Journey into Violence by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

Hank Lowery had traded his gambler’s finery for range clothes, but he still managed to look elegant as he rose to his feet. He was still unarmed. “I’m off in search of a friendly poker game. The sixty dollars you paid me, Mrs. Kerrigan, is burning a hole in my pocket.”
    â€œMr. Lowery, you’re a grown man and may do as you please, but I wish you would reconsider. The gambling houses in this town are rough and dangerous places, and I wouldn’t want to see you come to harm.” Kate’s beautiful face brightened. “I know, we can order a deck of cards and play Loo. I’m told it’s all the rage of the British aristocracy.”
    â€œI’m afraid I’ve never heard of that game.” Lowery looked anxious to leave.
    â€œLoo is very simple, really. The dealer deals each player five cards and he or she is given the opportunity to stay in or drop out. Any player who stays in takes a share of the pot for every trick he takes, but he must pay an amount equal to the whole pot if he fails to take any tricks.” Kate smiled. “Isn’t that a hoot?”
    â€œWhat are the stakes?” Lowery said.
    â€œSince we’re in Dodge and all feeling a little reckless, I think we can go as high as two pennies a trick,” Kate said.
    â€œLoo promises to be a sweet distraction for a future time, dear lady,” Lowery said. “But the poker table beckons and I must heed its siren call.”
    â€œThen do be careful, Mr. Lowery. Don’t stay up too late and do avoid the ladies of the night who are all too willing to part the unwary gentleman from his hard earned money.”
    â€œI’ll be careful,” Lowery said. “I’ve been in cow towns before.”
    â€œWant me to hold his hand, Kate?” Frank said.
    Kate said, “That will be quite unnecessary, Frank.”
    After Lowery left she stopped a waiter and ordered a pack of cards. “Now we’ll play Loo. And we’ll have more tea and some scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream. Isn’t that better than frequenting some hot, smelly saloon, Trace?” She smiled as the waiter returned. “Ah, and here are the cards at last. I’ll deal.”
    Outside, as the evening shaded into darkness, Dodge was ablaze with light—a glittering beacon in the darkness of the plains. The saloons, dance halls, and gambling dens were doing a roaring, boozy trade and somewhere close a drunken rooster took potshots at the rising moon.

C HAPTER T EN
    Hank Lowery chose the newly opened Top Hat Saloon, figuring his guise as an over-the-hill puncher would stand him in good stead with the high rollers. They’d peg him as just another hayseed to be fleeced.
    He had been around and had gambled on the riverboats and in some fancy places, but the Top Hat, still smelling of raw timber, impressed him as a pleasure palace where a man could commit every mortal sin in the book had he the time, money, and inclination.
    A large dance floor, a massive mahogany bar, and an elevated stage dominated the vast interior space and seemed designed to make a tall man feel small, as well as awed by the brass and red velvet splendor. A balcony shaped like a horseshoe was compartmentalized into small rooms closed by violet-colored curtains. Paintings of naked women in suggestive poses hung above each crib, advertising the varied pleasures to be had within. Tables and chairs surrounded the dance floor, each with its own small oil lamp, and from the timber ceiling, illuminating all, hung a great crystal chandelier.
    But it was the score of saloon girls who doubled as dance partners and waitresses that took Lowery, a man of some sophistication, aback. He found himself staring like a slack-jawed rube just off the farm at glorious girls who had obviously been chosen for their dazzling looks. They wore laced and buckled boned corsets in every color of the rainbow, gauzy little skirts that served no useful