Red River Showdown (19 page)

Mia nodded.

“We both could have been killed, but we managed to take out that last batch of Solomon's men. We even saved another hostage that we didn't even know about. After all of that, you're impressed that I was on good terms with the laundry lady?”

Mia nodded again. “What was her name?”

“Lucy,” Clint said as he shifted his eyes forward so he could open the door leading in from the deck. “Most folks call her Lucy.”

Instead of stepping through the door, Mia placed her hands on Clint's cheeks and gave him a gentle kiss.

“What was that for?” Clint asked.

“That was just because you act like you don't deserve it. Besides, if you hadn't known Lucy so well, one of those workers might have run off and let the news leak to Solomon about our little scuffle in the furnace room.”

“Those workers looked too scared to do much of anything. From the looks of it, I think they were just as glad to see those men get taken out of the way as we were.”

“Still,” Mia continued, “knowing Lucy came in pretty handy. We're actually a pretty good team. You ever think of joining the Texas Rangers?”

“I thought you said you weren't exactly a Ranger,” Clint pointed out.

Mia shrugged. “I'm not, but I bet they'd let me in if I brought you along in the bargain.”

“I know you hate to hear this, but I don't think you'd be as useful if they put one of those big white hats on you. You're like a shark swimming just under the water. Nobody knows you're there until you've already sunk your teeth into their leg.”

“That's a nice way of saying those Texas boys would never let a woman in with the real Rangers, but I'll still take it.”

Clint pulled in a breath and looked toward the main room, which was just inside the door where they were now standing. “Lucy may be able to keep those people who saw our fight quiet for a while, but I don't want to push it. Let's get this ball rolling before it's too late.”

“We still don't know exactly what to look for,” Mia said. “I've pieced together a few descriptions of Solomon here and there, but they could match just about any somewhat handsome man with dark hair.”

“The one thing we do know is that Solomon is out to steal as much money as he can before leaving this boat with his prisoners,” Clint pointed out. “He's probably already robbed a few bankrolls, but there's not much we can do about that. The best way for him to steal now is to win at a game.”

“That also gives him plenty of witnesses to say he was somewhere else when those prisoners were taken or that money was stolen,” Mia added.

“Good thinking. Since I managed to get a look at the cards he marked, all we should do is go in and try to find the game that's got the potential to create the biggest pots.”

Mia let out a haggard sigh. “I have no idea how the hell we can find out something like that.”

Clint was about to admit the same thing when he saw a potential savior walk toward the door. He smiled at the man with the salt-and-pepper hair as the door was opened for them. “Hello, Arvin,” Clint said.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Do you have any idea where we could find a Mr. Solomon?”

Arvin didn't even pause before answering, “I don't believe I know a Mr. Solomon.”

“What about the man who stays in room number five?”

“I believe he's sitting at a table in the aft poker room.”

“Are you sure?” Mia asked.

Arvin nodded. “I just delivered some refreshments to that table and they were charged to that cabin. I've seen that man walking into that room myself, otherwise I wouldn't have allowed the charge.”

“Which one is he?” Clint asked.

“He has dark hair and was sitting with his back to the wall. If you'd like, I could point him out to you.”

Clint reached into his pocket and placed a few folded bills into his hand. He then placed those bills into Arvin's hand as he shook it. “You've been a big help, Arvin. Thank you kindly.”

When he got a look at how much money was in his hand, Arvin actually smiled. “My pleasure, sir.” After that, he held the door open for Clint and Mia to enter.

They walked straight through the main room, greeted a few familiar faces and walked out the door leading to the room at the back of the boat. Once inside, they were fighting for space since the cramped quarters were packed with gamblers. Just looking at the tabletops told Clint one thing.

“This is where the money is,” he whispered to Mia.

She nodded toward a table at the back of the room. “And that's where Solomon is.”

Unfortunately, all but one of the men sitting there matched the rough description Arvin had given them. Also, the table was in a corner, so nearly everyone had his back to a wall.

“Nothing's ever easy,” Clint said as he walked over to the table.

Clint worked his way through the crowded room and stepped up to the table in the back corner. One of the men sitting there was raking in the pot, so Clint took the opportunity to lean in and tip his hat.

“Looks like a good game,” Clint said. “Mind if I sit in?”

A few of the players recognized Clint's face and shrugged, since they didn't know him quite well enough to vouch for him directly. One of the older players stared at Clint as if he'd dropped his pants and asked the rest of the table what they thought of the sight.

“We got a full game,” the older man grunted.

Another of the players shrugged and looked away from Clint as if he'd already forgotten he was there.

As the deck was being shuffled, but before a single card could be dealt, Clint sighed and reached into his jacket. “There's not a lot of seats left on this boat,” Clint said as he set a stack of money onto the table with his hand firmly on top of it. “You sure you couldn't see your way clear to making some room?”

A few of the players looked around at one another, but they all seemed to be in agreement.

“Have a seat,” the older spokesman said. “No reason to keep a man out when he just wants to have a friendly game.”

Clint smiled and pulled a chair over to the table. “My thoughts, exactly,” he said.

The moment he sat down, a young man wearing the uniform of the boat's crew came over and changed Clint's money into chips. Drinks were brought over and the game was under way.

“My name's Clint, by the way.”

The man to Clint's left nodded and said, “That'd make me Kenneth.”

The older man who'd done most of the talking grumbled and shuffled the cards. Apart from a few streaks of gray in his hair, he came close to fitting the description Clint had heard regarding Solomon. Then again, so did everyone but Kenneth. Kenneth was a slender man with light blond hair. The man sitting directly across from Clint had a heavier build. The man to Clint's right was slightly skinnier than what Clint had expected. Rather than try to figure anything out, Clint sat back and played some cards.

The first hand he was dealt was a pair of threes. Since triple threes had seemed to be Clint's lucky hand on the
Misty Morning
, he pitched the other three cards and hoped for the best.

Kenneth pitched the same amount of cards after calling the small wager that had been put out by the fellow to Clint's right.

Sure enough, when his replacement cards were dealt, Clint not only got his third three, but a pair of sevens to boot. After another little bet was placed, Clint raised it by another twenty-five dollars.

“I'm out,” Kenneth said as he threw his cards toward the dealer.

“Me, too,” the man next to Kenneth said.

The older man rubbed his chin and nodded to himself. “I'll see that bet . . . and double it.”

Although he'd been considering it before, the skinny fellow to Clint's right let out a whistle and set his cards down. “Too much for me. You two have at it.”

Clint pulled in a deep breath and thought about something else as he tried to look agonized over his decision. What he truly concentrated on was the backs of the cards on the table. After studying them for a few more seconds, Clint was convinced that none of those cards were marked in the way that he'd seen in room number five.

Just to make certain the game remained interesting, Clint rattled some more chips in his hands and looked over to the only man remaining in the game. “You trying to muscle me out of this hand?” Clint asked.

“One way to find out,” the man replied good-naturedly.

Clint thought his chances were pretty good of taking an even bigger chunk out of the other man's chips. Then again, it was only the first hand, and Clint had no way of knowing whether or not the man was bluffing or if he'd gotten even luckier on the draw than Clint had.

“Raise another fifty,” Clint said reluctantly.

Without hesitation, the man called the bet. He moved in the chips and showed three kings with an ace and ten to back it up. “Three wise men,” he said. “What've you got?”

Clint showed his full house and raked in the chips.

The older man shook his head and laughed. “You got awfully damn lucky on the draw, my friend, but that luck doesn't last.”

“For my sake, I hope it does,” Clint replied with a grin.

“This should prove to be an interesting game.”

“I'm counting on it.”

The game wore on for hours. Truth be told, it was one of the more interesting games Clint had played in a while. Even though he wasn't just there to play poker, Clint found himself savoring every moment. The stakes rose steadily. All the players had their moments of glory, and not one of them was prone to foolish mistakes. It was exactly the sort of thing Clint had been hoping for when he'd first opened the finely engraved invitation.

Even though that invitation had come only through a bit of trickery on behalf of the Texas Rangers, Clint was glad to be there all the same. He'd won his fair share of the pots, and the fact that the other gamblers weren't too interested in talking and swapping stories only allowed Clint to concentrate on what he was doing.

Kenneth grinned as he lay down his cards. “Flush,” he announced proudly. “Queen high.”

Clint and most of the other men tossed their cards amid a few muttered curses. The man across from Clint, however, looked back and forth between his cards and the ones spread out in front of Kenneth.

This man was the heavyset one with the strong features and thick black hair that made him look more like the captain of the boat than one of its passengers. “It seems to be your night, Kenneth,” the man said.

“Just playing the cards I'm dealt.”

While shuffling and preparing to deal, the man across from Clint nodded and replied, “We'll just have to see what we can do about that.”

Clint watched the shuffle and the deal as closely as he'd been watching all the others. He didn't see the other man make a switch or even move the cards to somewhere they were out of sight. Even so, somewhere along the line, the switch was made.

By the time Clint received his third card, he noticed something familiar. The pattern on the back of his cards was slightly altered in a way that could have easily been mistaken for normal wear and tear due to sweaty hands or careless shuffles. The irregularities weren't consistent, but Clint knew they were the same as the ones he'd seen on those cards in room number five.

Clint was dealt the ace of spades and two other spades to match. He also got two of his three lucky threes, so he kept those and the ace and discarded the rest.

The betting started off small and Clint kept it that way. When he didn't get anything to match his threes or ace, Clint was glad he hadn't been superstitious. Keeping his eyes on the man across from him, Clint called the bet that was made and watched for a move to be made.

The skinny fellow on Clint's right won the hand with a pair of sevens, and nothing else of interest came to pass. As the next several hands were played, Clint noticed the man across from him taking fewer and fewer losses. In fact, he'd even started to build up a healthy stack of chips that had been taken directly from Kenneth's pile. Those marked cards stayed in play, and Clint managed to learn a few of those markings for himself.

It wasn't until an hour later that some of the right cards fell into the right set of hands.

Clint didn't even look at his cards before he called the bet of a hundred dollars posed by the older man at the table. When the bet was raised again, Clint looked at the man who'd tossed in the additional chips and asked, “Did you hear about what happened earlier?”

“No,” Kenneth replied. “What?”

“Some men were killed because they were caught cheating.”

The older man nodded and the skinny fellow shrugged.

“What do you think about that, Solomon?”

Although the man across from Clint didn't say anything outright, the speed with which his eyes jumped up to look at Clint spoke volumes.

“I heard they were friends of yours,” Clint said.

“Are you speaking to me?” Solomon asked.

“You know damn well I am,” Clint replied. “I just thought you'd like to know that all those people you held hostage are free and all the money you stole has been accounted for.”

The older man sitting next to Solomon cleared his throat and asked, “What's the meaning of all this talk?”

“I'm sure I don't know,” Solomon said evenly. “Perhaps you should ask him.”

Clint turned and saw Mia standing near the door. Elsa was beside her and so was Marty. Both of them talked excitedly to Mia and pointed toward Clint's table. When Mia walked up to stand behind Clint, she leaned to his ear and whispered, “Both of them say they saw that man when they were captured, but they don't know for certain it's Solomon.”