Suited for Luck

by Daniel Schinhofen

  “They don’t start for another couple of hours yet, but yes,” she replied, stepping a little closer. “I can arrange for you to be notified when the doors open.”

  “In that case, I’ll gladly have you sit with me,” Doc smiled. “Let’s go see what the draw table is like.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Over the next few hours, Doc’s stack of chips grew. The people at the draw table had been more welcoming when he sat down, and as Doc hadn’t done more than win a few minor pots, no one complained about him winning.

  As night fell, the bottom floor was filled with people from all walks of life, and the number of companions in the room had grown to just over a dozen. Winning a hand, Doc smiled. He was making small talk with the player who had folded last when his companion squeezed his thigh.

  “Sir, the bigger games are open now,” she purred in his ear.

  “Gentlemen, it seems that bigger stakes present themselves. Thank you for the game and conversation, but since my luck is holding, I need to make the most of it.”

  “You’re a good player,” one of the men said. “Mind yourself upstairs, though; some sharks swim in those waters.”

  “Hopefully they will find tables other than mine,” Doc chuckled as he racked his chips.

  “Let me help you, sir,” the woman said and reached out to pick up some of his chips.

  “Of course,” Doc said, continuing his own task, but keeping his eyes on her hands.

  When one of his dollar coins didn’t make it to the rack, he did not react. Racks in hand, Doc let the companion lead him to the staircase. The stairs went up to a small landing where another guard was standing, holding a shotgun in his hands and wearing two pistols on his hips.

  Seeing the companion with him, the guard nodded and opened the door. “Enjoy your evening, sir.”

  Doc smiled as he took in the décor when he entered the room. Gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room in a golden glow. The floor wasn’t hardwood like downstairs, but soft carpeting. Exceptionally well-padded chairs surrounded the tables. No craps or faro, but roulette, blackjack, and poker are all here.

  Doc met the gaze of the few men already in the room and gave them amiable nods as he made his way to the table they were sitting at. “Gentlemen, do you mind if I join?”

  “Haven’t seen you before. New to town?” one of the men asked.

  “Arrived a couple of days ago.”

  A couple of the men at the table exchanged a knowing glance before one of them spoke up, “Always glad to welcome new blood. Game can get stale with the same players.”

  “Thank you,” Doc said, pulling a chair out. “I do thank you for your companionship, miss. With a game of this caliber, I’ll need to concentrate.” Holding out a chip to her, he smiled, “Keep it along with the other as my thanks.”

  The companion’s face betrayed her shock at having been caught before she stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swiped the chip and stalked away from the table.

  One of the men chuckled, “Turning away a woman? Maybe we should worry about your proclivities.”

  “I assure you that my proclivities are with the fairer sex.” Taking a seat, he unstacked his chips and made stacks out of the different denominations. “Dealer, can you change these up please?”

  “Yes, sir,” the dealer said, taking the lower value chips and giving Doc quarter-valued chips back in return. “Ante is a quarter, sir.”

  “Very well,” Doc smiled as he tossed one of them back. “Let’s play, shall we?”

  ~*~*~

  The next hour saw Doc mostly watching the others. He only got in on three hands, winning two of them. While they played, the room became busier. A small buzz ran through the room when a tall, well-dressed man entered the room with two women on his arms.

  “Who’s that?” Doc asked.

  “Mr. Suez,” Simpson replied. “Damn good card player.”

  “Good enough to own half the town,” Klomin added.

  “Cheating bastard that he is,” Daryl muttered, getting glared at by the others.

  “You want to get shot?” Klomin hissed softly.

  “Have a temper, does he?” Doc asked.

  “Last three men who’ve accused him of cheating ended up facing his right hand, Robert Kiddum, in the streets. Kiddum is the fastest draw in town. They never had a chance.”

  “Good to know,” Doc said seriously.

  Turning back to the game, Doc briefly saw Suez go to the draw table at the far end of the room. The next hand was barely underway before another commotion made Doc look to the door.

  “Mayor Goodman,” Simpson said, seeing Doc’s questioning look. “He owns the place.”

  “Plays with Suez most of the time,” Daryl added.

  Checking his hand, Doc had a pair of aces, so he waited for the bet to pass to him. “Fifty cents,” Doc said, tossing in the chips.

  “Oh, looks like we’ll have a good hand for once,” Klomin chuckled. “Make it a dollar.”

  Simpson and Daryl joined the hand while the other two at the table folded. The dealer looked to Doc, who tossed away his three trash cards. Klomin took two, Daryl got one, and Simpson took three.

  Doc checked his three cards— he had gotten a third ace, a king, and four. Klomin likely has trips, Daryl was going for a straight or flush, and Simpson must have had a low pair, Doc said, running through likely scenarios.

  “Sir, it’s your bet.”

  “A dollar,” Doc said.

  “Make it five,” Klomin was quick to raise.

  Daryl shook his head, tossing his cards away. “Busted straights aren’t worth five.”

  Simpson looked at his cards again and fiddled with his chips for a moment, ignoring the dealer when he was prompted. “You have something, Klomin... I know you do… question is if it’s what you want us to think it is?”

  Klomin just sipped at his whiskey, not giving away anything as he waited.

  “Fine, I want to know,” Simpson said, tossing in his chips.

  “Four more to me,” Doc mused as he picked up a five-dollar chip and began to dance it across his knuckles. “Simpson thinks you might be bluffing. I could dip out of this and let him show me, but my hand isn’t bad and might be good enough to beat Simpson, at least.”

  Klomin just stared at Doc as he set his whiskey down. “I’ll accept all the money you want to give me.”

  “Sounds like a challenge,” Doc smiled and set down the five-dollar chip on his stack. “Make it ten dollars.” Pushing in the other nine, he stared at Klomin.

  Klomin glanced down at the backs of his cards, held in place by a ten-dollar chip. “I did this. I’m not going to keep pushing it, though.” Picking up his chip, he slid the cards to the dealer.

  Simpson grinned, “Knew it.”

  “Five more to you, sir,” the dealer prompted Simpson.

  “Can’t fold,” Simpson sighed. “Call.”

  Once the chips were collected, Doc turned over his aces. “I picked up my trips. What about you?”

  Simpson sighed again and turned over his cards, showing three fives. “I got mine, too, but not good enough to beat you.”

  “Winner is triple aces,” the dealer said, pushing the chips to Doc before collecting the cards.

  “Biggest hand of the night... if I had just hit that straight,” Daryl grumbled.

  “I’d be a lot sadder if you had,” Doc chuckled.

  The others at the table chuckled, even Simpson and Klomin. “Yeah, and I’d be happier and richer.”

  “Funny how those two things go together so often,” Doc said while he stacked his chips.

  ~*~*~

  Doc stayed at the table for another hour and won a few more pots. “Well, gentlemen, since my luck looks to be holding, I think I’m going to set my sights on the big fish.”

  Daryl shook his head, “Luck doesn’t help much at that table.”

  Klomin elbowed him in the side, “Shut your mouth, idiot.�
�

  “You going to make yourself a regular?” Simpson asked.

  “If things work out, yes.”

  As Doc was gathering his things, another man walked past the table, the click of a cane loud to Doc’s ears. The players who had been chatting with him went quiet as they watched the man go by. Doc looked over his shoulder to see an older distinguished gentleman with a long, curly, waxed mustache go by.

  “Haven’t seen Brand in here for months,” Simpson grunted.

  “Wonder what he’ll lose to them tonight?” Daryl snorted. “Thought he would have learned last time.”

  “He still has the Lily and that burnt-out building,” Klomin said.

  Once he had finished collecting his chips, Doc tossed the dealer a dollar. “Thank you for your work. Gentlemen, until next time.”

  “If you have a next time,” Daryl replied.

  Doc was almost to the table when one of the large bestial guards cut him off. “Private game,” the guard grunted at him. “Invitation only.”

  “Ah, I didn’t realize,” Doc said. “Very well. Which table has the biggest stakes that isn’t a private game?”

  The bestial tilted his head to point a draw table a few feet away. “Five-dollar game.”

  Doc glanced at the table. There were three men sitting at the table, all dressed in expensive suits. “Guess I’ll have to make a name for myself first,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Feeling eyes on him from the private game, Doc looked over and gave the mayor a friendly nod. “Nice place.”

  “Thank you,” the mayor replied evenly. “You’d need twenty times that amount to even be given a brief consideration to join this game.”

  Doc looked down at the two hundred dollars in chips he was holding. “Very well. I’ll make sure to bring that kind of cash in the future.”

  Goodman’s forehead creased, but he turned away from Doc, clearly dismissing the unknown man.

  Doc took a seat at the five-dollar minimum table, giving the cold-eyed men a nod. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry for interrupting your game.”

  “Barely enough money there to be worth our time,” one of them grunted, “and you think you were going to join their game?”

  Doc smiled, not replying as he tossed a five-dollar chip to the dealer shuffling.

  “New player added to the table,” the dealer said, collecting the ante. “You’d be the next ante as well, sir.”

  “That’s fine,” Doc replied. “Let’s see what passes for the deep end here.”

  ~*~*~

  Doc kept his eyes sharp as he played at the high roller table over the next hour. He kept his face blank as he watched the dealer bottom deal a card to the man with a mole on his left cheek twice. The player with slicked-back hair was subtly creasing edges on some of the cards. The third man wasn’t doing anything obvious, but Doc noticed that he always came up with flushes when he drew a single card.

  Knowing who was doing what, Doc glanced down at his stack of chips, which had been cut in half. Alright, now that we know, let’s turn the tables on them.

  A couple more hands went by, and Doc started marking weaker cards the same way the man had been creasing the face cards. The fifth hand after he started to tinker with things, he finally moved.

  Having been dealt a pair of twos and a pair of nines, Doc opened up betting, “Twenty dollars.”

  The man marking cards looked at his hand and mucked his cards. “Not this time.”

  The man being assisted by the dealer folded as well. “Finally got a good hand, have you?”

  The man who switched cards smiled as he pushed forward more chips. “Raise to thirty.”

  Doc nodded, “Thirty, it is.”

  Doc replaced his single card and watched the other man do the same. This time, he saw the creased card the man was dealt get switched out with a different one from the man’s left sleeve. Looking down at his hand, Doc kept his face impassive— he had gotten a four, which was no help.

  “I have eighty-six dollars left,” Doc said. “I’m going to bet all of it.”

  The other man glanced at his cards before chuckling, “Fine with me. Call.”

  Doc sighed and flipped his cards over, showing two pair. “Made your hand, did you?”

  “Flush,” the man laughed as he turned over his cards.

  As all eyes went to the cards, Doc pulled his gun and cocked the hammer. “Cheat.”

  The guard near the big table raised his shotgun, “Drop that gun.”

  “This man is cheating. He deserves to be shot,” Doc replied without lowering his gun.

  “What the…? He is!” the other two at the table exclaimed, seeing the cards that were revealed on the table.

  “Dealer, don’t let them touch anything,” the mayor barked. “Go look at the table,” he ordered the bestial.

  The cheater began to sweat as he looked at what Doc had turned over and then his own hand. The two of spades was in both hands. “I’m not the cheat! He must have planted the card to frame me!”

  “Left sleeve,” Doc said coldly as the guard looked at the cards. “If needed, they can search me. Can you say the same?”

  The man Doc had his gun trained on bolted. Doc did not fire, and neither did the guard. A couple of cards drifted from the man’s sleeve as he ran. The guard grunted, “He was cheating. Winner by default is the other player.” With that said, the guard turned on Doc, “Pull that gun again and you will not be allowed to set foot into this building.”

  “Very well,” Doc said, carefully easing the hammer down. “How do I call cheating to attention, then?”

  “We take cheating seriously,” Goodman said, coming over to the table. “Thank you for exposing him, but my guard is right: we don’t approve of cavalier gunslingers. Just let the dealer know if you suspect someone of cheating.”

  “Very well,” Doc nodded. “I apologize for my actions.”

  “How did you know?” Goodman asked.

  “He always had a two when he made a flush, and he always made flushes when he took a single card,” Doc replied. “When I saw I had a pair of deuces, I knew I had a chance to call him out.”

  “Hmm, interesting,” Goodman said. “The excitement is over,” he told the room, which had all looked over when the gun was drawn. “Go back to your games. No more excitement shall happen tonight.”

  The dealers at the tables began to immediately go back to work. The two men at Doc’s table glowered, and the one who was in cahoots with the dealer spoke up, “He gets the pot, but the cheat had taken chips of ours before that. What compensation are we going to get for a cheater being allowed to play?”

  “That is a good point,” Goodman nodded. “The pot stands, but the rest of the chips will be divided amongst you three. Fair?”

  “I’m good,” slicked hair said with a grin.

  “Fine,” Doc nodded.

  The third man was going to object, but nodded instead, his lips tight. “Fine.”

  “Good,” Goodman said as he went back to his own game.

  “Let me divide the chips,” the dealer said, having already moved the pot to Doc.

  “Thanks. I was getting upset that he kept winning hands like that,” the card marker said.

  “So was I,” Doc replied. “I think I should quit for tonight. Too much excitement for me.”

  “No,” the other man said quickly, “stay a bit longer. A two-way table isn’t as fun.”

  “Maybe next time,” Doc said as he gathered the chips together. “Dealer, that stack has an extra ten-dollar chip in it,” Doc said once the dealer finished dividing the stacks. He had been sliding the larger stack to the man trying to get him to stay.

  “What?” the dealer balked, his hand stopping halfway to the man.

  “Halfway down the singles,” Doc said idly as if he was only commenting on a minor error.

  “Uh, so it seems,” the dealer said, bringing the stack back to the middle of the table and dividing the chips correctly the second time. “Here you go,” he said,
giving Doc the first stack.

  “Thanks. Have a good night,” Doc tossed the dealer a five-dollar chip.

  As he went for the stairs, Doc felt the eyes on him and wondered if he had done the right thing. I probably just alienated the cheats. They’ll think twice when playing with me... good and bad with that, but others might think of it as a challenge. Shaking his head, he left the room to cash in his chips.