Jingo released the brake and lifted his whip, but before he could snap it over the team, a tall man barreled down the hotel steps and yanked open the passenger door. “Aw, hell.” Jingo spit a mouthful of tobacco juice beside the coach.
Hawk grabbed his rifle but Jingo laid a gnarled hand on the barrel.
“You know that guy?” Hawk asked.
“Sorta. Gambler sometimes. Horse trader other times.” The whip cracked and the stage lurched forward.
“Is he on any Wanted posters?”
“Naw. Too slippery if ya ask me. S’ides, gambling ain’t illegal. Yet.”
“Yet? What does that mean?”
Jingo spat again. “Women get the vote, first thing them straitlaced old biddies’ll do is outlaw card playing.”
Hawk kept his mouth shut about the passengers and the straitlaced part. Sure was thought-stopping, though. He’d once won a woman in a card game.
He couldn’t help worrying about what was going on inside the coach. Couldn’t hear anything over the thunder of horses’ hooves and creaking wheels. He knew Fernanda would fire off a shot if something was wrong, but...
“Hold up, Jingo.”
“Huh? What for?”
“You heard me, pull up.”
He was off the driver’s bench before the stage rattled to a stop. He strode around to the passenger door and yanked it open.
Fernanda let out a screech. “What happen, señor?”
“Nothing, yet. Any trouble back here?”
Caroline sat straight-backed in her severe dark blue dress, her hands primly folded in her lap. Hawk noted her knuckles were white. Gambler man tipped his black derby back off his face and blinked small round eyes at him. “You expecting some trouble, Sheriff?”
Hawk swore under his breath. The man was sprawled beside Fernanda, his long legs resting on the seat next to Caroline. Hawk used the rifle barrel to knock them to the floor.
“Hey, what the—?”
“You only paid for one seat, mister. The one next to the lady doesn’t belong to you.”
“Oh, very well. Excuse me, ma’am.” The watery eyes closed and he tipped the derby back over his face. Caroline sent Hawk a grateful look.
“You all right?” he mouthed.
The ghost of a smile curved her lips and she nodded. Hawk tipped his head toward the stranger and lifted his eyebrows in a question. Again she smiled, and this time it touched her eyes.
He sucked in air as his stomach rolled over, then latched the door and rejoined Jingo on the driver’s bench.
“Them ladies all right?”
He grunted.
“Relax, Hawk. We got some hard hours on the road ahead of us.”
“You just drive this contraption, Jingo.” He wouldn’t relax until they reached Oakridge. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Gambling Man inside the coach, whether he was really on the up-and-up or whether he flimflammed when he saw a badge.
Sweat began at the back of his neck. Another few hours of this and he’d draw his weapon on every male that came within twenty feet of her.
“Ya want me to sing somethin’?” Jingo quipped. “The horses like it when I sing.”
Hawk rolled his eyes.
Jingo warbled in an off-tune tenor voice all the way to the stage station. By the time they pulled up at the small two-room shack, Hawk’s patience was wearing thinner than the film on a stagnant frog pond.
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