing.” At the time they had been friends.
    “Come on over here, we’ve got a spot open.” The long thin fingers waved in the air.
    Jon advanced towards the back of the room, making his way around the tables. Most of them were empty, the majority of the customers standing at the bar. The bartender, a bald man with only one eye, studied Jon for only a second before turning his attention back to his business. He grabbed another round of coins from the countertop and the eager customers waiting for their drinks.
    “So, what brings you to Prosperity Ridge?” Victor asked as Jon took the open chair opposite him.
    “The same as you.” Jon nodded to the other two men at the table. “The Ridge Rocket Stakes.”
    “Ah.”