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.”