Taylor had been drinking quite a bit during the night, so he misheard Logan's question and took a bit of time to notice what he was doing with the chips. Stealing all the bets back? He had seen a lot of stupid folks during his lifetime, but no way could a man at the tables be [i]that[/i] stupid - he was probably joking, maybe he was a bit drunk, surely someone would come and quiet him down...

Until he saw the Indian unsheathe his tomahawk.

He then realized the full gravity of the situation.

This man wasn't a Pinkerton, he was infinitely worse - a [i]cheat.[/i] 

And bit by bit, he remembered what happened the last time he came across a cheat.

As the tomahawk slammed down on the table, Logan angrily unsheathed his hidden hunting knife from his belt, its wide blade gleaming in the lantern-light. He pointed it straight at Logan, taking note of the hired muscle starting to surround him - no wonder he was so confident. But no matter. He would go for the prick's throat before any of them could bat an eye.

"I will gut you like a [i]pig,[/i] boy," he snarled at the well-dressed man. "My fucking money, or your fucking life."