The trip back to Lubbock was quiet and peaceful, especially compared to the trip we'd just finished. No outlaws, no Indians, no burned down way stations, and no passengers. We were bone tired by the time the trip was over, but we'd made it back in record time and had money to show for it.
Three nights later I was back in the same saloon, at the same poker table where Joe Brady had cleaned me out, playing with almost the same men. Pete Kramer had just folded, and that left Neal Russell, Joe Brady and me still in the game. As badly as poker had gone that last night before Joe and me left for Abilene, that's how good it had been ever since we got back from the trip to hell. I was playing like myself again, and Lady Luck had decided she was on speaking terms with me. I'd won the last five hands we'd played, and over the three-day stretch I was up over four thousand dollars. I was leaving for Amarillo in the morning, and it sure would be nice to take this last pot with me. Especially since there was almost fifteen hundred dollars in it.
"How many cards, Maverick?" Stew Bassett asked.
"Two." I slid my discards across the table and took the cards Stew gave me. I almost dropped them when I saw what they were – the two of spades and the King of Diamonds. The King didn't matter one bit – I already held the other three deuces. Joe Brady's hand from the night he beat me and left me with ten dollars on the table. The Lady was being ironic, and I almost laughed.
Brady shot me a curious look and asked for one card. Neal took three and almost as soon as he saw what they were, he threw them in. "Looks like it's just you two again," Stew pronounced, and I bet two hundred.
Joe kinda grunted, and I saw him throw four hundred dollar bills into the pot. "There's your two and two more."
'Oh no, not this again!' I thought, and decided I wasn't taking any chances this time. "Call," I laid down two bills and waited.
Brady had this crazy grin on his face as he laid his cards down. "Full house, sevens over Queens."
I couldn't help it; I burst out in great gales of laughter. "Hope this don't ruin your night, Brady," and I set those beautiful little deuces down on the table.
The look on Joe's face was priceless. "I'll be damned," he mumbled, and reignited my laughter. We'd traded winning hands from that last night before the stage trip, and I was gonna leave town with six thousand dollars in my wallet. I'd met and made a friend in Joe Brady, and I had four more stitches in my left arm. I figured I'd come out ahead this time, and couldn't wait to get to Amarillo and spend the next few days with my brother. Life doesn't get much better.
The End
