Ice Country (5 page)

It’s time to show the first of the draw
cards. An arrow. No impact on my hand, which is already very
strong. Unless someone else has twin arrows, I’m probably still
winning.

Back to Buff. He passes, lets the bet go to
the twin on his left. The twin places his cards on the table,
stretches his arms over his head, and then throws in two large
coins. Twenny sickles. Already the pot is heating up and I’m
starting to worry the remaining twin does have something good, like
two arrows, which would leave him with a triplet, automatically
beating my twins. Across the table, Buff’s eyes widen.

Without even a sideways glance, Long-Face
throws in the required coins, along with two more, both ten sickle
pieces! The bet for this round alone is up to forty sicks, more
than we came with. If I keep playing and lose this hand, I’ll
already be broke
and
owe Nasal-Voice silver. Sweat begins
beading under my arms and below my knees. Feeling somewhat faint, I
wriggle out of my heavy coat and drape it over the chair behind me.
It helps, but my mind is still spinning. If I fold now, I’ll be
throwing away the best hand I might get all night. Plus, maybe in a
high stakes game every pot will be this big. If I’m going to take a
chance, now is the time to do it.

I throw in forty, trying to breathe
evenly.

Buff stares at me like I’m crazy. He’s gotta
throw in forty to stay in it. He throws his cards in instead, face
up. Twin medium stones. Not a bad hand, but not good enough
considering how fast the pot’s growing. It’s all up to me now.

Twin-Two throws his cards as well, unwilling
to match Long-Face’s raise. Down to me and Long. Twin-One flips
over another draw card. A boulder!
Chill freezin’ yah!
I
scream silently. I think the edge of my lip twitches, but that’s as
much celebration as I’ll allow myself outwardly. There’s still
money to be made, and there’s no doubt I’ve got the best hand
now.

Buff stares at me—now he’s trying to read me.
I can see it in his eyes: he knows what I’ve got. After playing a
whole lot of cards with him, he knows me too well. I hope Long’s
still in the dark.

The bet’s over to Long, who burns a hole
through the two draw cards—the arrow and boulder—with his eyes, as
if he hates what he sees. Either he’s an icin’ good actor, or he
knows that last card wasn’t good for him. He passes to me.

A tough call. I know I’ve got the better
hand, but if I bet big then Long will suspect it, too, unless he
thinks I’m bluffing. He might fold, which of course means I’ll take
a pretty nice pot. But on the other hand, if I can get him to keep
betting, I can make it an even bigger take. I toss in a modest
thirty sickle bet, beginning to feel like a real high roller, if
only because I now consider thirty sickles to be modest. As if it’s
nothing at all, Long slides the required coins across, smiling. He
won’t be smiling in a minute.

Another card is flipped. Another boulder.
Un-freezin’-believable!

Four of anything will win you a hand almost
every time. Four boulders, well, that’s a lock. Long taps the
table, signaling he’s passing to me again. Finally able to show my
emotion, I smile, big enough to make him think I’ve got a good
hand, which I do, but small enough to hopefully convince him I’m
bluffing. The math’s gotten too convoluted for me to have any clue
as to how much is already in the pot, but I know it’s more silver
than I’ve ever had in my life, enough to pay back our advance, fix
the stuff we broke at Yo’s, and buy something nice for Jolie.

I push every last one of my remaining coins
into the pile in the center.

Long scrunches up his nose and folds, leaving
his cards hidden. I’ll never know what he had, but I don’t give two
shivers about that, because my hands are curled around a mound of
silver, raking it in front of me, trying not to tremble with
excitement.

There are smiles all around the table, except
from Long. “Nice hand,” Pierced-Ears says.

“Thanks,” I say, standing up and starting to
shovel the coins into my pouch, “for the game.” Buff’s already on
his feet.

Pierced’s smile fades quicker than visibility
in a snowstorm. “Whoa there, pretty boy. Didn’t they tell you at
the door? It’s a five hand minimum for a seat at a table. No
winning and running.”

I feel the color drain from my face. “No one
told us that,” I say.

“Must’ve slipped Ham’s mind. He can be a bit
of a snowflake sometimes. All brawn and no brains. You know the
type, right?”

“Well, he didn’t tell us, so…” I push in my
chair.

“Sit down, boy!” Pierced screams, his face
red and snaked with popping veins. All activity in the Hole ceases
abruptly. Someone drops a coin and we can all hear it rolling
across the floor, not stopping until it runs into the wall.

Silence.

I stare at Pierced, who now looks nothing
like the kind, fun-loving card player from before. Despite the fact
that he didn’t lose anything but his five sickle ante in the last
hand, he’s dead set on us playing at least four more hands. A
hostile environment is nothing new to me, except normally I’m the
one bringing the hostility. As I look around, I see more than a few
faces that look like they’ll die before letting us leave.

My eyes meet Buff’s and he shakes his head.
The odds are against us—not the right time to pick a fight. I pull
my chair out and sit down, scattering my silver on the table. Buff
does the same, although his pile is much smaller than mine.

Gone are the smiles around the table,
replaced by narrowed eyes and glares. This is not a friendly card
game anymore, if it ever was to begin with.

“Deal,” Pierced-Ears commands Buff. Buff
scoops up the used cards and blends them back into the main deck.
Hands them to Twin-Two, who does a bit of blending of his own
before passing them back. Buff deals and I take a deep breath.

Four hands. We can just play it easy, fold
out each hand, losing only the ante. It’ll take a chunk out of the
winnings, but not so much that we won’t be able to take care of
what we owe Yo.

I look at my cards, if only for show. A crown
and small stone. Not the worst hand, but not the best either. I’ll
be careful with it. Buff doesn’t even look at his, just tosses them
into the center facedown. He’s got the right idea. Twin-Two bets
twenny sickles and I add my cards to the center before the betting
even makes it around. Pierced’s eyes never leave mine as he throws
in the required silver. The betting goes around and around as they
play out the hand, but still Pierced’s eyes are glued to me. I look
down, look away, count and recount my coins, but I can feel him on
my face, as if he’s physically touching me.

Pierced wins a sizeable pot and then it
starts over again, with Twin-Two dealing. Three more hands and then
we’re outta here, no big deal.

I lift just the corner of my cards to have a
peek, and then toss them in the center immediately, just a second
behind Buff’s even speedier fold. I had twin small stones. A
playable hand, but not worth losing any more silver over.

The hand plays out quickly and one of the
twins goes away with a pretty weak pot. Two to go. Fold and fold
and we’re done.

Mimicking Buff’s technique, I fold the next
hand without looking at my cards, but I can’t resist sliding them
in face up, where the twin crowns stare back at me, almost gleaming
brighter than the silver ante coins in the middle. A really strong
hand. I grit my teeth, trying to bite back the regret that tightens
in my throat. Regardless of whether playing the hand was a smart
move, showing my cards is high on the list of stupidest things I
could’ve done. Pierced smiles at me, but not kindly like he did
before, but with icicle teeth, cold and sharp, knowing full well
that I’m not playing for real anymore.

“Hmmm,” he muses. “I don’t think it counts if
you fold all five hands, isn’t that right Mobe?”

Long-Face has a name. Mobe straightens up,
drums his fingers on the table. “I’d have to check the rulebook,
but I think that’s right.”

“You said five hands,” I say between clenched
teeth. Fighting’s suddenly feeling like something I’d really like
to do.

“Rules are rules,” Pierced says.

“What do we have to do?” Buff says, trying to
placate Pierced. He can probably see the violence all over my face.
I got him in hot water with my temper once today—he won’t let me do
it again.

Pierced flicks a look at Buff. “Wise choice,
kid. If one of you bets in the next hand, then you’ll have
fulfilled your obligation to the table.”

I look at Buff—he looks back at me. It’ll be
more winnings lost, but worth it to avoid a fight. “Deal,” I
say.

The hand plays out with us waiting on the
sidelines. Long-Face wins a small pot; it’s almost as if no one was
really trying. Last hand. Ante plus one of us betting and it’s
over. My deal. I blend the cards, slide them to Pierced to blend
some more, and then hand them out facedown, two to each player.

When I look at my cards I feel a swirl of
exhilaration in my chest. Impossible. The chances of what’s just
happened have to be close to zero. For the second time in five
hands I’ve come up with twin boulders.

I
stare at my cards,
half-expecting them to morph into something more normal, like a
bear claw and a stick, or a medium stone and a crown. Anything but
what I’ve got. But the boulders remain, two big old rough eyes
staring right back at me. Maybe my prayer to the Heart of the
Mountain worked more than I thought.

“Your bet,” Pierced says.

My head snaps up, where everyone’s watching
me. I dealt, so I should be betting last, not first. But then I
notice: there’s a heaping pile of silver already in the center.
Everyone’s already bet, and by the looks of it, they’ve bet big.
“Sorry, I missed the bets,” I say, feeling stupid and
amateurish.

Pierced shakes his head like his child’s just
painted mud on the walls. Luckily, Buff helps me out. “Initial bet
was twenny. That was matched by everyone but me.” So Buff’s out
already, which means I have to bet. He’s left his cards face up as
if to prove to me that he had no choice. A stick and a small
boulder. One of the worst hands you can get.

“Thanks,” I mumble. So all I gotta do is
throw in twenny sickles and it’s over. We leave with whatever we’ve
got left. I do some quick math in my head. The one-oh-five I won in
the first hand is down to eighty five with the four antes. Take
away Buff’s four antes and we’re left with sixty five in winnings,
before I ever even bet this hand. If I throw in twenny now…well, an
extra forty five sickles will be nice, but they might not even
cover the repairs to Yo’s tables and chairs.

But I have no choice—I have to play. So if
I’ve got to play with twin boulders in my hand, I might as well
play big.

I shove forty sickles into the middle.

“Whoa, we’ve got a player,” Pierced exclaims,
rubbing his hands together. Like everyone else, me and Buff
included, I think he expected me to just throw away my twenny
sickles and run out with my tail between my legs. Not tonight.

He flips two more coins in and I watch as
everyone else except Buff does the same. It’s the biggest pot of
the night and not even a single draw card has been turned. I flip
the first card. A boulder! Excitement buzzes through me as I
realize I’m about to make both Buff and I rich. But amongst the
shower of silver coins that are floating through my mind, I see
only one face. Jolie’s. She’s smiling the biggest, happiest smile
I’ve ever seen as she comes home. Although I thought we started
this because of what happened at Yo’s, I realize now that
subconsciously I was always doing it for her—to bring our family
back together.

Although my butt’s glued to the very chair I
desperately wanted to leave not too long ago, I feel like I’m
flying way up high where the summer songbirds cut lazy circles
across the gray clouds. Nay, higher than that, above the clouds,
where the sky’s redder than blood and the sun’s hotter than chill.
Nothing can bring down my mood, not even a thirty sickle bet by one
of the twins. Everyone, including me, matches it, but I run a few
more coins through my fingers, trying to decide whether to add a
bet on top.

Anticipation of adding silver to the pot zips
up my spine. Everything feels so light, like I could fly right out
of here with all the silver on the table and a new life.

Somehow I manage to bet small, flattening my
face like a stone wall. Twenny more sickles. I expect a few folds,
but everyone matches. I meet Buff’s eyes, which are unblinking and
wider than the palace grounds.

I flip the second card. A medium stone. I’m
still way ahead with my triple boulders. No bets this time around,
so I throw in another twenny, which everyone matches. We’re all in
too deep to back down now, but what none of them knows is that I’ve
got them right where I want them.

Last card. A small stone, nothing against my
trifecta of boulders.

The final round of betting begins with a
surprise. Pierced-Ears raises an eyebrow and then pushes his entire
pile into the pot. My mouth drops open, and so does Buff’s, but
everyone else looks like it’s the most natural thing in the world
for him to do at this point, even though they have to all know I’ve
got a huge hand.

Then the folding begins. Both twins chuck
their cards into the mountain-sized pile of coins with gusto. A
couple of them flip over, a crown and an arrow, nothing that
could’ve stacked up against mine anyway. Long-Face shakes his head
and then flips his cards over to show us before folding. Twin
crowns. A good hand, but not good enough.

It’s down to me and Pierced and I can’t for
the life of me see how he could have me beat, and it doesn’t matter
anyway. I’ve already got so much riding on this hand that I was
always going to see it through to the end. I push whatever coins
I’ve got left into the pot.