Texas Bluff

by Robert J. Randisi

  “I have a few fellas comin’ to town that may interest you,” Short said.

  “Oh? Who?”

  “Let’s wait until they actually get here,” Short said. “Just stay around at least a couple more days. See the sights of Fort Worth.”

  “I’ve been around town,” Butler said.

  “Just don’t go into any of those downtown places,” Short said. “The city fathers are up in arms about gambling halls skinnin’ customers, and it’s none of our doin’. It’s those damned places. I ought to go down there and shoot a couple of them up.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “No, damn it, it ain’t,” Short said. “But it’s what I want to do. Hey.” He lit up like he just had a great idea. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “To shoot the places up.”

  “No, I’m havin’ a meetin’ down there this afternoon with a fella called Cramer. We got some business together. Come along.”

  “Why would you want me in on your business?”

  “Bat said you do a pretty fair job of watchin’ a fella’s back,” Short said. “I’m goin’ to Hell’s Half Acre—which, by the way, covers more like three acres. I think I need someone I can count on behind me.”

  “I’m flattered that you’d think of me, Luke,” Butler said. “Sure, I’d be happy to go with you. Am I going to need my horse?”

  “We can take a cab,” Short said. “Actually, we could probably walk it, but I think a cab would be better. I’ll have one out front at three o’clock. Meet me then, okay?”

  “Three o’clock, out front,” Butler said. “I’ll be there.”

  Butler made it back to the White Elephant early, so he went to the bar for a beer. The bartender who greeted him the first night came over with a smile.

  “Whataya have, Mr. Butler?”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Mr. Short made me memorize it,” the man said, “but I had it after the first time.”

  “And what’s your name?”

  “I’m Jerry.”

  “Well, Jerry, I’ll have one of those cold beers that freeze your hand.”

  “Comin’ up.”

  Jerry went down the bar and returned with a frosty mug.

  “Heard you and the boss were going to the Acre.”

  “Word gets around fast.”

  “Well, when somebody hates those places as much as Mr. Short does…You gonna help him shoot them up?”

  “Nobody’s going to shoot any place up, Jerry,” Butler said. “I’m just going to watch his back.”

  “Well, he’s gonna need it if you go there,” Jerry said. “Especially if he’s goin’ to see Cramer.”

  “He mentioned a man named Cramer.”

  “Yeah, he owns a few of those places downtown that are fleecin’ people,” Jerry said. “Mr. Short hates that. He likes to run a straight game. He don’t like when we get lumped in with those places in the newspapers.”

  “I can’t blame him for that,” Butler said, “but we’re still not going to shoot any place up.”

  “Well, maybe you can keep him from doin’ it,” Jerry said. “’Scuse me. More customers. Place is startin’ to fill up now.”

  Butler turned around with his beer in hand and saw that Jerry was right. The gaming tables were starting to fill up, and he wondered how things were going up in the casino. He knew Luke Short was running the casino upstairs, but he wondered if the dapper little gambler also had a piece of the few downstairs games. Wouldn’t seem worth his while, since most of the players at these games were penny-ante locals.

  He was half finished with the beer when he checked his watch and saw it was almost three. He didn’t know if he was supposed to watch Luke’s back or keep him from getting into trouble, but whichever it was he was ready.

  CHAPTER 14

  In the cab, Luke Short gave Butler a brief history of Fort Worth’s downtown, alternately called Hell’s Half Acre and the Bloody Third Ward.

  “Originally it was limited to Rusk Street, or the lower half of it, anyway, but lately it’s grown to include other streets like Main, Calhoun, and Jones. From north to south it covers Front to Seventh Street. The Fort Worth Democrat claims it now covers two-and-a-half acres.”

  Butler didn’t tell Short that he’d already heard some of this from Jerry the bartender.

  “It pisses me off when we get included in what the newspapers are decrying the Acre,” Short went on. “The White Elephant is nothing like these places.”

  “What are we doing here, Luke?” Butler asked.

  “I’m having a meeting with a man named Ed Cramer,” Short said, “not to be confused with my friend Nat Kramer, who runs the Cattle Exchange Saloon on Houston Street. Do you know Nat has never carried a gun, and has never had occasion to need one? I don’t know how he does it.”

  “Who knows?” Butler asked. “Maybe if we didn’t carry them we wouldn’t need them, either.”

  Short laughed and said, “If I didn’t wear my gun I’d be dead in ten minutes.”

  “You’re probably right,” Butler said. With the price that was still on his head, put there not by the law but by a private citizen, he probably wouldn’t last much longer than that.

  The cab pulled to a stop in front of a building on Rusk Street. As they alighted to the street Butler saw the name, the Bloody Spur Saloon, over the door.

  “Nice name,” he commented.

  “Actually,” Short said, “that is one of the nicer-named places down here.”

  The traffic on Rusk Street looked the same as any other street Butler had seen in Fort Worth. However, he’d been to enough red-light districts to know that the trouble started when the sun went down.

  “Let’s go inside,” Short said. “I have an appointment to talk to Cramer in about ten minutes. He’ll keep me waiting at least that long.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “I heard some rumors that Cramer has hired someone to harass our customers, maybe even come to our place and cause trouble. I want to try to cut him off at the pass, so to speak. Reason with him.”

  “Is he a reasonable man?”

  “Never has been before,” Short said, “but one can always hope. Just keep your eyes peeled for trouble while I do the talkin’.”

  “Gotcha.”

  They entered the place, attracted the eyes of several customers who were lounging against the bar. It was much smaller than the White Elephant—probably a quarter of the size—and the furnishings were unremarkable. In fact, the clientele appeared as rundown as the furniture and bar. And then there was the smell…

  “Jesus,” Short said, as the odor struck him.

  “Yeah.”

  The closest Butler could come to identifying it was vomit and sweat. He didn’t understand how anyone could drink, or even sit, in the place.

  “They’re used to it,” Short said, as if reading his mind.

  “How?”

  Short shrugged, led the way to the bar.

  “Would you tell your boss Luke Short is here to see him?” he asked the bartender.

  “Sure thing,” the man said. “You got an appointment?” He laughed, showing rotted stumps where his teeth used to be.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Short said.

  That seemed to disappoint the man, whose laughter abruptly stopped.

  “I’ll tell ’im,” he said, and left the bar.

  “Don’t have a drink in here,” Short whispered to Butler.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  The bartender walked to the back and went through a curtained doorway. Moments later he reappeared with another man. This one was much better dressed than anyone else in the place, but his suit did not come close to matching the caliber of Luke Short’s or Butler’s.

  “Hey, Luke, good to see you.” He approached with his hand held out for a handshake. Butler detected some hesitation in Short, who finally did shake hands.

  “How are you, Ed?”

  “Can’t
complain. Who’s your friend?” Cramer gave Butler a critical once over.

  “Friend of mine named Butler,” Short said. “I brought him to the Acre to see how the other half lives.”

  Cramer laughed.

  “Always the joker, Luke. You wanna come back to my office and talk?” Cramer asked.

  “Why don’t we just take a table near the back,” Short suggested.

  “Sure, Luke,” Cramer said. “You wanna stay out in the open, we can do that. How about your friend? Does he want to come along?”

  “No, he’ll stay at the bar.”

  “Fine. Hey, Zeke, give the man what he wants on the house.”

  “What’ll ya have?” the bartender asked as Short and Cramer walked to the back.

  “Whiskey,” Butler said.

  A least it would come from a bottle, and the liquor would kill whatever was in the glass—not that he intended to drink it.

  Butler noticed another doorway, this one way in the corner. He thought he saw part of a stairway. He also thought he saw a shadow. He decided to keep a wary eye on that spot. Cramer probably just had his own backup, there was no harm in that.

  Yet.

  CHAPTER 15

  The conversation between Cramer and Short seemed to start out amiably enough, but soon Short was getting red in the face. Butler was impressed that Cramer seemed to be keeping his composure.

  “Your boss keeps that up he’s gonna have a heart attack,” Zeke the bartender said.

  “He’s not my boss,” Butler said. “We’re friends.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Butler decided it didn’t matter what the bartender thought. He kept an eye on the two men at the table, and on that doorway in the corner.

  “What’s over there?” he asked Zeke.

  “Where?”

  “That doorway.” Butler pointed.

  “Oh,” Zeke said. “Stairway to upstairs.”

  “What’s upstairs?”

  Zeke grinned, showing more of his yellow and black stumps, and said, “Girls. You want one?”

  “Not from here.”

  “Best in town.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “You want a boy?” Zeke asked. “You one of them? We got them, too.”

  “I don’t think your boys would be any cleaner than your girls, do you?” Butler asked.

  “You sayin’ we got diseased whores here?”

  “I’m saying,” Butler replied, “that you probably have diseased whores here, yes.”

  “And I suppose the whores at the White Elephant are all clean, huh?”

  “There are no whores at the White Elephant,” Butler said.

  “Yeah, right,” the bartender said again.

  Butler decided it was useless talking to the man, but the bartender wouldn’t leave him alone.

  “You gonna drink that?” the man asked, indicating the whiskey. “Or afraid that’s dirty, too?

  “Yes.”

  The man grabbed the glass and drained it himself, then put it back with the other glasses without washing or even wiping it.

  Suddenly, there was some commotion from the corner. Luke Short stood up so fast his chair fell over. Cramer sat back in his chair and smiled, spreading his hands to show Short he wasn’t armed. Some of the customers looked over there but lost interest quickly.

  Zeke put his hand under the bar.

  “You come up with a gun I’m going to shove it up your ass,” Butler said.

  Zeke pulled his hand back as if he’d touched something very hot.

  Butler now had to watch Short, the bartender, and the doorway to the stairs. As Short’s voice got louder—Butler heard him call Cramer a “sonofabitch and whoremonger,”—Butler saw the shadow in the stairway move, and then the barrel of a gun poked out.

  “Don’t make a move,” he told Zeke as he pushed away from the bar. “Nobody has to get hurt here.”

  He quickly crossed the room, and as a hand appeared holding the gun he grabbed it by the wrist and yanked. The man came stumbling out of the stairway and, as he did, Butler drew his gun, pressing it to the man’s temple.

  “Drop it.”

  “I didn’t do nothin’.”

  “Sure,” Butler said, “you always walk around with a gun in your hand.”

  The man opened his hand and his gun hit the floor. Butler kicked it across the room.

  “Go stand with your friend at the bar,” he ordered.

  The man walked across the room and stood in front of the bar. Butler stayed where he was, because from there he could cover the whole room. He stole a look up the stairway, but there was nobody there.

  “Clear, Luke,” he said.

  “Is that what you had planned for me?” Short demanded of Cramer. “Bushwackin’ me?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with that, Luke,” Cramer claimed.

  Short pulled his gun, put his knee against Cramer’s chest and pressed the barrel against the man’s lips.

  “Open up, you sonofabitch,” he said.

  Slowly, Cramer opened his mouth and Short slid his gun barrel in.

  “You send anybody to the White Elephant to even spit on the floor,” he said, “I’ll come back here and blow the back of your head out. You understand? Nod your head if you do, but not too hard. This is a hair trigger. I don’t want to kill you accidentally.”

  Cramer nodded very slowly.

  Short slid the gun out of his mouth, but kept the hammer cocked.

  “Cover me, Butler,” Short said. “When I get to the door I’ll cover you.”

  “Right.”

  Butler kept the room covered, even though he thought the only two he had to worry about were the men at the bar. Cramer was still sitting in his chair, looking remarkably calm.

  “Okay,” Short said, and covered Butler as he crossed the room.

  “Remember what I said, Ed,” Short told Cramer.

  “I’ll remember everything that happened here today, Luke,” Cramer promised.

  Butler and Short backed out through the batwing doors. Once outside Short holstered his gun.

  “He won’t come out after us?” Butler asked.

  “No,” Short said, “he’ll send somebody else to do his fightin’ for him. Come on, let’s get a ways from here before we get a cab.

  Once Short and Butler were out of the saloon, Cramer’s man ran across the room and picked up his gun. As he started for the door Cramer stopped him.

  “But they’re gettin’ away, boss.”

  “You’ll just get yourself killed, Martin,” Cramer said. “You let that tinhorn gambler get the drop on you.”

  “He ain’t so—”

  “Shut up,” Cramer said. “I want to know who that gambler is. I want to know all about him. Where he came from, what he’s doing here, and how long he’s going to be in town.”

  “I can do that, boss,” Martin said.

  “Not you, you idiot,” Cramer said. “Find me Sutherland.”

  “Sutherland?” Martin asked. “I can do anythin’ he can do, boss.”

  “No, Martin, you can’t,” Cramer said, “because after I find out who that fella was, I want him dead.”

  “I can do—”

  “Martin,” Cramer said, cutting him off, “you have not filled me with confidence today—”

  “Boss—”

  “—so shut the hell up, and go find me Sutherland—now!”

  CHAPTER 16

  When they were in a cab, on their way back to the White Elephant, Short said, “Thanks, Butler. I knew I made the right decision takin’ you with me.”

  “What was that all about?”

  “That was about Ed Cramer bein’ a complete asshole, like he always is,” Short said. “I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to talk to him. He gets under my skin every time.”

  “How do you know him? From here?”

  “Cramer and I have been in the same place at the same time in a few different towns,” Short said, “but this is the first time we both
own a place in the same town. And it ain’t workin’.”

  “Well,” Butler said, “at least we didn’t end up shooting the place up.”

  “Oh, crap,” Short said.

  “What?”

  “I knew I forgot to do something’.”

  When they got back to the White Elephant, Butler went to the bar for a drink. Short told him he had to go to the office to talk to his partner, Ward, and that he’d see him later.

  “I’m gonna buy you a meal.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Short said. “Meet me here at six.”

  “Okay,” Butler said, “six.”

  As Short walked away, Jerry came over with a beer and said to Butler, “Fireworks?”

  “Not even a spark.”

  Jerry looked disappointed.

  “Not even one shot?”

  “No,” Butler said, “but Luke did put his gun into Ed Cramer’s mouth and threaten to blow the back of his head out.”

  “Awright,” Jerry said. “I knew there’d be some excitement.”

  “Just a little.”

  Luke Short told Bill Ward what had happened in Hell’s Half Acre with Ed Cramer.

  “Damn it, Luke,” Ward said. “Don’t you have enough enemies? Don’t we?”

  “Cramer’s an old enemy of mine, Bill,” Short said. “This is nothin’ new.”

  “Well, it’s new for me,” Ward said. “Did you go there alone? You could’ve been killed.”

  “No, I took Butler,” Short said. “He saved my bacon once already.”

  “Then he’s a good man to have around.”

  “That’s what I was thinkin’.”

  “What, you want to hire him?”

  “Yes.”

  “To do what?”

  “Whatever he wants,” Short said. “To gamble here. Just to be around.”

  “Is he a name that’s going to draw other gamblers?” Ward asked.

  Short smiled.

  “By the time I’m done,” he said, confidently, “he will be.”

  “Go ahead, then,” Ward said. “And what about those rumors that Cramer’s going to send someone over here to start trouble? Did you…convince him it wouldn’t be wise?”

  “He’s a stubborn cuss. But he won’t be sendin’ anyone for a while.”