It was an arm wrestling match.
“Reuben! Reuben! You bastard, Reuben, you son of a bitch!”
The man named Reuben lost. His wrist slammed down with a loud thud.
Some of the crowd who’d bet on him shouted his name like they were coughing up blood.
The match was happening outside. A few tables had been dragged out in front of the tavern, and the owner, red-nosed and drunk, was shouting.
“James wins!”
Someone else shouted in the rising commotion.
