The Card Game

© 2001 Richard H. Williams
All rights reserved.

Then many hands rolled down the dusty, green shades which extended the length of the showroom windows. When the lights and the movements within had been concealed from the eyes of the night without, many feet shuffled back, single file, following an imaginary line parallel to the bright, brass footrail which adorned the deep mahogany bar. The feet scattered the sawdust covering the oak planks of the floor.

A man, bound and gagged, was lying in the corner furthest from the windows and across from the bar. He uttered muffled cries as the men again came toward him. His eyes were wide and bulged with terror. Unable to control his bowels, he sobbed helplessly as he felt warmth against his legs.

They seized him with unkind hands and stood him upon a chair. They fitted the noose of thick, heavy hemp to his neck and then unbound him. The chair was unceremoniously kicked from under him. The rope went taut.

But the job was not yet complete. White tablecloths were brought from the closet and chairs, the oval table, the bar, all of the liquors and mixes, and the shuffleboard were completely covered. All of the living men went into the next room and changed their clothes. They came back, single file and intent, each wearing old canvas shoes, a heavy wool shirt, and blue work trousers. Shiny metal objects dangled from their hands. They carried knives and machetes.

The men took turns, lining up according to some prearranged plan. Ten full minutes were occupied by slashing, cutting, and hacking. After they removed the blood-soaked garments and resumed their original dress, after the bespattered tablecloths were taken up, after the russet-colored sawdust had been deposited in a box, all evidence was moved out the back door to the waiting pickup truck.

Forty-five minutes later the men returned from their short trip. Fresh sawdust was spread on the floor, the dusty green shades were rolled back up, and the card game was resumed.

"Hell," muttered one of the men as he lit a cigar. "Nothing' I hate more than them city-slicker cardsharps thinking they can cheat us locals."

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