“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Just then, Butler stomped into the saloon and made his way to the table as if he intended on pounding holes in the floor with every step. He slapped a bundle onto the dirty tablecloth and sat down roughly. “Let’s play some cards,” he grunted.
Doc smirked and headed back to his chair. “My sentiments exactly, Admiral.”
Caleb had to turn his back on the table and leave before he busted out laughing at how easily Doc got under Butler’s skin. As soon as he was outside, he took a look around and pulled in a lungful of Jacksboro atmosphere. The place smelled like a healthy mix of horseflesh and sweaty armpits. Soldiers from the nearby fort walked in small packs up and down the streets, ogling whores who looked as if they were sitting down merely because they’d been worked too hard to stand on their own.
It was a perfect place to lay low and heal up, since there was no reason on earth why anyone would bother trying to cut in on the gambling action there. If anyone claiming to represent the Tiger even knew about Jacksboro, it was as a stopover on the way back onto the gambler’s circuit.
Caleb wasn’t feeling great, but he was feeling a whole lot better. By the time he crossed the street and made his way to a tent that had been pitched on a nearby corner, he barely even felt the stitches in his back.
The tent Caleb approached might have been large enough to fit a few people rather comfortably under its canvas cover. Because it was stretched to more than double its intended height, the tent only had two and a half sides to go along with its tattered top. A sign stuck in the dirt in front of it read: HORSES FOR SALE.
“Are these the only ones you’ve got?” Caleb asked the short man sitting on the ground with a shotgun across his lap.
The man inside the tent had deep pockmarks in his face and teeth that were nearly the same color as the Texas soil. He reflexively tightened his grip on his shotgun as he sized up Caleb with a quick glance. “These are all fine for whatever you need.”
“How about a ride to Denver?”
“Whatever you need.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
The man shrugged and nodded toward the selection, which consisted of two somewhat likely prospects and three more nags that barely looked healthy enough to cross the street without falling over.
Settling on a gray mare, Caleb knew better than to ask if the horse would make it. The man with the pockmarked face didn’t exactly strike him as the sort who would be honest when it came to selling his animals. Fortunately, Caleb had enough experience under his own belt to make a decision.
“I’ll pay fifty for this one,” Caleb said to the seller.
“A hundred and not a dime less.”
“Seventy-five.”
“Ninety-five.”
Glaring down at the seller, Caleb shifted on his feet so his hand just so happened to come to rest on the barrel of his holstered pistol. “Eighty-five and that better include the saddle. If this horse makes it all the way to Denver, I’ll come back and pay you the rest.”
“All right, all right. Hand it over.”
After paying for the horse and buckling a beat-up saddle over its back, Caleb rode out of Jacksboro and headed toward Colorado. He was sick of hiding.
It was time to do some seeking.
24
Compared to all the other camps, dirty towns, and forts that Caleb had gone through on his ride, Denver was more than just a jolt to his senses. The sounds and sights had an even bigger impact on him due to the fact that he’d spent more than a few nights along the way sleeping under the stars in a bedroll he’d won off a miner whose left eye ticked every time he was dealt anything better than two pair.
Caleb wasn’t the only one to benefit from that little stopover. The gray mare he’d bought in Jacksboro now sported a newer saddle as well as a fresh set of shoes. Caleb figured it was more important to keep her in good condition instead of padding his own pockets with the specks of gold dust that the miner had to offer. It had worked out pretty well, since he’d made it in far less time than he’d figured.
Denver sprawled in every direction like the mountains themselves. On his way through town, Caleb passed at least three churches and even found himself traveling down a few streets that were paved by wooden planks. The boardwalks were crowded, but not with the rowdy sort he’d grown accustomed to. These were normal folks, as well as a good supply of families, who looked at Caleb without hiding their discomfort.
After traveling through Indian country, Caleb had become very aware of his own appearance. Thanks to spending more time in the sun than he had in a long time, his normally dark coloring had become even darker, until he looked closer to a full-blooded Indian rather than the mix that his family tree would actually show. His coal-black hair had grown out a bit since the last time he’d cut it in Fort Griffin, adding even more of a savageness to his appearance.
But Caleb soon realized it wasn’t the color of his skin or hair that put the locals on edge. Their eyes drifted more to the guns around his waist and the rifle that was strapped to his horse’s side. The wound in his back still gnawed at him every now and then, reminding him to never again be caught without a weapon at the ready. He’d picked up a few pistols as a result of his growing prowess at cards and a close call with a drunk cavalry scout who didn’t know the difference between bluffing and cheating.
Caleb took to wearing the guns on his person—two bolstered around his waist, one stuck under the back of his belt, and another wedged in his left boot. There were plenty of men who wore more guns or displayed them with more flair, but no men like that were to be seen on the street at the moment. As such, Caleb felt more and more like a wild dog that had wandered into the middle of a flock of sheep.
“Afternoon, sir,” Caleb said to a balding man with a thick gray beard hanging down long enough to completely cover his neck. “Wonder if you could direct me to a clean room and a bath?”
“Try one of the saloons,” the older man replied as if he were wading in the muck to do so. He pointed toward the end of a row of brick buildings, adding, “There’s plenty of them that way.”
“Much obliged, sir.” With that, Caleb pointed his horse’s nose in the direction he’d been shown and flicked the reins.
Soon, he spotted a row of saloons and poker halls, which called to him like a chorus of muses. As he rode down that street, he got fewer suspicious glares thrown his way and saw more sights that were familiar to his weary eyes. Although the places may have been bigger and better maintained, they were still saloons, and even the smell of them made Caleb feel more at home.
He tied his horse in front of a small barbershop and stepped inside.
“Help you?” asked a man in his forties wearing a clean apron while sweeping the floor in front of a shiny barber’s chair.
“How much for a bath and shave?”
“Dollar fifty.” The man looked Caleb up and down as if counting the dirty smudges on his face and clothes. “Make it two dollars.”
Caleb paid the money, cleaned up, and got a recommendation for a place to rent a room, as well as the closest stable for his horse. In under an hour’s time, he was walking the streets of Denver in a fresh set of clothes, with a smile on his face. Never before had he felt so far from where he’d started. The Busted Flush seemed like a distant memory, even though he’d owned the saloon less than a year ago.
Now, as he walked along by the saloons outside the door of his hotel, Caleb pulled in a breath of clean air and let it out slowly. There was no Texas dust catching in his throat and no cowboys screaming in the distance. Denver truly felt like foreign soil, and Caleb was more than happy to do some exploring.
Every time he caught sight of a piece of mountainous scenery, it nearly took Caleb’s breath away. For the rest of that night, he wandered around, until he found himself in the Chinese district and among folks who made him feel even more out of sorts.
Caleb had met plenty of Chinese, but it was on their streets that Ca
leb got a subtle reminder of why he’d come to Denver in the first place. Hanging in one window, there was a white banner with a picture of a red tiger painted upon it. Caleb stepped up to the picture and quickly saw that it wasn’t the same picture that had been carved on Taylor’s blade. Even so, Caleb walked a little more carefully after seeing that painting. He made his way back to the saloon district with his arms hanging at his sides so he could always feel the touch of his guns holstered in his newly acquired double rig.
Despite the darkness that accompanied thoughts of the Tiger, Caleb couldn’t stay under that cloud for long. There was something about Denver that energized him. Until now, he’d always just thought of “a breath of fresh air” as just another phrase. Indeed, he could see why Colorado was recommended for people with health conditions. As he stepped into a saloon called the Mint, Caleb was feeling almost as good as he had before catching lead back in Fort Griffin.
The Mint had a definite Southern air about it. Although the building fit in with the others on its portion of Blake Street, the inside was done up like a plantation he’d visited once as a child. The tables were round and covered with nicer than average cloths. The banisters were polished and not too chipped. Near the door was a man with a banjo playing music that was lazy as a Louisiana summer.
Caleb stepped up to the bar and placed his foot on a polished brass rail. He took quick stock of the liquor supply shelved in front of an expensive mirror behind the bar and nodded his approval.
“Good evening, sir,” said a man in a drawl that reminded Caleb of Doc’s. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here.”
“I just got into Denver.”
“That explains it,” the barkeep said. “The name’s Charley Ward.”
“Caleb Wayfinder.”
“Ah. A savage from the wilds, eh?” The good-natured way in which Charley spoke made it impossible for any of his words to cause offense. The brimming smile on his face took a few more steps in that direction. “Can I interest you in a drink?”
“If you’d offered me a peace pipe,” Caleb said in a manner that was almost as good-natured as Charley’s, “I would’ve had to knock out a few teeth.”
Charley was a burly fellow with a thick beard that made him look like one of the men coming in from the mountains. He had thick, meaty hands covered in calluses and a bit of a belly protruding over the top of his belt.
“I suppose I had that coming,” Charley admitted. “How’s about I buy the first round and we can be square?”
“Sounds good.”
When Charley turned and poured a drink for him, Caleb expected to find either beer or whiskey in the glass. What he saw was neither of those. Staring down at the glass, Caleb asked, “What is that?”
“A mint julep. Don’t tell me you’ve never had one.”
“Not in a place this far north.”
“Aw, just drink it. It’s the specialty of the house.”
“I guess that explains the sign out front.”
“Sure enough.”
Caleb lifted the glass to his lips, shrugged, and took a sip. It trickled down his throat like his first taste of cold water. “Damn! If I could mix a drink like that, I’d name a place after it, too.”
“Glad you like it. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“Actually, I was looking for a game.”
“What’s your flavor?” Charley asked. “We’ve got everything that’s worth playing.”
“I see a few poker games going on,” Caleb said while surveying the main room. “What about faro?”
“Bucking the tiger, eh? There’s a few tables in the next room.”
“Actually, I was thinking about having a word with a man named Morris. Can you help me on that end?”
Charley’s eyes narrowed a bit and his smile lost a bit of its humor. “I see you’re more than just a casual player.”
“You might say that.”
“So you’d be looking to deal faro rather than play?”
Caleb nodded. “I’d be happy to stick to poker for a while if there’s no other openings yet.”
“What’d you say your name was?” This time when he asked, Charley squinted as if he were studying the fine print of a contract.
“Caleb Wayfinder.”
“And where’re you from?”
“Formerly from Dallas. I owned a place there called the Busted Flush, but more recently I’ve been in Fort Griffin.”
Charley’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly. “The Busted Flush? I’ve heard of that place. Survived a bunch of fires a while back didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Caleb answered. “I didn’t know news like that would make it this far.”
Letting out a rumbling belly laugh, Charley said, “A man’s gotta listen to the gamblers to know what’s going on. They’ve been talking about your place since it made it onto the circuit.”
“I handed over controlling interest to my partner. Since then, I’ve been doing some traveling.”
Charley kept nodding. “I guess there were a bunch of fires that put a lot of other saloons around there out of business. Since your place survived, folks started saying it was lucky. That, along with a few big games held there, made plenty of cardsharps mighty anxious to see if some of that luck would rub off on them.”
Thinking back to the Flush made Caleb smile. “I’ll be damned.”
“Will you be around here for long?” Charley asked.
“If I can sit in on a few games.”
“Good. I’ll see about getting a word with the Tiger and point him in your direction.”
“Perfect And one more thing. I’ll need another one of these juleps.”
25
A few hours later, Caleb was still in the Mint and still feeling good about being there. After working a few kinks from his neck, he pulled up the tops of his cards so he could take another quick glance at them. After that, he took his time looking around at the other faces gathered at the table.
He’d picked out one or two that might be professionals, but he was fairly certain they hadn’t picked him out. Either that or they just didn’t consider him any sort of threat.
“Raise…um…three dollars,” Caleb said without much gusto behind it.
“Make it five,” came the immediate response from the man on his left.
The next one in line folded, allowing the one after him to declare, “Raise it to twenty.”
Caleb started to act surprised and then took it back before fully committing to it. That way, anyone who could read a man would see just enough to get the point. “All right, then,” Caleb said. “I’ll call.”
There was a quick glance between the two players who’d raised, which gave Caleb a sliver of hope. Of course, there was only one way for him to be certain he was right.
On the last round of betting, Caleb took a breath and made sure not to look at the others when he pushed in a good portion of his chips. “Fifty,” he said.
After another pause, the next man in line asked, “How many more chips do you have?”
It was all Caleb could do to keep from grinning.
The last show of the evening started at just past midnight. Caleb sat at a small table alongside the narrow stage, where a pretty brunette from San Juan was singing something in her native tongue. Caleb understood bits and pieces of it, but was only listening to the sweet tone of her voice while counting his winnings.
He caught sight of someone approaching his table, and his hand drifted toward the gun on his left hip. Keeping his eyes more or less trained on the stage, he watched the approaching figure from the outer edge of his field of vision. Not until the figure stopped at his table did Caleb turn to look.
“There you are,” the figure said. “It took you long enough to get here.”
Caleb stood up so quickly that he knocked over his chair behind him. “Lottie? Is that really you?”
The redhead was dressed in a simple brown skirt with a blouse that was baggy enough to conceal her impressi
ve figure. She opened her arms and put on a smile that was like the first rays of a sunrise. “Of course it’s me, “she said. “Who else would follow you all the way from Fort Griffin?”
Caleb pulled out a chair for her and then righted his own. “You followed me?”
“Well, not exactly. I did come up here looking for you, though. Where have you been hiding? I hadn’t even heard you were in town until earlier tonight.”
“I just arrived. You’ve got some real good ears if you knew I was here already.”
“Those two men you fleeced a little while ago weren’t just some local players, you know.”
“They also weren’t that great at bluffing me out of my money,” Caleb replied. “Were they friends of yours?”
“More like acquaintances. We’ve run a few games together, but I’m not too surprised that they got cleaned out. They always were suckers for new faces. I am impressed you were able to do it alone, though.”
“Should I be offended by that?”
“Not at all,” Lottie said. “I meant it as a compliment. You and Doc make a hell of a team, but you seem to be doing just fine on your own. Everyone on the circuit will be keeping their eyes on you. Where have you been and where’s Doc?”
“We spent a little time in Jacksboro. Doc found a few soldiers who were overly eager to bet their wages while I was getting stitched up.”
Gritting her teeth and pulling in a breath, Lottie reached out to place a tentative hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “I almost forgot about that. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. The bullet just sort of got stuck in there without doing a whole lot of damage.”
“Thank goodness.”
“What about you?” Caleb asked. “Why did you come all the way to Denver? It must have been important.”
Lottie’s face darkened a bit as she nodded. “It is important, actually. There’s been some talk going around about you and Doc.”
“Seems like there always is.”
“First of all…” Lowering her head, Lottie let out a breath as if she just didn’t have the strength to look Caleb in the eye. “I’ve got to tell you that I wasn’t completely in the dark about who Taylor was.”
Bucking the Tiger Page 16