The Gambler Read Free Page B

for cleaning rags a long time ago. Her hair was braided,
the dark brunette strands hanging all the way to her hips. Her
brown eyes were large and seemed too big for her dainty
features.
     
    He blinked and focused back on their
conversation. “I wasn’t. I just hate it happened the way it
did.”
     
    She shrugged one shoulder. “Bound to happen
eventually.” She ran her gaze over him from head to toe before
looking back up. The look in her eyes hardened and he saw the
contempt aimed at him. “So, what is it you want, Mr….?”
     
    “Avery. Tristan Avery.”
     
    “Mr. Avery. Why are you here?”
     
    Tristan patted the front of his jacket where
she'd seen him tuck the land deed. “I came to see what I’d won.
That’s all.”
     
    She laughed but there wasn’t anything
humorous in the sound. “You won a hundred acres of trees and soil
that won’t grow grass.” She looked around the cabin and held out
her arm in a sweeping motion. “And this fabulous cabin.
Congratulations, Mr. Avery. What will you do with it all?”
     
    Her sarcasm was noted but Tristan couldn’t
really blame her. She’d just been told she no longer owned her
property and someone she cared for was dead.
     
    His mind snagged on that last bit as he
looked at her and he noticed the dark shadows under her eyes, her
dry lips, the shabby clothes and her spindly limbs. This girl had a
rough life. It made the money in his pocket feel like a steel rod
weighing him down. Something pulled in his chest and guilt rushed
through his system. He’d killed someone she depended on. The
knowledge caused his stomach to ache.
     
    What was he to do now? He owned this property
outright and a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that
she was his responsibility too. He won that position when he killed
her stepfather and became the new owner of the land. He’d thought
to sell the property but looking at her, he knew he couldn’t do it.
How could he and sleep at night knowing he’d truly left her
homeless?
     
    Damn it all to hell. Why did life always have
to sucker-punch him when things were going his way?
     

Chapter Two
     
     
     
    Emmaline knew the exact moment he realized
her predicament. She could see it shining in his eyes as he stared
at her and something twisted in her gut. The last thing she wanted
was someone’s guilty conscience taking pity on her. She’d had
enough of that to last her a lifetime.
     
    She could see the remorse in his eyes but she
wasn’t sure what it was for. For her living conditions or because
he would leave her homeless when he took the land from her? Or was
it because he’d shot Harold?
     
    Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she
thought of her stepfather. Her current dilemma was all his fault
and the anger that came with it infuriated her. She blinked tears
away as her limbs started to tingle, then went numb.
     
    She’d been expecting to hear Harold was dead
since she was eight and now twelve years later, she refused to
offer a tear in remorse. She felt nothing, really, which bothered
her more than knowing she would be homeless soon. Her stepfather
was the most irresponsible person she’d ever known. He was a drunk
and gambled away every dime he ever made and she’d been the one to
suffer for it. Her momma would turn over in her grave if she knew
how he'd neglected her.
     
    She looked at Tristan Avery again. He was
still by the door, his hat in hand and his fancy clothes clashing
with the bleak interior of the cabin. He looked a bit lost, now,
much how she felt, and as much as her situation left her in dire
need of help, she wasn’t about to let go of the land.
     
    Her mind raced, her options few. She turned
back to the stove, jostled the door and looked in to see if the
piece of wood lying inside was still burning. She smiled when the
lie popped into her head and she straightened. “Did he tell you
there’s money owed on the property?” When she heard no answer, she
turned. “He’s been