The Outlaws: Jess by Connie Mason Page A

as he searched the fences and posts for wanted posters
bearing bad drawings of the Gentry brothers. The streets were a
seething mass of men and women from all walks of life.
Fancy-dressed gamblers, railroad workers, farmers, ranchers,
shifty-eyed criminal types, whores looking for a quick two bits,
and a few decently dressed women and children.
    Jess dismounted in front of the Whistle Stop
saloon and tied his horse to the hitching post. It had been far too
long since he'd tasted a beer or felt a shot of whisky slide down
his throat. The way he felt now, he could drink the saloon dry.
Drowning himself in alcohol seemed a pleasant way to forget how
damn good Meg felt in his arms, how she had melted against him and
opened up to his kiss. God, he wanted her.
    Jess walked into the saloon and bellied up to
the bar. Several men eyed him curiously but quickly turned away
when they saw he presented no threat. Jess reached into his pocket,
found a silver dollar, slapped it on the bar, and asked for whisky.
From the way he acted, no one would have guessed it was the last
dollar he owned. The bartender placed a glass and a bottle in front
of him. Jess nodded his thanks, picked up the glass and bottle, and
wandered over to a table.
    The whisky slid down his throat smooth and
warm. Two tables away five men were engaged in a poker game. Jess
stretched his long legs in front of him, sipped his whisky and
watched the players. Jess had always handled himself well at poker.
He couldn't count the times he and his brothers had ridden into
Dodge when they needed money and won enough at the tables to
satisfy their immediate needs. He didn't like to brag, but he was
better at it than Rafe, though not quite as good as Sam, who took
to the game like a duck to water.
    The stakes grew larger and the men became
more reckless with their betting. Jess concentrated on each man's
face, watching attentively as they played their hand. After a few
hands, he discovered he could correctly read each player's hands by
watching their expressions. A plan began to form in his mind. He
had nowhere to go, no money, and virtually no hope of practicing
medicine without money to set up an office. He was desperate enough
to try anything, and that game looked damn inviting.
    Jess reached into his vest pocket and
withdrew the solid gold pocketwatch that had once belonged to his
father. There had been time to do little more than stuff a memento
or two in their pockets when he and his brothers had fled from
their farm with the posse on their heels. Rafe had taken their
mother's wedding ring, Sam had selected their father's gold
cufflinks, and he had chosen the watch.
    Jess dangled the watch by its gold fob. Could
he do it? Should he lose he'd have nothing; no watch, no money.
Just his medical bag and the few instruments it contained. Was it
worth it? Maybe he should find a job and save against the day he'd
have enough to open his practice.
    It could take him forever and he didn't have
forever.
    Jess wasn't even aware he had risen from his
chair and approached the poker table until he was standing beside
it.
    "Can anyone join in?"
    Five pairs of eyes regarded him with
interest.
    "You got money?" a rough man with a day's
growth of beard asked.
    "I've got this," Jess said, dangling the
watch by its gold chain.
    A man nattily dressed in fancy duds held out
his hand. "Let's see it."
    Jess handed over the watch to the man who had
all the markings of a professional gambler.
    "Aw, let the man sit in, Fisk," a
distinguished looking man wearing a dark suit said. "We need some
new blood."
    Fisk inspected the watch carefully. "Belong
to your pa, did it?" he asked Jess.
    Jess nodded. "It's solid gold."
    "You must be desperate for a game if you'd
risk an heirloom," Fisk said, turning the watch over in his hands.
"It's gold, all right. What do you say, boys, shall we deal the
tenderfoot in?"
    When no one objected, Jess pulled up a
chair.
    "Five card stud," Fisk said, dealing out