Chapter III
The Old-Timer Sits into a Big Game
The room into which Dingwell had stepped was as large as a publicdance-hall. Scattered in one part or another of it, singly or ingroups, were fifty or sixty men. In front, to the right, was the bar,where some cowmen and prospectors were lined up before a counter uponwhich were bottles and glasses. A bartender in a white linen jacketwas polishing the walnut top with a cloth.
Dave shook his head in answer to the invitation to drink that came tohim at once. Casually he chatted with acquaintances as he worked hisway toward the rear. This part of the room was a gambling resort.Among the various methods of separating the prodigal from his moneywere roulette, faro, keno, chuckaluck, and poker tables. Around thesea motley assemblage was gathered. Rich cattlemen brushed shoulderswith the outlaws who were rustling their calves. Mexicans without anickel stood side by side with Eastern consumptives out for theirhealth. Chinese laundrymen played the wheel beside miners andcowpunchers. Stolid, wooden-faced Indians in blankets from thereservation watched the turbid life of the Southwest as it eddiedaround them. The new West was jostling the old West into thebackground, but here the vivid life of the frontier was making its laststand.
By the time that Dave had made a tour of two thirds of the room he knewthat Sheriff Sweeney was not among those present. His inquiriesbrought out the fact that he must have just left. Dingwell saunteredtoward the door, intending to follow him, but what he saw there changedhis mind. Buck Rutherford and Slim Sanders were lounging together atone end of the bar. It took no detective to understand that they werewatching the door. A glance to the rear showed Dave two moreRutherfords at the back exit. That he would have company in case heleft was a safe guess.
The cattleman chuckled. The little devils of mischief alreadymentioned danced in his eyes. If they were waiting for him to go, hewould see that they had a long session of it. Dave was in no hurry.The night was young yet, and in any case the Legal Tender never closed.The key had been thrown away ten years before. He could sit it out aslong as the Rutherfords could.
Dingwell was confident no move would be made against him in public.The sentiment of the community had developed since that distant daywhen the Rutherford gang had shot down Jack Beaudry in open daylight.Deviltry had to be done under cover now. Moreover, Dave was in thepeculiar situation of advantage that the outlaws could not kill himuntil they knew where he had hidden the gold. So far as theRutherfords went, he was just now the goose that laid the golden egg.
He stood chatting with another cattleman for a few moments, thendrifted back to the rear of the hall again. Underneath an elk's headwith magnificent antlers a party sat around a table playing draw pokerwith a skinned deck. Two of them were wall-eyed strangers whomDingwell guessed to be professional tinhorns. Another ran a curiostore in town. The fourth was Dan Meldrum, one of the toughest crooksin the county. Nineteen years ago Sheriff Beaudry had sent him to thepenitentiary for rustling calves. The fifth player sat next to thewall. He was a large, broad-shouldered man close to fifty. His facehad the weather-beaten look of confidence that comes to an outdoorWesterner used to leading others.
While Dave was moving past this table, he noticed that Chet Fox waswhispering in the ear of the man next the wall. The poker-playernodded, and at the same moment his glance met that of Dingwell. Thegray eyes of the big fellow narrowed and grew chill. Fox, starting tomove away, recognized the cattleman from whom he had escaped half anhour before. Taken by surprise, the little spy looked guilty as anurchin caught stealing apples.
It took no clairvoyant to divine what the subject of that whisperedcolloquy had been. The cheerful grin of Dave included impartially Fox,Meldrum, and the player beneath the elk's head.
The ex-convict spoke first. "Come back to sit in our game, Dave?" hejeered.
Dingwell understood that this was a challenge. It was impossible tolook on the ugly, lupine face of the man, marked by the ravages offorty years of vice and unbridled passion, without knowing that he wasready for trouble now. But Meldrum was a mere detail of a situationpiquant enough even for so light-hearted a son of the Rockies as thiscattleman. Dave had already invited himself into a far bigger game ofthe Rutherford clan than this. Moreover, just now he was so far aheadthat he had cleared the table of all the stakes. Meldrum knew this.So did Hal Rutherford, the big man sitting next the wall. What wouldbe their next move? Perhaps if he joined them he would find out. Thiscourse held its dangers, but long experience had taught him that towalk through besetting perils was less risk than to run from them.
"If that's an invitation, Dan, you're on," he answered gayly. "Just aminute, and I'll join you. I want to send a message to Sweeney."
Without even looking at Meldrum to see the effect of this, Davebeckoned a Mexican standing near. "Tell the sheriff I want to see himhere _pronto_. You win a dollar if he is back within an hour."
The Mexican disappeared. Fox followed him.
The cattleman drew in his chair and was introduced to the twostrangers. The quick, searching look he gave each confirmed his firstimpression. These men were professional gamblers. It occurred to himthat they had made a singularly poor choice of victims in Dan Meldrumand Hal Rutherford. Either of them would reach for his gun at thefirst evidence of crooked play.
No man in Battle Butte was a better poker psychologist than Dingwell,but to-night cards did not interest him. He was playing a bigger game.His subconscious mind was alert for developments. Since only hissurface attention was given to poker he played close.
While Rutherford dealt the cards he talked at Dave. "So you'reexpecting Sweeney, are you? Been having trouble with any one?"
"Or expect to have any?" interjected Meldrum, insolence in his shiftypig eyes.
"No, not looking for any," answered Dingwell amiably. "Fact is, I wasprospecting around Lonesome Park and found a gold mine. Looks good, soI thought I'd tell Sweeney about it. . . . Up to me? I've gotopeners." He pushed chips to the center of the table.
Rutherford also pushed chips forward. "I'll trail along. . . . Yougot an idea of taking in Sweeney as a partner? I'm looking for a goodinvestment. _It would pay you to take me in rather than Sweeney_."
Three of those at the table accepted this talk at its face value. Theydid not sense the tension underneath the apparently casualgive-and-take. Two of them stayed and called for cards. But Daveunderstood that he had been offered a compromise. Rutherford hadproposed to divide the gold stolen from the express car, and theproffer carried with it a threat in case of refusal.
"Two when you get to me. . . . No, I reckon I'll stick to the sheriff.I've kinda arranged the deal."
As Rutherford slid two cards across to him the eyes of the men met."Call it off. Sweeney is not the kind of a partner to stay with you tothe finish if your luck turns bad. When I give my word I go through."
Dingwell looked at his cards. "Check to the pat hand. . . . Point is,Hal, that I don't expect my luck to turn bad."
"Hmp! Go in with Sweeney and you'll have bad luck all right. _I'llpromise you that_. Better talk this over with me and put a dealthrough." He rapped on the table to show that he too passed withoutbetting.
The curio dealer checked and entered a mild protest. "Is this a pokergame or a conversazione, gentlemen? It's stuck with Meldrum. I reckonhe's off in Lonesome Park gold-mining the way he's been listening."
Meldrum brought his attention back to the game and bet his pat hand.Dave called. After a moment's hesitation Rutherford threw down hiscards.
"There's such a thing as pushing your luck too far," he commented."Now, take old man Crawford. He was mightily tickled when his brotherJim left him the Frying Pan Ranch. But that wasn't good enough as itstood. He had to try to better it by marrying the Swede hash-slingerfrom Los Angeles. Later she fed him arsenic in his coffee. A man's afool to overplay his luck."
At the showdown Meldrum disclosed a four-card flush and the cattlemanthree jacks.
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As Dave raked in the pot he answered Rutherford casually. "Still, hehadn't ought to underplay it either. The other fellow may be out on alimb."
"Say, is it any of your business how I play my cards?" demandedMeldrum, thrusting his chin toward Dingwell.
"Absolutely none," replied Dave evenly.
"Cut that out, Dan," ordered Rutherford curtly.
The ex-convict mumbled something into his beard, but subsided.
Two hours had slipped away before Dingwell commented on the fact thatthe sheriff had not arrived. He did not voice his suspicion that theMexican had been intercepted by the Rutherfords.
"Looks like Sweeney didn't get my message," he said lazily. "You nevercan tell when a Mexican is going to get too tired to travel farther."
"Better hook up with me on that gold-mine proposition, Dave," HalRutherford suggested again.
"No, I reckon not, Hal. Much obliged, just the same."
Dave began to watch the game more closely. There were points about itworth noticing. For one thing, the two strangers had a habit ofgetting the others into a pot and cross-raising them exasperatingly.If Dave had kept even, it was only because he refused to be drawn intoinviting pots when either of the strangers was dealing. He observedthat though they claimed not to have met each other before there wasteam work in their play. Moreover, the yellow and blue chips weremostly piled up in front of them, while Meldrum, Rutherford, and thecurio dealer had all bought several times. Dave waited until hisdoubts of crooked work became certainty before he moved.
"The game's framed. Blair has rung in a cold deck on us. He and Smithare playing in cahoots."
Dingwell had risen. His hands rested on the table as an assurance thathe did not mean to back up his charge with a gunplay unless it becamenecessary.
The man who called himself Blair wasted no words in denial. His righthand slid toward his hip pocket. Simultaneously the fingers of Dave'sleft hand knotted to a fist, his arm jolted forward, and the bonyknuckles collided with the jaw of the tinhorn. The body of thecattleman had not moved. There seemed no special effort in the blow,but Blair went backward in his chair heels over head. The man writhedon the floor, turned over, and lay still.
From the moment that he had launched his blow Dave wasted no moreattention on Blair. His eyes fastened upon Smith. The man made amotion to rise.
"Don't you," advised the cattleman gently. "Not till I say so, Mr.Smith. There's no manner of hurry a-tall. Meldrum, see what he's gotin his right-hand pocket. Better not object, Smith, unless you want toride at your own funeral."
Meldrum drew from the man's pocket a pack of cards.
"I thought so. They've been switching decks on us. The one we'replaying with is marked. Run your finger over the ace of clubs there,Hal. . . . How about it?"
"Pin-pricked," announced Rutherford. "And they've garnered in most ofthe chips. What do you think?"
"That I'll beat both their heads off," cut in Meldrum, purple with rage.
"Not necessary, Dan," vetoed Dingwell. "We'll shear the wolves. Eachof you help yourself to chips equal to the amount you have lost. . . .Now, Mr. Smith, you and your partner will dig up one hundred andninety-three dollars for these gentlemen."
"Why?" sputtered Smith. "It's all a frame-up. We've been playing astraight game. But say we haven't. They have got their chips back.Let them cash in to the house. What more do you want?"
"One hundred and ninety-three dollars. I thought I mentioned thatalready. You tried to rob these men of that amount, but you didn't getaway with it. Now you'll rob yourself of just the same sum. Friskyourself, Mr. Smith."
"Not on your life I won't. It. . . it's an outrage. It's robbery.I'll not stand for it." His words were brave, but the voice of the manquavered. The bulbous, fishy eyes of the cheat wavered before theimplacable ones of the cattleman.
"Come through."
The gambler's gaze passed around the table and found no help from themen he had been robbing. A crowd was beginning to gather. Swiftly hedecided to pay forfeit and get out while there was still time. He drewa roll of bills from his pocket and with trembling fingers counted outthe sum named. He shoved it across the table and rose.
"Now, take your friend and both of you hit the trail out of town,"ordered the cattleman.
Blair had by this time got to his feet and was leaning stupidly on achair. His companion helped him from the room. At the door he turnedand glared at Dingwell.
"You're going to pay for this--and pay big," he spat out, his voiceshaking with rage.
"Oh, that's all right," answered Dingwell easily.
The game broke up. Rutherford nodded a good-night to the cattleman andleft with Meldrum. Presently Dave noticed that Buck and the rest ofthe clan had also gone. Only Slim Sanders was left, and he was playingthe wheel.
"Time to hit the hay," Dave yawned.
The bartender called "Good-night" as Dingwell went out of the swingingdoors. He said afterward that he thought he heard the sound ofscuffling and smothered voices outside. But his interest in the matterdid not take him as far as the door to find out if anything was wrong.