Robert J. Randisi
The Gamblers: Texas Bluff
CHAPTER 1
Butler had decided to try to hit every major gambling hall in Texas before he continued on his way to California. What he didn’t expect was that it would take him a year.
Upon leaving Colorado after an adventure in Denver with Bat Masterson and Doc Holliday he drifted for a while, stopping here and there along the way when he found a likely poker game. He worked his way down toward Texas, and when he heard about a saloon or a gambling hall that sounded interesting, that’s where he went.
Once he got to Texas he found himself playing poker in Jack Harris’s Saloon and Vaudeville Theater in San Antonio. This was after Harris had been killed by Ben Thompson, who went on trial for murder. Butler knew Thompson, but did not get to see him during that time.
Then he played for a while at the Iron Front in Austin, which was actually owned by Ben Thompson. But Thompson was still having trouble over the Harris thing, so once again Butler did not get to see him.
In El Paso he won quite a bit of money in Ben Dowell’s Saloon. This was after Dowell had died on his ranch, just outside of town.
The reason Butler remembered these three stopovers more than others was that, in addition to doing well in all three saloons, there was an attempt on his life in all three places. Obviously, the price put on his head by someone back East was still enforced. He’d thwarted dozens of attempts on his life over the years, and he remembered every one of them.
Approximately one year after the events in Denver, Butler rode into Fort Worth, Texas. He checked into a hotel down the street from the White Elephant Saloon, which was his ultimate goal. This would be his last Texas stop before he finally continued on his way to California.
He chose the hotel because it was large, had its own livery stable and a doorman in front. In other words, it reeked of luxury. He’d been doing so well at the tables lately that he decided to treat himself.
Butler was no stranger to luxury. Growing up in the East, his family had been well off. Later, when he was exiled to the West and started to make his living playing poker, he would treat himself whenever he was flush. And the better he became, the more often he was flush.
His room was a two-room suite. The bedroom had a large bed with a thick mattress, and not only a dresser for his clothes but a wardrobe to hang his suits in.
The outer room was set up like a living room or sitting room, complete with plush armchair and sofa and a small sidebar with decanters for various types of liquor. The furnishings were maroon and gold, very rich feeling. He approved of his new digs, which was important, because he planned to be there for a while. He’d learned the word
After a bath he put on a clean black suit, a boiled white shirt, and a black string tie. He did not wear jewelry, probably never would, no matter how much money he had. He looked at gamblers who wore diamond cuff links and stickpins and thought they were too flashy, like tinhorns. The last thing he put on was his flat-crowned black hat with a silver band and a three-and-a-half-inch brim.
He was ready to check out the White Elephant Saloon.
Luke Short was the new one-third owner of the White Elephant. His partner, Bill Ward, had been determined to change the image of the White Elephant, to hopefully bring in some big-name gamblers. For that he needed a partner who knew some big-name gamblers. When he met Luke Short he was sure he’d found his man.
Short’s first move was to change the physical image of the saloon. He had the public area decorated with fancy rosewood and mahogany fixtures that he had brought in from back East. He also brought in something that became known as the “Luke Short Bar.” It was mahogany, made in three pieces, and covered most of one wall of the saloon. He added onyx and crystal to the decor, immediately giving the place a touch of class. The last thing he did was to introduce the game of keno to Fort Worth, which caught fire and added substantially to the saloon’s profit margin.
“Little Luke” had placed his personal stamp on the White Elephant and—just as Bill Ward had hoped—the big-name gamblers began to come.
CHAPTER 2
Butler was impressed with the White Elephant Saloon as soon as he entered. It was easily the largest gaming hall he’d ever been in, and it apparently had some other, private, rooms where—more than likely—its high- stakes games took place.
Butler had heard that famed gambler Luke Short was now part owner of the White Elephant. He knew that Short was good friends with both Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp, two legendary lawmen and gamblers who had become his friends over the past couple of years. Both of those men admitted that Luke Short was probably a better man with a deck of cards than either of them was. Butler was looking forward to meeting the man he’d heard so much about.
He approached the vast bar and easily found a place for himself, even though the saloon was buzzing with activity.
He ordered a beer, and when it came the mug was frosty, almost too cold to pick up.
“Is this place always this busy?” he asked the bartender.
“You ain’t never been in here before, have you?” the man asked.
“No,” Butler said. “I just got to town.”
“The answer is yes,” the bartender said. “It is always this busy in here.”
“I heard you have private rooms.”
“We’ve got lots of rooms,” the man said. “The owners live upstairs, and Mr. Short has a special room for high-stakes poker games.”
“Ah,” Ty Butler said, “that’s the one I’m interested in.”
“I thought you had the look of a gambler when you walked in,” the bartender said, “but people only get to play in that game by invitation.”
“And how do I get invited?”
“Do you know Mr. Short?”
“No, but—”
“What’s your name?”
“Butler.”
The man shook his head.
“I don’t know the name” he said, “so you ain’t famous.”
“No,” Butler agreed, “I’m not famous.”
“Then you ain’t gettin’ invited,” the man said. “Not unless you do something to get yerself noticed by Mr.
