When Mason got back to his cabin, he was so light-headed that he thought he might have dreamed his entire conversation with Greeley. He put the odds of that happening at less than twenty percent, which was being generous. The notion that so much bad news hadn’t been dropped onto him at once was simply too appealing to turn away. But a man in his line of work didn’t get anywhere but the poorhouse by betting everything on a long shot simply because he wanted it to win. There had to be other factors to swing a bet in that direction, and there were none to swing this one.
He was in the muck up to his eyes and there wasn’t any good way to get out of it. Not yet anyway.
“Damn it,” he sighed when he saw the small box sitting next to his washbasin.
Reluctantly Mason went over to the box. It was about a quarter the size of the washbasin itself and wasn’t sealed. Using one finger to move one of the top flaps aside, he looked in to see several rounds of.44-caliber ammunition and approximately twenty dollars in cash. The money was wrapped in a piece of paper that read: For the job and expenses—G.
As was the case most of the time, the long shot proved to be a loser. The conversation had happened. The muck was just as deep as it had ever been.
His cabin’s door creaked slightly as it was opened by someone from the hallway. Mason pivoted toward it while making a grab for his Remington.
“It’s just me,” Maggie said as she stopped half in and half out of the cabin. “Can I come in?”
Mason took his hand away from the sawed-off pistol tucked under his belt. “Sure. Why not?”
She stepped into the room, shut the door behind her, and stood with her back pressed against it. Reluctant to take another step toward him, she said, “I take it this conversation with Greeley went as well as the last one.”
Looking down, Mason saw that his jacket had snagged on the shoulder holster. Both Remingtons were exposed, so he straightened his jacket to cover them once again. “You should leave.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got to go somewhere and you shouldn’t . . . you can’t go with me.”
Maggie approached him and reached out to place one hand on his chest. She already knew where to touch him, so it didn’t hurt as she asked, “What did Greeley tell you?”
“We set up an arrangement,” he said. “To settle that debt of mine.”
“This can’t just be about a debt.”
“Why not?”
Her brow furrowed with concern. “Because this isn’t the first big debt that someone’s owed Greeley. Lord knows he wouldn’t make this big a fuss every time it happened.”
“Well, he’s making a fuss now and I’m in the middle of it,” Mason snapped. “If it’s the first time or last time really doesn’t matter, now, does it?”
“It does,” she replied. “It matters a lot.” Maggie’s features softened, but only for a moment before they regained the subtle edge that was as much a part of her as the nose on her face. “Any other time and Greeley would have dumped you over the side, dragged you alongside this boat, or tossed you into the paddlewheel.”
“You know about all that, do you?”
“Of course I do. There’s a lot of talk around here about those sorts of things. How have you not heard it?”
Mason chuckled. It was more of a way to let off some steam instead of expressing anything he found even slightly humorous. “I guess I have heard it. When I’m at the table, I’m usually thinking of other matters.”
“Well, instead of trying to figure every angle before it happens, you should take more time to soak up the world around you.” When she saw the surprise on his face, Maggie added, “I’ve figured out a lot about you while we were sitting at that card game. I could see the wheels turning behind those pretty eyes of yours then, just like I can see them now.”
Grinning, Mason said, “If I’m that easy to read, it’s no wonder I’m in so much debt.”
“You’re not easy to read,” she assured him. “I suppose I was just paying closer attention to you than most.”
“Should I be flattered by that?”
Maggie leaned even closer to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lower lip. “Yes,” she whispered.
Mason couldn’t have stopped his hands from encircling her waist if he’d wanted to. Fortunately he didn’t want to. “You’ve been a surprise, Maggie. A good one. What happened at that game was a surprise as well.”
“Which, I’m guessing, wasn’t a very good one.”
“Not even close.”
“It happens to all of us,” she said. “You get a read on someone, you think you have a hand completely figured out, and then the hammer drops. Sometimes it’s because something was fixed in the game, and sometimes you’re just . . . wrong.”
Mason shook his head. “I’ve thought about that hand plenty. Part of me hasn’t stopped thinking about it.”
“Yet another thing that makes you similar to every other gambler in the world. Most of the hands we win get chalked up to a day’s work and forgotten. The couple we lose stick with us. We remember every little thing.” Straightening his tie, she added, “Isn’t that why we all drink so much whiskey?”
“Greeley wasn’t cheating,” he said. “If he was cheating, he’s better and smoother at it than me or anyone else I’ve ever known. No. He played that hand straight.”
“You mean he outplayed you.” When Mason looked at her with a pained wince, she rubbed his cheek and said, “You were wrong. That’s the possibility that hurts the most. Believe me. I know. It’s so much easier to know you were cheated. You might feel stupid for being tricked or falling for a lie, but at least there’s someone else to blame. When you’re wrong . . . it’s just you.”
“How long have you been on the circuit?” Mason asked.
Without needing to think about it, she replied, “Six years.”
“Ever been cheated?”
“The only players who don’t cheat a little bit at some point or another are the ones who line the pockets of people like us. To answer your question, though, yes. I’ve been cheated. It stung like hell, but I got over it.”
Mason took more comfort from just standing there holding Maggie in his arms than from all the whiskey that had ever been distilled. “Ever been wrong?” he asked.
She didn’t bat an eye before saying, “Of course not. Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?”
Mason was stunned for a second, but quickly started to laugh. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. Eventually he wound up on the bed with her. He and Maggie didn’t lie down or even embrace. He simply had to get off his feet and she sat beside him with one hand resting on his knee.
“Any chance you know a quick way to get to Europe without anyone knowing about it?” he asked.
“I’ve got a few good routes to Mexico or Canada.”
Mason shook his head. “I’ll need to get farther than that.”
“To avoid Greeley? He barely ever leaves this boat. Just put a few days’ ride between you and the Mississippi River and you should be fine.”
“He’s committed himself to this even more than I have. If he lets me get away, it makes him look bad. A man like him can’t afford to look bad.”
“Who gives a damn what he wants or likes?” she asked.
“He’s got deep pockets,” Mason said. “And there’s always plenty of men out there who’ll do dirty work for someone like that. Besides, I’ve never been the sort of man who runs. Even if it’s good for him.”
Maggie rubbed his leg and placed her other hand on his cheek. Drawing him in with the slightest of movements, she kissed him gently and said, “I’m liking you more and more.”
“Too bad. I may not be around for much longer.” Mason gave her a kiss and stood up. He picked up the box that had been left for him and set it in his carpetbag.
“What is it that Greeley wants from you anyway?”
“He wants me to kill a man.”
“But you’re no killer.”
Gathering up the few personal things he had lying about, Mason put them in the bag and said, “That’s what I told him. He wants me to do it to work off what I owe.”
“So you’re to become one of those men doing dirty work for a man with deep pockets?”
Mason stopped what he was doing so he could think for a moment and then let out a tired laugh. “I suppose so. Irony is a cruel, twisted thing.”
“There’s no need to go along with it, you know.”
“How would you suggest I avoid it?”
“Simple,” she said. “Don’t go along with it.”
“It’s not that easy.”
When Mason started to turn away so he could finish packing his bag, Maggie stopped him. She placed her lips so close to his ear that he could feel the heat from her breath as she said, “People like us know that the best plans are often pretty simple. Getting away with them is the tricky part.”
“Yeah, especially when my life’s on the line.”
She shrugged. “Killing this man won’t be easy, I take it.”
“Not hardly.”
“Could you get shot while doing this job?”
“If the man I’m after is overly fond of breathing, he may fight to keep doing it,” Mason said.
“Then your life is on the line whether you go along with this or not, right?”
“Pretty much.”
“What’s the worst Greeley can do to you? Get you killed twice instead of just once? Seems to me a man of your talents should be able to read this angle if you’d just take a moment to think it over. And for a man who bogs himself down with so much thinking,” she added, “I’d say that’s fairly ironic.”