The Lady's Hand Read online

  "Look out!" the driver shouted as he realized the danger.

  Rafe heard the warning and had only enough time to snatch Merrie up and get out of the way of the rolling barrel. Merrie clung to him as he saved them both from harm.

  "Uncle Rafe!" she cried in a breathless voice as they watched the barrel smash into some freight stacked nearby.

  "You're all right now, sweetheart," he said, holding her to his heart. The thought of anything happening to her unnerved him.

  Merrie was trembling as she reached up to kiss his cheek and then nestle against him.

  A feeling of protective tenderness swept through Rafe, and he understood completely the depth of Marc's love for his children.

  "Rafe! Merrie!" Marc charged back down the ramp to make sure they were uninjured.

  "It's all right," Rafe assured him as the driver ran toward them, too.

  "You all right, sir?" the driver asked worriedly.

  "We're fine," Rafe answered.

  Marc was furious. The possibility that Merrie might have been injured left him outraged. He turned on the driver. "It could have been serious! Check your tie-downs better next time, before somebody really gets hurt!"

  "Yes, sir." The driver saw the anger in the man's expression and quickly moved away.

  "You're sure you're all right?" Marc asked again.

  "Don't worry, Papa. Uncle Rafe saved me," Merrie said adoringly.

  "So he's the hero of the day, is he?"

  Merrie nodded, smiling brightly at both men as they headed up the walkway to the steamer. Rafe did not put her down again until they were safely on board.

  Brandy had already boarded the Pride and had been walking toward her cabin when she'd heard the driver's warning shout. She left her bags on deck and hurried toward the gangplank just in time to see the little girl snatched from the path of deadly destruction to safety by the dark-haired, handsome man. She watched a moment longer, wanting to be sure all was safe, and found herself enchanted by the scene that unfolded below.

  Brandy couldn't hear what was being said, but it touched her heart to watch the way the man cradled the child protectively to him and the way the girl hugged him and kissed his cheek. Brandy guessed he was her father, and she envied them their loving relationship. Her own father had died when she was very young, but she could still remember how safe she'd felt whenever he'd held her.

  Rafe, Marc, Louise, Jason and Merrie ate in the dining room that evening, enjoying the sumptuous fare. When the meal was over, Louise took the two children back to their room to put them to bed for the night.

  Kevin Berra and Dan Lesseg had been sharing their table, too, and when the nanny and children had gone, they engaged Rafe and Marc in conversation.

  "Have you been to the bar yet?" Kevin Berra asked Marc and Rafe after introducing himself.

  "No, not yet," Rafe answered.

  "You're in for a treat then," he told them.

  "What kind of treat?"

  "You'll get to meet Brandy tonight."

  "Who's Brandy?" Marc asked.

  "You haven't heard about Miss Brandy, the best poker player on the Mississippi?" Dan Lesseg put in with a grin. "I lost about two hundred dollars to her last night."

  "And you're smiling?" Rafe was surprised by his casual attitude toward losing. He seemed the kind of man who liked to win, not lose.

  "You'll have to meet her before you'll understand."

  "She sounds interesting."

  "Brandy's more than interesting. Why don't you come down to the bar with us now? She should be there soon, if she isn't already, and you can see for yourself"

  Rafe and Marc agreed, thinking they would enjoy another good poker game tonight. Rafe had won handily the night before, much to Marc's chagrin, and he was looking forward to a rematch.

  All rose and headed for the men's salon. As they went, Kevin and Dan related what little they knew about the elusive lady gambler.

  "There's a lot of mystery about Brandy," Kevin said. "Very little is really known about her past."

  "And many men have tried to convince her to do more than gamble with them, but for all their efforts, Brandy remains aloof. She refuses all advances," Dan added.

  Rafe was intrigued. He was beginning to believe that the voyage to St. Louis might turn out rather interesting after all.

  They entered the men's salon to find that it was already crowded. A group of men were standing around a table toward the back of the room, concentrating on the action there.

  "She's here," Kevin said, pointing toward the crowd.

  Rafe and Marc were curious, but first they went to the bar with Kevin and Dan to get a drink. Rafe bought the first round, and bourbons in hand, they made their way to join the men who were watching the game in progress.

  Rafe and Marc managed to find a place to stand directly across the table from the woman they'd heard so much about, and they understood immediately what Kevin and Dan had been saying. It was no wonder men didn't mind losing to her. Brandy was beautiful enough to distract even the most accomplished poker player.

  Rafe's gaze went over Brandy appreciatively. Her skin was flawless, and, from what he could tell, her figure was, too. He decided that even without the rouge and lip color she wore, she would be lovely. He watched her play for a while longer and realized that she was as good as the other two men had said she was. Still, he prided himself on his own cardplaying prowess and was not about to let a mere female best him at the tables.

  "Are you going to play some poker tonight?" Marc asked Rafe, already knowing the answer.

  "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He smiled wolfishly, knowing he was going to enjoy the evening to come.

  "Me, too."

  Brandy had been concentrating fiercely on her cards, but she sensed someone new staring at her. When she finally won the hand and raked in her winnings, she looked up. It was then that her gaze collided with the stranger's intense blue-eyed regard.

  Brandy recognized him immediately as the man she'd seen earlier on the levee with the child. She had thought him good-looking then and very much a father figure, but right now there was nothing fatherly about him. In fact, he was far more attractive than she'd originally thought. Darkly handsome, he had an aura of power and almost danger about him. He stood well over six feet tall. His shoulders were wide and powerful and filled his tailored jacket to perfection. Brandy decided that his wife was one very lucky woman.

  "Evenin'," she said in a welcoming tone meant just for him.

  "Good evening, Brandy," Kevin and Dan said eagerly in unison. They were standing nearby and thought she was talking to them.

  Rafe knew she'd been speaking to him, but he only tipped his head slightly in acknowledgment of her greeting.

  Marc was standing beside him, and he smiled at the exchange. He thought Brandy one outstanding example of womanhood and knew this was going to be a very interesting evening.

  "How are you tonight?" she asked Kevin and Dan, tearing her gaze from the stranger to glance over at them.

  "Just fine, and you look like you're doing fine, too," Kevin said, seeing her winnings piled before her.

  "So far, it has been a profitable night for me, but it's early yet," she told him. "You know how Lady Luck is. One minute she's on your side and the next..."

  "I'll say," whined Tom Jackson, a heavy-set man with beady eyes and thinning gray hair. He'd been drinking too much and had lost quite a bit on the last hand. "I wish Lady Luck would find me tonight."

  "Me, too," a player near Rafe said as he stood up, quitting the game. "G'night, Brandy."

  "Good night, James." She smiled at him as he moved off to the bar.

  Rafe moved into the vacant chair, ready to test his card-playing abilities against her.

  "Do you like to play poker, Mr....?" Brandy asked as she shuffled the deck. Her movements were sure and deft.

  "Marchand, Rafe Marchand, and yes, I've been known to enjoy a hand now and then," he answered easily.

  "Ante up,
gentlemen," she said as she slid her own money forward to the center of the table and then began to deal.

  Rafe and the other four men at the table tossed their money in the pot with hers and were ready to play. Marc looked on, waiting for an opportunity to join in.

  Three hands later, Rafe realized that Brandy had rightly earned her reputation. She was shrewd, played smart, and knew when to cut and run. As much as it irked him, for he had only won one hand so far, he had to admit that he admired her skill. She was good.

  When another man dropped out, Marc took his chair.

  "Welcome to the game," she greeted him, thinking him attractive in a wholesome, honest-looking way.

  "My pleasure, believe me."

  "We're playing five-card draw," she said as she deftly dealt the hand.

  "Have you been doing this long, Brandy?" Marc asked as he picked up his cards.

  "I learned how to play when I was young, but I've only been on the Pride for about six months."

  "Well, we're glad you are," one of the other men put in.

  "Thank you. I enjoy being here. Where else could I spend every evening with such handsome, enter taining men?" she answered lightly.

  Tom Jackson grumbled something, but they ignored him.

  An easy banter developed at the table, for everyone was enjoying themselves-everyone, that was, except Jackson, who continued to drink and lose and complain.

  "So, Miss Brandy, will you join me for a stroll on deck later this evening?" John Boyer, asked, his gaze hungry upon her. He had been wanting to get her alone since he'd first set eyes on her, and after six whiskeys he was emboldened to make his move.

  "Why, Mr. Boyer, I do appreciate your kind invitation, but I make it a point never to mix business with pleasure. I do not socialize with the passengers."

  Boyer was confident that he could change her mind. "I'll show you a good time."

  Brandy managed to control the urge to tell him what he could do with his good time. She had seen the look that was in his eyes many times before from a lot of other men and knew exactly what he wanted from her... and it wasn't just a good time. "You are a charmer, sir, and I'm sure we'd have a delightful time together, but I never make exceptions to my rule. I wouldn't want any of the other gentlemen to get the wrong impression. I'm here to gamble, nothing more."

  Several of the men who'd known Brandy for a while chuckled over Boyer's lack of success.

  "Told you so," one said under his breath.

  "You can't blame a man for asking." Boyer goodnaturedly shrugged off her rejection. "I'm usually pretty successful with women."

  "I'm sure you are," Brandy agreed, and then, to lighten the mood even more, she turned to Rafe. "And so is Mr. Marchand, judging from what I saw earlier today on the levee. Tell me, sir, do you make it a practice to go around rescuing young ladies in distress? And when you do, do they always reward you that way?"

  Rafe grinned lazily. "You were watching?"

  Brandy was amazed at how the smile transformed him. For one brief moment, the guarded aloofness about him was gone. "That young lady certainly adores you. You must be quite wonderful to inspire such devotion."

  "I have my moments," Rafe returned.

  "What happened?" Boyer asked eagerly, thinking something exciting had gone on.

  "Well, a certain young lady kissed Mr. Marchand right there in front of everyone, and from the look of it, I do believe he enjoyed every minute."

  "Indeed I did," he answered. "What man wouldn't want a beautiful female kissing him?"

  "She seems to love you very much."

  Boyer was listening more and more avidly to their conversation.

  "The feeling is mutual. I'd do anything for her." His expression darkened, and a note of bitterness sounded in his tone as he went on, "Innocent beauties like Merrie are rare treasures."

  Brandy saw the change in his expression and heard the edge in his voice and wondered at it. "Spoken like a true father."

  "Father?" Boyer croaked in confusion.

  "Godfather," Rafe corrected. "I'd claim Merrie as my own any day, but I think Marc might have something to say about it." He nodded toward Marc.

  "That I would," Marc put in. "I"m rather fond of her myself."

  "She's very lucky to have both of you."

  "Father? Godfather? How old is this `Merrie'?" Boyer blurted out in frustration.

  "My daughter is four," Marc supplied.

  Those gathered around the poker table laughed at the revelation, while Boyer looked disappointed. Only Jackson didn't respond to their banter. He was too caught up in worrying about his losses.

  "Are you going to talk all night, or are we going to play cards?" Jackson demanded impatiently. Brandy had finally dealt him a decent hand, and he was ready to play. He was sure this one would be a winner, and he'd be able to recoup all his losses.

  "Of course, Mr. Jackson." She smiled at him as she studied her own cards.

  Jackson totally ignored her attempt at friendliness. He just slugged down another straight shot, then pushed his glass aside in a rough manner. He led off the betting.

  The play was spirited. The betting turned heavy.

  Brandy concentrated solely on the game. She was aware of each man's mood. She watched for slight changes in their expressions and the way they hesitated over drawing a card. She noticed how they held their cards, too, for that was important. She understood all the nuances of playing poker and used that knowledge to her advantage. It rarely failed her.

  Jackson's complaining had made Brandy aware of his dire financial situation, and she paid particular attention to him, watching from beneath lowered lashes. She wished that he'd quit playing long ago, before things had gotten so far out of hand, but compulsive gamblers rarely stopped on their own.

  When Boyer and another man folded, Brandy knew she'd been right about their hands. She grew more confident. Finally, the last bet was placed and Brandy called, spreading her winning hand out on the table for all to see.

  Rafe stared at her cards in irritation, realizing she'd beaten him again.

  "Thanks for a great game, gentlemen," she said as she reached out to rake in her winnings. "I appreciate your generosity."

  "Hold it, woman!" Jackson snarled as he stood up suddenly, jarring the table and knocking his chair over.

  The room fell silent at his violent move. Everyone stared at the out-of-control, drunken gambler.

  "You were cheating!" Jackson accused her. "I know you were! That pot is mine!" He went for his gun.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Brandy ordered in a cold voice. In her hand, a small but deadly derringer was already pointed at Jackson's heart.

  Brandy had reacted so quickly to his threatening move that no one had even seen her draw. A shocked murmur ran through the crowd.

  "What the hell?" Jackson froze just as his gun cleared the leather of his holster. He turned ashen at the sight of her gun on him.

  "Hell is exactly where you're going to end up, if you don't stop and think about what you're doing, Mr. Jackson." Her green-eyed gaze was cold upon him. "I don't cheat. I don't need to. Now, don't do anything stupid. I'll use this gun if I have to."

  "But that money's mine! I had two pair!"

  "That money is not yours. I had three of a kind, and that beats what you had and what everyone else had at this table. If you can't afford to lose, you shouldn't play."

  "You can't talk to me like that after you been stealing from me and everybody else all night long!" He looked around for moral support, but found none.

  "The game was a fair one, Jackson," Rafe asserted, his hand sliding toward his own sidearm. As crazy drunk as Jackson was, he wanted to be ready just in case the man started shooting. "I've played with cheats before, and this lady is not one of them. Her game's an honest one."

  Jackson was sputtering mad. "She ain't nothing but a whore! Doing what she does! Cheating honest men this way!"

  "Shut up, Jackson," Rafe snarled.

  Marc recognized
Rafe's tone. It wasn't good to push Rafe, and Jackson would have realized it if he hadn't been so drunk.

  "We all lost, Jackson. Not only you," Marc said sternly, wanting to diffuse things. "Why don't you just turn around and walk on out of here?"

  "But she...!"

  Brandy lifted her weapon for emphasis. She had kept it poised and ready. If there was one other essential thing that old gambler had taught her years ago, it had been never to bluff with a gun-if you draw it, plan to use it. He'd shown her how to handle one and where to aim for maximum effectiveness. She'd never had to fire it in a situation like this before, but the way things were going, it looked like that might change. Her gaze remained riveted on Jackson as she awaited his next move.

  The room was tense and silent.

  "Well, Jackson? What's it going to be?" Brandy demanded.

  Jackson stared down her gun and began to tremble. "But my money..."

  "It's not your money anymore," Brandy repeated. "Quit while you're ahead."

  "Ahead? How can you say I'm ahead?" Jackson was growing even more furious. Besides his losses, he'd been outgunned by a female. "I've lost everything!"

  "You're still alive, aren't you?"

  "What's the trouble here?" Ben Rodgers demanded as he charged into the salon backed by two burly deckhands. He'd heard there was trouble in the men's salon and had wasted no time coming to Brandy's aid.

  "Trouble?" Brandy looked up at Ben almost innocently, yet the gun did not shift from its target. "I don't think there's any trouble here, Captain. Is there, Mr. Jackson?"

  Jackson knew he was defeated. He'd lost his money, and now he'd lost his pride.

  "No. There's no trouble here." He backed down, shoving his gun back in his holster.

  "Good." Ben was relieved, but he still kept an eye on the drunken passenger. "Then let's get you out of here and see what we can do about putting you ashore. I don't take kindly to poor losers with hot tempers and guns on my steamboat."

  Ben and his two men led the cursing Jackson from the saloon.

  It wasn't until they'd gone that Brandy realized just how tense she'd been. When she lowered the gun, her hand started to shake. Even so, she managed a slight smile.