T
he sporting girls flutter about, charming fellas out of drinks, before convincing them to go upstairs with ‘em for a taste of heaven. The cowboys, buffalo hunters, muleskinners, and teamsters were easy pickings for the ladies, because those boys been out on the range, or bouncing over trails in the company of men. I guess something soft might have seemed like a slice of paradise. The ladies usually ignored me, which was just the way I liked it. I tended to sit in the corner of the saloons, sipping whiskey, keeping my head down, while not missing anything going on around me. I didn't watch the ladies as much as I did the gamblers. The real gamblers would sit at a table all night, playing poker or faro, their winnings stacking up in front of them. The other men who sat down at the tables to gamble weren't gamblers, just cowboys or greenhorns trying to make the time pass a bit quicker. They usually got up from the tables after an hour or so, pockets much lighter than when they first sat down. The gamblers though, they're a whole ‘nother breed. They sipped whiskey, gauged the competition, and played until there was no one left, which was rare,
because here in Dodge City, there was always someone willing to sit down and play. If no one does, the last remaining gambler gathers his winnings and heads to another saloon. I usually wait a few minutes before slinking out after him. Nobody but the bartender ever notices my absence. I'm a shadow—a greasy-haired, putrid smelling fellow, dressed in a dirty serape, and a hat with a broken brim. My face is covered with a scraggly beard, and I try not to look anyone in the eye. There's a method to what I do, and so far, it's been working. Beneath my dirty serape I carry a shiny Colt and a sharp Bowie knife. Oh, and a potato. I always carry a potato when I'm on the prowl. Twice a year I journey from my homestead in Missouri, leaving my wife Elmira in charge of the farm and our three boys. Cash money isn't easy to come by, so I sally forth looking to add to our nest egg. Elmira knew my mission, and supported me in all my endeavors. I got lucky meeting her in a sporting house in St. Louis fifteen years ago. She was looking for a new life, as was I. It's worked out well, and I figured I would be seeing her in the next couple of days.
