Read Online to Tame a Land (1955) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online

McLanahan was still with me, bu t seeing some of the Bisley Colts, I longed for a new an d more efficient gun. Several times I almost went in to bu y one, but each time I hesitated. Right now I needed n o gun and there was a lot I wanted to see on the mone y I had left.
    One day on Market Square I saw a bunch of men sittin g or standing around a bench. Some of them looked Western, so I walked over, and when I go there they were talking about shooting. It was warm, and most of them ha d their coats off. One tall, finely built man with long hai r to his shoulders and a mustache interested me. He wa s wide across the cheekbones and had gray eyes.
    Several times I saw him studying me, and whenever I w as around, I noticed he knew where I was.
    There was a young fellow standing near me and h e whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Wild Bill' s trying to figure out who you are."
    "Wild Bill? Is that Hickok?"
    "Sure thing. He's a fine shot."
    This fellow stood there listening to the talk of guns an d shooting, and then he turned to me. "Have you eaten yet?
    I'm hungry."
    We walked along together. He was a buffalo hunter, h e told me, and he had come into Kansas City with nearl y three thousand dollars from his hides. "My name's Dixon," h e said. "Billy Dixon."
    "I'm Ryan Tyler . . . lately from Colorado."
    We ate together, then went to see a show. Later we me t a strong-built man, older than us, whom Dixon had know n on the prairie. His name was Kirk Jordan.
    Several days we hung around town, but my money wa s running short and I'd begun to think about leaving. Whe n I was sitting on the Square one day, a sharp-faced man i n a black coat stopped near me. Several times he looked m e over carefully. Me, I'd hunted a good bit myself, and kne w how a hunter looked. This man was hunting something.
    He sat down near me, and after a bit he opened a conversation. After a while he mentioned poker . . . a friendl y game.
    Now, I'm not so smart as some, but Logan Pollard ha d taught me a sight of poker. And he taught me how to wi n at poker, and how a cardsharp works. Pollard was good.
    He knew a lot, and being naturally clever with my hands , I had learned fast.
    Moreover, poker isn't a very friendly game. If you pla y poker, you play for money, and beyond a certain poin t there is nothing friendly about money. So when a strange r suggests a friendly game of poker . . . well, you figure i t out.
    This fellow had me pegged right. He figured I was i n from the hills; had bought some fancy clothes, and wa s carrying a stake in my pocket. Only the last was a wron g guess.
    "Don't really play cards," I said cautiously, "but i f you're going to play, I'd enjoy watching."
    "Come along, then."
    We started off, and, glancing back, I saw Hickok an d Jim Hanrahan and some others looking after us wit h amused smiles. They were thinking that I would learn a lesson, and every man has some lessons to learn for himself.
    There were five men in the game and one of the m looked like a buffalo hunter. The others . . . well I didn' t know about them. But after a while, I sat in.
    They let me win three out of four times. Each time th e win was small, but it was enough to double what I had t o begin with.
    I played a blundering, careless game, sizing up the others. The way I saw it, all but two were cardsharps. Th e buffalo hunter was named Billy Ogg, and there was a ma n who had been a stage driver in Texas. A mighty fine fellow.
    On the fifth hand they built the pot pretty strong an d I stayed with them, and lost.
    It was my deal then, and clumsily I gathered in th e cards, having a hard time getting them arranged, but i n the process I got two aces on the bottom. Shuffling th e cards, I managed to get another ace to the bottom, an d then I dealt the cards, taking my three aces off the bottom as I needed them. That is, I dealt myself two of the m to begin; then when I drew three cards, one of them wa s the third ace.
    Woods, the man who had roped me into the