“Ruben’s going with us to town again tonight James.”
“Again Stu? Why? All he did last week was just sit there at the bar and sip the same beer all night long while he watched us lose all our money to that gambler Spieler.”
“He didn’t say. He just said he wanted to go, that’s all.”
“Well he doesn’t say much period, that’s for damn sure. You know I asked him last week right after the boss hired him where he was from and what he did before he came here and I never did get an answer from him. Hell Ruben Swanson might not even be his real name. You know Stu, I got me a funny feeling about him. Something just ain’t right about that man.”
Just then baby-faced, twenty something, blonde hair, blue eyed Ruben Swanson, average in height and weight, generic in looks, still in his work clothes, still with cow manure on his boots, entered the bunkhouse.
“You going like that?” Stu asked him.
He and James had gotten cleaned up and were wearing their dress up go to town Saturday night duds. Both had strapped on their gun belts. Stu wore two guns, James only one. After all, they were going to the Sure Shot Saloon. They had to make an impression.
Ruben on the other hand looked like he had just come straight from mucking out the dairy barn, which he had, and he was unarmed.
“Well, are you?”
“Packed and ready,” answered Ruben.
Stu looked at James nonplussed. James looked at Stu and shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay let’s go then,” said James.
Not a word was exchanged between the three of them the whole way they rode to town together though James wondered why Ruben had his packed saddle bags with him since they were just going out for a night of fun. But he kept his mouth shut since he knew he wouldn’t get an answer from him anyway. Stu never picked up on it.
Now all three of them sat at the bar in the Sure Shot Saloon and sipped their beers as they watched the poker game already in progress. The poker game featuring Slick Spieler, a professional gambler, who had just blown into town last week with the hot Texas summer wind. He was a slick one alright, slick for the way he fancily dressed himself, slick for the way he haughtily carried himself, slick for his trademark slicked back coal black hair and pencil thin mustache, and most of all of course, slick for his sleight of hand that no one could ever catch him at. He was the Sure Shot Saloon’s new main attraction, good for business, drawing a larger crowd than the can can girls ever did.
There was a certain organized madness to the man. First he only played five card draw. Second he only let three other players at a time at the table with him. And third he would go about eliminating each player one at a time, until all the chairs were empty before he called for the next batch of fools to join him. From the look on his face it seemed as if he enjoyed every second of it, relishing in this process of eliminating his opponents. So things progressed as usual that evening and soon only Slick Spieler was left at the table. He looked at the bar and recognized James and Stu from last week, gave Ruben a cursory once over, extended his right hand, and with cupped fingers motioned for them to come join him.
“Come on you two. Who knows you might just get lucky this time. You too Hayseed.”
One look was all it took. Stu and James just had to take one more shot at getting their money back that they had lost last week. They chugged their beers and like flies drawn to honey buzzed over to join him, James plopping himself down to the right of him, Stu to the left. Then to the surprise of James and Stu, Ruben left his untouched beer at the bar and took the third chair directly across from Spieler.
“Well Hayseed you sure you’re up for this,” taunted Spieler as he leaned across the table over to Ruben and pulled a piece of hay from his hair that he had palmed in his hand. Spieler stuck it in his mouth and began chewing on it. “Well?”
“HIs name’s Ruben,” volunteered Stu.
“And he don’t talk much,” added James.
“Fine by me boys we’re here to play cards anyway not to have an intellectual conversation.”
The game began and as usual Spieler let James and Stu win a little at first to get them to build up their confidence. He knew from last week that they’d be an easy kill. And as to the hick Ruben he would take him out last. He’d be easy pickings.
Stu was the first to go down and not long thereafter James. As James slid back his chair and was about to get up, Ruben grabbed his sleeve, pulled him to him, and whispered into his ear.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him. I’ll fix it so that when I’m through with him, he’ll never deal again.”
James pulled his head back, furrowed his brow, and gave Ruben a puzzled quizzical look. Taken back by what Ruben had just said, he didn’t know what to make of it as he got up, went over to, and joined Stu at the bar who was gulping down Ruben’s warm untouched beer. Stu was one who just couldn’t let an untouched beer go to waste.
“What did he say to you?” asked Stu, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, and setting down the empty glass.
“That Spieler would never deal again after he was through with him.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know Stu but something ain’t right here. Like I said before there’s something strange about Ruben and I got me a weird funny feeling about this. We’re just gonna have to wait and see how this all plays out.”
The game resumed. Spieler let Ruben win the next three hands. It was Spieler’s turn to deal now and he was ready to move in for the kill. He dealt the cards. Ruben looked at his hand. He held an ace of spades, ace of hearts, nine, five, and a three. He bet five dollars. Spieler saw him and raised him ten. Ruben took out his billfold, matched it and raised him twenty. Spieler raised him back another twenty. Reuben matched it and called.
“Jesus, where in the hell did Ruben get all that money?” said Stu as he elbowed James in the ribs. “I thought he was broke when the boss hired him.”
“I did too.”
“How many Plowboy?”
Ruben held up three fingers. Spieler dealt him three cards. Ruben kept the pair of aces and threw away the other three.
“The dealer takes one.”
Everyone in the place had their eyes on Spieler as he dealt himself his one card hoping to catch him slipping himself a card either from the bottom of the deck or from up his proverbial sleeve. No one was paying any attention to Ruben though except for James.
Spieler faked a faint smile as he looked at his new card. The crowd picked up on it, followed his lead, and likewise smiled.
Reuben stared at his three new cards, a jack, an eight, and a third ace, only it was another ace of spades. He said nothing.
“You’re bet Hayseed.”
Ruben bet twenty dollars. Spieler matched it and raised him thirty. They kept on matching and raising each other until Spieler had bet every penny he had on him. As to Ruben though no one knew how much he still had left on him. But it was table stakes and since Spieler had staked all he had on the table, he called. It was time now for the two of them to show their cards.
Spiler laid down his hand first and spread out his cards.
“Two pair kings and queens with a jack kicker. Beat that munchkin farm boy.”
Ruben laid down his hand but didn’t spread it out like Spieler had. Instead he put them down in a fashion where one of the ace of spades covered up the other one so that only the A was showing in the upper left hand corner of the covered up card, hoping to pass it off as the ace of clubs. Ruben reached for the pot.
“Not so fast there country bumpkin,” said Speler, grabbing Ruben’s wrist. “You don’t have three aces there, clodhopper.”
Slick Spieler uncovered the covered up ace of spades. A communal gasp went up from the crowd silencing the room.
“Ya blew it gambler wannabe. You got the wrong sleeve. Your ace of clubs is still up your right sleeve. But you being left handed naturally went to your left and that’s where you screwed up. Forgot that the ace of spades was there, didn’t you?”
“You dealt me that card instead of the ace of diamonds which was the next card due up. That way you could accuse me of cheating since I would have beaten you with three aces.”
Then before Spieler could respond, Ruben reached across the table and uncovered the top card on the deck sitting before him. It was the ace of diamonds. The crowd did its second communal gasp double take.
“Well there’s only one way to settle this then isn’t there.”
Stu jumped up from his bar stool and shouted out, “He’s not even packing.”
“He is now,” said James, getting up, and starting to take off his gun belt.
“James what in the hell are you doing? Spieler’s been in a couple of gun fights. He’s still standing in case you hadn’t noticed. Ruben ain’t got a snowball’s chance. He couldn’t outdraw him and even if he did, he couldn’t hit a barn wall from inside the barn. This is on you James, not me if something goes wrong.”
James offered his gun belt to Ruben.
Ruben shook his head no.
“Thank God someone has some sense around here,” said Stu with a sigh of relief.
Then Ruben pointed to Stu’s gun belt and James knew why.
“He wants your guns Stu. He’s left handed. My pistol is on the right. You got two guns. Give it to him.”
Stu looked at Ruben and could tell from the pleading look in his eyes that he really really wanted his gun belt.
“Tell ya what kid,” said Spieler, “just to make it fair, I’ll let you make the first move before I kill you. That way it’ll be self defense.”
Stu hated Speiler with a vengeance having lost all his last two weeks wages to him and that taunt of his to Ruben pushed Stu over the edge. He gave Ruben his gun belt.
“This is on your conscience now Stu, not mine,” said James strapping back on his gun.
“Thanks a lot James. Thanks a lot.”
James took Stu aside and whispered in his ear, “Trust me Stu. I got me a hunch as to what’s really going on here.”
“Ya mean like those hunches you got in the poker game.”
Ruben strapped on Stu’s gun as Spieler checked his over. Then they both stepped over to the center of the saloon as the patrons scurried for cover.
“I’m going to get the Sheriff,” said Stu.
“It’s midnight Stu. He lives clear on the other side of town. He’s asleep. He ain’t on duty just that dumb deputy of his and he won’t do anything anyway until it’s all over.”
“Well I’m getting him just the same and Doc Brady too,” countered Stu as he ran out the door.
The two participant’s squared off about fifteen paces between them.
Untrue to his word, Spieler made the first move. But Ruben beat him to the first shot, firing while his gun was still in the holster, the barrel protruding out the bottom of the holster. That plus the left side gun was why Ruben wanted Stu’s gunbelt not James’s. He had shot straight forward from the hip and shot the gun out of Spieler’s right hand along with blowing off Spieler’s thumb, index finger, middle finger, and a good size portion of his wrist. Spieler’s wrist dangled there and he grabbed it with his left hand, fearing it would fall off, and cradled it to his chest.
Just then Stu, the deputy, and Doc Brady rushed in.
Doc Brady went over to Spieler, pulled back his right hand, looked it over, scrunched up his face, sucked in some air through his teeth, and shook his head side to side.
Someone handed him Spieler’s thumb, index and middle finger.
One look was all it took. “I can’t sew these back on. There’s nothing left to sew. Same goes for the wrist. I can’t sow it back on either. The tendons have been severed. What’s left is going to have to come off.”
He led the stunned Spieler out the door and back to his office. The deputy followed him.
Stu ran over to Ruben, grabbed his hand, and shook it vigorously. “Congratulations. You’re one lucky fella Ruben. He beat you to the draw but you got the first shot off.”
“There was no luck to it Stu,” piped up James.
“Huh?”
“Think about it Stu.”
“Think about what?”
Ruben went over to the table, counted out what Stu and James had each lost and handed it to them. He pocketed the rest.
They both thanked him.
“Say Stu, why don’t you go get yourself a beer. I need to talk to Ruben for a minute and then I’ll join you.”
“Sure James sure.”
Stu left for the bar.
“Pretty clever of you Ruben whoever you are,” said James. “How long had you been after him before you finally got your payback here tonight?”
“A while.”
“Well since I see that you’ve already got your saddlebags packed and are ready to go, I reckon you’ll be moving on now won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well I bid you adieu mon ami.”
Exit one Ruben Swanson aka whoever he was.
James went to the bar and joined Stu.
“I just figured it out, James.”
“Figured it out what Stu?”
“Figured out what Ruben meant when he said that Spieler would be done dealing when he was through with him. This was all planned out wasn’t it?”
“Ya know Stu I do believe there’s hope for you after all.”
Author is a retired attorney now living in Texas.