Kid Wolf of Texas

by Paul S. Powers

  CHAPTER XVI

  A GAME OF POKER

  A whitened human skull, fastened to a post by a rusty tenpenny nail,served as a signboard and notified the passing traveler that he wasabout to enter the limits of Skull, New Mexico.

  "Oh, we're ridin' 'way from Texas, and the Rio, Comin' to a town with a mighty scary name, Shall we turn and vamos pronto for the Rio, Or show some hombres how to make a wild town tame?"

  Kid Wolf, who appeared to be asking Blizzard the rather poeticalquestion, eyed the gruesome monument with a half smile. Bullet holesmarked it here and there, testifying that many a passer-by with moremarksmanship than respect had used it for a casual target. The emptysockets seemed to glare spitefully, and the shattered upper jaw grinnedin mockery at the singer. It was as if the grisly relic had heard thesong and laughed. Kid Wolf's smile flashed white against the copper ofhis face. Then his smile disappeared and his eyes, blue-gray, took onfrosty little glints.

  The Kid, after straightening out the troubled affairs of the Thomasfamily, was heading northwest again. It was the age-old wanderlustthat led him out of the Rio country once more.

  "What do yo' say, Blizzahd?" he drawled.

  His tones held just a trace of sarcasm. It was as if he had weighedthe veiled threat in the town's sign and found it grimly humorousinstead of sinister.

  The big white horse threw up its shapely head in a gesture ofimpatience that was almost human.

  "All right, Blizzahd," approved its rider. "Into Skull, New Mexico, wego!"

  Kid Wolf had heard something of Skull's reputation, and although it wasjust accident that had turned him this way, he was filled with a mildcuriosity. The Texan never made trouble, but he was hardly the man toavoid it if it crossed his path.

  As he neared the town, he was rather surprised at its size. Thebudding cattle industry had boomed the surrounding country, and Skullhad grown like a mushroom. Lights were twinkling in the twilight froma hundred windows, and as the newcomer passed the scattered adobes atthe edge of it, he could hear the _clip-clop_ of many horses, the soundof men's voices, and mingled strains of music. The little city wasevidently very much alive.

  There were two principal streets, cutting each other at right angles,each more than a hundred yards long and jammed with buildings of frameand sod. Kid Wolf read the signs on them as the horse trottedsouthward:

  "Bar. Tony's Place. Saloon. General merchandise. Saddle shop. Bar.Saloon. Hotel and bar. Well, well, seems as if we have mo' than ouahshare o' saloons heah. This seems to be the biggest one. Shall westop heah, Blizzahd?"

  There seemed to be no choice in the matter. One could take his pick ofsaloons, for nothing else was open at this hour. The sign over thelargest read, "The Longhorn Palace."

  Kid Wolf left Blizzard at the hitch rack and sauntered through the opendoors. A lively scene met his eyes. It interested and at the sametime disgusted The Kid. A long bar stretched from the front door tothe end of the building, and a dozen or more men leaned against it invarious stages of intoxication. In spite of the fact that the salooninterior was well lighted by suspended oil lamps, the air was thick andfoul with liquor fumes and cigarette smoke. A half dozen gamblingtables, all busy, stood at the far end of the room.

  The mirror behind the bar was chipped here and there with bullet marks,and over it were three enormous steer heads with wide-spreading horns.It was evident that drunken marksmen had taken pot shots at theseornaments, also, for they were pitted here and there with .45 holes.Kid Wolf was by no means impressed. He had been in bad towns aplenty,and he usually found that the evil of them was pure bluff and bravado.Smiling, he strolled over to the gambling tables.

  The stud-poker table attracted his attention, first by the size of thestakes and then by the men gathered there. It was a stiff game,opening bets sometimes being as much as fifty dollars. Apparently thelid was off.

  The hangers-on in the Longhorn seemed to be of one type and resembledprofessional gunmen more than they did cattlemen. The men at the pokertable looked like desperadoes, and one of them especially took TheKid's observing eye.

  A huge-chested man in a checkered shirt was at the head of the tableand seemed to have the game well in hand, for his chip stacks werehigh, and a pile of gold pieces lay behind them. His closely croppedblack beard could not conceal the cruelty of his flaring nostrils andsensual mouth. He was overbearing and loud of speech, and hismenacing, insolent stare seemed to have every one cowed.

  Kid Wolf was a keen student of men. He had learned to read humannature, and this gambler interested him as a thoroughly brutal specimen.

  "It'll cost yuh-all another hundred to stay and see this out," thebearded man announced with a sneer.

  "I'm out," grunted one of the players.

  Another, with "more in sight" than the bearded gambler, turned over hiscards in disgust, and with a chuckle of joy, the first speaker draggedin the pot and added the chips to his mounting stacks. He seemed tohave the others buffaloed.

  The card players had been absorbed in their game until now. But as thenew deal was begun, the bearded gambler saw the Texan's eyes upon him.

  "Are yuh starin' at me?" he rasped. "Walk away, or get in--one o' thetwo. Yuh'll kill my luck."

  "Pahdon me, sah. I don't think I could kill such luck as yo's."

  The Kid's voice was full of soothing politeness. The gambler made themistake of thinking the stranger in awe of him. Many a man before himhad taken the Texan's soft, drawling speech the wrong way.

  "Well, are yuh gettin' in the game?"

  "I'm not a gamblin' man, sah." The Texan smiled.

  The bearded man exposed his teeth in a contemptuous leer.

  "From yore talk, yo're nothin' but a cheap cotton picker. Guess thisgame's too stiff fer yuh," he said.

  The expression of the Texan's face did not change, but curious littleflecks of light appeared in his steellike eyes. He laughed quietly.

  "I'd get in," he said, "but I'd hate to take yo' money."

  "Don't let that worry yuh," the big-chested gambler snarled. "Sit in,or shut up and get out!"

  If Kid Wolf was angered, he made no sign of it. His lips still smiled,as he drew a chair up to the table.

  "Deal me in," he drawled.

  The atmosphere of the game seemed to change. It was as if all theplayers had united to fleece the newcomer, with the bearded desperadoleading the attack.

  At first, Kid Wolf lost, and the gambler--called "Blacksnake" McCoy bythe other men--added to his chip stacks. Then the game seesawed, afterwhich the Texan began to win small bets steadily. But the crisis wascoming. Sooner or later, Blacksnake would try to run Kid Wolf out, andthe Texan knew it.

  The size of the bets increased, and a little crowd began to gatherabout the stud table. In spite of the fact that Blacksnake was aswaggering, abusive-mouthed fellow, the sympathies of the Longhornloafers seemed to be with him.

  He seemed to be a sort of leader among them, and a group of sullen-eyedgunmen were looking on, expecting to see Kid Wolf beaten in short order.

  Finally a tenseness in the very air testified to the fact that the timefor big action had come. The pot was already large, and all haddropped out except Blacksnake and the drawling stranger.

  "I'm raisin' yuh five hundred, 'Cotton-picker,'" sneered the beardedman insolently.

  He had a pair of aces in sight--a formidable hand--and if his hole cardwas also an ace, Kid Wolf had not a chance in the world. The best theTexan could show up was a pair of treys.

  "My name, sah," said Kid Wolf politely, "is not Cotton-pickah, althoughthat is bettah than 'Bone-pickah'--an appropriate name fo' some people.I'm Kid Wolf, sah, from Texas. And my enemies usually learn to call meby mah last name. I'm seein' yo' bet and raisin' yo' another fivehundred, sah."

  At the name "Kid Wolf," a stir was felt in the crowded saloon. It wasa name many of them had heard before, and most of the loungers began tolook upon the stranger with more respect. Others frowne
d darkly.Blacksnake was one of them. Plainly, what he had heard of The Kid didnot tend to make the latter popular in his estimation.

  "Excuse me," he spat out. "I should have called yuh 'Nose-sticker.'From what I hear of yuh, yuh have a habit of mindin' other folks'business. Well, that ain't healthy in Skull."

  If the Texan was provoked by these insults, he did not show it. Heonly smiled gently.

  "We're playin' pokah now, I believe," he reminded. "Are yuh seein' mahbet?"

  "That's right, bet 'em like yuh had 'em. And I hope yore hole card'sanother three-spot, for that'll make it easy for my buried ace. I'mseein' yuh and boostin' it--for yore pile!"

  Quietly The Kid swept all his chips into the center of the table. Hehad called, and it was a show-down. With an oath, Blacksnake got halfto his feet. He turned his hole card over. It was a nine-spot, but hehad Kid Wolf beaten unless----

  Slowly The Kid revealed his hole card. It was not a trey, but a four.Just as good, for this made him two small pairs--threes and fours. Hehad won!

  "No," he drawled, "I wouldn't reach for my gun, if I were yo'."

  Blacksnake took his hand away from the butt of his .45. It came awayfaster than it had gone for it. Guns had appeared suddenly in theTexan's two hands. His draw had been so swift that nobody had caughtthe elusive movement.

  "This game is bein' played with cahds, even if they are crooked cahds,and not guns, sah!"

  "Crooked!" breathed Blacksnake. "Are yuh hintin' that I'm a crook?"

  "I'm not hintin'," said The Kid, with a flashing smile. "I'm sayin' itright out. The aces in that deck were marked in the cornahs withthumb-nail scratches. It might have gone hahd with me, if I hadn'tmahked the othah cahds too--with thumb-nail scratches!"

  "Yuh admit yuh marked them cards?" yelled Blacksnake in fury. "Whatabout it, men? He's a cheat and ought to be strung up!"

  Most of the onlookers were doing their best to conceal grins, and evenBlacksnake's sympathizers made no move to do anything. Perhaps TheKid's two drawn six-shooters had something to do with it.

  "Yuh got two thousand dollars from this game--twenty hundred even,"Blacksnake snarled. "Are yuh goin' to return that money?"

  "I'll put the money wheah it belongs," the Texan drawled. "Gentlemen,when I said I wasn't a gamblin' man, I meant it. I nevah gamble. Butwhen I saw that this game was not a gamble, but just a cool robbery, Isat in."

  He holstered one of his guns and swooped up the pile of money from thecenter of the table. This cleaned it, save for one pile of chips infront of the bearded bully.

  "It's customary," said Kid Wolf, "always to kick in with a chip fo' the'kitty,' and so----"

  His Colt suddenly blazed. There was a quick finger of orange-coloredfire and a puff of smoke. The top chip of Blacksnake's stack suddenlyhad disappeared, neatly clipped off by The Kid's bullet. And the Texanhad shot casually from the hip, apparently without taking aim!

  Kid Wolf returned his still-smoking gun to its holster, turned his backand sauntered leisurely toward the door. Halfway to it, he turnedquickly. He did not draw his guns again, but only looked Blacksnakesteadily in the eyes.

  "Remembah," he said, "that I can see yo' in the mirrah."

  With an oath, Blacksnake took his hand away from his gun butt, towardwhich it had been furtively traveling. He had forgotten about thebullet-scarred glass over the long bar.

  As the Texan strolled through the door, a man who had been watching thescene turned to follow him.

  "Kid Wolf," he called, "I'd like to see yuh, alone."

  The voice was friendly. Kid Wolf turned, and as he did so, he jostledthe speaker, apparently by accident.

  "Excuse me," drawled the Texan. "I didn't know yo' were so closebehind me."

  "I'm a friend," said the other earnestly. "Let's walk down the streeta way. I've something important to say--something that might interestyuh."

  The Kid had appraised him at a glance, although this stranger was farfrom being an ordinary person either in face or dress. His garb wassevere and clerical. He wore a long black coat, black trousers neatlytucked into boots, a white shirt, and a flowing dark tie. Yet he wasnot of the gambler type. He seemed to be unarmed, for he had no gunbelt. His face, seen from the reflected lights of the saloon, wasclean-shaven. His eyes seemed set too close together, and the lipswere very thin.

  "Very well, I'll listen," The Kid consented.

  The two started to walk slowly down the board sidewalk.

  "They call me 'Gentleman John,'" said the black-clothed stranger."Have yuh been in Skull long? Expect to stay hereabouts for a while?"

  The Texan answered both these questions shortly but politely. He hadarrived that evening, he said, and he wasn't sure how long he wouldremain in the vicinity.

  "How would yuh like," tempted the man who had styled himself GentlemanJohn, "to make a hundred dollars a day?"

  "Honestly?" asked The Kid.

  The man in black pursed his lips and spread out his palms significantly.

  "Whoever heard of a gunman making that much honestly?" he laughedcoldly. "Maybe I should tell yuh somethin' about myself. They call methe 'Cattle King of New Mexico.' The man yuh bucked in the pokergame--Blacksnake McCoy--is at the head of my--ah--outfit."

  "Oh," said The Kid softly, "yo're that kind of a cattle king."

  "Out here," Gentleman John leered, "the Colt is power. I've gotranches, cattle. I've managed to do well. I need gunmen--men who canshoot fast and obey orders. I can see that yo're a better man thanBlacksnake. I'm payin' him fifty a day. Take his job, and yuh'll geta hundred."

  Kid Wolf did not seem in the least enthusiastic, and the man in blackwent on eagerly:

  "Yuh won a couple o' thousand to-night, Kid. But that won't lastforever. Think what a hundred in gold a day means. And all yuh haveto do is ter----"

  "Murdah!" snapped the Texan. "Yo've mistaken yo' man, sah. Mah answahis 'no'! I'm not a hired killah, and the man who tries to hire me hadbettah beware. Why, yo're nothin' but a cheap cutthroat!"

  The cold eyes of the other suddenly blazed. He made a quick motiontoward his waistcoat with his thin hand.

  Kid Wolf laughed quietly. "Heah's yo' gun, sah," he said, handing theastonished Gentleman John a small, ugly derringer. "When I bumped intoyo' in the doorway, I took the liberty to remove it. I nevah trust anhombre with eyes like yo's. Nevah mind tryin' to use it, fo' I'veunloaded it."

  The face of the man in black was white with fury. His gimlet eyes hadnarrowed to slits, and his mouth was distorted with rage. It was theface of a killer--a murderer without conscience or pity.

  "I'll get yuh for this, Wolf!" he bellowed. "Yuh'll find out howstrong I am here. This country isn't big enough to hold us both, blastyuh! When our trails meet again, take care!"

  The Kid raised one eyebrow. "I always do take care," he drawled. "Andwhile I'm heah in Skull County, yo'd bettah keep yo' dirty work undahcovah. Adios!"

  And humming musically under his breath, The Kid strolled toward thehitch rack where he had left his horse.