Lottie covered her mouth and shook her head when Doc looked her way.
While mulling over his decision, Caleb went through the motions that had become second nature after so many hours of playing in that particular spot. He drummed his fingers, fidgeted with his cards, and worked out the kinks in his muscles, all of which were signals to Doc as to the exact cards he was holding. “Ah, to hell with all of you,” Caleb said as he tossed his cards onto the pile of deadwood near Doc’s left hand. “I’m out.”
“Out of turn, but accepted,” Taylor said as he pushed in enough chips to match Doc’s raise. “What about you, Lottie?”
After taking a moment for consideration, Lottie shook her head and said, “I do have a debilitating sense of optimism, so I’ll stay in to see how my hand can improve.”
Once the money was in the middle of the table, Taylor took the deck and looked at Lottie.
As she pondered her decision, she ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. She could feel eyes being drawn to her from every section of the room. Taylor wasn’t as lecherous as some of the drunks scattered nearby, but he found it just as difficult to look away from her.
“I’ll take three,” she said softly.
“Two for me,” Doc added. When he didn’t get his cards right away, Doc tapped the table with his discards. “Excuse me. If you’d prefer to be alone with the lady, by all means fold and do your business.”
Taylor shook his head as if to snap himself from a dream and flipped two cards at Doc. Once Lottie had looked away from him, Taylor said, “Dealer takes one.” After filling in his own hand, Taylor reached out and gathered up the deadwood.
“I’ll bet fifty,” Lottie said.
Clearing his throat, Doc asked, “You make that pair, Miss Deno?”
“You’ll have to pay to see them, just like everyone else, Dr. Holliday. Well,” she added while winking at Taylor, “maybe not quite everyone.”
“For your sake, I hope it’s one hell of a pair,” Doc said. “I’ll raise it to five thousand.”
Although it was already quiet in the place, those words somehow made it get quieter. The only sound that could be heard was a subtle wheeze in the back of Doc’s throat. As he sipped his whiskey, the wheeze dwindled away.
“Did you say five thousand?” Taylor asked.
“Yes,” Doc replied while shoving in several stacks of chips. “Is that a problem?”
“Why settle for that, Doc?” Taylor asked with a nervous chuckle. “Why not just push it all in?”
“Table etiquette denies me that honor since I’ve already made my bet,” Doc said in a whiskey-soaked Southern accent that was thick as peach cobbler.
“Then let me do the honors.” As he pushed in his own chips, Taylor lost every bit of discomfort or even friendliness in his voice. “Ten thousand more…Actually…make it ten thousand fifty-five. I believe that would put you all in.”
Letting out a slow whistle, Lottie set her cards down and slid them away from her as if they were rigged to explode. “You boys can fight this out among yourselves. Count me out.”
Taylor acknowledged her fold with a nod. He leaned forward a bit with both arms on the table as if to physically guard what little of his chips remained. “What about it, Doc?”
Despite all the money in the middle of the table, all the time that had been devoted to the game, and all the tension that was in the air, Doc sat in his seat as if he were watching a dog cross the street. Refilling his glass from his own flask, he seemed to be more interested in the way the whiskey swirled at the bottom than whatever else was going on.
Taylor may have been showing a bit more anxiousness in his posture and eyes, but he wasn’t chomping at the bit half as much as Caleb.
After a subtle cough, Doc said, “You must either think I don’t have the fortitude to make this call or you’ve got one daisy of a hand.”
“I wouldn’t cast aspersions on your fortitude, Holliday.”
“And there’s always the third option,” Doc continued as if there were nobody else in the room. “You think I’m bluffing.”
“That is something that’s happened from time to time at a poker game.”
“Indeed.”
“You want a lesson in gambling, Caleb?” Doc asked, completely dropping the previous ruse that he could barely tolerate his partner’s company. “This is what you call a strong-arm tactic. Mr. Taylor here wants me to call so badly, he can no longer contain himself. What a pity. He’s been doing such a good job until now.”
Caleb didn’t say anything in response to that. In fact, he was so tired that he had to strain to think back to when he and Doc had agreed to fight and squabble at the table as a way to make the targets think they weren’t running anything. Doc had been the one to suggest running that act during this game as a way to get some practice. They’d pretty much dropped it once Anders was gone, but Caleb didn’t like having Doc speak so frankly while there was still work to be done.
“Sure, Doc,” Caleb said. “Thanks for the pointer.”
“We can pick this up some other time,” Mike offered. “We could all use some sleep.”
“Nonsense!” Doc said a little too loudly. “It’s just getting good. I’ve had to wait for hours and hours and…” Wobbling in his seat, Doc removed the watch from his vest pocket, flipped it open, looked at it, snapped it shut, slipped it back into his pocket, and said, “…and hours just for this moment.”
Without saying a word, Caleb craned his neck so he could look straight into Doc’s eyes. Once he saw what he needed to see, he said, “You’re drunk, Doc. That’s no way to piss away this much—”
“I don’t need a wet nurse!” Doc snarled as he viciously swatted at Caleb, while almost hitting Lottie in the process.
Rolling his eyes, Caleb leaned back in his chair so he could watch from a safe distance.
“Are you going to move your chips in, Doc?” Taylor asked.
“Yes,” Doc replied. “In fact, I believe I’ll raise.”
Taylor eyed him cautiously. “Raise with what? I’d rather not accept a marker.”
“No marker needed. I believe this will be sufficient.” As he said that, Doc removed the gold and diamond stickpin that was with him almost as much as his rasping cough. He took it from his collar reverently and set it against his chips.
Caleb had to keep from wincing when he saw that, knowing well enough that Doc was wagering with something that was much more to him than just a piece of jewelry.
“That was a gift from my father,” Doc explained. “And if you question its value, you’ll need to defend yourself.”
“I’m not questioning anything,” Taylor said as he studied the stickpin. “I can see from here that it’s a fine piece. I must be honest when I tell you I didn’t think this would go this far.”
“It’s poker,” Doc said with a fond smile. “There is no too far in this game. You can either call the bet or fold.”
“Fine, then,” Taylor said as he pushed in the remainder of his chips. “I call.”
“That’s not enough to cover the diamonds alone,” Doc said. “You’ll need to find something else to bet or fold.”
“All I’ve got is out there. Surely we can come to an arrangement if this hand goes your way.”
“Afraid not. I’d rather not accept a marker. I’m sure you understand.”
Although there was a bit of nervous laughter coming from Mike and Caleb, Taylor wasn’t quite so appreciative of the way Doc threw his own words straight back at him.
“You still feel like you can lead me around by the nose, Holliday?”
When Doc sat up straight, he wavered slightly and then held his chin up high. “Whatever are you trying to insinuate, sir?”
“Cut the shit,” Taylor snapped. “You’re a hell of a card handler, I’ll give you that much. But you’re a little too big for your britches. If you wouldn’t have been so full of yourself, I might have been impressed with what I’ve seen so far.”
“And
what have you seen?”
“A couple of wet-behind-the-ear hustlers who bit off more than they could chew.”
Glancing back at Caleb, Doc said, “I prefer to think of us as up-and-comers within these prestigious ranks.”
“You want something more to cover this bet?” Taylor asked. Reaching over his shoulder and behind his neck, he removed a slender blade and slapped it onto the table in a smooth motion that was over in nearly as much time as it took to blink. “That should cover it.”
Doc glanced down at the blade before reaching out to take hold of it by the handle. Since Taylor didn’t make a move to stop him, Doc turned the blade around in his hands so he could examine it from end to end. The handle was smooth wood polished to a black sheen, which closely resembled ebony.
“I’m no judge of knives,” Doc admitted, “but the craftsmanship is impressive. I especially like the blade. Here, Caleb. See what you think.”
Engraved upon the blade, running from handle to tip, was a tiger with its tail stretched out and one forepaw extended. Every claw could be seen within the engraving, along with the feral look in the animal’s eyes.
“Did you think no one would notice when Boyer turned up dead?” Taylor asked.
Just then, four of the remaining customers scattered throughout the saloon turned to face the card table. Their guns were already drawn.
16
“So, am I to presume you’re this Tiger we’ve all heard about?” Doc asked as if there weren’t currently several gun barrels pointed in his direction.
“I’m a representative,” Taylor replied. “Just like Boyer was before me.”
“Whatever happened to him?” Doc queried.
Taylor shook his head slowly. “Don’t make this into a joke, Holliday. I assure you, none of us think it’s funny.”
“So what’s going on here?” Caleb asked. When he started to scoot back from the table, two of the gunmen shifted their aim toward him and cocked their hammers back as a none-too-subtle warning. Staying where he was and keeping his hands in sight, Caleb said, “I thought all you people wanted was a percentage.”
“We do,” Taylor replied. “And we still haven’t gotten it yet. At least, not from you and Dr. Holliday here.”
“The game’s not over yet” Doc said in a steady voice.
As a few of his men started getting restless around him, Taylor nodded and waved for them to settle back down again. “If you want to pay your tax, betting everything you own on a hand of poker isn’t the smartest way to go about it.”
“Betting is how fortunes are made,” Doc said.
“You want to play through this hand?”
“Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“Yes. It is.” After taking a bit to think it over, Taylor shrugged. “All right, then. But if you lose, I’ll still expect our tax. In fact, I’ll need interest seeing as how it’s late and all.”
“That’s bullshit,” Caleb snarled as he jumped up from his seat. Even the sound of those other two gunmen jumping to their feet and stepping up to surround him wasn’t enough to back Caleb down. “All of this is bullshit. What happens when the law takes a look at you assholes? Will you have enough taxes to pay off every one of them?”
“Give it a try,” Taylor said. “Who do you think is keeping the law from checking on every last one of the decks that are used in these saloons? Or from taking a good, long look at the faro games being run by you people? The law gets a good deal out of this because they don’t want to waste their time policing dregs and vagrants like the lot of you. With the exception of Miss Deno, of course.”
Suddenly, Mike pushed back from his own spot while drawing a pistol that had been tucked under his belt. The moment his gun came into view, a shot from one of Taylor’s gunmen blasted through the saloon and knocked Mike off his feet. He landed with a pained grunt, but still struggled to get up.
The same gunman who’d fired that shot was also the one to come rushing up to snatch the pistol from Mike’s hand. He turned that pistol along with his own weapon back around so both guns were pointed in Mike’s face.
When he tried to prop himself up, Mike winced and flopped down again. He grabbed at the source of pain, which was a fresh, bloody gash in his shoulder. Just one touch was enough for him to feel the gristle of exposed bone beneath the flesh that had been shredded by the passing bullet.
“Jesus,” Mike gasped as he went pale and lay down.
Ignoring the guns being waved around, Lottie got up and rushed over to Mike. “Hold on,” she said. “It looks a lot worse than it is. We’ll fetch a doctor for you.”
“Nobody’s fetching anyone,” Taylor said. With a nod over one shoulder, he motioned for one of his gunmen to stand by the front door and prevent anyone from passing through. There were a few folks trying to get a look inside after the shot had been fired, but their curiosity wasn’t great enough to overcome the murderous intent in the gunman’s eyes.
Doc looked down at Mike and asked, “You feeling all right?”
Mike nodded weakly and pulled in a breath. A bit of the color was returning to his cheeks, but he’d since broken into a sweat.
“Get something to hold against that wound,” Doc said. “Help yourself to some of this, Mike,” he added while handing down his flask. “It’ll hold you over just fine until we can get that looked at.”
“Things will get a whole lot worse if you two keep insisting on going against the grain,” Taylor said.
“If you want to shoot this place up, then we can do that,” Doc said. “But I thought we were going to play through this hand.”
This time, Taylor didn’t even try to keep the smirk from his face. In fact, he even chuckled a bit as he nodded slowly. “You’re a tough man to figure out, Doc. Just when I think you’re acting more drunk than you are, you go and start talking like a damned fool again. You want to see the cards? Fine. Since I’m bound to get all of this anyway, I might as well go through the motions.”
Doc eased his flask into the inner pocket of his jacket.
When Taylor turned over his cards, he revealed a whole lot of red. “Flush,” he declared. “I know there are bigger hands out there, but I also know this one’s bigger than yours.”
Every eye shifted toward Doc. Some of those eyes were narrowed in suspicion and others were tainted by mean-spirited smiles. Others, like the ones belonging to Lottie, Mike, and Caleb, were anxious. None of them were hopeful.
“I wouldn’t speak so quickly,” Doc said as he placed his cards on the table while keeping his hand over them. “But remember that we’re all gentlemen here. Please, no swearing in front of the ladies.”
With that, Doc removed his hand and cleared his throat.
Initially, Taylor hardly even spared a glance toward Doc’s cards. Suddenly, however, the smugness on his face evaporated. “Wait a second,” he said as he jumped to his feet and leaned forward with both hands on the table. Like a vulture gazing down at a stretch of desert floor, Taylor eyed Doc’s cards before reaching out to spread them a bit farther apart.
“This isn’t right,” Taylor muttered. “I know it isn’t.”
Doc’s cards were all clubs. Although they were a bit lower than the ones Taylor had shown, they were in order.
“Straight flush,” Doc said. “This will be of some use to me,” he added while taking hold of the knife by its handle. “There are some letters waiting for me in Denison that need to be opened.”
Caleb couldn’t help but laugh at that. The feeling passed, however, as he saw the gunmen creeping in on them from all sides.
“This can’t be right,” Taylor said. “Those aren’t the cards I dealt to you.”
Putting on a confused and somewhat hurt expression, Doc asked, “Are you saying that you cheated? How deceitful. And to think this was just a friendly—”
Taylor’s hand leapt from the table and drew his pistol in the space of a heartbeat. Before he could take aim, he was staring down the barrel of Doc’s gun. With wide eyes, Tayl
or shouted, “Somebody shoot this skinny son of a bitch!”
Upon hearing that, Caleb grabbed the closest thing he could find, which just so happened to be the glass that he’d been drinking from all night. Some beer sprayed through the air as the glass flew, but that was quickly joined by a bloody mist as the glass slammed into the face of the closest gunman.
As the man that had been standing over Mike turned to fire at Doc, he saw a sudden burst of motion from Lottie. The redhead yelped in surprise as she was pulled down by Mike, who then stuck his hand in her skirt.
“Pardon me, Lottie,” Mike said as he found her derringer, aimed it at the gunman standing over him, and pulled the trigger.
The derringer didn’t let off much more than a pop as it sent a bullet through the gunman’s rib cage. The gunman crumpled over and twisted to bring his pistol to bear on Mike. The derringer popped again. This time, the little gun punched a hole through the gunman’s head and dropped him into a dead heap on the floor.
Lottie was still gasping in surprise when her gun was handed back. The moment she felt the familiar iron in her grasp, she fished in another pocket for two fresh rounds.
Caleb took one step toward the man with the shattered glass on his face, planted his foot, and then brought his other knee up to bury it deep into the gunman’s stomach. That doubled the man over, allowing blood from his nose to drip onto the floor, accompanied by the spatter of glass shards hitting the wooden slats.
One look toward the door allowed Caleb to see the gunman guarding the entrance point his weapon toward the card table. Caleb dropped reflexively as the gun went off. Lead hissed over his head and buried itself loudly into the table behind him.
“Goddamn!” Donnelly shouted as he stomped in from one of the back rooms. “What the hell’s going on here?”
He was answered by random shouting as a few of the real customers tried to get out of there, only to stop short when they noticed the guard at the door. A few of the working girls had been watching the whole thing and went over to report what they’d seen to Donnelly.
Bucking the Tiger Page 11