The Gamble (I) by Lavyrle Spencer Read Free Book Online

t’ you there, but decided it’d be best t’ do so in private.”
    The needle seemed to grow slick in her fingers. What possible reason could he have for observing her comings and goings?
    “Last night at Paulie’s, I wanted t’ say that—” He cleared his throat nervously.
    She gave up all pretense of sewing and glared up at him. “Last night at Paulie’s you should have had the good grace to leave when you saw I was there. Was it amusing, Mr. Gandy? Did you enjoy humiliating me in front of people I know? Did your...” She paused disdainfully. “Did your friends in the saloon get a good laugh when you told them how you offered to buy supper for that old-maid millinerwith the game leg?” She threw down her work. “And what, pray tell, are you doing with my personal belongings?”
    Scott Gandy had the grace to blush effusively.
    “Is that what you all think? That I offered t’ buy your supper to make fun of you?” His black eyebrows curled. A wedge of creases appeared between them.
    She picked up the hat and stabbed it again, too upset to meet his eyes. “Isn’t it?”
    “Not at all, ma’am, I assure you. I’m from Miz’sippi, Miz Downin’. My mama taught me early t’ respect womenfolk. Whatever it might look like, I had no intention of setting you in the mud yesterday or of embarrassing you last night in the eatin’ saloon. I wanted to pay for your supper by way of apology, that’s all.”
    Agatha didn’t know whether to believe him or not. She was making hash of her stitches, but she kept pushing the needle because she didn’t know what else to do, and she was too embarrassed to look up at him.
    “I truly am sorry, Miz Downin’.”
    His voice sounded contrite. She looked up to see if his eyes were the same. They were; and his mouth was somber. Rarely in her life had she seen a face more handsome. It was easy to see why featherheads like Violet became unhinged over him. But she was not Violet, nor was she a featherhead.
    “You think a mere apology excuses such gross behavior?”
    “Not at all. It was inexcusable. However, I didn’t know at the time you had difficulty walking. Later I saw you goin’ on down to the Finn’s with your dirty clothes and I thought I’d injured you when I knocked you down. Dan Loretto set me straight. However, when he did, I felt even worse.”
    Agatha dropped her chin, squirming under his direct gaze.
    “I know I can’t do anythin’ about the embarrassment I caused, but I figured the least I could do was take care o’ the laundry bill.” He laid her dress and petticoat carefully across the worktable. “So, here. All clean and paid for. If anythin’s damaged beyond repair, ya’ll be sure t’ let me know and I’ll make it right.”
    No man had ever touched Agatha’s petticoats. To have a man like him do so was rattling. His hands were very dark against the white cotton. She glanced aside, distraught. Her eyes fell on the hand that held his black hat against his thigh. On his little finger glittered a pea-sized diamond ring set in gold. The hat was a good one—if there was one thing she knew, it was hats. This one was a Stetson, by the look of it, a “wide-awake” beaver felt with low crown and wide brim, the newest profile for men. He had money enough for diamonds and new Stetsons and sheet-sized oil paintings—let him pay her laundry bill. She deserved it.
    She braved meeting his eyes directly, her own cold and accusing. “I suspect, Mr. Gandy, that you’ve gotten wind of the battle about to be waged in this town over the sale of spirits, and you’re here seeking to protect your interests by placating me with a few hollow apologies. Some women...”—it was all Agatha could do to keep from glaring at Violet—“... might have their heads turned by your smooth talk. I, however, know when I’m being hogwashed by a stream of self-interested ooze. And if you think I’ll back down on the issue of the lewd painting, you’re mistaken. Violet is