Gambler's Magic Page 9

  “You’re welcome.” She nodded. Her nod was stiff, too.

  All right, they’d cleared that hurdle. What now? Elijah went back to his original question. “What verses are you reading?”

  Joy looked down at her book. Elijah sharpened his gaze. Was she blushing? Or was it the bright sunlight making something reflect on her cheeks.

  No, by damn! She was blushing. What in the name of holy hell was she blushing for?

  She cleared her throat. “Actually, Mr. Perry, I felt the need to read the seventh Psalm today.”

  He gave her a small grin. “‘O Lord my God, in thee do I put my trust: save me from all them that persecute me, and deliver me.’ I don’t mean to persecute you, Miss Hardesty.”

  Again she cleared her throat. “Of course not, Mr. Perry.” Her gaze sharpened. “I must admit to a certain surprise that you know so much of the Bible.”

  His grin widened. “Fooled you, didn’t I?”

  She evidently didn’t know what to make of him—whether to take the bait and snap back or humble herself and beg enlightenment. In the event, she did neither, but cleared her throat yet a third time. She was nervous about something, and Elijah wondered what. He didn’t ask for fear a direct question would shut her up.

  After a small space of silence she spoke again. “Actually, the truth is that after I’d read the seventh Psalm, I decided to pick up your novel.”

  Elijah’s eyes popped open. “No! You don’t say! Has it corrupted you yet?”

  Her eyes squinted and her lips wrinkled, and Elijah wished he’d kept his facetious comment to himself.

  She surprised him again by being almost witty. “It hasn’t had time to corrupt me yet I fear. I’d only just begun to read it when you awoke.”

  Elijah watched her blush fade and decided she might be a genuinely fetching article if she hadn’t been spoiled by her upbringing. He discovered himself curious about her, which was surprising all by itself, since he hadn’t been interested enough in anything to be curious about it in more years than he cared to contemplate.

  In his mind he tested various things to say to her before he spoke. He missed reading. Before heading out here to the territory, reading was about the only thing in the world that had been able to occupy his mind. Everything else had paled into boredom long since, but Elijah still found escape in books. He knew Joy had been correct when she’d told him he was too weak to hold that book in his hands, yet he wasn’t sure he wanted to be read to like a little kid.

  On the other hand, it would be a new experience to have a woman who might as well be one of the nuns he’d grown up with read a novel to him. The idea amused him. Little Sister Joy, reading to a black-hearted, scoundrelly gambling man, from a wicked work of fiction—detective fiction, what’s more. “Miss Hardesty, if I let you read a Bible chapter to me, will you read a couple of chapters of The Moonstone? We can see if the Bible betters my evil ways before the novel decays your good ones.”

  She squinted at him, and Elijah got the distinct impression she was trying not to smile. Good Lord, could it be that Miss Joy, Afraid-of-Fading-Carpets, Hardesty had a sense of humor under all that whalebone and religion? The tiny spark of curiosity that had ignited in him earlier fanned higher.

  “Well? What about it?”

  “I do believe it is you who are trying to taint me, Mr. Perry, by proposing an underhanded wager to see which device can corrupt whom first.”

  Elijah was delighted. “By God, you’re right! I didn’t even see it that way until you mentioned it. You’re a smart girl, Miss Hardesty. You might have been a good poker player if you’d ever taken it up, you know that?”

  Evidently she didn’t appreciate his levity in this instance. She tensed like a fiddle string. Before she could run out on him, Elijah said, “I didn’t mean it, ma’am. Of course you wouldn’t be a good poker player.”

  She relaxed slightly. “I should say not. However, I have a lot of work to do. I shouldn’t be wasting my time reading novels.”

  “You said you would.” Elijah frowned when he heard how whiny he sounded.

  “And I shall honor my word. But I can’t leave everything for the sake of entertainment.”

  “You were reading when I woke up,” he reminded her.

  “I had been reading the Bible, Mr. Perry. That’s different.”

  “But you’d started the novel.”

  She sniffed. He’d gotten to her with that one; he could tell. “I felt it my duty to remain by your bedside, actually, since I know how drained you were after your shave—and after most injudiciously attempting to rise from your sick bed.”

  “Well, there. You can look at reading to me out of that book as part of my recovery, ma’am. I’d take it as a kindness.” He considered offering to pay her to read to him, and decided against it, figuring he’d get farther by playing on her sense of duty—or martyrdom—than he ever would with cash.

  He sucked in a breath and held it while Joy considered. After a moment, she said, “Oh, very well,” in a voice that spoke eloquently of how put-upon she felt.

  “You can read me two chapters out of the Bible first if it’ll make you feel any better, ma’am.” Elijah thought his offer quite generous, considering he’d hoped never to be read to out of the Good Book again after the nuns got through with him.

  She inclined her head to one side. She looked regal when she did that, and Elijah’s amusement bubbled up again. Poor little Joy. He wondered why her parents, who had obviously ruined her, had decided to bestow such a frivolous name on her. An expert at patience, Elijah decided he’d ask one of these days, after he got to know her better.

  Joy selected her Bible verses carefully. Elijah would have bet she’d sought them out specifically for him, in order to get maximum use of the time allotted for the saving of his soul. He wondered if she’d bother if she knew he didn’t have one. The notion depressed him, and he tucked it away.

  Eventually she decided on John fourteen and fifteen.

  “‘Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.’“

  The language was beautiful and the words were soothing, even if Elijah didn’t believe any of them. He decided to concentrate on the language, since that was less troubling than the emptiness of his life. It might have been fun to live back in old King James’s time and use all that flowery language. On the other hand, the language would have been customary back then, and there would be none of the thrill of peculiarity that Elijah felt every time he heard it.

  He was almost sorry when Joy finished reading Chapter fifteen. “‘But that the world may know that I love the Father; and as the Father gave me commandment, even so I do. Arise, let us go hence.’“

  With a big sigh, Joy shut her Bible. She lifted her gaze, and Elijah smiled at her. She blushed charmingly.

  “Thank you, Miss Hardesty. That was nicely read.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Perry.”

  She picked up The Moonstone in both hands, as if lifting a very heavy boulder. She glanced at Elijah, who smiled his most devastating smile. She glanced away again quickly, drew in a huge breath—Elijah noted for the first time and with interest that she actually seemed to have a substantial bosom under all that whalebone—looked down at the book, opened it up, found the first page, and began to do her duty.

  “‘Prologue. The Storming of Seringapatam—”

  “Well done.”

  She looked up at him in question, her pretty brown eyes huge. Elijah felt a funny catching in his chest. It was probably from the bullet hole. “You pronounced that Indian word beautifully, Miss Hardesty. I’m impressed.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at the book, and Elijah was certain her cheeks had more color in them than they had a second prior. She cleared her throat. “Actually, I—I practiced—a little bit—while you were asleep, Mr. Perry.”

  “Ah. I see.” So she had been reading his nove
l, had she? And, from the blush in her cheeks, she’d been enjoying it, too. He felt better all at once. “Well, please go on. ‘Seringapatam.’“

  “Yes.” She gave him one last quick peek, and began again. ‘Prologue. The Storming of Seringapatam (1799), extracted from a family paper. One. I address these lines—written in India—to my relatives in England . . .’“

  With a happy sigh—the first he’d breathed in years—Elijah relaxed back against his pillows and commenced enjoying himself.

  # # #

  Alexander McMurdo sat on Cody and Melissa O’Fannin’s front porch swing, his feet propped up on the porch rail, two-and-a-half-year-old Katie O’Fannin in his lap, and smiled. The little girl was playing with an orange-and-white marmalade kitten, which tumbled with its brothers and sisters at their feet.

  “You like that kitty, Katie, m’lass?”

  “Like kee-kee.” The little girl giggled as the kitten batted at the yarn doodad she dangled for it.

  “D’ye suppose your ma and pa would let ye ride in to town wi’ me, Katie lass, so’s we can take one of these fine kittens to a lady and gentleman residin’ there?”

  “Town?” Katie said, her big eyes widening with pleasure.

  “Aye,” said Mac. “There’s somethin’ I have to attend to there.” He didn’t wonder at Katie’s excitement about a proposed trip to town. Out here on her step-daddy’s ranch, she pretty much lived in the middle of nowhere. Going to town was an enormous pleasure for anyone who resided in the emptiness of southeastern New Mexico Territory’s high plains.

  Mac was pleased by the way things were going back in his wagon yard. He figured adding a kitten to the mix of Elijah Perry and Joy Hardesty would only move them along faster.

  By Jupiter, he’d fix those two yet.

  Chapter Six

  “Thank heaven you’re back!”

  Forgetting dignity entirely in her elation at seeing Alexander McMurdo, Joy tore down the porch steps and raced out to the wagon yard gate. As little as two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have believed she’d be happy to renew her acquaintance with so unworthy a specimen of mankind—according to her mother’s wisdom, at any rate—as Alexander McMurdo. But she was ecstatic to see him now, her mother and her mother’s opinions be hanged.

  Her soaring heart took a nose dive when she saw that he had a small child with him. Oh dear. The child in his lap must mean he was only visiting. Unless he intended to thrust this child into her care, to tend along with Elijah Perry. She wouldn’t put it past him. Her pace slowed, and her smile had tipped upside down by the time she reached Mac’s horse.

  “Glad to see you, too, Joy, m’dear. This here’s Katie O’Fannin.” Mac lightly pinched the little girl’s cheek. “Say your howdy-do’s to Miss Hardesty, Katie sweet.”

  “Ho, Miss Tee,” Katie said obediently.

  She eyed Joy curiously with big, bright, brown eyes. Joy didn’t detect a hint of shyness in the girl. In spite of her wariness and mistrust, Joy couldn’t help but be charmed by her. Katie was a tiny thing, and she couldn’t be more than a couple of years old. It surprised Joy that she could say so many words. On the other hand, what else did a body have to do out here but talk?

  Something inside of her, a compulsion which she was unfamiliar, prompted Joy to don a beaming smile and hold out her hand to Katie. “Hello to you, too, Miss Katie. I’m very pleased to meet you.” She shook the child’s plump hand, and Katie giggled as if she’d been tickled. Joy’s heart, usually bound around with the iron manacles of her mother’s restrictive, exclusive philosophy, burst its bonds and expanded at least six sizes.

  She surprised herself again when she exclaimed, “Oh, what a perfect darling, Mr. McMurdo. May I hold her?”

  “Ye can lift her down off the horse, if you please, Miss Joy.”

  So Joy did as Mac had requested, and was amazed when the child gave her a big hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek. Joy had never experienced a spontaneous gesture of affection in her life that she could remember. Her father might have given her one or two when she was too young to know it and before her mother had terrorized them out of him. She hugged Katie back, and felt silly when tears prickled her eyes.

  “I’ve got something else here for ye, too, Joy.”

  On the alert again in an instant, Joy’s happiness in Katie transformed into suspicion. “You do?”

  “Aye. You take Katie on in the house, and I’ll fetch it in to ye.”

  Worried, Joy did as he asked. She couldn’t imagine why Mr. McMurdo would bring her anything. Not anything she’d want, anyway. After all, she hadn’t been particularly pleasant to him during their time together. Her mother’s training took the opportunity to remind her that, while Alexander McMurdo was a misguided evil-doer, and it was Joy’s duty to display, in word and deed, how much she deprecated him and his behavior, she must never do so in anything but the kindest, most condescending manner. It was a fine line, and Joy had always found it an extremely difficult one to negotiate.

  You look perfectly bilious, Joy Hardesty. It is a Christian’s duty to act pleasant when carrying out the Lord’s work. Smile! Show these sinners you’re above them!

  Yes, Mother.

  Somehow the old refrain didn’t sit as easily in Joy’s heart today as it had before Mac went away. She wondered if this was an indication that she was becoming corrupted by earthly influences. With a heavy sigh, she decided it most likely was, and was struck yet again by relief that her mother couldn’t see her now. That sentiment alone only went to prove how lost to goodness Joy had become.

  Why, she’d even become so enamored by that wicked novel of Mr. Perry’s that she’d initiated, on her own, two reading sessions per day, one in the morning and one in the evening. She always read Bible verses first, of course, but Joy knew—and she suspected Mr. Perry knew, too—she only did so to give herself an excuse for reading from the vicious work of fiction. It was a lowering thought.

  In spite of her troubled reflections, she carried Katie to Elijah Perry’s bedroom door intending, if he were awake, to shock him senseless with the introduction of an article of genuine purity. If he could withstand little Katie, the man was hardened beyond redemption.

  She peeked inside the room and discovered him sitting up. She was happy to see him thus, because it meant he’d managed it on his own and was getting stronger. Not, of course, that she had any personal interest in Elijah Perry. It was, however, cheering to know her nursing hadn’t damaged him. He still looked pale and exhausted, and Joy feared he wasn’t out of the woods yet, but every day she was more encouraged about his ultimate recovery.

  She refused to admit to herself that she’d begun to relish her encounters with him. In truth, although she wouldn’t say so, she found him refreshing; like water to a thirsty man.

  “Mr. Perry?”

  He turned and smiled at her before he noticed the child. Then his smile faded and his eyes widened. “Good Lord, I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

  Joy gasped, scandalized, and wondered how she ever could have considered the man as anything but a tool of the devil. Then she remembered the baby in her arms and knew she’d have to take Elijah Perry to task for his indelicacy later.

  “This,” she announced frostily, “is Miss Katie Elizabeth O’Fannin, daughter of Cody and Melissa O’Fannin, with whom Mr. McMurdo has been staying this past week and more.” It only occurred to her later to wonder where she’d come up with those names. They were correct, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember when Mr. McMurdo had told them to her. At the moment she was too put out with Elijah Perry to marvel at her own feat of intuition.

  She continued, pointedly ignoring Elijah’s wicked grin. “Miss Katie, this gentleman—and I use the word even while knowing I may be giving him more credit than he deserves—is Mr. Elijah Perry. Can you say good morning to Mr. Perry?”

  Katie was an adorable child. Her cheeks were pink and chubby, and her eyes gleamed with good humor and health. Her hair was apparently naturally curl
y, and curls flipped out from beneath her sunbonnet flaps, shiny and brown and as pretty as anything.

  Joy understood with a shock that she loved the little girl. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t known it was possible to love something or someone—wholly and unconditionally—before one even had a chance to judge his or her worthiness. Not, of course, that there could be anything coarse or impure about a mere baby. Still, the insight astonished her.

  “Mor’, Mippee,” chirped the ever-cooperative Katie.

  Joy laughed and hugged her. She paused to consider how out of character her impulsive gesture had been when she saw Elijah Perry gaping at her, goggle-eyed. Knowing how little she was given to spontaneous behaviors struck Joy as sad suddenly, and she wondered why it should do so. It never had before. Any tendency toward spontaneity had been driven out of her years before by her mother’s disapproving, fish-eyed glare. She decided to ponder this later, along with all the other things she’d tucked aside to think about.

  Elijah recovered from his start, and smiled at the little girl. “Good morning back to you, Miss Katie. You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

  Katie giggled again and nodded, and it was Joy’s turn to gape. “Why, Mr. Perry, you sound almost as though you might like children. I’m perfectly astounded.”

  “No more astounded than I am that you should like them, Miss Hardesty, believe me.” His voice was tart as a lemon. “I’ve always liked kids.”

  Although Joy experienced an almost ungovernable urge to argue with him about who should be nonplused by whose affinity for children, she didn’t, for the sake of Katie O’Fannin, who was obviously unused to people squabbling in front of her. Even the few sharp words Joy and Elijah had just exchanged seemed to bother her. Her sweet little lips lost their smile, her big brown eyes thinned, and she murmured, “Say happy tings.”

  Joy thought that was the most precious thing in the world and hugged her again.

  “All right, darling, we’ll say happy things from now on.” She shot Elijah a speaking glance. “Won’t we, Mr. Perry?”