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mickilennial
Bill chewed on the end of a smoked piece of beef. He lounged on one of the rickety cots that covered the barrack floor. Or what passed for a barrack out here in the Wild. On his hip was strapped his trust sword. His rifle was within easy reach. His knit cap was pulled low over his ears for warmth. His other brigade members were perched on their cots, pulled close to his.
"Moon." Scruffy, A scruffy man; scruffy even compared to Bill, called tossing the tarot card onto Bill's cot.
The moon card set off a flurry of movement as everyone scoured their cards for the right one.
"Sun." Carlos, a Mexican, called.
Bill ripped off a piece of meat and wolfed it down as quickly as he could. They had long since stopped playing with his deck of cards. Instead some brigadier had stolen the tarot cards from somewhere. They played with them with a slapdash irreverence. Theoretically according to superstition their play could still tell the future, but Bill didn't care. And neither did any of the men they were with. None of them knew what the cards meant in any order. So even if it did happen, they'll be blissfully unaware. Anyways, they didn't play divination tarot. They just played Tarot the gambling game.
"Jack." Bill said around his full mouth and tossed his card onto the growing pile.
"Aint it time for the hoopla?" Scruffy asked around a wad of chewing tobacco. "Aint you and Alex supposed to be there?"
Bill eyed Scruffy and grunted. "Prob'ly." He allowed.
"Alex's gonna be pissed if you miss it." Scruffy helpfully pointed out.
Bill just exhaled loudly and continued the game.
"Yankee just donna wanna lose." Carlos sniggered as he claimed the cards.
Bill tossed his next wager at the Mexican's face. "At least I ain't a filthy bandito."
There was a moment of silence before Carlos launched himself at Bill and they ended up toppling the cot as they wrestled on the floor. There were muffled shouts of insults and You take that back. In the end, it stopped when Bill had the smaller Mexican pinned on the ground.
"You yield?" Bill asked. Carlos slapped the ground and Bill helped him to his feet.
"One of these days I'm gonna get ye yank." Carlos muttered. There was no ill will on either side.
"Sure. Sure." Bill righted his cot and they all looked at the strewn cards. None of their betting money was anywhere to be found. Two pairs of eyes turned to Scruffy who wisely offered them back their money. Bill snatched his share and shoved it in his pocket.
"Guess I better be off." Bill sighed again. "No sense in getting everyone's britches in a knot."
"Moon." Scruffy, A scruffy man; scruffy even compared to Bill, called tossing the tarot card onto Bill's cot.
The moon card set off a flurry of movement as everyone scoured their cards for the right one.
"Sun." Carlos, a Mexican, called.
Bill ripped off a piece of meat and wolfed it down as quickly as he could. They had long since stopped playing with his deck of cards. Instead some brigadier had stolen the tarot cards from somewhere. They played with them with a slapdash irreverence. Theoretically according to superstition their play could still tell the future, but Bill didn't care. And neither did any of the men they were with. None of them knew what the cards meant in any order. So even if it did happen, they'll be blissfully unaware. Anyways, they didn't play divination tarot. They just played Tarot the gambling game.
"Jack." Bill said around his full mouth and tossed his card onto the growing pile.
"Aint it time for the hoopla?" Scruffy asked around a wad of chewing tobacco. "Aint you and Alex supposed to be there?"
Bill eyed Scruffy and grunted. "Prob'ly." He allowed.
"Alex's gonna be pissed if you miss it." Scruffy helpfully pointed out.
Bill just exhaled loudly and continued the game.
"Yankee just donna wanna lose." Carlos sniggered as he claimed the cards.
Bill tossed his next wager at the Mexican's face. "At least I ain't a filthy bandito."
There was a moment of silence before Carlos launched himself at Bill and they ended up toppling the cot as they wrestled on the floor. There were muffled shouts of insults and You take that back. In the end, it stopped when Bill had the smaller Mexican pinned on the ground.
"You yield?" Bill asked. Carlos slapped the ground and Bill helped him to his feet.
"One of these days I'm gonna get ye yank." Carlos muttered. There was no ill will on either side.
"Sure. Sure." Bill righted his cot and they all looked at the strewn cards. None of their betting money was anywhere to be found. Two pairs of eyes turned to Scruffy who wisely offered them back their money. Bill snatched his share and shoved it in his pocket.
"Guess I better be off." Bill sighed again. "No sense in getting everyone's britches in a knot."
