"Hey, Fred! I heard there was a shooting at the Dusty Lady last night. As I recall you and the boys were going to take Nate on down there to have his first taste of whiskey and women. What happened?"
Fred smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Well now, if you'll bring me another plate of Mrs. Thompson's biscuits, I just might tell you." He patiently sat and waited, sipping his coffee, until his "fee" appeared. "They had them an awful high stakes poker game going. There was that D'aray fellow, Bill Smith, the fella that owned the Dusty Lady, and a few other folk who drifted in and out of the game. A lot of money was passing over that table and most of it was headed in the direction of D'aray." A small crowd had begun to gather and several heads began to nod. More than one man had lost hard earned wages to that gambler.
"Well, the more D'aray won, the more Smith lost. The more he lost, the more he drank and you know Bill. He's a mean drunk. He started saying things about D'aray and the South in general and you could tell it weren't sittin' well with the man but he didn't say anything. Just kept on taking Smith's money."
"It was gettin' late when Smith bottomed out. He just sat there staring glassy eyed at that big pile of money in front of D'aray, scowling something fierce. D'aray just smiled and said, 'Wahl, suh.' You know how he talks with that polished Southern accent of his. 'Wahl, suh. Ah would say yoah out of the game unless you've got more money somewhare.' "
"Smith looked at him with such venom in his eyes that its a wonder D'aray didn't fall dead on the spot. 'I'll put up the Dusty Lady, damn you. That ought to be worth as much as that pile of money in front of you.'"
"D'aray looked at Bill for a moment and then he nodded, real slow like. 'I imagine so.' Then he called for a new deck, said the old was getting tired, and called for Nate to come over and deal for them. Wanted to make sure everything was on the up and up. With those stakes on the table he didn't want anyone calling him a cheat. Well, they played that hand out and when it was over Bill was holding three aces but D'aray had a full house, fives over eights. D'aray smiled real big then and said, 'Ah guess ah'm the new ownah of this heah saloon. Next round of drinks is on the house.' Then he got up and went to the bar and poured himself a whiskey."
"While he was doing that, Bill got up and went behind the bar. We thought he was just going to get a drink but he grabbed that sawed-off they keep back there for trouble and came up yelling that no 'god-damned cracker' was going to take his saloon away from him. I figure D'aray knew it was coming though 'cause he was ready. As soon as Bill started to pull out that gun, D'aray threw his whiskey at him. It was a backhanded throw, not much strength behind it, but it made Bill flinch and by the time he'd recovered, D'aray had his hogleg out and put a couple of rounds into Bill quick as you please. Didn't kill him though, just hit him in the shoulder and arm, but it was enough to put him down. Then D'aray walked around the bar, keeping Bill covered the whole time, and took the shotgun away. 'Someone get this trash out of mah saloon before he bleeds all over the place.' That didn't take long and then it was business as usual."
Someone called out, "Was he fast?" It had been a matter of speculation among the cowboys who'd all noticed that Damien wore a gunslinger's rig.
Fred just shook his head. "Hell if I know. When he threw that glass my eyes were on it. I didn't actually see him draw. Fact is, no one I talked to afterwards saw him draw. I'll tell you this though, weren't much time passed between the throwing of the glass and the sound of the first shot."
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