Tiff's Game (Perry County Frontier Series) Read online

  The docks grew quiet as night drew on. Families were long departed, and having watched the gaming and enjoyed Mister Haycock's appearance, most loungers also called it a night. Tiff stayed on, observing closely, but discovering nothing reportable. He studied Haycock's mannerisms, searching for useful giveaways, but the gambler was too experienced for that.

  The men Haycock played against began looking at watches, and Tiff judged the game about finished. This was Friday. Would Haycock stay another night or move downriver to find fresh money?

  The game folded, and the players' voices rose. Men shook hands and swapped banter. One swore he had lost the farm, but there was no distress in his voice. Haycock did not hurry his fellow gamers away. They would play again and probably many times more. They were Haycock's bread and butter, and they needed to enjoy losing their money. An extra half hour spent joshing and gossiping helped ensure their return to Haycock's table.

  A crewman waited patiently, leaned against a stack of boxes. He explained to Tiff that the barge would leave early, and the next night's game would be downriver at Newport. The man was one of the club wielders Tiff had faced earlier, but Haycock's man whittled idly and displayed no animosity.

  Again the heavy sweater appeared and fanned himself on the foredeck. Tiff supposed he worked around the galley cook stove. Crew began dousing lanterns, and the last of the players thumped off across the dock. Tiff's horse stood alone at the hitching post. He tightened the saddle girth, gazing across the horse's back at the half darkened barge, still disturbed by something unidentified that was not quite right.

  The cook appeared and dumped slops into the canal. That would not sweeten the water, but worse things went in. Coming down, Carter Roth's old barge captain had claimed that dumping carbide lamp ash into the canal could keep grasses and weeds from growing. "It kills the fish, of course, but canals weren't dug for fishing anyway."

  Tiff trotted Chip's horse back to his uncle's house. Here he was, on his first night, hanging around a gambling barge, but tomorrow promised to be a bright day, and he would make up for it. There was family catching up to do, and his mind still sparked a little remembering the impact of Lily Carver's presence. Whew, he had never felt anything like that before.

  Tiff let himself in the back door and found his way through the darkened house. He had been clumsy putting the horse and tack away. Then he had stumbled over a basket beside the porch. No doubt that the family knew he had returned.

  Tiff climbed gratefully into the downy softness of his four-poster. He thought of his own family so many days to the west. The night was still young out there, and they would probably be resting on the porch, listening to a guitar or two being played in a vaquero's home, watching moonlight slide along the valley floor. That same moon shone through his bedroom window, but here it was filtered through trees, and in the surrounding forest it wouldn't show at all.

  Chip's kitchen table top was a rectangle of solid oak. Squared from a single two-inch-thick plank, the table was nearly ten feet long. Its worn-smooth surface was perfect for Tiff's demonstration.

  Carter Roth and Chip were worldly men, but they had wisely avoided serious gambling and knew little about sharp card handling. Their families did not play cards or roll dice. Tiff demonstrated why they should continue to avoid gambling—especially with strangers.

  Tiff said, "I suppose you've all seen a circus wire walker, haven't you?" They had. "What he does seems impossible to us who can hardly stay on a railroad track. It's the same with card handling. Professionals can do things most people would say were impossible.

  "Now, there are a lot of card tricks. Here are a few." Tiff identified cut cards and made requested ones appear. He made cards disappear and seemingly pulled one from behind George's ear. Then he explained more.

  "Tricks aren't of much use to a real gambler, but crooked gamblers may bottom deal." In slow motion Tiff showed his wrapt audience how a dealer could control his shuffles so that desired cards lay at the deck's bottom. Then he dealt them cards from the top of the deck while slickly feeding his own hand from the bottom. When he speeded up, they could not tell that he did it.

  Hannah Roth was admiring. "That must have taken years to learn, Tiff."

  Tiff riffled the deck into fancy fannings and through imaginative flippings. "I suppose it did. After a while you become adept and pick up new amusements quite easily."

  Tiny Doyle hunched his huge bulk through the door and blocked their light, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the kitchen's dimness.

  Tiff said, "Pull up a chair, Tiny, and we'll play a little Find the Ace, just for fun, seeing Haycock's already got all your money."

  Doyle endured his friends' laughter and shoulder slapping. He sat, and Tiff laid three cards face up in front of him. One was an ace. Tiff placed the rest of the pack aside. Then he flipped the three cards over and began switching their places with seemingly casual ease. His hands moved almost slowly, changing the three cards' positions.

  "OK, Tiny, which one's the ace?" Tiny pointed but was wrong. Tiff showed the ace, and they started again.

  Occasionally, Doyle won, but it was rare. Tiff said, "I've got all the odds, Tiny, and I add to them by letting you think you saw something. On the other hand, I let you win once in a while to keep you interested and hopeful/" Tiff turned earnest. "From now on, you won't win at all."

  Tiff's hands moved like lightning. The watchers could only guess which card was the ace. Tiny was wrong. Tiff worked again. Ten times in a row, Tiny Doyle lost. The last time, Tiff left the cards in place. Then he gently flipped them all. The ace was not there.

  Chip said, "Holy Hell, Tiff, How'd you do that?"

  Tiny's chin hung against his chest. Carter groaned. "He took us all in as easy as slipping in grease."

  The women and children laughed and applauded. Tiff reached across and seemed to extract the missing ace from Tiny's shirt collar.

  "That time I used a little sleight of hand, and you were all so caught up in the game that you never noticed I wasn't showing the ace after every play."

  Doyle's voice rumbled with embarrassment. "So that's how Haycock beat me so easy."

  Tiff was quick to admonish. "I don't think so, Tiny. He wouldn't have to. A professional can't lose at ace finding. He's got the odds with him."

  Tiff produced three half walnut shells and a button. "Finding the Button is almost the same game." Tiff placed the button beneath a shell, then switched the shells rapidly. "All right, somebody, where's the button?" The guess was wrong.

  They played the game a few times then Tiff rang a silver dollar on the table. He pointed to the three boys. I'll switch the button around. You fellows guess in turn. Winner gets the dollar."

  George chose first and was wrong. Tiff did not touch the two remaining shells. Carter's youngest went next and was also wrong. With a laugh of satisfaction, the oldest boy turned the last walnut shell, but there was no button.

  Carter asked, "Where in . . . ?"

  Tiff demonstrated. "When I was moving the shells good and fast, I got you looking at two while I eased the other beyond the table edge, and the button dropped into my lap. Then I lined 'em up, and you picked—nothing." He slipped his dollar back into a jacket pocket.

  Chip suggested, "You see how easy it is for a gambler like Haycock to clean out an ordinary man, Tiny? You never had a fair chance. You don't need to go off and fight for him."

  Doyle sat silent for a long moment, struggling for just the right words. "I played, Chip, so it was my doin', not just his. I'm bound to pay up." He paused, then looked Chip in the eye. "If you was me, wouldn't you pay up?"

  Chip held the simple man's eye before half swearing under his breath. "I guess I would, Tiny."

  Carter said, "Well, I wouldn't. If Haycock got to me like that I'd burn his damned barge out from under him."

  Chip snorted. "Sure Roth, then he would burn all of your barges and probably your house, barn, and chicken coop."

  Carter said, "I'd shoot him lon
g before then."

  Chip again snorted. "The way you shoot, I'd win money betting on him. In the end I'd have to plug him for you."

  Tiff was chuckling at the friends' rough banter when color flashed along the porch and light footsteps crossed. Closest to the door, Tinker Shatto said, "Why hello there, Lily. Come in. You are just in time to meet our nephew, Tiff."

  A form silhouetted against the light, and Tiff felt carpet-shock snap across his senses.

  Tinker said, "Tiff, this is our friend, Lily Carver."

  Tiff knew he got standing. He thought his head nodded and recognized that he answered.

  The girl stepped deeper into the room and paused, almost as though ready to flee. Then Tiff felt her settle, and teeth brighter than a snowbank smiled.

  Lily Carver's voice was husky and nearly as deep as a man's. She said only, "We met at the Millerstown dock."

  Tiff managed a croaking sort of agreement, Carter Roth's words of the previous day clogging his thinking like mud dobs.

  Lily Carver told hopeful swains that each was not the one.

  Her presence smacked Tiff like an open palm, yet, as plainly as if she spoke, Lily Carver's thoughts came clearly into Tiff's mind.

  "You, Tiff Shatto, you are the one."

  Chapter 12

  Tiff fought his senses into control, and the voice in his head faded. Lily Carver had come in far enough to be clearly seen, and Tiff Shatto, who had been untouched by the fancy ladies of San Francisco, Denver, Saint Louis, and New Orleans felt his heart leap in his chest. Just the sight of the witch of Perry County whacked him half giddy.

  Lily's was the heart-shaped face of a thousand dreams. Black eyes danced with the excitement of life, and raven hair, the kind beloved by generations of Shattos, was braided into a thick rope falling across a womanly bosom. There was a hint of olive in Lily's complexion, as though a distant ancestor had known the Mediterranean. The high coloring accounted for the brilliance of even white teeth when she offered her smile.

  In a place where women's dress suffered unimaginative sameness, Lily's attire sparkled. On this day she wore a flat topped Spanish hat with a wide and perfectly flat brim. Its leather chin cord was brightened by a golden metal tie that lay at her throat. A white blouse was tucked into an almost floor length skirt of brilliant red. The skirt was exceptionally full and showed only the toes of pointy and polished leather boots.

  A broad leather belt, worthy of a pirate, encircled Lily's trim waist, emphasizing her womanly shape enough to further reel Tiff's already ravaged senses. The gold earrings he had already detected completed the attire's outrageous appeal. Tiff steadied himself before he could be permanently stricken.

  Aware of silence, Tiff looked around. The families stared, astonishment shaping their features. Belatedly, he saw that he and Lily were the reasons for the charged silence. An embarrassed flush started at his open shirt collar and rose to envelope his head. He, Tiff Shatto, the emotionless, iron-willed professional gambler, was gaping like a schoolboy. He feared he might at any instant start twisting a toe and staring at the ground.

  Lily Carver, he realized, was doing little better. She turned suddenly shy, placing a palm over her mouth and glancing aside.

  Roth, the tactful, announced in a sea captain's bellow what was plain to everyone. "By all that's holy—and a few things that aren't—I never seen the like of it. I swear I saw lightning shooting and striking. Did you see it, Chip?"

  Hannah spoke briskly, but her tone held amusement. "Just stop it, Carter. Haven't you ever seen two young people take to each other before?"

  Chip said, "I've never seen anything like that! I think the ground shook, and I expect some of the oaks dropped branches."

  Everyone was starting to grin, and Tiff felt his embarrassment worsen. He suspected his face might burst into flame if it grew a degree hotter.

  Lily Carver handled the attention a lot better. Her snapping smile broke through, and Tiff again feared for his composure. No one had ever taken him like this before.

  Lily said, "Well, I'm admitting I came out special to see him. I put on my best clothes and shined my boots real bright. Aunt Carrie Mitchell clucked at me that being forward might scare him away, but I came anyway." Her eyes met Tiff's in an almost sly, slipping glance that reached right inside him.

  "But he isn't going to run." She turned boldly to Tinker Shatto. "Your nephew, Tiff, and I are floating in the same current." Again her eyes darted to Tiff's. Her thoughts seemed to concentrate, and she continued just as seriously. "We may travel together."

  Chip said, "You hear that, Carter? Lily's a witch all right. A gal that can predict the future has to be a witch."

  Tinker was almost angry. "That's a terrible thing to call a young lady, Chip Shatto. A witch brings to mind an ancient old crone who stirs huge pots of bat wings and lizard skins."

  Carter chose logic. "Well, there has to be young witches before there can be old witches, Tinker. Are you a witch, Lily? Lots of people claim you do unusual things."

  Lily Carver's lips smiled, and despite his determination to be in control, Tiff felt his heart thump. Astonishing! Wonderful!

  Lily's voice remained calm. "I don't believe in witches, Captain Roth, but sometimes I know things before they happen or at least before other folks do."

  She faced Tiff squarely and placed fists on hips as though challenging. "Tiff sees and knows things like that, too." All eyes shifted to Tiff.

  An occasion to mention his insights had not arisen. With an audience waiting expectantly, Tiff wondered that Lily Carver could know. Then he remembered that she too had to have experienced the impact of their minds touching at the Millerstown dock. The Shattos, Roths, and Lily waited.

  Tiff could almost laugh at the goggle-eyed George Shatto and the mouth-gaping Roth boys, but everyone wanted a serious answer.

  He spoke coherently for the first time since Lily Carver had entered the room and was pleased that his voice sounded normal. "Well, Lily's right. Sometimes things do come to me." Tiff hastened to add, "Not that I can call things up or even that most of the stuff is useful."

  A sudden picture blossomed unexpectedly in his mind, including a comfortable certainty that it was correct. Tiff said, "Like right this minute, I know that Lily left her stirrup hooked over the saddle horn when she loosened her horse's girth."

  George Shatto made a dash through the house to see. Carter Roth asked, "Is that the kind of stuff you know?"

  Tiff grinned, seeing Lily's features immediately brighten. "Well, I didn't claim the stuff was always useful, Captain."

  George was back, exclaiming that Tiff was right and excited talk broke out among them.

  Hannah asked, "Tell us something else, Tiff. This is just wonderful. It's better than a magic show."

  "I know that Lily planned on staying a while. Until after lunch at least."

  George exclaimed, "Wow, Uncle Tiff, how do you know things like that?"

  Tiff made his features solemn. "I guess it is my secret power telling me, George. Of course, the fact that Lily loosened a girth indicates more than a short stay, and it is just about lunch time and being included would be expected. Of course, no one would be impolite enough to eat and ride out. Those clues might have something to do with my prediction."

  There was comfortable laughter at George's expense, and the gathering resumed more customary activities.

  The women began clattering dishes and pans, and the men withdrew to the porch for discussion.

  From his carefully chosen spot, Tiff could see into the kitchen, and the swirl of Lily's bright skirt repeatedly caught his eye, distracting him from their conversation.

  Chip sighed in pretended exasperation. "I guess we had better talk about Lily Carver, Roth. Tiff's mind can't hold on anything else more than a sentence or two."

  Carter's head shook, and Tiff's eyes were drawn to the captain's scarred and misshapen earlobe. Uncle Chip liked to make up stories about it. Once he claimed that when the captain had jumped from
an apple tree, his gold earring had caught on a twig and ripped loose. Another time, the story was that Roth had been fingering the ring with his rein hand when the horse's head had jerked, stretching the captain's earlobe about a foot and finally ripping the gold clear through. Chip claimed to have sewn up the ear with a length of twine and one of Carter's old sail needles. The last might be true because the job could have been neater. Tiff resolved to ask for the truth one of these days. He got back to Carter's words.

  "Damnedest thing I've ever seen. Why Tiff, when you two got to lookin' at each other Lily's knees actually buckled, and I thought certain you'd had a stroke or two."

  Tiny Doyle, who had been a silent listener entered with his opinion. "Miss Lily is surely taken with you, Tiff. I reckon you'll be marrying up right away."

  Tiff's hair fairly stood on end. "Wait a minute, Tiny. We've just met. I've never even talked with her. Why, I've . . . "

  Carter turned to Chip. "You reckon Tiny's a kind of witch, too? I swear he's echoing my thoughts about one hundred percent."

  Ignoring his nephew's distress, Chip appeared thoughtful. "Tiff's right, Carter. He and Lily haven't hardly spoken. They don't know beans about each other. Tiff's a western, roaming, footloose, professional gambler. Lily's an orphaned, almost penniless, local gal that some think is a gen-u-wine witch." He nodded mostly to himself. "It's silly to speculate on them just up and tying the knot."

  Chip hauled out coins and nudged Carter, "But I'll give you three to one odds that Tiff Shatto and Lily Carver are married before the month is out. Fact is, Roth, I've never seen anything like it myself!"

  Shocked, Tiff said, "Oh for God's sake, Uncle Chip, I'm not ready to . . ." Tiff's objections died in midsentence. His eyes unfocused and he again knew, with that unexpected but clear and undoubtable certainty that sometimes surfaced, that his objecting and scoffing were pointless. His mind spoke, not in words, but in the unarguability of two plus two equaling four. He recognized that he and Lily were somehow already inexplicably yet undeniably bonded. As sure as tomorrow's sun would rise, Lily Carver and Tiff Shatto would be as one.