He spotted Clint immediately and came over to the bar.“You’re not playing?” Morgan asked.“After our conversation, these games just didn’t seem to attract my interest.”The banker looked over at the tables, and the people playing at them, and said, “I don’t blame you.”“What’ll ya have, Mr. Morgan?” the bartender asked.“A beer, Travis,” Morgan said.“Comin’ up.”“We could get up a game upstairs,” Morgan said. “There’s a small room and—”“I’d rather talk about your game, Mr. Morgan.”“Arliss, please,” the banker said, accepting his beer from the bartender, “call me Arliss. I have the feeling we’re going to be in business together.”“Only if you can answer a question for me,” Clint said. “And convince me that you’re telling the truth.”“This sounds ominous,” Morgan said. “What do you say we finish these beers and then I’ll take you over to my club. We can talk where it’s quiet.”“Suits me,” Clint said.When they entered the Stockman Hotel, Morgan led Clint down a hall and through a doorway.
