From Candace to CandyChapter 7
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How Lucky Can You Get?Chapter 3 free porn video
The saloon was pretty quiet when I walked in. This was in the middle of the week, so most people would have to get up early to be at work as soon as it was daylight. That kept the crowd pretty thin except on Saturday night when people could sleep late on Sunday. Hell, a lot of men slept as late as 7:00 AM on Sunday morning! Thank God, I led the carefree life of the self-employed, so I could sleep late if I wanted to. The only restriction on me was getting up in time to make it for breakfast at the restaurant.
I moseyed up to the bar and ordered a Mexican beer. I was flush with money, so I didn't mind paying the 12¢ for the beer. Most men took the local beer at 6¢ per mug, but my tastes were too refined for that. I picked up my bottle and glass and looked around for a place to sit. Most of the tables were empty, and not even the poker table was filled.
I was feeling kind of lucky, what with all of the reward money I had coming my way, so I decided to sit in on the poker game. It was a penny-ante game, so my relative unfamiliarity with the game would not be too expensive. I had learned how to play at school, unofficially, of course, but I could hold my own with my classmates, so I decided to see what I could manage out here in the real world.
Of course, I lost the first few hands as I tried to get into the flow of the game, but I kept losing, much more than I thought was really reasonable. Nevertheless, I could not detect any cheating, so I stuck with it. By the time I quit playing, I was down $32, and I was sorely vexed at my luck. I stopped at the bar for one more beer, and the dealer walked past me as I was finishing it up. He was practically arm-in-arm with another man who had been at the table, and that struck me as peculiar. The man with the dealer had been the big winner, and he had taken nearly $50 from the dealer that night. That was just too much money to lose for two strangers to be so buddy-buddy.
I don't normally have a suspicious nature, but I wondered what was going on, so I followed the two as they left the saloon. For some reason I can't state at the moment, I just decided not to be so obvious as I followed the two men. I stayed in the shadows as much as possible, and they did not seem to notice me. If they did, they may have figured that I was drunk.
Anyway, they continued on their way and continued to talk loud enough for me to hear what they were saying.
The dealer's companion said, "I swear, Joe, that was easy tonight! Them rubes weren't even close ta catchin' on ta the way ya was feedin' me cards."
"Yeah, Chuck, but the reflecting ring I wear makes it very damned easy fer me ta see the face cards. Alls I had ta do was ta palm them and feed 'em ta ya when I dealt yer hand."
The conversation wandered to many other subjects, but I had heard enough to be very pissed at these two cheats. I decided to hang around town tomorrow and sit in on their game again. The difference was that I was going to expose them before the night was over.
I did take the time the next day to purchase a new set of clothes and to arrange for my current clothes to be washed. That job would be finished by the time I returned to town after my next hunting expedition. That evening, I returned to the saloon and joined in on the poker game.
The play ran for an hour or so with the same man winning the majority of the big pots and the dealer winning the other big ones. The two of them were over $150 ahead when I suddenly interrupted the game by announcing to the other two players, "Gentlemen, those two are cheating us on almost every hand!"
There were cries of consternation from the other two losers, and cries of disagreement from the two winners. I broke into this with the statement, "I know how the cheating worked, and I can prove it. Mr. Dealer, put down the cards and show us your left hand."
With a shout of "NEVER!", the dealer jumped back and pointed his right hand at me. I saw the derringer come plowing out of his sleeve and I ducked. I pulled my own gun with my right hand and shot the dealer in the crotch as I aimed under the table. The dealer rocked back from the impact of my .44 caliber bullet and fired his derringer into the ceiling as he fell to the floor.
His mate in cheating fumbled for his gun which he was wearing at his thigh, and that gave me plenty of time to put a bullet into his gut, as he was still sitting in his chair. Had he stood up before drawing, he might have had a chance to get off a shot, but never from his seat while carrying his gun that way. Both men bled profusely, but neither one was going to survive their wound. I could see the bright red arterial blood pouring out from their bodies in spurts, and I knew what that meant.
I was not worried about being shot by either man at this point because the derringer was a single-shot weapon, and the other man had dropped his gun as he finally got it extracted from the holster. Oh, well, cheating at poker was an unforgivable offense, so they both deserved what they got for their chicanery.
As expected, the marshal showed up shortly after the powder smoke had cleared, and he asked what had happened. I gave him a short rundown of the events, and the witnesses backed me up. He acknowledged that I was in the right, and called for the undertaker to take care of the bodies, both of whom had died while we talked.
Each of us took back what we had lost to the two cheaters, and I was awarded whatever remained of their worldly goods. Both men were wearing well filled moneybelts, so I received quite a reward for my efforts. When I got a full count of the gold and silver, it came to a total of $563. Hell, my stay in Missouri was paying well! I wondered how much longer this could last.
Several people asked how I detected the cheating, and I admitted to hearing the men talk when they left the saloon the previous night. That did nothing to dim the glamour of my accomplishment in exposing the cheaters, and it was a lot more believable than if I had tried to lie about spotting the dealer palming the cards. Anyway, I had too much beer that night as my new friends and admirers stood round after round. I finally broke away and stumbled back to my hotel room.
I was very lucky that I was not robbed that night, because I could not have done much to defend myself after so much beer. I slept through breakfast and woke up with a terrible headache. I swore that I would never again drink to excess, as the pain afterward was just not worth the buzz from the alcohol. Actually, I was in such sad shape that I spent the whole day in bed and did not get up until time for supper.
By the next morning, I was recovered and on my way out of town. I headed for the same starting place that I had previously used, but, once there, I shifted to a new heading. I guessed that I had pretty well emptied the areas that I had been hunting, so I figured to try a new zone of the woods. These woods were not so thick, so I didn't have much trouble riding among the trees. I had gone about 500 yards when I heard the sound of a gunshot and a bullet striking a tree just slightly off line from my head.
As I said before, my reaction time to danger is very quick, so I was out of the saddle and holding my Henry at the ready before the attacker had time for another shot. I caught a glimpse of the powder smoke as I dismounted, so I had a pretty good idea where the shot had come from. It was only about 50 yards away, so I had to admit to being surprised that the shooter had missed me. It must be some more of my fabulous luck acting in my favor. Well, I had no intention of depending on that luck, so I considered my options.
As it happened, the gunshot had come from the side opposite to the one that I had dismounted to. That gave me the breathing space I needed to come up with a plan. The first thing I did was to lay my rifle on the ground. The range was so short that I was going to rely on my revolvers for this encounter. Fortunately, my horse was trained to stand still when the reins were dropped, so I did not have to worry about him wandering off.
Fawn
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