Silently, Taylor listened to the other players around the table introduce themselves. They seemed safe enough, though he wasn't really here to make friends. The black man was from the Army - he could tell by the uniform he wore. They could probably have recognized each other, though he seemed a tad too young to have served in the war. Either way, he probably wouldn't appreciate his own war stories. 

Suddenly, Logan raised his question. Ah, fuck. He wanted to be friendly. What if he was a Pinkerton? Shit, what if he recognized him right now and was planning to truss him up outside? His attention returned to the hunting knife he kept hidden in his coat. He also noticed the outline of the Native man's tomahawk concealed under his vest.

Focus, Taylor. Focus. Remember the plan.

"Uh, Johnson. Barnabus Johnson. Bounty hunter." 

Taylor looked at his cards. Not too great, but not terrible either. He could fold, but he decided he would raise the stakes on the table and ride his bet out to the end.