Texas Bluff

CHAPTER 5

Butler was surprised at how quickly his fortunes had changed. In truth, it probably would not have happened had Luke Short not been desperately looking for some high-stakes poker players.

Short admitted as much as he walked Butler to one of the private rooms.

“I’m afraid I’ve been driven to trollin’ for poker players,” he said. “When I saw your face I knew you were disappointed in what you were seein’.”

“Well,” Butler replied, “since we’re telling the truth, I was trying to figure out how to get invited into one of your games. I’d been told by a bartender downstairs, and one of your customers, that it was almost impossible.”

“Which customer?”

“A fella named Newman? Al Newman. Said he was a lawyer who once ran—”

“—for district attorney, yes. My partner, Bill Ward, has been tryin’ to get me to let Newman into one of the games.”

“Yes, he said he was friends with Ward, and that didn’t help.”

“Doesn’t help, doesn’t hurt,” Short said. “I’m afraid Mr. Newman is just not up to the caliber of player I’m lookin’ for.”

“What makes you think I am?”

“Let’s just say that Bat gave you his all-around endorsement. Here we are.”

Short opened a door and allowed Butler to precede him into the room. Inside he saw one table with five men seated at it. There was one extra, empty chair.

“Usually I fill this game out myself,” Short said. “I was close to doing that tonight. In fact, I was close to letting Al Newman in, but now I have you.”

Butler almost felt bad, as if he was taking the seat right out from under Al Newman.

Short took Butler up to the table, waited for the hand that was in progress to be completed, and then introduced him.

“Gents, this young feller is Tyrone Butler, a good friend of mine and of Bat Masterson’s.”

That was one way to get people’s attention, and it worked.

“Butler, around the table starting here are Dick Clark, Charlie Coe, Jake Johnson, John Tunney, and that feller there is Jack Archer, otherwise known as—”

“—Three-Eyed Jack,” Butler finished.

He circled the table and shook hands with Jack, who he had last seen in Wichita over two years ago. Jack rose and the two pumped hands.

“You two obviously know each other,” Short said.

“A coupla years back me and this young feller terrorized the gamblers in Wichita for a time,” Jack explained.

“You know,” Butler said, “I never did hear your last name back then.”

“Don’t use it much,” Jack said.

“What’re you doing here?” Butler asked. “Last I heard you were going to stay in Wichita.”

“I did for a while, but then it dried up real bad. I had no choice but to leave. Found my way here a couple of weeks ago, decided to stay.”

“He can’t leave,” Clark said good-naturedly, “he’s got all our money.”

“Your money, maybe,” Coe said.

“Can we get this game back on track?” John Tunney asked. “The only way I’m gonna get my money back is to keep these cards in the air.”

“Sorry,” Short said, “didn’t mean to disrupt the game. I was just bringin’ Butler in to fill the last chair.”

“Good,” Johnson said, “maybe that’ll change Jack’s luck.”

“Buy in’s three thousand to start, Butler,” Short said.

“Not a problem,” Butler said.

“Re-buy as many times as you want, after that,” Short said.

“No chips?” Butler asked, seating himself at the table.

“Cash plays,” Jack said, reseating himself as well. “I like the sound of paper money.”

“Especially other people’s, huh, Jack?” Clark asked

Butler knew Dick Clark by reputation. The man had made a fortune in the mining camps of Colorado, and had never dirtied his hands. It had all been done with cards.

He also recognized Charlie Coe’s name from the circuit. He’d never played against him, but knew men who had.

He didn’t know the others, but he intended to. He’d spend a few hands getting to know them real well before he actually began to get involved in the game.