I must have been about fourteen the first time I saw the Lady in Red. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and I had no idea who she was. I was playin' poker in the Little Bend Bar; my father was there at another table. I hadn't been playing real well and I was gettin' discouraged, the way only a fourteen-year-old boy can.
I'd made a deal with Pappy that I would find a job if I couldn't make money playin' cards every night during the summer. And on this particular night I was down to my last six dollars. That's all that stood between me and painful employment.
Oh, it wouldn't really be painful, but to a fourteen-year-old that wanted to do nothing more than play cards and sleep all summer it would be the worst fate imaginable. So I was in a most desperate state when the next game started.
And that's when I saw her. Tall and lithe, she was dark haired and dark eyed, and wore a magnificent long red gown. What a woman, much less one that looked like that, was doing inside an ancient saloon with a dirt floor, was beyond me. All I could do was stare and wait for my eyes to fall out.
No one else at the table I was sitting at gave any indication that she was visible to them. I was sure I was losin' my mind, but as long as I could see her I didn't care. She was standing at the end of the bar, doing nothing more than watching the goings-on inside this tiny local saloon. I felt like something was about to happen, but I had no idea what.
We were playin' five-card draw, my favorite game, and I couldn't believe the hand I'd been dealt when I picked up my cards. A king, three sevens and a jack. It was difficult to keep a straight face – while all I'd gotten was three of a kind, it was still the best hand I'd held all night. Bidding was small – these were local farmers and cattlemen I was playin' against, not professional gamblers. By the time we'd bid around and drew our cards, I was down to three dollars. I was sweatin' somethin' fierce, and when I looked up from my cards my eyes locked with the woman's right before I turned my cards over. I'd discarded the king and the jack and drawn an ace – and the seven of hearts.
It was hard at that age not to show emotion. I was just learning the meaning of 'poker-face' and even though I understood it, sometimes it was difficult to practice it. I did everything I could to remain emotionless and unreadable, and I guess I succeeded as much as I was capable of succeeding. The bidding went around the table again, and by the time it got back to me all I could do was bet the last dollar I had and pray.
There were three of us left vying for the pot, which was worth about twenty-five or thirty dollars at this point. I held my breath as my two opponents lay down their cards. The first one had three nines. Art Murphy's hand consisted of a straight, ace high. I called my hand as "four sevens" and watched Murphy's face fall. I could feel my entire body trembling as I raked in the pot, but I remained straight-faced and sober as best as any fourteen-year-old who'd just had his entire summer saved could. I never said a word; I wasn't capable of normal speech at that exact moment.
After I gathered in my winnings I looked up to see the expression on the Lady in Red's face. She was gone. I searched the room frantically, certain she couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, but that's exactly what had happened. There was no trace of her anywhere in the saloon.
The rest of the night was almost anti-climactic. My winning ways continued, and by the time Pa was ready to call it a night I had won upwards of sixty dollars, a fortune to me. "Good night, boy?" he asked as we walked out into the crisp night air.
"A very good night, Pappy," I replied, not sure if I should ask my question or not. We mounted our horses and headed for home, and we were more than halfway there before I worked up the courage to ask. "Pappy, did you see her?"
"See who, Bartley?"
"Uh . . . the lady that was in the saloon."
"Tweren't no lady in the saloon tonight, Bartley." His voice was firm and steady, like he was absolutely positive of the words he'd spoken.
"Sure there was, Pappy. She was beautiful. Tall and dark-haired, and she wore the most brilliant red dress. She looked right at me. You didn't see her?"
Pappy didn't answer right away, and I thought he was gonna tell me I was plum crazy. There was just enough moonlight for me to see the smile that spread across his face when he answered me. "No, son, I didn't see her. But I'm sure you did. Do you know who she was?"
I shook my head before answering. "No, sir, no idea. Who was she?"
"That, my boy, was Lady Luck. I doubt if that's the last time you'll ever see her. She tends to show up when you least expect it."
"But Pa . . . "
"No buts, Bartley. Take my word for it."
"Yes, sir."
How could I believe him? He was telling me that I'd seen something that wasn't real, like Santa Claus. Then again, how could I not believe him? This was Beauregard Maverick, my Pappy, a man that had never lied to me, no matter how painful the truth might be. I chewed on his words the rest of the way home, before deciding that until I could prove otherwise, I would accept what my father had told me.
It might have been my first encounter with the Lady in Red, but it sure wouldn't be my last.