Join the stallions at their game: 7 Votes
Taking a few more gulps from her bottle of whiskey and staggering to her hooves, Kestrel decided to turn her attention to the cards table. A few hooves of cards would do her well, she supposed, and laughing with the stallions would be a good way to keep her mind off of the unfortunate truth Miss Irons had laid out for her. Besides, she always felt like she belonged more with the stallions than with the other mares. She was as tough as any of them, even Roughshod, and shooting the shit with them came more naturally to her than gossiping with the girls.
It took her some effort to cross the campsite without tripping over her hooves, and she held her wings out at her sides for balance, like a tightrope walker balancing with a pole held in their teeth. But when she did, she dragged a stool over to the table, set her bottle down by her side, and slapped her hoof against the wood. “Deal me in.”
“Perfect timin’,” Tumbleweed said, collecting the small pile of bits laid out in front of him while Roughshod cursed under his breath. “The rest of these fools were runnin’ outta pocket change. We needed somepony new to give a boost to the economy.”
“Keep that up, and soon we’re going to mistake you for a stock broker,” Wanderer said, taking the cards from Tumbleweed and dealing out the next hoof. Kestrel dug through her pockets and put out a small stack of bits in front of her, then flipped one in as the small blind. Snapshot put two in as the big blind, and then Wanderer dealt out the next hoof.
Kestrel slid her cards into her feathers and discreetly raised them up off the table, doing her best to keep her expression neutral. That of course was a difficult enough task, considering the sheer amount of whiskey she’d had so far had made her face feel numb. Her cards certainly weren’t much to build a winning hoof on, but she’d already put in a bit as the small blind, so she figured she might as well ride it out and see what the flop gave her.
Tumbleweed threw his two bits in to match Snapshot’s blind, and Roughshod did the same. Wanderer called his two bits as well, and Kestrel finished up with another bit to bring her to Snapshot’s blind. When nopony made any raises, he moved to the flop, flipping over three cards on the table. “So, Kessie,” he said, smirking out of the corner of his mouth at the gunslinger. “What’d you and the ladies talk about?”
“The usual lady things,” Kestrel said, checking the flop against her hand. After a moment to consider her chances, she folded her cards and leaned away from the table, and Snapshot shortly followed suit. “We made Trixie take a drink everytime she said her own name. Mare’s probably drunk as a skunk now that it’s had a chance to hit her.”
“Sure looks like it,” Tumbleweed said with a chuckle, angling his head off to the side. Kestrel followed his eyes just in time to see Trixie bump into the corner of her wagon as she tried to walk around it, lose her balance, and fall flailing to the ground. The stallions at the table couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and Trixie hurriedly scrambled back to her hooves at the laughter, glaring at them all before slipping into her wagon and shutting the door behind her.
Tumbleweed, Roughshod, and Wanderer traded bets for a few minutes as Kestrel dug into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. A match struck off her horseshoe sparked to life, and moments later her lungs tingled with the burn of tobacco smoke. She watched Wanderer claim victory over the other two with a straight flush, easily putting Tumbleweed’s full house and Roughshod’s two pairs to rest, and pull the bits over toward his growing pile. “Keep playing aggressive like that, Rough, and you aren’t going to have anything left in a few more hooves.”
All players roll Luck to compete at cards:
First Hoof:
Kestrel: 8
Tumbleweed: 12
Roughshod: 8
Snapshot: 8
Wanderer: 14
Wanderer wins the first hoof.
“Bah! The cards ain’t bein’ good to me tonight,” he grumbled, crossing his forelegs. “Shit’d work better if I could get a little luck on my side for once.”
“Even if you had luck, you’d waste it,” Snapshot dryly remarked, the slight curve to his lips hidden behind the beer bottle he brought to his mouth. “Never patient.”
“Ah, eat tar, Snapshot.” Roughshod rolled his eyes and glared at the deck of cards as Wanderer shuffled them back together and passed it to Kestrel. “This time I’ll get somethin’ good. I’m feelin’ it.”
“Keep sayin’ it and it’s likely to come true,” Tumbleweed said, patronizing the stallion. “I’m sure it’ll work just like the last ten times.”
“Shut up. You just mark the cards or somethin’. This deck’s so old, all the cards got creases in ‘em.”
“Maybe you can go into town and buy a few new packs,” Kestrel said as she dealt out everypony’s hooves. “That is, if you even have any pocket change left after we’re done tonight.”
“I’m about to win it all back,” Roughshod said. “Just you see.”
“Uh-huh.”
The five outlaws played through their hands, sharing little quips and banter all the while. Kestrel’s own hoof was pretty terrible, truth be told, but she wondered if she’d be able to bluff her way through it. She thought she was on the verge of having a breakthrough when the flop gave her two pair, but the next two cards instead gave Snapshot four of a kind when she flipped over two 7s. After going all in, Roughshod could only watch as his meager remaining reserve of bits went to the stoic stallion, and he slammed down what was left of his beer and stumbled to his hooves. “Screw this,” he grumbled, trying to blink away the exhaustion clawing at his eyes. “I’ve had enough. I’m gonna get some rest.”
All players roll Luck to compete at cards:
Second Hoof:
Kestrel: 7
Tumbleweed: 7
Roughshod: 9
Snapshot: 13
Wanderer: 10
Snapshot wins the second hoof.
“You do that,” Kestrel called out, sending the cards along to Snapshot, who rapidly shuffled them in his magic. When the big stallion was out of earshot, she lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the rest of the stallions still at the table. “Miss Irons said he’s taken a likin’ to Trixie.”
Tumbleweed let out a guffaw and slapped the table. “Truly?”
“If it comes from her mouth, I’d believe it,” Wanderer said, shaking his head from side to side. “That mare’s got a way of uncovering the truth of the matter. Did she tell Trixie?”
“You know she did,” Kestrel said, chuckling. “Oh, these next few days are gonna be fun, I tell you what.”
“Maybe we can arrange something,” Snapshot said. “I think they’re a perfect match for each other.”
Wanderer snickered. “You really think that?”
“Roughshod doesn’t talk like himself when he talks about her,” Snapshot affirmed. “He must be smitten.”
Tumbleweed’s eyebrows raised. “He told you that he liked her?”
“I don’t talk much,” Snapshot simply observed.
“Well, I think we can all agree on that,” Kestrel said, putting her feathers down on the table as Snapshot dealt out the third hoof and snatching her cards away. An ace and a queen greeted her, and she tried not to betray her good hoof as everypony threw in their bets. “You got anything else good that ponies been tellin’ you?”
Snapshot shrugged. “Depends on what you consider good.”
“Like… juicy gossip and the like.”
The stallion didn’t comment on that, instead raising the ante.
“Snapshot’s only gonna talk if somepony else finds out what he knows first,” Tumbleweed observed. “That’s why ponies tell him things.”
“Kestrel doesn’t,” Snapshot stated.
Kestrel felt a little blush forming on her cheeks, and she rubbed the back of her neck with a hoof. “Yeah… I don’t find the time to talk with ya much. Sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” Wanderer asked. “You know Snap’s favorite conversations are the ones he doesn’t have to have.”
From across the table, Snapshot bobbed his head ever so slightly.
As the rest of the players threw in their bets and raised their antes, Kestrel looked up to see Silver Wings stumbling across the campsite, obviously in search of her bed. Only, her mane was plastered to the side of her face with mud, and her tail and wings dripped water as she sought out the warmth of the campfire to dry herself off. Kestrel couldn’t suppress a snort as the bedraggled mare fanned her feathers to dry them out, and she raised her voice as she tossed in more bits. “What’s a matter, Silvie? Go for a late night swim?”
“Shut up,” Silver grumbled, trying to shake the lake water out of her coat. “It’s slippery down there!”
Tumbleweed and Wanderer shared a wheezing laugh, while Snapshot just shook his head. Kestrel was just glad that nothing bad had befallen Silver during her lake exclusion, sudden bath excluded.
And in the end, she was plenty pleased with the outcome from that hoof of poker. The cards lined up in her favor, and after several times of calling Wanderer’s bluff, she eventually outmuscled his three of a kind with a royal flush. At that, the other stallions shook their heads, tossed their cards into the middle, and took a few more drinks before standing up.
All players roll Luck to compete at cards:
Kestrel: 13
Tumbleweed: 7
Snapshot: 7
Wanderer: 10
Kestrel wins the third hoof.
“Done already?” Kestrel asked them as they started to leave. “I just started winnin’!”
“We been at it for a while now,” Wanderer said. “And these old bones need their rest. It must be well after midnight by now.”
Kestrel couldn’t deny that she wasn’t feeling tired as well, so she finished off her bottle of whiskey and tossed her cards into the pile as well. At least she broke even again on that last hoof, maybe even made a few bits. She was too drunk to count them now, though; the world swam around her, and her vision was annoyingly blurry. As everypony said their goodnights, Kestrel too stood up and began to bumble her way over to her lean-to.
She hadn’t even closed her eyes for a second before she passed out, awkwardly sprawled out on her bedroll, her limbs splayed in every which way.
[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]