Free Rachel Donnelly by Lady Broke

fled along with her good humor. The clink of glass and the hum of conversation punctuated with the odd whoop of merriment barely registered. All she could think of was tearing a strip off of Leigh.
    She spotted him immediately.
    He lounged at the back of the room, cigar in one hand, a fist full of cards in the other. A half empty tumbler of whiskey rested at his elbow.
    Flossie lay draped over his shoulder like a feathery shawl, a sensual smile curving her lips.
    Christie made a beeline across the room.
    She halted directly in front of him, where he couldn’t fail to notice her. “You need to come home, right away.”
    The other three men at the table looked up from their cards, but Leigh barely spared her a glance. “Not on you life, darlin’. I’m winning.”
    Christie clinched her fists, resisting the urge to give him a sound cuff side the head. “I’m worried about Uncle Will. He should have returned from the Sutton’s hours ago.”
    “He must be having a visit,” Leigh drawled. “They probably invited him to stay on for the night.”
    “But what if he isn’t staying the night?” Christie enunciated each word for the sake of clarity. “What if he has had an accident?”
    “Don’t be such a fusspot.” Leigh scowled, before returning his attention to his cards. “Sit down and have a drink. Flossie! Go and fetch us another glass.”
    Flossie didn’t hear. She was staring across the room as though in a trance, cheeks flushed as pink as her frothy fan.
    Christie followed the direction of her gaze to the end of the bar.
    Nat Randall stood with one spurred boot balanced on the brass foot-rail, conversing with his partner Holt.
    The two might have been alone in the room for all the attention they paid anyone else.
    Hopefully, they were discussing how they’d apprehend the two Everetts still at large. The idea of one Everett languishing in the Murdock jail while the others roamed free was unsettling to say the least, especially if they decided to come and rescue their brother. Christie shivered at the thought.
    “No thank you.” It was all she could do not to give Leigh a good shake, but what was the use? No amount of shaking would make him see reason. His liquor-soaked brain was focused on the large pot of money in the center of the table. Clearly, she was wasting her time.
    She turned on her heel to leave him to his vulgar pursuits.
    She had barely taken a step when a voice boomed from the door. “Where are you, Wallace? You cheatin’ son-of-a-bitch!” A dusty cowboy with scraggly brown hair hanging out from behind his dirt-crusted hat advanced across the room. His spurs jingled like a rattlesnake warning his victim. His hawk-like nose appeared overly large above the wild green eyes bulging from his face.
    Christie didn’t take the time to examine him further. Her eyes fixed and held on the long barreled pistol clutched in his fist.
    The ruckus around them stilled.
    Then the room began to buzz, as though in anticipation of the confrontation to come.
    Mr. McNally, the proprietor and bartender, stood with both hands braced on the bar. It was hard to tell whether he was getting ready to jump over it or duck under it.
    Leigh held up both hands, his voice edged with panic. “Hey now! Steady, Harry! There’s no need for name calling. Why don’t you put down that gun and pull up a chair. We’ll have us a nice talk.”
    “Time for talkin’s done,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “The way I see it, you got two choices. You can hand over the money you cheated me out of for that good for nothin’ mine, or you can say yourself a quick prayer.”
    “Now slow down.” Leigh’s gaze shifted from the pile of money on the table then back to the barrel of the gun pointed directly at his chest. He cracked one of his slow charmer smiles. “Now, I didn’t know anything about that mine. I won it at cards, same as you. I swear to God. But, if you want your money, you’ll have to wait until this here game’s