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Mr. Logan gave Taylor, Billy and then Mistihkoman a tight-lipped and annoyed smile at their statements about keeping his money. "Lady Luck is a fickle mistress, [i]gentlemen[/i]," he said, managing to sound as if he thought them anything [i]but[/i].  He put his dollar down on the table and then adjusted his clean tie with his meticulously trimmed fingernails, a somewhat obvious tell that he was displeased with his cards. "Perhaps she'll decide to smile on me this hand."

He glanced over at the woman smoking a cigar and then the young man that looked like he'd barely stepped off the train yesterday. He sighed in further annoyance. That either of them had even managed to win a couple dollars was exceedingly perturbing.

No one had asked him directly, but he inserted himself into the small talk anyway to hide his rather poor poker face. "So Big Knife is a hunter.  What do the rest of you do for a living?  Myself, I'm actually in the cattle business.  Originally from Georgia, but I've been out here for awhile now."


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[i]There are others scattered around the room besides the saloonkeeper and the poker players: 2 men playing pool, a man at the piano, plus 4 roughnecks at the bar (there'd been 5 before Mary's would-be suitor left with a bloodied nose) and 4 at the second table, one of which glances over at the poker game every once in awhile.[/i]