Texas Bluff

CHAPTER 11

By seven A.M. Dick Clark was ready to quit, Jack had fallen into a hole. Al Newman was ahead, and Butler was the big winner. With players moving in and out of the game there had been eleven overall. With a three thousand dollar buy-in that put better than thirty-three thousand dollars in play—depending on how many players had bought in for more than that—and Butler had more than half of that.

“You were bad luck for me, Butler,” Three-Eyed Jack said good-naturedly. “My luck went south when you sat down.”

“Ever think I just outplayed you, Jack?” Butler asked. “Or that you were too hot for too long and just burned out?”

Jack thought for a moment, and then said, “I don’t like either one of those. I prefer to think you were bad luck for me.”

They all began taking their jackets off the back of their chairs, tucking money away in their wallets, buttoning their shirts.

“I need a long bath,” Butler said.

“I think we all do,” Dick Clark said. “Where are you stayin’?”

“Up the street,” Butler said. “A place called the Wisteria, whatever that means.”

“I think it’s a plant,” Al Newman said. “It’s also a very good hotel.”

“Somebody’s got to let Luke know we’re done,” Clark said. “He’ll want to lock this room.”

“I’ll find him,” Butler said. “I want to thank him for bringing me into a game with such easy pickings.”

“You’re not leaving town, are you?” Dick Clark asked.

“Are you kidding?” Butler asked. “I may never leave.”

“Good, I’ll be here awhile, we can have another go at it.”

“Any time,” Butler said.

“Jack?”

“I’m supposed to head out,” Three-Eyed Jack said, “but after this I may need to rest up. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“You ready for some more, Al?” Dick Clark asked.

Al Newman seemed very pleased to be asked and said, “Just name the time.”

“We’ll set it up with Luke and let you know,” Clark promised.

They all left the room together, made their way down a hall and came out into the casino, which at that time of the morning was empty.

“I’ve never seen this room like this,” Dick Clark said.

“It’s so quiet,” Newman said.

All the gaming tables were covered and the bar was closed. They went down the long stairway to the main floor and found the same to be true there.

“Luke is probably in his bed,” Dick Clark said. “His wife probably wouldn’t take too kindly to us wakin’ him—and her.”

“You’re probably right,” Butler said. “I’ll come by later and see him.”

However, when they made their way to the front door they found a man sleeping in a chair. He was wearing a gun and had his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“I think this is our man,” Butler said. “He’s probably here to lock the doors after we leave.”

“I hate to wake him,” Jack said.

“You already did,” the man said. He pushed his hat up off his eyes and squinted up at them. “You the fellers were in the private game?”

“That’s right,” Clark said. “The game’s over.”

“Okay,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll lock up behind ya.”

“Thanks,” Clark said. “Let Luke know we appreciate it.”

“I’ll tell ’im.” The man yawned widely.

“What’s your name?” Butler asked.

“I’m Victor,” the man said. “Just Victor.”

“Well, get some sleep, Victor,” Butler said. “Sorry to have to wake you.”

“No problem,” Victor assured them. “This is what I get paid for.”

Outside Newman asked, “Anybody for breakfast? I know a great place just down the street.”

“As the only player who lives here, I’ll bet you do,” Butler said. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Not me,” Dick Clark said. “I’m turnin’ in.”

“Me too,” Jack said. “These old bones need rest.”

“’Night, gents,” Newman said. “Thanks again for the game—and the lessons.”

“Seems to me you learned your lessons pretty well, Al,” Jack told him.

“Good night,” Clark said.

“How far we going?” Butler asked Newman.

“Like I said, just down the street, this way.”

“Lead on, then,” Butler said. “I’m almost as hungry as I am tired.”