A/N: Thank you so very much for the kind review tellygirl! I'm glad you've enjoyed it. That's why I publish this stuff after all. :)
If you hadn't noticed, there's a drabble a year here... I've been subtlety slipping in an age marker into each drabble.
And here takes root the very beginning of the whole "you dumped me" scenario. I still think Maude was misguided in doing it, but I think she believes it was the right thing to do.
"Mama?"
Maude forced herself not to react to the hopeful plea.
Betsy Martin, a young woman whom Maude had paid to keep Ezra in the saloon but safely away from the high-stakes poker game she was running, scooped up the little boy and placed him on her hip. "Your mama will be back soon," she soothed.
Maude laid down her cards. "Full house," she smiled. She raked the pot in to her.
Smiling at the men, she stacked the winnings together and stuffed them into her purse. "Thank you for a lively game, gentlemen," she said politely, standing up and gathering her skirts to walk away from the table. She went up to the bar and ordered a drink, which she sipped at she watched Betsy lead her son from the saloon in the mirror.
When she was sure no one would connect her and the boy that had left, she paid for her drink and sashayed out of the saloon.
She walked down the street, using her handkerchief trick to acquaint herself with a passing man who looked like a prospective mark, just in case. She met with Betsy in the hotel lobby.
"Mama!"
Maude smiled at her son, before turning to Betsy.
"Thank you so much for watching him," Maude gushed, handing the girl an extra dollar, as she reached down for Ezra's hand. He latched onto her fingers tightly.
"He wasn't any trouble," smiled Betsy, accepting the dollar eagerly.
"Why, of course not, he's my son!" Maude said.
As Betsy left the hotel, Maude knelt down in front of Ezra, adjusting his little jacket. "Now, Ezra, we talked about this," she said. "When Mama's working, you have to keep away, alright?"
The brown head nodded solemnly.
"Good," Maude said. She stood up and offered her hand again, straightening her skirts and hat as she did so. "Shall we go for dinner, Ezra?"
"Yes, Mama," agreed her one-year-old-son.
As they started for the door, Betsy came dashing through it, breathless. "Mrs. Standish!" she called. She stopped when she saw her quarry. "Oh, there you are! Mrs. Standish, those men in the saloon are getting drunk and… and I don't think it's going to be safe for you here much longer," she said.
Maude scooped Ezra up in her arms and ran for the stables, praying the stable boy would hurry. This was getting crazy. One of these days, they would figure out who Ezra was to her and he'd pay for her career. There had to be a better way.