Castor's Tale Chapter 5 Part 1 - A Card Game To Remember

Kinnard looked over his cards, seeing that he had a two, four, seven, and a baron. That meant that there were three other barons in the pile, or in other players’ hands. He had joined the game after speaking with Susie, who had gone back to the kitchen to make an evening meal for , seeing if he could not only make some money, but also to smoke out the cheating player.

It was Kinnard’s turn to play. He had two choices: discard a card and either take the top one on the pile of unused cards, or wait for his next turn and take two. There was a measure of risk in either chance, but that is how the game was played. Kinnard smiled, discarding his two and differing to choose two cards next turn.

So the others went, two of them drawing new cards, three of them waiting for their next turn. Kinnard eyed the small amount of coin on the table. It was barely enough to pay for a night’s stay at a well-run inn, but it was better than nothing. The player beside him puffed on a large pipe, and just as Kinnard grabbed his two cards, one of which was a baron, the other a three, the man blew a fresh wave of smoke. Kinnard coughed and covered his mouth with his coat sleeve.

The man beside him seemed to barely notice the fact, and did his turn, drawing two cards. One it came to the man who was no doubt cheating, Kinnard said: “Got an itch on your back?”

The man looked up, slightly startled, and replaced a card, then nodded slowly, reaching back to his shoulder. “As a matter of fact, yes, I do.”

Kinnard gave a slim smile, and then looked at his own cards. In the coughing fit, he had pulled a card from his sleeve as pre-planned. Now he held three barons. He threw several gold coins to the table, forcing the others to match it or drop out. Three of the five did. The smoking man and the cheater stayed, apparently confident in their cards.

“I play,” said Kinnard, spreading out the three barons and the five on the table. The smoking man muttered something inaudible. Then he stood from the table angrily, walking off to get a drink. “Three bloomin’ baron’s he has!”

The cheater looked at Kinnard with a grim face, his lips formed in a tight line. He showed his cards on the table. An eight, and three barons. He must be pretty confident he can get his way out of this one. Kinnard watched silently as the other players responded, first with stunned looked, then their faces contorted into frowns and anger. The smoking man, who had just returned, gasped.

“What the devil is goin’ on? How come there be six barons! What cheatin’ is goin’ on!” He turned to Kinnard, pointing a grubby finger at Kinnard. “It’s you ain’t it?”

Kinnard remained in his seat, but stayed on the edge of it, ready to jump up if needs be. He spoke calmly to the group. “It was me.”

Their mouths gaped in surprise. After all, who would expect a man to admit to cheating, especially when he could more than likely fend for himself in a brawl, judging from his display earlier? The cheater stared at Kinnard, as if trying to read his mind. Kinnard smiled and winked at him.

“Yes, you see I cheated, but only to show you that he cheated.” Kinnard pointed at the man across from him, the cheater. “I saw him do it earlier and thought I’d teach him a short lesson.”

One of the other burly and rough men stood from his seat. “How can we trust you? We’ve been playin’ with him for near an hour, and never was there too many barons.”

Kinnard nodded, folding his hands in his lap. “Yes, and you also will see that except for a few rounds where the wages were very low, he has won everyone.” Kinnard pointed to the man’s sizable stash of money in front of him. It was much larger than any of the other men’s. “See? I had one baron which I switched in my ‘coughing fit’.” He turned to the smoking man who was still puffing away like there was no tomorrow. “Thank you for that distraction by the way. It really helped.”

The man snarled. “So you be sayin’ that he cheated us and you cheated to show us that he’s cheatin’?”

The other men just stared at him, trying to work out what he said. Kinnard nodded and smiled approvingly. “Very keen you are. Now, I propose a solution to this problem. The cheating man gives back all the money he stole from you, but gets back everything he betted, and leave immediately. I take what little I betted and none of you lose any money.”

The cheater’s eyes squinted. “And what if I say I didn’t cheat? You can’t prove it weren’t you that added more barons.”

Kinnard couldn’t resist the grin that spread over his face. “Well, then we can fight it out, one on one.” His eyes sparkled with a fire that obviously shook the man. Although he was bigger, he had seen what Kinnard could do, and was no doubt weighing his options.

Finally he stood abruptly, counted out a fair amount of coins from the pile, glared at Kinnard and left. As he reached the door he turned back. “This isn’t over, stranger!” With that he left, slamming the door so hard that the animal head on the shook visibly. The others looked at Kinnard strangely, trying to figure out what to think of him.

Kinnard quickly took the coins he betted, put them in his money pouch, nodded to the all, and left for his wagon. Although he had no doubt that he could beat them in a fight, he didn’t want to risk being injured. Wouldn’t want to try to climb to Mount Crusto with a bruised up shoulder. He opened the door to the inn and stepped out into the dimming light. The sun was spreading out across the sky directly in front of him. It splashed like a spilled liquid, red and orange and yellow. Kinnard sighed, content to behold such a natural beauty for a few seconds. Mable’s whinny caused his head to turn in the direction of his wagon.

He stepped over to where his horses were grazing on a few tufts of grass. Kinnard stepped over. Mable didn’t usually give a whinny like that, a high-pitched cry, unless there was an unknown or dangerous presence.

Kinnard casually took off his coat and threw it on his wagon seat, trying t hear or see anything. He stretched his arms and gave a nonchalant gaze around. He didn’t see anything. But it was possible that someone was hiding inside the wagon or on the other side of it. He climbed the wagon seat, humming softly, talking to Mable.

“I’ll be there to brush your mane in a few minutes Mable, just let me find my brush in here.”

He quickly poked his head in to the wagon. It was dark inside because of the sheet covering the little sunlight left. There were bangs and chests for clothing and food, but no person or creature that Kinnard could see. So the person had to be on the other side of the wagon. Kinnard banged things around, making his way towards the back, pretending to be searching for the horse brush.

“Where is that brush! I had it right here in this bag.” he said in a frustrated tone. He stubbed his toe on something and glanced down, and saw a stack of books protruding from under some clothes. The top one was entitled: How To Write a journal Or Diary, By Deanie Coldson.

He slowly glanced out of the back of the wagon. No one was there. He dropped out in a crouch, quickly turning to the last side of the wagon. He stared straight into the blade of a short dagger. A short wiry man who looked to be about twenty stood, dressed in a cut-off jerkin and dirty brown pants. His right arm was covered in blood that had dried and hardened. In the fading light it was a dark purple. It had spilled onto his other articles of clothing and made a long streak down his pants.