Sympathy for the Devil - By Tim Pratt Page 0,69

cards flitted from the box and the coins clinked together into higher piles in front of the Devil. One shot found its mark. Long Nose dropped into the grass. A soldier laughed. McGregor laid another bet. The Devil turned the crank on the case. There was a sound like ripe fruit falling and a soldier raised a sword dripping with Fallen Star’s blood.

The battle fell silent, even the sound of the river fell away.

“That seems to be that, Bill,” said Nick Scratch. He nodded, friendly-like to the cavalry sergeant.

Bill glanced at Wihio. “He’s a hasty one, isn’t he?” said Wihio.

“Patience is a virtue,” said Bill from behind the blanket of calm Wihio kept around him. “He’s real short on virtue.”

“You don’t say, Gambler? And why hasn’t he got Standing-in-the-West, yet? Can you tell me that?”

Bill scratched his chin. “I’d say it’s ’cause he ain’t kept his side of the bargain yet. White Men’re still here, aren’t they?”

“Oh, is that the way it works?” Wihio nodded. “I see.”

Thunder rumbled from underground. “You’ve got another bet, Bill, I see it in you. Put it down or walk away.”

“Go ahead, Gambler,” said Wihio.

Bill scanned the battlefield and saw nothing but strangers’ faces among the dead. He swallowed hard, drew out the coyote’s tail and laid it on the king.

The Devil grinned from ear to ear. “And I thought you at least had brains, Wihio.”

He drew out a fresh card. The nine of spades. With one fine hand he picked up the tail.

“Now, Dog,” the Devil said. “Heel!”

Wihio whimpered and limped to the Devil’s side, his tail tucked between his legs.

Without the shelter Wihio gave him, the world slammed against McGregor. The steel taste of blood filled his mouth and all around him lay the victims of the battle; the dead and the worse-than-dead who could still scream. This was no dream. This was smoke and stench and heat and fear. Waves of it. Billows of it, surrounding Bill, pressing him down, drowning him. This was the riot in Fort Summner. This was how the Devil kept his bargain and how he’d serve his new people.

“You’ve lost, Bill.” Heat flickered through the Devil’s voice.

“N. . .ot yet,” stammered Bill. “I’ve got one more bet.”

“Now what could you possibly have left to lay on this table, Bill?” The Devil kicked Wihio sharply. The coyote yelped and cowered. “You’ve bet the soul of a whole people and lost it.”

“My life.”

The devil actually looked startled.

McGregor drew out his revolver. “I’m a preacher’s son, Devil. I know this much. You may have a spot in Hell for my soul, but as long as I’m alive, I could still go straight. I can repent any time before I die and save myself, work on savin’ those young folks you talked about. But if I lose this turn, I’m your boy, before and after I die,” he took the gun by the barrel and held the hilt towards the Devil.

“Bill McGregor, you’ve got fewer brains than Wihio.”

“Silky.”

Bill swung around. Ned stood behind him, blood oozing out of his chest and spilling onto his hands. “Silky,” he coughed. “He’s put me up against your life. Hurry, Bill. I…It hurts.”

“Oh, my…” Bill felt all the life drain out of his cheeks. “Ned. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Ned stretched out his hands. He was white like snow, like death. His round face had already fallen into lines and angles. “Hurry, Bill. Get me out of this. Place your bet.”

“No,” said Bill.

“Then I win,” said the Devil.

“Bill!” shouted Ned.

Bill forced himself to turn away from his friend. “Then take your winnings and go,” he clutched the gun barrel. “If you can. The way I see it, the game’s not over yet. And it won’t be until I’ve laid my last bet.”

“Bill!” Ned was screaming. Bill heard him fall. He closed his eyes and prayed with all his heart and soul that he had it right. This was the real gamble, not the way the cards came out of the box. Bill gambled everything on his guess at the reason why the Devil had to wait to take Standing-in-the-West, on why he didn’t just reach across the table and snatch Bill’s soul from his body. “I’m not cleaned out yet, Devil. And ’til I am the game’s not over.” Bill held the edge of the table to keep himself upright as he felt his knees begin to buckle. “If the game’s not over, you have to stay here.” That had to be it, it had to

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