The only weak point on the body of the Greek hero Achilles was the back of his heel. —Galen’s Anatomy

Chapter 22

The sun was setting over the hills as the five members of Jenny’s band strode into town. Sullen waves of warmth rolled down from the rocks. Shutters slammed fearfully in the gusts, and puddles in the street grew a thick skin of dirt. A dog barked twice.

Thanks to the dying of the easterly, and a surge of unexpected hot weather in the low-lying valley, the Last Chance Saloon was having a good Saturday night. A circle of lamplight formed a welcome mat under the swinging doors. The sound of pool balls striking, the clink of glasses, and the roar of men’s laughter rose and fell with the wind. Tobacco smoke whirled in eddies before scattering like skittles.

It was Jenny who led the way, with the others flanking her sides. Straight as a bullet they shot, piercing the doors of the saloon with an almighty bang!

The bartender froze. The talking died. The balls on the pool table went careening around the green of their own accord.

“King Louis!” yelled Jenny. “I’m calling you out!”

A pudgy gambler at the card table snickered.

“You say something, Dean Griggs?” demanded Jenny.

“What in the darn fool is all this . . . ?” said Louis, barging through the door at the rear of the room. He halted when he saw the cast of characters ranged in front of him. “Jenny Burns.”

“You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you, Louis.”

Louis flashed a canine. A ray of pure bright ricocheted off the white of his lapel and partly blinded the bartender.

“Are you referring to the object you were seeking at Gentle Annie’s?”

“You’re darn right I am,” barked Jenny.

“Well, now,” said King Louis. “That’s very interesting.”

Jenny frowned. There was something off about the whole business. Louis didn’t look like a man who was guarding a gold nugget. He looked like a man who had spiked the mug of his best friend’s beer with salt.

“Take me to see it,” demanded Jenny.

“And why should I?” asked Louis, the words oozing with warm treacle.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell every mean and hungry man who comes into town what you’re sitting on,” said Jenny, leaning forward with a smile. “You may be the king around here, Louis, but I reckon I can find plenty of twitchy gamblers who aren’t—how did you put it?—‘bosom companions with the law.’”

King Louis nodded. “Touché, Miss Burns.”

The air was so ripe with intrigue that you could smell the sweat on the palms of a man’s hands. Jenny held her breath—would Louis be willing to compromise on the nugget in order to protect his hide? If she could just get into the back room and see it!

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said finally. “I’ll play you for the privilege.”

“What?” asked Jenny.

“One hand of poker. You win—I give you what’s in the back room. I win—you’re on your own in this saloon.”

“And why would I agree to that?” demanded Jenny, puzzled by Louis’s daring offer. She wasn’t expecting him to give up the nugget so easily. “It’s only a fifty-fifty chance.”

“Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” Louis smiled, tilting his head toward the tables. “But you’re not the one holding the cards.”

Alerted by a second snicker, Jenny suddenly became aware of the hostile faces encircling her posse. Whatever else he lacked, Louis still had the loyalty of his barflies. Without their ken or approval, Jenny’s mates had somehow been herded into the middle of the saloon. It was the same trick knackers used to lead horses to the slaughter.

“Okay,” said Jenny slowly. “One hand.”

“You’d better keep those Lums away from the table,” shouted a bloke with a voice like cold porridge. “Ain’t no room for Chinese boys.”

Jenny swung around to pound him. Pandora stepped in before her best friend could complete the turn.

“We’ll be dead if you fight him now.”

Louis laughed. “She’s right there, Miss Burns. Anyway, you simply need to win a card game.”

Jenny looked to Kam. The silver had appeared in his eyes. He nodded.

“Fine,” said Jenny. “Deal.”

The true art of poker lies in the reading of a man. Good cards are a blessing, but the trick is in the watch. Most players give themselves away within the first minute of a game. They tug on their hair, or gnaw on their gum, or tap their foot three times on the floor. I’ve known gamblers who could spot a bluff by watching a pupil widen. King Louis had been a long time at this sport, and he wasn’t about to lose.

So it’s probably a good thing Jenny didn’t know what she was up against when she collected her cards.

She had the king of diamonds, two black eights, the five of clubs, and the two of hearts. Not much to play with beyond the eights, though the king was a boon.

“Make a bet, Miss Burns. It will feel more suspenseful for our audience.”

“I don’t have any money,” countered Jenny.

“Here,” said Louis, setting ten silver dollars on their ends and flicking them toward her. “This is what your dad gave me to pay the debt on his drinks. Knock yourself out.”

Cool as a winter cucumber, Jenny snagged each of the coins in turn and laid them down in front of her. Then she pushed the last one to the middle.

“That’s my bet.”

“I call,” said Louis.

“Hey, Hiram, remember when Lottie Quinn did her dance of the seven veils in here? Phewwheee!”

Jenny dug her nails into the wood. She knew why Roger Boone was insulting Pandora’s mother. The drinkers were spoiling for a fight as much as she was. And there wouldn’t be one unless she became distracted and lost.

“I want three,” said Jenny, putting the king, the five, and the two of hearts facedown on the table. “From the top of the deck, Louis.”

“For. The. Lady,” said a smiling Louis, laying down each of the new cards in a slow and studied motion. “And I’ll take one.”

In the lore of poker, one card meant Louis probably had two pair or better. Jenny scrutinized the lines in his face with the care of a surveyor. His countenance was amused and becalmed. As usual.

“Hey, Chewy,” slurred one of the gamblers, “who you think they’re gonna hire for the new schoolmaster?”

“Dunno,” said Chewy, picking at the wart on his neck. “But I hope he’ll be better than the last one. That man couldn’t drive a nail in butter.”

“I think I met him once on the Longshank,” shouted his companion. “Uglier than a new-shorn lamb.”

“And studying to be the village dolt.”

Mr. Grimsby sniffed. Lok scowled.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said Louis. “The game is not yet finished.”

“He means he wants you to shut up,” Pandora instructed Chewy. Jenny grinned. Hiram made a feint to his left and Kam neatly cut him off.

“You haven’t looked at your cards, Miss Burns,” said Louis. “Care to make a bet before you do?”

Jenny gave him a look. With the cards Louis was likely to be holding, she had a thousand-to-one chance of besting him. Her dad would be terrified at losing his money, and the men around her were breathing hate. But she was feeling full of vim and vinegar, and when Jenny Burns is feeling full of vinegar, you’d be wise to step aside.

“Sure,” said Jenny, chucking two more coins in the middle.

“I’ll see your two,” said Louis, “and I’ll raise you two.”

Six dollars in total on the table. Louis must have a hand full of royalty.

“Why not?” asked Jenny, chucking two more coins in the pot.

The gamblers in the room were getting antsy now. They weren’t used to this kind of fearless betting.

“Hey, girl, aren’t you gonna look at your cards?”

“Her name is Jenny,” said Kam.

“Oh, look, boys, the Oriental can talk. But he’s happy to let a girl do his fighting for him.”

The words pierced Jenny to the core. To talk of Kam’s heritage like that, to imply the boy who’d saved her life was a coward, was more than her gut could bear. She wanted to stuff the slur down the speaker’s throat.

Kam must have been feeling the same way, because he clenched his fist around a glass and raised it in the air. Jenny’s chair let out a fearful screech as she pushed it back. Hiram grabbed hold of his pool cue with two hands. Lok picked up a ball. Chewy and his mate moved to block the door.

“Sit down, everyone!” commanded Louis, a cloud of chalk dust crowning his immaculate curls. “You too, Miss Burns. We will finish this game.”

Jenny could feel the fire churning in her stomach, but she was strong enough to keep it from rising to her throat. She picked up her new cards. Two black aces and the jack of diamonds. Two pair and a jack. Maybe, just maybe, enough to win.

“Well, Miss Burns?” asked Louis.

Jenny thought of her mother’s cross on the hill, Kam’s father’s tablet in the hut, and Mrs. Quinn, sick in bed. She took her remaining silver dollars and hurled them on the pile.

“All in.”

Louis smiled his regal smile. “I admire your boldness, Miss Burns. All right then.” He threw his money on top of hers. “Let’s see what you got.”

“Two pair,” said Jenny, chucking her cards in wild abandon and clenching her fists.

“Possible straight flush,” said Louis, laying down the ace, two, three, and four of diamonds.

“Possible?” asked Jenny, her color deepening. “You mean?”

“I took a chance,” said Louis, laying down the six of diamonds. “And I lost.”

Jenny inhaled. A strong noose of beer breath and muscle tightened around her.

“Stop!” said King Louis, raising his hand. “A deal is a deal. The lady and her posse get ten silver dollars and anything that’s in my back room.” He smoothed a kink in his cravat. “The thing is, Miss Burns”—Louis grinned—“I don’t know if you’re going to be pleased with what you find in my wee metal safe. That was what you were after, wasn’t it?”

Jenny had lost the order of her words.

“You see,” said King Louis, “I’ve looked in that money box many a time in the past decade, and there’s absolutely nothing in it. I’d be the king’s own fool if I kept valuables around in this kind of company.”

Hiram snorted.

“If you don’t believe me,” added Louis, “anyone in the room is welcome to inspect it.”

“You are such a liar!” blurted Pandora.

“Yes, I am,” admitted Louis. “But not about this.”

“Why?” croaked Jenny.

“You mean why did I tease you along tonight about having the nugget?” asked Louis. “Oh, maybe because I favor your grit. Despite your dubious choice of company, I reckon you’ll grow into me soon enough.”

After the events of the week, and the words of the drunks, this was the last sentence on earth that Jenny was willing to tolerate. King Louis was wrong. She wasn’t his pet or his toy or the heir to his creed. She was the daughter of Hapless Burns, and she was finally ready to stand up and be counted.

“Well, nuts to you, Louis.” Jenny rose to her feet. “Because I’m nothing like your kind. I have a mother from the islands and a father from the prairies and a life in the mountains.”

“I’m not eyeless, Jenny Burns,” said Louis. “Anyone can see where your mother was from. Sure, I like you well enough, but you’ll never really belong here.”

That did it. Twelve years of avoiding the truth of her feelings ended with a holler. Jenny ripped open her chest and let all her rage and regret and punishment and passion erupt. She jumped on her chair, lunged over the table, and whacked King Louis square in the jaw.

The Last Chance Saloon erupted in chaos. Cues were shattered. Private parts were twisted. Chairs went hurtling toward the ceiling. I’ve been in one or two bar fights myself, and it doesn’t matter who’s knocking whom in this kind of situation. It’s pleasure enough to be caught in the middle.

“Yeaaaooowww!” cried Chewy as his hair was yanked through the banister.

“Withers and wit!” yelled Jenny as she vaulted onto the back of Dean Griggs.

“Duck!” shrieked Pandora as a bottle of gin went cartwheeling over Kam’s head and smashed into the mirror behind the bar. The reflections of thirty bloodthirsty men shattered into a hundred pieces.

You may be wondering how Mr. Grimsby was faring in this skirmish. After all, he was neither a noble nor a hardy man. When Jenny had a chance to raise her head above the fray, she thought she saw him cowering under the pool table. But it was hard to tell which bottom was whose.

“Jenny Burns!” came the shout of King Louis, locked in the arms of a digger named Olaf Turpin. “What have you done to my saloon?”

“It’s a new world, Louis,” bellowed Jenny. “You’d better get used to it!”

“Jenny!” yelped Pandora.

Jenny scrambled onto the bar for a better view. From there, she spied her friend in the grip of a burly bloke near the door. He was slowly twisting Pandora’s arm into a spiral while she kicked at the air in agony.

“Hell and high water!” screeched Jenny, flying out over the crowd. Her left foot came down on Hiram’s clavicle and her right foot on Dean’s hat. Skipping from man to man, she charged across the room in six seconds flat.

“Lord almighty . . . ,” began Pandora’s torturer as he saw the great bird of fury diving toward him. The rest of his thoughts were splattered as Jenny pinned him to the floor.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” moaned Pandora, rolling on the ground.

“It’s okay,” panted Jenny, wiping the blood from her streaming nose, “I got him licked.”

“I don’t care about that,” said Pandora, scrambling about the floor on all fours. “My boot came off. I’ve lost it. I’ve lost my boot!”

“So what?” shouted Jenny, crouching to avoid a careless backswing. Pandora sure knew how to pick her moments.

“The map was in that boot!”

“I don’t think it matters right now. Owww!” cried Jenny as the man beneath her pinched her ankle. She shackled his wrist. “Lay off it, you lumbering lug.”

“But it was very important!” wept Pandora, ignoring the splinters of wood exploding around her. “I wanted to read it again!” She threw her arms around herself and moaned. “Lemonade and cherry pie and zebras. What else could go wrong?”

You ever find that the universe likes to lay it on thick? Pandora was finishing up the last of her question when the doors of the saloon swung open and Hapless appeared in the lamplight.

“Jenny? Where in the world have you—” He caught sight of Pandora rocking in the corner and rubbed his nose. “Oh, so you’ve heard.”

Pandora dropped her arms. That remark had been directed toward her.

“What?” asked Pandora.

“I’m very, very sorry. But your mum is dead.”