Red River Showdown (20 page)

“It's Solomon, all right,” Clint said.

Solomon grinned and said, “Prove it.”

“All right.” Looking down at Solomon's cards, he said, “I saw you swap out the deck we were using with one that you'd marked.”

Although the other gamblers didn't know what to make of what Clint had been saying so far, that sure caught their attention.

“What?” Kenneth snapped.

Solomon shook his head. “He's lying. If anything, he's the one that swapped those cards.”

“Don't you think I'd be sitting on top of more chips if that was the case?” Clint asked.

The other gamblers looked at Clint's stack, which was less than half the size it had been at the start. Solomon's, on the other hand, had nearly tripled.

“And you got most of those chips fairly recently,” Clint said. He then looked around to the rest of the men at the table and announced, “This man's wanted for kidnapping and cheating. If any of you men were afraid to talk before, you should know that the gunmen Solomon brought with him are either dead or being held until we get back to a safe dock.”

When no response came, Solomon grinned and said, “Nice try. Unfortunately, that was a bluff you didn't want to try.” With that, Solomon snapped his fingers and waited for someone to carry out his order.

Nobody came.

As Solomon's smile faded, the skinny man next to Clint lifted his hand to show the pistol he held. “I was to hand this over when the time came,” he said to Clint as he handed the gun to him. “Take it.”

Clint took the gun as Solomon grabbed the edge of the table with both hands. “You're dead!”

“He's right, Mr. Solomon,” the skinny man said. “None of the men are anywhere to be seen. They were supposed to come in here and take all the money from—”

“Shut up!” Solomon snapped.

Turning to Clint, the skinny man explained, “They were supposed to have robbed everyone in this room by now. He wanted me to work for him because lots of these men trust me. He said if I didn't, he'd kill my wife.”

“What's your wife look like?” Clint asked.

In a rushed flow of words, the skinny man described the young woman that Clint had found tied up in the furnace room.

“She's fine,” Clint said. “You can see her shortly.”

“Are you joking?”

“No, I—”

“What the hell's all this about cheating?” Kenneth snarled. “I want my goddamn money back!”

“You won't get nothing back,” Solomon replied sternly. “I'm not a cheat.”

“The cards are marked,” Clint said. “He's holding the ace of hearts, the queen of diamonds and the queen of spades. I don't know what the other two are.”

Kenneth reached across the table and flipped over Solomon's cards. Those three cards were there, just as Clint had promised. “Son of a bitch,” Kenneth muttered.

Just then, Solomon stood up and drew a pistol that had been tucked under his belt. He aimed it at Clint and thumbed the hammer back before another shot blasted through the room.

Clint had jumped to his feet, but didn't have a gun in his hand. Kenneth, on the other hand, was holding a derringer that he'd stashed up his coat sleeve.

“Nobody cheats me, you son of a bitch!” Kenneth said. “Nobody!”

Solomon slumped into his chair. His eyes were still fixed on Clint, but his body was quickly losing the strength to follow through with anything but a pained wheeze. As more blood pumped from the fresh wound in his chest, Solomon let out one last breath and dropped his pistol.

Everyone in the room was watching what happened. One of the gamblers asked, “Was that another goddamn cheater?”

“Yes,” Clint replied. “He was.”

“Serves him right then. Dump him in the water and deal the next hand.”

Clint returned to Labyrinth a little later than expected, since he'd had to explain some things to a group of Texas Rangers as the rest of Solomon's men were taken off the
Misty Morning
. Mia, Elsa and Gretchen said their good-byes, and Clint soon found himself in Rick's Place telling Hartman about the affair.

Rick leaned on the bar, nodding every so often and occasionally drinking from a mug of beer. When Clint was finished, Rick still didn't say much of anything.

“I swear,” Clint said as he picked up his own beer, “I can't go anywhere without it going to hell.”

“You didn't even get any gambling done?”

“Actually, I did. I even turned a nice little profit.”

“What about our arrangement?” Rick asked. “Did you manage to spread the word about this place to earn the money I put toward your bankroll?”

Clint stared at Hartman over the top of his mug. Since the Texan knew him too well to believe a bluff, Clint put his mug down and dug into the pocket where he kept his winnings. “Serves me right for doing a good deed,” Clint muttered.

Rick laughed, but didn't lift a finger to stop Clint from peeling off the right number of bills from the hefty roll of cash.

Watch for

 
CLINT ADAMS, DETECTIVE

 
308
^th
novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series from Jove

 
Coming in August!