The Killing Season (2010)
The Killing Season
“El Paso drew men from both sides of the border, most of them of a caliber that suggested they could be hanged on either side of the river. One of these was a Mexican of some status, Manuelito Birdsong. He was armed with a temper of considerable proportions, a Bowie knife, and a .31-caliber Colt pocket pistol. The game, draw poker, had been in progress less than an hour in the Star Saloon, and Nathan watched as the Mexican was again about to deal the cards.
“This time,” Nathan said, “deal all mine off the top.”
Birdsong shifted a cigar to the other side of his mouth and regarded Nathan coldly before he spoke.
“You are implying that I cheat, señor?”
“I’m not implying,” said Nathan. “I’m accusing. You dealt my last card off the bottom of the deck. I allow a man one mistake, and you’ve made yours.”
Men scrambled to get away from the table, but there was no gunplay. Birdsong’s hand froze on the butt of his Colt, for Nathan already had him covered.
“I think,”
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