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PROLOGUE
Buffalo, 1885
Ryan Colby was a single card move away from achieving his life-long dream.
The stout man across the table wore a serious scowl as he surveyed the cocky young sailor. A thick plume of smoke hung over his head like a halo from his cigar causing his eyes to narrow as he stared hard down his nose at Ryan. However, Ryan wasn’t intimidated. He rocked back on the hind legs of his chair and raised an arrogant eyebrow at the older man, confident in his set of cards. Before them lay several folded cards along with a heap of colored chips. In general, he wasn’t one to wager more than he could afford. But this time around, Ryan had put every penny he owned in. It was Clive Hepworth’s move and Ryan knew he had bested the man. Nothing could outdo a royal flush. He couldn’t believe his luck.
Around them, the small tavern had slowly emptied leaving only a handful of patrons. The proprietor of the establishment had dimmed most of the lanterns apart from the one that hung over the poker table where Ryan sat playing the most important game of his life.
They had been at it since high noon with six of them initially at the table. Now they were down to just Ryan and Clive. Ryan’s hand was the best it had been in a very long while. If he was being honest, the cards—or lady luck—hadn’t been in his favor all year. That was until today.
For the most part, he usually wasn’t so dang arrogant when it came to revealing his hand, but blazing Mary, he was so excited he couldn’t control the grin that tugged at his bottom lip.
Taking a swig of whiskey from his tumbler to conceal the smile, he glanced out the saloon’s window to see the Francesca, an enormous four-mast clipper, sail past the establishment. She was headed down the Niagara River en route for Detroit City some one hundred and eighty-seven nautical miles south on the western point of Lake Erie. His smile wavered, as he would have preferred being on board the ship and sailing the open waters rather than being cooped up in some dark smoky saloon in the overcrowded city. Even if that meant forgoing the best cards he’d ever played. And he would have if Clive hadn’t upped the odds favorably by tossing his “little lady” into the pool.
The lady in question was the man’s very own private schooner, Lady Evelina. Sure, it was small and by far nowhere near as grand as the Francesca was, but it was just the right size for a one-man crew with its single mast and living compartment below deck that contained a sleeping quarter nearly unheard of in a private vessel. A boat Ryan could only have dreamed about owning. He certainly didn’t make enough money as a sailor on the Great Lakes to save the kind of funds needed to buy such a beauty.
But who needed to when the opportunity came around to win the boat fair and square in a hand of cards. When he entered into the game earlier that afternoon, he had no idea the boat was up for grabs. No, he had just come down to play an innocent friendly game of poker to while away the time until the Francesca pulled out of port. Then, to his amazement, he began winning round after round. The atmosphere in the saloon had gotten thick with tension and anticipation. The game went on for so long, the other players who had bailed out earlier, began betting with each other on the game’s final outcome.
Hand after hand, Ryan raked in the chips and bought a round of drinks for the establishment. He probably ought to rein in his level of alcoholic consumption as he was getting a bit too tipsy, but he was feeling far too pompous. Clive Hepworth had nothing left. He was down to two chips and the last hand. Then shocking everyone, he went all in—throwing into the pool his pride and joy, the Lady Evelina, so certain was he of his hand.
Clive narrowed his eyes and looked hard across the table at Ryan, holding his gaze until at last he splayed out his cards fan-like across the top of the oak surface.
Four of a kind.
Ryan whistled, feigning defeat. “Oh man, Hepworth, that’s a dang good hand.”
“Just play your cards and stop acting like a cocky son-of-a—.”
“Now, now, no need to get all excited. I tell ya what…” he said while exhaling heavily with false despair and rubbing his jaw as if contemplating his next move. Then, smug as all can be, he lifted his chin and planted a great big grin from ear to ear and shouted to the establishment, “Someone get me a cigar because I just won me the sweetest little lady this side of the St. Lawrence River!”
Triumphant, he laid his cards down with a flourish, leaping to his feet and whooping with joy.
He couldn’t believe it. Eight hours of the most intense and grueling game of poker had just won him the boa
t of his dreams. The idea of sailing beyond the Great Lakes and up the St. Lawrence to the sea beyond was something he had wanted to do ever since he could remember. His favorite toy as a child was a wooden sailboat his father had carved. He wanted nothing more in life than to become a sailor and travel to far off continents and oceans. And that dream was about to become a reality.
Several men smacked him on the back with congratulating slaps while yet again another round of free drinks resulted in a rupture of jeering and rejoicing.
Clive approached him appearing far friendlier than Ryan would have been if he had just lost his most prized possession in a poker game. “Well played, Colby. Congratulations.”
Somewhere in the haze of his intoxication, his conscience tried to nudge Ryan that something didn’t feel right. Even in a slightly drunken stupor, he felt somewhat guilty. But, then again, no one forced the man’s hand. He could have walked away from the table with only his pocketbook empty.
“That was a just hand, Hepworth. I won it fair and square.”
“Touché.” He nodded in agreement. “I am not going to try to argue the wager. Though it pains me to hand over my precious Evelina, she is yours. If you want her.”
