“Ain’t nobody afraid of my itty-bitty royal flush?” Deaver asked. “Mr. Thompson, with them fours you’re likely to keep yer luck runnin’ poorly—”
Suddenly, Ben Thompson’s gun was in his hand. Rahy and Kane, spectators, pushed their chairs back, as if to jump up and run, but all Thompson did was put his gun down on the table.
“You gonna bet yer gun, Ben?” Deaver asked. “Runnin’ short of funds?”
“No,” Thompson said, “I’m gonna kill you if you say one more word. Just play your cards, boy. You been runnin’ your mouth at me since you sat down. It stops now. Just play your cards and shut the hell up.”
“Now, Mr. Thompson, I didn’t mean—”
Thompson cocked the pistol and the table fell quiet. Suddenly, people around them noticed the gun and the room quieted as well.
“Play, you pansy fucker, and don’t say another word except ‘raise’ or ‘call’.”
Butler watched Deaver closely. The younger man bit his lip, eyed Thompson’s gun. If he’d been trying to goad Ben Thompson, he certainly didn’t want to make his play with Thompson’s gun already on the table.
Finally, he made up his mind and pushed all his money into the pot.
“I have three thousand and some dollars here,” he said. “I bet it all.”
Butler looked into the younger man’s glassy eyes and knew he was bluffing. He knew there was no royal flush, but he also knew that both he and Thompson had the boy beat. Deaver was desperate to bluff them out and take their money—especially Thompson’s.
“I’m going to have to go into my pocket to call this bet, Ben,” Butler said to Thompson. “That all right with you?”
“Go ahead,” Thompson said. “I have no beef with you, Butler.”
Butler pulled some money from his inside jacket pocket. It was the five thousand he’d gotten from Three-Eyed Jack for the marker the kid had written him. He peeled off three thousand and put the other two back.
“I call,” he said, and tossed the money into the pot.
“You call?” Deaver asked, in disbelief.
“Not only don’t you have a royal, son,” Butler said, “you’ve got nothing at all.”
“H-how do you know that?” Deaver demanded. “I could have a royal.”
“No you can’t you stupid shit,” Rahy said. “I folded your ten of spades. If you’d watch the cards you’d know that.”
“Huh?” Deaver thought a moment, then said, “I want my money back.”
“Leave it!” Thompson shouted.
By now everybody in the Alhambra was either watching or, if they were too far away or blocked, listening.
“He’s right,” Thompson said, “we both got you beat. I’ve got three fours, but I’m folding because I think Butler has us both beat.”
Ben Thompson turned all his cards facedown.
“You’re called, Mike,” Rahy, the dealer, said. “Whataya got?”
“Huh? Oh, I got…well…”
“Just turn the card over,” the dealer said.
Deaver did. Butler had been wrong. He did have something. A pair of kings. Still would have made him third in a three-handed pot. Butler turned over his third ten.
“Three tens is the winner,” Rahy said.
“Nice hand, Mr, Butler,” Thompson said, putting his gun away.
“Thank you, Mr. Thompson.” Butler raked in his money.
Mike Deaver sat with a stunned look on his ace. Butler watched him carefully, now that Thompson’s gun was off the table.
“You still playing, Mike?” Rahy asked as Ben Thompson gathered the cards for his deal.
“Huh? Oh, uh, no, I’m…busted.”
“Then get the hell up and let somebody else play,” Thompson said to him. “Go on…get!”
Deaver stood up and Butler saw the silver gun with a pearl handle on his hip. The boy was no gunman, just a show off.
As Deaver left and new players sat down, Butler thought it had been a hell of a first hand.
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.
CHAPTER 14
Butler woke up the next morning with a warm, naked hip pressed against his. He frowned, then remembered that he had finally decided to take Dog Kelley up on his offer for a free woman. He lifted himself up onto his elbows to take a look at her. Her face, in repose, was pretty, and young looking. Her body was long and lean, her skin smooth and clear. Butler figured she wasn’t more than twenty-five. He remembered more, that Kelley had given him his choice of any woman, and when he had picked this one, Dog had congratulated him.