Chapter six
He got in his truck and drove around looking for a used car lot. Before long, he spotted a sign with a cowboy on a bucking bronco. The sign read “Cowboy Bob’s Used Cars. Best deal in Albuquerque!”
Matt drove past to the first corner, turned on the side street and parked by the curb about a halfway down the block. He left the keys in the ignition, took everything out of the glove box that had his name on it, got out removed the license plates and walked back toward Cowboy Bob’s. At the corner, he dropped the papers and plates in a trash can, and continued on to the car lot.
Matt was looking over the cars when a huge man in a ten-gallon hat and a belt buckle the size of a saucer emerged from a trailer. The trailer apparently served as the office since it was the only structure on the lot. The man was also wearing a cowboy shirt and fancy snakeskin cowboy boots.
“What can I do for you young man?” he said in a booming voice with a western drawl.
It took Matt a moment to process that comment. He still hadn’t gotten used to the way people perceived him.
“Come on young feller. The cat got your tongue?”
“Nope. I’m looking for some cheap transportation. Something that’s not too hard on gas and will start when I’m ready to go in the morning.”
“I’ve got a lot full of just that. Anything catch your eye?”
They settled on a ten-year-old Toyota. They went inside and Matt paid in cash. Bob was a little taken aback but allowed as how cash was still good in New Mexico. Bob said “Your registration and plates will be ready in about a week if you want to stop back for them, or I can have them mailed to you.”
Bob allowed as how the title would likely take a month and be mailed to him. Matt said he’d stop back. He thought to himself; I can do without a title. He shook hands with Bob. Matt was surprised how soft a grip he had for a man of his size. He got in his new car and waved out the window as he drove away.
Matt drove to the Social Security office and got a copy of Boyd’s Social Security card. He then drove back to the library and checked out every thing he could find on playing Black Jack. He had heard that you could beat the system by counting cards and figured if that were true, with his memory it should be a snap. On the way back to the motel he stopped at a 7- Eleven. He bought six decks of cards, a six-pack of Coors and drove back to the motel. He went to the office and told the chubby lady behind the counter that he was expecting some mail in the name of James Boyd. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He then went to his room and settled down for a week or two of study.
Within a week, Matt was able to deal out three hands from a six-deck stack, play all three hands and consistently win all three positions. The web site he had gone to said that casinos use two, four, six and eight deck shoes. It also said that some casinos are going to continuous shuffle shoes. Matt figured his best bet might be to stick with the small casinos. He was leery about gambling as a way to make money, but hoped it would at least get him a grubstake. Perhaps get him enough to get by until he could figure how to make a real living.
He now had a cell phone, one of those where you buy the phone in a discount department store and buy your minutes, as you need them without a contract. He bought 200 minutes to start. He allowed as how he had not used up 200 minutes of phone time in the last ten years.
The night he got the phone, he had called Etty. She wanted to know when he was coming back. He said, “It wont be any time real soon Etty. I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Couldn’t you come back and pick us up, or we could come to where you are. I miss you a lot and I’m getting pretty bored just sitting here.”
“Etty it would be even worse if you were here. You and John would be stuck in this dinky motel room for hours on end while I try to work us up a grubstake. Beside that, right now we need to conserve our resources. It would just cost a lot more to have the three of us living on the road. I’ve got a plan to make some money and hopefully in a month or so we will have enough to make a start. I’ve tried every way I can to figure a way to sell the ranch. If I could do that, we wouldn’t have any money worries what so ever. I just can’t see anyway to do it. For that matter I’d be even happier if I could figure out a way to keep it, but that isn’t going to happen either.”
“You still want to ranch Matt?”
“Etty, I’ve never wanted to do another thing in my whole life. Beside there’s not another thing I know how to do. However, it appears that I had better learn.”
Within a week he had used up a third of his allotted minutes talking to Etty. Matt was now a young man with the wants and needs of a young man and he could hardly wait to get back to the ranch. At night when he was waiting for sleep to come, he spent a lot of time thinking about that kiss and about Etty pressed up against him. Those thoughts were not very conducive to dropping off to sleep. He often lay awake for a good portion of the night before finally falling into a fitful sleep.
Two weeks after getting to Albuquerque, Matt awoke at three in the morning with an awful feeling of loneliness that he couldn’t understand. He had spent the majority of his life alone for long stretches and the last ten years completely alone except for his weekly trips to town. He decided that it had to be the city. He was never lonely on the ranch although his life on the ranch was pretty much a textbook example of the word. He now lay on the rumpled bed thinking of his way of life slipping though his fingers and it filled him with a terrible feeling of remorse. He got up and sat in the one chair in the room watching the flickering light on the wall caused by a defective neon sign and wondered about this feeling that was very new to him.
He thought of the ball, reached over to the bed and retrieved his jeans. He reached in the pocket, removed the ball and a feeling of well-being washed over him like a cool evening breeze. His first thought was he needed to keep the ball close by at all times so that he could touch it whenever he felt the need. He sat in the chair pondering this most of the night and came to the decision that what he really needed to do, was to cover the ball so that he wouldn’t touch it by accident. He also decided that he should wear gloves whenever he handled it.
He had concluded that the ball was addictive like a drug. He had not ever before in his life felt as morose or as euphoric as he had this night. Even though the ball had made him feel good when he first handled it, the feeling was nowhere near as intense as this experience had been. It also occurred to him that if he continued to touch the ball he would never age. If he were to establish any sort of life for himself he would to continue to age. He fleetingly wondered if he would indeed age once he stopped touching the ball. He also wondered how long his fantastic memory would last without contact with the ball. He decided, however, to avoid contact with the ball unless absolutely necessary. He wrapped the ball in a handkerchief and made a mental note to get some kind of box or pouch to keep it in.
When he got out of bed the next day, he caught a look at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He thought that although the ball may be a problem in some ways, it sure had given him a great body. When he got out of basic, he was in good shape. When he was herding cattle, stringing fence and bulldogging steers he was in good shape, but he thought I’ve never been in this good of shape. He looked like someone that spent all of their time bodybuilding only leaner. He shaved, showered, got dressed and then decided it was time to see if he could play blackjack. Both the sadness and euphoria had left him for now.
He went next door to Denny’s and had breakfast. The waitresses were getting to know him pretty well. One of them, Sally (if you could believe her nametag) now called him by name. She actually flirted with him, at least he thought she did. It was so long since that had happened he wasn’t sure he could tell. Some girls have a habit of flirting with old men too, but it’s a different kind of flirting. He decided that he was right. She was flirting with him. That morning it was even more blatant. Before his breakfast was over, he half expected her to come right out and ask him for a date. This was something new to him and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was partly due to the ball.
He walked back to his car got in and headed out of town. He drove west on I-40 about fifty miles to the turn off for Acoma. He drove south on the county road. Just before the blacktop ended, he turned into the parking lot of the Sky City Casino. He ignored the valet parking and picked a spot in the massive parking lot. On his way to the front entry way he began to wonder if the valet parking might be worth it. The blacktop was so hot that he could feel it burning through the soles of his boots. He was already wet with sweat when he walked into the overly air conditioned casino it was like stepping into a walk in freezer. He had never been in a casino before and the opulence amazed him. The flashing lights, the clatter of coins, the plush carpets all combined to create an atmosphere unlike any he had ever experienced. He walked though the casino in awe of everything he saw. He had seen all this in movies and on television but that was nothing like what he was experiencing now. He decided that although exciting, he didn’t care for it much.
He finally decided on a spot at the bar where he could keep an eye on the blackjack tables. He ordered a Coors and watched the tables. While sipping his beer at the bar it occurred to him that there were no windows or clocks. He was fairly sure that he had never been in a bar without a clock and certain that he had never been in a building of this size without windows. After about a half hour, the table nearest him changed dealers. She brought trays of chips and a new shoe with her. There was an empty seat at the table. He got up from the bar, walked over and sat down. He said to the dealer, “I’m new at this. Do I buy my chips from you?”
She looked him over, and with a skeptical look said, “This is a fifty dollar minimum table. Are you sure this is where you want to learn the game?”
“You have to learn somewhere.”
“Suit yourself cowboy. How many chips do you want?”
He said, “Give me a thousand in fifty’s, a thousand in hundreds and a thousand in twenties” He laid his money on the table and watched it disappear down a slot in the table. Before he had finished counting his chips a girl dressed in the shortest skirt and lowest cut blouse he had ever seen asked him what he wanted to drink. He nodded at the Coors and said, “I’m still nursing this one.”
She turned and sashayed away as if she knew he was watching and of course, she was right. In fact, all but the most habitual gamblers at the table watched her walk away, including the dealer.
The dealer asked for bets and it started.
Matt played eight hours. With the fifty-dollar minimum, he was down four hundred before he won his first hand, but by the end of six hours, he was up about twenty thousand. After he got to fifteen thousand the casino began changing dealers on him about every half hour. When he got to twenty five thousand or so, he noticed a mountain of a man in a dark suit standing behind him. After about twenty minutes Matt looked over his shoulder and asked him if would mind moving.
“You’re making me nervous.”
The big guy stepped back about four inches. Matt had been at the table for nine straight hours. He had only got up once to go to the john while the mountain watched his chips for him. Matt decided it was time to cash out. He figured he was up approximately forty two thousand. He had been increasing his bet for the last two hours. He tossed the dealer a hundred dollar chip and started picking up his trays of chips when a little Indian girl materialized out of nowhere and started loading the trays on a cart. This girl was wearing a normal amount of clothing. He thought I have to change my way of thinking. The Indian wasn’t a little girl, she was probably older than he was now. This age thing was going to take a lot of getting used to.
The mountain followed him and the girl to the cashier’s window. When he cashed out, the clerk asked for his I.D., social security number and had him fill out IRS forms. This was a glitch that Matt hadn’t thought of. It wasn’t that he minded paying his taxes, it was just that he was afraid that the IRS might know that he was dead. That being the case they might wonder at a dead man gambling, let alone declaring taxes. However, at this point he didn’t see much choice. The only I.D. he had was Boyd’s.
After he had cashed out the mountain asked him if he would like an escort to his car. Matt allowed as how he would. When they got to the car, the mountain looked over the Toyota and said, “If you’re a scam artist you’re the best I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot. If you feel like coming back you’ll be welcome.”
Matt thanked him and took the proffered hand, and almost had his own crushed in the bargain. Matt got in his car thinking I don’t think I’ll be back here very soon. From what he had read, casinos tended to share information. If one banned you, you would be banned from all of them. He didn’t know if that was true outside of Vegas but figured why take a chance. Thanks to the proliferation of Indian casinos over the last several years, there was no shortage of places to gamble. He was thinking he may have to change his ID again before tax time. By the end of the month, Matt was up almost $200,000 and his paper work had all arrived. He figured it was time to go home. The next day Matt went back to Cowboy Bob’s. When he pulled on to the lot, Bob walked out of his office and when Matt stepped out of his car, Bob lost his smile.
“I hope there’s no problem with the car.”
“Nope. I just wondered if you knew someone that could do some custom bodywork for me on a rush basis.”
“I might. What do you need?”
“I need a small lock box installed where it’s not likely to be found.”
“I see. Come on inside.”
They went inside; Bob picked up the phone, dialed, talked for a minute and hung up. He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Matt.
“Here you go James. Go to this address and tell them I sent you. They’ll have it done today.”
He dropped five twenties on Bob’s desk, asked for directions, said thanks and walked out. There was no name on the garage, just an address. The service door was locked. He knocked and explained who he was. The guy let him in, got his keys, opened the overhead door and drove the Toyota into the garage. There were three other guys in the garage busily dismantling a BMW. The one that let him in had to have been six-foot-six. He wore black jeans with a leather vest and every inch of exposed skin was covered with tattoos. He had a heavy black beard and exuded aura that would have caused most people to cross the street to avoid him.
Four hours later he had what he wanted. The big guy that did the work had not offered a name and Matt didn’t ask. However, he did turn out to be friendlier than his appearance would have led him to believe. About a half hour into the job, he had gone to a cooler and returned with two Budweiser’s. He handed one to Jim saying, “It’s God awful hot in here. All during the job he chatted away in a friendly manner albeit one that offered no personal information nor asked any. When he was done, he showed Jim how it worked and said, “It won’t hold up to a full-blown border crossing inspection. Anything short of that she ought to be okay. Of course, if you get stopped with drugs and they got a dog you’re up shit creek. Other than that, it’s not likely to be detected.”
He handed Matt a key and added, “Even if someone finds it, it won’t be easy to get into. That’ll be a thousand.”
Mat paid cash and went back to the motel. As soon as he got there, he opened the box, put all but eight hundred dollars in it plus the ball, locked the box and put the key on his key ring. The key looked like a safety deposit box key.
The next morning he left his room, put his suitcase in the trunk of the Toyota, walked over to the office and helped himself to a cup of coffee. Hearing a television playing somewhere behind the office, he walked to the desk and rang the bell on the counter. The chubby lady came from the back and said, “What can I do for you Mister Macklin?”
“I’ll be checking out now ma’am, but I may be back.”
“It would be nice to have you back any time. Do you want to put it on the card?”
“No ma’am, I think I’ll pay cash.”
He walked out of the office, got in his car and headed for the ranch. He was anxious to get back for more than one reason. This was one of only a half dozen times in his life that he had been away from the ranch this long and then there was Etty.