Chapter 2

That evening, I strolled into a different saloon and looked around for a poker game I might join. The first one I looked at (there were three tables of poker in progress), the pro held up his hand so that his palm faced me. That was as emphatic a “not welcome” sign as I could imagine.

I looked around for some other action and was waved to a table with only four players. I wondered if this could be another one of those high-stakes games like I played in this afternoon. When I got close, the pro waved at me to take a seat, and I did. Yeah, this was another $1 ante and no limit betting game. What the Hell, I did so well this afternoon, I decided to join in. I flipped in my ante and dropped some silver and gold coins on the table.

The first hand I was dealt was almost unbelievable: I was holding four kings and a jack! This made me a little suspicious since my luck had never run so good as that on my first hand in my history of playing poker. The only thing that could beat me was four aces or a straight flush; a royal flush was impossible because I was holding all of the kings. Was this hand supposed to make me go wild and bet all of the money that I had on me? That would have been close to $1,000, and I was not about to do that.

When it came my turn to bet, I raised the bet with a Double-Eagle. That should scare off anybody not in on the scam, and one man dropped out rather than bet that much money. Okay, I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the other three men, including the pro, were still on my list. Actually, if this was a scam, then the pro had to be in on it because he was the one dealing the cards.

Well, I did not raise the betting any more, but I did stay in until the pot rose to $115. Another man dropped out at that point, and I was not sure about him, but the longer I sat there, the more it looked like I was being set up. The pot seemed monstrous, but I was only in for $35, and I could easily afford to drop that. I could even afford to drop $150 to find out what was going on. Therefore, I doggedly stuck to the game and refused to fold.

The other two men dropped out when the pot got to $171, and it was now just between me and the dealer. I could see him start to sweat as we continued to play. He must have been sure that I would fold by now with the stakes so high, but I was determined to see this hand through to the bitter end.

The pro had been doing all of the raising of the bets lately, and I had just been staying with him to keep him from winning by default. He suddenly shouted, “God damn it! I can’t keep this up! He dropped his cards face down and flopped back in his seat. I laid out my four kings and reached for his discard. He only had two pair—nothing to justify staying in as long as he did! I pulled my winnings toward me and crossed my arms. That put my hands very close to my gun butts just in case the face off twisted in that direction.

I said, “Okay, Mr. Poker Professional, I would appreciate you explaining to me what was going on. No way would somebody with a measly two pair stay in that long. There has to be a reason for what you did. Flip over the other hands so I can see what these other gentlemen had to play with.”

All of the men had held hands that were even worse than what the dealer was holding. The first man to drop out said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Albert, but all of this was my doing. I was testing you. When you walked up, Mr. Hanson, the dealer, did a masterful job of dealing you cards from the bottom of the deck. We had been waiting on you to pull this here test. All of these gentlemen were in on the trick I was playing.

“Now, before you get mad, let me explain why I did this. By the way, please keep the pot; you certainly won it fair and square. I am Johnathon Smith, a member of the Cotton Center Gentleman’s Club, and I heard how you played this afternoon at the Pieces of Eight Saloon. You aroused my curiosity, and I wanted to know if you were really that good. I set up this here little test to satisfy my curiosity. Well, you proved to me that you were that good, and I would like to invite you to join me at the Club as soon as we can get there.

“There are several poker players waiting for you to play a few hours of poker to test their mettle. I hope that you will forgive my chicanery and satisfy our curiosity. Right now, I will give you $1,000 to honor us with your presence, and, of course, you may keep whatever over that you might win tonight. Will you come?”

Would I come? Hell, that was what I had been aiming for all along. I diddled around a little bit just to make Mr. Johnathon Smith sweat a little bit, but I did let him talk me into joining him for a walk to the waiting poker game. The trip was short, and all I found out was that Smith was sort of the Entertainment Chairman of the club. Therefore, it was up to him to find new blood to be sucked by the members of the club as they demonstrated their poker prowess. Oh, man, I was looking forward to having some fun this evening and getting to New Orleans even quicker than I had expected.

Four men were waiting for me around a poker table. Two seats were free. Smith sat at one of the available spots and signaled me to take the other one. Smith was to be the dealer for tonight’s action. I was introduced to all of the men at the table, and it was obvious by their dress that they had more money than I had ever even imagined. Uh-oh, maybe I had been a little too sure of myself. This game was $5 ante and no limit. No mention was made of table stakes, so I knew that these men were out for blood: mine! Nevertheless, I dropped $500 in double-eagles on the table and said that I was ready to play.

Smith dealt after the ante, and, as I expected, I had a bust of a hand. I dropped out immediately because I knew that I could do nothing with those cards. Two more hands like that were about what I expected, and I was right. However, after that, I started to get decent cards and began to win enough hands to recover my losses. We had been playing for about 45 minutes, and I was now ready to show what I could do.

I had been watching closely every one of the other players, and I noted that everyone of them, but one, had a little twitch or quirk that gave him away when he thought that he had a winning hand. The one man, a certain Beau LeFouche, who did not have the give-away signal never won very much, but he did not lose very much, either. I was sure that he was the one I had to be very careful with.

Play continued for another hour, and I started to win about half the hands. LeFouche won about a quarter of the hands, and the rest was distributed more or less evenly around the table. By this time, I had won a few big pots, and I had over $1,500 in gold on the table in front of me. Just to make room on the table, I dumped $500 into a pocket. This raised some eyebrows, but all LeFouche did was to grin.

We continued to play, and I noticed that a few of the men began to look a bit uncomfortable. By this time, we had attracted a large body of spectators. One of the men finally gave up and said, “This ain’t my night. Does somebody else want to take my place?”

This precipitated a long pause until Smith said, “Hey, Oscar, how about sitting in for Ezra? He has had it for the night.”

An older man nodded and took his place at the table. After introductions, play resumed. Oscar Blount was a better player than Ezra Horn, and won a little bit. It was enough at least to keep him in the game. Meanwhile, the rate of winning still hung at about where it had been for the past hour or so. In fact, I soon dumped another $500 in gold into my pocket.