Thompson laughed. “I’m just looking for some competition, is all. Makes the game a little more interesting.”
“I don’t mind an interesting game,” Butler said, “but I’m also trying to make a living here. Going against you while your luck is running isn’t exactly the way to do that.”
“You’re too smart for your own good,” Thompson said. “Anyway, it’s nice just to have you in the room, watching my back. And don’t worry, I’m watching yours, too.”
“Speaking of that…” Butler said, and he went on to tell Thompson about the curious man in the hall.
“Does this happen to you a lot?” the other man asked.
“Yes.”
Thompson put up a hand. “I won’t ask why. Just be assured I’ll be watching for a man matching that description. Apparently, at the moment, we’re the only two decent poker players in town. We’ve got to watch out for each other.”
“I heard Luke Short might be on his way here,” Butler offered.
“Well, that would be interesting.”
“Have you played with him before?”
“Luke and I have sat across from each other many times. In fact, I’ve pretty much played with every decent poker player in the West—now that I’ve played with you, I mean.”
“Ever play with a fellow named Three-Fingered Jack?”
“Well, since you said last night that you came here from Wichita, I suspect you mean Three-Eyed Jack. Hell, I thought Jack was dead. Is he still in Wichita?”
“Still there.”
“Did I pass the test?”
“Well…” Butler said, and let it drop.
“I’ve got to get back to my table,” Thompson said. “The beer is on me. If you feel like some stud later, just move on over.”
“I’ll do it, Ben.”
Thompson touched his hat and made his way back to his table, where he managed to sit down without knocking over the mountain of chips in front of him.
Butler went back to his own table and started building a mountain of his own.
Butler’s game broke up only after several hours, after he managed to take chips from everyone who sat in on the game. Given the option of moving to Ben Thompson’s stud game or to one of the other saloons in town, he opted for the shorter trip.
“About time,” Thompson said, when he sat down. “I’ve been waiting for some competition.”
Since he had built himself a nice stake from the other table, Butler decided to just sit back and enjoy the rest of the evening. He caught three aces in his first hand, which elicited groans from the other players who, up to now, only had Ben Thompson’s luck to contend with.
“Boys,” Thompson said, as Butler raked in the pot, “the price of poker has just gone up.”
For the next hour, chips went either to Butler or to Ben Thompson, at an even pace. Only the other players at the table were suffering losses, and, one by one, they busted out of the game. There were others watching, but they did not attempt to fill the empty seats. Off to one side Bill Harris watched with a big smile on his face. Having two quality poker players in the house was good for business. Even if the other patrons were just watching the action, they were drinking while they did it.
Finally, about two in the morning, Ben Thompson and Tyrone Butler were playing head to head. Each pot was in the hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars, but two evenly matched players competing head to head usually meant an even exchange of chips over a period of time. By three A.M. both men agreed to call a halt to the game.
“Unless…” Thompson said.
“Unless what?” Butler asked.
“You want to play one last hand, winner take all?”
“All?”
“Just what we have on the table,” Thompson said. “Not our wallets.”
Butler was willing. After all, he had bought in for two hundred when they started, and had been playing on that ever since. Now he had nearly five thousand dollars in front of him, and figured Ben Thompson for about the same.
“All right,” Butler said, and word spread quickly through the saloon that a winnertake-all hand was about to take place between Ben Thompson and the new gambler in town, Butler.
“We’re putting on a show for the sports,” Thompson said.
“I think we need an impartial dealer,” Butler said.
“I agree.”
Thompson looked around, located Bill Harris, and waved him over to the table.
“Bill, you got a lovely young lady here who can deal?”
“I got just the gal for you, Ben,” Harris said. He called one of the girls over. She came running up excitedly, thinking she was going to get to deal, but Harris said to her, “Go and get Trixie.”
As it turned out Trixie was the faro dealer Butler had been watching earlier in the night. She was tall, with long red hair and a creamy swell of freckled bosom rising out of her emerald green dress.
“Trixie, these gents would like you to deal one hand for them, winner take all.”
Trixie looked at the chips on the table and said, “That’s got to be ten thousand dollars, Bill.”
“Almost to the penny,” Butler said, impressed.
“Will you do it?” Harris asked her.
She smiled and said, “I’d be honored.”
CHAPTER 28
Trixie took her seat among a rustling of silk, gathered up the cards, and said to Harris, “May I have a new deck?”
Harris went to the bar and got a new deck from the bartender. Trixie opened it and expertly shuffled the cards while both Butler and Ben Thompson watched in admiration.
“All right, gents,” she said, “here we go.”
She dealt them each a card down and a card up. Butler got a king, while Thompson received an ace.
“Mr. Thompson’s bet,” she said, then corrected herself. “Oh, sorry, this is winner take all, right?”
“That’s correct,” Thompson said.
“Then I beg your pardon,” she said. “Next card.”
She dealt Thompson a deuce and Butler a three.
“Not much help there,” she announced. “Next card.”
Thompson got a five.
An eight to Butler.
“Not much developing here,” Trixie said. “Last card.”
Thompson got an ace, pairing him on the table. Butler got a pair also, receiving another eight.
“Pair of aces to a pair of eights,” Trixie said.
“Well, if we were betting, I guess I’d be betting my lungs,” Thompson said.
“And I’d be calling.”
“Would you, now?”
“Definitely.”
Thompson stared at Butler’s cards.
“How would you like to up the bet?”
