A Call By Wild Bill by N. C. Wyeth (1916)
His Pa was from the Bayou, not far from Thibodaux. His mother, from El Paso, by way of Mexico. Though he was born in Texas and considered Texican, he cursed a lot in Cajun; and his songs were Mexican.
He’d played a lot of poker from Big D to San Antone. Sometimes it cost him plenty- near everything he owned. But New Orleans was different. It was good to Tex Lafitte. He seldom lost a poker game while down on Bourbon Street.
The wailing horns of Bourbon Street pulsated in his blood. He’d sink into their rhythms as if sucked by bayou mud. He liked the beat on Bourbon Street. He liked its boozy blues; and when he played on Bourbon Street he’d very seldom lose.
Bourbon Street, he said, was where his lucky lady stayed. On Bourbon Street, she held his hand most every game he played. The fact is, down on Bourbon Street, his luck was just the same; but with more verve and far more nerve, he played a different game.
One Mardi Gras, a few years back, it seems that Tex Lafitte met an East Coast card sharp, down on Bourbon Street. The card slick knew most every trick and tried out quite a few…. but none of it availed him much because Tex knew them, too. Tex just plain outplayed him at every trick he tried. There wasn’t much Tex failed to see; Nor card the slick could hide.
The stranger played the poker game as if he’d won a lot; but when the game was over it was Tex that won the pot. The stranger lost more than the pot. The stranger lost his cool. He called Lafitte a dirty cheatin’, two-bit greaser’s fool. He bellowed many curses out; but kept repeating one. Lafitte was just a “dirty cheatin’ two-bit greaser’s son”.
Tex ignored him till the stranger flashed a loaded gun; and said that only one of them would walk when night was done. Two shots exploded in the air, and echoed in the street. One was from the stranger’s gun; one shot was from Lafitte.
The stranger had a crystal ball. The words he said came true, that only one of them would walk when the night was through. Only one survived the night… as threatened…only one… the one he called the “dirty cheatin’, two-bit greaser’s son”.
Bette Wolf Duncan copyright1999
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