Scars of the Heart (2 page)

Having made it a habit of late not to mess in others’ affairs, Kade tried to keep walking, but sharp reminders from the past refused to let him turn and go. It was the black patch covering one of the man’s eyes. That and the quirt he held . . . and obviously intended to use.

Kade clenched his teeth. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His hand involuntarily tugged at the gun he kept strapped to his right thigh, but he stopped, chastising himself. Slipping his six-shooter back into its holster, he returned to the shadows. He knew gunning a man down in broad daylight on a busy street would surely draw unwanted, dangerous attention. The town overflowed with soldiers from nearby Fort Leavenworth.

Tamping down his anger, Kade watched and waited.

The man, in his drunken stupor, actually missed his target about every other blow. Yet the whipping could not have ended soon enough for Kade. When the man raised the quirt again, as if to continue the lashing, Kade drew his gun, unable to tolerate any more. Slowly, he placed it back in its leather nest as the redheaded giant dropped his arm and dragged the whimpering youth up the street and into a hotel barely fit for occupancy.

The brilliant orange orb of the sun sank below the horizon, leaving behind a pink-and-purple-painted sky. The streets grew darker and the hour grew later, but still Kade watched. Calmly perched on two legs of a wooden chair, he appeared to be dozing on the porch of Lucille’s boardinghouse across the way from the hotel. Though he’d pulled his sweat-stained hat down over his face, he could still see the lobby doors from under its brim. He patiently continued his vigil.

Located on the Missouri River, Leavenworth had been named after Jesse H. Leavenworth, the government agent assigned to Kiowa-Comanche affairs. The town bulged at the seams with folks from neighboring towns who were interested in the Doolittle-Leavenworth conference. Kade suspected the one-eyed drunk was a trapper, probably in town to spend recent gains. His appearance certainly didn’t suggest newfound wealth, but Kade had seen it too often before. Men like that placed whiskey and women before a bath, clean clothes, or even food. He hoped his suspicions would prove right. If so, his plan for the evening just might pan out.

He didn’t have to wait much longer. The hotel doors opened, and through them swaggered the grizzly giant, pulling the reluctant waif behind him. Predictably, the pair headed straight for the saloon. Kade rose casually and crossed the street to the Silver Spur. He reached the double doors before they even stopped swinging.

The redheaded tree trunk strode to the bar, ordered a bottle of whiskey, and turned to survey the room. His grip around his captive’s slim wrist remained strong. Kade ordered a beer and took a long, slow swallow. He leaned his elbows on the polished oak and studied the large room in the mirror behind the bar.

A heavy blue haze hung just below the ceiling. Bawdy laughter and amplified conversation mixed with the off-key piano polka to create a near-deafening roar. Scattered tables accommodated men of every size and stature. Some played games of chance. Others held a drink in one hand, a woman in the other. About a dozen scantily clad females sashayed through the room wearing gaudy makeup, cheap perfume, and permanent smiles. But none of that interested him just now.

He watched the one-eyed man pull the cork with his teeth, spit it aside, and upend his bottle, draining several inches from it instantly. Lowering the decanter, he seemed to focus on a table near the back of the room. Three gentlemen were just settling down with a fresh deck of cards. Master and slave made their way across the busy area.

“Mind if I join you?”

The men eyed the newcomer warily, then assessed his companion, who hid beneath the brim of an old hat.

“We’re playing serious poker here, friend,” one of the gentlemen answered.

“I’m serious as they come.” The big man chuckled and set his bottle on the table. From his pocket, he pulled a wad of bills.

Hungry glances ricocheted around the table. The gambler who’d spoken earlier nodded toward an empty seat. With a chortle, the barrel of a man pulled another chair to the table with the toe of his boot and roughly shoved the youth to a sitting position. After another long draw from his bottle, he sat down and reviewed his cards, one at a time, as they were dealt him.

Kade nursed his beer and continued to casually watch the man with the patch. Two hours passed as the money on the table made the rounds. A slick dresser with a thin mustache and foreign cigarettes ran the game for a while. Fate proved fickle, and eventually most of the money sat before the newcomer. One of the others complained good-naturedly, threw in his cards, and gathered his remaining money. Laughing, he informed his companions that since Lady Luck had forsaken him, he would go in search of a different kind of lady.

“That’s it for me as well,” said the man who had agreed to let the stranger join the game.

“Aw, come on boys. I’m just gettin’ warmed up.” The redhead leafed through his money, making a rough count.

Kade approached silently and stood across the table from the arrogant ogre. The man’s bold stare traveled the cowboy’s towering height. When their gazes met, Kade held the other man’s captive. He waited until the mountain began to crumble and his red-rimmed eye twitched.  His sights darted around the table. All grew quiet, and Kade finally spoke.

“Need another player?”

Both gamblers sized up Kade. Fancy Pants took a drag from his sweet-smelling cigarette and squinted his black eyes as the smoke spiraled upward. No Neck licked fat lips with his thick tongue and appraised Kade with his one good eye.

“I can clean your pocket as good as any other.” The redhead chuckled, then bellowed to a passing barmaid for another bottle.

Glancing to the other man as a courtesy, Kade received a polite nod. He swung his leg over the back of a chair and settled himself in, adjusting his gun belt. He noticed the bigger man watching him nervously. When No Neck raised his sights from the holster to Kade’s face, he cleared his throat, then pulled the cork from his new bottle. After taking a large gulp, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth, still clutching the whiskey.

“Name’s Tiny. What’s yours?”

Kade stared at him for several long seconds, then queried, “Does it matter?” The man shifted his focus from Kade to the other gambler, then back.

“Well, no. Just thought we could—”

“Deal,” he ordered, pulling a half-smoked cheroot from one pocket and neatly folded bills from another. He struck a match on the edge of the table and lit his cigar. His gaze never left Tiny’s face. The ogre looked quickly to the other player, who had yet to say a word. Calmly stubbing out his cigarette, the man merely cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Tiny tilted the bottle once more, then dealt.

An hour passed. Kade ordered another beer and watched his prey. Tapping his cards on the table nervously, Tiny forced a chuckle and upped the ante ten dollars.

Manipulating the game hadn’t been easy, but Kade had seen to it that No Neck continued winning while he and Fancy Pants won only enough to stay in the contest. He’d put his skills to the test while making a show of drinking several shots of whiskey. He knew his limit. He was careful not to let his objective get away from him. Tiny, on the other hand, drank so much during the course of the evening, Kade was beginning to think he’d pass out before the game ended.

With a shrug, Kade folded his cards and placed them face down on the table. He watched as the other two gamblers laid out their spreads. Fancy Pants grinned slowly, pulling the pile of winnings toward himself. Tiny grumbled loudly and barked his order for yet another bottle. The frail form beside the giant shuddered every time he yelled out. Kade fought to control the anger blazing within him. He took the deck and began to deal.

A gleam formed in Tiny’s eye as he viewed his cards, and Kade inhaled steadily. He turned his attention to the other man.

The gambler blew sweet-smelling smoke toward the ceiling. “I might as well go out in grand fashion. I’ll open with thirty.” He placed the crisp currency in the center of the table, then folded his cards together, lacing his fingers around them.

Kade smiled inwardly. The man always did that when he had a fairly good hand, as if he worried someone would see right through his cards. Kade turned to Tiny. He had been easy to figure. He chortled, tapped his cards on the table, and licked his lips when he thought his hand was a winner.

“I’ll see and raise. Twenty more.” He slapped the bills down and sat back heavily in his chair.

Without a word, Kade placed his money on the pile and focused on Fancy Pants, deck poised.

The proper gambler added his bills to meet the raise. “Two of your best,” he requested, exchanging a pair from his hand for the new arrivals from Kade.

“Jest one fer ol’ Tiny.” He tossed the offender to the table and forced himself to retrieve the next card slowly.

“Dealer takes two.” Kade dealt to himself and placed the remaining deck on the table. He turned to the man on his left.

“Fifty dollars, gentlemen.”

Tiny grinned at his companions. “Let’s jest make that an even hunnerd.” The pile grew higher.

Motionless, Kade stared at Tiny until the big man began to squirm. He watched him lick his lips, then wipe the bubbly trail of saliva on his shirtsleeve. He laughed uncomfortably, looking from one gambler to the other. Fancy Pants broke the silence.

“That’s one hundred dollars to you, friend.”

Kade’s gaze remained steady. No Neck took a swig from his decanter.
Liquid courage,
mused Kade,
but oh so temporary.
The big man studied him, then straightened in his chair.

“You scairt or what? I say put your acorns on the anvil, cowboy.” Pleased with himself, Tiny smiled broadly.

Without looking at the five cards resting on the table before him, Kade placed one hundred dollars on the pile of money. “I’ll see your one—”

“Ain’t you gonna check yer hand first?” Tiny asked incredulously, smile drooping.

Kade placed his remaining stack of bills in the center of the table. “And raise you—”

“Now just hold on . . . that’s over three hunnerd dollars!”

No Neck’s one eye grew round, and his chin dropped a notch. Kade remained stoic. “Four hundred sixty,” he clarified. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Fancy Pants fold his cards and toss them to the table. With a calm that bespoke years of winning—and losing—he sat back in his chair and pulled a square silver case from his breast pocket. After extracting a cigarette, the gambler tapped the end of it gently against the case and watched in amusement.

“Uh, now, this here is supposed to be a friendly game.” When the stranger neither responded nor moved, Tiny continued. “I ain’t got enough to call. Can’t you see out from under that there hat of yours?”

No Neck’s voice grew louder with each word, yet Kade remained impassive. Crimson color crept up and across the large man’s face. He tapped his cards on the table unconsciously. Finally Kade asked quietly, “What about your
friend
?” He dressed the last word in sarcasm. The filthy ragamuffin glanced up to see to whom Kade referred. He caught a glimpse of bright-green eyes in a dirt-smudged face before they disappeared beneath the hat brim once more.

“My
friend
? My friend ain’t got no money and . . .”

Kade watched realization dawn as Tiny understood he meant to win the waif from him.

“Now hold on jest a minute. You can’t . . . I mean . . .”

“You
scairt
?” Kade mimicked.

“Ain’t fer sale,” Tiny spit out.

“I’m not looking to buy.” Kade noticed a crowd gather, obviously interested in the outcome of the game. The filthy youth squirmed uncomfortably in the chair. Clothes that would fit a man hung from the scrawny frame. Grimy, pale skin peeked through tattered holes. Raised red welts spoke of the earlier whipping. Stringy dirty hair stuck out from under an old hat.

Again Tiny scanned the crowded room. He seemed to be the center of attention . . . and he obviously didn’t like it. He peered at the cards in his hands, then at the man across the table.

“You’re bluffin’,” he grunted. Straightening himself, he let his greedy gaze drift to the small fortune in the center of the table.

“All right then—I call.” He slapped the pile of money with his heavy hand.

The crowd sucked in its collective breath, and Kade caught a second glimpse of scared green eyes. Licking his lips once more, Tiny left another slimy trail in his coarse red whiskers. With a deep laugh, he laid down his cards.

“Ladies and tens, cowboy. Where I come from, we call that a full house. I guess it jest ain’t yer night after all.” He sat back in his chair and crossed beefy arms over his wide chest.

All eyes pivoted to Kade. He sat perfectly still, staring at Tiny until the arrogant smile began to fade. The crowd shifted impatiently.

“Well, are you gonna show us what you got?” Tiny scanned the assembly for support. Several onlookers mumbled agreement.

Kade leaned forward. With deliberate ease, he withdrew two cards from his hand. “A pair of twos—”

The ogre laughed as he went for the money.

Kade reached into his hand once more. “And another pair of twos.”

No Neck stopped raking the winnings toward himself and stared at Kade with his bulging eye. Murmurs rose from the crowd.

“You cheatin’ sonofabitch!” roared Tiny as he bolted to his feet, reaching for his gun.

Before the one-eyed man stretched to his full height, Kade stood straight and tall with his six-shooter trained on the fat man’s protruding belly. Tiny froze mid-draw. His gaze left the gun barrel only to glare a demon’s dare.

“Don’t try it, mister. Live to play another day.” Kade’s quiet response didn’t reach the ears at the back of the crowd, but Tiny heard him clearly.

He glanced around the room at the ring of faces. Most had retreated several steps, and all looked fearful. Common sense should send them scrambling for safety from possible stray bullets, but the lack of sobriety and the hunger for excitement kept them vying for better views.