Second Round: A Return to the Ur-Bar

by Garth Nix

  Conason nodded to her. “That depends, ma’am.”

  She laughed again. “Please, all of you—no formality. It’s just Missy.” With that, she turned and headed for a card table, one that, Conason was sure, hadn’t been there when he’d come in.

  “Eldritch,” Stanton said quietly.

  “Something’s not right,” Black Jack agreed, as they followed Missy. “Though with a gal as pretty as this one, I’m inclined not to care. I want to know if you think you’re taking me in, though, Conason.”

  Conason sighed to himself. “Are you wanted?”

  “You know I am.”

  “Are you in my territory?”

  “Unsure.”

  “Are you going to cause me problems?”

  Black Jack grinned. “Now, that depends.”

  “On what?” Conason asked.

  “On whether or not causing you problems will be fun, or if that little gal decides she’s interested in me and you try to stop her.”

  “She seems grown,” Conason said. “If she’s interested in you, fine. You try to force yourself on her? I consider that causing a problem I will definitely stop.”

  “I don’t need to force myself on women,” Black Jack growled.

  “Keep it that way.”

  Stanton rolled his eyes, pulled out a chair for Missy, seated her, then seated himself next to her. Black Jack grunted, then hurried to the seat on Missy’s other side. Conason didn’t mind—this put him opposite her and that was a fair place to be.

  Stanton produced a deck of cards and began to shuffle. “Those marked?” Black Jack asked.

  Stanton heaved a sigh. “I don’t need marked cards to win.”

  “He didn’t ask if you did,” Conason said. “He asked if this particular deck was marked.”

  Stanton flashed a grin. “Your reputation seems to be accurate, Marshall. And no, the deck isn’t marked.”

  They played five card stud for a while. Stanton won most often, but all of them were in the game, Missy included. Bargirls brought drinks over for all of them and the bar remained busy, but no one else entered and no one left.

  “No one coming from the west, then,” Conason said absently, as he looked at another decent, but probably not winning, hand.

  Missy cocked her head at him. “I came in from the west.” She smiled. “I always do.”

  Stanton looked at her sharply. “Do you?”

  Missy nodded. “I do. And I’ll take two cards.”

  Conason considered the gambler’s reaction. It meant something or indicated knowledge Stanton might have that he didn’t. Conason had a feeling he was going to need that knowledge.

  As another round arrived, Missy started asking them questions, saying she wanted to know their histories. Black Jack, apparently quite eager to impress, answered first, and at length.

  They were on a third hand after Missy’s question before the outlaw started to wind down. “… and so, I’m wanted in seven states and territories.”

  “Impressive,” Missy said, sounding genuine. “And yet, you haven’t killed all that many people.”

  “No, Missy, I haven’t. I consider it a point of pride not to kill someone just because I can. I only kill them if I have to.” He shot a glance at Conason. “Or if they force me to.”

  Conason sighed. “Law taking you in for crimes you’ve just gleefully listed isn’t forcing you to shoot, Black Jack. That’s all on you.”

  The outlaw shrugged. “Someone stupid enough to go up against me? I figure it’s better I take ‘em out quick, before they can spread that ignorance.”

  Stanton snorted. “You’re a benefit to society, sir.” He smiled as Missy. “I doubt you need the good Marshall’s testimony, but let’s have him give it to you before mine.”

  “Saving the best for last?” Missy asked in a teasing tone.

  Stanton shrugged. “As I told the Marshall only a short time ago, I prefer to remain somewhat anonymous.”

  “Oh, but you’re anything but,” Missy countered. “Why, I’ll bet you’ve cleaned out many a man of his life’s savings.”

  Stanton nodded slowly. “I’m sure I have. I try not to turn anyone into a beggar or an indigent, however.”

  “Do you always succeed?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” the gambler said. “I tend to not remain in one place too often.”

  “Ah.” She smiled. “A traveling man, and one who prefers it that way.”

  Stanton’s eyes narrowed. “May I ask why you’re here, Missy? You seem far more educated and elegant than the rest of the young ladies present.”

  “Oh, I’d rather hear about you and the Marshall,” she demurred.

  “I’m with Stanton,” Conason said. “I’d like to know how a lovely woman such as yourself happens to be here, in this nowhere town.”

  “But I’m not in the town,” Missy said. “I’m in Gil’s Place.”

  Stanton took in a long breath. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “Am I free to leave?”

  Missy put her hand on his wrist. “Now, what do you think?”

  Stanton didn’t speak but, for the first time, the gambler looked frightened.

  Missy laughed softly. “You relax. I’ll be right back.” She moved to get up and Stanton quickly stood and helped her with her chair. The other men stood, too. Missy smiled at them, went to the bar, and started talking to Gil.

  Conason and Black Jack sat, but Stanton didn’t. “Gentlemen,” he said as he gathered his winnings, “I believe I’m going to quickly take my leave.”

  “I don’t think that’d be smart,” Black Jack said. “I think we’re all three in danger right now. Marshall, what’s your take?”

  “I don’t think things are as we think they are.”

  “Or they’re exactly as we think they are,” Stanton said. He put his money away, looked up, went pale, and sat back down.

  Conason and Black Jack both looked where Stanton had. The doors to the bar were gone. They were now in a room with no exit.

  “Tell us,” Conason said to Stanton. “I know you have an idea of what’s going on here.”

  Stanton shook his head. “If you don’t already know, I believe it would be dangerous to say aloud.”

  Black Jack played with his gun. “More dangerous than not telling me what I want to know?”

  Stanton heaved a sigh. “Probably similar.” He shot a glance towards the bar. Missy and Gil were still deep in conversation. “Fine,” he said, turning back. “I can’t speak for the Marshall, but I know that you, Mister Riley, like I, saw this establishment as empty when we first stepped in.” Black Jack nodded.

  “I did as well,” Conason said. “And the table we’re at wasn’t here when I came in, and no one put it here. Missy wanted it and it appeared.”

  “Exactly. Well, when one is what she is, what one wants, one gets. At least, I assume.”

  “You’d better explain that,” Conason said, before Black Jack could threaten the gambler again. “Because I know we’re not following you.”

  Stanton nodded. “Perhaps not. In a great number of religions, it’s considered that Death comes from the West. You, Marshall, murmured something about the West and Missy confirmed that’s where she comes from. Always. It’s not possible to always come from only one direction, unless you happen to be the personification of Death, and then, I imagine, you can manage it.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Conason said slowly. “It’s why I was still wondering who was coming from the west, since the three of us all were riding in from the other three directions. But I always took it to be a metaphor.”

  “Not all myths are false,” Stanton pointed out.

  “So, she’s the Devil?” Black Jack asked, sounding far less frightened than most would when uttering that question. Then again, Conason wasn’t sure that Black Jack didn’t have a tight relationship with the entity in question.

  “No,” Stanton said. “Though I place no bets on who or what Gil is. But Death isn’t evil, and it isn’t f
rom the Devil. It’s a natural part of life.”

  “This situation is as far from natural as you can get,” Conason pointed out.

  “Conason’s right, and now we can’t leave because the doors are gone,” Black Jack said. “Think we can shoot our way out?”

  “No,” Conason replied. “I think we need to ask why we’re here. And by here, I mean the three of us, in this location, at this time.” He pulled out a telegraph. “I was told to come here, by the U.S. Marshall’s office, in order to apprehend a criminal.”

  “Me?” Black Jack asked, sounding interested as opposed to aggressive. Meaning, Conason hoped, that the outlaw was more concerned with thinking than fighting, at least at the moment.

  “No, actually.” He nodded at Stanton. “I’m here to apprehend a known confidence man and gambler who stole three towns’ treasuries. Didn’t have a name, just the general direction he was coming from and the likeliest point where I could hopefully catch up to him.”

  Stanton grinned. “Guilty as charged.” He looked at Black Jack. “I was told that Black Jack Riley was looking to add a man into his gang and I wanted the protection riding with a man such as yourself would provide, particularly since you’ve never been known to kill any man riding with you.”

  “Huh.” Black Jack looked thoughtful. “I was told that Marshall Conason was going to be here and wanted to call me out on the draw.”

  “And you came?” Stanton sounded shocked.

  Black Jack shrugged. “I know I’m faster. And that would have gotten a good lawman off my trail, legally.”

  “Not quite,” Conason said. “But I agree that if I was the one calling you out and you won, the Marshall’s Office would just think I was a moron who deserved to die.”

  “We, all three, appear to be morons about to die,” Stanton said. “If we’re not dead already. She’s Death. I’m certain of it. She wants us listing our sins before she passes judgment or whatever it is she’s doing. Mister Riley listed his, I have my share, and I’m sure you have them, too, Marshall. I have no idea if this is just a way for her to pass the time or if there’s something more sinister afoot, but all of us are in grave danger, pun not intended, and unless we work together, we’re all going to be together for the rest of our now much shorter lives.”

  “She’s coming back,” Conason said softly. “What do you recommend?”

  “I vote for us just asking her what her game is,” Black Jack replied.

  Stanton nodded. “We know. Why prolong it? We may already be dead and just not be aware of it. I agree that confrontation is the right course of action.”

  Missy reached the table. All three men stood and Stanton helped her into her seat. “Well,” she said with a smile, “where were we?”

  “You were having us tell you our life histories,” Conason said, “in order, we suspect, to determine which one of us dies today.”

  “Not that you should need us to list anything,” Black Jack added truculently, presumably because he’d already shared everything. “I thought Death knew all about us.”

  She shook her head and tinkled a laugh. “Oh, I’m not omnipotent. Besides—everyone sins.”

  “So, Gabriel’s right? You admit to being Death?” Conason asked.

  Missy laughed. “A lady never admits to anything against her favor.”

  Stanton sighed. “Until today, I didn’t think this was how death worked.”

  She patted his hand. “I knew you’d figure it out, though I’m a little disappointed in the Marshall.”

  Conason shrugged. “Sorry. I was too distracted by you.”

  She smiled. “That’s sweet.”

  “You were even more beautiful when I first saw you,” Conason said.

  “For me, too,” Black Jack admitted.

  “There has to be a reason,” Conason said. “So, why?”

  Missy smiled but didn’t reply.

  Stanton did. “She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, too. I believe that might be because the three of us have been courting her for a long time. Most of our lives.”

  “A lady always likes to look her best for her admirers.” She produced a deck of cards. “Let’s keep playing.”

  “Why?” Stanton asked as she dealt the cards, slowly and carefully. She’d dealt as fast as Stanton during prior hands and Conason knew this hand was going to be very different.

  “I enjoy it.”

  “Who are all the people in here?” Conason asked. “The ones who aren’t really here, I mean.”

  “Oh, the only ones not really here are the three of you,” Missy said. “One of you will stay forever, two of you will go on.”

  “We’re back to Gabriel’s point,” Conason said. “Death doesn’t work this way.”

  “Marshall, how would you know how death works?” she asked.

  “You shoot a man, he dies,” Black Jack answered. “You hang a man, he dies. Someone takes ill, unless they’re lucky, they die. Some get old and they die. How else does it work?”

  “I thought Death was the great equalizer,” Stanton agreed. “Something that comes to all, each in their own time. Not capricious.”

  “Children die, good people die while terrible ones live, and you don’t find that capricious?” Missy shook her head. “Death is both predictable and capricious. Just like life.”

  “What’s the game, then?” Black Jack asked.

  “You’re betting your lives,” Missy said, as she finished dealing. “Seven card stud. Stakes are your crimes or your successes. Winner gets to choose.”

  “Choose what?” Conason asked.

  “All in good time,” Missy said as she looked at her cards. None of the men touched theirs.

  Conason considered his options. “If I fold? Or refuse to play?”

  Missy grimaced and Stanton’s eyes lit up. “If we all fold or refuse to play, what then?”

  Missy cocked her head at them. “Well, then, I’ll simply choose who I want the most. So, it would behoove all of you to play.”

  “Or to play together,” Black Jack said. “What do we get if we win, if we beat you?”

  “You believe you can beat me?” Missy asked, sounding interested versus offended.

  “Sure,” Black Jack said. “The Marshall and I have beaten death a lot. I’m sure our gambler here has, too. That’s why we’re still around.”

  “And possibly why you set us up to be here with you now,” Stanton added. “We’ve cheated you too much and you want to take one of us out of the game permanently.”

  “And you’re sure I’m who you think I am?” Missy asked. “Not just letting you believe what you want to believe?”

  The three men looked at each other. Conason concentrated and looked at things out of the corner of his eyes. There was a slight haze around them, and the others in the bar seemed insubstantial, as if made of gauze. Missy looked as beautiful as the first moment he’d seen her. “I’m sure,” Conason said. The others nodded.

  Missy smiled enigmatically. “Say you’re correct. How does that change anything?”

  “I suggest a different game,” Conason said. “Seems only fair, since it might be the last one I ever play.”

  Missy raised her eyebrow. But she put her cards down. “Oh? What game would that be?”

  “Three-card monte,” Conason replied before the others could speak. “With Stanton as the dealer. For all hands.”

  Missy smiled slowly. “You trust your life to his?”

  Conason looked straight at the gambler. “I do.”

  Black Jack looked back and forth between the two men. “I do, too,” he said finally.

  Missy shoved the cards near her towards Stanton, but Conason reached across the table and stopped her. “Not that deck.” He reached into his vest pocket. “This deck.” He tossed the cards to Stanton. Who pulled them out of their box quickly and began to shuffle.

  Missy laughed. “I like your style, Marshall. Fine, we’ll use your deck.” She leaned towards him. “But … this makes you very inter
esting now.”

  Conason shrugged. “Have to figure I was interesting to begin with. I’ll take my chances.”

  Stanton laid out three cards in front of him but didn’t show where the Queen they’d have to find was sitting. “Only one deal. This one. And only Missy plays. Those are my terms.”

  Missy’s lips quirked. “I see. You’re more interesting now, too, Mister Stanton.”

  “If you win, you get all of us,” Black Jack said. “And if you lose, you get none of us. And those are my terms.”

  Missy sat back. “Well. I accept those terms, Mister Riley. The game just got more interesting. For me. I know it’s already fascinating for the three of you.”

  Stanton turned over the middle card. “The Queen of Hearts. Follow her properly and take us all. Fail, and the three of us leave here, unharmed, quite alive, and with the rest of our years still to live.”

  Missy nodded. “Agreed.”

  Stanton turned the card over and started to move the cards around, slowly at first, then faster and faster. He spoke a typical gambler’s patter the entire time—Conason had heard this kind of vocal distraction often over the years. “Midway through—here’s the Queen, did you follow her properly so far?” Stanton turned over the righthand card.

  “I did,” Missy said, sounding amused. “As if there was any doubt.”

  Conason noted that the others in the bar, even Gil, were taking an interest. Meaning there might indeed be some doubt. He was counting on it, and so were the others. As long as she was truly not omnipotent, they had a chance.

  Stanton grinned, turned the card over, and moved them again, even faster than before, patter going at the same speed, moving his hands and his mouth faster than any other gambler Conason had seen. Conason stopped trying to figure out where the Queen was—either Missy would find her or she wouldn’t. There was nothing he could to do affect this outcome.

  “Test your luck,” Stanton said finally, hands off the cards and away from the table. “Choose the lady or lose the prize.”

  Missy smiled widely. “So well played. You tried so hard, too.” She pointed to Stanton’s right sleeve. “It’s there. You palmed it right after you showed us where it was.”