Tiff's Game (Perry County Frontier Series) by Chandler Roy F

Author:Chandler, Roy F. [Chandler, Roy F.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Katherine R. Chandler
Published: 2013-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chip and Carter chose to go home. Tiff wished to stay on. Haycock's was clearly the area's big game. Despite the Tiny Doyle problem, playing at Haycock's table should be challenging. Tiff already looked forward to it.

The table was again filled, and Haycock had sat down last, accepting the only open chair without comment. That was unusual. Most professionals reserved their place. A comfortable chair, a good light, even sitting out of a draft could be important to a man anchored night after night. Most gamblers preferred having their backs to a wall. It was not fear of being shot from behind, as some pulp writers claimed. A rifle bullet or a shotgun slug could penetrate most walls encountered, but a wall kept watchers from seeing the professional's cards and inadvertently or deliberately betraying the strengths or weaknesses of a hand. Haycock's game had no kibitzers, so seating did not matter.

Although players changed, the gambling was much as before. Haycock played his stolid game, winning more than he lost. Then a pot would grow and Haycock would win—big. Not so large that players were broken, but pots rich enough to please any professional.

Tiff did not like it, but there seemed no pattern that would indicate cheating. Haycock would just strike and win. Tiff tried to tie the occasionally present waiter to a scheme of hidden signals, but nothing matched. The right-hand man appeared now and then to whisper in Haycock's ear, but usually the game continued unchanged.

The docks grew quiet as night drew on. Families were long departed, and having watched the gaming and enjoyed Mister Haycock's appearance, most loungers also called it a night. Tiff stayed on, observing closely, but discovering nothing reportable. He studied Haycock's mannerisms, searching for useful giveaways, but the gambler was too experienced for that.

The men Haycock played against began looking at watches, and Tiff judged the game about finished. This was Friday. Would Haycock stay another night or move downriver to find fresh money?

The game folded, and the players' voices rose. Men shook hands and swapped banter. One swore he had lost the farm, but there was no distress in his voice. Haycock did not hurry his fellow gamers away. They would play again and probably many times more. They were Haycock's bread and butter, and they needed to enjoy losing their money. An extra half hour spent joshing and gossiping helped ensure their return to Haycock's table.

A crewman waited patiently, leaned against a stack of boxes. He explained to Tiff that the barge would leave early, and the next night's game would be downriver at Newport. The man was one of the club wielders Tiff had faced earlier, but Haycock's man whittled idly and displayed no animosity.

Again the heavy sweater appeared and fanned himself on the foredeck. Tiff supposed he worked around the galley cook stove. Crew began dousing lanterns, and the last of the players thumped off across the dock. Tiff's horse stood alone at the hitching post. He tightened the saddle

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