Chapter 16 #2
“Was about him,” he blurts, also having reached the limit for what he can endure as he gestures toward the bar. “Was about Aiden is all. We were talking about if it was all true. What they say about him.”
“I see.” Maddock’s eyes shift from Arty to me, an attempt at a smile back on his face. “Seems to be a particular interest for you today, Cypress. My apologies that this seems to be taking up so much of your focus.”
“If I recall correctly,” I say, identifying the test as it’s given and tilting my head as if carefully considering my response, “the topic was by your introduction this morning.”
“Suppose it was.” He’s staring at me, and though I’m rarely an advocate for dishonesty, I really wouldn’t mind right now if Arty took up the practice. “Still, you’ll have to let me know if you want me to make introductions.”
I smile. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Who is it we’re talking about now?” Clayton asks, kindly inserting himself into the conversation while grabbing another cigar. “Feel I’ve missed something.”
Instead of answering, Arty wavers between the miner and a severely irritated Maddock, unsure of what to do. Unfortunately, the dart of his eyes toward the bar proves to be plenty.
Poor young man. It’s a wonder he’s survived more than a day out here.
“Is that…” Clayton starts to say, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline as he follows Arty’s gaze precisely to where I’d prefer it not to go. “God, it looks like him, doesn’t it?”
“Could we get back to the damn game?” Charley asks, as bristly as I feel. “Barely going to make it through two rounds at this rate.”
“Great idea,” I say, turning to my left. “Clayton, my friend, I think it’s your—”
He’s already up, stubbing out the cigar he just lit in the ashtray before brushing his hands over his suit. “Never thought I’d… Why, the man’s a damn hero.”
Maddock scoffs. “A hero? Not sure I would—”
“I would,” Clayton argues, a firm set to his expression as he becomes the third person at the table to give Maddock’s ego a well-deserved kick tonight. “What he did for the McHenrys…” Clayton clears his throat. “Excuse me.”
With that, he’s off, and I at least have the cover of not being the only one staring as I watch the proceedings, though I’d wager I feel the worst about it when I see Aiden startle at the sound of his name.
He quickly looks in my direction as if to confirm I haven’t moved before he stands and shakes the hand of the man who has appeared in front of him.
Whatever Clayton tells him next, he tries to keep it between them, his head bent as he mutters something that has Aiden glaring at the floor this time instead of the bartop.
The exchange looking so tense I nearly get up when Clayton grabs him by the shoulder, squeezing as he finishes saying his piece while Aiden shakes his head as if to disagree.
Only when Clayton seems unwilling to take no for an answer does Aiden finally nod, receiving a hearty backslap from the older man before he leaves and allows him to retake his seat.
“Imagine that,” Clayton is muttering as he returns to the table and reclaims his own chair. “Seeing him here of all places. I wonder what brings him.”
“Employment,” Maddock responds, pretending to sound politely disinterested when it’s obvious to anyone who’s paying attention that he’s actually enraged. “He’s one of mine.”
Not yours, I think, still watching Aiden as he goes back to staring at his hands, although I’d swear he first took something black and silver out of his left pocket.
Beside me, Clayton picks up his cigar again, relighting it with a match from his vest and a few deep puffs. “An honor for you, then. Few finer men in my book.”
“An honor? Him?” Maddock sneers, making an attempt at a laugh as he reaches for his drink. “He’s practically worthless now. Your book must be missing a few pages.”
“Must be,” I agree, pleased to see Maddock looking smug before I say, “Need to save a few for…what was it? The fastest man in town?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know I’ve pushed too far. I also don’t particularly care. Too invested, I think again. Far, far too invested.
“The county,” Maddock corrects, staring me down. “Fastest draw. Likely in the whole state. If you’d care to test—”
“Sure as fuck can’t tell by the way you play cards,” Charley cuts in again, the old man sounding like he’s about to draw a pistol himself. “Can we please get back to the goddamn game? Can’t even remember whose turn it is with all this talkin’.”
There’s a sudden fluster of activity, one of Maddock’s men having enough self-preservation to quickly get the hand going again while I continue to bide my time until the next one. Even Maddock’s seething glare eventually moves on as well. Beside me, Arty’s shoulders finally relax.
“Sorry,” he mutters to me after making sure his employer has refocused on the game, so quiet that I almost miss it. In return, I give him the barest hint of a nod to show him there’s no ill feelings. At least, not where he is concerned.
Across from me, Maddock knocks back the remaining contents of his drink and chases it down with a pull from his flask before he looks away from the table, and even if I hadn’t been looking the same direction all night, I would feel no qualms about going all in on where his glare lands.
As well as on how all this is going to play out in the end. If I let it.
“How about another, boys?” Clayton asks, pulling his pile of winnings toward him after he takes the hand with a two pair. “Night still has plenty of life in her.”
“I’m in if Maddock is,” I say, giving him what I hope is a contrite smile. “Or maybe he’s grown tired of taking my money.”
Maddock looks at me, a little wary at first, but just as I suspect, even that small appeasement of his ego does wonders in terms of turning his mood around.
“Not nearly,” he says, nodding at the dealer for him to continue before he holds up a hand for another drink. “Although, you never know, perhaps you’ll surprise us all and actually put up a fight.”
“Careful what you wish for, Maddock,” I say, taking my cards when they’re offered. “You might just get it.”
I lose spectacularly for the rest of the evening.