“What’s your name?” one of the cardplayers asked.
“I’m called Pearlie.”
“Pearlie?” the player replied. He chuckled. “Well, that’s not a name you hear every day, but then, I don’t have room to talk. My given name is Carroll Patterson, and when folks hear it, they think it’s a woman’s name. But I’m a veterinarian now, so most folks call me Doc.”
Doc pointed to the other two players in the game. “That fella is the newspaper editor—his name is Elmer Brandon, and the young one there is Billy Ray Quentin.”
“Glad to meet you,” Pearlie said. He shook hands with Doc and Brandon, but when he reached across the table to Billy Ray, Billy Ray pointedly began shuffling cards.
“You got ’ny money, Pearlie?” Billy Ray asked. “I don’t intend to waste my time with some saddle bum who can’t afford to play.”
“Billy Ray, that’s no way to greet a stranger,” Brandon said.
“This isn’t some welcoming cotillion,” Billy Ray said. “I asked you if you have any money.”
“I’ve got enough for a few hands, I suppose,” Pearlie replied, sizing up the unpleasant young man.
Extending his leg under the table, Billy Ray kicked the chair out. “All right, you can play till you run out of money. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t pay Billy Ray any mind,” Doc said. “He just got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
“Hell, Doc, what makes you think Billy Ray’s bed has a right side?” Brandon asked, and those close enough to overhear the conversation laughed.
“If you fellas don’t mind, I think I’ll just pull another chair up close and watch,” Deckert said. “That way I can enjoy the game without losin’ any more money.”
“Fine with me if nobody else cares,” Doc said.
No one else at the table complained, so Deckert pulled up a chair to watch.
Pearlie, Cal, and some of the other hands at Sugarloaf often played poker for matches. It was a game he enjoyed, and it was one at which he had some skill. He spent the first few hands observing the playing habits of the others, folding twice, once sacrificing only his ante, and once losing a little more. He lost the third hand as well, refusing to match a raise.
Without asking for permission, Billy Ray reached across the table and turned over Pearlie’s cards. The others seemed deferential to him.
“Ha!” Billy Ray said. “You had three fours, and you folded to two pair. I’m glad you decided to join us, mister. It’s goin’ to be fun takin’ what little money you have.”
“I don’t have all that much left,” Pearlie said. “And I didn’t want to take too much of a chance.”
“A fella as scared as you probably ought not to play,” Billy Ray said as he raked in the pot.
Pearlie knew exactly what he was doing. By now he had not only picked up some of the strategy of the other players, he had also established in the minds of the others that he was a very cautious player. He had also noticed that Billy Ray was not only arrogant, but reckless. It was a character trait that Pearlie would be able to use.
The cards were dealt again, and this time Pearlie drew a pair of kings. He discarded one card, then smiled as he drew his new card, though in fact it was a five of diamonds, which did nothing to improve his hand.
Pearlie matched the bets, then when Billy Ray raised by five dollars, he watched as the others matched the raise.
“You goin’ to fold again, are you?” Billy Ray asked.
“No,” Pearlie said. “In fact, I think I’ll see your five-dollar raise and raise it by five more.”
“Too steep for me,” Doc said.
Brandon matched the raise, but Billy Ray, as Pearlie knew he would, raised again.
“Ten dollars,” Billy Ray said.
“Damn, Billy Ray, now you’ve run me out of the game as well,” Brandon said.
“I’ll see your ten, and raise you twenty more,” Pearlie replied.
“I ain’t got that much money on me,” Billy Ray said.
“What a shame,” Pearlie said as he reached for the pot.
“Wait a minute, do you know who I am?”
“They told me your name is Billy Ray. Is that not right?”
“It’s Billy Ray, all right. Billy Ray Quentin.” An arrogant smile spread across the young man’s face. “I reckon that names means somethin’ to you.”
Pearlie shook his head. “No,” he said. “To tell you the truth, Billy Ray, the name doesn’t mean a thing to me. Should it?”
“You damn right it should!” Billy Ray said angrily. “What’s the matter with you? Are you blind? Didn’t you see the name when you come into town? I near’bout own this town.”
“Actually, Billy Ray, that would be your pa that owns the town, not you,” Brandon said.
“It’s the same damn thing and you know it,” Billy Ray insisted. He looked across the table toward Pearlie. “Now here is the way it is, mister. I’m goin’ to see your twenty, and raise you by one hundred dollars,” he said. “You can either match that raise, or throw in your cards. What do you think of that?”
“I think if you are going to be raising me, you need to put the money in the pot,” Pearlie replied.
“I told you, I ain’t got it on me, but I’m good for it.”
“Mister, I’ve played poker in saloons and gambling halls all over the West,” Pearlie said. “And everywhere I’ve ever played, when a fella is raised, you either call, or raise with what money you brought to the table. Now if you have the money, put it out there. Otherwise, you’re goin’ to have to fold.”
“The hell you say!”
“Billy Ray, Pearlie is right,” Deckert said. “We’ve always played that way, and you know it.”
“What the hell business is it of yours, Deckert? You done dropped out of the game,” Billy Ray said angrily. “You lend me the money, Doc. You know I’m good for it.”
“I don’t have that much money on me,” Doc replied.
“Brandon?”
“Billy Ray, I’ve got a pretty good hand here myself,” the newspaper editor replied. “If I had enough money, I would have matched his raise. I don’t have the money.”
“All right!” Billy Ray said angrily. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. “All right, take your damn money.”
“Thank you,” Pearlie replied, raking in the pot.
“What did you have?” Billy Ray asked.
“You know better than that, mister,” Pearlie said in a friendly voice. “If you didn’t pay to see my cards, then I don’t have to show them.”
“I aim to see them damn cards,” Billy Ray said. He reached across the table and flipped over the cards Pearlie had laid before him facedown.
“What?” he shouted when he saw them. “All you had was a pair of kings?”
Deckert laughed out loud. “Whoowee, Billy Ray. Looks to me like this young feller run a bluff on you. Yes, sir, he dangled that line down and hooked you just like a fish.”
Several other patrons in the saloon laughed as well.
“Why, you cheatin’ son of a bitch!” Billy Ray shouted, leaping up quickly from his chair. “You ain’t about to make a fool out of me!”
Billy Ray started for his pistol.
The first thing Pearlie noticed was how incredibly slow the man was. When he started his draw, Pearlie thought he was going to have to kill him, but Billy Ray’s draw was so slow and deliberate that Pearlie realized he had another, better option.
Pearlie drew his own pistol, easily beating Billy Ray, then wrapping his hand around it, he brought it down hard on Billy Ray’s head. The arrogant man went down like a poleaxed steer.
Reaching down, Pearlie picked up Billy Ray’s pistol, then walked over to the bar and dropped the gun into a large, brass spittoon, specifically choosing one that was full.
A couple of the other people in the saloon chuckled.
“Ole Billy Ray isn’t goin’ to like findin’ his gun in the spittoon,” Lenny said.
“I don’t like this. Billy Ray isn’t the type to take this. I’m afraid the stranger has let himself in for trouble,” Mary Lou said.