Texas by the Tail

brain damage. Come in a little closer, look a brief distance into the future, and observe. Note the lowered trousers, the reddish stains on his shorts. Note the hard-rubber dosing gun, filled with that ol' reliable remedy. (See our ads in your neighborhood toilet.) Note the downward thrust of the plunger, the shrill suddenly stifled scream as the stuff hits his cerebrum. That liverish-looking object that plopped to the floor is his tongue. Must these kids always bite their tongues in two! Well, half a tongue is better than none, right? Ha, ha. Anyway, why does a guy need a tongue when he's drowning in his own blood?

Zearsdale gestured and the three fell back behind Mitch; poised, ready to pounce at another gesture. Red was recovering fast from her fear, and her eyes were icy as the oil man gave her a smile of apology.

'I'm sorry if I was a little rough a moment ago, Miss Red. These movies I was about to show, well, I thought you should see them. But if you'd really rather not-'

'She would rather not,' Mitch said. 'They're pictures of the dice game our host and I had the other night, Red. I think he feels there was something wrong with the game.'

'Does he now?' Red said. 'And just what does he think he's going to do about it?'

Zearsdale obviously didn't like her tone. But with what was patently an effort, he managed a fatherly smile. 'I understand your feelings. You're far more a victim of this man than I am. I know, of course, that you're not his sister.'

'So you know I'm not his sister,' Red said. 'What about it?'

'Child, child…' He shook his head gravely. 'He's led you to believe that he's going to marry you, hasn't he? He's promised to marry you. But what you don't know is that he's already married. I've gone to a great deal of trouble to find out about this man, and-'

'Why?'

'Why? Well, I, uh-'

'Why?' Red repeated. 'Who asked you to? What business is it of yours? Who do you think you are, anyway?'

'He thinks he's God,' Mitch said. 'He told me so himself.'

Zearsdale flushed angrily. He said they would do well to shut up, and Red told him to shut up himself.

'I mean it, doggone you! I know Mitch is married and I know he's getting unmarried, and as soon as he does he's marrying me. Oh, yes, you are, darling!' She gave him a dazzling smile. 'I was angry enough to kill you when I found out. I went out to the airport tonight, swearing that I was going to kill you. But your plane was late, and I began to get frightened and worried about you, and-and-'

She turned back to Zearsdale, eyes sparkling with tears.

'Don't you tell me anything about Mitch! He didn't know he was married when he met me. When he found out, he couldn't tell me, because I would have been hurt and he loved me and wanted to protect me, and- an'-Never mind. Never mind. It's n-none of your business, you big ape!'

She broke off sniffling. Mitch swallowed lumpily, and for a moment he would have given both of his arms just to have them around her. Now, everything fell into place, and he knew why she had been so strained and awkward with him, why she had wanted to be around others for a while before facing him alone. The crisis in their relationship had given her a new and mature insight, and she had needed time to adjust to the unexpected depths she had found within herself. Also, doubtless, she had wanted to dispose of-

'I'm afraid I was mistaken about you,' Zearsdale frowned at her. 'You seem to be just about as bad as Corley is.'

'Oh, shut up! You just hush,' said Red.

'Yes, just as bad,' Zearsdale nodded grimly. 'So you'll have to suffer as he-Stop that, Corley! Don't snap your fingers when I'm talking!'

'I need a light.' Mitch held up a cigarette. 'Tell one of your apostles to give me one.'

Zearsdale motioned curtly, and one of the mugs thrust a light at Mitch.

Mitch grabbed his wrist, yanked him forward, then swung him backward, simultaneously kicking over his chair as he lunged to his feet.

The thrown guy and another went down in a tangle. The third came in swinging. Mitch ducked inside the flailing arms, brought his head up sharply. There was a messy crunching sound and the guy's chin almost met his nose, and he went down to the floor in a heap. But now the other two were up, were weaving in with blood in their eyes. Mitch sprang squarely between them, his arms outflung.

Their arms whipped around their necks. Locked. Contracted. Their heads smashed together and they wobbled dazedly, then suddenly sat down as he kicked their legs from under them.

'Mitch! Take it, honey…' Red was holding a small gun out to him, the gun she had thought she was going to shoot him with.

Mitch took it, and swung coldly on Zearsdale. 'All right,' he snapped. 'You claim I cheated you. No ifs, ands and buts about it, I rooked you, so you get these punks out here to give Red and me a hard time. Now I want to know just why you think you were cheated.'

The oil man was staring at the three beaten hoods. He turned to Mitch, a curious expression in his deep-set eyes.

'Where did you learn to fight like that, Corley? I thought I was the only person who knew how.'

'In hotel locker-rooms mostly. I used to be a bellboy.'

'That's very interesting. I'll bet you were a very good bellboy, weren't you?'

Mitch began to get angry all over again. Three minutes ago, this character was going to have him worked over and now he wanted to make conversation.

'Let's stick to the subject,' he said, curtly. 'You say I'm a cheat. I say I win because I'm good, because I go into a game with a big edge; an edge I've gotten through training and experience. Any man who wants to be in the big time has to have one. You have, obviously. When was the last time you went into a business deal without a better than even chance of winning?'

'What?' Zearsdale'e eyes had strayed to the hoodlums again. 'Oh, come now, Corley. You're a professional gambler. You can make the dice do anything you want them to.'

'Can I? Can I always do it? Then why is it that you broke me the night we played?'

'Well-But you came out winner.'

'But you broke me,' Mitch insisted. 'You took me right down the line, and I was all ready to tell you good night and leave. That's what I meant to do, what I've done many times before when I went broke. But you wouldn't have it that way. You forced a loan on me to keep the game going. Well, isn't that right or not? You won and you have no one to blame but yourself for not staying winner.'

'Well.' Zearsdale wet his lips hesitantly. 'That was purely a come-on. You lost deliberately.'

'Oh, for God's sake! I was doing my damnedest to win, and those movies must have shown that I was! Why would I deliberately throw to you, anyway? To get you in another game? How do I know I can do it? What's the percentage in it? Why not take you in the game that I have?'

He waited, frowning. Zearsdale shrugged.

'Whatever you say. I'm hardly in a position to argue about it.'

'Why not?' Mitch looked down at the gun. 'You mean because of this? Well, we'll fix that right now.' He walked over to the oil man, slapped the gun into his hand and stepped back. 'Now, argue all you damned please. Or do you want these punks to sit on me before you begin?'

Zearsdale looked a little stunned. He hesitated, then nodded to the three. 'All right, I won't need you anymore.' They sidled out the door, keeping a wary eye on Mitch, and he shook his head bemusedly.

'Corley… Mr. Corley, I-I hardly know what to say. I seldom make a mistake about a man,