Free Gambling Man by Clifton Adams Page A

Baxter's raisin' ned, they say. Old Feyor pulled out owin' him thirty-four dollars at the store.”
    Jeff felt himself smiling, felt himself growing big inside. It was a strong, good feeling. Big, tough, hard-drinking Feyor Jorgenson pulling up stakes and leaving town in the middle of the night, just because Jeff's pa warned him he'd better! Jeff had known all along that his pa was a powerful man, but he hadn't been sure that he was this powerful.
    The excitement of the thought made him want to laugh. Think what it meant having a father who could do things like that! No wonder all the other boys in Plainsville were jealous.
    A change came over Bud's face when the two boys turned the corner at the Masonic Temple. “Say, I thought of something,” Bud said. “See you later, maybe.” He wheeled and hurried across the street, hands in pockets, elaborately casual.
    That was a strange thing for him to do, Jeff thought, for Bud was heading for the schoolhouse, the same as Jeff was. But the reason for Bud's abrupt action was soon clear. Forrest Slater, Bud's old man, was coming toward him from the other end of the street.
    It gave Jeff a queer feeling for a minute when he realized that Bud was afraid to be seen with him. But that hard core of bigness kept him from showing it. He looked old man Slater right in the eye as they passed.
    A short way past the temple building Jeff saw Amy Wintworth come out of her house and head toward the academy. He quickened his step along the dirt path, coming up beside her. “Hello,” he said.
    She gave him a cool glance. “Todd's gone on ahead,” she said, her chin in the air.
    “I'm not lookin' for Todd.”
    “Oh,” she said, walking on.
    They walked silently. It grated Jeff's nerves that she wouldn't look at him but stared straight ahead. She didn't even notice the bruises that Jorgenson had put on his face.
    There seemed no graceful way to fall back or hurry on past her, so he walked forward stiffly, throwing her a glance from the corner of his eye. Surely she had heard about his standing up to Alex Jorgenson, something not many boys his age and size would have done.
    At last he felt that the silence had lasted long enough.
    “My pa was busy this morning,” he said. “That's why I'm walking instead of riding the bay.”
    All he got was a sour look.
    “Well, can't you say something?”
    “About what?” she demanded.
    He shrugged uncomfortably and thought that he never should have caught up with her. She was in a mood, all right, but it did not prepare him for what was to come. She turned on him suddenly, and her eyes glistened with indignation.
    “You're right proud of yourself, aren't you?” she snapped. “You think you're something big, don't you, because your father scared a drunken old smithie out of Plainsville?”
    Jeff felt the heat anger in his face. “I didn't say a thing about old man Jorgenson, or Alex either!”
    “But you were thinking it!” she accused unreasonably. “Oh, I can see the smugness on your face, Jefferson Blaine!”
    How could a man defend himself against an assault like that?
    “And another thing,” she said. “I heard my father tell Todd not to have anything to do with you or your pa. So don't go running after him.”
    If she were a boy, Jeff thought angrily.
    But she wasn't. She was a frail girl with pink lips and flashing brown eyes and a yellow ribbon in her hair. Just the same, her words hurt. So Ford Wintworth, her pa, had forbidden Todd to have anything to do with him! And that probably went for Amy too.
    Jeff looked at her, then turned suddenly in anger and started to walk away.
    He had taken fewer than a dozen paces when his feet began to drag. Darn it, he thought, he'd never understand girls if he lived to be a hundred. She had ruined her birthday party only to take his part—now he couldn't even get her to look at him!
    Yet he consciously slowed down until she caught up with him again. “What're you mad about?” he demanded.
    “I