Blind Rage meets Dumb Luck

Blind Rage meets Dumb Luck

Have you ever heard the the age old question from the Chinese; “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object”?

Well this story is exactly that but completely different. It’s the 1870’s Western version, asking; “Whatchu reckon would happen when them-there blind rage a-meets dumb luck?”

This so happens to be a tale that I myself was a witness to, so the details might be fuzzy but the story remains the same. See I owned the local watering hole in the little town of Lily, South Dakota, by the name of Gutshot Saloon. That in itself is a story involving the our now deceased Mayor, his pistol toting wife and one of my saloon girls . . . but that’s a story for another time.

Now don’t go trying to look it up, it was only a small supply town with a church, my saloon and a general store. Also about forty odd something people. We didn’t get much visitors but once the great gold rush to Deadwood started in 1874, well we were doing pretty Ace-high.

Now the two fellers that this particular story is about are from different walks of life. First we have Todd ‘Ragin Bull’ Saunders. He was a thirty-something year old that worked at the general store; slaughtering cattle and doing the heavy lifting around the shop. He was big as an ox and maybe half as smart, also mostly drunk and always angry. Got the ‘Raging Bull’ nickname on account of him always losing his temper when he loses a poker match at the Gutshot. He wore the name with pride though, even had a silver bull pin made to put on his hat.

Now Todd was well known to beat anyone physically if they won him in poker, so at the point in time where this all happened he had to sneak into local games to find any kind of action.

The second man was a bit of an odd stick. A young man only known as Lucky Lew, and he only introduced himself as such. The first time I met the greenhorn was back in my snake-oil trading days when I sold him castor oil as a remedy to his wart problem. . .only to have him come back two weeks later and it actually worked. The lad had almost supernatural luck, but that had to make up for the fact that he was tall, thinly built, buck toothed, red haired and flat footed. He was a flannel mouth though, and the ladies loved him. Something I always attributed to his uncanny luck.

Now this particular taradiddle happened on a Friday night. I had my regulars in the saloon and somehow old Ragin’ Bull had wormed his way into a game with two dandies on their way to Deadwood and an grizzled old prospector from up the way we just called Toothless Joe. The two dandies had, luckily for them, lost early in the game but not before the pot was close to a thousand dollars. The only two at the table were Todd and Joe, and I saw the way the old man was shaking when he dealt the cards. If he won, chances were Ragin’ Bull would tan his hide, but a thousand dollars would go a long way, and maybe this time the oaf wouldn’t lose his temper.

While the dealing was happening I heard my saloon doors open and in walked that goofy looking Lucky Lew, I greeted the man and after I gave him his shot of whiskey, he made his way to the table where the game was taking place. By this time the toothless old coot was shaking so bad he was almost dropping his cards. I saw him putting his cards down on the table and standing up, shaking his head and swearing under his breath. Todd was smiling broadly and reaching for the winnings when I heard Lucky Lew speak.

“Howdy pardner, mind if I join in this here game?”

Ragin’ Bull was drunk and looking for a dustup and I heard him reply. “Sure thing, scarecrow. If you play Toothless Joe’s hand.”

“I reckon that’s only fair, friend! You gots yourself a deal.” Lucky Lew replied before sitting down and picking up the prospectors cards.

At this point everyone, including myself, were staring at the table. Toothless Joe had stopped right in the saloon doorway and was staring with his mouth catching flies. Todd was smiling broadly, revealing his rows of broken teeth and he threw all his cards down on the table, not even caring what it was. I did hear someone closer to the table whisper that it was only a pair.

Lucky Lew smiled and let out a low whistle as he started rocking back on his chair. “Well lookee here! I don’ understand why that old coot would throw away this hand, but WHOOEEE! I sure am glad I done took it!”

At this point Saunders was starting to blow like a bull ready to charge. I could see the veins bulging on his neck and even some dribble running out of the corner of his mouth. I started reaching for my trusty old sawn’off shotgun, Becky, that’s never too far from my side, unlike my previous two wives. I was pretty sure Todd was going to beat Lew to death right there in my saloon.

“Stap yappin your trap and play the hell damned cards, you ugly sum-bitch!” Todd was almost chocking on the words and his right hand was balled into a fist.

What happened next was faster than a greased lightning bolt, and I would never have acknowledged the corn if I wasn’t there myself. Lucky Lew dropped his cards on the table and loudly claimed “Full house, friend!”

Todd jumped to his feet and brought his ham sized fist down on the table. This was his usual tactic of scaring the other players and sometimes my table even broke. However this particular table was in apple pie order, solid wood planks and heavy too. As luck would have it the very plank Todd slammed down on flipped straight into his face with the same force he applied to it. With a heavy thud and a crunch it broke his nose and sent him staggering backwards. The bull pin in his hat came clean off and landed with a ping of silver right in front of Lucky Lew.

I had my trusty Becky in hand now I was now very sure that Ragin’ Bull was wanting to give Lew a Jessy. Instead the man fell straight backwards, and with a heavy thud that rattled my wooden floors, he was out like a candle. Lucky Lew gathered his winnings and I saw him pick up the pin, tucking it into his shirt before he made a quiet escape from the scene. I reckoned that was more smart than lucky thought.

A few days later rumors started circulating of a man that put Todd Ragin’ Bull Saunders down with one punch, and he even had his famous pin to prove it. I didn’t correct them since it brought people to the saloon.

What happened to Todd Ragin’ Bull Saunders you ask? Well he woke up a few hours later, asked us where the scrawny sum-bitch went that stole his money. I told him he went into a random direction I made up and well. . .we haven’t seen him since. The general goods store got a new, nicer feller doing the heavy lifting and the town is a lot calmer now.

Guess some of Lew’s luck rubbed off on us.