Intro story for an older Diamond Jack

This story imagines Jack as an aging gambler, who, after many adventures throughout the Weird West, has decided it's time to settle down. This is the point in his life that corresponds to the photoshopped Robert Conrad below.

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It’s time to settle down.

John Wesley Parker considered the idea as he attached the leader from the wagon to Deuce’s bridle. The brown horse whickered and nodded his head up and down as if he had read his master’s mind and agreed whole-heartedly.

When the aging gambler first heard of Diego’s venture, he was non-plussed. Montana! Visions of rough terrain and cold winters soured his opinion of the northern territory.

Still, Diego had asked him personally to come along, settle down, open a saloon.

“It’s the opportunity you’ve been looking for, Jack,” the mayor had said, a hint of his Mexican heritage tinting his words. “A little place to settle down. You’ll make dinero by the barrelfuls – this is a ghost rock town, after all. And we need you, old timer. Someone who’s seen as much as you have will bring experience and stability to a wild place. And your…abilities… will certainly come in handy.”

Parker stared absently at Diego, his mind lost in thought. Abilities – Deigo referred to Jack’s secret devotion to Hoyle’s rules, the Big Game – his ability to outfox the big mojo spirits like they were New England greenhorns, and walk away with all the cash and prizes. The mayor was one of the handful of people who knew that the legendary Diamond Jack Parker, gambler and world traveler, could make magic as easily as he could flip a coin.

“Yeah, Diego, I know I’ve been talkin’ about a saloon, a friendly little bar and casino to give me something to do when I do settle.” Jack looked at his friend incredulously. “But Montana? We’ll freeze our cojones off when the first norther hits, long about September.”

“That is the beauty of the plan, my friend!” The mayor grinned broadly. “When the cold hits, where will all the men want to spend their money, eh? Nowhere but ‘Diamond Jack’s. Nothing like a shot of whiskey – or tequila – to chase away winter from a man’s belly.”

Jack had chuckled at his friend’s observation, but it had only taken a couple of months for Diego to wear down his resistance to the idea. After all, a saloon was the plan, right? And he did have to keep an eye on his friend, make sure he didn’t get eaten by wolves or whatnot.

And now, four months later, here he was, climbing aboard a Conestoga filled with his worldly possessions – some saloon supplies and a few bottles of the “good stuff” to augment beer and whiskey purchased from Butte – and clothes were about all he had to brag about. Of course the important stuff was close at hand. His journal and his copy of Hoyle in a saddlebag at his feet, his cards in his jacket pocket, and Emily’s locket, safe in the pocket of his trousers. Emily… Jack cracked the reins over the team’s backs, and headed the wagon out of town to the meet-up spot.

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Next post - Diamond Jack's character sheet in Savage World terms.