A Million Tears (37 page)

‘How did it happen?’ I asked. ‘I mean, how did he come to get into a game like that?’ I paused to sip my own drink. My hand was none too steady either. ‘It’s so out of character for Evan to do something so bloody, bloody stupid.’

‘I know,’ her lip trembled and then she couldn’t help herself but buried her head on my shoulder to cry.

After a few moments she pulled herself together and sat up. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle James. I must look a mess . . . oh damn. I think I’m going to cry again.’ She took a gulp of her drink and held back the tears.

‘Do you know how he got into the game?’ I asked again.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I went to . . . to the wash room, and by the time I’d returned he was playing. I . . . I stood and watched for a while and saw him win a little and then he began to lose. I guess he’d lost about a hundred dollars when I came to fetch you. Could you get me another brandy, please?’ She held out her empty glass.

I took it and went to the bar. I was worried, very worried. I had never seen Evan like that. I had noticed the whiteness of his pallor, the way he couldn’t keep his hands still when he picked up the cards. I had never heard him talk to Meg like that, either. Oh, they had their arguments but they were never real rows. And they always made up afterwards, no matter how ungracefully the loser gave in. After all they were both strong minded people. But this? I had read about gambling fever. It was often compared to gold fever and had ruined many a good man. I prayed it did not have a hold on Evan. The old man looked at me from across the bar, appearing older than I cared to remember him, mirroring my frown. I returned to Meg.

‘What shall we do?’ she asked in a quiet voice, taking the drink with a nod of thanks.

‘I’m not sure. How much money does Evan have?’

‘Not that much. A few hundred dollars. Huh, hark at me, not that much. That’s more than the insurance money we got when Evan’s parents died. Funny how one’s money values change, isn’t it? Oh my God . . .’

‘What’s the matter?’ My heart lurched at the further anguish in her voice.

‘Remember a year or so back when we were returning from New York and we saw that advertisement for an auction of bankrupt stock? Evan was annoyed because we didn’t have enough money with us to attend. Remember after that he said he was going to carry an emergency fund with him at all times?’

I nodded, I remembered only too well. I also remembered the amount without Meg having to remind me.

‘It was ten thousand dollars, Uncle James. It’s in that special pouch he had made. He used it once, not all that long ago. Remember that deal? All those cans of food at ten cents in the dollar? The profit was incredible.’

‘I suppose he has the money on him now?’

Meg nodded. ‘What if he uses that? What’ll we do then?’

I shook my head slowly. I was out of my depth. I did not know what to suggest. If Meg couldn’t get him away then there was little chance of me doing so.

‘I know one thing,’ Meg suddenly said with fierce determination, ‘sitting here doesn’t help,’ She stood up, leaving the rest of her drink. ‘Come on, Uncle James. Let’s go and see what’s happening. I’ll get him away from that game come hell or high water. And damn that pig sitting opposite him.’ She tossed her head and walked away. I hurriedly finished my brandy and followed.

Evan now had a stack of chips in front of him that must have been worth a few thousand dollars at least. There was a pile of chips in the middle of the table and I caught my breath when I heard Thorgood say: ‘I see your five hundred and raise you seven hundred.’

The man next to him threw his cards down with disgust. ‘Too rich for me, I’m out.’

‘Me too,’ said another. One of the players had already quit and that left just Evan and Thorgood.

‘Well, Griffiths,’ Thorgood said with a sneer, which seemed to be his perpetual way of talking. ‘Are you going to go along or fold?’

‘Don’t, Evan,’ said Meg. ‘Throw it in. Come away, please.’ She was standing just behind him and to one side. ‘It isn’t worth it, Evan,’ the anguish in her voice fell on deaf ears.

Thorgood looked at Evan and said, ‘This isn’t an open game where advice is given Griffiths. Either play or jack it. And tell this bitch to stop bothering the game.’

I waited for the explosion from Evan which I was sure would break the spell. Nobody spoke about Meg like that in Evan’s presence. There was no explosion. No lurching across the table and giving the man the good hiding he deserved. I could not believe it. I shook my head for suddenly I couldn’t seem to think straight.

‘Go away,’ was all Evan said, not looking around. She did not move and he turned his head. His eyes were like chips of blue flint and when he looked at her there was a contempt I had never imagined possible. Meg shrank back. ‘Go away,’ he repeated.

Thorgood was smiling hugely, enjoying the drama. If I’d had my gun with me I am sure I would have shot the man and damned the consequences.

Meg made as though to protest, but with a short cry she turned and rushed from the room. She knocked over a waiter who was approaching with a tray of drinks but did not stop. I was torn between running after her and staying. I decided on the latter. The only man who could comfort her now was sitting at the table, his cards already in his hands, a frown of concentration on his brow.

Evan hesitated. I could see the cards he held. Three queens. I knew it was not a bad hand. Don’t do it you fool, I willed him. He picked up the chips and threw them into the pile. ‘See you,’ he said in a voice I hardly recognised.

Thorgood threw down three tens and two fours and won the hand. Evan slumped further into his chair. When the waiter returned with another load of drinks Evan tossed his off and ordered another. It looked like bourbon, barely lightened with water.

‘I’ve had enough for one night,’ said one of the players, a big fat man who had been drinking glass after glass of beer. For a moment I hoped they would all pack it in but that hope was short lived.

‘I’m game for some more if you fellows are,’ said the man on Evan’s left and the man next to him agreed. So did Thorgood. Evan said nothing.

God knows how long I stood there. All I do know is that my feet and back ached atrociously and in spite of all the coffee I could hardly stay awake. Something about the game began to puzzle me and it took ages to see what. Now, I’ve admitted I knew little about the mechanics of poker but that was not important. I realised that though Evan and the others won they did not win as often as Thorgood. And when they did their pile of chips was not as high either. Thorgood won most of the hands he served, carefully raising the bidding each time. Perhaps if there had been other spectators he might not have been so casual about it but with just me – and I had admitted a lack of understanding of the game – and the waiter who was there only fleetingly, Thorgood must have felt safe.

Perhaps it was because I disliked the man so much I wanted to believe he was cheating. So I looked for it. It was not even clever stuff like dealing off the bottom. Or, at least, if he was doing that I couldn’t see it. No, he just kept a card up his sleeve and when the time was right he would play it. I turned away to think about the problem and get another cup of coffee when with a shock I saw the sun coming over the horizon. The night had gone and with it at least five thousand dollars of Evan’s money.

I thought about what Thorgood was doing and thought back to some of the games I could remember. Thorgood’s most consistent winning hands were full houses and four of a kind.

I wandered to one side where I could see Thorgood’s hands. It was difficult to watch him without being too obvious but I was lucky. He fumbled his palming act and I saw the two cards up his sleeve not one.

‘I vote this the last hand of the game,’ said the man on Evan’s left. He was florid faced, about sixty and from his conversation I gathered he was a rancher. The other man agreed.

‘What do you say Griffiths?’ I had to restrain myself from denouncing the bastard there and then. If I had done I knew Thorgood would shoot me. It would be the lesser of two evils for him to pretend not to know I was unarmed rather than to be proven a cheat. I reckoned he was a professional gambler and if he was he would be finished.

‘I don’t care,’ Evan shrugged. ‘Just play as long as you like.’

I wanted to hit him, the stupid sod. My anger flashed between Thorgood and Evan. It was Thorgood’s deal.

As soon as the first three cards were dealt I could sense it was a special hand. Evan perked up and I thought what a poor fool he was. A man like Thorgood would be able to read Evan like a book.

Straightaway the betting became heavy and after only three rounds there was only Evan and Thorgood left. There was only one thing that I could do.

Quickly I refilled my cup with fresh coffee and contrary to my usual practice I did not cool it with milk or cream. I stood by the table between Thorgood and the rancher. I could see that Evan would have to call Thorgood soon or else he would run out of money. Thorgood’s right hand was sliding to his left sleeve and I knew he was about to make the substitution while all eyes were on Evan.

I stumbled and as I did so I prayed my slightly rheumatic hands would not let me down. The hot coffee fell on Thorgood’s shirt front, staining it brown. He jumped up with a startled oath and yell of pain. As he did so I fell into him pushing him back into his seat, slipping my fingers into his sleeve and coming away with the cards. I landed on the floor and in the confusion pushed the cards down the front of my trousers.

Thorgood was dabbing at his shirt front and cursing me roundly. Evan knelt by my side to help me. There was concern on his face and when he asked if I was all right it was in his normal voice.

I whispered, ‘Play Evan before he cancels the game. Go on, call him, you bloody fool.’

Evan was startled for a second but stepped up to the table. ‘Shut up, Thorgood,’ he said more like his old self. ‘I call.’ He threw his cards on the table.

The look of pure hatred Thorgood gave me was sufficient to tell me he knew what I had done and why. His face was mottled pink with rage and for a second I thought he was going to go for his gun.

Instead Evan thundered at him, ‘Thorgood, make up you mind. Show me your cards or throw them in.’

Thorgood jerked around to face him and with a snarl said, ‘Three aces, Griffiths.’ He threw them on the table.

Evan had three tens and two twos. He began pulling the stack of chips towards him. ‘Thank you for the game,’ he said to no one in particular.

I climbed to my feet rather shakily as the fall had rattled me somewhat. With another snarl of rage Thorgood stalked out of the room. The other two men, not understanding what had happened, just shrugged their shoulders and left with unanswered goodnights. Evan sat at the table, his head in his hands.

‘God . . . I . . . I where’s Meg?’ Evan asked in a quiet voice.

‘Either sleeping or still crying on her bed I suspect. Evan,’ I exploded, ‘what the bloody hell happened? What made you do such a god damned stupid, thing? How could you talk to Meg like that?’ I was so angry I still wanted to hit him.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Uncle James. Once I started playing I just didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t stop. I was determined to beat that bastard Thorgood. I wanted the thrill of raking that money in, of winning. It was unbelievable. I . . . I can’t explain it. I just had to win. That was all there was to it. And I couldn’t leave until I did so. Seeing you collapse like that was such a shock I sort of . . . sort of came round. Hell, I don’t know how to explain it. It was like having a veil lifted from my mind. I thought you’d had a heart attack or something. I thought all sorts of things. But suddenly . . . I just don’t know, look you. It was so strange. It was as if my brain started working again. What happened anyway? Are you all right?’

I nodded. ‘I am now.’

‘And what was all that about? Telling me to bet?’

‘Thorgood was cheating you,’ I put my hand down the front of my trousers and felt for the cards. They were caught in a fold of my shirt. I pulled them out. I held two sevens in my hand. I explained it all to Evan.

‘The lousy cheating . . .’ Evan began but I interrupted him.

‘Never mind Thorgood. You’d better go to Meg and beg her forgiveness or whatever it takes. She’s very upset, Evan.’

He nodded. ‘You’re right, Uncle James. God what a fool I was! You’d better be careful. Not only did Thorgood give me a lot of my money back but he also knows that you know he was cheating. Come on, if you give me a hand with these chips I’ll cash them later. I’ll walk back with you, just in case.’

I slept until sunset. When I woke I had an aching head and a mouth like the bottom of a parrot’s cage. I couldn’t understand it, after all, I hadn’t drunk much in the way of alcohol. Remembering the night before, I felt better, trusting that everything was all right with Meg and Evan. I crawled out of bed with a groan and went over to the wash stand. There did not appear to be any more lines on the seamed face that looked back at me I worked up a lather and scratched at my grey stubble with my silver handled cut-throat Meg had given me a couple of Christmas’ earlier. Everything I cherished came from the family, even the penknife the boys had given me. I grinned at my reflection when I remembered Sion pointing to one of the blades and telling me it was to remove stones from horses’ feet. He hoped King or Thunderbolt would oblige by picking one up, but so far they hadn’t.

My memory often flashed back to that day when the twins and Dai had called. It had been a turning point in my life. No, more than that. An awakening. A return to the joy of living which I had not felt for a long time.

Even the present threat of Thorgood, if there was one, could not dampen my spirits. I decided to leave Meg and Evan alone and went out for a walk as far as the nearest bar. Standing at the bar I still had my feeling of well being having enjoyed the night sounds and smells. I ordered another beer, this time not minding so much the old man looking back at me between the bottles. I pondered about going home and finally decided to drain my glass and order a third drink. I had the glass to my lips when I was shoved hard in the back. I jerked forward, spilled half my beer which somehow missed my shirt and splashed onto the bar and turned around to protest.