Chapter 2 – Suckered In

"Let me say that again, just in case you didn't hear it the first time – NO." Of course that was Bret's answer to my proposal, but he wasn't seeing the whole picture clearly.

"Bret – pay attention. Dandy has a hotel room. Not just a hotel room, a suite . . . with a bathtub. As in we could get clean and change clothes. And if it's a suite it has a sitting room, which means it probably has a settee or two. Which means we'd have somewhere to sleep. And all we have to do is listen to Dandy weave one of his intricate webs of deceit. Bath. Clean. Bed. What more could you ask for?"

Bret smiled, a wicked little grin. "No Dandy Jim Buckley?"

I shook my head. "Not possible. Be reasonable, would ya? I'm dirty and tired and hungry. I'm sure you're the same. We can solve those problems with just a little tolerance of one of our fellow poker players."

"Bartley – this is not one of our fellow poker players. This is Dandy Jim Buckley. THE Dandy Jim Buckley. Liar, cheat, con man, gambler. Remember, England threw him out."

I was still shakin' my head. "England had nothin' to do with Dandy comin' here. You know it was his own choice."

"If you wanna call bein' chased out of the country by your own Pappy a choice. Probably with a pistol, too."

I was losing the battle, but not the war. "Bath. Clean. Bed." I hoped I didn't have to keep repeating those three words, but I would if it was necessary. Until one of us either fell asleep or collapsed from the weight of the dirty clothes we had on.

Bret sighed. Something was getting to him; whether it was my persistence or the thought of sleep didn't matter, as long as he caved in eventually. He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear, "I wonder if this is what Momma had in mind when she told me to take care of you?" He waited just a few seconds before he said, "Alright. But if Dandy gets crazy I'm not stayin' there."

"I won't let him, I promise. C'mon, he's still outside."

With great reluctance Bret followed me, and wonder of wonders, Buckley was just where I'd left him. He couldn't help but grin when he saw big brother. "Maverick," he acknowledged.

"Buckley," Bret replied. "Let's see this hotel suite."

For once, Jim didn't answer back with a remark of his own. And the look on his face was somewhere between amusement and outright terror; whether the expression was due to Bret's presence or the threat of being made to 'disappear' I don't know, and I didn't care. I wanted both of them on their best behavior until I was clean, fed and rested. After that I'd deal with the consequences.

Jim did, indeed, have a suite at the Golden Slipper Hotel. And what a glorious suite it was, with not one but two full-size settees, a deliciously big bathtub, and enough space for three grown men to wander around in. Jim got the first bath; after all, it was his room. Bret and me cut the cards for the second bath and I won, but I let my brother go ahead of me just to keep him happy. It must have worked, at least for a while, because the sour expression that had been on his face since he first saw Jim bein' thrown out of the saloon disappeared and he was the brother I'd grown up with.

Thirty minutes later Dandy Jim was dressed and it was Bret's turn in the tub. At least Dandy was in clean clothes, but his boots were still a mess. "Gonna hafta polish those," I told him.

"Who, me?"

"They ain't gonna clean themselves," I reminded him.

"But I always have the boot black downstairs do that," he protested.

"At midnight?"

He looked taken aback. "I'm guessing the answer is no?"

"Very perceptive, Dandy."

"I can't very well wear them like this, Bart."

I sighed. There were times Dandy even got on my last nerve. "Get me your washbowl and a towel." I'd rather turn my boots over to the boot black, too, but you better know how to take care of your own. I wasn't gonna polish those suckers of his, but at least I could clean 'em up a little. If Dandy was in a state about dirt on his boots he'd be unbearable – and Bret would probably kill him.

By the time my brother was finished, Jim's boots were once more respectable looking. Not perfect, but a whole lot better than before. Then it was my turn in the bath, and I didn't take half the time Jim did. Clean clothes felt wonderful after the mud-caked ones I had on, and by the time I re-emerged in the sitting room I was surprised to find my friend and my brother clinging to their neutral corners in preparation for the next round. Actually everything was very quiet, and I wondered if a truce had been called. I didn't give either of them time to get started. "Are we ready to find a café?"

"Yes," Jim answered.

"Yep," came back from Bret.

We stopped at the front desk and I found out there was an all-night café right across the street – Lanie's. We hurried over and wasted no time ordering; evidently Jim was as hungry as we were. He even drank coffee with us, having become Americanized when it came to his choice of beverage. Before the food arrived, I attempted to get the full story of his ejection from the saloon.

"I was minding my own business at the roulette wheel when I noticed something was wrong. It was out of balance, but by such a small amount it would take a trained eye to notice it."

"Or somebody who knows how to rig a roulette wheel." Of course, that was from Bret.

Dandy chose to ignore the remark and continued. "I notified the croupier and he pretended not to hear me. So I notified him just a little louder, but he persisted in ignoring me. That's when I found the floor manager, and it escalated until the man was positively belligerent. He told me to get out, and when I wouldn't, he threatened me with permanent disappearance and had me removed."

"Is that all?" I asked innocently.

"Is that all? The man threatened my life. I take that seriously."

"There's a real simple solution to this, Buckley," and for once I thought Bret was actually gonna offer something that might help.

"And what would that be, Maverick?"

"Find someplace else to gamble. Or quit playin' roulette."

Jim turned to me. "Honestly, is this what you have to put up with?"

"Nope," I answered truthfully. "Just when you're around. What about the saloon manager? Or the owner, if that fails?"

That's when Bret finally got interested. "What if they're all crooked?"

"That's when we take your advice and find someplace else to gamble," I reminded him.

"Unacceptable," Jim interjected. "That means there are poor unsuspecting souls out there who don't stand a chance."

That remark made even me skeptical. "Since when do you care about anybody other than James Buckley?"

"Well, I . . . I never said I did. But they threatened me, Bart. They threatened to kill me. What would that make you want to do?"

I hated to admit it; he had a point. But what I wanted to do and what I would do are two different things, and this wasn't even my fight. "Dandy . . . "

That's when the unexpected happened. Bret spoke up. "I hate like hell to admit it, Bart, but Buckley's right. If the roulette wheel's rigged, the whole place is rigged. Somethin' needs to be done. Even if it's only a visit to the marshal." Bret grinned at me. "And close your mouth. You look kinda stupid with it hangin' open like that."

I did just what big brother told me to do. "Alright then. Let's start with the marshal and see where we get." Not very far, as we were soon to find out.