by J. T. Edson
Waco took the seat next to Keith Wellington with no idea who the young man was. Lou introduced himself, Keith and Joe just by their christian names and Waco told them the only name he’d ever known. He did not remember Molly’s cx-fiancé’s name or connect this young dude with him. He noted Keith was flushed and worried looking and could guess why.
Keith felt relieved when Waco sat in. The game was getting out of his depth and he was losing heavily. It was the opposite of the early stages when the stakes were low and his luck very good. Hand after hand came to him and brought in pot after pot. Then Lou asked if they could raise the stakes. From a friendly and harmless five to twenty-five cent limit it was now fifty cents to five dollars and Keith’s luck had changed for the worse. Now he could rarely do anything right and was losing heavily. His suspicions were aroused but he could not get over the fact that he chose the cards.
Waco accepted the cards after Lou’s deal and gave them an awkward overhand stack, the way the veriest amateur would handle cards. He offered the cards to Lou to cut, then dealt in a clumsy way which brought grins to Lou and Joe’s face. He’d laid his money on the table and they were eager to add it to Keith’s pile. It shouldn’t be hard; a man who dealt in such a manner would not cause them any trouble.
In that casual stack Waco checked the cards and could see no sign of their being marked. That meant the two men were using other methods to take Keith’s roll from him. He knew his awkward handling of the cards was lulling the suspicions of the two men. They did not guess he knew how to handle cards and knew more than a little of the ways of crooked gamblers. His eyes were alert. Without appearing to, he saw everything. He saw Joe make what appeared to be a nervous gesture, gently and quickly pull the second of his five cards out. Just an apparently casual pull but it told Lou, and Waco, Joe held a pair.
The betting went the rounds and Waco discarded his hand right off while watching him and in a casual move he extracted three jacks, laying them on the top of the deck. The move was done fast and unseen by any of the others. He waited for betting to end then asked, ‘Cards gents?’ hoping Keith held a pair and took three cards.
‘Take three,’ Keith answered.
Picking up the three cards Keith almost dropped them again. He was in the game with a pair of queens, now he held a full house, jacks and queens. Keeping his face impassive he managed to hold down his excitement as Joe took three cards and Lou two.
Joe grinned savagely. ‘I’ve got them this time, boys. So run for the hills.’
‘I never was any good at climbing,’ Keith replied and opened the betting eagerly.
Joe’s grin of triumph died an uneasy death as his three kings went under to the full house. He knew the chances of filling a full house from a three card draw were high. His eyes flickered to Waco but on the youngster’s face was nothing but mild interest. Joe decided it was pure bad luck which cost him this sizeable pot.
The game went on. Keith took the next pot and Lou reached for the cards and dealt. There was nothing wrong with the deal that Waco could see but he noticed that Keith showed the signs of having a good hand. Waco wondered where this young man learned to play poker. He wouldn’t last in a real rough game like this even without cheating. Waco once more discardedand Joe made a joking reference to it. At the same moment Lou fanned his cards out, tapped the top edge once in an apparently nervous move, then moved the third card up and down twice. Waco read the signal that Lou held three aces and caught Joe’s almost imperceptible agreement that he held the fourth. Waco knew what was coming now; it was called the spread and an old gambling trick.
The betting in the game was brisk for Keith held a flush dealt pat and felt he had a better than fair chance of winning. He shoved up the betting cheerily and the other two went along with it. Joe folded his cards and grunted.
‘This’s too rich for my blood.’
Waco watched the cards falling in a pile and knew that only four were there, the fifth, the desired ace was palmed by Joe ready for use. Lou was holding his cards bunched together but he fanned them out as a man would when the betting was steep. When he folded them together once more he’d got one card palmed. His left hand dropped out of sight behind the table in a casual move and slid the card between his knees, holding it. Now he only held four cards and needed the extra ace his partner was holding out.
Lou took one card on the draw, laying his four in a neat pile before him. He grinned knowingly as Keith declined to draw and pushed his draw card on to the others. Keith pushed the betting some more then called. This was what Waco was waiting for, the moment of the spread. Lou turned his cards, still in one pile and said, ‘Four aces.’
In a casual appearing move Joe reached across the table as if to spread the cards out, the palmed ace ready to drop into place. Waco moved fast, one hand shoving Lou’s cards to one side, the other reaching for Joe’s wrist. Fingers like steel damps closed on the man’s wrist and turned it, exposing the ace laying in his palm. Then Waco’s other hand shoved the cards, showing four, not five laying there.
Joe jerked his hand free, dipping it into his pocket. The light of the smoker glinted on the shining steel of his razor as it licked out at Waco’s face. The young Texan pitched sideways from his seat, the razor lashing over his head and ripping open the seat. Even as he fell Waco’s right hand went across his body and brought out his Colt. The crash of the shot sounded louder than a cannon in the confines of the smoker. Joe rocked backwards, hit under the armpit by the heavy bullet and thrown back on to the seat again.
There was a thud and Lou crashed from his seat, a small light calibre Smith & Wesson revolver caught half out of his pocket. Waco came to his feet and grinned his thanks to Keith, whose help, via a well placed left fist, saved him from what could have been a ticklish position.
‘Hold it!’ Waco gave a warning as he lined his Colt on Lou who was clawing for his gun again. ‘Let loose or I’ll drop you and I’ve got me a permit to do it.’
Lou licked his lips. He still thought this was an easy mark cowhand here, one who’d made a lucky guess. He’d never seen a real fast man with a gun and did not have any idea how fast and deadly one could be. He still kept his hand on his gun, snarling, ‘I’ll get—!’
‘Pouch it or I’ll let you join your friend,’ Waco answered, blue eyes never leaving the man ignoring Joe who was laying back with an arm which would never be of use to him again. ‘You must think we were real easy, friend, trying to pull the spread on us.’
It was in that moment Lou realised that he was up against something more than just a dressed up cowhand. Here was a man who was a master with a gun. Then it hit Lou. A man who knew enough about the cheating trick called the spread, knew more than a little about cards. He knew far more than a man who gave a clumsy, overhand stack should know.
The few occupants of the smoker were on their feet now and the conductor forced his way through them. He came up, a big, burly man well capable ot taking care of himself. ‘All right, all right. What’s it all about then?’
Waco did not take his eyes from Lou, who still held his revolver, as he answered. ‘These two tinhorns tried to take Chicago and me in a brace game. I caught them trying to use the spread on us. That gent there took his razor but I allow it’s some too late for shaving. If the other don’t let go of his gun I’ll help him to. Me’n ole Colonel Sam.’
‘Well, if it ain’t Joe and Lou.’ The conductor knew these two men from way back. ‘Haven’t I told you two not to use the train I’m conducting?’ He put his hand under his coat and took out a revolver. ‘Come on, both of you. Get down to the caboose. You’re getting off at the next whistlestop.’
For a moment Waco thought Lou was going to argue the matter but the man was no gunfighter and knew the conductor was capable of either shooting him down or felling him with the barrel of the gun. He rose and helped Joe up. Then his eyes turned to Waco, full of hate. ‘You should be throwing him off the train as well. He’s a damn cardshark.’
‘Me?’ Waco grinned, it mad
e him look about sixteen. ‘I’m just a lil ole Texas boy who got lucky.’
‘Yeah,’ the conductor’s voice was heavily sarcastic. ‘You sure look it.’
The conductor herded Lou and Joe from the smoker with a warning that he would be back. Waco shoved the Colt back under his coat again and waved to the money on the table. ‘There enough there to cover all you lost, Chicago?’
Keith counted the money and nodded. ‘Enough and more. Do you mean they were cheating all the time?’
‘Why sure. They weren’t real good at it though.’ Waco picked up the remaining money and made it into two equal piles. He took five dollars from each pile and scooped his share into his pocket, leaving the ten dollars and Keith’s pile on the table.
The conductor returned and found the two young men seated at the table. ‘You playing cards again?’ he asked.
‘Not me,’ Waco answered. ‘I only sat in to lend Chicago here a hand when the wolves were fleecing him. It was a real rough school you got tied in with, Chicago.’
Keith’s face reddened slightly. His Streeterville Sporting Club training did not appear to be so good after all when a chance passing stranger could spot he was being fleeced. He kept his mouth shut for this young man saved his bankroll for him and prevented him from making a complete fool of himself. He could imagine what Molly would say if she’d met him and he confessed a couple of cheap crooks took all his money in an easily spotted card game.
The conductor grinned, eyeing Waco warily. ‘Good, I wouldn’t want a boy as smart as you taking up where Joe and Lou left off. They’re good but you must be better, you caught them out.’
Waco took up the ten dollars, handing them to the conductor. He waved a hand to the roof of the smoker car where his bullet, after passing through Joe’s shoulder was now buried. ‘This’ll pay for the hole I put in the roof.’
The conductor accepted the money, folded it and put it in his pocket, then turned and walked away. Keith turned to the tall, young man who’d come so suddenly into his life and did not know how to express his thanks. ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ he began.
‘Don’t try. I sat in for the laughs and made some money out of it. You headed west?’
‘Yes, to the Ranse River country in Texas. I want to be a cowhand.’
Waco was naturally suspicious, more so when things were in the state that they were in Ranse River country. He wondered why, out of all the many miles of Texas this young dude was headed for the Ranse River country. He did not ask the obvious question for that would be against the etiquette of the land.
‘You thinking of settling down there?’ That much was permitted.
‘Maybe. I’d like to be a cowhand. I can ride a horse and shoot.’
‘There’s just a bit more to being a cowhand than riding and shooting. You got any place in mind down there to work?’
‘No.’ Keith could hardly explain his true reasons for going to Ranse River, not even to this youngster who’d saved his bankroll. ‘I decided to try and learn the cowhand business, maybe settle down out there and buy a ranch. I saw the Ranse River on the map and liked the sound of it. That’s why I’m going there.’
Waco did not speak for a moment but his mind was working. He was suspicious of the other’s motives. Of course the young man might be going innocently to Texas but there might be a more sinister motive. Waco was nearly sure he could lay a hand on the man who was behind the killing of his adopted father and the trouble in Ranse River Country. He could be wrong, this young dude might be the one. He made his decision right away and said:
‘I work in the Ranse River country myself. Just been to Chicago with my boss. Come along and happen Rusty’ll give you a riding chore.’
Keith thought this was a remarkable coincidence, meeting a man who was from the Ranse River Country. The offer of work was attractive. It might make Molly change her mind about him if she met him in Whittle while he was actually working for another ranch in the area. He did not connect the name Rusty with Molly. She’d talked about Mary Anne Catlan but Keith did not remember it. Nor did he guess Waco’s real reason for offering him work was to keep an eye on him and have him where his movements could be watched. He gave his agreement to going along and seeing Waco’s boss, expecting to meet a lethery cowhand.
The two young men made their way to the sleepers and Waco knocked on a door. A most unmasculine voice called out to know who was knocking.
‘Waco and a friend.’
The door opened and Mary Anne looked out, her Merwin & Hulbert gun in her hand. ‘Hey, lil brother,’ she greeted. ‘We were just set to go to bed. Who’s your friend?’
‘A tophand from Chicago, headed west and looking for a riding chore. I told him we’d likely be able to take on another hand.’
Mary Anne smiled, suspecting a typical cowhand joke. Waco looked serious about it, but he would even if it was a joke. Of course the other young man might be headed west and looking for work but the Ranse River country was not the best place for a dude to come in and start learning to earn his pay. The young man was well dressed and did not look as if he was coming west because he could not find work in the East. She decided Waco must have some reason for bringing the young man here. Of course, this might be one of his friends wearing dude clothes.
‘All right, I reckon we could take you on, Chicago. I’m Mary Anne Catlan the boss of the S.S.C.’ She heard Molly getting up and coming towards the door. ‘This is my friend and neighbour, Molly Wilmont.’
‘I believe we’ve met.’ Keith managed to retain control of his senses as he found himself facing his ex-fiancée. ‘I think she dropped this the last time we met.’
Molly looked down at the engagement ring he held out and snorted angrily. ‘What’re you doing here?’
‘Going west,’ Keith replied.
Mary Anne smiled. She did not know if Waco guessed who the young man was. There was nothing to be gained in standing here talking. ‘Come in, both of you.’
Keith entered the room, followed by Waco. Molly made no attempt to take the ring. Her eyes flickered at Keith’s face and she asked, ‘Just what’s the game?’
‘No game. I’m coming west to find work. Miss Catlan just hired me to work on her ranch.’
‘She did, did she?’ Molly growled. ‘Well you’re not working for any fat mantrap.’
‘Fat is it, you scraggy hen!’ Mary Anne yelled. ‘Why for two cents I’d—’
‘You’d what?’ Molly was so mixed up emotionally that she did not know what to do or say.
‘Come on, Chicago,’ Waco said, grinning at the girls who were glaring at each other. ‘This ain’t going to be no safe place for a couple of innocent boys like us.’
Keith followed Waco from the room, was pulled rather, for he wanted to stop and talk with Molly. He did not realise until he was standing in front of the sleeper compartment Waco had reserved that he’d left the ring on Molly’s bunk.
The two girls were now examining it and Molly smiled, her face showing her delight. ‘He’s coming with me, Rusty, he’s coming with me.’
For all of that Molly was cool towards Keith the next morning and remained so until they reached the railhead in Texas. In the thriving, booming trailend town Molly decided that Keith must look like a cowhand, even if he would never make one. So Keith and Waco went along to a general store.
‘You want a Stetson for a start, Chicago,’ Waco stated and they made their way to the counter where such were on display. ‘Buy the best you can afford, you’ll never regret it.’
Keith bought the expensive and genuine Stetson Waco chose for him and allowed the young Texan to shape it for him. He put it on and tried to get it at the right jack-deuce angle over his eye. Then he chose a tartan shirt, Levis trousers and high-heeled boots. Waco was adamant on one point, the boots must be replaced by made-to-measures as soon as they got settled in Whittle. No cowhand worth his salt would wear ready-made boots. Spurs, the real, genuine Kelly spurs of Texas came next, bought from the store
which could sell a man all he would need in clothing and gear. A saddle, bridle, reins, horse-blanket, tarp and warbag came next but one purchase Keith wished to make did not come off. Waco watched him buy a brand new, ivory-handled Colt Cavalry Peacemaker but drew the line at a ready-to-wear gunbelt.
‘I’d like a gunbelt,’ Keith remarked as they sat at the campfire on the first night of their trip to Whittle, after leaving the railroad and travelling with the girls in the rig they hired and the two men riding the horses which brought Waco and Mary Anne to the railbead. ‘One like yours.’
Mary Anne laughed. ‘That’s a Gayline belt, Chicago.’
‘Couldn’t I buy one?’
‘Not from Joe Gayline. He’ll sell you a saddle, or a pair of his boots, if you’d got enough money to buy them. But he won’t sell his gunbelts to anyone. He chooses the men whom he makes them for. I bet there aren’t more than thirty of them in the West.’
Keith could read the pride in Mary Anne’s voice as she told of the gunbelt her little brother wore. She was proud that he owned, wore and was a member of that elite group who carried the Gayline gunbelts. ‘I could buy another,’ he finally said.
‘Sure, but get one made in Whittle. You might go all your life and never need a gun.’ Waco told him. ‘But if you need one, lord, you need it fast. A ready-made’s the best way I know of getting you killed. Can you use a Colt?’
Keith rose, smiling. He was the best shot in the Streeterville Sporting Club and held the club record for pistol shooting. True, he’d been using a target-sighted Smith & Wesson .32 revolver then but he did not expect any trouble in shooting the .45 Colt. He asked for Waco to suggest a target.
‘How about that tree?’ Waco inquired, grinning, a grin which was mirrored by the two girls.
Keith looked at the tree and smiled, Waco was picking a big enough target. It was probably the best he could do at a range of about twenty feet. Keith opened the loading gate and slid six fat cartridges into the chambers. Then he stood with his left hand on his hip, sideways to the target, feet placed correctly, right pointing to the target, left at right angles. He started to lift his right hand.
