Momma's Gift
Chapter 10 – Building a New Bridge
It didn't take long for word to get around about what happened between the Maverick brothers. Later that morning both Big John and Jacob came by, one offering sympathy and the other a job. The sympathy was accepted and so was the employment. Jacob needed someone to help him with the blacksmithing that he still did for the miners and Bret was flat broke. Much as he hated anything that remotely resembled work, it sometimes proved necessary just to survive. Besides, it would take him a few days to make enough to get his poker funds reestablished. Then he could go back to playing cards and keeping an eye on Perry and Walker.
It had finally come to him, sometime after Bart left, that Perry and Walker must be tied together in one way or another. The timing of Perry's arrival and Walker's sudden interest in poker seemed awfully suspicious. He would think more on this tonight; for now he had to help Jacob shoe horses. Or whatever else was required of him.
The work was hard, hot and dirty. By the end of the day Bret felt like someone had been beating him, both physically and mentally. It was the only way to get back on his feet that he could think of and it would at least keep his mind occupied and off of Bart.
It was almost dark when he returned to the tent and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep. He was surprised to see Lewis sitting waiting for him, fresh hot coffee ready. Lewis had always made him slightly nervous; maybe because he could outdraw any man in camp. Bret was nothing if not a died-in-the-wool coward. Better to not make this particular man angry.
"Coffee?" Lewis held out an empty cup. "Sure," Bret answered, sitting down and pouring some. Might as well drink more coffee, he wasn't going to be able to sleep any time soon. They sat that way for a few minutes until Lewis finally spoke. "Heard what happened. Mighty big shame. Your brother is a good poker player." He paused to see if Bret had anything to say. Hearing no response, Lewis continued. "Somethin' funny about that Perry kid. Can't put my finger on it but I don't trust 'em." He nodded at Bret. "You spot anything last night?"
Maverick shook his head 'no.' "I watched him all night. Couldn't catch him doing anything wrong."
Lewis squinted and dumped the rest of his coffee in the fire. 'Still . . . . somethin's off. Can't accuse him of anything without proof. Thought I'd check with you and get a feel for it."
The feeling of suspicion that Bret felt for Perry's card playing resurfaced. "You're right, there's something going on there. I just haven't spotted it yet."
Lewis got up from the fire as he spoke. "I'll let you go. Sure you're tuckered out after today. Poker tomorrow?"
Bret nodded yes. "Soon as I get a stake."
"Look, can't be too careful in my profession. Can't afford many friends." He paused and looked Bret right in the eyes. "Consider you one of 'em. You need anything, you let me know."
That was unexpected. Bret nodded at the gunslinger in thanks and acknowledgment. "Haven't got a spare brother lying around anywhere, do you?"
Even Lewis laughed at the question. "Nope. Don't have one of those. But if I see one I'll send him your way."
"Yeah, I don't think I want to break a new one in. Just have to figure a way to get mine back."
With that exchange, Lewis turned and walked toward the saloon. Bret watched him go into the darkness and put out the fire. Then he went to bed.
Two or three days passed before Jacob had enough money to pay Bret. By that time every bone in his body hurt, and his head didn't feel much better. He kept playing the whole fiasco with Bart and the cufflinks in his mind and he kept coming back to the same conclusion: he should have walked away from the game. Losing was one thing, being totally stupid about it was another. There were only two things in the world that were important – poker and family. And family beat poker by a mile. Too bad he hadn't understood that lesson sooner.
On the fourth day Jacob paid Bret for his help and Maverick retired from the blacksmithing profession. He got cleaned up, glad to be rid of the smell of fire and iron, and got dressed. It would be the first time he walked into the saloon since that night and he didn't want any distractions. He would do whatever he had to in order to make sure he never had to work for Jacob or anybody else again.
Because of his limited poker stake Bret had to play the small games at first. It only took three nights of playing at the less significant tables to have built his 'poke' back up enough to be waiting at the more familiar table when Clete and the 'boys' arrived.
"Well, Maverick, I see you survived," drawled Perry as they all took a seat. "Seńor Bret, it is good to see you again. So sorry about Seńor Bart," Reuben greeted him. Lewis simply nodded and Jacob motioned Walker over with a bottle. As Walker handed out glasses and started pouring drinks, Bret covered his with his hand and smiled at the bartender. "No thanks, Walker. None for me."
"What's the matter, Bret?" Clete asked. "You had a drink the last time we played."
"Yes, and you see what happened, don't you? No thanks, boys, once was enough." Once again Bret smiled. He wanted to make sure that everyone knew there were no hard feelings. He wanted everyone to feel loose and comfortable, so that he could figure out what exactly was going on. No mistakes or ego trips this time, he was playing to get his brother back. He didn't intend to lose again.
For a while, everything went pretty smoothly. Bret wasn't pressing or bluffing, just trying to get a real feel for the way Clete and the others were playing. No one seemed to be any different but Perry; he was nervous and out of sorts, raising when he shouldn't have and rarely winning. He was almost a different poker player. Bret was smart and sharp and cunning, catching the tiniest little flicker in someone's countenance and the smallest difference in their betting. He played with ease and skill, and none of the absolute need to win that he had felt the previous week. He saw everything that Perry did and remembered every move he made. And still he couldn't catch anything out of the ordinary.
They'd been playing for about six hours when something finally occurred to him. The night he lost the cufflinks he had been constantly drinking coffee. Which meant that Walker was always at the table refilling his cup. Tonight he wasn't drinking anything, and the bartender was pretty well confined to staying behind the bar. Was Walker spotting the cards to Perry when he came over with the coffee pot? Only one way to find out, but it wouldn't happen tonight. Bret had to have a whole evening to test his theory and see if the two men he distrusted were really running some kind of a con game on him.