Sliver Pete jumped to his feet, sliding his chair back with a squeal. But just as quick the Preacher leaned over and retrieved the gun, wiping it with his jacket hem and sleeve. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, handing it back.
"Better sorry than dead," growled Sliver Pete. But there was a noticeable sigh of relief from the room as he holstered the 45 and sat back down.
After that things seemed to pick up speed as the bets got bigger. Mike McGrew pushed away from the table. "Too rich for my blood," he said. Now there were three left at the table, including Sliver and the Preacher, and Sliver Pete was winning big time. He had a small mountain of bills and coins and, recklessly, was playing for bigger and bigger stakes.
If Preacher Dan felt pressure he didn't show it although all his Church money was fast going to Sliver Pete. At last, just before dusk, the last call of cards came and Sliver had won it all. He wrapped his burly arms about the pot and began drawing it to him.
"Just a moment." The voice was soft and deadly and a startled Sliver didn't at first realize it came from the Preacher who added, "You been cheating all night and if you take that money now you can add thievery to the deed."
Sliver's hand went to his gun, but knowing the Preacher didn't carry a gun he held it there like a threat. "I don't cheat and I don't let no one call me one neither. Not even a preacher."
"Is that so? Let the Lord decide. That is, if you care to take your fight to the street where it's right and proper and you're not afraid to meet your maker," said the Preacher. |
