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that she hoped would bring sympathy. Or at the very least, lessons. “The war was hard on my family.”
    “So you need to win a great deal of money?”
    She nodded. “Fifteen thousand dollars.”
    He let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you need a mighty fine teacher.”
    She smiled. “And since you taught Dyer to play, you must be the best teacher on the river.”
    “I taught Dyer how to play, and then he taught me how to lose.”
    “Dyer beats you?” she asked, disappointed that the perfect solution to her problem eluded her once again.
    “Regularly.”
    “But if you taught him, surely you know the game better.”
    “There’s more to poker than knowing the game. You have to know your opponent and be willing to play without fear.” He faced
     her in the darkness. “You see, my dear, Dyer doesn’t care whether he wins or loses. That makes him unpredictable and very
     dangerous . . . in more ways than one.”
    “I’m not afraid of him.”
    “That’s obvious.” Newt smiled. “But I tell you what, Lottie . . .” He stopped. “May I call you Lottie?”
    “Only if I can call you Newt.”
    “Well, Lottie, I promise I will use any influence I may have over Mr. Obediah Straights to persuade him to help you out.”
    She beamed up at him. “Oh, thank you. You are a true gentleman.”
    “Or something like that,” he said with a wink. Newt waited to chuckle until Lottie walked around the corner of the deck and
     out of earshot.
    “What’s so funny?” Sally asked, sidling up beside him at the rail.
    “Dyer’s finally met his match.”
    “With
Lottie
?” She made it sound like that was the most improbable thing in the world.
    “Who else?”
    Sally snorted, then patted the back of her hair. “I’ve known Dyer as long as you have, and I’ve never known him to sniff after
     a true lady. He avoids those at all cost.”
    “And you think our new saloon girl is a true lady?”
    Rolling her big brown eyes in his direction, she added another snort. “Don’t you?”
    Of course he did, but teasing Sally was one of his favorite pastimes. “I don’t know. She’s wearing a mighty short skirt and
     working on a riverboat. Doesn’t sound genteel to me.”
    Sally’s flippant manner stilled suddenly as she turned to stare over the rail and across the river. Her voice dropped to almost
     a whisper. “Sometimes a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”
    Newt wasn’t sure whether Sally was speaking to him or to the night. For a brief moment, her face softened to the girl he’d
     met twenty years ago. No face paint or henna-dyed hair, just laughter and ambition and passion.But before he could reach her, she whipped back to the tough lady she’d become. The one who could bring a man to his knees
     with a snap of her fingers.
    “You mark my words, Newt Crawford,” she said, poking him in the chest with her finger. “If Dyer hurts that girl, he’ll pay
     dearly.”
    Newt tried to imagine Sally hurting Dyer. She worried over him like a mother hen. “How are you going to make him pay?”
    “I wouldn’t have to. He’d torture himself more than anyone else ever could.”
    “And you think he’s out to hurt Lottie?”
    “No, not intentionally, but something tells me Lottie’s had enough hurt to last her, and Dyer heaping more on wouldn’t help
     her none.”
    “Have you ever thought of the fact that Lottie might be good for Dyer?”
    Sally paused for a moment to contemplate Newt’s question before shrugging. “I’m not sure any woman can get through to him.
     Lord knows, plenty have tried. But those have all been loose women, and they deserved no less. Lottie’s a true lady, and I
     don’t think she can handle a man like Dyer.”
    The fact there’d been many women in Dyer’s bed was an understatement, but Newt wasn’t about to reinforce Sally’s opinion as
     he offered his arm to escort her through the warm summer night to her room.
    He had no desire to argue with Sally, but he wasn’t