Ace in the Hole

Clint ducked the shots coming from the bottom of the stairs. The shot from the back stairs had blended in. He didn't know how many more men were there, but his best play now was to stay on the third floor and let them come to him.

Suddenly, it got quiet, and a voice called from downstairs.

“Adams? Is that you? Clint Adams? You ain't got a chance. We got a dozen men in the house.”

Clint knew that was a lie, but he still didn't know how many men there were.

“Come on down, Adams,” the voice said. “Come on down and we'll talk. We'll cut you in.”

Clint froze at the top of the stairs, waiting…

THE GUNSMITH by J. R. Roberts

LONGARM by Tabor Evans

SLOCUM by Jake Logan

BUSHWHACKERS by B. J. Lanagan

DIAMONDBACK by Guy Brewer

WILDGUN by Jack Hanson

TEXAS TRACKER by Tom Calhoun

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Clint Adams picked up the three cards he'd drawn from the dealer, added them to the two in his hand and slowly unfolded the five cards like a fan. He'd drawn another ace to go with the other two he'd been dealt. He folded the cards again so that they were stacked in his hands and waited for the other players to look at their cards and decide on their plays. He already knew this was the hand he was going to push.

The play was to Arliss Morgan, the local banker. When Clint had first ridden into the town of Virginia City, Nevada, he had had hopes of finding an interesting poker game, but he had never expected to be involved in a game with the town fathers. Across from him, in a floral vest with a very expensive watch fob hanging from it, was the mayor, William Tisdale. The other two men were local ranchers, Eric Greene and Joe Blocker. Eric was a big man people in town called “Hoss.” He dressed more like a ranch hand than a ranch owner. Joe Blocker, on the other hand, was diminutive and a fine dresser.

The men had money, though, and were all secretly thrilled to be playing in a game with the famous Gunsmith.

They had been playing for several hours now, in a large room on the second floor of the largest hotel in town, also owned by the banker, Morgan. The actual host of the game, however, was a fellow named Dave Hopeville, who owned the Red Garter Saloon and Gaming House. He was supplying the table, the cards, the chips, the refreshments and the girls who served the refreshments. A makeshift bar was set up in one corner of the room, and at the bar stood one pretty blonde and one striking redhead, in matching gowns of red and green.

Hopeville had owned many saloons and gambling halls all over the country, but he was a host, not a gambler. Clint knew him slightly from other towns, but did not know the man's past. It may have been that he'd never gambled, or at one time he'd gambled very badly and quit.

In Clint's experience bad gamblers never quit, they just kept going broke. He suspected Hopeville saw a way early in life to make money from gamblers without actually gambling against them. That made him a very smart man.

Hopeville was standing off to one side, holding a large cigar in one hand and mopping his shiny baldpate with a white handkerchief in the other. He wasn't nervous; he just had a habit of sweating a lot.

The banker, Arliss Morgan, rested his hands on his protruding belly and regarded his cards with a frown. Clint had already noticed that this was the countenance the man took on when he was about to bluff.

“I bet five hundred,” he said, tossing the chips into the pot.

“Call,” Hoss Greene said.

“I fold,” Mayor Tisdale said, throwing his cards down in disgust. “I've got to stop trying to fill those straights.”

The other men laughed and Joe Blocker said, “I'll take a look,” and tossed in his five hundred.

“Raise a thousand,” Clint said.

Morgan looked at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you bluffing, Mr. Adams?” he asked.

“No, Mr. Morgan,” Clint said, “you are.”

Morgan looked stunned and considered his cards for a moment before folding with a “Humph.”

Hoss Greene laughed and said, “He got you that time, Arliss.” Then he looked at his cards, dropped them on the table and said, “Got me, too.”

Joe Blocker looked at Clint, then at his cards, and said, “I gotta keep lookin', Mr. Adams. I call.” He dropped a thousand dollars' worth of chips into the pot, which was the largest of the day, almost ten thousand.

“Three aces,” Clint said, fanning his cards on the table.

“I almost raised you,” Blocker said, showing his three kings. “But in the end, I believed you.”

“But you still had to pay to look, right?” Hoss asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Blocker said with a smile. “I had to see those cards.”

Clint raked in his chips and began to stack them.

“Break for refreshments, gents?” Dave Hopeville asked.

“You got some cold beer back there, Dave?” Arliss Morgan asked.

“Just brought in a cold keg, Arliss.”

“Sounds good to me,” the banker said, standing up.

“Me, too,” Clint said. He rarely, if ever, drank while he was playing cards—at the table.

All five men stood and stretched and made their way to the bar, manned by the two pretty saloon girls.

Clint finished stacking his chips and walked over to the bar, where the striking redhead handed him a beer and gave him a smile.

“You're winning all the money,” she said.

“Not all of it,” he said, “but enough.”

“Are you going to play all night?” she asked.

“I don't know, Loretta,” he said. “I guess that depends on how long it takes me to go ahead and win all the money.”

“I can wait in your room,” she said in a low voice.

“That would be great,” he said. She certainly knew where his room was. She'd spent all night in it, and in the bed, with him.

She moved off to help the blonde, Andrea, serve the other men. Andrea had been in his bed the night before. It had made him nervous when he'd walked into the room and seen the two girls setting up the bar, but they had either not compared notes, or they had and didn't care. The possibilities inherent in the second case were endless.

As he drank his beer, the banker, Arliss Morgan, came up next to him, holding a cold one.

“I usually prefer brandy,” the man said, “but sometimes there's nothing like a cold beer.”

“Agreed.”

“You're playing very well.”

“Thanks. You're…holding your own.”

“No,” Morgan said, “I'm not, but it's nice of you to say. I wonder…”

“Yes?”

“After the game—whenever it ends—would you be open to talking with me?”

“About what?”

The banker shrugged and said, “Possibilities.”

“I'm always open to possibilities,” Clint said.

“Excellent,” the man said. “We'll talk later.”

The man drifted over to his neighbors and Clint wondered what that was all about.