They played a couple of hands, neither of which Longarm was able to be a part of because of the cards he’d drawn. Then the deal passed to Goustwhite. Longarm watched as the player shuffled the cards and set them to his right, in front of Austin Davis, to be cut. Davis took the top half of the cards off and cut them toward Goustwhite. Just as Goustwhite put his right hand out to complete the cut and join the two halves, he nodded toward the front of the saloon and said, “Look yonder who is coming.”
Longarm, like every player at the table, started to glance toward the door. But out of the left corner of his eye he saw a blur of motion. He cut his eyes back in time to see Austin Davis smash the barrel of his revolver down across Goustwhite’s forearm. Goustwhite screamed, and the other players switched their attention back to the table. They stared in disbelief as, in one motion, Austin Davis moved the barrel of his revolver off Goustwhite’s arm and stuck the muzzle in the man’s neck, right under his ear. Davis said, “All right, Amos, now take your damn hand off that deck. Real slow and careful or I’ll blow your brains on the ceiling.”
Goustwhite was screaming in pain, but he was mindful of the revolver muzzle rammed up under his chin.
One or two of the other players called out for Longarm to do something, to stop Austin Davis from killing the man. But Longarm simply watched. He had the feeling that Davis knew what he was doing and was doing it on purpose.
Goustwhite said in a high, wailing voice, “You’ve broke my arm! You crazy sonofabitch, you’ve broke my arm plumb off!”
Davis jabbed him harder with the muzzle of his pistol. “Move your damn hand, Amos. I’ll give you one more warning. Get it off them cards or I’ll break something else.”
Still moaning and crying, Goustwhite reached across his body with his left hand, picked up his right arm and hand, and laid them carefully on the table before him. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes shut against the pain. He said, “Marshal, the man nearly has kilt me! I want him arrested.”
Austin Davis slowly lowered his revolver and transferred it to his left hand. He kept the muzzle dug in Goustwhite’s side and said, “This man has been making a false cut. I noticed him at it last night. But I waited until now, when Marshal Long was here, to call him on it.”
Davis had the other players’ attention. He said, “He give me the cards to cut. I cut them. But just as he went to put them back together, he called our attention away from the table. I pretended to look, but instead, I was watching his hand. He put the cards back together exactly as they had been before he shuffled them. I think he stacked the cards before the cut, while he was shuffling. When he put them back the same way he left them set up to deal himself a good hand. He had already called for five-card draw. I will be greatly surprised if he don’t have at least three of a kind. In fact, if he doesn’t, I’ll give him five hundred dollars. That sound fair?”
The other men were nodding. Longarm didn’t say anything. Davis looked at him. “Well, Marshal?”
Longarm shrugged. “Why don’t you let him whack you across the forearm with his pistol?”
Davis grinned, his eyes dancing. “Instead of the five hundred or in addition to it?”
“In addition to it.”
“Fine.”
One of the players said, “Hell, deal them out. Let us see.”
Goustwhite suddenly made a sound and tried to rise. “I got to go see a doctor. I feel awful.”
Davis jabbed him hard with his revolver. “Sit down, Amos. That blow on your arm is at least three feet from your heart. You’ll live.”
Goustwhite slowly settled back in his chair, but he cradled his hurt forearm to his chest and rocked slowly back and forth, moaning as he did.
“Turn those cards, Davis,” Longarm said.
Austin Davis put out his right hand to the deck. It had shuffled off a little, and he squared it with nimble fingers. Then he began dealing the cards around. On the first card, dealing from Goustwhite’s position, Goustwhite drew a king. On the second round of cards Goustwhite drew another king. The players were slowly starting to cuss.
As Davis dealt the third round Goustwhite again tried to rise. The man on his other side put his hand on Goustwhite’s shoulder and shoved him back in the chair. He said, “Sit down. Let’s see what that third card is.”
On the third card Goustwhite drew a third king. Austin Davis stopped and slouched back in his chair. He slowly transferred his revolver to his right hand and then shoved the pistol home in its holster. He said, “Any point in dealing on? He’s kind of a clumsy crook. I don’t reckon he could have stacked the deck any deeper than three down. But three of a kind will win most pots in draw poker.”
One of the men looked at Longarm. “What had we ought to do, Marshal?”
Longarm shrugged. “I’m not a marshal right now. My badge is in my pocket. I’m just a poker player.”
Austin Davis said, “I know what to do. He cheated to win money. Now he is going to lose it for the same reason.” He reached over in front of Goustwhite and picked up the man’s stake.
Between groans, Goustwhite looked around and said, almost sobbing, “Some of that is my start money. They is seventy dollar of my own money in thar’.”
Austin Davis was undeterred. He said, “About what you won last night.”
He glanced up at Goustwhite. “Now I wish to hell I’d hit you harder. You damn near won as much as I did last night, and that irritates the hell out of me.”
Goustwhite said, clutching his arm, “Who says you didn’t cheat?”
Davis fixed him with a look. “You are a damn fool. The day I have to cheat to beat the likes of you is the day I quit poker. Now get the hell out of here, before I quit being so merciful.”
Goustwhite slowly stood up. But before he could move Davis shot out his left hand and grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt. He pulled Goustwhite back a little and said, “Listen, Amos, when you get to the middle of the room I want you to sing out and announce to the crowd that you are a card cheat. You don’t, I’m liable to break your other damn arm.”
