she’d run away to marry a soldier out west. From the Thomas staff, the detective learned Elizabeth Thomas had been a spoiled girl with no regard for her parents and a wild streak they couldn’t begin to control. After a particularly rude incident in public, her father had told her to either act like a lady or leave. She’d chosen to leave. And she’d never returned.
Dalton chuckled. He could picture the young Rosalyn standing up to her father just like she stood up to the guests of the Palace, unafraid, undaunted and capable of taking on any foe.
“Your hand that good or that bad?” The man dealing the cards at his table scowled at Dalton. “Want any?”
He stared down at the hand, realizing he had a full house. “No, I’ll hold.”
Being alone at the age of sixteen had to have been a rude awakening. With no skills, no husband and no money, she’d left home to find her way in a world where lone women were taken advantage of.
The game continued, the other three players discarding and gathering new cards. Gold coins were tossed into the center of the table.
Dalton went through the motions, winning the hand by pure luck, when he could barely concentrate on what was going on in the room, much less what he held in his hand.
What was the use? Pierre wasn’t showing up and Dalton wasn’t getting any closer to clearing his name so he could get on with his plan to marry the beautiful Rosalyn and take her away to Texas where they could both start over.
Why he didn’t just grab her up and take her away now, he didn’t know. All his adult days he’d spent on the edge of the law as a gambler. He didn’t want the death of a couple soldiers to follow him around the rest of his days. Not when he’d have a wife and children looking to him to provide for them and to set the example of a fine, upstanding gentleman.
No, he wanted to start out on the right foot. Finding the killer and returning the gold was the only way he could clear his name. Until then, he had no business even thinking about Rosalyn, Texas or kids he hadn’t yet sired.
The Memphis businessman left the poker table, claiming he had to get home for dinner. Probably with a stop on the way at the Rose Palace.
Dalton scooted his chair back with every intention of returning to the room where Rosalyn lay naked, sleeping.
A man stepped up to the table. “Mind if I join you?” He spoke perfect English with a hint of a French accent.
When Dalton looked up, he instantly pushed the image of Rosalyn’s naked body to the very back of his mind and focused on the newcomer, Pierre Saulnier.
A slight nod across the room to where James sat confirmed to his friend their man had arrived. Now all they had to do was push him to reveal anything he might know about the dead soldiers.
Dalton settled in to what he did best, playing poker. The first few hands he deliberately threw, offering paper currency each time. He waited until he had a sure thing for a hand to play his trump card.
Saulnier tossed some of the money he’d won from Dalton into the center of the table. “You out?”
“No. I got more gold—a whole bag, should I need it.” Dalton dug into his pockets for the gold coins he’d pulled from the bag of stolen gold he’d recovered from beneath a board on the Marie-Dearie. He tossed one of the coins into the center of the table and waited for Saulnier’s reaction, watching him from the corner of his eye.
Saulnier’s gaze pinned Dalton, his eyes narrowing. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
Dalton shrugged, tossed a card onto the table and added another to his hand. “You meet a lot of different people if you play enough cards.”
Saulnier continued to stare for a moment then returned his gaze to his hand.
A steward wearing a freshly starched jacket, his hair slicked back from his face, handed Saulnier a folded paper and left. Saulnier broke the wax seal, opened, read the missive and frowned. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and lifted his
Dalton chuckled. He could picture the young Rosalyn standing up to her father just like she stood up to the guests of the Palace, unafraid, undaunted and capable of taking on any foe.
“Your hand that good or that bad?” The man dealing the cards at his table scowled at Dalton. “Want any?”
He stared down at the hand, realizing he had a full house. “No, I’ll hold.”
Being alone at the age of sixteen had to have been a rude awakening. With no skills, no husband and no money, she’d left home to find her way in a world where lone women were taken advantage of.
The game continued, the other three players discarding and gathering new cards. Gold coins were tossed into the center of the table.
Dalton went through the motions, winning the hand by pure luck, when he could barely concentrate on what was going on in the room, much less what he held in his hand.
What was the use? Pierre wasn’t showing up and Dalton wasn’t getting any closer to clearing his name so he could get on with his plan to marry the beautiful Rosalyn and take her away to Texas where they could both start over.
Why he didn’t just grab her up and take her away now, he didn’t know. All his adult days he’d spent on the edge of the law as a gambler. He didn’t want the death of a couple soldiers to follow him around the rest of his days. Not when he’d have a wife and children looking to him to provide for them and to set the example of a fine, upstanding gentleman.
No, he wanted to start out on the right foot. Finding the killer and returning the gold was the only way he could clear his name. Until then, he had no business even thinking about Rosalyn, Texas or kids he hadn’t yet sired.
The Memphis businessman left the poker table, claiming he had to get home for dinner. Probably with a stop on the way at the Rose Palace.
Dalton scooted his chair back with every intention of returning to the room where Rosalyn lay naked, sleeping.
A man stepped up to the table. “Mind if I join you?” He spoke perfect English with a hint of a French accent.
When Dalton looked up, he instantly pushed the image of Rosalyn’s naked body to the very back of his mind and focused on the newcomer, Pierre Saulnier.
A slight nod across the room to where James sat confirmed to his friend their man had arrived. Now all they had to do was push him to reveal anything he might know about the dead soldiers.
Dalton settled in to what he did best, playing poker. The first few hands he deliberately threw, offering paper currency each time. He waited until he had a sure thing for a hand to play his trump card.
Saulnier tossed some of the money he’d won from Dalton into the center of the table. “You out?”
“No. I got more gold—a whole bag, should I need it.” Dalton dug into his pockets for the gold coins he’d pulled from the bag of stolen gold he’d recovered from beneath a board on the Marie-Dearie. He tossed one of the coins into the center of the table and waited for Saulnier’s reaction, watching him from the corner of his eye.
Saulnier’s gaze pinned Dalton, his eyes narrowing. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
Dalton shrugged, tossed a card onto the table and added another to his hand. “You meet a lot of different people if you play enough cards.”
Saulnier continued to stare for a moment then returned his gaze to his hand.
A steward wearing a freshly starched jacket, his hair slicked back from his face, handed Saulnier a folded paper and left. Saulnier broke the wax seal, opened, read the missive and frowned. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and lifted his
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