56

Baton Rogue, Louisiana

August 2,1876

Owen Russell held the cards firmly in his grip. Play it calm. You’re almost there. He eyed the money in the center of the round table. After seven hours of playing poker, it all came down to this moment. If I win this hand, Aunt Rachel will be financially stable again.

The dim light in the saloon and the heavy smoke gave him a headache but he pressed forward. He hated being here. But he had to do this. If he didn‘t, his aunt would end up homeless. Ignoring the drunk patrons and the prostitutes lingering around, he straightened in his chair and focused on the cards in front of him.

Forcing his attention from the whispers as people bet on who would win, he peaked at the clock. Almost five in the morning. Almost there. Just be calm. This game was too important. Out of the eight players who started the game, only he and Big Roy Hawke were left. A quick glance at Big Roy, aptly named for his overweight frame, notified him that the b