The Man Game by Lee W. Henderson Page A

somebody, then you know what it takes to do it again. It’s high on his mind.
    Daggett?
    Shhh.
    That’s the truth?
    Alls I’m saying is I lay my fucking chickamin on the murderer.
    Clough, said the cowboy RD Pitt. You always got them strays following you ever-where … that one nearly bit my—.
    My fucking god, said Moe Dee, but isn’t Daggett one big slab a meat on a bone.
    He’s a fatty, for sure, said Bud Hoss.
    Who’s the one talking, you fat fuck, said Campbell, another man working alongside Hoss on Furry & Daggett’s logging crew.
    I don’t think they’re gonna fight at all, said Hoss, ignoring his bunkmate. Look at them, not even angry no more by the looks on their faces.
    Get rid a the canine before I kills it, said RD Pitt.
    He’s under my jurisdiction, cowboy Pitt, Clough said, and grabbed the spotted dog by the ears and made him sit by his feet. Get yourself back, dog, this is no time for grandstanding. Why, I’d just as soon put you back in the pound with the rest a the strays, my friend. You won’t get your ovation here.
    I can see the fleas popping off him, drawled cowboy Pitt, swatting his hands around him.
    With all your complaining, cowboy, I’d just as likely bet you’re from Montreal, eh. Ha ha. Now never mind the dog, Pitt. Daggett’s had more than a skinful, by the looks. And sure as hellfire I know that look in his eyes. Daggett’s my man, but he’s pickled to the bone. He’s wobbling like he drank the whole bar.
    He can hollow a bottle and we all know it, said Campbell.
    Ah, but he fights dirty, said Hoss.
    Campbell said: You got another way to fight? Now listen here, Hoss. This is
our boss
you’re talking aboot, eh. If you’re speaking against Daggett, then—.
    Alls I know is truth.
    Pinching his knees together, Clough said: Man, I
got
to leak …
    Despite forecasts it was a bright September day, translucent yellow leaves turning to red near the treetops, surrounded by purple berries. The faces of the men were camouflaged by the leafy shadows of autumn trees hanging over the assembly.
    Pisk was so used to the outdoors that his skin didn’t even tingle to the breeze. He threw his clothes to Litz one dusty item at a time, monkeyjacket and shirt and denims and then his patterned calico drawers, until all that remained was hisbowler, which he tipped off his head and let roll down his leg to hook on his big toe, a perfect vaudeville trick, naked. He genuflected theatrically to the hollering audience, then cupped his nutsack in his hand.
    What in the hell are you up to? said Daggett.
    You want a fight? said Pisk. Come on then. Strip down and fight me.
    I don’t want to come
near
you, said Daggett, I just want to beat the living shit out a you.
    You afraid to fight?
    Bare knuckle is one thing. Come on.
    You coward, you poltroon. Let’s see who can
rea
lly fight. I know you, Daggett. I know you, guttersnipe. I seen how you scrap. I saw you used a knuckleduster on an unsuspecting man’s smile. I know you use your belt, you use your fucking
boots
, you use your fucking whatever you have hidden in your pockets. I even seen you use axes, Pisk said, and paused for effect. And I saw you use your tobacco pipe. I bet you’d beat a man with your silver tooth if you had to. I saw you. So strip down and let’s see what you can do without all that currency. Let’s see who you are under all that dirt you got on. I suspect all you are is another fucking whore.
    This is outrageous, said Sammy. These men are absolute barbarians. I’m very sorry you have to hear this, Molly. We shouldn’t—
    It’s true, said Fortes. But they got no one to look up to, you know. These boys got no daddies, they got no mamas. A course they don’t got no children. All they got is working and drinking.
    Her open lips appeared a deeper red, seen against the moonsliver white of her upper teeth. And was it really