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Shane's eyes moved back to the woman who still clung around Josh's neck. He grew cold inside as he watched her motioning to a man across the table from Josh, giving him finger signals to tell him what was in Josh's spread hand of cards. The woman was helping the man cheat!
Taking slow, calculated steps closer, Shane positioned himself behind the man who was the recipient of the hand signals. He removed his knife from the sheath at his waist and waited for Josh and the man to discard, and for the man to drag in his winnings.
"Seems you've got a run of bad luck today, Josh," the man said, laughing boisterously as he reached out his hand and covered the coins with them. As he started to drag the coins toward him, Shane flipped the knife down beside his hand, causing the man to yowl with fright and jerk his hand back.
Cursing, the man turned and eyed Shane angrily. Slowly he pushed his chair back and rose
to his feet. "You'd better have a good reason for doin' that, sonny," the man said, scowling at Shane as he slowly eased his hand toward his holstered revolver.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Shane said, eyeing the pistol. "My brother has a gun on you beneath the table."
The man's eyes wavered, looking from Shane, to Josh, then back to Shane. "Yourbrother?" he stammered.
"That's what I said," Shane said, not taking his eyes off the man's hand, now frozen in mid-air.
"Josh ain't wearin' no gun," the man said, laughing nervously.
"Are you positive of that?" Shane said, grinning slowly.
The man kneaded his chin. "I didn't notice one before," he said.
"One way to find out is to test him," Shane said, inching his way around the table. He grabbed the whore by the wrist and held her immobile beside him. "But I think the best way to settle this is to have this little woman here admit to what she was doing to help you win against my brother."
The man swallowed hard. "I reckon you saw?" he said, dropping his hand to his side, away from his gun.
"You damn well know that I did," Shane said, shoving the whore away from him. "And so did everyone else. I guess you all wanted to see Josh Brennan lose today, huh?"
"Take the money, Josh," the man said, leaning down to shove the coins back over to Josh. "No hard feelings, I hope."
Josh had sat through all of this scarcely aware of what was happening. He had drowned his brain, and his ability to think straight, with alcohol. He looked up at Shane, blinking his eyes to clear his vision.
"Shane?" he said in a drunken slur. "What'cha doin' here? Huh?"
Shane looked down at his brother, pitying him. It did not seem possible that Josh could be capable of poisoning cattle one night and beheading a longhorn the next, for at this moment he was not
even aware of what was happening around him. He had no idea, even, that his brother had saved him a lot of moneyand perhaps even his hide!
Josh shoved his chair back and rose shakily to his feet. He touched Shane's face, then patted it. "Hi, Shane," he said, laughing oddly. "Wanna drink?"
Shane gave Josh a silent stare, then leaned over the table and scooped up the coins. He shoved them into his brother's front breeches pocket, then guided him from the establishment.
"Where's your room?" Shane asked, steadying his brother against him. "I've come to talk, but I don't think it's necessary any longer. I think I've got all the answers I need."
"My room?" Josh said, idly scratching his brow.
"I'd take you home with me, but I don't think you're up to the ride," Shane said. "You've got to sleep off the whiskey, Josh. Then we'll do some serious talking about your coming home where you belong."
"I belong here," Josh said, tossing an arm around Shane's shoulder. He nodded toward a steep staircase that led up to a room over the saloon. "My room is up there, Shane. Want to join me there for a drink?"
"Josh, knowing how you feel about me, I know you must be drunk to be offering me all these kindnesses," Shane said, his voice drawn. He let Josh place his full weight on him and began walking him toward the stairs. "I'll take you up to your room and get you settled into a bed and, by damn, Josh, you stay there until you're sober.
You're in no shape to do anything, much less gamble with men who are ready to take everything you own. Take my word for it, those men were ready to skin you alive."
"I'll beat 'em all to hell next time," Josh said, laughing boisterously. A keen dizziness overtook him. "But for now, I think I do need to get a few winks of sleep."
"And then some more," Shane growled, finally at the head of the stairs. He opened the door and half dragged his brother into a dimly lit room that reeked of whiskey and dirty bed clothing. He cringed when he looked slowly around him at the empty whiskey bottles and half-smoked cigars that cluttered the floor. The bed was covered with yellowed sheets, and roaches crawled along the walls and floors. A dark green window shade was pulled closed, emitting cracks of light through slits cut into its rotten fabric.
"So this is what you call home now, Josh?" Shane said, helping Josh to the bed and easing him down onto it. "How can you prefer this over living at the farm with me? Is being around me all that intolerable?"
