A Full Deck

Arlow froze in front of the stagecoach with a pile of books in arms, the door open. Five sets of eyes gazed out from the coach. He felt each set accusing him. Of what, he didn't know. The binding of that stack of books dug into his arms as he clenched them tighter. He urged his legs to move but they wouldn't budge, as if they were in quicksand.

A scratchy voice barked from atop the coach, "Well, ya gettin' in or not Arlow." Arlow jumped as he stared at the driver. "These people have places to go and I'm not about to let you hold them up."

After a deep breath, Arlow lessened his grip on his books and took a step forward.
"Come on now son. You know the deal. You gotta pay just like everyone else." An old hand covered in hair, palm up, extended towards him.

He shifted the books to his left arm then dug into his right pants pockets. Like a slow-moving rockslide, the books began to glide off to the left. With a sweaty palm full of coins, he whipped his right arm across in attempt to catch the books. He only managed to knock the rest out of his arms along with all the coins from his hand. A myriad of groans and complaints echoed from the coach.
Arlow scooped up the coins and placed one in the driver's hand who stuffed it into his overalls pocket. He collected his books, dusted them off, and sheepishly entered the coach with his head down. Only one seat remaining of the six. He placed the books beside him still leaving enough room for his thin frame. It's a good thing there were no windows on this coach because he couldn't tell which smell was stronger. Perfume or sweat.

He could feel his leg start to bounce up and down. Arlow looked over each of the people on the coach, as he started to figure them out. The man across from him wore a clean white and black suit and Arlow could see a gold chain beneath his coat which he assumed lead to a gold watch. A bowler lay atop the man's short black hair that stopped above the man's dark brown eyes. A trimmed and cleaned hand held onto a briefcase on his lap. The other hand held the woman's next to him. This man had money and probably never done any real hard labor. Then again, neither had Arlow.

Following the woman's arm up her frilly red and white dress that took up all of the space between the seats, Arlow felt himself linger on her green eyes. His heart started to beat faster as his palms got damp. The lady widened her eyes and thrust her head forward in a "can I help you" gesture.
"Son, if don't stop staring at my companion here..." The wealthy man leaned forward at Arlow making him push himself further into the padded seat of the coach. Arlow dropped his head and stared at the ground. The man resumed his originally seated position as the coach started to lurch forward.

Arlow tensed as something touched his bare left arm. He inched away from the man's pistol. It still had the leather strap holding it in but Arlow had never used a gun. He'd heard them used and seen what they were capable of but had never even touched one.
Wide shoulders held up a well-worn brown duster pulled back behind his holster. Everything this man wore was brown, from his boots to his Stetson resting atop his shoulder length light brown hair. A red cloth peaked out from under the man's shirt was the exception. Sandpaper skin, cracked lips and dulled eyes showed this man lived in the sun. His two meaty hands rested on his lap and one finger tapped away a beat. It was unrecognizable. Arlow tried to peer around this mountain of a man until his eyes caught those of the wealthy man again. He leaned back into his seat again without being able to see the other two passengers.

With a long ride ahead of him, especially with a full coach, Arlow pulled out his deck of cards from his left pants pocket. After he removed a joker from the deck, he returned the cards. He picked one of his books of card games with his right hand and started to read. His left hand continued to flip the joker between his thumb, index and middle finger. He didn't even notice the other passengers stared at his hand in amazement. Whenever he threw himself into his reading, everything else didn't matter. As sure as there were 52 cards in a deck, he wanted knowledge.

After several minutes passed, something started to happen to the joker. Nobody could see it happen, not even Arlow. The passengers were either busy with themselves or Arlow's hand was too fast. Each time the face of the card was aimed towards him, it glowed slightly and began to warm. Arlow just continued to flip and read.

The coach hit a hard bump and jostled everyone. The lady yelped as her head hit the roof. Arlow's books avalanched to the floor, knocked into the wealthy man's knee. He cursed under his breath as he glared at Arlow. However, Arlow, as he was slight of frame, flew into the air and managed to land into the man's lap next to him. A lump formed in his throat. As he clutched the joker and the book, he slowly turned his head towards the man. His eyes met a stone face. Without expression, "Get off."
Arlow flung himself backwards, knocking the door open. He reached out, slammed it shut and sat still, only his eyes searching for his next folly.

He sank farther into his seat with the card still firmly gripped between his fingers. His hand shook as he raised the book to his face, still scanning the others.The wealthy man sat back without looking at his companion. She was bent over, both hands on the top of her head and a light sob squeaked out.

The sun traveled man sat like a stone statue except for tapping a beat with his index finger. Did he feel the bump? Perhaps he's ridden a horse for so long, he was used to it? Maybe he really was a stone statue.

Arlow could finally see the other passenger to the lady's right. In a priest's outfit, the man leaned over to the lady and put a gentle hand on her head. After speaking a few unintelligible words, a dim glow emanated from his hand. Arlow glanced around at the others again. None of them seemed to notice this spectacle. The lady's sob subsided and she righted herself, a bewildered look on her face.