Crossing the Line

by J. R. Roberts

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  The drinks came and the next hand was dealt moments before the owner announced that it would be the last of both for the day. The cowboy was the first to act and when he looked at his cards, he winced. It was an obvious tell, but had proven to be an accurate one. “I bet five,” the kid said.

  Picking up on the tell and too tired to be sly about it, Mack threw in a handful of chips. “Another twenty.”

  Wendell looked at his cards a few times, reached for his chips, checked his cards again, and then called.

  Clint checked his hand. When he pushed his chips in, he made sure to glare at the kid and then snap a quick look over to Mack. The first man was already shaky, so intimidating him wasn’t hard. The second man didn’t quite know whether to attribute Clint’s confidence to the cards he’d been dealt or the beer he’d been drinking.

  After silently checking his cards, Bull tossed them away. He might not have been much of a risk-taker, but he knew the game and could read the players well enough to come out slightly ahead by the end of the night. He held on to the deck and dealt the next round. The cowboy took three cards, Mack stood pat, Wendell took two, and Clint took one.

  “Twenty to me, huh?” the kid asked. “Any of you fellas trying to bluff me?”

  Without taking his eyes from Clint, Mack said, “You don’t want to call, boy. So don’t.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” The cowboy tossed away his cards and stood up. “Do I just leave my chips here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right, then.”

  Mack didn’t take any pleasure in shoving the kid out of the game so easily. He simply looked at his cards once, set them down, and then folded his hands over them like a small tomb marking their final resting place. “How much you got left, Adams?”

  “Not quite as much as you,” Clint replied.

  “Have you even looked at that other card you were dealt?”

  Tapping the neat stack of cards in front of him, Clint shrugged. “Don’t need to.”

  “You haven’t looked at it. If your hand was so good already, you wouldn’t have needed another one. So you’re waiting for me? Fine. The bet’s a hundred.”

  Where Clint had yet to look at his replacement card, Wendell couldn’t stop looking at his. Now that the bet had been made, he looked at them twice as much. Finally, he shook his head and shoved his cards toward Bull. “You two are going to fight this out, so I won’t get caught in the middle. It’s too late for that kind of nonsense.”

  “It’s never too late for any kind of nonsense,” Clint replied. “I raise another fifty.”

  That caused one of Bull’s eyebrows to rise. Although he didn’t say much, he clearly enjoyed watching antics like this one at his table.

  Mack, on the other hand, wasn’t enjoying himself much at all. Every muscle in his face tightened up, and he lifted one finger to rub idly under his nose. Every other second, his eyes darted to the top card on Clint’s stack. “You haven’t looked at that card. I know it.”

  Clint knew it too, but merely took another drink of beer and stretched his feet out as if he was content to sit there all night and all day.

  “You’re a good player, Adams,” Mack said, more to himself than to Clint. “You gotta have something to be in this hand, but it can’t be better than what I got. You’re just trying to make me think too hard about this, aren’t you? You think I’m tired or you picked up something along the way to make you think I wouldn’t call a raise like this.” Suddenly, Mack nodded. “All right, then. What if I raised another sixty?”

  “You sure about that?” Clint asked. “That’ll put just about everything you took away from Bull and the kid into the middle of the table.”

  If Mack had been looking for a flinch from Clint, he didn’t get it. “Four of a kind, huh?” he speculated. “Or is it just two pair? Were you fishing for something or do you already have a big hand?” When he still didn’t get a reaction from Clint, Mack pushed in fifty dollars’ worth of chips and said, “All right, then. I’ll just call. I’ve got a straight to the jack. Can you beat it?”

  “Well, let’s see about that.” Clint turned over the four cards he’d kept to reveal the three, five, nine, and ten of spades.

  Mack’s face darkened and he scowled at the cards in disbelief. “You called with that? You didn’t even look at your other card and you raised? I watched you! You didn’t look at your fifth card yet! How could you do something that stupid?”

  Casually, Clint flipped over the single card he’d asked for. It was the deuce of spades. “Looks like it was a smart play after all.”

  While Clint raked in the chips, Mack leaned back and shook his head. “You’re either real crazy or real stupid.”

  “You didn’t have me pegged for either, did you?”

  “No, sir. I sure didn’t.”

  “That’s the beauty of poker,” Clint said with a grin. “Don’t you just love this game?”

  TWELVE

  “What in the hell was the meaning of that?” Delilah asked as she stomped after Clint.

  He’d left Pace’s and had just crossed the street when the tall brunette all but ambushed him. “I gambled,” he said in his defense. “That’s part of the game, you know.”

  “Gambling is one thing. That was almost a disaster! You could have lost almost all your money on that last hand! You could have ended your entire tournament!”

  Clint locked eyes with her and spoke in a measured tone. “Those things can happen whether I look at my cards or not. Poker’s not just about who has the best hand. It’s about playing against the other people at the table.”

  “I know that,” she said angrily. “But you don’t make a raise without even knowing what the hell you’ve got.”

  Sighing, Clint shrugged his shoulders and said, “I admit, I didn’t think he’d call that last one. Since he did, that shows me a lot about him and the way he bets. If you want to find out all you can about another player, you’ve got to get your hands dirty.”

  “You only won because of blind luck,” she snarled.

  “That’s a big part of poker too. Besides,” he added as he pulled her closer and dropped his voice to something just above a whisper, “that last hand drove Mack even crazier than it did you. He’s got a good head for odds and percentages. He watches everything and thinks he’s got every angle figured. Seeing me play like that against him jammed a nice little burr under his saddle. Seeing me win will eat at him for every second of every hour until the next hand is dealt.”

  As if to prove his point, Mack left Pace’s and headed toward one of the nearby hotels. Even from across the street, Clint and Delilah could hear his boots pounding against the boardwalk as he hissed a stream of obscenities to himself.

  “Rather than try to outthink someone who already knows the angles,” Clint explained, “it’s sometimes better to show them a few angles they’d never considered.”

  “He sure does look pissed,” Delilah said.

  “Yep.”

  “And you did take a bite out of his chip stack.”

  “He’ll recover from that well enough,” Clint told her. “Just like I would have recovered if I hadn’t gotten that fifth spade.”

  For the first time since she’d stormed after him, Delilah calmed down. “You were planning for what to do after losing that hand?”

  “Of course. Nobody makes any big wins without risking some big losses.”

  “And that was your way of getting under Mack’s skin?”

  “Yep. Also,” Clint added, “I was getting bored.”

  All of the grief that had been on her face before returned in full force. There was even some redness and swollen veins in her forehead to go along with it. “Do you know how much this tournament is costing me?”

  “Yes. You mentioned that.”

  “Did I also mention I upped the bet on you? If you get knocked out this soon, I’ll be in debt to a lot of people for a long time.”

&
nbsp; “That’s your problem,” Clint said. “Next time you want to wager more of your money or credit or whatever, you should ask me first.”

  “And when I do?”

  “I’ll advise against it,” Clint replied.

  She looked as if she was going to explode, but eventually reined it in. “Now you’re trying to get under my skin, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  Before she could reply to that, Delilah was cut short by some commotion coming from Pace’s Emporium. The front door slammed open and Carl hurried outside. The commotion came from the men that followed him outside.

  “Don’t you walk out on me!” George snarled. He was flanked by the same two men that had backed him up before, which made him talk louder and strut with more confidence than when he’d been alone. “You hear me, nigger? Stand still when I’m addressing you!”

  Carl started to straighten up, but quickly hunkered down again and quickened his steps.

  “What does he want with Carl?” Clint asked.

  Delilah shook her head. “Nothing that’s rightfully coming to him, that’s for certain. He had words with Carl a few times during the tournament, but I don’t know what was said. All Carl would tell me was that it was a personal matter.”

  “Do you think they’ll try to hurt him?”

  “I hope not.”

  Clint stepped away from her and into the street. “That’s not good enough.”

  THIRTEEN

  “Excuse me, Carl,” Clint said as he planted his feet and squared his shoulders to all four men. “Mind if I have a word with you?”

  Carl glanced in Clint’s direction, but stopped when he got a good look at who’d asked the question. A smile started to come across his face, but quickly disappeared. “Now might not be such a good time, Mister Adams.”

  “Yeah,” George said. “Now’s not a good time. Keep your nose out of our business.”

  “What business is that?” Clint asked. “Hounding an unarmed man? I guess it’s not enough that he’s not carrying a gun, but you’ve also got to outnumber him three to one. That’s some real brave business you’re conducting.”

  George furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth. “I said get out of my sight, so that’s what you’d best do.”

  “I don’t take orders from you,” Clint said.

  Judging by the expression on George’s face, he didn’t cross paths with too many men who defied him with such ease. “You don’t, huh? Then how about following a polite suggestion? Get the fuck out of my sight . . . please.”

  The other two men with George found that amusing. They liked it even more when Clint said, “All right. Since you said please, I suppose we can part ways. Just be sure to mind your manners.”

  With that, Clint tipped his hat and walked away. Delilah tried talking to him, but Clint simply took her by the arm and dragged her along.

  George and his two followers watched Clint for a bit, but let him go when Carl started walking down the street again. “Hey!” George snapped. “I ain’t through with you! Get back here. Hey boy! I told you to get back here.”

  Carl shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hunched over. In a matter of seconds, George slapped a hand down upon his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks. “You owe me for when you cheated me at that goddamn faro game.”

  “Nobody cheated you,” Carl said.

  “I been getting cheated at faro and now I’m getting cheated at poker, so don’t try to tell me any different!”

  “I can’t speak for what’s been done at the poker table, but my faro game is fair and square.”

  “Oh, is it now? What do you think the owner of that place will say when I tell him his nigger bean counter has been cheating a good customer?”

  “Wh- . . . when he finds out you’re the customer, he’ll know better than to believe that mess of lies.”

  George reacted to that as if he’d been suddenly rapped on the nose. The two men flanking him bristled like dogs protecting a fresh kill.

  “You got something to say to Mister Pace, then you say it to him,” Carl said. “Now I’ve got to be on my way.”

  “You ain’t goin’ anywhere,” George said as he spun Carl around and then buried his fist into the man’s stomach.

  Carl doubled over and expelled a gust of air. The biggest of George’s companions delivered a quick kick to Carl’s face, and the other one pulled a knife from a sheath that hung from his belt. He raised the blade up over his head and would have brought it down again if his progress hadn’t been stopped by someone grabbing that wrist in a tight grip.

  “Now this isn’t at all polite,” Clint said as he twisted the man’s hand and forced him to drop the knife he’d been holding. Without letting go of that wrist, Clint brought the man’s arm up and back before stomping his heel into the guy’s shin. Not only did the man howl in pain from the stomp, but he was taken off his balance enough to send him toppling over backward.

  As soon as the knife hit the street, Clint kicked it under the boardwalk. Like a dog that had been cut loose, George’s second partner lunged at him. Rather than sidestep the charging man, Clint lunged straight at him with an outstretched arm. Not only did he get to the charging man quicker than expected, but Clint hit him with enough force to knock him clean off his feet. The impact sent a painful wave all the way up through his shoulder, but Clint didn’t let that dim the fierceness in his eyes.

  “This ain’t your business, Adams!” George bellowed. “But you’re about to force my hand.”

  “About to force your hand?” Clint replied. “I thought I did that well enough by dropping your two associates here.”

  George’s hand drifted toward his gun. “My boys and I weren’t gonna make this a shooting matter.”

  “And I wasn’t going to put a bullet into your back,” Clint pointed out. “You push this any farther and you and your men will take more than a few bruises home to remind you what happened tonight.”

  “Walk away,” George warned.

  Looking over to Carl, Clint watched the quiet man straighten up and hold his midsection. “What’s all this about, anyway?”

  George sneered and said, “This one owes me for—”

  “I wasn’t talking to you!” Clint barked in a voice that rolled down the street and practically cut George off at the knees. Shifting his eyes back to Carl, Clint lowered his voice to a more civil tone and asked, “What’s this about, Carl?”

  “He wants more chips for the tournament,” Carl replied.

  “So maybe he should learn to play better poker.”

  “He wants me to put them on his stack so they’re waiting for him when the next round starts. He says he’ll forget about talking to Mister Pace if I do that.”

  Clint nodded slowly and looked over to George. “So, after all this talk about being cheated, you want someone to help you cheat? That would be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

  “Pathetic?” George said. “If I wasn’t cheated before, I’d be in better shape now. Leastways, I wouldn’t have to scrape and crawl to put together the entry fee.”

  “If you couldn’t afford seventy-five dollars, you shouldn’t be in the tournament.”

  “That’s what I said,” Carl chimed in.

  George vehemently turned on the black man and snarled, “You can’t say a damn thing to me, boy! I’ll have your help or I’ll have your hide.”

  “You’ll shut your damn mouth and go home,” Clint said. “Or do I need to kick you and your boys around some more to put you in the right frame of mind?”

  The other two men had gotten up and stood facing Clint. They looked ready for a fight, but they weren’t about to jump without being told to do so. Even as he backed away, George stabbed his finger at Carl as he said, “I know where to find you, asshole. I won’t ask for any help with the tournament, because you’d probably just go squealing to Mister Pace anyhow. But I will have the money back that you cheated from me. I’ll have it in cash or I’ll make your bitch sister work it o
ff for me the hard way.”

  Shaking his head, Clint asked, “Are you really too stupid to know when to quit?”

  Nodding smugly, George motioned to his two associates and said, “Come on. Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone.”

  The three men put on a tough act for the first few steps. Once they got a little farther away, they were more than happy to rush around a corner and out of Clint’s line of fire.

  FOURTEEN

  Carl walked along the side of the street, shaking his head and muttering, “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

  Walking beside him, Clint replied, “Would you rather I just stand back and let them kill you?”

  “They wouldn’t have killed me. Just scared me.”

  “One of them drew a knife.”

  Stopping and hunching over, Carl wrapped his arms across his belly as if he was about to vomit.

  “What are you carrying?” Clint asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “What is it? Are you carrying something George and those others were after?”

  Dropping his voice to a harsh whisper, Carl said, “It’s some of the money from the tournament fees. Mister Pace trusts me to take them to the bank because nobody pays me any attention anyhow. He says it’s like I’m invisible around here.”

  Now that he’d spotted the bundle tucked under Carl’s jacket, Clint asked, “How much are you carrying?”

  “Little more than half of the fees.”

  “And he doesn’t let you carry a gun?”

  Carl shook his head. “I tried carrying a gun when I first came to town. That just stirred up more trouble than it was worth. Mister Pace is right. I am invisible around here. Folks hardly tolerate me, so there’s no reason for anyone to assume I’d be trusted with any money.”

  “Mind if I walk with you to the bank?”

  “Guess not.”

  Clint fell into step with the other man and looked about. The streets were all but empty, and the folks who did see Carl mostly nodded at him. “From what I can tell, people around here like you well enough.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Is this what you came to me for earlier?” Clint asked. “To make sure you get that money to the bank?”