5 Card Stud Page #2

I'm filling in for him|till he gets around to Rincon.

Well, if either of you|needs any help... call on me.

Nick Evers.

Meet me here in an hour, Stoney,|and space out those drinks.

Yes, ma'am.

- Nora.|- Mr Hurley.

The bridle broke|going home from church.

- Dad patched it but I need a new one.|- I'll fix it in a jiffy.

Thanks. I'll be back|after I finish my trading.

Mr Hurley... What did you think|of the new preacher yesterday?

A lot more than he does of this town.|Maybe the man's right.

Fred Carson must be|keeping banking hours.

But bankers don't leave|the front doors open.

He must be in the storeroom.|I'll go see.

Stay out of there!|I'm going for help.

- What the hell is that?|- Looks like Stoney had an accident.

That's no accident.|He's been strangled.

George! Sit down.

That's right out of Rincon Creek.

Funny thing about gold, it doesn't look|like gold until it gets to be money.

- Have you read about Rincon?|- Paper's full of it.

If it ain't the strike, it's Fred Carson|being drowned in a flour barrel.

- Tomorrow it'll be Stoney Burough.|- What about Stoney Burough?

Somebody gave Stoney|a new string tie.

Only it was made of barbed wire|and a little tight.

That was some unhealthy|card party I had going.

Three men dead.

- Up to now.|- Up to now?

It looks like someone's out to kill|every man at that party.

That's a good reason to avoid Rincon,|if you planned to come back.

That's what you've come|a hundred miles to tell me?

- I'd have come further.|- Thanks.

But the night I got thrown out|in the street, you never did wake up.

- I'm woke up now.|- Stay awake. When do we go back?

Back? It's you who ought to wake up.

If a man's out to kill you,|don't let him pick the time.

You go to Rincon,|he'll even pick the place.

I won't know him|till he looks for me.

You won't know him in Rincon either,|he won't wear a sign.

But I will, and then he might just|make one bad move.

Well, I guess a man's gotta be|a damn fool once in a while.

It proves he's still alive, huh?

I've seen strikes before. They eat|a town up alive. Like a snake.

Before I go to Mama's, I'll clean up.

From what I hear,|up the street there is the place for it.

Smash your baggage, mister?

- Can you find me a room?|- Mama figured you'd be back.

You still got your old room.

Van!

Take the bag up to the room,|will you, George?

I heard about Fred. It wasn't easy,|walking into that storeroom.

Walking out was the hard part.

And now Stoney Burough.|Everybody's edgy, even my father.

He's putting up a reward|for Stoney's murderer.

Like he did for Fred Carson. He won't|let me go anywhere by myself.

And look what he makes me carry.

Well it's a sure thing|you won't kill anybody.

Unless you're that close.

I'm glad you're back.|Only you didn't learn much in Denver.

You forgot some.

- You need a shave.|- I was about to.

Not in her place!|I'd sooner shave you myself.

It happens I also need a bath.

I can't help you there.

- I'll post the notices.|- Thanks, Al.

- Hello, Van.|- Mr Evers.

What do you think|of what they're doing?

What who's doing?

I just put up another $1,000|to find out, I don't know.

Tell Nick|I'll be at Mama Malone's tonight

and to bring some good|card players, he'll know who.

I'll do that.

- I thought this was a barber shop.|- What changed your mind?

You did.

Change it back.|It is a barber shop, and I own it.

I could use a shave.

If I got you for one bell,|what do I get for two?

A barber.|Hazel, this gentleman wants a shave.

Yes, Miss Langford.

Ever give any shaves yourself?

- About once every thousand faces.|- I guess I'm the wrong number.

- Good afternoon, Miss Langford.|- Afternoon, girls.

"Miscellaneous" is $20.|What's "miscellaneous"?

Something you didn't ask for.

- Do many people ask for it?|- It sells well.

Thank you, sir.

We had a seven-man poker game|that turned into a lynching party.

Now three are dead.

We're here to talk about|those three and us four.

I care only about one of the four|live ones, and that's me.

I care about the dead ones.|There never should've been a hanging.

Fred Carson was my friend, and|I could even stand Stoney Burough.

- Not you, though.|- You bleed too easy, Joe.

The hanged man was a cheat.|Stoney was a mean drunk.

Carson got paid for his hand|when he weighed anything.

Anybody at this table|could be doing these killings.

- You're not drunk, so you must be crazy.|- Shut up.

How did you figure that?

About the lynching, you could call it|a partnership in a killing.

They all sit around|and start itching, these partners.

- They wonder who'll crack first.|- Who would? It'd be his hide, too.

He'd swap his life for all the others.

If I thought anybody'd do that,|I'd kill him myself.

Sure, so would you, even you,|that's what I'm talking about.

Van doesn't believe any of that.

He's just stirring things up,|seeing what floats to the top.

I'd say Fred and Stoney|got killed by an outsider

who got even for this hanging.

- Got any proof of that?|- A little.

Do you know what I saw|in Strangers' Corner in the cemetery?

Flowers on that card cheat's grave.|Who'd do that?

- Sure not me.|- Nobody but an outsider.

Take it that way, then.

But this outsider,|this flower-picker,

how did he find out Fred and Stoney|were in the lynching party?

There's only one way he could|find out. From someone who knew.

How'd he guess|what outsider to go to?

Maybe he did a little figuring and|tracking, like I did with the flowers.

Only better.

Maybe he even saw the man|put flowers on the grave.

We're out to save our necks,

and right now I wouldn't give|two bits for the four of them.

All I know is,|I know less than when I got here.

Come on, Mace.

- I'm sorry you came back.|- I thought we were friends.

That's why I'm sorry.

Where are you going?

When I was younger,|a shave lasted a lot longer.

Good evening, ma'am.

- This place is closed.|- Was closed.

You just opened it.

It's 2 a. m. and the girls have gone.

Not all of them.|You answer to one bell?

I'm not one of the girls, Mr Morgan.

You know my name.|We meet some place before?

No. I'd have remembered.

You're very gallant for 2 a. m.|but I'm not one of the girls.

And I don't give shaves,|especially at this hour.

How about|that one face in a thousand?

The last man I liked|is three years gone.

That's a long time.|Want to tell me about him?

What's there to say? He was a man.

Well, go on.

That covered it, Mr Morgan.|He was a man.

- How'd you know who I was?|- I inquired.

Why?

- I wanted to know who you were.|- Same question. Why?

- You're asking a lot of questions.|- I don't often hear the truth.

I'm still waiting for an answer.|Why did you find out who I was?

You're a man,|which is no recommendation.

You're a gambler, which is less.

You think you're the best gambler|in the world.

And that's no recommendation at all.

But like you said, three years|is a long time, a very long time.

That's not good enough.

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