...The first crystal notes from the piano filled the air as Ethan tested the instrument, and Jesse frowned at his cards when the noise in the bar seemed to increase. The more Ethan played, the louder the cowboys got, as if deliberately trying to drown out the music. When Ethan began to sing softly, his voice was lost in the ruckus around them, and Kit laughed. “He ain’t getting a penny in this shithole tonight.”

The cowboys teased the young tenderfoot, disrupting the song that quivered beneath their raucous catcalls and mocking words. Jesse could barely hear the sound of Ethan’s voice, a ray of angelic light cutting through the noise. “Stuff it, pretty boy!” someone cried.

Laughter followed as Ethan’s voice faltered on the opening strands of “Nearer My God to Thee.”

“Pick up the pace!” someone else shouted, and a few cowboys close to the piano leaned over Ethan, their fingers reaching for the keys. Discordant notes plucked from the instrument to strike the air, and Ethan blushed beneath the rough men pushing him aside. Someone else started up a round of a familiar drinking song, winking at Marie until she laughed like a bell in the crowd.

Jesse had had enough. Tossing his cards into the kitty, he stood and pulled his Colt .45 in one fluid move. Without taking aim, he fired a shot into the air.

The loud report silenced the room.

Diego and Kit looked up at him, Joey turned from Marie, and Ethan’s warm gaze enflamed Jesse’s senses. He dared another half-smile; the cowboys in the room shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Jesse’s pale blue eyes. “If you don’t mind,” he drawled, his voice dangerously low, “I’d like to hear this song.”

Someone tittered, and with lightning speed Jesse leveled his revolver at a lone cowboy, sitting with his back to the wall. “The next person who speaks, dies,” Jesse promised.

He slowly cocked the gun, drawing the sound of clicking metal out into the sudden silence of the saloon. When he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he lowered his weapon and nodded at Ethan. “I’d suggest starting over again,” he said, taking his seat. “I missed the beginning.”

Clearing his throat, Ethan ventured, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Jesse said again.

He glared around the room, challenging anyone to meet his gaze or make a sound. None of the cowboys were that brave. Satisfied, Jesse picked up his cards and studied them as Ethan started playing the piano a second time. This time, his young, clear voice filled the saloon, and Jesse let the music fill the hollow places inside him.

Then he got a good look at his cards, and frowned at Diego. “I had a full house.”

“You lie,” Diego said softly, spreading his hand out in front of him. “I have a full house.”

Jesse sighed and tossed down his cards. “You cheat,” he said, but his voice held no threat. This was nothing new to him.

“You should watch your cards more carefully,” Diego pointed out, scooping in the pile of money and chips from the center of the table, “instead of letting yourself get distracted by a pretty face.”

Leaning back in his chair, Jesse bit his lip and watched Ethan. He didn’t hear the words so much as felt the melody crash over him in waves, and that sweet, soulful voice pierced through to the very heart of him. Suddenly he was no longer interested in cards, or Diego’s braying laugh, or the nervous rustling of the cowboys around him.