With that he turns, the conversation apparently closed. I goafter him before I can stop myself, though draw up short when he heads for one of the only empty seats at the bar instead of for the door. Without question, it’s the better of the two outcomes, even if it ends with his back to me.One step forward…
I sigh, not sure now why I thought this would help.
It does for me. The noise, the excitement, the people—being in a lively place like this always makes me feel a bit more alive, too. But clearly it’s not the same for him.
I should’ve anticipated. He hadn’t been happy at the saloon in Soldana. He hadn’t stayed at the hotel. He hadn’t wanted to be around all morning. Time and time again, he has preferred to keep to himself, but the thing is…I suspect that doesn’t make him happy either.
Riding seems to be something he enjoys. Something I enjoy, too, and I’d be more than willing to go with him even when there’s no destination. If he’d let me…
“You plannin’ on playing or not?”
I turn my head to find the man who spoke, currently sitting at the table closest to me and eyeing me with interest. I end up doing the same to him and the man beside him.
“Why?” I ask, giving him a friendly smile. “That an invitation?”
The man scoffs. “It’s an invitation to either sit down or keep moving. You’re hangin’ around. And it’s distracting.”
“My utmost apologies,” I say, taking a quick look around the table before putting all my focus back on him. “What’s your limit?”
He gives me a number that barely registers. Because the truth is, I’ve already determined he doesn’t have one, though I’d never be able to explain how. I just know. I can feel it, and I wonder if it’s a matter of intuition or simply repetition. Of simply too much time spent with too many like him.
“I’ll play,” I tell him, pulling out the remaining empty chair at the table and sitting. “Name’s Cypress.”
He smirks, giving the dealer a nod to bring me in and letting the other few men at the table introduce themselves before he says, “I’m Tom. This is John.” He tilts his head at the man next to him. “You passin’ through?”
I nod. “Yourself?”
He shrugs, picking up the cards that have been slid in front of him. “We were planning to head out after this game, but…may have found something to keep us here a while longer.” He smiles with far too many teeth before casting a look at the dancers who have recently come off stage, staying on one who’s now leaning against the bar, chin resting on her palm while she gazes adoringly at the woman pouring drinks on the other side.
And I know. I always know.
I watch Cypress in the mirror behind the bar as he sits to play, barely able to contain my agitation at him being so goddamn cavalier about this whole thing until I see it.
His hand is resting on the table over his cards, his thumbtap,tap,tappingthe surface as he stares at the men across from him. There’s five at the table plus a dealer, but I can tell it’s these two that he’s most focused on. Both dressed in dark colors, both with blood-red bandanas around their necks and beat-up wide brim hats on their heads. I can’t make out their faces, but I don’t really need to, because I can make out Cypress’s. Especially as they turn more than once to look toward the other end of the bar.
There’s a young woman down there, one of the dancers flirting with the bartender, who is so flustered by the attention that she keeps nearly dropping the glass she’s polishing to within an inch of its life. I chuckle, covering my mouth so they don’t think I’m laughing at them should they happen to notice anything but each other.
Funny how people can be so lovestruck. Poor souls.
My amusement fades, however, when I look back at Cypress, still tapping, still watching the men across from him as they watch her, and I start to get a feeling in my gut that I know better than to ignore.
“Dolly,” I call quietly, turning in my barstool to where she’s having a conversation with a few customers nearby. When she doesn’t hear me, I get up, walking the few paces to her side and ducking down to talk to her without sparing a glance at her patrons. “Can I have a word with you?”
She peers up at me, clearly not pleased at the intrusion, but the moment she sees my face she seems to recognize I’m not going to go away easily and excuses herself.
“What’s got you all in a tizzy now?” she asks as soon as we’ve stepped out of hearing distance. “You lose track of him already?”
I glower at her. “No, I know where he is, and I’m not—” She makes a gesture with her hand for me to hurry it along, and I roll my eyes before tipping my head at the table that’s captured my interest. “You know them? The two across from Cypress?”
Her gaze flicks that way, but she shakes her head. “No, they’re travelers. Almost everyone in here tends to be. Why?”
“They’re making Cypress anxious.”
“What makes you think that?”
For a brief moment, I almost tell her about the tapping, but decide against it since she might tell him and give away my advantage. “They keep looking at the girl down at the end of the bar.”
“Looking how?”