Tex

by B. M. Bower

  *CHAPTER XIII*

  *OUTCHEATING CHEATERS*

  Gus Williams left the supper table, where he had held forth volubly uponthe subject of dynamite, in his almost lecture to the other diners, someof whom knew more about it than he did, and walked ponderously towardthe poker table for his usual evening's game. Seating himself at theplace which by tacit consent had become his own, he idly shuffled andreshuffled the cards and finally began a slow and laborious game ofsolitaire to while away the time until his cronies should join him.This game had become a fixture of the establishment, played for lowstakes but with great seriousness, and often ran into the morning hours.

  The rest of the diners tarried inexplicably at the plate-littered table,engaged in a discussion of stud poker and of their respective abilitiesin playing it, and of winnings they had made and seen made. It slowlybut surely grew acrimonious, as any such discussion is prone to amongidle men who are very much in each other's company.

  The new marshal sat a little apart from the eager disputants, taking noshare in the wrangling. Finally Sinful, scorning a shouted ruling on ahypothetical question concerning the law of averages, turned suddenlyand appealed to the marshal, whose smiling reply was not a confirmationof the appellant's claim.

  Sinful glared at his disappointing umpire. "A lot you know about stud!"he retorted. "Bet you can't even play mumbly-peg!"

  "That takes a certain amount of skill," rejoined Tex without heat. "Instud it's how th' cards fall."

  Hank laughed sarcastically. "Averages don't count? We'll just start alittle game an' I'll show you how easy stud-hoss is. Come on, boys:we'll give th' marshal a lesson. Clear away them dishes."

  All but Sinful held back, saying that they had no money for gambling,but they were remarkably eager to watch the game.

  Sinful snorted. "Huh! Two-hand is no good. I'm honin' for a littlestud-hoss for a change. It's been nothin' but draw in this town.Reckon stud's too lively to suit most folks: takes nerve to ride a fastgame. A man can have a-plenty of nerve one way, an' none a-tall anotherway. Fine bunch of paupers!"

  Hank's disgust was as great. "Fine bunch of paupers," he repeated."An' them as ain't busted is scared. You called th' turn, Sinful: itshore does take nerve--more'n mumbly-peg, anyhow. A three-hand gamewould move fast--_too_ fast for these coyotes."

  "Don't you let th' old mosshead git off with that, Marshal!" cried aminer, "Wish _I_ had some dust: I'd cussed soon show 'em!"

  Tex was amused by the baiting. Hardly an eye had left him while thewhole discussion was going on, even the two principals looking at himwhen they spoke to each other. He looked from one old reprobate to theother, and let his smile become a laugh as he moved up to the table, amotion which was received by the entire group with sighs of relief andsatisfaction.

  "I reckon it's my luck ag'in' yore skill," he said; "but I can't setback an' be insulted this way. I'm a public character, now, an' has gotto uphold th' dignity of th' law. Get a-goin', you fellers."

  Sinful and Hank, simultaneously slamming their gold bags on the table,reached for the cards at the same time and a new wrangle threatened.

  "Cut for it," drawled Tex, smiling at the expectant, hopeful facesaround the table. Williams' irritable, protesting cough was unheededand, Hank dealing, the game got under way. Tex honorably could haveshot both of his opponents in the first five minutes of play, but simplycheated in turn and held his own. At the end of an hour's excitement hewas neither winner nor loser, and he shoved back from the table insimulated disgust. He scorned to take money so tragically needed, andhe had determined to lose none of his own.

  "This game's so plumb fast," he ironically observed, "that I ain't wonor lost a dollar. You got my sportin' blood up, an' I ain't goin' toinsult it by playin' all night for nothin'. I told you stud was onlyluck: That skill you was talkin' about ain't showed a-tall. If there'sanybody here as wants a _real_ game I'm honin' to hear his voice."

  "Can you hear mine?" called Williams, glaring at the disappointed studplayers and their friends. "There's a real game right here," hedeclared, pounding the table, "with real money an' real nerve! Besides,I got a hoss to win back, an' I want my revenge."

  Tex turned to the group and laughed, playfully poking Sinful in theribs. "Hear th' cry of th' lobo? He's lookin' for meat. Our friendWilliams has been savin' his money for Tex Jones, an' I ain't got th'heart to refuse it. Bring yore community wealth an' set in, you an'Hank. Though if you can't play draw no better'n you play stud you oughtto go home."

  "I cut my teeth on draw," boasted Sinful. He turned and slapped hispartner on the shoulder. "Come on, Hank!" he cried. "Th' lone wolf ishowlin' from th' timber line an' his pelt's worth money. Let's go gitit!"

  They swept down on the impatient Williams, their silent partnersbringing up the rear, and clamored for action. Tex lighting a freshlyrolled cigarette, faced the local boss, Hank on his right and Sinful onhis left, the eager onlookers settling behind their champions. Thethin, worried faces of the miners appealed to the marshal, their obviousneed arousing a feeling of pity in him; and then began a game which wasas much a credit to Tex as any he ever had played. He rubbed thesaliva-soaked end of his cigarette between finger and thumb and gave allhis attention to the game.

  Williams won on his own deal, cutting down the gold of the two miners.On Hank's deal he won again and the faces of the old prospectors beganto tense. Tex dealt in turn and after a few rounds of betting Williamsdropped out and the game resolved itself into a simulated fiercelyfought duel between the miners, who really cared but little which ofthem won. Hank finally raked in the stakes. Sinful shuffled and Texcut. Williams forced the betting but had to drop out, followed by Tex,and the dealer gleefully hauled in his winnings. Again Williamsshuffled, his expression vaguely denoting worry. He made a sharp remarkabout one of the onlookers behind Tex and all eyes turned instinctively.The miner retorted with spirit and Williams suddenly smiledapologetically.

  "My mistake, Goldpan," he admitted. "Let's forget it, an' let th' gameproceed."

  Tex deliberately had allowed his attention to be called from the gameand when he picked up his cards he was mildly suspicious, for Williams'remark had been entirely uncalled for. He looked quickly for the nineof clubs or the six of hearts, finding that he had neither. He passedand sat back, smiling at the facial contortions of Hank and the blankimmobility of Sinful's leathery countenance. Hank dropped out on thenext round and after a little cautious betting Sinful called and threwdown his hand. Williams spread his own and smiled. That smile was tocost him heavily, for in his club flush lay the nine spot, guiltless ofthe tobacco smudge which Tex had rubbed on its face in the first hand hehad been dealt.

  Tex wiped the tips of his sensitive fingers on his trousers and becamevoluble and humorous. As he picked up his cards, one by one as theydropped from Hank's swiftly moving hand, he first let his gaze linger alittle on their backs, and his fingers slipped across the corners ofeach. Williams had cheated before with a trimmed deck and now themarshal grimly determined to teach him a lesson, and at the same timenot arouse the suspicions of the boss against the new marshal. With theswitching of the decks Williams had set a pace which would grow too fastfor him. Marked cards suited Tex, especially if they had been marked byan opponent, who would have all the more confidence in them. After afew deals if he wouldn't know each card as well as a man like Williams,whose marking could not be much out of the ordinary, and certainly notvery original, then he felt that he deserved to get the worst of theplay. He once had played against a deck which had been marked by theengraver who designed the backs, and he had learned it in less than anhour. So now he prepared to enjoy himself and thereafter bet lightlywhen Williams dealt, but on each set of hands dealt by himself one ofthe prospectors always won, and with worthy cards. Worthy as were theirhands they were only a shade better than those held by the proprietor ofthe hotel and the general store. One hand alone cost Williams ov
ereighty dollars, three others were above the seventy-dollar mark and hewas losing his temper, not only because of his losses, but also becausehe did not dare to cheat too much on his own deal. Tex's eyes twinkledat him and Tex's rambling words hid any ulterior motive in the keenscrutiny. Finally, driven by desperation, Williams threw caution to thewinds and risked detection. He was clever enough to avoid grounds foropen accusation, but both of the miners suddenly looked thoughtful and amoment later they exchanged significant glances. Thereafter no one betheavily when Williams dealt.

  The finish came when Tex had dealt and picked up his hand. Sinfulstolidly regarded the cheery faces of three kings--spades, clubs, andhearts. Williams liked the looks of his two pairs, jacks up. Hankrolled his huge cud into the other cheek and tried to appear mournful atthe sight of the queen, ten, eight, and five of hearts. Tex laid downhis four-card spade straight and picked up the pack.

  "Call 'em, boys," he said.

  Sinful's two cards, gingerly lifted one at a time from the table,pleased him very much, although from all outward signs they might havebeen anything in the card line. They were the aces of diamonds andclubs. He sighed, squared the hand, and placed it face down on thetable before him. Williams gulped when he added a third jack to his twopairs, and Hank nearly swallowed his tobacco at sight of the prayed-for,but unexpected, appearance of another heart. All eyes were on thedealer. He put down the deck and picked up his hand for another look atit. After a moment he put it down again, sadly shaking his head.

  "Good enough as it is," he murmured. "I ain't havin' much luck, one wayor th' other; an' I'm gettin' tired! of th' cussed game."

  "Dealer pat?" sharply inquired Williams, suspicion glinting in his eyes.

  "Pat, an' cussed near flat," grunted Tex. "Go on with her. I'll trailalong with what I got, an' quit after this hand."

  Notwithstanding the dealer's pat hand and his expression of resignation,the betting was sharp and swift. On the first round, being forty-odddollars ahead, Tex saw the accumulated raises and had enough left out ofhis winnings to raise five dollars. He tossed it in and leaned back,watching each face in turn. Sinful was not to be bluffed by any pathand at this stage of the play, no matter how craftily it was bet. Hereflected that straights, flushes, and full houses could be held pat, aswell as threes or two pairs, all of which he had beat. A straight flushor fours were the only hands he could lose to, and Williams had notdealt the cards. Pat hands were sometimes pat bluffs, more terrifyingto novices than to old players. He saw the raise and shoved out another,growling: "Takes about twenty more to see this circus."

  Williams hesitated, looking at the dealer's neat little stack of cards.He was convinced from the way Tex had acted that the pat hand was abluff, for its owner had not been caught bluffing since the gamestarted, which indicated that he had labored to establish the reputationof playing only intrinsic hands, which would give a later bluff a strongand false value. He saw and raised a dollar, hoping that someone woulddrop out. Hank disappointed him by staying in and boosting anotherdollar. They both were feeling their way along. Hank also believed thepat hand to be worthless; and worthless it was, for Tex tossed it fromhim, face down, and rammed his hands into his pockets.

  Sinful heaved a sigh of relief, which was echoed by the others, squintedfrom his hand to the faces of the two remaining players, and grinnedsardonically. "Bluffs are like crows; they live together in flocks. Inever quit when she's comin' my way. Grab a good holt for anotherraise! She's ten higher, now."

  With the disturbing pat hand out of it, which was all the moredisturbing because it had belonged to the dealer, Williams gave morethought to the players on his left and right. He decided that Hank wasthe real danger and that Sinful's words were a despairing effort to winby the default of the others. He saw the raise and let it go as it was.Hank rolled the cud nervously and with a sudden, muttered curse, threwdown his hand. A flush had no business showing pride and fight in thisgame, he decided. Sinful grinned at him across the table.

  "Terbaccer makin' you sick, Hank?" he jeered. "I'm raisin' ten more,jest to keep th' corpse alive. He-he-he!"

  There was now too much in the pot to give it up for ten dollars andWilliams met the raise, swore, and called, "What you got, you devil fromh--l?"

  "I got quite a fambly," chuckled Sinful, laying down a pair of aces."There's twin brothers," he said, looking up.

  Williams snorted at the old man's pleasure in not showing his whole handat once, and he tossed three jacks on the table. "Triplets in mine," hereplied.

  Sinful raised his eyebrows and regarded them accusingly. "Three jackscan tote quite some load if it's packed right," he said. "Th' rest ofmy fambly is three more brothers, an' they bust th' mules' backs. Ain'tgot th' extry jack, have you?"

  Slamming the rest of the cards on the table Williams arose and without aword walked to the bar. Sinful's. cackles of joy were added to by hisfriends and they surrounded the table to help in the division of thespoils, in plain sight of all.

  "Win or lose, Marshal?" demanded Sinful shrilly above the hubbub ofvoices.

  "Lost a couple of dollars," bellowed Tex.

  "Much obliged for 'em," rejoined Sinful. He looked at Hank, winked andsaid: "Marshal's been real kind to us, Hank," and Tex never was quitecertain of the old man's meaning.

  Williams looked around as Tex leaned against the bar. "How'd _you_ comeout?" he asked, his face showing his anger.

  "I lost," answered Tex carelessly. "Not anythin' to speak of: a fewdollars, I reckon. I told 'em two dollars, for they're swelled up withpride as things are. They must 'a' got into you real heavy."

  Williams sneered. "Heavy for them, I reckon. I ain't limpin'. Theygot too cussed much luck."

  "Luck?" muttered the marshal, gazing inquiringly at the glass of whiskeyhe had raised from the bar, as though it might tell him what he wantedto know. "I ain't so shore of that, Williams," he slowly said. "Themold sour-doughs get snowed in near every winter, up in th' hills; an'then they ain't got nothin' to do but eat, sleep, swap lies, an' playcards. Somethin' tells me there wasn't a whole lot of luck in it. Iknow I had all I could do to stay in th' saddle without pullin'leather--an' I ain't exactly cuttin' my teeth where poker is concerned.Listen to 'em, will you? Squabblin' like a lot of kids. I reckon theyhad this cooked up in grand style. They're all sharin' in th' winnin's,you'll notice." He paused in surprise as a dull roar faintly shook theroom. "What's that?" he demanded sharply. "It can't be thunder!"

  His companion shook his head. "No, it ain't; it's that Murphy blowin'up rock, like I was sayin' at supper. Hope he went up with it!" Helaughed at a man who was just coming in, and who stopped dead in thedoor and listened to the rumble. "Yore shack's safe, Jake," he called."Th' Mick's blastin' over past yore way. You remember what I've toldyou!" he warned.

  Jake looked from the speaker to the careless, but inwardly alert, citymarshal, scowled, shuffled over to a table, and called for a drink,thereafter entirely ignoring the peace officer.

  Henry came in soon after and joined the two at the bar. "Yes, I'll haveth' same. You two goin' ridin' ag'in, Marshal?" he asked.

  Tex shrugged his shoulders. "It shore don't look like it. She mebbyfiggered me out. Anyhow, she slammed th' door plumb in my face." Hefrowned. "Somehow I don't get used to things like that. She could 'a'treated me like I wasn't no tramp, anyhow, couldn't she?"

  Henry smiled maliciously, and felt relieved. "They're shore puzzlin'.I hear that coyote Watkins was out there this afternoon. There wasn'tno door slammed in _his_ face." His little eyes glinted. "I see wherehe's goin' to learn a lesson, an' learn it for keeps!"

  "Oh, he got throwed, too," chuckled Tex, as if finding some balm inanother's woe. "He stopped off on his way home an' told me about it.Got a busted heart, an' belly-achin' like a sick calf. That's what heis; an' it's calf love, as well. Shucks! When I was his age I fell inlove with a different gal about every moon. Besides, he ain't gotmoney, nor prospects: an' she k
nows it."

  Henry took him by the arm and led him to a table in a far corner. "Ibeen thinkin' I mebby ought to send her a present, or somethin'," hesaid, watching his companion's face. "You, havin' more experience with'em, I figgered mebby you would help me out. _I_ don't know what to gether."

  "Weakenin' already," muttered the marshal, trying to hide a knowing,irritating smile. "Pullin' leather, an' ain't hardly begun to rideyet!"

  "I ain't pullin' no leather!" retorted Henry, coloring. "I reckon aman's got a right to give a present to his gal!"

  "Shore!" endorsed Tex heartily. "There ain't no question about it--whenshe comes right out an' admits that she is his gal. This Saunders womanain't admittin' it, yet; an' if she figgers that yo're weakenin' on yoreplay of ignorin' her, then she'll just set back an' hold you off so th'presents won't stop comin'. This is a woman's game, an' she can beat aman, hands down an' blindfolded: an' they know it. I tell you, Hennery,a wild cayuse that throws its first rider ain't no deader set on stayin'wild than a woman is set on makin' a man go through his tricks for herif she finds he's performin' for her private amusement, an' payin' forth' privilege, besides. It ain't no laughin' matter for you, Hennery;but I can't hardly keep _from_ laughin' when I think of you stayin' awayto get her anxious, an' then sendin' her presents! It's yore ownprivate affair, an' yo're runnin' it yore own way--but them's _my_ideas."

  Henry stared into space, gravely puffing on a cold cigarette. His low,furrowed brow denoted intense mental concentration, and the scowl whichgrew deeper did not suggest that his conclusions were pleasant. Thesimile regarding the wild horse sounded like good logic to him, for heprided himself that he knew horses. Finally he looked anxiously at hisdeeply thinking companion.

  "It sounds right, Marshal," he grudgingly admitted; "but it shore ishard advice to foller. I'm plumb anxious to buy her somethin' nice,somethin' she can't get in this part of th' country, an' somethin' shecan wear an' know come from me." He paused in some embarrassment andtried to speak carelessly. "If you was goin' to get a woman like hersome present--mind, I'm sayin' _if_--what would you get?"

  Tex reflected gravely. "Candy don't mean nothin'," he cogitated, in alow, far-away voice. "Anybody she knew at all could give her candy. Itdon't mean nothin' special, a-tall." He did not appear to notice howhis companion's face fell at the words. "Books are like candy--justcommon presents. A stranger almost could give 'em. Ridin' gloves is alittle nearer--but Tommy, or me, could give them to her. Stockin's?Hum: I don't know. They're sort of informal, at that. 'Tain'teverybody, however, could give 'em. Only just one man: get my idea?"

  "I shore do, Marshal," beamed Henry. "You see, livin' out here all mylife an' not 'sociatin' with wimmin--like her, anyhow--I didn't knowhardly what would be th' correct thing. Wonder what color?"

  Tex was somewhat aghast at his joke being taken so seriously. "Now, youlook here, Hennery!" he said in a warning voice. "You promise me not tosend her no stockin's till I says th' word." He had wanted to give Janemore reason to dislike the nephew, but hardly cared to have it go thatfar. "Stayin' away, are you? You make me plumb sick, you do! Stayin'away, h--l!"

  A roar of laughter came from the celebrating miners and all eyes turnedtheir way. Sinful and Hank were dancing to the music of a jew's-harpand the time set by stamping, hob-nailed boots. They parted, bowed,joined again, parted, courtesied and went on, hand in hand, turning andducking, backing and filing, the dust flying and the perspirationstreaming down. It seemed impossible that in these men lurked a bitterrace hatred, or that hearts as warm and happy could be incubating thegerms of cowardly murder. Not one of them, alone, would be guilty ofsuch a thing; but the spirit of a mob is a remarkable and terriblething, tearing aside civilization's training and veneer, and in a momenthurling men back thousands of years, back to the days when killing oftenwas its own reward.