I Travel by Night by Robert R. McCammon Read Free Book Online Page A

pleasant. The blood smell in here was nearly overpowering, that and cheap cigars, sweat, the smell of unwashed bodies and clothes, the tang of the sour beer and the sharp whiskey, and the occasional fragrance of feminine essence as one of the women brushed past.
    “What’re you doin’ here, then?” The man took stock of Lawson’s clothes and, being an intelligent fellow, came to a conclusion. “You ain’t no lumberjack.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “Oh, I got it! You’re one of them ! Am I right?”
    Lawson maintained a slight smile. “One of them , sir?”
    “You got a brother back there.” The man motioned with a scarred thumb toward the rear of the Swamp Root. At a round table under the glow of lanterns sat a group of six gamblers playing cards. They were being watched by an interested audience of both loggers and whores. The ‘brother’ this man referred to was a broad-shouldered gent in a tan-colored suit and a Stetson the same hue, cocked at a jaunty angle. In front of him on the table was an impressive amount of currency and coins. The other players were all raggedy lumberjacks who had obviously been enticed to join this game by… “A cardsharp,” said the man. “Comin’ in here on payday and takin’ candy from the babies. Ain’t no use tellin’ ’em, they ain’t gonna listen.”
    “Hm,” said Lawson, watching the cardsharp gently lay down what appeared to be a winning hand, for the others groaned and slapped their cards aside. Two of the loggers had had enough and left the table, but their places were quickly taken and the game continued. “Is he fleecing the sheep?” Lawson asked.
    “Not so you’d know it. He loses enough to gull ’em. Never gets down so far he can’t climb back up, though. Little babies, thinkin’ they’re gonna leave that table with some money for Mona. Heh! But listen here, ain’t you one of his breed?”
    “No, not his breed.” Lawson was already picking up his shotglass and moving away. “But I don’t like cheaters, so I think I’ll go watch the game.”
    “Not sayin’ he is for sure. That kinda thing’ll get you killed, and he is wearin’ a six. But get in there and gull him , if you can. You look like you’re able.”
    Lawson made his way back. If anything, he might find someone who knew Nocturne. As he neared the table, he saw the cardsharp glance up quickly from the cards at his approach and then back to business again. But in that brief instant Lawson had seen a broad apple-cheeked face with a cleft in the chin, thick reddish eyebrows and below them deep-set dark eyes. The man had a friendly, easy and relaxed composure, but also in that brief instant Lawson had seen a black glimmer of warning in the eyes and a tightening of the beefy shoulders, the message being approach me with caution .
    That was like a summons to Trevor Lawson, who sipped at his whiskey and brought up his predator’s smile.
    He took a position alongside the table, where he could watch everyone. They were playing Five Card Draw with deuces wild. The cardsharp raised the pot to two hundred dollars and then folded. On the next hand, he was the first to fold. Lawson watched the man lose forty dollars on the following hand to a pair of tens and a deuce. The cardsharp removed his hat, mopped his brow with a handkerchief and then returned the hat, and that was when Lawson saw how he kept the cards up his sleeve. The man was very quick and very smooth, but he was not quicker and smoother than the vampire’s eye. The next hand he won sixty dollars by way of two jacks and two deuces.
    One of the other loggers decided retreat was the better course of valor and left the table. “Join in?” Lawson asked, and everyone but the cardsharp nodded. Lawson said, “Thank you,” and took a seat opposite the man.
    “Five dollars to play, friend,” the cardsharp said without meeting Lawson’s gaze. Lawson put down his money, and the game continued.
    The fiddler scratched on. The bartender