Jack took another shot of whiskey, feeling the warm, burning sensation pass down through his body. He nodded his head to the bartender, and the glass filled up.
"It's your deal, mister," the man from the opposite side of the table growled, just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.
Jack gave an exasperated sigh, the whiskey feeling heavy on his mind. He downed another glass, being sure to breathe out the horrible after taste. "Right," he said, putting down the glass.
It soon became obvious that Jack was in no state to shuffle cards, much less deal them. He did his best, but the cards soon scattered clumsily and were coming up faces showing.
"Damnit," Jack cursed under his breath, his speech becoming slurred, the whiskey doing its work. "Let me try again." He tried to pass off an easy-going grin, hoping to lighten the mood. Instead, the growling man from across the table simply glared into Jack's drunken, stupid smile.
Jack dealt the cards correctly this time, looking down to a pair of Aces, trying to maintain a calm and neutral face. The man to his left checked, the growling man bet ten, the man to his right called, and finally Jack called. The flop came out a six of clubs, eight of hearts, and a Jack of diamonds.
No worries, I'd still have high card if someone has a pair right now, Jack thought, smiling on the inside. The man on his left bet twenty- Twenty! Jack thought surprised, a hefty bet to be laying down right after the flop, he must have something. The Growling Man called, after a moments' hesitation, and the man on Jack's right folded. Jack called, using all of the self control he had learned to keep a calm face.
The turn came up an Ace of spades. Yes, three of a kind! Jack thought, his face again struggling to maintain its calm. The man on Jack's left again bet fifty-Fifty! He must be bluffing! That's the only explanation. Jack decided that he would apply pressure to the man, and as the Growler laid down fifty, Jack counted out a hundred in chips, pushing it into the pot.
"Raise," He declared, facing the man on his left, "to you, sir."
The man puffed his cheeks, letting air out, throwing his cards down on the table. "Fold," he said hopelessly.
Now it was just the Growling Man and Jack. "Fifty dollars to you, sir," Jack said, with just the faintest sneer of contempt. This slight push had done all that he had hoped it would do. Jack had a hunch that this man would not take kindly to the challenge of manhood Jack had laid down.
"Raise," the Man grunted. "All in," He pushed all of his into the pot. "Two hundert fifteen." He resumed his glare.
Jack looked down, only having one hundred and fifty chips left. "I'll call. One hundred and fifty." Pushing it in to the pot, barely noticing that a small crowd had gathered around the table.
The Man sneered in contempt. "You got something that's worth sixty five bucks?" Jack held the gaze, not daring to break eye contact, yet running all of the possible options in his head. I got my horse," Jack Marston nodded outside the window; to wear his father's yellow stallion was hitched up.
"My father rode clear through Mexico in that stallion," Jack proposed. "Fought with the rebels under Abraham Reyes against Colonel Allende. Stallion, fast one, too. My father shot down Dutch van der Linde off of the back of that horse. I'd say that's worth sixty five. Here," Jack laid down his father's old Schofield revolver. "Just in case it isn't."
The Growler itched his unshaved chin contemplating. "Alright, you little shit," He growled menacingly. "You're on. Let's see that river."
Jack burned one, and then turned over the river card, a Jack of Hearts. Full House! Jack almost cheered. "Lets see 'em." Jack demanded. They both put their cards down at the same time, Jack beaming with pride.
"You cheatin' son of a bitch!" The Man hissed. "You lousy, cheatin, sonuvabitch!" He spat furiously.
Jack frowned, looking over at his cards, a four and a ten. "You had nothing." He said, frowning, contemplating what possible hand the man could've been hoping for. "Why on Earth did you pull all in?"
The Man continued spitting, cursing, and stomping his feet, haven risen from his chair. "Look, don't be angry because you can't play cards worth a damn." Jack taunted, gathering up his winnings.
The Man turned, eyes blazing and Jack knew where his mind was going before his hand did. He immediately went for the Schofield which he had returned to his holster.
BAM
The single bullet in the Man's forehead was still smoking, and his body hit the hard wood floor with a hard thud. Jack hadn't risen from his chair, the muzzle still smoking, he gave a slightly nonchalant puff of air to rid the smoke from the heating gun. Holstering the weapon, and collecting the money, he rose from his chair. Nodding to the barman, he tossed a shiny coin at the man.
"Sorry for the mess," he muttered, walking past the bartender's bewildered face; he took another seat at the far end of the bar, away from the crowd that had a look of shock on all of their faces.
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate another drink," He spoke out loud to the bartender, who immediately scurried to find another bottle of whiskey.
He smelled her musky scent before he was aware of her soft footsteps.
"That one's on me, Hank," a female voice rang from nearby Jack's back.
"Nope, that one's on me, Hank." He turned to the voice. "Thanks anyway darlin'," His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw her.
Light brown hair, small hopeful brown eyes, and slightly pouting lips. Her body was slender, and lean, with full breasts and hips, a vision to behold. Her corset supported her breasts, and her stockings revealed her toned and conditioned legs.
"You sure I can't change your mind? I don't mean to be rude, but Charlie over there-" she gestured to the body on the floor,"- often caused trouble around here, She smiled almost seductively, but her eyes gave a kind of sincerity that could not be betrayed.
Jack finally gave in and shrugged, "If you say so, pull up some bar, ma'am," He turned to face the bartender, draining his glass of whiskey.
"Don't mind if I do," she sat down and ordered a glass of wine.
"So if you don't mind me asking about that pistol…?" She started.
"I wouldn't mind if you started with your name…." Jack interrupted abruptly. His voice had turned defensive upon her inquiry of his name, and she had noticed.
The woman gave a slight blush, hardly noticeable with the lack of makeup she had applied, though she hardly would've needed it.
"My name is Jenny. Jenny Callahan, and you are?" She offered politely.
"Jack Marston," He returned, taking another glass of whiskey.
She gave a pause as she saw him take that whiskey with ease. "If you wouldn't mind my asking where you learned to drink whiskey like that, Mr. Marston," She gave another polite smile.
Jack gave another chuckle, "I suppose it's an acquired taste, Jenny," He looked up and saw her look of disbelief and gave another soft chuckle. "I used to run with some of my father's old friends down south, as well as a particularly drunken Irishman."
Jenny gave an exhilarated laugh, "Now that sounds like quite a story! I didn't know any one Irishman being drunk was so particular!"
Jack gave a confused look. "Well, I say he's particularly drunk, because I never actually saw him sober," Jack gave another chuckle, smirking into the bottom of his whiskey glass.
"I'm sure that shall prove most troublesome when he eventually does sober up," Jenny suggested, taking a sip of her wine, savoring the taste.
"Shot himself to death yesterday." Jack said, with another glass of whiskey.
"I'm sorry," Her excitement dying like a flame being blown out. She looked up with renewed confidence. "I always thought your father had a kind heart, and he helped me when I was being foolish."
Jack took an immediate interest, "How did you know my father?"
Jenny bit her lip, obviously nervous. "We were on a train from Blackwater to Armadillo, I was with a preacher and he was alone. I remember these old ladies from the East were jawing about how 'relieved they were that civilization had been brought to the West,'" She did an old lady voice when quoting them, and spoke in a voice that had recalled this event several times. "He later found me out in the desert, dying of thirst, and brought me back into town." She ended it with a smile.
"How long ago was this? And what were you doing out in the desert?" Jack now had his most full attention on Jenny, forgetting his whiskey entirely.
She gave a long sigh, "This was about three years ago," She looked down, as if what she was saying was difficult. "I was so sure that Heaven was waiting for me in that desert, I was delirious. He saved me, and it was really by chance that he happened to be there at the time."
Jack gave a snort, "My dad," He said proudly. "You must've been about my age then, if I'm eighteen now, how old are you?"
Jenny gave a wink, "Twenty one come April, you young pup," Her voice had the faintest trace of the most beautiful country accent.
"And, if you don't mind me asking, how did you come to work at a saloon?" Jack said, gesturing to her attire.
She blushed again, "A girl's gotta work, Jack. And I wasn't about to sleep on the streets of Armadillo, not with those angry men out there."
"Hm." Jack said, smiling contentedly. "It's nice to run into someone who had been on the good side of my dad during that time. It makes me feel proud of him,"
"I remember that I was just so confused, unable to find the distinction between a loving act and a hateful one. And as a working girl, that distinction hasn't become any clearer," she said frowning.
Jack took another sip of whiskey, "It certainly is a complicated land we live in. Do a man wrong, he'll shoot you for it. Do a man right; he still might shoot you for it."
"But at least you know the difference between right and wrong." She said, nodding her head in a definite manner.
Jack smiled flirtatiously and held his glass towards her wine glass, "To the difference between right and wrong," he toasted.
She smiled, and bumped glasses with him.
"So what line of work do you find yourself in these days, Mr. Marston," She said, sipping her wine. "I'm sure the outlawing business must be stale,"
Jack sighed, "I find myself splitting my time, lending a hand to old Marshall Johnson, maintaining a ranch by myself at Great Plains, etcetera etcetera…." He trailed off.
Jenny smiled. "Sounds like some of the most interesting parts would be in the 'etcetera etcetera' part."
Jack smiled, purposefully misleading. "Not exactly,"
"So you traveled all the way to Blackwater from the Great Plains just to play some poker?" Jenny chided. "You must be hurtin for cash,"
"No, actually," Jack said, getting up from his seat. "I'm here meeting up with a government agent,"
"Well now that is interesting," Jenny said turning in her seat to face him. "Now what would a small time rancher want with an agent of our beloved government?" She said sarcastically.
Jack left some money on the table and reached for his last whiskey. "It's slightly personal, but this man will lead me to Edgar Ross," Jack murmured, facing Jenny and preparing for a rushed good-bye.
"And what's Edgar Ross done to you?" Jenny asked.
"Do you always ask so many questions?" Jack countered defensively.
Jenny gave another laugh and stood with Jack, "Well when such a dark, young, mysterious figure like yourself comes a-waltzing in my door, some questions come to mind," She blinked flirtingly.
"Well ma'am, this," he put his hat back on in a huff and finished his whiskey, "'Edgar Ross', orchestrated me and my mother being kidnapped so as to ascertain leverage from my father to do Ross's bidding against some old friends of my pa. Upon fulfilling his deal and securing his freedom, Ross gathered a posse and shot my father in his own barn, while me and my mother escaped." Jack gave the tale of his grand vendetta with a calm forcefulness, she had asked after all.
Jenny gave a sharp intake of breath in surprise. "Well…." She started. "I suppose that a government agent can be much more of a threat than an outlaw, in all that it represents that is, you know what I mean?"
"Yes ma'am, I agree. And believe me,"Jack's mind was far away for several long moments and then he declared to the open air, "I'm going to be the worst outlaw that those federal boys have ever seen. My face will be what they see before they close their eyes for sleep. " Jack said, heading for the door, his movement only slightly slurred by the liquor.
"Mr. Marston!" Jenny rushed to catch up. "Do you think, that is after you done kilt yourself a government agent; making yourself an outlaw and a fugitive, that maybe you could come by and visit me sometime?" Jenny said hopefully.
Jack simply tipped his hat, smiled and said, "If you can make it to MacFarlane's Ranch in Hennigean's Stead, ask for Bonnie and tell her I sent you. Stay there until I send word,"
RED DEAD REDEMPTION