The Cowboy's Cinderella. Carol Arens

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СКАЧАТЬ of the River Belle at a little after nine. This early in the evening gaming was a social event, the bets low enough that the gamblers without much money could join in and hope to get lucky.

      The luck that Travis was after was to find Eleanor Magee without losing too much in the process.

      He’d been partially successful. In the three hours he’d been in this chair, he had tripled his money but come no closer to unearthing the elusive Miss Magee.

      He’d met a lot of people from both boats tonight, deck hands, roustabouts and sons of millionaires. He’d been told that the fathers and boat owners would come later on when the losers had drunk their fill and emptied their pockets.

      If he quit playing now, he’d be nicely ahead. But there were still plenty of folks visiting the saloon. One of them might know something.

      The future of the Lucky Clover’s cowboys and their families depended upon what happened here. What was walking away a winner compared to that?

      A woman came into the saloon, her sparkling gown catching the glow of the lantern light. She was too old to be Agatha’s twin. No doubt she was the wife of a rich gambler, or perhaps the mother of one of the young men at the table with him.

      The dealer skillfully dealt the hands. Travis stared down at the backs of his cards, wondering what they would reveal. The only lady he was going to find was the cold likeness of a queen.

      He yawned. Couldn’t help it. It was nearly midnight and he, because of his years on the ranch, was an early riser.

      All of a sudden the scent of fresh water chased away the stench of tobacco.

      “Howdy-doo, gentlemen!”

      “Miss Ivy!” exclaimed a young man sitting at the table. He greeted her with a broad, friendly grin. “You won’t get my money this time!”

      None of the men stood up like they had done when the woman in the sparkling gown came in.

      Just because Ivy didn’t have an elegant bearing, did not mean she was not a woman due respect.

      Travis stood, pulled out the chair beside him. “Miss Ivy,” he said. “We’d be pleased to have you join us.”

      “Nice to see there’s one gentleman present.” She slapped him on the back and sat down on the red velvet stool. “Boys, hold on to your chips. Especially you, Travis. Once a fellow begins to yawn, he might just as well pass his money to the left...gosh almighty, I’m on your left!”

      Laughter rang out at the table. Clearly, Ivy was a popular player.

      Ivy’s hat shifted. She reached for the pouch and stroked it. He doubted that anyone else knew there was a mouse living inside. For some reason it pleased him, sharing that special secret with Ivy.

      An hour later, Ivy had most of the chips in front of her. Somehow, he had managed to only lose a small stack to her.

      It was now one thirty in the morning. Back home everyone would be asleep except for the cowboys keeping night watch over the herd.

      He tried to stifle a yawn but the urge to doze was too strong.

      “Better get back to the River Queen, Travis, before all your chips end up in front of me.”

      She leaned closer to him and whispered. “I’ll ask around after your heir.”

      “Obliged,” he whispered back. And he was. In the shape he was in now Eleanor could sit down next to him and he wouldn’t even notice.

      He stood up, bid the men at the table goodbye then nodded to the man waiting to fill his spot.

      From the doorway, he heard Ivy ask the newcomer if he knew someone named Eleanor...last name unknown.

      Walking out onto the deck, he shook his head. How had he neglected to inform Ivy that Eleanor’s last name was Magee? In the end, he reckoned it didn’t matter since she might be going by another name anyway.

      Fresh June air washed the scent of tobacco from his hair and clothes. He breathed it deeply to cleanse his lungs. While cowboys also tended to smoke around the campfire at night, the space was wide open and one did not become suffocated with the fumes.

      It was a short walk from the gangplank of the River Belle to the gangplank of the River Queen. Walking between them, he gazed up at the stars, then lower at the lamps glowing cheerfully in the windows of the Queen’s casino.

      It would be a profitable night for both boats.

      For Travis, there was only one thing he wanted...well two, maybe three...but just now, he was for his cot next to his horse on the lower deck.

      Rounding a corner, he spotted Captain Malone. The boat owner stepped away from the shadowed wall and strode toward him, his pipe puffing smoke into the night.

      “Mr. Murphy,” the captain said. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you.”

      That was a bit of luck. He’d been eager to speak with Malone but had never gotten the opportunity.

      “If you wouldn’t mind?” Captain Malone indicated a bench with a swipe of his pipe. “It’s been a long day and these old bones begin to ache, what with the damp and cold coming off the river. I ain’t the man I used to be...not by a stone’s throw.”

      “I’ve been hoping to speak with you as well.” Travis sat then the Captain sat beside him. The boat swayed gently beside the dock. The splash of water against the side sounded gentle compared to the jovial laughter and the cries of dismay of the gamblers.

      “Ivy tells me you’ve been looking for a woman named Eleanor. May I ask what her last name is?”

      “Eleanor Magee, sir.” He swiped his hand across his face, trying to rub away some of the weariness. “It’s most urgent that I find her.”

      The captain sighed, shook his head.

      “You have found her, son.”

Chapter Three

      The noon hour was later than Ivy liked to rise, but the sock in her drawer was stuffed with money so the late night spent on the River Belle had been well worth it.

      While quickly plaiting her hair in a single braid, she imagined the happy look on her uncle’s face when she handed over her winnings. If gambling kept up like it was, the River Queen could sail the Missouri for years to come.

      She was smiling and tying the red-flowered belt through the loops of her pants when there came a vigorous pounding on her door.

      She opened up with a grin on her face, ready to greet her visitor.

      “Captain wants to see you in the pilothouse.” Tom announced without his usual smile. “Like to know what you did to make him so out of sorts. We’re all paying for it, so you know.”

      Generally, Uncle Patrick was a man of slow temper.

      What in good glory could have happened?

      She СКАЧАТЬ