The Gambler

This is a story inspired by the song of the same name, written by Don Schlitz. Several artists have recorded it over the years, most famously, Kenny Rogers in 1978.

Chapter 1

The air was hot and humid, typical for midsummer, as Marshal Matt Dillon waited at the almost deserted Santa Fe depot in Wichita, Kansas. He had been in that town for just over a week. It had been a long week that involved testifying at a murder trial. Unpleasant as that had been, the worse knowledge, always there in the back of his mind, was that when he arrived back home in Dodge, the one person he really wanted to see would not be there.

The trial had gone well and his prisoner and been sentenced to death, but that was about the only thing that had turned out right. He had to stay in Wichita to witness the hanging, something he hated to do, and that had cost him an extra two days, not that he thought two days would have changed anything very much.

His thoughts went back to about a time about three weeks before. Kitty had arranged a vacation of sorts for the two of them. She was going to a friend's wedding in New Orleans and had convinced Matt to come along. The department certainly owed him a weeks leave and although he was not keen on big social gatherings, the thought of a week with Kitty to himself, away from the prying eyes of Dodge, was very appealing. Then the telegram had arrived. It was two days before they were supposed to leave and a man he had hunted down and sent to Wichita for trial, was scheduled to come up before the Judge in four days time. No way he could get out of it. He had to go to give evidence, after all he had witnessed the crime, hunted the man down and brought him in. He had been there in Wichita on other business when the murder took place. That was just his luck, it had come back to haunt him. Kitty had been less than understanding – in his opinion – about the whole affair. He had no choice in the matter and had to go to Wichita. He had not heard from her since. She had told him not to expect her to be there in Dodge when he got back, she didn't know when, or even if she would return. The last time he saw her, she was in her room over the Long Branch, packing clothes in a small trunk for the trip, all excited, then he broke the news to her. She had cried and then got angrier than he had ever seen her. She threw him out and slammed the door, telling him not to come back.

He did not see her after that. She never even came by the office, as she usually did, to say goodbye when he had to leave town for a few days.

The train was pulling in now and the noise from the steam engine broke into his reverie bringing him back to the present, cold and unwelcoming as it was. The locomotive ground and screeched its way to a halt and the Marshal, together with the few other people at the depot, climbed aboard. He walked through the first car and into the second. He found an empty window seat opposite a lone figure, an old man, dressed like a gambler. Right now the man was half asleep, Matt watched as he adjusted his hat to cover his eyes, indicating that he did not want to be disturbed.

Dillon took the vacant seat and stared through the window into the darkness beyond. He was tired after the stress of the day. He hated to watch a hanging even if the man was a murderer. It always left him feeling ill and bad tempered. He leaned back in his seat and, closing his eyes, tried to shut the world out for a while.

The miles ticked slowly by. Neither the Gambler nor the Marshal found the inner peace needed for sleep. Eventually the gambler sat up and looked at his fellow traveller.

Matt sensed eyes being focused on him and lifted his hat to see what was going on.

"'Evening Mister, you need something?" he asks.

"I was just watchin' you that's all. Something's troubling you bad, I'd say."

Matt said nothing, just sat there, the same picture running through his mind over and over again. Dodge without Kitty – well it wasn't something he liked to think about.

"I'm not trying to pry or anything. I just know a troubled man when I see one."

Matt continued to look at the man but said nothing.

The gambler was unperturbed by the lack of a response and calmly resumed his vigil, staring blankly out of the window, his eyes unseeing.

After a while he returned his gaze to the man sitting opposite from him.

"You know I've been a gambler all my life and there's a few things it has taught me. One is that a man's eyes can tell you a lot about what he's thinking and also a lot about who that man is. I think I pretty well know who you are now."

Time passes slowly. The Gambler just sits there, then he coughs, a bone rattling cough. It goes on for a while until finally he catches his breath.

"Mister, you got any whisky on you."

"No but I can go get you some, hang on a minute,"

The Marshal gets up from his seat and makes his way to the next carriage where there is a small bar. He buys a bottle of whisky and then heads back to his uninvited travelling companion. The man is still sitting there. His cough seems to have subsided.

"Here try this."

The Gambler grabs at the whisky bottle and gratefully swallows down several large gulps before he removes it from his lips.

"I'm indebted to you." He says wiping his sleeve across his mouth. He rests for a minute before continuing.

"Listen Mister I don't know what is troubling you, and I'm not about to ask, but I am gonna give you a little advice. There's something you learn playing the cards for a living, something that applies to most of life. It took me a while to figure it out but for what its worth I'll pass it on to you." He coughs again and takes another swallow from the bottle before continuing.

"There are some cards in the deck that are more important to you than others, you need to hang on to them. Some you don't really need, you can get along without them, and so you can let them go. The hard part is learning to tell the difference. It's the same in life, some things are real important and you can't let them slip through your fingers, other things, well you don't have to be so careful with. The secret in poker and in life is to be able to tell the difference between the two."

He starts to cough again.

"You alright, stranger?" The Marshal asks him.

"Yeh I'll be better in a minute." He takes another swig from the bottle and clears his throat.

"You know what, I've gambled all my life. Enjoyed it too. Now, well…. I ain't doing so well. The Doc in Wichita told me I got about three months to live. Guess the best thing I could look forward to would be to go to sleep one night and just not wake up."

Not much you can say to that, so Matt just sat quietly and waited.

It had started to get daylight, they would be in Dodge soon. He couldn't help but think about the gamblers words. You had to figure what was important in your life and hang on to it; he sure hadn't done a good job at that. The most important thing in his life had slipped through his fingers all right, and he did nothing to stop it from happening. The Gambler's words rang very true.

He stared out the window at the early dawn. The landscape was familiar. Another half hour or so and they would be in Dodge. He would be alone. He leaned back and closed his eyes. This badge he wore and the woman he loved, both were important to him but somehow it seemed he would have to choose one over the other. Somewhere in there the gamblers words had a lot of sense. Some things were so important, you had to hang on to them no matter what, other things you just had to let go. It sounded easy, but it was far from simple. Unconsciously his fingers drifted to the big badge on his shirt. So many responsibilities came with it. To begin with he had accepted them willingly, now they were becoming a burden, still it was hard to just throw them off. It went deeper than just taking off a star, so many people depended on him now, that was what he couldn't walk away from. At least that's what he told himself.

"Dodge City next stop. Next stop Dodge City"

The announcement from the conductor interrupted his thinking. He looked over at the Gambler. The old man must have fallen asleep. He looked more closely; he could not see any rise and fall of his chest. He stood up and leaned over to shake the man's shoulder. No response, the man was limp. He lifted an eyelid, no reaction. The gambler seemed to have got his last wish. He had gone to sleep and not woken up.

He found the conductor and explained what had happened. They could take the body off at Dodge. It might be best if he moved the other passengers to the next car.