Chapter 43
Ezra Wilson sat at the card table in the Silver Gulch saloon in Stoney Ridge, a flyspeck of a town between St. Joe and Council Bluffs in Iowa. The pot was a sizeable one, and he planned to make it his, even though his hand could have been a lot better. He was good at bluffing, and he grinned at the other men at the table and pushed all his coins to the center of the table. “I call.”
One by one they looked from the pot to their cards and finally to him, then folded.
Suckers. Ezra tossed down his cards and drew the coins and bills toward him. There was grumbling, but that the f**k did he care? He ignored them.
He growled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t like being touched.
“It’s me.” The low voice belonged to Eli, the youngest of the brothers. Originally there’d
