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Great Writing - Home > SF > The Riverboat Wrangler: Part 1
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Science Fiction and Fantasy
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| The Riverboat Wrangler: Part 1 | |
| By Mr_E_Writer | ||||||||||||||||||||
| 14 May 2008 | ||||||||||||||||||||
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. Thick black smoke billowed into the cool, blue afternoon air as the paddle steamer 'Wilton Weaver' eased away from the old wooden jetty at Broadloom Weft. At the gaming table, Rogue Tuft threw his carpet bag on the floor and slid onto a Chesterfield. "Double down on a black and face-up the red queen to an ace." "I'll cover that bet," said Desiree Desire, self appointed Madam of the riverboat queens. Rogue looked up with contempt. "I don't need no rent lady bailing for me. If my mung's not good enough I'll wager my bet at another table." "Cool your 'tude," said the dealer, passing Rogue three new cards and a cube of best chewing hemp. "My table's open to all who can pay their distance." Rogue studied his hand, his steely blue eyes and rugged features concealing the fact that he sat on a bouncing flush with red jacks on the side. It was a win win hand that would pay his way to the end of the river. Rogue followed the dealer's advice and played it cool. "I'll raise a fifty and pass to the left." Berber Bob raised an eyebrow. "Sunlike you ta fole on a wager s'weasy, Rogue. Y'am trine ta be bluffen me? Should never bluff de bluffer." "And never talk with your cards open," said Rogue and went for his Williamson. "Easy, boys," suggested the barkeep, waving a splattergun towards the green baize. "I wouldn't want to send none of you fellas for no crocodile bath iffen yous fulla holes." Rogue reached for the wedge pile at the centre of the table. "Then I believe that I'll just take my winnings and take my leave, gentlemen." "Not so fast, Rogue," said Desiree and clubbed him across the back of the head with a slogger. When Rogue awoke he found himself tied to a bed and surrounded by unshaven rent runners in matching pink dresses. He knew instinctively that his pockets were empty and his holsters bare. With no guns (an no mung with which to pay for his release), Rogue was at the mercy of the riverboat lady-boys. The game had been a double bluff and now it was his cards that were on the table. Rogue knew he would have to think on his feet; no easy task when anchored to a kingsize divan. "Okay, laydeez. Keep your pistols in your pockets and let's talk business. Will you take an IOU?" Andy-mandy stepped forward (at 6'2" he was the tallest rent runner that Rogue had come across). "Sorry honeybunch, but we don't do IOU's. Besides, your biro's red and your pencil out of led." "How about a cheque?" enquired Rogue, clutching at straws and drawing shorts. "We'll take a cheek, maybe two. No hard feelings." "That's easy for you to say," replied Rogue and wriggled against his bonds. The noise of frilly lace underwear hitting the floor was deafening. IS THIS THE END FOR ROGUE? Find out in Part 2 - "Coming Soon".
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