Louisiana Laydown

leaving his tongue with a charcoal-honey taste he liked. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Call me Skye or Fargo. I’m not much of a ‘mister.’ ”

Parker laughed, sipping on his own drink. “Fargo, then,” he said.

On deck, a loud whistle announced that the boat was leaving and beginning its journey downriver. Both men sat quietly until the hubbub of last-minute noise died down a bit. “So, Fargo,” Parker said, “what takes you to New Orleans?”

“A break from the trail, mostly,” he replied. “I haven’t been there before, so I thought while I was flush, I’d wander down and see what there is to see.”

“A great deal, actually,” Parker said. “New Orleans is a growing city, and if you’ve a mind for entertainment —gambling, horse racing, women—all of those and more can be found in the various districts.”

Fargo chuckled. “It must be bursting at the seams. I’m not much of a city man—I prefer the open country— but I imagine it’s a sight.”

“Indeed it is,” Parker replied. He took another long sip of his whiskey, then said, “What do you do for a living, Fargo?”

“I’ve done a lot of things,” he replied. “Worked cattle, played lawman in a few small towns when the need was there—whatever needed doing when and where I could make an honest living.” Fargo nodded toward the poker table. “I can’t stand a dishonest man or a cheat.”

“Then perhaps I can interest you in some work while you’re seeing the sights,” Parker said. “Based on what I saw earlier, you’re just the man for the job.”

Fargo pondered this a moment. He didn’t really need work or money, but if he could earn some extra funds, it couldn’t hurt to hear the man out. “I’m not really looking for anything right now,” he said. “But what do you have in mind?”

Parker reached into his coat and removed a tattered book, holding it up for Fargo’s inspection. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

Fargo looked at it and shook his head. “Not offhand, ” he said.

“They call it a ‘blue book,’ ” Parker said. “Ever heard of one?”

“No,” he said. “What’s a blue book?”

Parker handed it to him. “It’s a directory of sorts. A handful of the major cities in the eastern half of the country have them. It tells people where the more worldly entertainments are located.”

“Worldly entertainments?” Fargo asked. “You mean whores?”

Parker chuckled. “Yes, though the blue book mostly advertises for the more upscale bordellos.”

Fargo shrugged. City people were strange. “What’s this got to do with me?” he asked.

“One of the better-known establishments in the city is run by a madam, Hattie Hamilton, who is an acquaintance of mine,” Parker said. “I visit her establishment from time to time—it’s a fine place—but my main interest is in the poker games held in the private salon.”

“And?” Fargo said.

“And,” Parker continued, “there is a very high-stakes game this next week. The pot will be worth in excess of fifty thousand dollars.”

Fargo whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Indeed,” Parker said. “And that’s where you come in, Fargo. I want you to attend the game, watch for any shenanigans like those you noted earlier, and keep the peace. Tempers can flare with that much money on the line.”

“I imagine so,” he said, considering. “Who all is playing in this game? Not a lot of people—even in a city as large as New Orleans—can have that much money to throw around.”

Parker chuckled. “You might be surprised, Fargo, but to answer your question, myself, a couple of very wealthy plantation owners, a saloon owner named Tom Anderson and a man named Richard Beares, who is—like myself—in politics.”

“You’re a politician?”

“A state senator,” Parker said. “So is Beares.”

Fargo looked at the man shrewdly. “You didn’t make your money in politics,” he said. “How’d you get so well-heeled?”

Parker nodded. “You call it as you see it, don’t you, Fargo?”

“It’s the only way I know how,” he said.

“I made most of my money in shipping,” he said. “Mostly cotton and other agricultural commodities. Does the job interest you?”

Fargo took another sip of the whiskey. “How long will this game last?” he asked.

“One night,” Parker said. “Perhaps two at the most. We only have five other players and myself.”

“And how much are you going to pay me?”

“That depends,” Parker said. “If I lose, I’ll pay you one thousand dollars in cash per night. That’s a lot of money, I suspect, for someone who has mostly made his living punching cows and chasing down wanted criminals.”

“And if you win?” Fargo asked.

“Five thousand dollars,” Parker said evenly. “A quite substantial sum of money for someone of your station.”

Despite the man’s tone, Fargo considered the offer. There was more here than Parker was saying—a lot more, in fact. But the only way he could find out what was really going on was to be there. The other man at their poker game earlier may have been a cheat, but Fargo suspected that the real professional was Parker. He felt like a politician, a man who made deals for other people’s lives. He wondered if Parker was the sort of man who played by the house rules or played by his own rules. He suspected the latter.

Fargo shook his head. “It’s a tempting offer,” he said. “But there’s more going on here than a simple poker game. What aren’t you telling me, Parker?”

Draining his glass, Parker grinned. “You’re an observant man, Fargo. I’ll grant you that. Of course there’s more to this than a simple poker game. No one plays for these kinds of stakes unless there are more significant issues on the table than money.” He refilled his glass, considered the amber liquid. “Senator Beares has been moving into territory that doesn’t belong to him. He’s built himself a little niche empire and I plan to take it from him—starting with this poker game.”

“What if he beats you?” Fargo asked.

Parker laughed. “He won’t beat me, Fargo. Unless he cheats. And that’s why I want you there. The man is a notorious crook.”

“And what are you notorious for?”

“Oh, I’m a notorious crook, too,” Parker admitted, waving his hand in dismissal. “But the difference, Fargo, is that I treat my people well and play by the rules of our society—even if that society happens to be one that lives beneath the surface of the rest of the country. Do you want the job or not?”

“I’ll do the job,” Fargo said, “for twenty-five hundred if you lose, up to three nights. If you win, I want ten thousand.”

“You’re greedy, Fargo. That’s an enormous sum of money!”

“For someone like me, yes it is. Enough to start my own ranch or live out my days on a Mexican hacienda if I want to.” Fargo shrugged. “But for someone like you—someone willing to risk that much just to put another man in his place—that’s not very much money at all, is it?”

Parker looked Fargo over and nodded. “My final offer,” he said. “I’ll agree to the twenty-five hundred amount, but if I win, you get seventy-five hundred, and not a penny more.”

Fargo knew that by negotiating, he’d shown Parker that he wouldn’t just do as he was told—though Parker appeared shrewd enough to know that anyway. “Done,” Fargo said. “Half of the twenty-five hundred in advance, the balance due when the game is over.”

“Agreed,” Parker said, reaching into his coat and removing his wallet. He took out a large stack of bills and counted out the sum discreetly, then passed the money to Fargo. “One last thing,” he added. “Remember to keep that Colt of yours handy and try not to be distracted by the women of the house. During the game, I’d rather have you thinking with the gun on your belt, and not the one in your pants.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Fargo said.