Slip Gun (5 page)

‘
I’ll
bet those dudes’re wishing they didn’t have their wives with them,’
Burbury commented. They keep eyeing that blonde gal real
interested.’

‘
So do
you,’ Smith pointed out.

‘
I’m
smart,’ grinned the drummer. ‘I don’t have no wife to bring
along.’

Mrs. Gilpin
’s kitchen staff appeared and
she told a girl to serve Smith and Burbury. Coming over, the girl
set down her loaded tray. While she was handing the Texan a plate
of boiled potatoes and stew, the front door opened to admit a
man.

Halting just inside the room,
the newcomer shook water from his sodden Stetson and subjected the
occupants to a wary scrutiny. He was tall, gaunt, unshaven and clad
in dirty range clothes. Unlike the hat, his other garments had only
a slight sprinkling of rain on them although his boots were muddy.
As
his eyes
roamed from face to face, he kept his right hand dangling close to
the wooden grips of the Peacemaker in its tied-down
holster.

Although Smith gave no sign of
noticing, he was aware that the man
’s gaze halted on him for a couple of
seconds. Acting casually, the Texan lowered his hands out of the
man’s sight under the table. Even as he started to ease off the
right glove, the eyes left him. From Smith, the newcomer turned to
study Sheriff McCobb. Displaying no concern over the peace
officer’s presence, the newcomer slouched towards a table on the
opposite side to the farmer and sat down facing the main
door.

‘
That’s
a mean-looking bastard,’ Burbury remarked and grinned
apologetically at the girl. It’s Eye-talian for a nice feller,
honey.’

‘
Last
feller who said it reckoned it was German for somebody’s uncle,’
she replied, passing the drummer a knife, fork and spoon. There’s
apple turn-over next.’

‘
Did
you know that feller, Wax?’ Burbury inquired, after the girl had
gone to serve the farmer and his wife.

‘
Can’t
come out and say “yes” to that,’ Smith answered. ‘Should I know
him?’

‘
Likely
not,’ the drummer admitted, whipping out a large white handkerchief
and tucking it like a napkin into his shirt’s detachable celluloid
collar. ‘Hey! This stew looks real good. I’ve had some mighty bad
meals at way stations.’

‘
And
me,’ drawled Smith, then started to eat.

‘
Do you
do much travelling?’

‘
Some.
I work for the Smith Land and Cattle Company down in
Texas.’

‘
Can’t
say I’ve heard of it.’

‘
We’ve
not been going long,’ Smith explained.

‘
Good
cattle country, Texas,’ Burbury remarked. ‘Bet you’ll not be sorry
to be getting back.’

‘
Yeah,’
Smith replied flatly. A roar of laughter rose from the blonde’s
party and he nodded towards them. ‘Sounds like they’re having
fun.’

‘
Sounds
like,’ the drummer agreed and tucked into his stew with evidence of
a good appetite.

Two more men entered while Smith
and Burbury were waiting for their apple turn-over to arrive.
Although they each carried a gun in a fast-draw holster, neither
exhibited the caution of the earlier arrival. Both were tall, slim
and elegantly dressed. The younger had a handsome, if sullen face.
Under his open fish, his clothes might have served for an
illustration of the latest cowhand fashion. Swarthily good-looking
and maybe ten years his companion
’s senior, the other looked as if he had
just left a card game on a Mississippi river-boat. He sported a
white, flat-topped, broad-brimmed planter’s hat. Removing his cloak
coat showed him to have on a cutaway jacket, white frilly-bosomed
shirt, string tie and light-grey trousers tucked into muddy
Wellington half-boots.

‘
Fancy
pair,’ Barbury remarked as the couple walked by and took a
side table. ‘Wonder if the young ’n’ ever worked with
cattle?’

‘
His
partner sure never handled anything heavier than a deck of cards,
or a gun,’ Smith guessed. ‘I didn’t hear them ride by.’

‘
Or me.
Which they’d have to if they’d come east along the stage trail,’
the drummer replied. ‘Let’s hope the apple turnover’s as good as
the stew.’

Flicking a glance at his
companion, Smith felt puzzled. Burbury sat back on his chair,
gazing blandly to where the blonde and her party were making a
noisy meal. There was something wrong about the drummer. Just what,
Smith could not put his finger upon. While he acted in an amiable,
friendly manner, he still caused the Texan to have an uneasy
sensation that all was not as it should be. Maybe it was his habit
of asking questions, or making comments which ran parallel to
Smith
’s own
thoughts.

With their meal over, Smith and
Burbury crossed to the bar. At the main table, various diners rose
and left. Laughing and promising to come back, the blonde walked
away from her party. Followed by almost every male eye, she
disappeared into the women
’s room. Having been deprived of their mutual
bond, the brothers and the drummers separated.

About to follow the drummers to
the bar, the brothers were halted by their uncle. Smith had watched
the sheriff excuse himself from the dudes and guessed that he would
be the reason for McCobb
’s actions. Sure enough, the sheriff started to
talk quietly but with some emphasis. Smith could not catch the
words, but figured McCobb must be warning them about their conduct.
When Billy and Angus left their uncle, they went to the far end of
the bar. That put the drummers and some distance between them and
the Texan; which suited Smith admirably.

Dad Derham took up position
behind the bar, a soiled apron over his working clothes. Greeting
Smith, he explained Gilpin
’s absence. Apparently the party of dudes were
important Chicago folks, with letters of introduction from the
Governor and other civic dignitaries at the capital. So they had
been asked to spend the night at the Gilpins’ house, instead of
having to share the ordinary passengers’ accommodation. Having
ingratiated himself with the visitors, McCobb had been included in
the offer.

‘
Likely
they only fed in here to see how the poor folks live,’ grinned the
old hostler. ‘Anyways, I don’t reckon we’ll see any more of them
tonight.’

‘
Which
I’ll live through,’ Burbury declared. ‘Who I do want to see is that
blonde gal.’

‘
You
mean Lily Shivers?’ Derham asked. ‘She’s some gal. Runs the Happy
Bull saloon in Widow’s Creek. Her and Wil Jeffreys don’t get on too
good.’

‘
How
about some service, barkeep?’ called one of the
drummers.

‘
Be
right there,’ Derham promised.

‘
Afore
you go,’ Burbury said. ‘Do you know that mean-looking cuss
there?’

‘
Nope,’
the old timer admitted. ‘I could guess what he is,
though.’

‘
And
me,’ Burbury admitted. ‘How’d he come in?’

‘
Dunno,’ Derham replied and stumped off to answer a further
request for service from the three drummers.

‘
You
seem tolerable interested in that
hombre,’
Smith remarked to Burbury.

‘
His
kind make me uneasy,’ the burly man confessed. ‘I’m carrying a
fair-sized wad of folding money. Enough to make a hold-up worth
trying.’

Leaving their wet hats and outer
jackets at the table they had used, the gambler and his
dandy-dressed companion crossed to
the bar. They took up positions between
Smith and the trio of drummers.

‘
Howdy,
gents,’ the gambler said, addressing the latter. ‘Would I offend
you if I asked you to take a drink with us?’

‘
We’ve
never been offended by that,’ grinned the largest of the
three.

‘
I’ll
have a Bourbon,’ the dandy ordered when asked to name his
poison.

‘
Not
here, you won’t,’ Derham replied. ‘Boss don’t cater for eddicated
thirsts, mister.’

‘
Then
he won’t mind if I drink my own,’ the dandy stated, pulling a
silver flask from the inside pocket of his fancy fringed-buckskin
jacket.

‘
If he
does, he’ll tell you,’ Derham answered. ‘It don’t make no
never-mind to me what you drink.’

With the round of drinks bought, the gambler
set a conversation going. Introductions were made loud enough for
Smith to learn that the gambler was Nolan Hardy and the dandy went
by the name of Roy Hayward. After some preliminary chatter, Hardy
suggested that they might find a means of passing a couple of
hours.

‘
I
never sit in a game against a feller I know plays better’n me,’ the
largest drummer replied warily.

Lowering the flask from his
lips, Hayward fixed the speaker with a cold eye and growled,
‘What’s that
supposed to mean?’

‘
Nothing, Roy, nothing,’ Hardy put in. ‘That’s good, sound
sense. I’m the same way. In fact, I prefer a game that does away
with the ugly element of skill and lets luck have a full
rein.’

‘
Such
as?’ challenged the middle-sized drummer.

‘
This,’
Hardy replied and laid a small metal object like an eight-sided .50
caliber bullet set on a stick upon the counter. ‘What in hell’d
that be?’ demanded the biggest drummer.

‘
Just
the latest sensation in San Francisco,’ Hardy replied. ‘A
put-and-take top, it’s called.’

‘
How do
you use it?’ the smallest drummer inquired, staring wide-eyed at
the thickness of the wallet from which the gambler paid for the
drinks.

‘
Simplicity itself,’ Hardy explained, dropping the wallet on
to the counter and taking up the top. ‘You see that each face has a
letter and figure or “All” on it. P-1, T-1, P-3, T-3, P-4, T-4,
P-All, T-All.’ While speaking, he turned the faces to show the
markings. ‘To play, you give it a spin with the stick and do
whatever the uppermost face tells you. If it says P-1, you put one
dime, or whatever you’re playing for into the pot. Say you get T-3
come up, you take three out. When the T-All shows, you rake in the
pot. And that’s all there is to it.’

‘
Sounds
easy,’ the biggest drummer admitted.

‘
Only
you don’t like it!’ Hayward spat out, glaring at the man. ‘Listen,
feller, Nolan saved my life one time and I don’t let nobody
disrespect him.’

‘
Take
it easy, Roy,’ Hardy said in a placating manner. ‘These gents mean
no disrespect. Come on, you and I’ll have a game.’

‘
I’d
like to give that top a whirl,’ stated the medium-sized drummer,
eyes flickering to Hardy’s wallet.

‘
And
me,’ declared the smallest, clearly sharing his companions’
interest.

‘
Then
borrow it and try it out amongst yourselves, gentlemen,’ Hardy
offered. ‘That way you’ll be able to see how the game
goes.’

‘
I’ll
bet they don’t,’ Burbury whispered in Smith’s ear. ‘Look at them.
They’re eyeing that wallet like a deacon watching a pretty gal
sinner undress.’

‘
Why
sure,’ drawled the Texan, settling his jacket more firmly on his
shoulders. ‘Did you ever hear tell of that game?’

‘
Nope.
It looks square enough, though. And even up for all. Unless there’s
some way a feller can control how that top falls, skill don’t come
anywheres in it.’

‘
Come
on, let’s have a go at it,’ the biggest drummer said. ‘All of
us.’

‘
A dime
a point?’ Hardy recommended. ‘We can always go higher
later.’

‘
Aw,
make it a dollar,’ grinned the largest drummer. ‘Hell! Most we can
lose at a go’s four.’

‘
I’d
prefer a dime,’ Hardy objected.

‘
That’ll make ’em the more set to go for the dollar,’
Burbury commented. ‘They’ll be sure that he’s no edge on
them.’

The burly man proved to have a
sound judgment of character. Brushing aside the
gambler
’s
objections, the trio insisted that the stakes be a dollar a
point.

‘
AH
right,’ Hardy sighed resignedly. ‘A dollar it is.’

‘
How
many can play?’ Billy McCobb called, having followed the
conversation.

‘
Any
number,’ the gambler replied. That’s where put-and-take licks card
games. Do you want to come in?’

‘
Might’s well,’ Billy agreed, darting a glance at the door
of the women’s quarters. ‘There’s nothing else to do.’