Depths With Depths by Gordon Young

  Adventure, January 18, 1919

  CAN explain best what I mean by

  want to be a “father” to any other girls, referring to poker. It has depths within Freda used to grow confidential with me.

  I depths. A man bluffs on a bobtail. You “I hate the life, Dad,” she would know he is bluffing because you are a say at times, “but what can I do? Marry?

  good judge of human nature. That is easy.

  Sure. I’d marry any man I could respect—

  But supposing that he is a better

  and love him, too. I want somebody that judge of human nature than you: he knows can protect me and him. In this climate what will make you think he is bluffing, that means you have to marry a gunman—

  and he will get you to call when he has a a real one!

  straight flush. But again, if your

  “Look at the fellows around here!

  perception is keen, you may see clear There’s Tom Wiggins—a killer. No through that imitation of a bluff and throw manhood. And he has everybody scared your hand away.

  stiff as a lizard on ice. I want a man who is Yes, but supposing that he is so

  the real thing—the real West in him. Lots deep a player that with the bobtail he can of good boys, but stupid. Lots of fellows play it so that you think he is pretending to not stupid but loud-mouthed. Bragging all bluff with a royal in his fingers and drives the time. And the silent ones—well, I trust you from the pot?

  you, Dad.” And with a laugh, “But you are And so it goes? the depth of the

  married,”

  game of life and love and poker is

  unlimited, and the only reason you can tell THEN Dan Macready landed in our town.

  a “four-flusher” before the show-down is We all looked him over and waited

  because he isn’t clever enough to play his listeningly, expectantly. But he didn’t say hand as if he had ’em.

  anything about where he came from, what I’ll make this short because I’m

  he had done or would do. When asked, he really not. telling a story but illustrating a said he came from “over there” and waved point. Freda Barton was a good judge of a vague hand toward the skyline. We took men, and a mighty fine girl to be in the the hint and continued to look him over.

  Scorpion Dance-hall—which wasn’t as His Stetson showed wear.

  bad as it sounds, even at that. I ran a poker No silver on the hat-band, and the

  game there, and, because I had a daughter brim was medium. He wore a brown coat about her age East in school and didn’t and vest, a little rubbed at the elbows. He

  Adventure

  2

  had corduroys, fairly new, and the inside that just made you try to think of

  of the legs showed wear, saddle-wear. something that simply wouldn’t be thought Boots, dime-heeled; and he wore

  of.

  the corduroys outside the tops. He packed At last it came—the show-down.

  a Colt .44, loose on the hip, low down, and Or at least we all thought it was the show-a plain belt—no shells, no place for shells.

  down.

  One hand, was soft and white. Gloves do It started over Freda. Most things

  that, and a gunman doesn’t wear gloves on around there did seem to start over her. I his gun-hand. No. His face was brown, never did know, but I wondered if she did deeply tanned. Steady eyes, and he was it on purpose. Women do things like handsome. Had a “way” with him, a that—to see what’s in a man.

  manner, carriage or whatever it is. But his Anyway, she found herself

  voice—he didn’t use it much—but it was a demanded for the same dance by Wiggins wonderful voice. Deeply cadenced, low and Macready. She’d promised it to both.

  and flexible.

  Macready was leading her out

  I didn’t see how any woman could

  when Wiggins ups and lays claim.

  resist that voice; Freda seemed to think the

  “Mine,”

  says

  Wiggins.

  same.

  “I beg your pardon,” says

  He played a little poker. I watched Macready quiet-like, but that voice awful him closely. It was a fair game. He drank a tense— “Miss Barton has promised me little. Listened, talked pleasantly, asked no this dance!”

  questions—but how he did watch and

  “Mean I’m a liar!” Wiggins yells,

  listen!

  jumping back and aching to start

  “Lookin’ for somebody,” I something.

  thought.

  “I mean Miss Barton has promised

  “What you think of him, Dad?”

  me this dance,” Macready repeats.

  Freda asked one evening, early.

  Wiggins started to reach, but he

  “You ought to be better informed

  changes his mind and puts his hands up.

  than me. You and him have been hittin’ it Macready simply poked a gun up against off pretty much.”

  his belt-buckle and said:

  “Yes,” she said slowly,

  “You villain, I love this girl! Get thoughtfully. “Funny. I like him—but I out of my sight and don’t let me see your don’t know. He looks good. Yes. But evil face again!”

  there’s something—I can’t explain it. Do Some remarks, them. I kind o’

  you think a tenderfoot could pass it off?”

  caught my breath. And the way he said it:

  “Them corduroys spent a lot o’ that voice rang out like he meant it. And time over a saddle,” I said.

  Wiggins went, too.

  “I noticed. I’ve looked him over. I Freda had both arms around his

  like him, too. But I wonder.”

  neck in about two seconds and was

  Tom Wiggins kept getting weeping.

  grouchier and grouchier. He sized

  They didn’t dance that night. No.

  Macready up and down. Looked him over They went off and talked. And

  for weeks. It was the fellow’s voice and about a week later they were married.

  silence that bothered Tom. Silence most of Me and my wife take a trip East

  the time—then the pleasant, carrying voice once a year to see the girl in school; and

  Depths With Depths 3

  we drove thirty miles to get the train. And for a gun, and I beat him to it, and I say: on the stage was Macready and Freda—

  ‘You villain, I love this girl! Get out of my going on a honeymoon to New York, she sight and don’t let me see your evil face said. She acted a little queer toward me, again!’”

  seeing as how we had been such friends.

  I was convinced.

  Looked happy enough and all that—but a

  “Does Freda know?”

  little shy. On the train that night Macready

  “Yes.

  Everything.”

  and me was alone in the smoking

  Mother and I laid over in Chicago

  compartment. “Well,” he said happy-like, a few days to see some relatives of hers;

  “I’m glad to get back to New York to my then we went on to New York to see the work.”

  girl. And there I inquired around for some It didn’t hit me all at once. But I plays with Dan Macready in them. We gradually got it and gasped out— “Your-went—and it was Western and all that, but what!” He smiled.

  the actor fellow wasn’t our Dan Macready.

  “I’m an actor, you know. Being

  No. He wore a hat with a ton of silver on featured in Westerns—thought I’d better the band, big red bandanna and I don’t come out and study. I wanted to give them know w
hat all. Only his voice was

  the real thing back East.”

  something like our Dan’s.

  “But that draw——”

  “That what?” he asked, puzzled.

  BACK home six months later I heard

  “That draw on Wiggins—you had your

  something enlightening.

  gun out——”

  George

  Bardoes,

  desperado,

  He

  laughed:

  gunman, highwayman and all-around cow-

  “I know. We heroes pull guns out a

  puncher, had busted out of San Quentin good deal on the stage, and I have over in California a year or so before and practiced that a lot. But shoot—honest, I laid quiet. Officers searched high and low never shot anything but blanks in my life!”

  and couldn’t get a glimpse of him. Then

  “You’re a deep one, all right,” I

  they learned he had been at the Palace in said relieved. “For a minute you had me San Francisco right under their noses for believin’ you was an actor!”

  weeks, posing as Dan Macready, actor, out

  “I am—Daniel Macready. Look me

  West to study up for plays.

  up. I love the Western roles. I want to be How he come to drift into our

  the best and do the best. I’ve studied every town, I don’t know. It was a long way detail. Why, I stained my right hand—the from the railroad. Maybe that was why. So gun-hand—and left the other nice and his face was stained tan and the glove-white. I stained my face. I never had a tan hand, too. And maybe he had bought those except at the beach. And that outfit—

  clothes off a cow-puncher on the train. But corduroys and all—I bought1 from a he said he’d told Freda everything—so I cowboy on his way back from Kansas

  guess it was all right. Freda was the sort of City.

  girl that would make a man be good—if he

  “And as for that little run-in with loved her.

  Wiggins—why, I played all last Winter: in And, while Macready wasn’t much

  ‘The Cowman’s Daughter,’ and the of a poker player, he knew about that trouble starts over a dispute as to who depths within depths—and had cultivated shall dance with her. The fellow reaches the voice to play the game.

  Adventure, January 18, 1919

 

 

  Monte Herridge, Depths With Depths by Gordon Young

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