4 Lives
Page 9
“I don’t know how you did that, but you cheated.”
“Sir! I did not.”
“You’re not taking the deed to my ranch!”
Lucas saw how the circle of customers around him widened. They were torn between getting close enough to see a gambler take a bullet in the gut and being in the line of fire themselves. Self-preservation won out for most of the crowd.
“My reputation, sir,” Lucas said, steering the rancher away from anyone who might overhear. The man pulled away so he could keep his six-shooter leveled at Lucas’s gut. “Please. Listen to me. Let’s talk this over.”
“There’s nothing to talk over.”
“I can’t just give you back the deed, not when everyone thinks I have won it fair and square. My reputation, my honor! Besmirched! Everyone would think they can lose to me and do nothing but ask for their lost wager to be returned. I cannot make a living that way. But I have no real interest in your ranch.”
“Then I’ll keep it and—”
“Please, understand, sir. I can’t give it to you. My reputation as a gambler would suffer.” Lucas moved around the table but didn’t get too close. The way the rancher’s finger whitened with tension on the trigger showed how close he was to dying. “You value your ranch, I value my reputation as much. However, I have a solution so we both come out winners. I have no desire to own a ranch. Why, I am unsure which end of a cow the grass goes in, though I do think I can find where the digested product comes out. Such a business has no appeal for me since I spend my nights swilling bad liquor and fending off soiled doves as I deal faro or indulge in a game of five-card draw.”
“I can keep my ranch?”
“And I will emerge with my reputation intact as a high-stakes gambler. I propose a single draw, high card wins. I will put the deed I have just won against your stake. You do have something more to bet?”
“No, it’s all there.” The rancher motioned with the pistol but his aim returned to dead center on Lucas’s chest. “I don’t have anything to put up.”
“Well,” Lucas said, pursing his lips and looking intent in thought. “That’s not really true. You have that fine six-gun. A brand spanking new Colt Peacemaker, isn’t it? You put it up against the deed, we draw, and high card wins.”
Lucas watched as the proposal rattled around behind the man’s bloodshot eyes.
“I’ll win? You can make sure of that?”
“I am a professional gambler. Knowing the odds is how I make a living.”
“All right,” the rancher said. “Let’s do it so I can get the hell out of this gin mill.” He spat toward a brass spittoon and missed. Only the cowboys getting chaw on their boots moved. More than one surged forward to get retribution, but the promise of a second act in the card game caused their partners to hold them back.
Lucas edged back around the table and then announced the wager loudly enough to draw back the crowd. He wasn’t surprised to see Claudette return. If she would stand behind him, her ample fleshy Front Range pressing outward might distract the rancher, but Lucas hardly needed that.
“The turn of the card will decide who wins the Rolling J Ranch. The deed is bet against about the finest six-gun I have ever seen.” Lucas motioned for the rancher to put the six-shooter on the table next to the deed.
He shuffled, pushed the deck across for the rancher to cut. The man made a big show of doing so, then pushed the deck across the table using a shaking finger. Claudette had placed a fresh shot of whiskey at his elbow. The rancher knocked the liquid popskull back. He tried to put the glass back on the table and missed. It hit the floor with a loud ringing sound and rolled away.
Other than the piano player continuing his assault on anything he played, there wasn’t a sound in the room. All attention focused on a single table. Lucas was aware of how the crowd sucked in a collective breath and held it.
He kept his eyes on the rancher. The man wobbled a bit and almost followed his shot glass to the floor, then caught himself on the table edge and pulled it closer. Lucas scooted his chair after the table. The nickel-plated Colt gleamed on the table next to the sweat-stained deed. The pile of chips and greenbacks had been shoved aside, as if mere money no longer mattered.
For Lucas Stanton it didn’t.
“Draw,” he said.
The rancher cut the deck and peeled off the top card. He flipped it over. A gasp went up. Jack of clubs. The rancher grinned ear to ear, and the crowd’s pent-up breath released in a huge gust like a chinook gusting off the Montana Crazies.
“Smoked you good.”
“My turn.” Lucas moved fast, cutting the deck and slipping a card to lay facedown. He slid a fingernail under the edge, then flicked his finger. The card stood on edge for a moment, then dropped.
The rancher gaped. Lucas moved like a striking snake, shoving the deed onto the pile of money and chips—and grabbing the Colt.
“I couldn’t lose! You said—”
“The queen of diamonds will beat you every time.” Lucas slipped his finger around the trigger as he hefted the gun. “Why don’t you leave now that you’ve lost?”
“You can’t take my ranch!” The rancher surged to his feet and leaned forward. He looked down as Lucas lifted the cocked six-shooter and aimed it at the man’s exposed chest.
“I’d offer you a drink as consolation, but you have had too many already. Good evening.”
“You haven’t heard the last of this!”
The rancher forced himself back and staggered away, shoving customers out of his way as he exited the saloon. Lucas waited until he had vanished before gingerly lowering the hammer and placing the six-gun on the table. The piano was still the only sound to be heard. Lucas knew what had to be done.
“Drinks for everyone. On me!”
Lefty had already begun pulling bottles of whiskey from a case under the bar. He knew as well as Lucas what had to be done to keep the peace in the Emerald City.
The gambler found himself pummeled as everyone wanted to slap him on the back, but this died down fast when Lefty began pouring at the bar. The only one remaining was Claudette. Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered all that she would do for him. Later. After they left the saloon and were alone.
Lucas had to laugh. What she had to offer was fine and he had wondered what it would take for him to find out, but the night was young, he had a pile of money and the deed to a big ranch, and there were so many in the saloon wanting to gamble. Lucas laughed heartily. Lady Luck was his whore tonight. Others would gamble with him—and he would win!
If you enjoyed this glimpse into the world of Lucas Stanton, watch for the novel
The Great West Detective Agency
About the author
JACKSON LOWRY is the pen name of a prolific western author, whose novel Sonora Noose was nominated for an Arizona-New Mexico Book Award. His short story, "Silver Noose," gained a nomination for the Peacemaker Award from the Western Fictioneers.
He is a longtime resident of the Southwest, born in the middle of Possum Kingdom in Texas, just down the road from the Crazy Water Hotel. After half a decade in El Paso, he moved on to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he currently hangs his hat.
For more information about the author and his work, see his Web site Jackson Lowry Westerns
Other westerns by
Jackson Lowry
novels
The Great West Detective Agency
The Sonora Noose
The Artist
short stories
Fifteen Dollars
The Silver Noose
writing as "Ford Fargo"
Wolf Creek: Kiowa Vengeance
Wolf Creek: The Quick and the Dying
Wolf Creek: Massacre!
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