Butler's Wager

CHAPTER 25

She started out asking him some easy questions: How he got started playing poker, some of the famous people he’s played with, his most difficult game. She continued to ask and he to answer throughout dinner and dessert, and then it was his turn to ask a question.

“So? What did you think?”

“I have to admit,” she said, sitting back. “That was the best steak I’ve ever had. It was cooked to perfection.”

“And the pie?”

“The same,” she said.

“So you’ll write about this place in your newspaper?”

“Definitely.”

“Can we tell him now?”

“Why not?” she asked. “There’s no name outside. If I’m going to tell people to come here, I’m going to need to know the name of the place.”

When Hank came back, Butler introduced M.J. as the editor of the Dodge City Times.

“She wants to write about your place.”

“Write about it?” Hank frowned.

“Tell people to come here and eat,” Butler said. “Once she’s done you won’t have an empty seat in the house, ever.”

Curiously, Hank did not look as happy about this as Butler had thought he would.

“I don’t know, Mr. Butler…” he said.

“What’s the problem?”

Hank looked at M.J.

“I really appreciate the offer, Miss,” he said, “but I’m all alone here. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if it was crowded all the time. I kinda like it the way it is.”

“But…you’re not making a living here, are you, Hank?” Butler asked. “I thought you wanted people to come?”

“Well, sure…every once in a while.” He looked directly at M.J. again. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful…”

“Hey, don’t worry,” she said. “If you don’t want me to write about it, I won’t write about it.”

“Is it okay if I think about it some?” he asked finally.

“Of course,” she said. “Just let Butler know what you want to do, and he’ll tell me.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.” He went back to the kitchen.

“That’s odd,” Butler said.

“Curious,” she said, “but it could be that he’s happy the way things are.”

“That wasn’t the impression I first got when I spoke with him,” Butler said.

“Hey,” she said, “not everybody wants the world to know where they are every minute, you know?”

Actually, he did know that, better than most.

They paid the bill and left. Butler walked her back home and along the way she kept asking questions. As they neared her house she got to the one he didn’t want to answer.

“So, what brought you to the West?”

Suddenly, as he pondered how to answer the question, he realized how Hank must have felt.

“Much like every other young man,” he lied, “I came to see what it was like.”

“And you planned all along to gamble your way across?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” he said. “There’s not much else I can do.”

“You seem pretty intelligent,” she commented. “Seems to me you could do anything you put your mind to. I’ll even bet you’re college educated.”

They stopped right in front of her house.

“Well,” he said, “this was nice.”

She smiled at him, examined his face.

“Don’t want to answer those last few, huh?”

“Too personal,” he said. “I’m not ready to put my person life on display in a newspaper.”

“I see.”

“You see,” he said, “but do you understand?”

She thought a moment, then said, “I suppose so. I mean, as the newspaperwoman—the daughter of a newspaperman—I tend to think everything should be in the newspaper, but then I realize not everyone thinks that way.”

“Your father started the Times?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “He came here in 1871, along with the others.”

“The others?”

“He came with Chalk Beeson and Dog Kelley and the other Dodge City fathers.”

“So he was part of the Dodge City Gang?”

“Not part of the Gang, not part of the Reformers. Well, there were hardly any Reformers back then, but my father tried to straddle the fence as much as he could while reporting the news.”

“And what happened to him?”

“Dodge City was a wild town, even just a few years ago. About five years ago he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he caught a bullet. Since then my brother and I have tried to keep the paper going.”

“Younger brother?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s hard trying to run the paper and him at the same time, but…he’s my brother.”

“He’s old enough,” Butler said, “to run his own life.”

“If you knew him better you wouldn’t say that,” she said. “Well, I better get inside. I’m an early-to-bed kind of person. Thank you for the supper, and the interview.”

“It was my pleasure.”

As they shook hands she said, “Yeah, but you didn’t think it was going to be, did you?”

He watched her walk up the three steps, almost trip on the second loose one, and go inside before he turned and walked away.

Instead of heading for a saloon or back to his hotel Butler found himself going back to Hank’s place. When he entered he found the man sitting at one of his own tables, waiting for him.

“I thought you’d be back.”

“Curiosity, is all,” Butler said.

“I appeciate you tryin’ to help me,” Hank said. “Yer probably wondering why I reacted the way I did.”

“You know, I was wondering,” Butler said, “but then halfway I realized you don’t owe me any explanation.”

“That’s true,” Hank said, “but I think I’d like to give you one.” He stood up. “Come into the kitchen with me.”

He led Butler into the kitchen, which was so cramped there was barely room for the two of them and the stove. In one corner, however, was a wooden chest. Hank stopped and pressed his knee against it, turning to face Butler.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I have a feeling about you. I have a feeling you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?”

“My past is in this chest.”

“Your past…as a blacksmith?”

“That’s only part of it,” Hank said. “See, I think we all live our lives in sections. I’m almost fifty now, maybe in the last part of my life, maybe not. But the part of my life that I don’t want anyone to know about is in this chest.”

Hank leaned over, his back to Butler, opened the chest and reached inside. When he straightened and turned he was holding a gun, and Butler’s stomach clenched. But then he saw that the gun was holstered, and the belt was wrapped around. Hank turned and showed the holstered weapon to Butler.

“Now do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Butler said, “I think I do.”