Dead Man's Poker

by Giles Tippette

  I said to Sharp, “Any more?”

  He had turned nearly white. He had his hands before him on the desk. They were trembling. He shook his head, slowly. “No, no.”

  I said, “If I get another surprise, the next man I shoot will be you.”

  He stammered he said, “Tha-that’s all on b-board.”

  I swept my pistol around the room. I said, “I think it’s time you boys all got rid of those guns you are carrying. You have just seen what can happen if you get careless with one. You can get hurt. Now, one at a time, as I point at you with my pistol, take the weapons you have and put them on the desk in front of Mr. Sharp. But be real careful. I mean real careful.”

  One by one, beginning with the man leaning against the wall behind Sharp, they all laid their pistols on the desk. I said to Sharp, “Now what have you got to contribute?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m not wearing a gun.”

  “Not even that little .32-caliber you shot me with?”

  “No.”

  “Stand up.”

  He rose, carefully putting his hands up as he did. I looked him over critically but couldn’t see where he could have a gun concealed, other than maybe a derringer. Actually, I didn’t give a damn if he had one or not. I kind of halfway wished he did and that he’d make a try for it. That would at least make up my mind for me. I told him so, leaving out, though, the part about my indecision.

  He said, “Wilson, there’s no need for trouble between us over this misunderstanding. I’m certain I can make matters right between us.”

  I laughed. I said, “I’m certain you can too. I ain’t certain you’re going to like how matters get settled, but they’ll suit me.”

  He went to trembling again.

  The man sitting by the side of the desk was a little better dressed than the other three. He said, “Look here, I don’t know what is going on, but it’s nothing to do with me. I’m a businessman. I’ve come over from Cuba to meet with Mr. Sharp. I run a business importing cattle into Cuba. So I’d just like to step on along. You and I got no quarrel.”

  Outside I heard a Thunk. Then another Thunk. That, I figured, would be Chulo cutting the hawsers.

  I didn’t like all those revolvers laying so handy on top of Sharp’s desk. There was a little chest up against the wall just to my right. I switched my revolver to my left hand and then, without looking, lifted the lid of the chest. One by one I pitched the pistols into the chest and then shut the lid. I said, “Boys, I hate to do this, but I’m going to need your clothes. One at a time, just like with the guns, start taking off your clothes. Boots first. Go on down to your underwear. If you ain’t wearing underwear, why, don’t be embarrassed. Ain’t everybody can afford it. I don’t wear it myself as a matter of convenience. Now, you back there against the wall. Get over here to the left so I can see you. And skin down. Any derringers fall out of your boot, don’t make no grab for them.”

  I heard another Thunk, Thunk, only this one sounded more distant. I figured it was Chulo cutting the hawser up near the bow. I’d be glad to have him back because my herd was getting a little unruly, especially the little man sitting at Sharp’s desk. He said, “I will not take off my clothes. I tell you I am a businessman from Cuba, and I have nothing to do with this except for some cattle.”

  I smiled at him. I said, “Would they be cattle with hoof-and-mouth disease?”

  I didn’t miss the startled expression on Sharp’s face, but the little man from Cuba tried to brazen it out. He said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, hoof-and-mouth disease. I own a cattle company out of Houston, and I ain’t going to take my clothes off!”

  I said, “Stand up.”

  He looked at me. “What?”

  I motioned with my pistol. I said, “Stand up.”

  He reluctantly got to his feet. He faced me, his hands in the air.

  I said, “Turn around.”

  “What?”

  “Are you deaf? Turn the hell around!”

  He slowly brought his back around to me. I raised my pistol and brought the barrel down hard on the top of his head. He fell in a heap on the floor. I moved over to the right and sat down on the chest I’d put the guns in. I said, “Now, Phil, take the man’s clothes off. But do it from the upper end so I can see anything that might get stuck in your hand.”

  I was beginning to feel the boat rock just a little more. I supposed that we were drifting. More, I hoped that Romando and Rodriquez had got tied on and were able to get aboard. Me and Chulo would be in a hell of a mess out in the middle of the ocean in a boat we didn’t know how to make work.

  Chulo come in about the time Sharp got the cattle agent stripped down to his drawers. He’d had no hideout gun. I had Sharp throw his clothes over in the corner next to me.

  Chulo said, “Thees boad ain’t here no more.”

  By that I took him to mean we were drifting away from the dock.

  I motioned at Sharp. I said, “Take a seat, Phil. I wouldn’t want you getting all wore out standing around.”

  Then I said to the three that were left, “Now, y’all want to go ahead and take yore clothes off or you want the same treatment this here poor fellow got?”

  Sharp said, “Does that include me?” He was still badly uneasy, but he was starting to get his feet back under him a little.

  I said, “Why, hell no, Phil. A man of your dignity? Wouldn’t think of it. Besides, I know you wouldn’t have no hideout gun hid in your clothes. But I don’t know these other gents like I know you.”

  I waited while the three men undressed one at a time. We came up with two knives that looked like they could do a body some harm, so Chulo took them in hand and I had him pitch them in the chest with the guns. Only one of the men wasn’t wearing any underwear, and I let him put his pants back on once we’d checked to make sure he wasn’t carrying anything he might hurt himself with.

  Sharp said, “Look here, Wilson, I wish you’d tell me what you’re planning. I know we can come to some sort of arrangement. Let’s don’t let this matter go too far before we talk it over.”

  I said, “Oh, we’re going to have us a powwow, Phil. You can bet on that. But first I got to get matters all arranged. Chulo,” I said, indicating the door to what Romando had said was the eating room, “step over there and see what’s in that room.”

  I was beginning to feel the boat rock and sway just a little more with every passing moment. We were very obviously not there no more, as Chulo might have said.

  He went into the room. I could see it was dark. Then I saw the flare of a match, and the room filled with light as he lit a lantern. He came out in a moment, shrugging. He said, “Es a table. Es sum chairs. Nada mas.”

  “Any other doors out of there?”

  He shook his head no.

  “How about windows?”

  “Choust leetle round ones.”

  I said, “All right, blow that lantern out. Then step back out here and help me escort these gents in to dinner.”

  I directed the two that were standing in front of the bunk in their underwear to get hold of the cattle exporter and drag him into the dining room. The one I’d let put his pants back on led the way. When they were all inside the room, I shut the door and locked it and put the key in my pocket. Then I walked back over to Sharp’s desk, shoved my revolver back in its holster, and dragged around the chair that the cattle dealer had been sitting in, so that I was face-to-face with Sharp. With all that had been happening, I hadn’t had a real good chance to study him closely. I looked at him across the desk. It was hard to believe that he was a man who’d robbed me, shot me, and then kept my life in a turmoil for going on close to two weeks. He looked like a chubby little businessman who gave to charity and went to church and who you could trust with your last dollar. His hair was a little thin on top, and his belly was straining the buttons of his vest, but his jolly little round face said you’d never want to meet a nicer person.

  It made him nervou
s me staring at him like that. He took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped his hands. I guessed they were getting a little damp.

  I said, “Got anything else in that coat, Phil?”

  He shook his head. “No, not really. Not anything of interest. My wallet, but it hasn’t much money in it.”

  I said, “I was thinking more about that little .32-caliber pistol of yours. Wonder where that is. I got just an overpowering curiosity about that gun.”

  He said, “I—”

  There came a knock at the door. I got up quickly, drawing my revolver as I did. Chulo flattened himself against the wall. I put my ear to the door. The knock came again. Romando said, “Señor Wilson!”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. They were on board. I said, to Chulo, “Watch our friend there. Let me step outside and talk to Romando for a moment.”

  Romando started to say something, but I cut him short. I said, “Damn you, boy, what did you mean sneaking back aboard this boat? You could have got us all killed!”

  He said, “No, no, no. That was not the way of it. I watched from the dock while you and Señor Chulo searched the deck. I saw that you did not notice the galley. I could see from the dock that someone was cooking in it. I could see the smoke rising. I think you were too close. So I ran back to my boat and got my pistole and went to the galley to make a prisoner of the man that was cooking in there.”

  “What happened?”

  He looked down at the floor. He said, “He took the pistole away from me. I had forgotten it was not double-action, and I tried to pull the trigger without cocking it. That was a mistake.”

  I tried not to laugh. I said, “Well, it worked out for the best. Did you and Rodriquez get aboard all right?”

  He said, “Oh, yes, I threw a line over the stern before I left the ship. We climbed up that and my boat is in tow.”

  I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. I was on deck, looking back toward the harbor. The lights seemed a long ways off. I said, “How are we doing?”

  Romando said, “We are trying to get a little sail up. Soon we will be in the Gulf and I must get steerageway. Rodriquez and I can handle it for a little while, but when we are well out into the Gulf, I will have to have some help to get more sail up.”

  I said, “I’ll have some help out right quick. Just as quick as Chulo and I get our business finished with Sharp so that one of us can come out and keep guard on whoever is helping you.”

  He said, “When do I have my chance at this Sharp?”

  “Soon,” I said. I patted him on the shoulder. “Soon.”

  I looked up at the masts. At the rear one I could see Rodriquez struggling with one of the big squares of canvas, trying to secure it. I could see it was a hard job for one man. I said, “What’s that pole he’s standing on?”

  “The yardarm, señor. He is only going to drop those two bottom sails. That will be enough for now, but soon we will need more sail and we must have help.”

  “How come you ain’t steering?”

  “It is not necessary yet.”

  I said, “Did we make a clean getaway?”

  He looked blank.

  “Anybody chasing us?”

  “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “We are simply a ship drifting out on the tide. There are others.”

  I said, “I got to get back. I’ll send you out some help quick as I can.”

  I went back into the cabin and sat down across from Sharp. I still had my revolver in my hand. He looked at it in some alarm. He said, “What are you planning, Wilson? Surely you are not going to shoot me in cold blood over some misunderstanding.”

  I said, “Oh, no. I ain’t going to shoot you in cold blood. I’m mad as hell. My blood is about the same temperature as my temper, and it is way on up there.”

  He swallowed, visibly. He said, “You put the witnesses away so they couldn’t see you do it.”

  I laughed. I said, “That bunch of crooks? Hell, I’m going to throw them overboard as soon as we get out to sea.”

  He was really starting to get nervous. He wiped his hands on the handkerchief several times. He said, “This is all so unnecessary.”

  I said, “Sharp, where is that little .32 pistol of yours?”

  “I don’t have it.”

  I motioned to Chulo. I said, “Look in his desk.”

  Chulo started forward, but Sharp stopped him with a trembling hand. “All right,” he said. “All right He opened a drawer, took the pistol, out and laid it in front of me. He said, ”That’s what you’re going to shoot me with, isn’t it? That’s why you wanted it. Because I accidently shot you with it. You’re going to shoot me with the gun I shot you with by accident.”

  I laughed. I said, “You mean the gun you accidently didn’t kill me with. Wasn’t nothing wrong with your intentions, Sharp, just your aim. You just didn’t want to pay me that twenty thousand dollars you owed me because you was nearly broke. Ain’t that about the size of it?”

  He said, earnestly, leaning forward across his desk, “We can work something out. I have a business deal afoot that is going to make a lot of money. I’ll give you half of my share. It will, in the goodness of time, make you a great deal more than what I owe you.”

  I laughed. I said, “You mean your hoof-and-mouth business in Cuba? I reckon you can forget that.”

  It was the second time I’d mentioned it, and it furrowed his brow. He said, “How . . . ?”

  I was about halfway tempted to just let him keep on wondering, but I decided not to. Not out of kindness, you understand, but just to cut him down a little more. Of course I had decided not to kill him. I didn’t know when I’d made the decision, but if I’d been going to kill him, I already would have done so. Or at least I wasn’t going to kill him unless he made me.

  But I sure as hell intended to torment the fire out of him. I didn’t intend that he should have a single second when he could relax and not be in fear of his life.

  I said, “Those other two ships you’ve been expecting won’t be coming, Phil. Mike Hull and the rest of your vigilante outlaws are in jail.”

  He started. “What?”

  I told him the whole story and his face got longer and longer. When I told him the part about peeling the soles off Hull’s feet, he looked over at Chulo and shuddered. Chulo gave him a big grin back.

  I said, “Did you take note of that young Mexican that got brought to the door? Did you recognize him?”

  He frowned. He said, “I’m not sure. Maybe I did.”

  I said, “That’s the mayor of Bodega. I’m having a hell of a time with him because he seriously wants to skin you alive, and not just the soles of your feet.”

  He licked his lips. His hands trembled. He said, “I’ve done him no wrong. I was going to buy some cattle from him. I gave him five hundred dollars.”

  “Yes,” I said, “for six hundred cattle at ten dollars a head. Which Mike Hull was supposed to come along and pick up with them two other ships you was going to steal from a company that ain’t yours anymore. Six hundred head at ten dollars a head. That’s six thousand dollars that them Mexicans would never have seen. And there wouldn’t have been a damn thing they could do about it because by then the whole bunch of those cattle would have been sick.”

  Sharp said, “Mike would have paid them the difference. I told that to that young alcalde.”

  I said, “Where would Mike Hull have got fifty-five hundred dollars even if I hadn’t got on to him?”

  He said, “Why . . . from the company.”

  I laughed. “Bullshit. I’ve had quite a talk with Mr. Patterson. He ain’t as dumb as you think he is. He is piecing that company out to your creditors. By law you stole this very boat we’re on. No, Hull wouldn’t have had any fifty-five hundred dollars to give to that village. He’d have just taken those cattle. Probably, on account of them five sick head you drove into their pens first, the people would have been glad to get rid of the cattle. But if they’d put up a squawk, Hull and his hooligans ha
d orders to shoot the place up and rob it as well. Oh, Mr. Hull done quite a bit of talking once he got started.”

  Sharp didn’t say anything, just watched me.

  I said, “Sharp, I ain’t known as a deacon in the church or even one of the choir members, but I’m a son of a bitch if I could be mean enough to cheat and starve a whole village of poor peons. Them cattle and a few dried fish was all they had to live on.”

  He just licked his lips and said nothing.

  I said, “Sharp, you are a circular son of a bitch. A son of a bitch from any angle.”

  There came a banging at the dining room door. I could hear someone yelling, and I figured it was the man from Cuba and Houston and all points crooked. I pitched Chulo the key and told him to quiet the man down.

  Chulo opened the door and disappeared. There was a thump and then it all got quiet again. Chulo came back in and shut and locked the door. He put the key in his pocket and then leaned back and crossed his arms.

  I stared at Sharp, deliberately letting an ominous atmosphere come into the room. After a moment Sharp felt it. He said, his voice shaking, “Are you going to kill me now?”

  I give him a surprised look. I said, “Phil, how could you figure such a thing?” I unbuttoned the flap of my shirt pocket and took out the deck of cards and put them in front of me. I said, “Me and you is going to play some poker.”

  He looked startled. He said, “Poker?”

  “Yeah.” I took his .32-caliber pistol and emptied the cartridges out in my hand and counted them. “Six,” I said. “Good. That means we’ll both have the same stake.”

  I put his empty gun in front of him. Then I took my revolver and emptied the bullets out of my .42-.40. Of course there were only five, since I’d used one to shoot the man who’d had Romando. I dug in my pocket and came up with a sixth. I reached across the table and put my cartridges in front of Sharp. I said, “There, that’s your stake. Of course they don’t fit your gun. I got your cartridges, the ones that do fit. And you got mine. Understand?”