“Cindy,” Stillwater said. “My neck is stiff. Why don’t you come over here in rub it?”
“You willing to pay for it?” Cindy asked.
“Why should I pay for it? Is Clark paying you to put your hand on his shoulder?”
“No.”
“Then come over here and rub my neck like I asked. That’s what you are supposed to do in here, ain’t it? Keep the customers happy?”
“You aren’t a customer unless you pay for it,” Cindy said. “If I’m not getting paid, then I’ll be with who I want to be.”
“Ha, Stillwater, I reckon she told you all right,” McWorthy said. McWorthy had served ten years in prison for shooting a man back in Wichita. Nobody knew if he was actually wanted now or not, but he had arrived in Desolation a few months earlier, purposely choosing the town because of its reputation as being friendly to outlaws. McWorthy supported himself by petty larceny, which he carried on in surrounding towns, always retreating back to Desolation.
It was McWorthy’s deal and his hands moved swiftly as he folded the cards in and out until he was satisfied with the shuffle. He pushed the cards toward Stillwater, who cut them, then pushed them back.
“Is five-card draw all right with everyone?” McWorthy asked.
“Yeah, five-card draw is fine,” Stillwater said. “Cindy, let me tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to win Clark’s poke. Then after I take all of his money, I’m going to spend every cent of it on you. What do you think about that?”
“If you’ve got the money, I’ll be your honey,” Cindy replied, and the others around the table, including Clark, laughed.
Clark lost fifteen dollars on the first hand after having folded cautiously with a hand that would have been good enough to win, had he stayed in the game.
Stillwater won the hand, and he cackled as he dragged in the pot.
“If you ain’t got the guts to play the game, you might want to sit out the next hand,” he said to Clark. “You should’ve bet them cards.”
Clark gave up the next hand as well, even though it was strong enough to have at least bet the first round.
“Damn,” Stillwater said as he raked in his winnings. “Dodd don’t need to come up with no more jobs. Not as long as I can win money from you.”
This time, Stillwater got a laugh.
Clark was down thirty dollars by the third hand, but there was over sixty dollars in the pot, and he had drawn two cards to complete a full house. When the bet came to him, he put his hand on the money, pushed it out, then drew it back, thought about it for a moment, then pushed it back out.
“What? You mean you are going to bet this time?” Stillwater teased. “Better be careful now, you might want to think about that. You don’t want to get too brave. I’ll see your five, and raise you five.”
Clark studied his hand for a long moment before, and with some hesitation, he called.
“All right, Clark, let’s see your cards,” Stillwater said. Stillwater was holding three jacks, and he laughed when he saw Clark’s hand.
“You were holding a full house and you didn’t raise?”
“You might’ve had a stronger hand. I like to be certain about things. And as you can see, prudence was a good choice,” Clark said as he raked in the pot. “I am now forty dollars ahead.”
“You don’t know much about cards, do you?” Stillwater said. “Hell, iffen I’d had that hand, I would’a won eighty, maybe a hunnert dollars with it.”
“But, you didn’t have that hand, did you?” Clark asked.
“Tell you what, kid. Why don’t I just show you what this game is all about. I’ve been layin’ off you a bit because I can see that you don’t have no idea at all about playin’ cards. Well, I’m about to teach you how to play, and it’s goin’ to cost you some money.”
“You mean you want me to pay you for lessons?” Clark asked.
“You don’t have to pay me. I’ll just take the money from you, and that’ll be lesson enough for you,” Stillwater said. “All you got to do is pay attention while you’re losin'. I’m going to take every dollar you have, and spend it all on Cindy.”
“Oh, well, then Cindy can’t lose, can she?” Clark said.
“What are you? Some kind of a wise guy?” Stillwater asked.
Though Clark gave no outward sign, inwardly he smiled. Stillwater was extremely agitated now, and the more agitated he became, the more injudicious would be his decisions. This was going to be an interesting game.
“I’m going to ante the limit this time,” Clark said hesitantly. He put his hand on the money and held it for a moment, as if thinking about it, then, with a sigh, pushed the money forward. “Ten dollars.”
“Oh, ten dollars?” Stillwater said. “That’s a little steep for you, ain’t it?”
“Not too bad. I’m forty dollars ahead, so I’m not actually betting with my own money,” Clark replied.
“Ahh, not betting with your own money. That’s just real smart now. I tell you what. How about we up the ante a little?”
“Up the ante?”
“Sure, why not? Like you say, you aren’t playing with your own money. What will it hurt if you lose a little?”
“I don’t know. If we raise the ante, it wouldn’t take too long before I would be playing with my own money again.”
“So what you are saying is, you are afraid to raise the ante.”
“I wouldn’t say I am afraid.”
“You wouldn’t, eh? What would you say?” Stillwater teased.
“I think I would rather say that I am cautious,” Clark replied.
Stillwater laughed. “Did you hear that, boys? I say he’s afraid, but he says he’s cautious.”
The others around the table laughed.
“What do you say, Cindy? Is he cautious? Or is he afraid?”
“Jules, why don’t you quit picking on him?” Cindy asked.
“No, I ain’t goin’ to quit pickin’ on him,” Stillwater said. “He sat down to play a man’s game with men, so let him be a man. Now what do you say, boy? Are you going raise the ante? Or are you too scared?”
“I suppose I’ll go along with raising the ante,” Clark said, continuing the illusion that he was not real comfortable with the situation.
“Ha!” Stillwater said. He shoved the cards across the table to Clark. “It’s your deal. You do know how to deal, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know how to deal. Everyone knows how to deal,” Clark replied, as if he had been offended by Stillwater’s comment.
Clark picked up the cards, then skillfully, and without being detected, felt them as he began shuffling, checking for pinpricks and uneven corners. He was satisfied that they were playing with an honest deck.
In truth, Clark was exceptionally skilled at cards, but had purposely passed himself off as a novice. Evidently, his ruse had worked, because Stillwater was sure of himself to the point of overconfidence. And that, Stillwater’s overconfidence, was the only edge Clark needed in the game.
Clark dealt the cards. The other players, perhaps motivated by the supposed recklessness of Clark and Stillwater, bet briskly so that, within a few moments, the pot was over two hundred dollars.
“Wait a minute,” Conklin said. “What am I doing here? I’m forty dollars into this pot. How did it get so big? I can’t afford to stay in this game.”
Well, you have this fella to thank for that,” Stillwater said. “He’s all full of himself because he won the last hand.”
“I haven’t been raising the bets, I have just been matching them,” Clark said. “And I think Conklin is right, it has gotten too high, but I am almost too afraid to drop out now. I wish I had been more prudent. I fear that I have too much invested.”
“Hah! Now, sonny, you are in a man’s game,” Stillwater said. “Let’s just see how much of a man you are. It’s going to cost you one hundred dollars to stay in.”
“That’s it, I’m out also,” McWorthy said. “Stillwater, you ain’t got no right to just
up and buy a pot like that.”
“Same rules goes for you as goes for the kid here,” Stillwater said. “If you ain’t man enough to stay in the game, you shouldn’t of got into it in the first place. I guess that means I won.” Stillwater chuckled, then reached for the pot and started to pull it toward him. “And now, kid, this is what I mean about teaching you a lesson.”
“Wait a minute,” Clark said. “Don’t I get a chance to bet?”
“You want to bet? Sure, go ahead. Me an’ Cindy can have us a fine old time on your money. The bet to you is one hundred dollars.”
The hesitancy and confusion left Clark’s face, and he stared across the table at Stillwater and smiled. Then the smile turned to a quiet, confident chuckle.
“I’ll see your one hundred, and two hundred more to you,” he said.
“What?” Stillwater gasped.
Clark laid his hand down, putting four cards to one side, and one card separated from the others.
“If you want to see my hand, it’s going to cost you two hundred dollars.”
“I ain’t got that much money. Conklin, lend me two hunnert dollars.”
“Now, tell me, Jules. If I ain’t goin’ to put up the money to stay in the game myself, why should I back you?” Conklin asked.
“McWorthy?”
“I ain’t got two hunnert dollars, Stillwater. I ain’t even got one hunnert dollars. And I wouldn’t lend it to you if I did have it,” McWorthy answered. “Look at the way he laid them cards down. Hell, he’s got four of a kind, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t four aces. I mean, you seen how slow he’s been to bet. You know damn well he wouldn’t be bettin’ no two hunnert dollars if he didn’t have hisself a winnin’ hand.”
By now, the stakes of the game had grown high enough to attract the attention of everyone else in the saloon, and there were several men standing around the table, watching the game with intense interest.
“He’s bluffin', Stillwater,” one of the onlookers said. “Hell, I can tell by lookin’ at him that he’s bluffin'. Call his hand.”
“You got two hunnert dollars?” Stillwater asked.
The man shook his head. “This ain’t my game,” he said. “But if it was my game, I’d call him.”
“Really? Don’t forget, this is the fella who wouldn’t even raise a full house. Is that what you’ve got, Clark? A full house?”
“It can’t be a full house,” Conklin said. “Look at the way he has them cards lyin’ there. Four to one side, and one to the other.”
“It’s like I said,” McWorthy said. “He’s got four of a kind.”
“What are you going to do, Stillwater?” one of the bystanders asked. “You can’t just sit there all night.”
“Will somebody lend me two hunnert dollars?” Stillwater called out. “Anybody?”
The room was quiet for a long moment.
“I will,” Cindy said.
A huge smile spread across Stillwater’s face. “Ha! I know’d that when it come right down to it, you would come back over to my side.”
“If you win, I’ll take the money right now,” Cindy said. “But if you lose, then I’m going to want to be repaid four hundred dollars.”
“What makes you think I have four hundred dollars?”
“Maybe you don’t have it right now, but you’ll be doing another job with Frank Dodd soon, and when you do, I’ll expect my four hundred.”
“All right,” Stillwater said. “It’s a deal.”
“Jules, you might want to think about this for a bit,” Conklin cautioned.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at where she has been standin',” Conklin said. “You think she don’t know what his hand is? Now, you got to ask yourself, is she doin’ this just so she can get a cut of your money next time we do a job? She might just be tryin’ to sucker you in.”
“Yeah,” Stillwater said. He stroked his chin and stared across the table at Clark. “You think you’ve got me in your sights, don’t you?”
“I’m just trying to learn the game,” Clark answered innocently.
“All right, all right, the pot’s yours,” Stillwater said, turning his cards up on the table. He had a full house, aces over jacks. “What have you got?”
Clark’s cards stayed facedown on the table just the way he left them, four in one pile, one in another. He reached out to rake in his pot.
“I asked you a question, mister. What have you got?” Stillwater asked again. He reached for Clark’s cards, but Clark caught him around the wrist with a vise grip.
“Huh-uh. I don’t know all that much about this game, but I know that if you don’t pay, you don’t see. You didn’t pay, so you don’t see them,” Clark said easily.
With his other hand, Stillwater slid a twenty-dollar bill across the table.
“Is that enough to let me see?”
“I reckon so. Like I said, if you’re willing to pay for it.” Clark turned up his cards. Instead of four of a kind, there were two small pairs.
“What? I had a full house! You didn’t have me beat! “ Stillwater said angrily.
“Well, now, let’s think about that, Stillwater,” Clark said. “You are right, my cards didn’t beat your cards but I did beat you,” Clark said. “It’s called running a bluff.” He smiled up at Cindy. “What do you think, Cindy? It looks like he won’t be spending any of my money on you after all. But that’s all right. I’ll spend some of his money on you.”
“Mister, I ain’t goin’ to forget this,” Stillwater said angrily. He stood up, then walked quickly, and angrily, out of the saloon.
Everyone in the saloon was quiet as Stillwater left. Then Conklin looked over at Clark.
“Kid, he’s my pard, and I ride with him,” Conklin said. “But I got to tell you, he ain’t the kind you want on your bad side. If I was you, I’d be mighty careful around him from now on.”
“Thanks,” Clark said. “I’ll heed your advice.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Cloverdale is a nice town,” Doc Baker was saying. “That’s why I moved my practice here. Right now we are at end-of-track, but if they ever continue it on into California, as I believe they will, it will be an even nicer town.”
“It would be nicer now if it weren’t for Wallace,” Nabors said.
“Tell me about this sheriff,” Smoke said.
“I saw a word one time that fits this sheriff,” Nabors said. “The word was potentate. That’s what this sheriff thinks he is.”
“But he was elected, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, he was elected all right,” Doc Baker said. “And if you would ask the average person on the street what kind of job they think he is doing, they would probably say he is doing a good job. He keeps his jail full of drunks, people who spit on the street, deadbeats, and the like. But all the time he is doing that, people like Frank Dodd and his gang operate with impunity.”
“Impunity,” Nabors said, laughing. “Now, you see here, Smoke? That’s why I like to keep the doc on as my friend. How many people do you know who can use a word like impunity?”
Smoke thought of his wife, Sally, back at Sugarloaf. A former schoolteacher, and the smartest person he had ever known. Impunity would be one of her words. He smiled.
“It’s a good word all right,” he agreed.
“That’s him,” someone suddenly yelled, his shout having the effect of bringing all other conversation to a halt.
Looking toward the sound of the shout, Smoke saw Dawes standing just inside the saloon, holding his bandaged hand. He let go of it long enough to point Smoke out to a man wearing a badge. Smoke recognized him as the same man he had seen on the railroad track, shortly after the cowboy, Andy Emerson, had been killed. It was Sheriff Wallace.
“That’s the man who shot me.”
“Is that true, mister?” Wallace asked. “Did you shoot Mr. Dawes?”
“I did.”
“Wait a minute, I know you. You’re the fella I met who had just cam
e in on the train after the little ruckus with Andy Emerson, aren’t you? You’re the one who was interfering with the law.”
“We’ve met,” Smoke said.
“Well, I don’t know where you came from, mister. But in Nye County, we got us a law against shootin’ folks.”
“Yes, that’s been my observation in most places I’ve been,” Smoke replied. “But from what I have seen here, it evidently does not apply to people who are wearing a badge. I notice that you had no compunctions about killing that unarmed cowboy. ”
The sheriff, who was probably three inches taller and eighty pounds heavier than Smoke, got an irritated look on his face.
“Mister, I’ve only met you twice, and you’ve put a burr under my saddle both times.”
“What do you mean, Sheriff? I haven’t been belligerent.”
“No, but you always seem to have something smart to say.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve been too smart. I know how difficult it can be for someone like you to have to deal with intelligent comments. I’ll try and bring it down,” Smoke said.
Minnie, Doc, and Nabors tried hard to smother their smiles.
“Just as long as you understand,” the sheriff said, totally unaware that he just been mocked. “Why did you shoot Dawes?”
“Because he was shooting at me,” Smoke replied.
“He’s tellin’ the truth, Sheriff Wallace,” Doc Baker said. “Dawes came in here shooting.”
“That’s right, Sheriff,” Nabors added. “And I aim to sue him for a new table and a new stovepipe. Look here what he did.” Nabors pointed to the hole in the tabletop, and another in the stovepipe.
“Can anyone else back that up?” Sheriff Wallace asked.
“I can back it up, Sheriff,” the bartender said. He pointed to Dawes. “Truth to tell, it’s a plumb wonder Dawes didn’t get hisself shot dead. Most anyone else would have kilt him. But this feller, just as calm as a summer day, shot the gun right out of his hand. Then, when Dawes tried to pick it up, this feller shot again, only this time what he done was, his bullet pushed the gun all the way across the floor. ”
Shootout of the Mountain Man Page 14