Dead Man's Poker

by Giles Tippette

  It was over a good deal quicker than I’d expected. It was barely one o’clock when Chulo came into my room wiping his knife on a piece of the bed sheet. He said, “Chit. He ees eezy. Some beeg tough pachucho. I theenk he want to talk to you now.”

  I went into Chulo’s room. Hull was white-faced and shaking. Sweat was running off his face. His eyes had a kind of wild, crazy look in them. I looked at his feet. Hell, Chulo had only skinned the ball of one foot and not even all of that. Little strips of skin were still hanging down where Chulo had worked his way toward the heel.

  I stood over Hull. I said, “You ready to talk now?”

  He nodded his head, up and down, rapidly. He was making little sounds against the gag in his mouth.

  I said, “You all done seeing how close you can spit at my face without hitting me?”

  He nodded again, the same way.

  I said, “I want to make one thing clear. If you don’t answer every question I ask you, if you don’t tell me everything you know, then we’ll start over again. Only this time Chulo won’t stop. You understand?”

  More of the same nodding.

  I motioned to Chulo. I said, “Take the gag out of his mouth. But put your knife against his throat. First thing that comes out of him that sounds like a yell, why just cut his throat.”

  Chulo knelt and cut the bandages that were wound around his head to hold the gag in place. Then he plucked the wad of cloth out of Hull’s mouth. The man, for a moment, just lay there panting and gasping for air. “I—” he said. “I—” He gasped some more. “I can’t, can’t—My God! Are you crazy!”

  I said, “I don’t like that kind of talk. You want me to leave you alone with Chulo some more?”

  Fright jumped straight up in his eyes. He said, “My God, man, no! Ain’t you civilized? The bastard is skinnin’ me! Is he a goddam Injun?”

  All of a sudden Chulo stuck the point of his knife up Hull’s nose. He said, “I cut hees pinche nose off.”

  I said, “Hold on, Chulo.” Then to Hull I said, “I’d watch that line of talk if I was you. He will cut your nose off. And certain other parts as well.”

  Hull said, “For God’s sake, give me a drink! I’m dyin’. I’m hurtin’ like hell!”

  I got Chulo’s bottle of rum off the table and knelt down and held it to Hull’s mouth. A good part of it ran down his face, but he did manage to suck down about a half a glassful. I took it away. A little of the color was starting to come back into his face, but he was breathing hard. Pain will do that to you, just flat wear a body out. While I was waiting for him to get his breath, I took a look at Hull. He was a little younger than I’d thought, at least ten years. I put his age at somewhere around thirty-five. He was dressed pretty much like the men I’d seen in the Main Brace, but his clothes were of a better quality and he seemed better spoke. He didn’t seem to have much of an accent, so I couldn’t tell if he was a Texan or a Southerner or from the North. I reckoned he’d knocked about in so many parts of the country, sailing around as he did, that whatever pattern of lingo he’d started out with had got all jumbled up with the rest. And I figured that all the weathering he’d taken from all them seas he’d been on was what made him look older. But whatever his age was, he was old enough to know he’d better answer my questions and damn quick. I was near out of patience.

  I said, “Are you the pusher or the ramrod or the head honcho or whatever you want to call it of these here vigilantes along the waterfront?”

  He shifted his eyes ever so slightly. He said, “Naw. That’s Sharp.”

  I said, “You know what I mean. You in charge of the arm breaking and the shooting and the stabbing department?”

  He said, “I’m a sailor, dammit! I’ve got my first mate’s papers.”

  I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t give a damn. I said, “You want some more rum?”

  He looked eager. “Yessir, I do.”

  I handed the bottle to Chulo. I said, “Put some of that on the bottom of his foot where it will do the most good.” Then I clamped my hand over his mouth because I knew he was going to scream. Chulo gave him a little dose and then held his legs down while he writhed around. After I saw a little of the pain beginning to leave him, I took my hand off his mouth. He gasped, “Oh, gawd! Oh, my gawd!” His face was just all clenched up.

  I said, “Now then, you want to try that question again?”

  He was still panting, but he managed to gasp out, “Who are you? You the law?”

  “Who am I? That ain’t the question. Question is, are you the one been seeing that Sharp and Bennet’s errands get carried out? You want to answer or you want some more rum?”

  He turned his face away. He said, grudgingly, “All right, all right. So what? Sharp said it was legal. Said it was a good thing. Said it kept order.”

  I said, “You remember about six days ago, maybe a week, when Sharp told you to have three men in his office? Told you he had somebody he wanted taken care of? Only them three got taken care of. It was right before Sharp cut and run. You remember that?”

  He blinked. His eyes got a little bigger. He said, “Was that you?”

  “That was me,” I said. “And Mr. Sharp not only robbed me of money he owed me, he shot me. I don’t generally take getting shot too lightly.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he said. “Sharp told me was a man coming to collect some money from him he didn’t have to spare. Said it would interfere with our plans if he paid the man the money. Said the man was dangerous and I’d better get three good men for the job.”

  “Doesn’t look like you did,” I said.

  He licked his lips. He said, “I told him sailors and dockhands wadn’t no good with guns. Told him knives or clubs was the thing. He said the man was too fast, that he’d kill them before they could get close enough. Can I have another drink? Hard to talk way I’m hurting.”

  I took the bottle from Chulo and let some more gurgle down his throat. He drank until he started coughing. When the fit passed, he said, “Can’t I sit up? Fer gawd’s sake, I’ll tell you anythin’ you want to know if you’ll sit me up and untie my hands. I cain’t take much more of this.”

  Chulo got one shoulder and I got the other, and we pulled Hull across the floor and set him up against the wall.

  He said, “What about my hands? They tied so tight I cain’t feel ’em no more.”

  I said, “Pretty soon. Now . . . Where is Mr. Sharp?”

  He hesitated. First he looked one way and then the other. He licked his lips. He cleared his throat.

  I said, “You can stall all you want to, but you’ll tell me. And pretty quick. Me and Chulo ain’t et, and we’re tired and want some sleep and are just generally getting out of sorts. I’m going to ask you this once more. Where is Sharp?”

  He looked sullen. He said, “He’s probably in Bodega. That’s a little port at the mouth of the Rio Grande river about—”

  I said, “I know where it is. You said ’probably.’ Where else could he be?”

  He was still acting all sullen. He said, “If he didn’t get what he wanted in Bodega, he was going on to Tampico. I was to try him first at Bodega and then follow on down the coast until I run him down.”

  The way he said it kind of puzzled me. I said, “What do you mean you was supposed to have followed him? Followed him how?”

  He looked away. He was clearly a man didn’t want to talk. I said, “Chulo, make a fresh place on his foot and give him some more rum. He seems to like it at that end better.”

  But before Chulo could move he almost shouted, “Wait! Dammit, wait! I’ll tell you. It’s just hard because it’s going to mess up the first good proposition I ever had come across my bow in my life.”

  I had been wondering why he’d been protecting Sharp to the extent he had. Now, just guessing at what he’d said, it made a little sense. If he was tied in with Sharp on some matter, he’d want to protect Sharp to protect his own interests. I said, “What?”

  He got that sullen look o
n his face again. He said, “I never had no chance to make some good money before in my life. Now I get that chance and you two fellers come along.”

  I said, “How are you supposed to follow him?”

  He looked at me like I ought to already know. He said, “Why, in the Polly Ann. At least me in the Polly Ann with the Galveston Queen in my wake. Course we was gonna be sailin’ shorthanded on account of Sharp took the best of the crews with him.”

  I said, “Wait a minute. What the hell you talking about? What is this Polly Anna stuff? This crew and all that?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Ships,” he said. “Two-masted cargo sloops. Course Sharp has already got away with the best of them, the Dolphin. Hunnert and forty feet at the waterline, can carry four hundred head of cattle or a thousand bales of cotton or tons of lumber and don’t draw enough water to drown in.”

  “I see,” I said. “So your plan was to steal all the boats Sharp’s company had left. I guess you was gonna sell them and take off with the proceeds, leaving the creditors back here holding the bag.”

  He looked puzzled. He said, “Steal ’em? How can a man steal something that belongs to him? Them’s Sharp’s ships. Hell, he can do with ’em what he wants. No, Sharp has got a plan. A hell of a plan.”

  I squatted down so we were eye to eye. I said, “Tell me about this plan.”

  He said, “Well, it’s been workin’ for quite some time, right after we lost the two big steamboats. Sharp is down in Mexico buying sick cattle. Then we’re gonna—”

  “Sick cattle? What are you talking about?”

  He said, “Hell, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout cattle. But these cattle get around other cattle, they make them sick too, and pretty soon all the cattle die. See, as a general thing we take a load of Mexican cattle to Cuba, they get slaughtered right away and never get a chance to get the other cattle sick. Only this time we ain’t going to do that. We’re going to haul nine hundred head of sick cattle to a little port on the Mexican side of Cuba and mix them in with the Cuban cattle. And as few cattle as Mr. Sharp says they got in Cuba, won’t be long before all the cattle are dead, and then we’re going to clean up.”

  I stared at him. That was the damndest idea I’d ever heard of. But I reckoned there must be some sense in it, though I was damned if I could see it. I said, “How are you planning on cleaning up?”

  He said, “Why, when they ain’t no more meat in Cuba, we come sailing in with three boatloads of cattle, all ready to be butchered. We’ll be able to name our own price. Mr. Sharp already has some Cuban head honchos in with him, and they’ll keep out other cattle shippers until we load up our sack. We was all ready to go on this when you come along.”

  So there was some sense in it. And a lot of money, it sounded like.

  I said, “But look here, what kind of sickness are these cattle supposed to have, Mexican tick fever?”

  He shook his head. “Naw, it ain’t that. Somethin’ longer. Kills ’em in about two or three weeks.”

  “Brucelosis?” I’d heard the word, but I was damned if I knew what it was. Now was when I needed Justa, though I didn’t know what business it was of mine what happened to the cattle industry in Cuba.

  “Naw.”

  I thought for a moment. “Hoof-and-mouth disease?”

  He nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s the one. Gawd, gimme another drink. An’ my hands is killin’ me.”

  I poured some more rum down him. It was easier with him sitting up. I said, “Just a few more questions.” I was thinking of Justa mentioning that Patterson had said they couldn’t ship to New Orleans on account of all they had left were coasting vessels. I asked Hull how he was going to get such ships across deep water to Cuba.

  He said, “Way the currents and the weather run in the gulf, you can take a coaster loaded to Cuba, but you can’t bring one back loaded. All different. But then we’ll be coming back empty. Hell, I could sail a rowboat around the north pole with the right crew. I nearly got my master’s papers.”

  I stood up. I said, “Well, this is some piece of work. It ain’t none of my affair, though. Sharp is all I’m after. You boys can cheat them Cubans all you want. When was you planning on leaving?”

  He said, “Was going tomorrow night, but—No, I guess it’s tonight now. It’s after midnight, ain’t it?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said. I looked at my watch. “Going on for two o’clock.” I said, “What was the real business of this vigilante bunch?”

  He shrugged. He said, “Aw, it wasn’t much. Sharp an’ Bennet had a scheme goin’ where they’d declare so much cargo sea-damaged, cotton and rum and sugar and such. They’d claim on their insurance an’ then turn around and sell it to some outfit of thieves out of Houston. Us vigilantes was supposed to see that ever’body on the docks kept their mouths shut. It was just piddlin’ stuff compared to this scheme Mr. Sharp has about making himself a market in cattle in Cuba. An’ them was his exact words. He said, ’By gawd, if they’re a-gonna cheat me here in Texas, I’ll just make me a market in Cuba. By gawd, let me see them herd cattle overland to a goddam island!’ Them was his very words.”

  I just shook my head. I said, “What a bunch, you and Bennet and Sharp.”

  He said, “You got to do something ’bout my hands.”

  I looked around. I said, “Chulo, there’s a good, heavy wooden chair. Tie him to that. Try not to tie his hands too tight, but I don’t want him getting away, neither. Even if he is a sorry example of human flesh, I don’t want his hands to rot off.”

  While Chulo was getting Hull secured to the chair, I went over and tried the door to the closet. It was a good, heavy affair and locked with the same key as the room door did. It was plenty big enough to set Hull in, chair and all. I said, “Chulo, when you get him good and tied, pick him up and put him in this closet.”

  I had the rest of my glass of brandy while Chulo was finishing up the job. As he was shoving him in the closet, Hull said, “What about me? What are you going to do to me?”

  I said, “Well, one thing we ain’t going to do is turn you loose tonight so you can show back up here with about a dozen of them hooligans off the docks. I figure we’ll cut you loose just before we leave. After that we’ll have us a little race.”

  “Race?”

  “Yeah. First one to Philip Sharp. You get there first, you get to make a lot of money off his little scheme. I get there first, I shoot him. Sabe? Gag him, Chulo, and then lock the door.”

  We had one last drink together before bed. Chulo said, “Why chou don’t let me cut thees sumbeetch’s throat?”

  “Too messy.” I said. “And I got a sheriff just waiting for me to put a foot wrong.” I got up and went into my room, leaving the connecting door open. I said, “Sleep light, compadre. Wake me up if you go early for coffee.”

  CHAPTER 8

  About eight o’clock the next morning I was sitting in my room, in a big overstuffed chair, drinking a pot of coffee a boy had brought me up, when there came a knock at my door. I wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of twill trousers. I hadn’t even put on my boots. But my gunbelt was hanging over the back of the chair, in easy reach, and I had a bottle of brandy at my feet that I’d been sweetening the coffee with. Strictly speaking I was on guard. Hull was in the closet, and Chulo had gone down to eat some breakfast. The knock came again.

  I figured it might be one of the maids coming in to make up the beds. It was either that or it was some friend of Hull’s who had scented us out. I couldn’t think who else it might be. Finally I yelled out, “Come in!”

  The door opened and Sheriff Mills strolled in. Maybe it was a holdover from my outlaw days, but the sight of a lawman coming on me unexpected always gave me a start.

  But I kind of recovered my composure and said, “Sheriff Mills. Come in, come in. Take a chair.”

  He stopped about two steps into the room and took a look around, noticing the open door connecting to Chulo’s room. Finally he took a straight-backed wooden chair away from the wal
l and sat down facing me about six or seven feet away. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He said, “Good morning, Mr. Young.”

  I said, “Sheriff, I’d offer you some coffee, but I ain’t got but the one cup.”

  He said, “I’ve had a-plenty, thanks just the same.”

  I pointed at the bottle of brandy. “Care for something a little stronger?”

  He smiled slightly. He said, “I don’t reckon so. Was a day I could have handled that in the morning, but no more.”

  I took a sip of my coffee. I said, “Well, I know you ain’t gone to the trouble to run me down just for no social visit. What can I do for you?”

  Before he said anything, the sheriff took off his hat, set it crown-downward on the floor beside him, and then smoothed his gray hair with a careless hand. He said, “Mr. Young, a Ross Bennet come to see me this morning. Damn near got to the office before I did. Do you know a Ross Bennet?”

  “I sure as hell do!” I said. I straightened up in my chair, trying to look indignant. I said, “I called on that gentelman last night in the most polite fashion. Wanted to ask him some questions about Philip Sharp’s whereabouts because I knew they’d had business dealings. Well, the upshot of the matter was he pulled a gun on me and ordered me away from him if I valued my life. The gun was a derringer and he had it in his vest pocket. He was acting so careless with it I took it away from him for his own safety and flung it away. I suppose he come and told you some quite different story. I wouldn’t put it past his like.”

  The sheriff looked tired. “Yes, there was a difference in what he had to say.”