“Too Bad ole Diamond Jack didn’t take the name of the River into account when he set up camp.”
“What do you mean grampa?” I ask reaching for another marshmallow and squish it onto the stick.
“Ever hear the legend of Diamond Jack?”
“I shake my head.”
“They say, Diamond Jack was a cheat. Had been playing poker one night at Maisey’s Saloon. Took the local boys for all their gin money. When he refused to give it back, they threatened revenge.”
“Jack laid a trap for them. But when the men came around they found Jack’s body. Dead. Rattle snake bites a nasty way to go.”
“Coincidence? Karma?” I say with a shiver.
“Maybe,” Grampa says taking a pull on his pipe. “But how do you explain the Jack of Diamonds stuck to his forehead?”