Georgia's Gamble [A Historical Fiction Novel; The Pratt Chronicles Book 1]

Chapter 19

Benjamin Tucker

Chapter 19

The dim glow of the lanterns cast long shadows across the stables as I finally made my way into the tack room where the boys had set up their usual poker game. It was a scene I was used to—cards scattered across the table, half-empty glasses of whiskey, and a lot of teasing banter flying around. It was our thing, our way of unwinding after long days at the ranch. But tonight, I was running late, and I knew exactly why.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up!" Jed, my best friend and fellow jockey, grinned at me from across the table, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Thought maybe Arlo and Georgia finally ran you into the ground."

I chuckled, dropping into the empty chair between two of the guys. "Couldn't let you win without me, could I?" I shot back, grabbing the glass of whiskey they'd left for me and taking a sip. The burn felt good after the long day, a welcome warmth in the cool night air.

There was a chorus of laughter around the table, the usual easy banter that came whenever we all got together like this. It didn't matter what was going on outside the stables, how rough or tiring the day had been—nights like these were a way to unwind, to feel like we were a little family of our own.

"Yeah, right," another jockey, Sam, chimed in, shaking his head. "We all know you've been spending a *lot* more time with Georgia lately. Just admit it, Tucker, she's got you wrapped around her little finger."

More laughter erupted, and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "I'm just training Arlo," I said, trying to sound casual even though I knew there was truth in their teasing. "She's got high standards, that's all."

Jed raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on his elbows, clearly not buying it. "Yeah, sure. That's why you've been walking around with that goofy grin on your face every time you see her."

I didn't answer that, just shook my head and focused on my cards, but my smile didn't fade. The truth was, I *did* spend a lot of time with Georgia—and I didn't mind one bit. There was something about being around her that just felt easy, natural. Like she belonged here. Like *we* belonged together.

"Alright, alright, let the man have his moment," Sam cut in, shuffling the deck as he looked around at the group. "Besides, we've got more important things to talk about—like heading into town this weekend. What do you say, boys? It's been a while."

There was a collective murmur of agreement from the others. Going into town wasn't something we did often, but every now and then, it was good to cut loose, have a few drinks that weren't poured out of an old whiskey bottle we kept stashed in the stables.

Jed grinned, leaning back in his chair. "You know what they say—ladies love a cowboy."

I snorted, glancing around the room. "We're not cowboys, Jed."

"Close enough," Jed shot back, raising his glass. "Horses, boots, hats—we've got the look down."

"Speak for yourself," Sam said with a smirk, dealing out the next hand. "I'm not wearing any damn cowboy hat."

The laughter was infectious, and I found myself relaxing into the easy rhythm of the conversation. It felt good—just the guys, the smell of hay and whiskey, the distant sound of horses settling down for the night. This was our world, our little corner of it, and there was a comfort in that.

"So, we heading out, or what?" Jed asked, his grin still in place as he picked up his cards. "Could be good for Tucker to, you know, get out of the *stables* for a night."

The teasing was relentless, but that was how it always was. We gave each other hell, but it was all in good fun. It was how we kept things light, how we stayed connected even when the days were long and the work was hard.