The players at the table changed as the night wore on. But no sooner did a man quit the game than another was ready to slip into his chair. And all this time Wayne was really playing under a handicap because his mind was not fully on his game. Would Hunter seize the opportunity to shake him? And why should he expect Hunter to take up with him?
As the game progressed, the bets gradually increased in value. The fresh talent entering the play was more aggressive. The last player to buy in before Wayne left the game took $1,000 in chips just before midnight. Thus the whisper went around that a back-room game was in full blast out front and the ring of spectators became three deep. And the last man proved to be Mort Green.
This, in itself, was enough to cause a mild sensation. Mort Green playing out front. His play was ordinarily in a rear room where a limit was unknown and a man’s cards were worth anything he could make them worth. And he nodded to Wayne when he had tossed a $1,000 bill to the dealer. “Make most of ’em canaries,” he had said, jerking a thumb toward the stacks of yellow chips worth $20 each.
This roused Wayne. At last his mind was fully on his game. He could play stud, and, while this was as stiff a game as he had ever sat in, it was, so far as he could determine, absolutely square. True, there had been two boosters, or house men in, and one of these had given up his seat to Green, probably at a signal. But Wayne had reason to believe that the gambler was a privileged character here.
It was an hour after midnight when Wayne again took keen cognizance of the room beyond the circle of interested spectators. The noise of the crowd had died down. There was almost a complete silence in the place. Wayne looked up to find Green’s eyes looking straight into his. There was a warning in that gaze as much as if the gambler had shouted it at the top of his voice. Wayne saw spectators looking startled, first at him and then over his shoulders and the heads of other onlookers. There was a stir behind him as men hastily shifted their positions. Then he heard the stamp of boots and the clink of spurs.
He kicked back his chair and got to his feet as an aisle opened through the crowd like magic, reaching from the card table to the bar. Jake Barry was striding toward him. Wayne stiffened and their gazes locked. He had expected this meeting, but not so soon. Perhaps it would make a good beginning for the adventure upon which he had entered. The thought rather pleased him. Green said afterward: “I’ll swear he looked glad when he saw Jake coming.”
Barry stopped within three paces of him and planted his big hands on his hips. On his thick lips played a grim, sneering smile.
“You’re back again, eh,” he shot through his teeth.
“You’re able to see again, you ought to know,” Wayne shot back.
The crowd gasped and a sigh seemed to stir in the room. Men closed in behind Barry, but Wayne didn’t know whether they were companions of his or not. One thing, however, was sure. Barry could not try any underhand work in the presence of the throng.
“Listen, you!” Barry pointed a stubby forefinger at Wayne as he snarled the command. “You’re off your pie-and-cake playground and on a he-man range, get me?”
“I suppose you’re trying to make me think you’re top he-man, is that it?” Wayne returned coldly.
Spectators now began to move back from the table and those directly behind Wayne and Barry, respectively, got into a jam in their sudden effort to get out of what might be the line of fire. Only Mort Green remained where he was sitting at the table, his hands outspread on the green cloth, his face inscrutable.
“Think what you please!” thundered Barry with an oath. “But remember this. I’m givin’ you notice to get clear of town by time the sun sinks tomorrow!”
“And suppose it’s cloudy,” said Wayne with a cold, queer smile.
“Then you can figure time,” flashed the infuriated Barry. He turned on his heel and now had clear passage back to the bar.
But Wayne leaped, caught him by the shoulder, and whirled him about. “Why wait for tomorrow?” he demanded.
“I don’t want anybody, ’specially your pa, to think I didn’t give you a chance,” sneered Barry.
“Yeah?” said Wayne in a tone of derision. “You mean you want to try to get the drop on me. Listen, Jake, get an earful of this. I hadn’t intended to leave town tomorrow and now I don’t intend to change my plans. But I’ll make you draw in the open, and, if you do, I’ll lay your length in the dust. This is twice you’ve started trouble with me in a town and there won’t be a third time. I’m giving you a chance, if you only knew it, and maybe I’m too charitable.”
“You’re givin’ me a chance, if you stay,” Barry managed to get out.
“You’ve got that twisted,” said Wayne grimly, his eyes glowing coals of dangerous fire. “I’m giving you a chance to think it over and beat it.”
He turned his back, picked up his chair, and sat down at the table across from Green as Miles Henseler battled his way through the crowd from the rear, swearing horribly.
Chapter Fifteen
“What’s the trouble here?” Henseler demanded as he reached the table where the players were resuming their places before the stacks of chips.
“Jake Barry just made a speech.” The answer to the proprietor’s question came in Green’s cool voice. “He gave Wayne, here, his notice and Wayne threw it back at him.”
Henseler glared around. “Where is he?” he cried angrily. There was a shuffling of feet and a swelling murmur of voices, but no one ventured to answer the question. Henseler seized a chair that had been vacated at a nearby table and stepped upon it so he could survey the crowd. But Barry was not to be seen.
“He’s gone out,” came a voice from the front.
Henseler got down and looked first at Green, then at Wayne. “I won’t have any trouble in my place,” he said.
“You ought to know,” Wayne returned coldly.
“Yes, and Jake ought to know,” fumed Henseler. “And now I’m telling you so that you’ll know.” He glared about at the sea of faces. “I’m making a new rule here and now!” he shouted, banging the table with his fist. “Any man that starts a fight in here, doesn’t come back! He’s siwashed! I have had trouble enough to keep this place running as it is, without gettin’ the white-ribboners at the county seat stirred up.” He wet his lips and continued to look about him with a scowl.
Wayne noted that Green, whose deal it was, was calmly shuffling the cards. Once, when he caught the gambler’s eye, he thought he detected a glimmer of amusement. Possibly Henseler had laid down this rule before. He could tell it wasn’t said for his benefit.
The player on Green’s right cut the cards and the gambler dealt swiftly and smoothly. Henseler turned away and went back to his office, grumbling. The place again became noisy. There now was a real topic to discuss. Jake Barry, a gunman of more than passing note, had given Wayne his orders and Wayne had stood up to them. This made a meeting inevitable at sundown the very next day. The Three Colors hummed like a gigantic beehive.
Wayne tipped the corner of his hole card and the ace of diamonds smiled at him. He shoved in the $1 check it cost to stay with fingers steady as steel. All the players stayed including Green. On the first upturn of the cards, Wayne received another ace, giving him aces back to back, the ace of diamonds down and the ace of clubs up. Two kings were turned up, one in the hand of a player on Wayne’s left and the other in Green’s hand. With the only ace in sight, Wayne bet $50. The player on Wayne’s left stayed, two others ahead of Green dropped out, but Green raised the bet $100. The other men in the game up to Wayne turned their cards, but Wayne saw the raise and boosted it another $100. The other player with a king stayed and so did Green. Green’s king was the king of diamonds. They were not playing with the joker, nor did straights count unless they were all of a suite. A straight flush beat a flush naturally. Thus, on the second run of the cards, only three were in the game and there was $750 in the pot.
On the next deal all three drew small cards, but Green drew a diamond, giving him two diamo
nds in sight. The two others had off-color cards. Wayne bet $100 and the two players with him each stayed, bringing the total value of the checks in the center of the table to more than $1,000. The crowd of spectators now were looking on breathlessly. Here, indeed, was a backroom game in front! When Henseler became aware of this, he, too, came back to the table to watch.
On the fourth run of cards, Wayne drew a jack, the man on the left drew a deuce, and Green drew the eight of diamonds. He now had three diamonds in sight with the possibility that he had a fourth in the hole. Wayne did some rapid thinking. He had the man on his left beaten even if he held two kings back to back, as he suspected. He had Green beaten if he held kings back to back. But he couldn’t have two kings of diamonds and therefore, if he had two kings, he didn’t have the making of a flush. But why should he have stood Wayne’s $100 raise, or have raised himself, on the second card if he didn’t have two kings. He might have raised on ace and king of diamonds, although it would not be good playing, but Wayne had the ace of diamonds as his hole card. Then Wayne came to the conclusion that Green was trying him out. But why do it in such a public manner at such expense?
As high man, Wayne bet $100. He had won considerably and was playing on velvet. The man at his left stayed, showing that he did have two kings. Green stayed without raising, which seemed a queer play to Wayne, if Green had four diamonds. Green also was winner in the game, while the checks belonging to the man at Wayne’s left dwindled to one stack of $10 blues. This amounted to $200.
As Green prepared to deal the cards, the third man spoke suddenly. “I’ll cut the pack,” he said.
Green’s eyes flashed once. Then he placed the pack in front of the player, who cut deep. Three cards, completing the hands, shot deftly from Green’s fingers.
It was Wayne’s turn to bet, regardless of the fact that he had high card, for he was first from the dealer’s left on the last card out. He had drawn a trey and had no pair in sight. The man on his left had drawn a small card that didn’t pair in sight. But Green had drawn his fourth diamond—a jack. He had a possible flush.
He took out his silver cigarette case and calmly lighted a smoke. Wayne studied that jack of diamonds without concern for the third man’s hand, for that player could not beat him. The onlookers hung upon the play like vultures. Even the hardened Henseler was visibly affected. There were two reasons for this. First, it was an interesting situation; second, Wayne was a stranger, but evidently knew his cards and was facing the most accomplished gambler in town; third, he was playing coolly and excellently, despite the fact that Jake Barry had declared himself only a short time before, and this would seem to indicate that he had no qualms whatsoever over the prospect of meeting the gunfighter. The money on the table was the least of the factors that made the situation interesting.
Wayne pushed out a stack of blue checks, which would tap the man at his left. But the third player turned down his cards. There was a possible flush, or possibility—yes, certainly—two aces against him. Green waited a full minute before he pushed in the blues to meet Wayne’s bet, and then followed with two stacks of canaries, worth $1,000. For the first time in the game he smiled faintly. It was just a suggestion of a smile, perhaps, but Wayne saw it. It decided him instantly. He pushed in two stacks of yellows and looked at Green with raised brows. He had called the bet.
In his same cool, easy manner, Green turned the four exposed diamonds over upon his hole card, backs up, picked up the five cards, tore them in two, and thrust the pieces in a side pocket.
“That’s enough,” he said quietly, as Wayne reached for the $3,757 in checks in the center.
An audible intake of breath came from the spectators. Green and Wayne both cashed in their checks and pushed back their chairs. Nothing seemed strange about their leaving the game.
“Have a drink?” Wayne asked.
“We’ll make it two,” replied Green as they started for the bar.
“I see you found Hunter,” the gambler remarked casually.
“Yes,” said Wayne with a sly smile. “I’m much obliged to you for telling him I was looking for him.” He wondered if Green had seen Hunter the night of the attack or had told him when he came back to town from the badlands, before he followed Jake out. But he had no inclination to ask. “I guess Henseler also told him,” he added. If Green wanted to think that Wayne suspected they had both kept him from meeting Hunter that night, all well and good.
Green ignored the remark. “Here’s a go,” he toasted, lifting his glass. Wayne drank with him, noting that he took but a taste of the liquor as he did himself.
Green signaled the man behind the bar as Henseler moved toward them. Wayne had seen in the mirror above the backbar that scores of pairs of eyes were upon him. It gave him the first thrill of his big adventure. He had come to town to find he had a rep, as Hunter called it, and his stock had gone up like a kite since Jake Barry had challenged him. The card game, too, had made him better known. But he would have liked to put his hand in the side pocket of Green’s coat to secure the torn cards that were there.
If Green had been beaten with two kings, having had them from the start, why had he played to make Wayne think he had the making of a flush, and had finally made it? It wasn’t like an experienced gambler such as Green was to bluff in this way. Had he been trying to draw out on the others and gain two pair? That didn’t sound like his style of poker. And if he really had had the flush and had let Wayne take the pot, then—why?
Henseler joined them. “I wouldn’t take too much stock in that flare-up of Jake’s,” he told Wayne. “It wouldn’t surprise me any if he didn’t show up.”
“No?” said Wayne coldly. “Well, if he doesn’t show up, he wants to beat it out of town and stay away while I’m here. You don’t know all the inside of this and Barry has wished something on himself.” He was surprised at the vindictiveness in his tone. Was he actually looking forward to this meeting that could mean but one thing, gun play? He knew that Barry was practically disgraced—was disgraced—because of his defeat in Riverdale. No man there or in Rainbow might care to tell him so to his face, but he had lost prestige and standing. This would be enough to drive a man of his breed to the border of madness. Wayne was satisfied that the one reason why Jake had not pushed the trouble to a finish tonight when he accosted him in the resort was that he sought an advantage in the draw—a favor from Lady Luck. This, Wayne was resolved, he should not have.
Henseler had said something to Green, and now he spoke again to Wayne. “If this business has to go through, don’t stage it in my place,” he said.
“Oh, hang your place!” Wayne said in disgust. “This isn’t a church. Do your own worrying. You’ve got a tough place in a tough town. What do you expect?”
“I expect …”
“Cut it,” Green broke in. “Wayne isn’t likely to pick out stuffed quarters for fast work, and Barry’s no fool. These spells of yours don’t make a hit with the crowd, Henseler.”
The resort proprietor scowled, but held his tongue.
Green turned to Wayne. “Suppose we go and get a snack to eat,” he suggested. “I know a pretty fair place.”
“Sure,” Wayne agreed. He didn’t look at Henseler as they went out with the stares of the crowd focused on them.
To Wayne’s astonishment, Green led the way straight to the little green house at the end of the alley where he had taken supper with Hunter at sunset. This house, then, was the retreat of a favored, important few, of which Green was one.
Although it was past midnight, there was a light showing at the bottoms of the windows and Green’s knock was quickly answered.
Mrs. Trippett beamed when she saw Green and Wayne. She nodded pleasantly to Wayne. He surmised by her manner that she considered him in good company. There was a light in the dining room for which Green headed. “’Lo, Hunter,” Wayne heard him say. So Hunter was there, too.
“You can come right in and set down,” Mrs. Trippett invited. “I’ve got a lunch on the
table. ’Tain’t much, but I reckon you can fill up on it. And there’s some hot tea. How did you make out at your gambling?”
Wayne smiled. This woman seemed to know much. “I won,” he told her. “I had beginner’s luck in a new town.”
“My Tom always said the luck was mostly what you made it,” was the woman’s comment, as she preceded him into the dining room, and Wayne thought to himself that this applied peculiarly to Jake Barry, after his declaration of that night.
Hunter, who was eating at the table, nodded to him as he and Green sat down. Wayne looked at the gambler who nodded toward Hunter. “Tell him,” he said.
“Jake called the turn tonight and set the time for sundown tomorrow,” Wayne told Hunter.
“I heard about it,” said Hunter shortly. Although Wayne hadn’t known it, he was in the resort when Barry had given his notice. Fifteen minutes afterward a rider, mounted on one of the fastest horses on that range, had crossed the bridge outside town at a ringing gallop, bound for the Whippoorwill with a message for Ed Wayne. The message was brief and to the point, and would be at the WP by sunup. The rider had definite instructions on that point.
“I think Jake’s imagination is running away with him,” Green observed, following a short silence.
“Are you goin’ through with it?” Hunter asked Wayne in a listless voice.
Wayne’s brows arched in surprise. “Of course I’m going through with it,” he answered, somewhat curtly. “What else could I do?”
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