The Bowes Inheritance – Prologue
Prologue
The Safe Haven Inn, Carlisle, England, 1867
Alex Maxwell lifted his head from his hand and tried to focus on the player across the table. As his vision cleared, his whiskey-addled mind struggled to follow. The man’s eyes were hard and unyielding but there was the suggestion of humour there too; but at his expense. Everything about the man suggested the gentleman. He was convivial and charming, spoke with a cultivated accent and was dressed with quiet elegance. But there was just something about him that Alex didn’t trust. Until the last few hands he had shown no great skill at the cards, but Alex had noticed that as the stakes had gradually increased, so had the man’s luck.
Fumes of alcohol and tobacco were making Alex feel nauseous and his hands were slick with sweat as he picked up his cards. His eyes momentarily rested on the piece of paper in the centre of the table, where he had placed it, minutes before. It was utter folly to pledge one of his properties as a bet, but some sort of madness was driving him tonight. He looked at his cards one last time – three queens and two aces – a great hand, but was it good enough? Slowly he revealed his cards, his stomach churning, because he knew he had bluffed once too often.
From the bar came the rumble of talk and laughter, but silence dominated the cramped and darkened backroom where the men were playing.
“I believe my hand wins, my friend,” the man across the table said. He placed his cigar in an ashtray before laying the cards down on the table in a leisurely and confident manner.
Four kings.
Those around the table, who had had the good fortune to fold early, drew in a collective breath of reverence; whoever this man was, he was damn good.
Alex felt the room spin as all eyes fell on him, most full of pity, one pair brimming with derision.
“Where is this godforsaken place, anyway? I hope it’s a decent bit of land,” the stranger said, breaking into the stunned silence. He reached for the bottle of Bushmills and poured himself a glass with surprisingly steady hands; earlier in the evening he had given the impression of being quite inebriated. With an ironic twist of his mouth, he offered to refill Alex’s glass.
Alex shook his head. His tongue felt thick, dry and uncooperative. “It’s down the coast from here, three miles from Newton.” He felt his hands tremble; to lose such a fine farm in a game of chance was unconscionable. But he was an honourable man and he had willingly entered the game. His opponent had not cheated – as far as he knew.
“Never heard of it!” exclaimed the stranger. He eyed Alex shrewdly before leaning back in his chair. “I hope it is worth what you claim.”
Alex glared back at him in horror. “Who are you, sir?”
“Jack Campbell – at your service,” the man said, with a mocking nod of his head. “Perhaps we will become better acquainted now that we will be neighbours.”
Alex drew a ragged breath. Had he really just lost Bowes Farm to this man? His family would never forgive him and, most importantly, he would never forgive himself.
***
Available on Amazon on 24th July 2015
