Butler's Wager

CHAPTER 13

Two hours later Butler was still ahead, most of it on Mike Deaver’s money. Since that first hand he’d been playing pretty evenly, while Ben Thompson—his mood improved by Deaver’s absence—got hot.

“I’m gonna have a beer and come right back,” Butler said, pushing away from the table.

“You can have a beer at the table,” Rahy said. “We don’t mind.”

“Sorry,” Butler said, “but I ain’t smart enough to do two things at one time like that.”

That made Ben Thompson laugh, and he asked, “You mind if I join you for one? These boys can play three-handed for a while…right boys?”

“Sure, Ben,” the other echoed.

Thompson stood up and said to Butler, “Come on, I’ll buy.”

“Much obliged, Ben.”

As they walked to the bar, men moved and formed a path for Ben Thompson and his new friend.

“Two beers,” Thompson said when they reached the mile-long Alhambra bar.

“You really don’t have to—” Butler started, but Thompson cut him off.

“This is for busting that big-mouthed kid out of the game,” he said. “For some reason I just couldn’t get it done myself. What you did was a thing of beauty.”

“Thanks,” Butler said. “He wasn’t really that hard to read.”

He froze, for a moment wondering if Thompson would take that as an insult.

“I know it,” Thompson said. “For some reason he just got my goat running his mouth at me like that. I thought he was trying to push me into a fight, but he had his chance when he stood up. See that fancy piece of his?”

“I saw it,” Butler said. “Turns out he was no more a gunman than he was a poker player.”

“I guess not.”

Their beers arrived and they each drank down half the mug before coming up for air.

“First night in town, or first night playing?” Thompson asked.

“First night in town.”

“Staying long?”

“Long enough to make some more money.”

“Saw Dog usher you into your seat,” Thompson said. “Friend of his?”

“Just met tonight, over at the Lady Gay,” Butler said. “There was, uh, some commotion.”

“Was that you?” Thompson asked. “I heard somebody kept Jim Masterson from getting shot in the back.”

“Yeah, that was me. Right place, right time.”

“So you’re as good with a gun as you are with a deck of cards?” Thompson asked.

“I get by with both.”

“You do more than get by, my friend,” the other man said. “You’re damned good.”

“Thanks. Ben. I appreciate that.”

“I appreciate a man who can handle his cards,” Thompson said. “You’re a slick dealer, too. Not that I’m saying you cheat, don’t get me wrong. You just handle the cards real well. I’ll bet if you were bottom dealing I’d hardly see it.”

“I’ll bet if I was bottom dealing,” Butler said, “you would have seen it right off and I wouldn’t be standing here.”

Thompson laughed and slapped Butler on the back.

“Let’s finish these drinks and get back to the table. We got some sheep to shear.”

The emptied their mugs and retraced their steps back through the path in the crowd to their poker table. The other three didn’t look real happy to see them. It seemed the only time one of them had won a hand was just now, while Butler and Thompson were gone.

Butler sat down, thinking his luck was going to change now—and for the better.