The Game
by Ronnie Ashmore

I looked at the man across from the table. I could smell my own sweat in the cramped barroom, my mouth was dry as I was thinking of the choices a man makes on the spur of the moment. I would remember this December of 1892 as one of these choices.

"You in or out, Barclay?" he asked. His voice sounded distant, yet loud as it echoed across the room.

I swallowed and smiled a smile that I hoped looked more relaxed than it felt. I had got into this poker game to just have fun and maybe win some money for the wife and kids. With Christmas coming it seemed like a harmless idea. Things had gone completely wrong and showed no signs of improving. I won a lot of money, and the six we started with was down to just me and the man across from me, John Kyle, the local banker.

Kyle had teased me about sitting in on this game when I was behind on my mortgage note that I owed to him. The last hour I had lost almost half of all I had won to Kyle. I picked up my beer glass and noticed my hand shaking. I put down the glass hoping Kyle did not notice.

"I bet twenty."

"Raise one hundred!"

What was he holding? I needed to get a read on him, but I was not a gambler. I was, however, just a little over my head. I silently called and placed one hundred dollars in the pot, looking at my shrinking stack of money.

"I'll take one card, Dealer." Kyle said, tossing off his whiskey.

One card? So, Kyle probably had two pair, or maybe a flush, or straight draw. I had to beat that on my draw, but I had to stay in without going broke. Kyle was a bully in life, always trying to impose his will on others. He played cards the same way. He wanted me to fold because he was John Kyle, and I wasn't.

"Three cards, please."

I took my cards and looked at them. I needed to improve on my pair of twos. I nearly passed out as I looked at my draw cards. I hoped Kyle hadn't noticed.

"How much you have there, Barclay?" he was looking at my money stack.

"About twelve hundred." Twelve hundred was more money than I had seen in my life. I should have left the game earlier. I could have then, it was too late now.

"You still got me. I tell you what, I will make you a deal Barclay. I will bet your mortgage on this hand. You win you get your little ranch. I win I get the place and you have till noon tomorrow to get out." He laughed, the greedy son of a . . . laughed at me. I wanted to shoot him, to just stand up, pull my gun, and shoot him.

Suddenly, I knew he hit what he was after, the flush, the straight, or two pair. What if he hit a full house? I looked around the room, stalling, seeing if there was a way out. I could fold but he would push me with this next hand or maybe the next, it would make me a nervous case and cause mistakes. I could not let Kyle bully me.

"The mortgage? If I win the ranch is mine? I would owe you nothing?"

"That's right. I'll sign it over to you tonight. You can get on your horse and take it to your wife, maybe finally show her you ain't the loser I always thought you were."

Kyle was laughing again. This time though, so were some of the onlookers, my neighbors, my friends. I knew what was said about me, how I never had money to treat my wife to the new things she wanted. How my kids dressed in hand-me-downs, and other things. I always tried to teach my kids to hold their heads high, but that was something I could rarely do. It seems I was always in debt and asking people for money. It really was no way to live, much less raise a family.

I looked at my stack again. It was a lot more money than my family had ever seen. It was enough to pay all my town debts except the mortgage. If I took Kyle's bet I could pay everybody I owed, have the title to my ranch, and extra money for the family. I just had to stand strong and not let Kyle push me.

Was he bluffing? Were my pair of two's enough to beat him all along? Kyle would not bluff about a bank note, even for effect. No. He had something, and he was proud of it.

"I call." My voice sounded weak, low. "I call."

"Well, let's see what you got, Barclay."

"I called you, Kyle. You first." I shifted my seat and the sound of the chair moving was loud.

Kyle was grinning and looking around the room. "Gentlemen? Ya'll come closer, you're goin' to want to see this." He laid down his cards and showed five diamonds. Kyle had hit the flush on the draw. A murmur went through the crowd as Kyle's grin turned to laughter.

I did not trust my voice to speak. All I had wanted to accomplish when I sat down at this table seemed like a distant memory. The faces around the table were blurs, all I could see was Kyle's face, and I knew I would never forget it, not as long as I lived.

I laid down my cards. The noise in the room suddenly stopped, not died down , but stopped. Kyle, who was still grinning when he looked at my cards on the table, suddenly stopped also. He stared at my cards for a full ten seconds before it finally hit him.

"Full house. Three's over two's." I started reaching for the money in the middle of the table then stopped." Make sure you spell my name right on the deed, Kyle. I will wait here while you go get it."

Not much have I ever done to make people speak well of me, but that night in the saloon, I gave the entire saloon something to remember. I wonder, and I smile whenever I do, if John Kyle ever thinks of me.