Read Online The Adventures of Slim & Howdy by Bill Fitzhugh, Kix Brooks, Ronnie Dunn - Free Book Online Page B

consequence on the river card. Now it was time for the last round of bets. Howdy was up first and it was all he could do not to shout, “All in!”
    Out in the club, Slim had gotten to the final verse of his song and Howdy couldn’t stop listening, even if he should’ve. It turned out that things were past the point of no return for the fool who wouldn’t listen.
    Howdy looked at Dempsey, then at his hand. Full house, queens over kings, was too damn good to fold. Like the man in Slim’s song, Howdy was past the point of no return too. He’d invested too much to walk away. He wasn’t sure if he was a fool or not, figured time would tell. He just put in the rest of his chips and hoped for the best.
    Dempsey’s smile revealed yellow teeth and gum problems. He waited, just to make Howdy squirm. Then he said, “I’ll see that and raise you five hundred.”
    Howdy was out of chips and low on cash. He looked at his cards and the infected gaze of his ornery opponent across the table. Dempsey Kimble said, “Guess it’s time to reach in your pocket.”
    Slim was out there singing about the fool pushing his luck to breaking while Howdy pulled his wallet. Only two hundred bucks left.
    Slim delivered another line about the fool coming around to consider the possibility that maybe he’d gone too far this time.
    Howdy said, “Two hundred’s all the cash I got.”
    Dempsey nodded slowly. “Leaves you about three hundred short,” he said, reaching for the pot.
    “Well, hang on a second.” Howdy nodded toward the parking lot. “I got a Billy Cook High Country Rancher saddle out in my truck, worth about a thousand.”
    Dempsey sat back and said, “You’d bet that?”
    Howdy looked at his full house again and said, “Sure would.”
    Dempsey got calculating eyes and said, “So that would be a raise to me of, what, seven hundred? Right? I mean, you don’t expect me to make change from a saddle, like giving you the stirrups and the girth.”
    Howdy could see his point. All he could say was, “All right, raise you seven hundred.” Figured that would end things.
    They were playing with a three-raise maximum, so there was still one left. Dempsey bared his yellow teeth and said, “I’ll see that seven hundred and raise you another five.” As you do when you have them by the short and curlies.
    Howdy swallowed hard. He looked at his cards. The hand was too good and he was in too deep to turn back now. He looked over his shoulder at the guitar case leaning against the wall. He said, “I got a Gibson.”
    “Yeah?” Dempsey Kimble leaned on the table and said, “What’s that worth?”
    14
    SLIM FINISHED HIS SONG ABOUT THE LUCK-PUSHING FOOL and the long-suffering woman, said he was going to take a short break and be right back.
    A waitress put some quarters in the jukebox, and the joint kept jumping.
    Slim propped his guitar in the stand, stepped off the stage, and headed for the bar. About halfway there he got intercepted by that girl who wanted him to grind her stump. They flirted for a minute before she slipped her number into his shirt pocket. “You better call me soon,” she said, patting him on the chest. “Grass is getting pretty tall at my place.”
    Slim smiled at her. “Let me get my blades sharpened first,” he said with a nod toward the bar. “You stick around till the end of the night, we’ll talk about your landscape situation.”
    She turned and went back to her table where she huddled with her girlfriends, who giggled and drank and kept their eyes on the tall, good-looking stranger with the beautiful voice.
    Slim tapped his finger on the bar, ordering a beer. Skeets was three stools down, in the same place he’d been all night, pistol within easy reach. He was talking on the old rotary telephone but paying enough attention to give Slim a wink and a thumbs-up, either for his set or for getting the girl’s number, maybe both, Slim wasn’t sure.
    As he waited for his beer, Slim took a few peanuts from