Ice Country(13)

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.





Chapter Five





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.