The men sitting at the table look up at the sound of Eric’s question. They size the pair of them up, exchanging glances between themselves as if they’re communicating through a different channel. Artie makes sure to look confident, but more importantly, he absentmindedly places his hand on his pouch of money, drawing their attention to the potential amount they could win off the pair. After a few seconds of mutual sizing-up, they recieve an answer.
It’s a simple nod for them to take a seat. Artie silently obliges, and soon enough, the cards are being shuffled. He keeps a watchful eye on the dealer as he places their bets, pushing a handful of bills and coin to the center of the table. The man looks at the pile and seems pleased. The cards are dealt.
After an hour and a handful of raised bets, Artie stares down the only man at the table besides himself who hasn’t folded yet. It’s been between the two of them for the past ten minutes, and the man hasn’t stopped looking smug since then. He meets Artie’s gaze with a grin that he’s trying to hide as he raises three more coins.
“Tell you what I’m gonna do,” Artie says after a pause, “I’ll make you a little deal.” This makes the man’s eyebrows rise with suspicion. Artie continues. “If I win, I don’t take the money. I get information on a group we’ve heard tell about around town, and the amount me and my compatriot here raised during this game goes into the bet for the next game.” He sees the man consider this; it’s uncommon to raise these kinds of differences is rewards towards the end of a cash game, but everyone at the table seems interested to hear how they can have another chance at winning their money. “And if you win, you still get the money.”
He can tell it takes the man some deliberation, but after a handful of seconds, he slowly nods and grunts an agreement. He looks happy enough to do it; Artie recognizes the face of a man who is celebrating a percieved victory too early.
“Straight in diamonds.” The man places his cards on the table confidently. Artie glances at them, keeping his face carefully expressionless. After a few seconds of this, the man gets impatient with him. “Admit you’ve lost, partner–” And as he’s moving to rake in the pile of money, Artie places his cards down. “In your honor,” he offers a polite smile, “A royal flush.”
“right,” despite how much he wished they could’ve rubbed artie’s win in the guys’ faces, eric kept the poker face on while addressing the man. “the suggins gang. who are they, and what do they want?”
visibly embittered by his loss, the other groaned. “the suggins gang? they’re a bunch of odd sticks who show up from time to time.” after fishing for his drink and taking a gulp, he snatched the cards from the table and sloppily incorporated them into the deck again. “last we heard of ‘em they hit a mine up north. took god knows how many kilograms of dynamite, almost sucked the mine dry.”
at the response, eric looked at artie. not reacting in front of the men was wisest, hence they’d have to discuss the findings only after reuniting with the rest. sensing eric and artie’s urgency, though, the man cocked a wily brow. “well, there’s that thing about the doc too…”
eric’s curiosity shot up. his inquiry into what this man had meant went unanswered, and all that echoed around the table was the sound of the cards being shuffled again. the others’ vulture-like stares were on him and artie. were they getting played? possibly, but the man’s sliver of a tip-off seemed to resonate with the others enough to seem legitimate.
“tell you what, partners, i’ll make you the same deal—” stated the man who had been neck and neck with artie. “if either of you win this time, i’ll tell you the res’ of what we know. but if any of my men win, we take home the bets from the two games. shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
a sigh. instinctively, eric turned to the door of the saloon. he caught no sight of any sign at the church’s steeple, giving them what he presumed to be enough time for another round. with furrowed brows, he agreed.
for the rest of the game, eric’s eyes remained fixed on the man’s hands. at the first sneer in his direction, eric was quick to check: he’d only given his hand a quick, wary look, appearing as though he didn’t stand a chance in the eyes of their main opponent. the other rowdy men folded only to expose useless hands or exit impulsively, but a back-and-forth ensued with the last one standing: where the man was eager to bring in more money, eric would simply call. when the other raised, he checked, appearing resigned. the pot was full, almost three times the amount from the previous round. in between the motions, eric directed at artie a somewhat uneasy look. it didn’t matter to do away with all of his coins, but they needed that intel.
laughter boomed out of the man’s chest, who almost lunged at the pile of money as the game came to a close. at the last second, however, eric turned his hand to reveal the two cards tucked between his fingers. while far less impressive than artie’s stellar showdown, it was ultimately a winning hand. “flopped the joint straight,” he confessed, grinning slyly.
