Horace Gooden studied his cards, absently stroking his mustache. Good hand, bad hand, or a winning hand, his face showed nothing.

He considered his options.

Bet too much, he'll either scare them off, or they'll think he's bluffing.

Horace didn't look up at the other faces -- Riley Jones, Samuel Fowler and Jamie Horsch -- most of which were watching him.

The agreement was for no bet to go over ten, with only the last hand having no limit. So, Horace contemplated the possibilities.

Darcy's Pub at this late hour had grown quiet, not due to men leaving, going home to their family and farms, but most of them watching this hand play out, a couple trying to get a peek of Horace's cards over his shoulder.

"I'll raise," he said and pushed another $20 into the pot.

"I'll see that," Riley Jones said, "and raise it another ten."

"I hope that's not the bank's money," Pete Darcy said, and a chorus of snickers broke out.

"Actually, it's your last mortgage payment on this place," the banker said, straight-faced, which brought a round of guffaws while Pete scowled.

The wealthiest man in Atlantic County, New Jersey smirked, then threw his cards on the table. "I'm out," Samuel Fowler said.

All eyes fell on the fourth man, Jamie Horsch, owner of the Feed & Mercantile Store in Cape May.

"Horace, I'm not letting you get away with that bluffing shit with me. I may be younger than you, but this is 1885, the modern times, and I'm not fooled. I'll not only see the bet, but I'll raise you by another fifty!"

This was a first. Even though there was no limit on this hand, they'd never gone above $30 before.

Everyone was watching Horace Gooden's face to see how he would react.

Gooden's expression changed. He smiled. And then everyone in the pub smiled.

Gooden cocked his head, thinking. Jamie wasn't bluffing. At 25, he wasn't savvy enough yet to know how to hold back. It was easy to read him like a book.

"Jamie, isn't that pretty young wife of yours planning to have a baby real soon?" Horace asked. "Are you sure you want to do this? You're gonna need your money. I'll let you think that bet over again."

Everyone in the pub started nodding. But Jamie was too excited, and stubborn.

"I know what you're all thinking, but all his talkin' is part of his game," Jamie said, a little defensively. "He's bluffing. I know him better than he knows himself. I've got him just where I want him. He knows he's cornered and is trying to talk his way out of it. Come on, Horace. Wipe that smile off your face and do something!"

Now all eyes went to Gooden, who continued to smile. "Well, Jamie, I tried reasoning with you. I'll see your fifty and raise it by a gentleman's ten."

"Aha!" said Jamie. "I see a weakness in the old boy. I'll see your ten and go another fifty!"

Riley Jones said, "You went out of turn, Jamie. But I'm out anyway." He tossed in his cards.

"Sorry, Riley. Are you okay with it, Horace?"

"Sure, I'm fine, but I've got to say I would not feel good taking all this money from such a fine young man with a growing family. Why don't we say, since you went out of turn, it caused the game to be cancelled and everyone takes their money back?"

There were murmurs of both agreement and puzzlement -- as if they were asking why Horace was being so generous.

Samuel Fowler shrugged, with a bit of a smirk. Riley Jones nodded.

"Absolutely not!" Jamie said, a little too excitedly. "Week after week I've lost to your bluffs and it's not going to happen this time! I kick myself all week long for not challenging you. Well this time, things will be different."

Horace let the smile drop from his face, and went back to a blank expression. He re-checked his cards, making sure those behind him didn't get a peek. He didn't need to know what he had, or what to do -- it was more for show. Jamie must have one hell of a hand for him to be that confident. At this point, it wasn't Horace deciding whether he should follow-through, but if he could afford this loss. It would sting, and Maggie might frown at him, but he couldn't back down.

"Very well. Here's my fifty," and Horace Gooden pushed the chips to the middle of the table, joining the others. "Let's see what you've got."

Without hesitation, Jamie laid his cards down. There were several "oohs" and "aahs", and someone whistled.

"Three Aces!" said Jamie, proudly. "Whadda ya got?"

Horace stared at the Aces for several moments, and then sighed. "Two Kings," he said as he laid them out slowly.

There were a lot of gasps, followed by head shaking and a couple of open jaws. The consensus was that Gooden had blown it.

Jamie, with a big grin on his face, started pulling in the pot.

"And three Sevens," Gooden added in a slow drawl, laying down the Club, Spade and Diamond.

Another gasp and Jamie stopped dead, arms outstretched around a pile of chips. His face went white, and he swallowed heavily. He pulled back, as if he wanted to be invisible while Horace roped the chips in.

"Drinks for everyone, Pete." Gooden said.

A rousing cheer went up.

Horace stacked his chips. "You know, Jamie, I don't bluff all the time. A couple weeks ago, I cleaned Riley's clock with a good hand. The problem is you never know when it's gonna happen. Tonight it happened. I hate to take all you got, but I gave you a way out. I hope you don't get all mad over a learning experience."

Pete Darby brought drinks to the table, patting Jamie's shoulder as he passed by. "Tell you what, Jamie," Horace said, still stacking his take. "I'll divide this pot in half, which includes my winnings for the whole evening. I'll cut cards for it. High man wins. You don't have to do anything."

"You mean I can't lose?"

"No more than you already have."

"What's the catch?"

"The catch is -- this is my lucky night. I'm gonna win my own money."

Jamie thought about this, looking at a couple of others as if asking what to do. "Oh, what the hell," he said. He reached out and flipped the top card on the deck. "Lucky me Seven of Hearts!"

There were a couple of snickers -- only Jamie would think a Seven in this situation was lucky.

Gooden nodded. "Right down the middle, could go either way." He reached out and plucked the next card off the deck and slid it in front of him face-down before peeking. His smirk fell away.

"Three of Diamonds," he said, leaving the card flat on the table.

There was a reaction of surprise from the gallery and Jamie hooted. "A Three!" But then he paused as the smile drifted away from his face. "Are you sure about this?"

Gooden held up his card to Pete Darby. "What do you see, Pete?"

"A Three. I can't believe a Seven won that pot!"

The expression on Jamie's face exploded into a broad grin as he pulled in his share of the pot.

Sam Fowler collected the cards, pulling in Horace's face-down card last, casually flipping it over, revealing a Queen of Hearts. He calmly placed it on the pile, not commenting.

Jamie didn't notice, too busy counting his money.

Horace Gooden and Sam Fowler left Darby's Pub just after 11, and got into Horace's wagon. The horse eyed them wearily, while Henry -- Horace's mutt -- jumped up and wagged its tail, happy to see someone. With Horace's farm four miles away, a little over an hour away, the dog would be asleep before they got out of town. Fortunately for Sam, he was less than a mile out, making it convenient...