[June 18, 10 NE]
Daryl smirks and draws the pot of chips to himself. They've stopped directly laying tobacco and ammunition in the pot because the losses were mounting some nights and the wives weren't happy with the empty pockets that came home. So the cost to play is only three rounds now, and it's been agreed that the man with the most chips at the end of the game gets two rounds of ammo from each player and the man with the second most chips gets one.
Daryl wants that big pot of ten rounds because he's trying to buy thee water tax tickets at markup off three sailors who were higher on the wait list. Carol couldn't get herself a spot this week. He hasn't told her yet, but if he succeeds, they'll all three be able to go visit Henry and Rachel and the baby. Sweetheart will meet her nephew. They'll leave Friday and come back Monday, in time for Carol to participate in the candidate debates. If the trial of Susan Lawson starts before then, Sheriff Earl said she can submit a sworn, written deposition of her testimony. The lawyers are still in the jury selection process, which started today and is expected to take some time. Daryl's number came up, and he wasted two hours of his day in that chapel-courthouse, but the defense attorney used one of his dismissals on him because he's married to a cop.
Married to a cop.
He never imagined he'd see that day.
Garland deals another hand, throwing a card down to Dante, Santiago, Gunther, Mitch, Daryl, and then finally himself around the circular table near the unlit fireplace in the tavern. The stew's no longer on, but the bar is crowded shoulder to shoulder, busy for a Wednesday night, though most of the tables are empty now that it's after nine. Dante takes a sip of imported Candyshine and picks up his hand. "So what are you naming the baby?"
Dianne and Gunther weren't able to keep their secret for more than 48 hours. "We're not deciding that until the third trimester," Gunther replies. "Don't want to jinx it."
Santiago fans out his cards. "But you've tossed some names around, surely?"
"Dianne says my name choices are too redneck."
"Well, you've got a redneck name yourself," Dante tells him.
Gunther throws in his ante. "I think Gunther is a distinguished southern name."
"You all have redneck names," Dante insists.
"Garland is very genteel." Garland's ante clatters into the pot. "Daryl, on the other hand…"
"Hey!" Daryl barks at the ribbing. "Plenty of rich race car drivers and country musicians named Daryl in the Old World."
"That's new money," Dante says.
"Well I'm as old money as they come in Jamestown," Gunther insists. "I've been building my fortune since year two."
"Wait, what do you mean all of us?" Mitch asks as he matches the current bet by tossing in a red chip. "You think Mitch is a redneck name?"
"I guess not," Dante concedes. "So what are you gonna call him, Gunther? Billy Bob? Or her? Bobby-Jean?"
"Oh," Gunther says. "I rather like Bobby-Jean. I'm adding that to my list."
Mitch chuckles and throws down two cards, face down.
"Think the court will manage to find a jury anytime soon?" Dante asks.
"They have to call another pool tomorrow," Santiago says. "Sarah's number came up. She obviously had to recuse herself."
Garland lays down three cards. "Shannon's came up, too. They haven't eliminated her yet. And I hear they had to widen the pool. This could take days."
"Think she'll hang?" Dante asks. "Susan Lawson?"
"If she's convicted," Garland replies as he deals out the replacement cards to everyone. "It's murder in the first degree, after all."
Mitch slides his new cards to himself and adds them to his hand. "I don't know if people are going to be comfortable hanging a woman."
"Jamestown hanged that traitorous whore," Santiago says.
"Well, technically, they banished her," Garland replies. "She hanged herself. But that was because the prosecutor took the death penalty off the table for her cooperation. I don't seem him taking it off the table this time. Of course, the jury could choose a lesser sentence."
Santiago shakes his head. "I still don't see how you kill someone after you've been married to him for eight years."
"Been checking your morning coffee for poison?" Dante asks with a smirk.
"I don't have a fortune for Sarah to inherit. Raul, on the other hand…Enid could do well."
Daryl throws in his bet. "Why ain't Raul here?"
"Because Enid's got him by the balls," Santiago says. "She wanted him to stay in tonight. Play checkers in the common room of their dorm suite or something equally ridiculous."
"Well at least he's probably getting laid then," Dante quips. "Unlike you."
Santiago sighs. "This final stretch is rough. Sarah's got maybe four weeks left, and she has not been very interested. And then it's what, six weeks after the baby's born?"
"Six is just a guideline," Dante says. "She could stretch it to twelve."
"I don't want to hear this, boys." Gunther folds his hand.
Dante laughs.
"Check." Mitch throws in his chip. "So when are Raul and Enid going to the Hilltop again?"
"After they get married," Santiago tells him. "After the fair. All winter."
"And then Raul will be back at Jamestown for the spring harvest," Gunther adds. "Fortunately."
"Let's see what y'all got." Daryl throws his hand – a straight – face up on the table.
There are groans and sighs all around as hands are thrown on the table and Daryl sweeps the pot toward himself.
"Check up his sleeve," Mitch says. "He must have a hidden deck in there."
Daryl's actually been reading books on how to play poker, the same way he reads tracking and hunting and motorcycle repair and parenting manuals. He doesn't like to read, generally, but when he wants to know how to do something, he'll get a big pile of books from the Jamestown library.
As Daryl stacks his chips, Trisha comes by to take their orders for a second round of drinks. Daryl asks for a free glass of water this time.
"You pregnant?" Gunther asks him. "Because I know you aren't poor. You're fixin' to win this game."
"Savin'." If Daryl spends ammo on more whiskey, he won't be able to afford those taxi tickets. They're asking for three rounds a piece, each way. That's eighteen rounds, and he's only got twelve to spare if he doesn't win this game. "You got one of them Sunday taxi tickets, Mitch? Right?" If worse comes to worse, and he can't buy three Friday tickets off the sailors, maybe he can find a way to buy three Sunday tickets, and Carol will at least have an evening and morning with her grandbaby before the Monday taxi.
"I'm not selling you my Sunday taxi ticket. I told you. I'm going to see Aaron. He's meeting me at Oceansdie. He's bringing Gracie to fish."
Daryl picks up his hand. Shit. Everything's a different color, and there's not even one pair. He's going to have to take a gamble, draw three, and hope for the best.
[*]
The manual ceiling fan circulates slightly cool air through the living room. The summer crickets chirp through the open window. Behind the drapes, Sweetheart murmurs something in her sleep and the falls silent again. Carol pulls a thread through the patch on the left knee of her little girl's jean overalls. Sweetheart's torn both knees open again. She's even harder on her pants than Daryl is.
The front door creeks open and closed. Daryl takes a step forward and then a step back on the mat, remembering to take his boots off this time. He's humming happily to himself as he bends over, unties them, and then kicks them off.
She's rarely heard him hum like that, and she doesn't think he knows he's doing it. "Drink a little too much?"
He comes to stand by the mantle and looks at her where she sits in the armchair. "Nah, only had one."
"Really? You seem extra happy."
"'Cause I got a 'sprise for m'beautiful wife."
Carol smiles. "Really? What's that?"
"Close yer eyes."
Daryl is not a surprise gift giver, typically. She gives him a suspicious look, but she ties off her sewing, lies the little overalls on the coffee table, and closes her eyes. She can hear him fishing in his pants pocket and his stocking feet padding closer to her chair. His sturdy presence looms before her. "Open yer hand."
"This isn't a trick, is it?"
"What ya think I am? Twelve?"
"Sometimes," she admits with a teasing smile.
"Open yer damn hand, woman. Promise I won't put m'dick in it. Least, not right now."
Carol laughs and unfurls her hand. He lays something light and paper-like in her palm. She closes her fingers over it, and her face scrunches up with curiosity. "Can I look now?"
"Mhmhm."
Carol opens her eyes, unfurls her fingers, and gasps at the sight of a water taxi ticket. She went to the town hall meeting on Monday to try to buy one for herself, and couldn't get one. She ended up sixth on the waiting list. And this more than one. "How…how'd you get these?"
"Don't matter."
She pages through them, sliding one ticket in back of the other. "Three?"
"We're all goin'. Be back in time for yer debates."
"But…the trial?"
"Earl said ya can submit a sworn deposition. He'll take the stand. 'N Sarah, too. Santiago. Dianne if need be. Don't need to question all y'all deputies."
"You and Sweetheart are coming with me?" she asks, still too excited to quite believe the tickets in her hand.
"Mhmhm. Gonna have to tie 'er down so she don't jump out, but…manage. Return tickets are for Monday. So got Friday 'n Saturday 'n Sunday night there. Aaron's gonna be there Sunday mornin' with Gracie, so, Sweetheart can play with 'er."
"And you can play with Aaron?" Carol teases.
He shrugs. "'Til Mitch gets there on the Sunday taxi anyhow."
Carol laughs happily. "Thank you."
Daryl grins. "I did good? Ya like the surprise?"
"I love the surprise. I just hope you didn't sell your soul to get these." Water taxi tickets are in pretty high demand. Two to three spots in each taxi have to be reserved for returning passengers, and they only depart three days a week form Jamestown's docks.
"Won at poker," he admits. "Took a risk, threw in my hold damn hand to draw five, drew two pairs. No one else had better 'n a pair."
Carol lays the tickets on the wicker coffee table. "Come here."
Daryl grins a little lecherously. "Gonna let me put something else in yer hand?"
When he walks over, she beings to unbuckle his belt. "Maybe in my mouth."
"Oh, fuck yeah," he murmurs, and watches her with a smile as she slides the belt free from its loops.