The gambler got to his feet casually.
"Lady Luck wasn't very kind to you tonight."
"You didn' help her much," Max said.
The gambler's hand streaked toward his coat. He froze, staring into the muzzle of Max's gun. It had come out so fast that he hadn't even sensed the motion.
"A man can get killed doin' foolish things like that," Max said softly.
The gambler's face relaxed into a smile.
"You are good," he said respectfully.
Max slipped his gun back into the holster.
"I think I've got a job for you," the gambler said. "That is if you don't mind working for a lady."
"A job's a job," Max said. "This ain't no time to be gettin' choosy."
The next morning, Max and the gambler sat in the parlor of the fanciest house in New Orleans.
A Creole maid came into the room.
"Miss Pluvier will see you now." She curtsied.
"If you will please follow me."
They followed her up a long, gracious staircase. The maid opened a door and curtsied as they walked through, then closed the door after them.
Max took two steps into the room and stopped in his tracks, gawking.
He had never seen a room like this.
Everything was white.
The silk-covered walls, the drapes at the windows, the woodwork, the furniture, the canopy of shimmering silk over the bed.
Even the carpet that spread lushly over the floor was white.
"Is this the young man?" a soft voice asked.
Max turned in the direction of the voice.
The woman surprised him even more than the room.
She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and her face was young, very young; but her hair was what did it more than anything else.
It was long, almost to her waist, and white, blue-white like strands of glistening satin.
The gambler spoke in a respectful voice.
"Miss Pluvier, may I present Max Sand."
Miss Pluvier studied Max for a moment.
"How do you do?" Max nodded his head. "Ma'am."
Miss Pluvier walked around him, looking at him from all angles.
"He seems rather young," she said doubtfully.
"He's extremely capable, I assure you," the gambler said. "He's a veteran of the recent war with Spain."
She raised her hand carelessly, interrupting his speech.
"I'm sure his qualifications are satisfactory if you recommend him," she said.
"But he does seem rather dirty."
"I just rode in from Florida, ma'am," Max said, finding his voice.
"His figure is rather good, though." She continued as if he hadn't spoken. She walked around him again. "Very broad shoulders, almost no hips at all.
He should wear clothes well.
I think he'll do." She walked back to the dressing table where she had been standing. She turned to face them. "Young man," she asked, "do you know what you're supposed to do?"
Max shook his head.
"No, ma'am."
"You're to be my bodyguard," she said matter-of-factly. "I have a rather large establishment here. Downstairs, we have several gaming rooms for gentlemen. Of course, we provide other discreet entertainments.
Our house enjoys the highest reputation in the South and as a result, many people are envious of us.
Sometimes, these people go to extremes in their desire to cause trouble.
My friends have persuaded me to seek protection."
"I see, ma'am," Max said.
Her voice became more businesslike. "My hours will be your hours," she said, "and you will live here with us.
Your wages will be a hundred dollars a month. Twenty dollars a month will be deducted for room and board.
And under no circumstances are you to have anything to do with any of the young ladies who reside here."
Max nodded. "Yes, ma'am."