Ralph Compton Straight to the Noose

by Marcus Galloway

  Clint pulled out the chair that Mason hadn’t noticed before and even went through the motions of dusting it off. “Have a seat,” he said. “We just started a hand, but you’re more than welcome to join us on the next one.”

  “Obliged,” the new player said in a mildly grating voice.

  Introductions were made all around and when it was his turn, the man in the modest suit said, “I’m Jervis Crane. Pleased to meet all of you.”

  “Likewise,” Dan replied.

  The first round of betting commenced with a paltry wager made by Maggie and everyone else tossing in enough to call.

  “How do you know Mr. Greeley?” Mason asked.

  “I’ve been making the rounds for half a dozen years now,” Jervis said. “Mr. Greeley played in a tournament in New Orleans. A tournament I won. He invited me to come aboard the Delta Jack sometime, and when I got here, I was to look him up. I did and wound up getting invited to this game. Not a very exciting story.”

  “You can always embellish,” Mason said. “We sit at tables like these for quite a long time. Embellished stories are always appreciated.”

  Jervis nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

  Judging by Jervis’s ramrod-straight posture and tightly wound features, Mason had no doubt the conversation would indeed be remembered word for word. In the meantime, he placed his chips in separate piles and went through great lengths to make certain they were all of equal height and distance from one another.

  If Jervis embellished any other stories while they played through the next few hands, he did a miserable job at it, because they were only slightly better than his account of meeting Greeley. Mason and Clint picked up the slack by spinning some yarns of their own. After two hours had passed, even Maggie was laughing along with the rest of them. At least, Mason guessed the noises Jervis made were laughter. It was either that or he’d gotten something lodged in his throat and was trying to shake it loose.

  Mason was just about to ask if anyone thought Greeley was coming back to the table when he got his answer. The boat’s slender owner walked to his row of overmen with each arm draped around a different girl, wearing a smile that was bright enough to light up the room with enough left over to reflect off the water outside.

  “Here comes our host,” Mason said. “Looks like he took a bit of time for himself.”

  Looking over to Maggie, Clint asked, “What about you, darlin’? Want to take some time for ourselves?”

  “Sure,” she replied. “I can get away from you for a while and then meet back here to win some more of your money.”

  “Very funny.”

  Greeley said his farewells to the women accompanying him by kissing one on the ear and swatting the other on her backside. Both of his companions giggled, waved, and went in separate directions to find their next customers.

  “It looks like you all have kept busy,” Greeley said as he sat down. “And I see you’ve met Mr. Crane. Hopefully you’re all getting along.”

  “Famously,” Mason said. “We were just about to deal the next hand. The game’s changed to five-card draw.”

  “But I am more than willing to play another,” Jervis said.

  Greeley waved that off. “Nonsense. Variety is the spice of life.”

  A comment regarding Greeley’s variety in feminine companions sprang to Mason’s mind, but he decided not to let it fly. There was no reason to rock the boat, especially with the man who owned the boat.

  They dealt the cards and Greeley was in high spirits for several hands. Although the rest of the table quieted down considerably, it wasn’t out of deference to the rich man’s arrival. Having another player, especially one of Greeley’s caliber, changed the whole complexion of a game, and everyone needed a short while to adjust.

  Mason generally considered draw to be a game better suited for timid players. Not having any cards showing left a lot to the imagination. It was, however, an excellent forum in which to bluff. Because of that, he’d managed to pull in enough pots to put himself more than a little bit ahead for the night. He wasn’t certain what time it was and didn’t bother to check. When a game started to flow, time didn’t matter very much and Mason liked it that way. He would keep going for as long as it took. Let the rest of the world do whatever it pleased.

  “I raise,” Greeley announced. One of the girls he’d been with during his absence was a short brunette with curves that could stop a stampede in its tracks. The upper portion of her dress was so loosely constructed that she only seemed to be covered by strings of wispy shadow. She was walking in a section of the room where she could be seen from Greeley’s seat and he waved to her before moving his chips into the pot. Since he didn’t announce how much he was raising and didn’t cut off his chips as he usually did, Mason was certain Greeley was sifting through some more pleasant memories instead of focusing every bit of attention on the game.

  It was the first round of betting for that hand, and Greeley was third to act. So far, his was the first bet made and he was too busy watching that brunette blow him a kiss from the other side of the room to notice Dan calling the raise. Mason wasn’t holding much of anything, but there was a chance he could make either a flush or a medium straight. The raise was small enough for him to call it and hope for the best.

  Clint bumped it up a little bit more, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone who’d played with him for more than three hands in a row. Maggie made some sly comment and called.

  The shapely brunette was speaking to a man at another table, but she’d positioned herself in a way that she could give Greeley an awfully good show as she leaned over to address the man in front of her. Mason took a quick look over there and was immediately glad he did. From where he was sitting, thanks to the brunette’s low-cut dress and ample bosom, she might as well have been naked from the waist up.

  “Oh,” Greeley said absently. “Is it to me? I’ll call.”

  Mason was fairly surprised that Greeley counted out the correct amount of chips. Then again, he was the man who not only employed that brunette but had also seen a whole lot more of her not too long ago.

  Since everyone was in, they made their discards and waited for the replacements to be dealt. Maggie was the one doing the honors this time around and she’d proven sometime ago to be adept at flipping cards to the exact spot where they needed to be. Also, the snapping motion of her wrist caused the rest of her to shake in a way that Mason couldn’t help noticing.

  “Stop it,” she growled.

  “Stop what?” Clint asked.

  “You’re staring at me,” Maggie said as she glared over at him. “Stop it. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Apparently Mason wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Maggie’s enticing little movement. He rubbed his eyes and vowed to himself not to have another drink for a while. Mason wasn’t exactly drunk, but he’d had enough whiskey for some of his baser instincts to rise to the surface. He’d order cold water next time the glasses were refilled. If that didn’t get his head back in the game, he would step outside and dunk it into some river water.

  From what he could tell, nobody was overly excited about their hand. Then again, Mason wouldn’t expect to see much reaction from players sitting at a table like this one. He looked for some of the signs he’d already picked up on from the folks around him, and since no cards were showing, all he could see was a silent war brewing between Maggie and Clint. Yet another reason why Mason didn’t much care for five-card draw.

  “Twenty,” Greeley said while tossing in a chip.

  Dan looked at his cards and thought it over for a moment before calling. His luck had run pretty dry ever since his big haul. Even though he was a long ways from broke, he wasn’t stupid enough to try to stoke a fire under his game by tossing more cash onto the flames. Unless Mason was very wrong, he guessed Dan would be chased away by an above-average raise.


  He had every intention of doing just that, if only to take a stab at a modest pot, when Mason finally looked at the two cards he’d been given to replace the ones that had been thrown away. He’d decided to hope for the straight, thinking he had a better chance of getting a pair or two instead. What he got was exactly what he’d been hoping for, and it was an exercise in restraint to keep from letting everyone know about it.

  “Make it fifty,” Mason said, praying to the Lord above that someone would try to make a move of their own.

  Clint couldn’t drop out fast enough. As soon as his cards hit the table, he excused himself and walked straight over to one of the working girls who’d caught his eye. A blonde in a pink dress was all too happy to take his arm and laugh at whatever he said to her.

  Jervis called without any fanfare.

  Maggie took a moment to think before running one finger along the edge of a stack of chips. “Raise a hundred,” she said.

  “Make it three hundred,” Greeley countered.

  As Greeley put together enough chips to back his play, Mason took quick stock of his cards. Sure enough, his prayer had been answered. As long as he didn’t trip over himself to wring some more chips out of the players who remained, he should be in for a very interesting night.

  Chapter 9

  As far as Dan went, Mason had been completely right. After the raise that had been made, Dan folded up his tent and was out of the hand. Since Mason wasn’t absolutely certain that Jervis or Maggie would raise, it was up to him to do the honors. The only question was . . . how much?

  Now that the number of players still in the hand had been trimmed down a bit, Mason didn’t want to scare away any potential contributors to the pot he intended to win. Too big a raise could very well take a bite out of his own profit.

  Too small a raise would let the others off the hook. For a gambler, anything that took money from his pocket was intolerable.

  “Raise,” Mason said after one last moment to think it over. “Five hundred.”

  Jervis had clearly made some sort of hand, because he stared at his cards as if they were speaking to him. It was also possible that he was simply aching to play. After all, he hadn’t been in the game for as long as everyone else and was most likely just getting his feet wet. That was the time when any gambler wanted to keep rolling. If he didn’t have something worth playing, he would have been more than happy to dump his cards already. Eventually he shrugged and put the money in.

  Maggie, on the other hand, didn’t have such a dilemma. She’d reached a decision, but it had nothing to do with her cards. “I’m out. In fact,” she added while getting to her feet, “I’m going to get some fresh air.” She left the table, walked past the overmen, and made a straight line toward the closest door.

  “Five hundred, is it?” Greeley asked in a voice that wasn’t nearly as distracted as it had been the last time he’d used it. “What did you catch, Abner?”

  “One good way to find out,” Mason replied.

  “Eh, I’m not all that interested in seeing them cards.”

  Inside, Mason clenched. Even after his consideration, he still could have overplayed his hand.

  “I’ll just take it down right here,” Greeley continued. “That is, unless you care to pay three thousand to put me to the test?”

  Not only was Mason no longer clenching his guts into a twist, but he was back to trying not to look overjoyed when he reached for his money. He’d laid out the bear trap, and the biggest grizzly of them all had stumbled right in. It wasn’t smart to poke the grizzly with a stick, but there was no way in hell he was going to let it out of the trap.

  “Make it eight thousand,” Mason said in what would surely drive the other man to the hills.

  “Twenty.”

  “Twenty thousand?”

  Greeley nodded.

  Mason was back to clenching.

  His first instinct was that Greeley was posturing. He had to have still been stinging from taking the loss from Dan. Even though he’d played it off like the benevolent host and gone away to let off some steam with a few of his girls.

  All those hours, Mason had been studying Greeley, using every observational instinct he’d honed during his years of sitting at poker tables across the country. He’d picked up on more than a few signs that Greeley was trying to represent a hand instead of actually having one. Greeley had been distracted before and was too proud to admit as much now by laying down his cards.

  Instead of admitting he’d been outplayed again, Greeley meant to buy the pot. It was not only a common tactic used by rich men, but was also one that annoyed Mason the most. Rather than rely on skill or even dumb luck, a rich man could crawl into the bottom of his wallet and hide like a coward in the dark. Mason, along with any other gambler on the circuit, had lost hands to men like that simply because the player in front of him had a better family name or a bigger inheritance. They could afford to put a man’s livelihood at stake just to save face. And once again, rich men got what they wanted simply because they threw enough money in a certain direction.

  “I call,” Mason said through gritted teeth.

  Greeley leaned back in his chair, looking to Mason like just another rich man trying to play the part of emperor. “You sure you want to do that?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Do you have enough to cover a bet like that?”

  “No offense, but we’ve already gone through all this before,” Mason said. “Are you honestly going to bring the game to a stop every time someone makes a big bet?”

  “I’m just making sure you can back that mouth of yours,” Greeley said.

  “Don’t you worry about my mouth.”

  Leaning forward, Greeley placed one set of fingertips on the table as if he was making a spider with his hand. “If you can’t back up your bet,” he said in a low voice that sounded more like a rake being dragged across dry slate, “there’ll be consequences.”

  “You don’t have to teach me the rules of this game, Cam. You made a bet and I’m calling it. Right now you’re the one who needs to back yourself up.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Tell you what,” Mason said. “Let’s just play the game and take it from there. Isn’t that why we’re here, after all?”

  Greeley leaned back again. “You’re right. On all counts, you’re absolutely right. You called my bet, that’s part of the game, and the game is why we’re here. What have you got?”

  Strictly speaking, Greeley was the one who needed to show first. At that point, however, Mason was glad to put an end to the matter before he let his temper get the better of him by saying something he might regret. He turned over his cards, spread them for all to see, and said, “Straight to the eight.”

  Everything Mason had put together in his mind thus far told him he had Greeley beat.

  Everything Mason had observed told him that Greeley was in a prime position to be steered into a trap. All that was needed was a hand big enough to do the job, and a straight was pretty big.

  Everything Mason had put together and observed was proven wrong the instant Greeley showed his hand.

  “Flush,” Greeley said coolly. “King high.”

  The clench Mason felt at that moment was worse than all the previous ones combined.

  Much, much worse.

  Chapter 10

  “What’s the matter, Abner?” Greeley asked. “Need a drink?”

  Mason nodded.

  Raising his hand to summon one of the girls circling the vicinity of the table, Greeley said, “Get this man a drink.”

  Although Mason heard those voices, they and the rest of the sounds in that room became muddled as if his ears had filled with water. He maintained his composure, even when a cold sweat broke out beneath his starched shirt.

  When the drink was brought to him, Mason took a sip and let ou
t a breath.

  “Hurts, don’t it?” Greeley asked.

  “I’ve had worse,” Mason said, suddenly all too aware of how many eyes were on him just then. Maggie and Clint were still away from the table, but the remaining players all looked at him as if they were waiting to see if he would fall from his seat. It galled Mason to be seen as such a fragile amateur. “I’m fine,” he said in a much stronger voice. “Looks like I’m done for the night, though.”

  Mason stood up, started to collect his chips, and then left them where they were so he could pull on his coat. He said his farewells to the other players, or at least he thought he did. In actuality, he felt more like a puppet just going wherever he was pulled. He went through the motions of leaving a game as he’d done so many times in the past and walked away.

  For a second, he was sure he was going to be stopped by the wall of overmen guarding the game. Before he walked straight into them, however, they parted and allowed him to pass.

  From across the room, Clint spotted him and started to say something. Maggie was nearby as well, but they both quickly decided against approaching him.

  Mason didn’t know what was causing all the special treatment and he didn’t care. All he wanted was some crisp air on his face. He got it once he opened the door and headed for the closest railing he could find. His steps quickly degraded into a stagger, but he managed to halt himself by gripping the railing with both hands.

  It was late in the evening, possibly even drawing close to dawn. Mason could tell as much from the cool dampness in the air and the inky texture of the sky. The shore drifting past was quiet and sleepy, which went a long way to helping him gather his thoughts.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a loss. It wasn’t even the first time he’d been completely cleaned out in one hand. It was, however, the first time he’d had such an easy time getting away from the table afterward. Of course, it wasn’t as if he had many places to go.