The Gentleman Outlaw and Me-Eli (7 page)

Without another word, Calvin pulled a brand-new pack of playing cards out of his pocket. Where or when he'd gotten them I hadn't the slightest idea, but I was too fascinated by his skill to ask any questions. Instead, I watched him fan out the two of spades, the jack of diamonds, and the ace of hearts. Turning them face down, he shuffled the three cards and spread them out on the table. Lordy, but he was fast.

"To win, all you have to do is pick the ace," he said, his eyes as mischievous as a crow's when it's about to play a trick.

I studied the backs of the cards so long Calvin lost patience. "We haven't got all day, Eli. For the Lord's sake, take one. They won't bite."

I shut my eyes and grabbed. My card turned out to be the jack.

Calvin smiled and scooped up the cards. He shuffled them and laid them back down. "Go ahead, Eli. Try again."

This time I came up with the two of spades. Once more Calvin shuffled and I picked. I tried over and over again, but no matter how close I watched him shuffle those cards, I never once picked the ace of hearts. After seven tries, I gave up.

"You're just too good," I muttered. "I can't beat you."

Calvin smiled and sat back. "That's correct, Eli. You can't beat me. No one can. Let me demonstrate."

Shuffling slowly, he showed me how he used those quick fingers of his to substitute a second jack of diamonds for the ace of hearts. By the time he told me to pick a card, he'd tucked the ace up his sleeve. No wonder I never won.

"Where did you learn such a dirty way of cheating?" I asked him.

Calvin frowned as if he didn't care for my choice of words. "It's a game my father taught me."

"Why, you told me your daddy was a man among men, the best cardplayer ever, better even than Doc Holliday," I said, too disgusted to watch my tongue. "It appears to me Mr. Calvin Thaddeus Featherbone, Senior, was nothing but a common low-down cardsharp. No wonder he got himself shot!"

Calvin's face flushed. For a moment I thought he was going to explode like a stick of dynamite, but instead he took a deep breath and said, "Confound it, Eli, don't climb on that high horse of yours. I need you to play a small part in the game."

I shoved my chair back and got to my feet. "Oh no, not me," I said. "I don't aim to get myself shot by some old coot like Roscoe Suggs."

Calvin leaped up and caught me. "Listen here, Elijah Bates. People who gamble are greedy fools. They don't deserve your sympathy."

Keeping hold of me, he dragged me outside. In a kindlier voice, he said, "We'll make money fast playing three-card monte. That means we'll arrive in Tinville sooner."

I quit struggling then and let Calvin lead me down the street. Much as I disliked the idea of cheating, I wanted to get to Tinville as quickly as possible. And that rascal knew it.

"All you have to do is stand in the back of the crowd and watch," Calvin said as sweet as honey. "After three or four players lose, people are bound to accuse me of cheating. When they do, push your way to the front and ask to play. I'll say no, you're too young, but you insist. Eventually I'll give up and take your money."

He paused and grinned at me. "I'll make sure you pick the ace of hearts, Eli. When the crowd sees you win, they'll clamor to play."

Without returning Calvin's jaw-stretching grin, I nodded glumly and trudged along beside him. As far as schemes go, I suppose it could have been worse. At least it didn't sound like I'd get shot.

C
ALVIN'S NEW SCHEME STARTED OUT FAIRLY
well. He found an old wooden box, set it on end near one of the busier saloons, and positioned himself behind it. He'd washed up on the train and slicked his hair back and dusted off his shirt and trousers as well as he could, but any fool could tell he was down on his luck. I supposed his looks might help. Who would expect a young man as pale and handsome as curly-headed Calvin Featherbone to be a cheating, lying rascal?

While Caesar and I hung around in the background, trying to look inconspicuous, Calvin drew a crowd with a spiel that went like this. Holding up three cards, he fanned them this way and that to attract attention.

"Gentlemen," he called out, "you see before you a poor young man desperately in need of money. I hold my heart in my hand, sirs." With that, he waved
the ace of hearts. "Take a chance and see if you can draw my heart from a pile of three. Keep close watch now."

Throwing the cards face down, Calvin shuffled them with those agile fingers of his. "Here's the heart," he cried, slipping it in and out of the cards so fast my eyes were dazzled. "Now here. Now there. Now where?"

He paused and smiled at the growing mob of bearded miners, Chinese railroad workers, and travelers between trains like us. I expected one of them to holler, "It's up your sleeve, you lying little cheat," but no one said a word.

"You win if you take my heart," Calvin went on in a softer voice. "I win if I keep my heart. Your chances are one in three, gentlemen. Mine are two in three, which gives me the edge, I admit."

Flourishing the ace of hearts, he surveyed the crowd. "All you need to beat the odds are sharp eyes, gentlemen. Come, who'll give me five dollars to steal my heart away?"

After some hesitancy, a scruffy miner stepped forward and slapped a five-dollar gold coin on the box top. "I reckon I can affort to part with that and a whole lot more if I have to."

I held my breath when the miner lost, but instead of accusing Calvin of cheating, the fool went and slapped down another coin. After four tries, he gave up and headed toward the saloon.

A tall gent with the look of a salesman said the miner was blind in one eye and couldn't see out of the other. He insisted on laying down twenty dollars, thinking he'd win the miner's losses as well as Calvin's. Naturally he lost too.

This went on for quite a while. After Calvin had won more money than I'd seen in my whole entire life, some folks started grumbling.

"It's mighty peculiar nobody wins but you, sir," the salesman said. Unlike the other losers, he'd hung around, watching one man after another empty his pockets on Calvin's box top.

This was my cue. With Caesar at my heels, I pushed my way timidly to the front of the crowd, apologizing for every foot I stepped on, minding my manners just as Calvin had instructed me to. He'd convinced me a body could get away with almost anything, including highway robbery, as long as he said "please" and "thank you."

When he saw me approach the box, Calvin frowned and shook his head. "I don't accept money from children," he said.

"But you're scarcely more than a child yourself, sir," I piped up. "Surely you must take pity on such as me and let me try my luck."

I put a silver dollar on the box. "It ain't much, but it's all I got, sir. You know it won't last me long, so what does it matter if I lose it now or later?"

A ripple of sympathy ran through the crowd,
especially from the ladies, who weren't gambling themselves but enjoying the spectacle of seeing rogues and rascals lose to a handsome young man like Calvin.

Calvin shook his head. "How could I sleep tonight knowing I'd taken your last dollar? Go to church, boy, as I should have done when I was your age. Pray to the Lord to help you. Don't fall into evil ways as I have."

At this, Caesar whined and nudged me with his nose as if he too was aiming to save my soul.

The murmuring grew a little louder. One lady said, "Let the child play. If he loses, I'll give him a dollar myself."

Before Calvin could accept her offer, a tall, thin gentleman stepped up to the box and laid down a ten-dollar gold piece. "I'll play for the boy," he said. "If I win, he can keep the money free and clear." He returned the silver dollar to my pocket, and the crowd clapped and whistled.

Calvin glanced at me, his face pale. He'd clipped the corner of the ace of hearts so I'd be sure to find it. If he put that card on the table, the stranger was bound to notice. It was clear Calvin would have to go on cheating. Either way, he was taking a risk, I thought, as the gentleman had a sharp-eyed, hollow-cheeked look that reminded me of a half-starved wolf.

"Well?" The gentleman eyed Calvin impatiently.
Or was it suspiciously? "Do you accept my offer or not?"

From the corner of my eye, I made a further study of the gentleman's appearance. He wore a fancy black coat over a white shirt, a black tie knotted loose around his neck. In its folds glittered a stone that might have been glass but more likely was a genuine diamond. On his head was a slouch hat. Its brim hid most of his face but not his fancy handlebar mustache, waxed to perfection, or his long brown hair.

A revolver hung on one hip for all to see. I didn't doubt for a moment he knew how to use it.

In short, the fellow was the very image of what Calvin himself wanted to be—handsome, well dressed, and dangerous. If he were to step off the train in Tinville, someone would run for the sheriff straightaway.

I felt as edgy as a dog in a thunderstorm, but if Calvin was rattled, he didn't show it. Without hesitating, he went into his routine of fast shuffling.

The gentleman's sharp eyes followed every move those hands made, but Calvin kept his patter going and then stood back to let the gentleman try his luck.

The gentleman studied the cards intently. Sunlight sparkled on the golden eagle he'd laid on the box. It was so quiet I thought I heard the fleas on Caesar's back hopping from one spot to another.

Finally the gentleman leaned over the crate and
picked a card. Quick as a wink, he held up the ace of hearts. Everyone in the audience gave a huge sigh of relief to see my good fortune.

Except me. I knew full well there was no ace among those three cards. It was up Calvin's sleeve. When the gentleman leaned over the crate, he must have slipped an ace out of his own sleeve.

It seemed Calvin had met his equal in tricks, maybe even his better. From the look on his face, the Gentleman Outlaw was no doubt thinking the same thing.

Taking a matching gold piece from Calvin, the gentleman turned to me with a smile and handed me the two coins. "Put these someplace safe," he said, eyeing Calvin. "The money's yours and yours alone, boy."

"Thank you, sir." I dropped the gold eagles into my overalls pocket, gazing into the gentleman's dark eyes all the while. It was a little like matching stares with a deadly snake.

Although I expected him to denounce Calvin as a fraud, he didn't utter a word. He simply stood there watching the Gentleman Outlaw begin his spiel again. Calvin's forehead was beaded with perspiration, but his fingers were as quick as ever and his voice didn't shake.

I admired his nerve. Doc Holliday himself couldn't have been more composed under pressure than Calvin Featherbone.

After a while, I remembered I was supposed to lie low till it was time to board the train late at night. If folks saw me with Calvin, they'd guess I was his accomplice. There was no telling what kind of ruckus that might cause.

I looked back once. The tall gentleman was still watching Calvin. I don't think either he or Calvin noticed my departure.

Using my silver dollar, I bought supper for Caesar and me and went over to the depot to wait for Calvin. A pretty little crescent moon smiled down at me from the starry sky, but the night air was cold. I was grateful to have Caesar beside me, big and warm.

To pass the time, I pulled my harmonica out of my pocket and began playing. Just for myself, not for money, enjoying the happy sounds I was making. No sad tunes tonight. We were rich, Calvin and me. Tomorrow we'd be on our way to Tinville.

All of a sudden, a tall figure in black stepped out of the shadows and sat on the baggage cart beside me. It was the mysterious gentleman, my benefactor. He'd moved so silently I hadn't even heard his footsteps.

'You play very well," he said in a voice honeyed by years in Dixie. "Tell me, do you know 'Shenandoah'?"

"Sure." I played the song nice and slow, bringing out all its sadness, and he sat beside me, smoking
one of those long, skinny cigars, a melancholy expression softening his bony features.

When I was done, he thanked me and asked if I still had the two gold eagles he'd given me.

I touched my pocket to feel their outline under the cloth. "'Course I do."

"I'm glad to hear it, boy," said he. "Because that's just about all you've got in this world."

I stared at him, thinking of the hundreds of dollars Calvin had collected from the townsfolk. I realized too that he knew there was a connection between Calvin and me. My mouth dried up and my heart beat faster. "What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "Where's Calvin? Has he been robbed?"

"The fool lost every cent at the faro table," the gentleman said. "I warned him the game was as rigged as three-card monte, but he insisted he could outsharp the dealer. Serves him right, I suppose."

I couldn't take in the man's words. "But Calvin's the best card player alive today," I stammered. "His daddy taught him everything he knew, and he was even better than Doc Holliday himself."

"Was he indeed?" The man's laughter turned to a cough. When he recovered, he reached into his pocket and gave me two more gold eagles. "If you plan to go on shilling for a tinhorn gambler, you'll need this, my boy."

My face turned so red it's a wonder it didn't light the night like a candle. "How the Sam Hill did you know Calvin and I were working together?"

The man laughed again. "I'd be a daisy if I failed to notice something so painfully obvious." He leaned closer and tapped my knee. "To tell the truth, your friend was fortunate he attracted a crowd of ignoramuses today. Three-card monte is a beginner's game, boy, a beginner's game. Tell Calvin not to try it in the streets of Durango or Silverton. He'll be run out of town on a rail."

Getting to his feet, the man gave Caesar a pat on the head. "My train's arriving," he said. "Farewell, young fellow. And good luck to you."

Touching the brim of his hat, my mysterious benefactor strode down the platform and vanished in the cloud of steam billowing out from under an incoming locomotive.

"Thank you, sir, thank you," I called, half tempted to follow him onto the train and beg him to take me to Tinville. He seemed worthier of my trust and gratitude than Calvin Featherbone.