Ralph Compton Straight to the Noose

by Marcus Galloway

  “You’re not gonna try and swim for it, are you?”

  Mason recognized the voice right away. Even if he hadn’t, he would have bet everything that he wasn’t being allowed to make this walk alone. Of course, as of a minute or two ago, that didn’t amount to much of a bet.

  “Nah,” Mason said. “I wouldn’t get very far anyway.”

  Greeley stepped up beside him and leaned against the rail as if he were simply taking in the predawn stillness. “Wise choice. You’d be surprised how many men in your position have tried hopping over that railing and testing their luck with the river.”

  “No. I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”

  “I suppose not.” Pushing away from the railing, Greeley said, “Let’s take a walk. We have some things to discuss.”

  The heavy hand that dropped onto Mason’s shoulder was most definitely not Greeley’s. When he looked at who was pushing him along, Mason found the overman who’d been the one to greet him at the card table and carry the notes back and forth to Tilly later on. He seemed even more imposing now, even though he still stood more or less the same height as Mason.

  “Howdy,” Mason said.

  The overman nodded and gave him a nudge to keep him moving. Since he didn’t have any say in the matter, Mason decided to at least put an end to the shoving by falling into step alongside Greeley.

  “You prefer to be called Mason, right?” Greeley asked.

  “Generally, yes.”

  “I could tell you didn’t like it when you were called Abner. Nothing to be ashamed of, though. It’s a fine name. I had a cousin named Abner.”

  “I’m not ashamed of my name,” Mason said. “I just . . .”

  “Don’t like the familiarity?”

  “Yeah,” Mason replied while nodding to the man beside him. “That’s it.”

  As he walked beside Mason, Greeley seemed very calm and even friendly. That might not have been an act, but it also wasn’t any sort of friendliness in the usual sense of the word. It was the demeanor of a man who had not only the winning hand, but the only hand. “I understand fully,” Greeley said. “There’s a certain lack of respect that comes about when a man gets too familiar with someone.”

  Mason thought back to when he’d purposely addressed Greeley by his first name. He’d known what he was doing, but hadn’t realized just how badly it could come back to haunt him.

  They were walking along the deck, past several doors that led into the main card room as well as a few smaller ones. On the other side of those doors, people were enjoying themselves, enjoying one another, drinking, laughing. To Mason, they might as well have been on another continent.

  “I’ve got one question for you.” Greeley quickly shook his head and added, “Rather, I have one question that I need to ask you before the others.”

  “What the hell was I thinking?”

  Greeley laughed once. “That’s it. What the hell were you thinking?”

  Having reached a set of stairs near the aft end of the boat, they stopped before beginning to climb to the next deck. Mason put his hand on the banister, looked up, and said, “I thought I could win. Simple as that.”

  “I was also going to ask if you thought I was a fool or possibly just a bad cardplayer,” Greeley admitted. “But that would’ve just been to bark at you. I could always tell you had a good head on your shoulders and knew what you were doing. That’s why I invited you to my private game. I like to play with the best.” Clapping a hand on Mason’s back, Greeley got them both moving up the stairs. “That being said, of course, there’s still another matter that needs to be addressed.”

  “I can get your money,” Mason said.

  “We’ve had a pretty good conversation until now. Don’t ruin it with lies or double talk.”

  “I honor my debts, Mr. Greeley. Ask anyone.”

  “I’ve already asked some folks about you. Back when you came onto my boat the first time and sent poor George Rey packing with nothing but dust in his pockets. You remember that?”

  “I do,” Mason said with a fond smile. George Rey had been a loud, overbearing blowhard. It had been nothing short of divine to wring him dry and crush his spirit just to watch him skulk away like a whipped dog.

  “You’ve played many a game on the Delta Jack,” Greeley continued as they stepped onto the second deck and rounded a corner to head straight to the next set of stairs. “You’ve never caused any trouble and you’ve kept your cheating down to an acceptable amount.” Before Mason could jump to his own defense, Greeley held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry. Every gambler cheats now and then. It’s part of the game. As far as a fair competition goes, just having men like us play with most cowboys you’ll find in a saloon is mighty close to cheating.”

  Mason chuckled as a courtesy.

  “I like to bring on players who think they know what they’re doing,” Greeley continued, “but mostly as a way to feed the real professionals. Every now and then, the chum gets lucky. The reason I bring all this up is for you to know that I do not consider you to be chum that is fed to the barracudas.”

  “Thanks . . . I guess.”

  They made their way up the second set of stairs much quicker than the first. Once they were at the top, they stood at the pinnacle of the Delta Jack herself. Dawn was definitely approaching. Soon the sky would start to lighten. Mason just hoped he’d be allowed to see it.

  “You’re funny,” Greeley said. “Very amusing. Did you know some gamblers come to the Jack just to play you in a game?”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s true!”

  In an odd sort of way, despite it being the worst time to think such a thing, Mason was flattered. When he started to turn to walk toward the bow, Mason was steered aft by the rough hand of the enforcer who’d been following them the whole time. Mason took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw there were now three overmen trailing behind them. It was no wonder the few other passengers they’d seen while on their walk had quickly turned and headed in another direction.

  “This is all well and good,” Mason said. “I appreciate the kind words and all, but it’s really unnecessary. I said I’ll get your money and I have every intention of doing so.”

  “I’m sure you do. The problem is that intentions don’t fill a man’s pockets any more than the dust you left to that asshole George Rey. I need cash and I’d like it right away.”

  “I can get it.”

  “All of it?”

  Mason winced. He knew only too well that he didn’t have that kind of money lying around. Greeley knew it too. Since saying so out loud wouldn’t do either of them any good, Mason replied, “I’ve built up some credit with you throughout my visits.”

  “That’s gone,” Greeley said with a motion that made it look as if he were wiping an unseen chalkboard clean.

  “Plus, there’s what I had at the table.”

  “Which has already been taken and counted up. At least that is something you won’t have to pay back. Keep in mind, whatever Tilly has in her books for you will be applied to this here, but you’ll have to pay that back eventually. That’s the devil of credit, as you know.”

  Trying not to get flustered, Mason snapped, “Yeah. I know about credit. I’ve got more cash in my cabin.”

  “Enough to cover your loss tonight?”

  As Mason struggled to think of a diplomatic way to answer that question without getting himself shot, three overmen fanned out behind Greeley like a firing squad. They didn’t have guns in their hands, but one had a rope. Somehow Mason would have preferred to see a gun.

  “Truth be told . . . ,” Mason said.

  “Don’t waste my time by saying something like that,” Greeley said in a voice that was bereft of the friendliness he’d shown only moments ago. “Just tell me the truth. When you lie, I’ll know well enough and one of the
se men behind me will knock some of your teeth down your throat.”

  “All right. What I was going to say was that I don’t rightly know how much cash is in my cabin.”

  “That’s a lie.” Without another word, Greeley motioned toward the men behind him. One of them stepped forward and punched Mason in the mouth so quickly that it would have been impossible to do a thing about it.

  “Every gambler knows exactly how much he has at any given time,” Greeley said. “Otherwise he’s not much of a professional, and as I already told you, I’m well aware of how professional you are.”

  Mason rubbed his jaw. No teeth had been knocked loose, but a few felt dangerously close. “I’m not lying,” he said. “I’ve been playing a lot, drinking a lot. . . .”

  Greeley scowled and nodded to the man who’d just punched Mason.

  Before that beefy fist could thump him again, Mason hastily added, “I wasn’t blind drunk and I know all gamblers drink plenty of liquor. All I meant was that I’ve only been using my cabin to take the occasional nap and sock away some of my profits. Generally I’ve been doing pretty well, so I haven’t needed to dip into those profits, which means I don’t have an exact count.”

  The overman standing with his fist cocked back looked to Greeley and waited.

  After thinking for a second, Greeley nodded once.

  The overman lowered his fist.

  “Let me ask you this,” Greeley said. “Do you think there’s any way you have enough to cover the remainder of your debt?”

  Mason’s mind was swimming with so many frantic thoughts that he couldn’t get a good feel for how much of the debt remained. Rather than risk another punch in the face by asking for a count, he admitted, “No.”

  “The truth. Good to hear.” Greeley then stepped back and jabbed a finger at Mason.

  The overman who’d punched Mason before did so a second time. His fist moved as if it were attached to a piston and snapped Mason’s head back so hard that he was dizzy when he brought it up again.

  Keeping far enough back for all three overmen to surround Mason, Greeley said, “That was for getting in over your head. You should’ve known better than to bet more than you could pay. It was a stupid mistake and you’re better than that.”

  Mason agreed with those words so wholeheartedly that he didn’t mind taking a punch to the face to drive them home.

  “There’s no need for this,” Mason said as the overmen swarmed him. Two of them held his arms in an iron grip while another softened Mason up with a couple of chopping blows to his stomach.

  “I’m not a man to be cheated,” Greeley said.

  “I . . . know that!” Mason replied as he was hit once more in the gut.

  “I’m also not a man to be taken lightly where debts are concerned.”

  “Believe me . . . I know that too.”

  “I don’t think you do, Mr. Mason. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made a bet you couldn’t possibly honor.”

  Now that he’d softened Mason up, the overman stopped punching him. The two hanging on to Mason’s arms slammed him against the railing, facing straight back to the boat’s churning wake. The third flexed the hand he’d pounded against Mason’s face and torso before reaching for the coiled rope that had been set on the deck near his feet.

  “I can honor my debt,” Mason said. “Just not all at once. All I’m asking for is a few days to . . . What is he doing?”

  The third overman had a bald head and thick black eyebrows. Until now, Mason had been too distracted to get much of a look at him. Now that the overman was looping one end of the rope around his ankles, Mason couldn’t focus on anything else.

  Greeley held up a hand, which stopped the overman in his tracks. The other two tightened their grips on Mason’s arms and moved him back just enough to give him a taste of what it might feel like to topple backward into the water.

  “Do you know how these men earned their names?” Greeley asked.

  Mason’s eyes darted back and forth in their sockets to get a look at the men who had ahold of him. “You mean . . . overmen?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve heard a few things, but I don’t know for certain which are true.” Mason had heard more than a few things, but he didn’t want to discuss them at that particular moment.

  “Part of their duties involves ridding my boat of troublemakers,” Greeley explained. “To do that, they pitch undesirables over the rail and into the water.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Cheaters are tied to the side of the boat, way down low, and dragged for a few miles over rocks, through mud, and across a couple sandbars until their bones are turned to powder.”

  “I didn’t cheat!”

  “I know,” Greeley said. “Men who can’t pay their debts aren’t dragged, but they are also tossed over. Only difference is that they’re tossed into the paddlewheel.”

  Chapter 11

  The rope was wrapped around both of Mason’s ankles and cinched tight. His boots clamped together and the two men gripping his arms hoisted him a few inches off the deck.

  “I’ll get the money!” Mason said. “There are people who owe me. I can collect on some debts of my own!”

  “Where are these people?” Greeley asked. “Here on the Jack?”

  “Some of them.”

  Greeley wasn’t pleased to hear that and he motioned to his men. Mason was picked up like a scarecrow and hung over the railing. The only thing keeping him from falling was the solid grip those two enforcers still had on his arms.

  “Not good enough,” Greeley said.

  “I’ve got money stashed. Not here, but I can get to it in a few days. Just give me enough time to get to it.”

  “Tossing a man into the paddlewheel ain’t an easy thing,” Greeley said. “The first one who went over this railing missed it completely. The second just bounced off and splashed into the water not too much worse off than if he’d been tossed over from any other side of the boat.”

  Mason’s legs flailed but were being held by the rope tied to his ankles so he could only thrash like a fish. He bucked and twisted his body, knocking uselessly against the railing.

  “In order to make the point I wanted to make,” Greeley went on to say, “there had to be more of an impact . . . so to speak. That’s when one of my boys here came up with the notion of tying a man by the legs good and tight.” Greeley appeared in the corner of Mason’s eye and gazed out at the huge, churning wheel behind them. “That way, he could be thrown out a ways to knock against the wheel for a bit. Of course, there was always the chance that he might just fall through and drop straight into the water without a scratch. Would you believe one lucky bastard got away from me by doing that very thing? Seems impossible, but it happened.”

  “I’ve got a watch,” Mason sputtered. “Some cufflinks. A few tie tacks. They’re worth something. That’s what I meant when I said I needed to go and see what I had in my cabin.”

  “With the legs tied,” Greeley said as if there had been no interruption whatsoever, “there’s no getting away. Granted, it’s a little barbaric. Maybe even more than a little. Still, it gets the job done. And if you think it hurts getting knocked around once or twice, that ain’t nothing compared to getting knocked around after your legs or back have already been broke.”

  “I said I’ll pay and I meant it. I can’t pay anything if I’m dead!”

  “You won’t be dead, Mr. Mason. At least, not right away.”

  Mason had yet to go over the side, but he was being slowly moved into position. From where he was, he could already tell the overmen had more than enough combined strength to toss him past the paddlewheel if they’d wanted to.

  “You know something? I gotta hand it to you,” Greeley mused. “Going as far as you did for a low straight . . . it takes real sand.” He turned to one of
the men holding Mason’s arm. “You should’ve seen him. ‘Straight to the eight,’ he said. Like there wasn’t a chance in hell for him to lose.”

  Mason was through begging. The only tool at his disposal was his voice, and that obviously wasn’t going to do him any good. If Greeley meant to kill him, he’d just have to get on with it.

  “Plenty of others have found themselves in this same spot,” Greeley said. “And they wound up here after losing with far better hands than your straight. I’m not sure whether that makes you look stupid or brave. Maybe you’re just confident. Which is it, Mr. Mason? Stupid, brave, or confident?”

  If Mason didn’t intend to beg, he’d be damned if he would play along by answering a question like that. Instead he let out a hard breath and closed his eyes.

  The man gripping his right arm gave Mason a shake. “You were asked a question,” he snarled.

  Still, Mason kept quiet.

  “Maybe proud is another possibility,” Greeley said. “I’ve got to say, none of these qualities put you in a very favorable light.”

  “If you won’t listen to reason,” Mason said, “then I don’t know what else you want from me.”

  “Reason?” Greeley scoffed. “You make a bet that’s worth more than you are ten times over and now you want to talk to me about reason?”

  “I made a mistake. I’ll admit that much. I already offered to set it right and you don’t seem interested. You’ve got the men. You’ve got the guns. They’re holding the rope. If you just want to watch me twist and then drop me into the river, then I’m not in much of a position to stop you.”

  “What are my alternatives, Mr. Mason?”

  “You can let me try to make good on my bet.”

  “And what if you can’t?”

  “If I couldn’t, there’s no way I would have made that bet,” Mason explained.

  Greeley considered that for all of two seconds before he started to laugh. “That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”