Why did everyone always have to be so judgmental? Gary. Susanna. Harrison. They all thought so lowly of him. Why couldn’t they be supportive?
“Well, Ragsdale? You gonna call?”
Herbert looked at his resources. He didn’t have enough to call. Maybe they’d take an I.O.U. But what could he place under lien? He owned nothing of worth. Gladys had a few pieces of jewelry left, but most were paste and not the expensive gemstones she thought them to be.
“Ragsdale?” The dealer gave him a hard look.
“I’m trying to think. I don’t have the cash and was considering an I.O.U.” There, he’d said it. Now he’d see what their reactions might be.
“What do you have that’s worth anything?” the dealer asked.
“I ... well, I was just thinking...”
“He has a house,” one of the men declared. “A nice little place.”
“You have a house?” the dealer asked, his hard look softening. He smiled. “Of course we’d take an I.O.U. on the house.”
Gary poked his father in the ribs. “You can’t do that. Think of the risk.”
Herbert leaned in close to Gary. “But I have a good hand.”
“But it’s not your house,” Gary replied in a whisper.
The words hit Herbert like a slap in the face. He stared at his son for several seconds.
Gary got up, shaking his head. “I would think having done this once before would teach you a lesson. I’m out of here.”
A sick feeling bubbled up in Herbert’s stomach. He knew he had little choice. He threw his cards facedown on the table. “Too steep for my blood. I fold.”
The men grumbled and called him a chicken and other names, but Herbert followed his son out of the saloon like a whipped pup. How could he have honestly considered putting a lien on Susanna’s house? He truly was as much of a fool as they all thought him to be. He was no good. No good at anything. He’d stolen from Susanna once before and he’d been ready to do it again ... and all because he was certain he could make a killing on his cards.
“I’m glad you came to your senses,” Gary said. His tone betrayed his disgust.
“I don’t know what got into me.” Herbert felt overcome with guilt. “I don’t know what ever gets into me. I feel certain I have the upper hand on a thing, only to lose it all.”
They reached the hotel and went inside as quietly as possible. Thankfully, there was no sign of Harrison having learned of his deception.
Herbert breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been concerned that Harrison might have gotten up and come to check on him, but there was no sign of his brother.
In the family living quarters, Gary quickly rid himself of his hat, coat, and boots and headed for his room. He paused at the door. “Don’t ask me to play cards with you ever again. I am deeply ashamed of what you nearly did. You aren’t to be trusted.”
“But I didn’t do it, Gary. Isn’t that a good thing?” Herbert asked, hoping to smooth things over with his son.
Gary shook his head. “I wouldn’t have let you do it. I wouldhave told them the truth, and then they would have beat you to a pulp.” He left his father staring after him in surprise.
Herbert didn’t move for several moments. No one understood him or cared. No one. Gladys had only married him for his money, and over the years they had learned to tolerate each other and accommodate each other’s needs, but not out of love. Without money in his pocket, Gladys would no doubt find a way to walk away from him. She would suddenly remember a cousin somewhere who needed her or arrange to respite in some distant sanitarium.
He sank to the table and buried his face in his hands. What was he to do? His own brother wanted little to do with him, and why not? Tonight he had nearly put his daughter’s house at risk. He had known it was wrong, but he’d hardly been able to stop himself. If not for Gary, he would have done it. And lost everything once again.
There was no doubt in his mind that he would have lost. Nothing ever went his way. It didn’t matter that he’d held a full house in his hands. Someone else would have had the winning hand. They always did. He was nothing but a loser.
Guilt over how he’d treated his father made Gary uncomfortable as he tried to get ready for bed. He hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, but anger had motivated him. He finally stopped fighting his conscience and went to apologize.
He found his father at the table, face buried in his hands, weeping. Gary had never seen his father cry and found it disturbing. He pulled a chair close and put his arm around the older man. He didn’t know what to say or how to help him. It was clear he was broken and perhaps even contrite.
Gary whispered a prayer, although he’d never been much about praying. He wasn’t even sure he was doing it right.
Help me, God. Help me say the right thing.