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Speak its name.
—Lord Alfred Douglas
The room was filled with smoke from the cigars being puffed around a gaming table at Fort James. Hiram was gambling with his friend Colonel Fred Cox and several other men of the colonel’s regiment. Playing cards was a way for Hiram to work off the frustrations that had been building due to Lavinia’s strange behavior.
He was certain that she was lying about not feeling up to eating at the dining table with Hiram. He knew she had no love for him and had always kept her distance from him even when Virgil was alive.
Well, he would show her a thing or two about avoiding Hiram Price, he thought angrily to himself.
He planned to go to his sister-in-law’s room as soon as he returned home from visiting his old pal Fred. After getting a few drinks in him, he would have the courage to face Lavinia. He would have his way with her by one means or another.
He had waited long enough.
And Virgil was no longer there to protect her.
Just thinking about having Lavinia in bed with him brought a sly, mocking grin to his lips.
“Well? You got more’n I have showin’ on the table, Hiram?” asked one of the soldiers named Jake, his pale blue eyes squinting as cigar smoke rolled into them. He blinked his eyes. “You got a full house, Hiram?”
A sheen of sweat lay across Hiram’s brow. He wiped it clean with the back of his hand, which was already just as sweaty. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he growled out. He cast his one eye at Jake, who was anxiously waiting to show his cards.
“That’s what we’re here for, ain’t it?” Jake said, laughing. “Show us what you’ve got, Hiram, or give up and go on home. Ain’tcha got a pretty thing waitin’ on you since your brother’s death? You are beddin’ up with her, ain’tcha?”
Colonel Cox intervened. “We’ll not have any more talk such as that, Jake,” he said tightly. “Now just play cards. Nothing else. Do you hear?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do if One-Eye’d just play his hand,” Jake said, still glaring at Hiram, who sat across the table from him.
“One-Eye?” Hiram said, trying to keep his anger at bay. He wiped his sweaty palm on his pants’ leg. “Call me that one more time and I’ll show you more than my cards.”
“Both of you, play cards or the game ends here,” Fred barked out, glaring from Hiram to Jake.
“Yep, I have a full house alright,” Hiram boasted.
Hiram slammed the cards down on the table,faceup. He ran his hand across his brow and wiped it again, as he had so often during the card game.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jake grumbled. “You do, after all.”
“Well? What do you have, big-mouth?” Hiram asked, chuckling beneath his breath. “Show us what you got, Jake.”
Jake’s face turned as red as his hair as he slammed the cards on the table, face side down, then shoved his chair back. He rose so quickly, it tumbled over backward on the floor.
He glared at Hiram, then hurriedly left the room. “Got no spine, that one,” Hiram said. He watched as the other players, five in all, threw down their cards.
“Seems I’m taking home quite a few coins,” Hiram said, snickering as he slid the coins over to himself, then swept them from the table and eased them into his pockets.
He was dressed in his usual black suit with a slim, black tie contrasting against his white shirt. His collar-length black hair was swept back from his face, making his one eye more pronounced. Sweat clung to his hair in translucent, pearly beads.
“Time to call it quits,” Fred said, gathering the cards as the men passed them to him. “Later, gents. Later.”
All of the men but Hiram and Fred left the table. Fred handed Hiram a fresh cigar and leaned over the table to light it after Hiram shoved it between his lips.
Then Fred, dressed immaculately in his blue uniform, with the gold buttons shining beneath the light of the lantern, lit his own cigar. He slid his chair back from the table and stretched his long, lean legs out, crossing them at the ankles.
“Hiram, I can tell that you’ve come today for more than playing cards,” Fred said, eyeing Hiram speculatively. He winced with distaste at how heavily Hiram was sweating. “What is it? Things aren’t going so good for you since your brother’s untimely death, eh? Hiram, did you ever figure out who was the shooter? Or…do you even care?”
“And what do you mean by that?” Hiram demanded. He smiled mischievously as smoke spiraled from his mouth, the cigar now resting on the edge of an ashtray. “What might you be implying, Fred? Huh?”
“It took no genius to see how jealous you were of your brother, Hiram,” Fred said, resting his own cigar in the same ashtray. “I knew long ago how much you hated Virgil and coveted his wife. Everyone could tell, Hiram. It was always there in your attitude and the way you glared at Virgil when he would not catch you doin’ it.”
