High Hunt Read Online Free PDF

I’ll win that back in just a few hours, the way the pots have been running.”
    â€œYou broke your string, son,” Riker said softly, looking out over the water. “You been losin’ ’cause you was ashamed of yourself for what you done to that heavyset boy.”
    â€œI still think he had it coming to him,” I insisted.
    â€œI ain’t arguin’ that,” Riker said. “Like as not he did. What I’m sayin’, son, is that you’re ashamed of yourself for bein’ the one that come down on him like you done. I been watchin’ you, and you ain’t set easy since that hand. Funny thing about luck—it won’t never come to a man who don’t think he’s got it comin’. Do yourself a favor and stay out of the game. You’re only gonna lose from here on out.”
    I was going to argue with him, but I had the sudden cold certainty that he was right. I looked out at the dark ocean. “I guess maybe the bit about the pants was going a little too far,” I admitted.
    â€œYeah,” he said, “your buddy’s watch woulda been plenty.”
    â€œMaybe I will stay out of the game,” I said. “I’m about all pokered out anyway.”
    â€œYeah,” he said, “we’ll be gettin’ home pretty quick anyway.”
    â€œCouple, three days, I guess.”
    â€œWell,” he said, “I’m gonna turn in. Been nice talkin’ to you, son.” He turned and walked off down the deck.
    â€œGood night, Sergeant Riker,” I called after him.
    He waved his hand without looking back.
    So I quit playing poker. I guess I’ve always been a sucker for fatherly advice. Somehow I knew that Riker was right though. Whatever the reason, I’d lost the feeling I’d had that the cards were going to fall my way no matter what anybody tried to do to stop them. If I’d have gone back the next day, they’d have cleaned me out. So the next day I watched the ocean, or read, and I didn’t think about poker.
    Two days later we slid into New York Harbor. It was early morning and foggy. We passed the Statue and then stacked up out in the bay, waiting for a tug to drag us the rest of the way in. We all stood out on deck watching the sun stumble up outof the thick banks of smoke to blearily light up the buildings on Manhattan Island.
    It’s a funny feeling, coming home when you don’t really have anything to come home to. I leaned back against a bulkhead, watching all the other guys leaning over the rail. I think I hated every last one of them right then.
    Two grubby tugboats finally came and nudged us across the bay to a pier over in Brooklyn. Early as it was, there must have been a thousand people waiting. There was a lot of waving and shouting back and forth, and then they all settled down to wait. The Army’s good at that kind of thing.
    Benson dragged his duffle bag up to where I was and plunked it down on the deck. I still hadn’t told him I had his watch. I didn’t want him selling it again so he could get back in the game.
    â€œHey, Alders,” he puffed, “I been lookin’ for you all over this fuckin’ tub.”
    â€œI’ve been right here, kid.”
    â€œFeels good, gettin’ home, huh?” he said.
    â€œIt’s still a long way to Seattle,” I told him. His enthusiasm irritated hell out of me.
    â€œYou know what I mean.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œYou think maybe they might fly us out to the West Coast?”
    â€œI doubt it,” I said. “I expect a nice long train ride.”
    â€œShit!” He sounded disgusted. “You’re probably right though. The way my luck’s been goin’ lately, they’ll probably make me walk.”
    â€œYou’re just feeling picked on.”
    Eventually, they started unloading us. Those of us bound for West-Coast and Midwest separation centers were loaded on buses and then we