The Honest Dealer

Chapter Twenty

Gilbert Honsinger, wearing a black tie, came into the dining room as Johnny and Sam were eating their pie a la mode.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “are you ready for that game?”

“Tiddledy-winks, parcheesi or lotto,” said Johnny. “You name the game.”

“Poker.”

“I cut my eyeteeth on poker,” said Sam Cragg.

“Then shall we go?”

“Go?” asked Johnny.

“Chatsworth’s invited us to his place.”

Johnny pushed back his chair.

The three men left the casino by the rear door, where a large limousine was waiting. A pasty-faced man of about thirty sat behind the wheel.

Honsinger held open the tonneau door for Johnny and Sam and when they had stepped inside, followed. He seated himself in the middle.

“All right, Tod,” he said to the driver, “Chatsworth’s Ranch.”

The car leaped forward, swung into the drive beside the hotel and zoomed to the highway. It was doing sixty within a hundred yards.

“Heard about Mrs. Langford’s husband?” Johnny asked casually.

Honsinger nodded. “He had it coming.”

“How much did his boys nick you for?”

Honsinger smiled thinly. “Not me, Fletcher.”

“I heard they got two hundred thousand from you and some of the other fellows.”

“Riley Brown’s going to be at Chatsworth’s,” Honsinger said.

Johnny shrugged. “The more players the more money I’ll win.”

It was still daylight, although the sun was touching the mountains in the west. It was the best time of the day and Johnny leaned back and enjoyed the scenery. The limousine swished past El Rancho Vegas, The Last Frontier and after a couple of miles turned off on a good graveled road that dipped into a dry-wash a half mile from the main highway. It ran beside the dry-wash for a mile or so, then turned right through a field of huge boulders.

Coming into the clear, Johnny got his first view of the buildings of the H-C Ranch. He whistled softly. Money had gone into this place. There was a square mile or so of irrigated pasture — planted fruit trees and behind a stone wall, an enormous rambling ranch house and innumerable bunkhouses, stables and outhouses.

Several cars were parked in front of the house and a Mexican ranch hand sprang forward and opened the car door as Tod, Honsinger’s chauffeur, stopped the limousine.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said the ranch hand in perfect English.

“Hello, Pancho,” Honsinger said easily.

He led the way into the ranch house, where an enormously fat Indian woman received them and padded ahead to a game room that was at least thirty by forty feet.

It contained, among other things, a pocket billiard table.

A poker table had been set up in the center of the room, but Chatsworth and several guests were at a full-sized bar at the far end of the room, where a Mexican, in Spanish costume, was dispensing drinks.

Chatsworth shook hands with Honsinger and Johnny; pretended not to see Sam Cragg.

“Gil,” Chatsworth said, “you know Riley Brown. Fletcher, Mr. Brown...”

Johnny shook hands with a cold-eyed gray-haired man.

“Hear you been doin’ all right, Mr. Fletcher,” Brown remarked.

A huge man in boots and Western costume turned from the bar.

“A hundred thousand is all right,” he boomed.

“My neighbor, Sim Page,” Chatsworth said. “His ranch extends over into the next county...”

The rancher crushed Johnny’s hand. “Glad to know you, Fletcher.” Then he reached for Sam Cragg’s hand. “And that goes for you, pardner...!”

A startled look came into his eyes. “Say...!”

He braced himself and gave Sam the old grip. Then suddenly his face whitened. Sam released his hand. “Harya, cowboy!”

“Gawdalmighty!” cried Page. “I been makin’ hombres yelp for forty years, but that’s the first time anyone made me quit on a handshake...”

“Well, gentlemen,” said Chatsworth, “shall we get at it? There’re a few more people dropping in later, but I’d like to do some poker playing before the party gets noisy.”

“Suits me,” exclaimed Page, the rancher.

Chatsworth apparently had in mind arranging the guests about the table to suit himself, but Johnny passed up the chair that was pointed out for him and seated himself on Riley Brown’s right.

Sam went around the table and plopped down in a chair directly opposite. Chatsworth showed some annoyance, but sat down on Sam’s left. That left Honsinger on Sam’s right and Page between Johnny and Honsinger.

“You’re all my guests, gentlemen,” Chatsworth announced them. “You decide what it’ll be.”

“You mean there’re people who play a limit game?” demanded Page.

“How about a buck?” Sam Cragg asked.

Gilbert Honsinger smiled thinly, but the cold-eyed Riley Brown fixed Sam with a cold stare. “What’s a buck?”

Johnny laughed. “Sam’s got to have his joke.”

“Then it’s table stakes?” Chatsworth asked.

“Sure,” said Page. “Table stakes and whatever else you want to bet.”

“I’m loaded myself,” Johnny said carelessly. He took out a packet of bills and dumped a handful of yellow checks on the tables. “These good here?”

“They’re good with me,” replied Chatsworth.

“I’ll redeem them,” Honsinger promised.

The waiter brought cards from behind the bar, two packs. Chatsworth fanned out one deck and they drew for the deal. Honsinger won it.

“Draw,” he announced, “with twenty-five ante...”

Sam threw a quarter into the center of the table. Chatsworth picked it up and threw it to the floor. Johnny tossed in a yellow check. Sam blinked.

“Huh!”

Sam grinned feebly and brought out the yellow checks Johnny had won for him at the last crap game — thirty-two. He slid one into the pot. Honsinger, Page, Brown and Chatsworth brought out cash. In setting a stack of bills in front of him, Chatsworth exposed the bottom bill. It was a thousand dollar note.

Honsinger dealt swiftly.

“Can you open with a pair of sevens?” Sam asked, looking at his cards.

“Jacks or better,” Honsinger said, “when I deal.”

“Then I pass.”

Chatsworth passed.

The rancher tossed two fifty-dollar bills into the pot. “She’s opened.”

Johnny looked at his cards. He had a pair of aces, the king of diamonds, the jack of diamonds and the ten of diamonds. One of the aces was a diamond. A possible straight, a possible flush or a possible Royal Flush... if he discarded the second ace.

He put a hundred dollar bill into the pot.

Riley Brown called by putting up his money.

Honsinger threw in his cards. Sam stalled but finally called. So did Chatsworth.

“Cards, gentlemen,” Honsinger asked.

Sam took three cards. “To your sevens?” Honsinger asked.

“Why not?” Sam retorted.

Chatsworth drew one card. Page two. Johnny started to throw away his ace, then suddenly changed his mind and discarded the jack and ten, holding the aces and the king.

“I’ll take three,” said Brown. “And it’s your bet, Mr. Page.”

“Is two hundred too much?” Page asked, grinning hugely.

Johnny looked at the first card that had been dealt to him. It was the queen of diamonds. Had he drawn for it, he would have made a royal flush. The other card was a seven... a card that Sam Cragg could well have used.

He said, “Let’s see where they are, men. I raise it three hundred.”

“Call,” said Brown, laconically.

Honsinger smiled. “I’m glad I dropped.”

“I wish to hell I had,” Sam growled. “I got another seven, but it’s only going to cost me money.” He counted out twenty chips and surveyed the eight he had left.

“I connected,” Chatsworth announced, “so I’m calling and raising you five hundred, Fletcher.” He picked up his bills, pulled out the thousand dollar note from the bottom and tossed it into the pot.

“Jeez!” cried Sam. He picked up the bill; held it to the light. “Counterfeit?”

Chatsworth laughed without humor.

“Good-bye, boys,” said Page. He showed a pair of kings. “Openers.”

Johnny counted out five hundred dollars, continued with five more. “Up five.” He laughed. “I said that as if these were dollar bills.”

“Well, boys,” said Riley Brown, “it looks like you intend to play some poker. In that case I raise it two thousand.”

“Ow!” cried Sam. He turned up his cards, revealing that he had drawn the case seven.

Chatsworth looked steadily across the table at Riley Brown. Then he began counting out bills — hundreds. Twenty made quite a sizeable addition to the pot. “I call,” he said shortly.

A little shiver ran through Johnny. He had no business in this pot, but he had already invested eleven hundred dollars in it. Riley Brown had drawn three cards — had probably gone in with a pair. He might have drawn another pair, perhaps three of a kind. He figured that Chats-worth had gone in on a possible straight or flush and had connected. He would beat Brown. And he was a cinch to beat Johnny’s one pair. Yet Johnny had drawn two cards. Calling a two thousand dollar bet ought to indicate a full house. But somehow, Johnny thought Brown and Chatsworth would call.

He threw in his hand. “Beats me.”

Riley Brown finally smiled. “I’ve got three sixes.”

“Beats two pair,” said Chatsworth.

Sam howled. “My three sevens wouldda won!”

“You’re playing poker, son,” Page, the rancher, announced dramatically.

Honsinger handed the fresh pack of cards to Sam to shuffle and deal. Johnny looking up, saw Jane Langford coming into the room. Jane Langford and Charles Halton.

“Poker!” cried Halton. “Mind if I sit in for a few hands, Jane?”

“Not at all,” replied Jane.

Chatsworth got up and introduced Halton to Riley Brown and Page. Jane, it seemed, already knew them.