“Why not? What difference does it make how you get it?”
He bristled with indignation at the insult. Did she think he had no pride at all? “It makes a hell of a lot of difference. I earn my own way. I always have. What do you take me for? Some kind of gigolo? ”
“No! A gigolo gives sexual favors for money, and — ”
“And I’d give those to you for free,” he finished for her with a tight smile. “So, it must be that I’m just a low-class, ignorant, ethicless, Mexican greaser out for a quick buck.”
“Oh, get off it, Rafe. It has nothing to do with your nationality.”
He sliced her a look of disbelief. “I’m staying here till I earn enough gold to go back to the future a rich man. Frankly, I’ve lost my appetite for making love with you. So, do whatever the hell you want.” Rafe stomped away.
“Where are you going?” Helen asked as she caught up with him.
“To a gambling hall.”
That drew her up short. “Should we be mingling in public? People might still think you’re the Angel Bandit.”
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
“I suppose you want to gamble so you can make enough money for gold-digging supplies.”
“Yeah, but in case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, we don’t have enough money even for a place to sleep. Only the twenty dollars in gold dust that Big John gave me. And look at the sign on the City Hotel. Five dollars a night, not including bath and breakfast. Per person.”
She gave him a considering appraisal. “Are you any good at gambling?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
She shook her head with exasperation at his inflated ego. “Do you cheat?”
He flinched. “I can’t believe even you would say something so offensive.”
“Lord, you’re right.” Ducking her head in shame, she apologized.
“Are you with me on the gambling, or not?”
She studied him for a really long time, during which he held his breath. “For now,” she said finally.
He exhaled slowly with relief. “You won’t regret it, Helen.” He patted her hand reassuringly.
She slapped his hand away. “I already regret it. And, believe me, I’m going to make you regret forcing me into this position. You’ll wish you’d never met me.”
He doubted that very much.
Sacramento City pulsed with life. And if gambling was its heartbeat, then gold surely was its pumping blood.
The first gambling “casino” they entered was a huge round tent. Numerous lanterns hung from the ceilings, casting an eerie glow. The small string orchestra that played to one side could hardly be heard over the raucous noise of shouting miners crowded around at least fifteen tables. Frazzled waiters darted between the tables serving drinks to grubby prospectors betting their hard-earned fortunes on games of chance, like lansquenet, monte, faro, poker, or roulette. More gold and silver than she’d ever seen in her life lay in piles on the tables.
“C’mon. C’mon. Who’ll buck the tiger?” she heard more than one banker call out.
Still others cajoled, “Jack and deuce. Make your bets, gentlemen. All down? All down?”
Or, “One hundred against the house. Who’ll be a winner tonight?”
At the bar, cut-glass bowls were filled with peppermints, lemon drops, and the blasted cigars, and bartenders with wide thumbs took pinches of gold dust from the customers in exchange for what appeared to be whiskey, wine, ale, and liquors.
The babble of voices, slap of cards, jubilant shouts and doleful groans, music, clinking of glasses and bottles, all provided a backdrop to the smells. And they were overwhelming. Body odor, perfume, whiskey, cigarettes, stale liquor, and Chinese punk, which lay smoldering in miniature jars for the convenience of those needing to light up.
“Oh, boy!” Rafe exclaimed.
“What?” she said, then gasped as she noticed the direction of his gaze.
The circular canvas walls were covered with paintings, no doubt completed by some down-and-out artist turned prospector. The murals all depicted women. Nude women in erotic poses.
“Great! The Playboy Club of the old West!”
Rafe laughed.
“Maybe you can pick up a bunny later,” she proposed sarcastically. Only a few women, clearly prostitutes in sleazy, low-cut gowns, were there. Some dealt cards at the gambling tables; others acted as “come-on” girls or lures for the bar; still others worked the crowd for their own personal gain.