“Sorry for the delay,” Otto said, removing the cooling towel from Doc’s face. “It was just a shave, right?”
“Yes, your best, please. I’m new in town, Otto. Is he really the only doctor?”
“Doctor Whittaker has held the monopoly of healing ever since he came to town,” Otto said tightly. “Old Maid Henrick isn’t a healer as such; she’s an alchemist. Her concoctions have worked in the past, though, to speak truthfully, they’ve killed people, too.”
“Ah, so it’s a flip of the coin which might happen?”
“Not as such,” Otto said, clearly still upset. “Depending on if she’s cured something before and what the problem is can influence things greatly.”
“While Whittaker’s brand of healing always works?”
“Unless it’s a fatal problem, yes. Even with something fatal, he has pulled people through before, but if he goes that far, he ends up sickly for a day or two. Last time I know that he did that was for the mayor’s son.”
“I see,” Doc said.
“Let’s get the lather on,” Otto said, clearly trying to distract himself with work.
Doc’s eyes went to the cup and brush the dwarf held in hand. “Badger?”
“Best kind of brush,” Otto replied. “Hold still for me, please, sir.”
~*~*~
Leaving the barber, Doc felt a little conflicted. I could have offered, but would that have been a good idea? I’m new to town, happened to be in the shop. Trying to sell myself to the angry dwarf… Yeah, that would probably have gone bad. Sounds like something a con artist would try.
He shook his head and went toward the bank. Otto had been kind enough to tell him that the mayor also owned the bank in town. Passing the Lily, he caught sight of a tall, lanky man in black robes dragging Skippy’s body toward the door. Damn, he looks like a grave robber, not an undertaker, Doc snorted as he kept walking.
The bank was brick and one of the few structures in town that wasn’t mostly wood. The front of the building had a large overhang, held aloft by fluted stone columns. The two doors had frosted glass set in them, and the word Bank was printed in bold black letters dead center on the glass.
Stepping inside, Doc took in the interior as he closed the door. Two offices in the front, three tellers on duty. Just to the side of the tellers, a door with a brass plaque declaring it the manager’s office had a huge-chested man beside it. Damn, look at the horns on that guy, Doc thought. Must be a bestial with bull’s blood.
“Is the mayor in?” Doc asked as he got closer.
“He’s busy unless you have an appointment,” the guard snorted. “I doubt you do.”
“How do I make one?” Doc asked.
“You don’t. The mayor sends for those he wants to speak to.”
“I’m trying to open a business in town,” Doc said, trying the business approach. “The mayor needs to approve of it, I’ve been told. I’m sure he’d want to talk about more money coming into the town.”
The guard stared at him for a few seconds. “Maybe. Wait here.”
Doc smiled, “Gladly.”
The bestial came back out of the office after a minute. “No. The mayor isn’t seeing anyone today.”
“He doesn’t want more—?”
“Mayor said ‘no,’” the man snorted and stomped a foot.
Doc held up his hands. “Must just be a bad day. I’ll try again later.”
The guard sneered, “Yeah, try that.”
“Ah, Morton,” a man called out. “Is he in?”
“He is indeed, Doctor Whittaker,” the guard said respectfully. “He’s been waiting to speak with you.”
“Good, good.”
“Doctor,” Doc said politely, “did your appointment go okay?”
Whittaker paused, turning to Doc. “How did you know I had another appointment?”
“I was in Otto’s this morning.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you again for that. I did make my first appointment, and because of that, I’m on time to see the mayor. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Holyday. Doc Holyday.” Doc extended his hand to shake.
Whittaker was reaching for his hand when the name registered. He pulled his hand back, his amiable face going cold. “Doc?”
“Given name.”
The coldness faded and Whittaker laughed as he started to reach out again. “Had me going for a minute.”
“Apologies. I didn’t realize that being a doctor would be a problem.”
“This town is barely big enough for a healer and that quack alchemist,” Whittaker said, shaking hands. “If another comes into town to work, well, things might be difficult. For them, at least.”
“I see.”
“I’d stay and talk, but the mayor is waiting for me.”
“Didn’t mean to delay you,” Doc said. “Have a good day.”
“You, as well.”
As he left the bank, Doc frowned. Now what? Looks like getting a license to heal is going to be out of the question. Hmm. Courthouse is down that way... maybe someone there can tell me what the actual laws say. Might be a loophole I can use before it gets closed off. That won’t win me any friends, but I never had many of them anyway. With his mind made up, Doc started walking.
Chapter Eight
The courthouse had the gallows right next door to it, which was bookended by the undertakers. “The express lane,” Doc murmured.
Approaching the building, he didn’t see the usual symbol of justice. Instead of balanced scales, there was an owl holding a quill in one claw and a book in the other. ‘Justice Comes From Wisdom’? Interesting motto, Doc thought.
The hall inside the front door stretched half the building. There was a set of double doors at the far end of the hall that he thought was probably the courtroom, and there was a door on each side of the hall. The door on the left had a sign saying it was the clerk’s office, and the one on the right was records.
Doc entered the clerk’s office and saw an older woman sitting behind a desk. His greeting faltered on his lips, because while he was removing his hat, the woman looked up to stare at him. Her large, perfectly round, slow-blinking eyes were disconcerting, as were the feathers where her hair should have been.
“Morning. What can I help you with?” the clerk asked.
“Umm, morning. I was hoping to see the laws on establishing a business in town.”
“This is not a library, young man.”
“True, ma’am, but this town doesn’t have a library and I want to make sure I’m in compliance with the law.”
Sniffing, the woman eyed him up and down. “Why didn’t you speak with Lawyer Karmin?”
“Just got to town, and I don’t know who practices law here.”
“Fine. Viewing the legal books is a dollar. Did you still wish to do so?”
He pulled a silver dollar out and placed it on the desk. “Please.”
“One moment,” the old woman took the coin and walked across the room.
Doc frowned at the odd sound of her footsteps. When she went to the bookshelf at the back of the room, he understood. She wasn’t wearing shoes— shoes would have been a problem with her bird-like feet. Four sharp talons were lightly scoring the floor as she walked. Doc looked away before she turned to come back, not wanting to cause an issue.
“The laws on businesses inside the town limits,” the clerk said, placing a thick book in front of him. “You may use the chairs over there. The book is not to leave the office.”
Doc glanced behind him to where a pair of wooden chairs sat up against the wall. “Thank you.”
Taking a seat with his hat resting on the chair next to him, Doc opened the book. There was nothing inside that he had expected; there was no table of contents, and the front page declared the land to be part of the “United States of Emerita.” Close to Earth, but obviously different. Clearing his throat gently, Doc looked to the clerk. “What pages do the laws about doctors and other healers begin on?”
“Page
two hundred and eighty-three. You’ll also need to see the third page of additions in the back.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Doc turned to the right page and began to read. Some of the terminology went right over Doc’s head, but he understood the gist of what he was reading. The first few pages listed the federal laws that had to be adhered to, out of which Doc did not qualify as a doctor because he had no formal training. He could possibly qualify as a shaman or spirit healer, but either of those would also pose a few problems. Shamans had to be part of a legally recognized tribe of elves or other native peoples, and spirit healers had to establish a place of worship or join one.
Well, this puts a wrinkle in my plans, Doc thought. I’m supposed to be the Voice of Luck, though... Maybe a place of worship is a good idea. Would that make Luck’s a gambling house? He thought about it and finally looked up to find the clerk staring at him. “Ma’am, what page for the laws on houses of worship?”
The clerk sighed and retrieved another book. “That’s in this book, on page one hundred and thirty-one,” the clerk replied.
“Thank you,” Doc said, exchanging books before returning to his seat.
It took him longer to parse through the new book. There were long sections that stated what each deity needed for a building to qualify as a place of worship. Damn, this world has over a dozen gods, but Luck isn’t mentioned at all. Continuing to read, he found the section he needed: “Establishing a place of worship for a deity not listed in the previous section.” Okay... I need a building to dedicate to Luck. I think that’s enough for today. I’m going to need to see about properties for sale and get the funds together.
“Sir, we’re closing for today,” the clerk said.
“Well, I’m glad I finished,” Doc said as he stood up. “Thank you for your help.”
“It is my job.”
“Does the records office know who owns what property in town?”
“Of course it does.”
“They close when you do?”
“It is the end of the business day, sir,” the clerk said pointedly. “This building will be closed shortly.”
Placing the book on the counter, Doc gave her a smile. “Thank you for humoring me. I hope you have a good night.”
“Thank you.”
He picked up his hat on the way out and, when he stepped outside, Doc found that the town was dark. The clouds overhead, combined with the time of day, stopped much of the fading light from reaching the streets of the town. Businesses already had their lamps lit and the streets were busier than Doc had seen them.
“Let’s go win some more money,” Doc mumbled as he made his way to the Lily. “I’m going to need it if I want to take this path.”
~*~*~
Rain had started to fall when he arrived at the Lily. Stepping inside, it was as lively as it had been last night. He went upstairs, dropped off his hat, and picked up most of his small change.
As he was making his way back to the saloon, he caught Fiala on the stairs. “Evening, Fiala.”
“Doc,” she said evenly. “I heard you had a run of luck last night.”
“It was a good night,” Doc replied. “Hopefully, it will be again.”
“Did you wish a companion at the table?” Fiala asked, shifting a little closer.
Doc was going to decline, but her hopeful smile made him change his mind. “I believe I would, Fiala. Would you be willing to be my companion for the evening?”
Her smile widened and her long tooth appeared. “I would be glad to, Doc.”
“I don’t wish to get you in trouble with the Madam,” Doc said softly.
“Ah. It would normally cost you ten for the entire night,” Fiala said, looking away.
“A bargain if I’ve heard one,” Doc said softly. Pulling the gold piece from his pocket, he held it out to her.
Fiala took the coin slowly, her eyes on his face as she did. “You believe that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
Fiala’s cheeks went red and she looked away hurriedly. “I need to let Westin know. I’ll bring a drink to the table you choose, sir.”
“Call me Doc, please.”
“Okay, Doc.”
“I’ll see you downstairs.” Doc left her on the stairs, giving her a moment to gather herself.
The only seat available for gambling was at the nickel table. Doc moved over to the open spot and asked, “Is this seat taken?”
Raymond chuckled, “No. How did your meeting with the mayor go?”
“About as well as you think it did,” Doc said, pulling out the coin purse he had with him. Taking the seat, he began to stack up the cash he intended to play with.
“I thought about warning you, but it’s easier to learn firsthand,” Raymond snickered.
“Thanks. I’ll try to return the favor at some point.”
“At least you came with a decent starting pool tonight,” Raymond said.
“I have that beer for you, Doc,” Fiala said, coming over to the table.
“Thank you, Fiala.”
“I’ll bring a chair over,” Fiala said and went to claim a chair from another table.
The other five men at the table watched her go. Joey coughed lightly, “Doc, is she paid for?”
“Does it matter?” Doc asked.
“Yes. If she is trying to get you on, she can’t sit here since the table is busy,” Joey told him as he pushed the pot to the winner of the hand.
“She is,” Doc said.
“Sucker born every minute,” another man at the table snickered. “Ah well, she’ll be out of our hair before too long.”
Doc was about to reply when Joey beat him to it, “Doc, you’re the newcomer. Ante up.”
Tossing Joey the nickel, Doc held his tongue. He slid his chair a little to the left and gave Fiala a smile when she sat on his right.
~*~*~
The hands came and went, but Doc didn’t play many for the first hour. The hands that he did participate in won each time. Fiala would get him new drinks or sit and rub his neck and back while he played, and the others kept glancing at her in annoyance.
“Isn’t it time for you to find another sucker?” one of the men growled.
“No,” Doc said as he looked at his cards. “I find you agreeable enough.”
Silence swallowed the table for a moment before Raymond let out a braying laugh. Everyone other than the one man joined in. Fiala’s eyes were wide as she covered her mouth with her hands, and Joey bit his bottom lip to stop his laughter.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the man snapped.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I misunderstood. It’s just that, after an hour of playing, we’ve all noticed you are the easiest to sucker into losing hands.” Doc smiled as he mucked his cards to Joey, not even bothering to stay in the hand.
“What was that?”
“A question we’ve all asked when you’ve shown your cards,” Doc replied evenly.
The table laughed louder. Several people looked over to see what was prompting the hilarity. The complainer went red in the face, noticing all the people now watching.
“You think you’re so smart—?”
“I know I am, but I’m not sure you think at all,” Doc cut him off. “Most people know when to walk away from a losing hand. Then again, if you knew how to do that, you wouldn’t have just lost the majority of your cash.”
Joey leaned forward, covering his face with his hands as small bursts of laughter escaped him. Fiala had stopped laughing, but she was watching Doc with shining eyes. Everyone else at the table was laughing and staring at the man being verbally roasted. The man snatched his money off the table and stalked away, laughter following him to the door as he went.
“It seems I was wrong,” Doc said evenly. “He can indeed learn, after all.”
With the entertainment gone, the rest of the saloon went back to their own business, and the people at the card table slowly composed themselves. Joey was still snort-laughing into the felt.
“Well, that’s one annoyance down,” Doc chuckled.
“Is this seat open?” Everyone at the table looked at the man asking; dusty from travel, he had a pistol on his right hip, a rifle in his left hand, and saddlebags over his shoulder.
Suited for Luck Page 6