Cashing In (Luck's Voice Book 2)

by Daniel Schinhofen

  The man laughed and pulled away from him. “Easy now. I just wanted to save you some trouble.”

  Doc snorted. “Funny. You look like you want to cause trouble.”

  The smile on the man’s face dropped. “Look, dwarf lover, just move along.”

  “Or what?” Doc asked as he stepped back and brushed his jacket open.

  The man’s eyes fell to the pistol on Doc’s hip and he held up his hands. “Nothing. Nothing at all. We’re just concerned citizens trying to stop accidents from happening.”

  “No, you’re thugs paid to run people off,” Doc said, his hand still clear of his gun.

  “Look out!”

  Doc heard the yell and, instead of turning, dropped to his knees, yanking the gun out as he went. The first thug swung where Doc’s head had been, but staggered past him when he missed. Both men started backing away, since Doc had a gun out.

  “Stop,” Doc told the thugs. “Thank you,” he called out to the man who’d given him the warning. “Assault, and then attempted assault. You two aren’t bright.” Doc caught sight of one of the deputies moving toward them and smiled. “Deputy, can you take these two in?”

  “I can. I saw them,” Fido said. “Come along peacefully.”

  The two men glared at Doc, then Fido, spitting at the deputy’s feet. “Damned beasts. They never should’ve given you a badge.”

  Fido snarled darkly. “Move.”

  Both men started to walk away with Fido following them, his gun drawn. Doc got to his feet and holstered his pistol. Dusting off his pants, Doc looked behind him to see the other bystander was gone.

  Shrugging, he stepped up onto the porch of the barbershop, ready for a shave. He frowned, because the door was locked, and he knocked. “Otto, you in?”

  Hearing movement inside, Doc waited. A moment later, he saw an eye emerge around the edge of the curtain, then the sound of a lock clicking open.

  “Doc,” Otto said, peeking outside. “They left?”

  “Arrested,” Doc said. “That’ll give you a little time, at least.”

  “Damned Whittaker,” Otto growled. “Those two have been causing trouble all day. Been driving everyone off.”

  “Didn’t come out and deal with them yourself?”

  “No. They would’ve outnumbered me, and I’m sure they would’ve claimed I started the fight.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Doc agreed. “Can I come in for a shave?”

  “Yeah,” Otto said, moving aside. “I’ll start getting things ready.”

  ~*~*~

  Doc was shaking Otto’s hand when the door opened and Grange stormed into the shop. “Holyday, what the hell did you think you were doing?”

  Doc turned to Grange. “Afternoon, Sheriff. No idea what you’re talking about.”

  Grange glared at him. “Making my deputy arrest two innocent men. I really dislike apologizing.”

  Doc’s brow furrowed. “Innocent? One of them laid hands on me, and the second one tried to sucker punch me. How is that innocent?”

  “Your word against both of theirs,” Grange said stiffly. “They said you brandished your gun and threatened them.”

  “What did your deputy say?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Grange said.

  Doc just stared at him disbelievingly. “Are you shitting me? You’re just ignoring your own deputy’s word?”

  Grange’s knuckles popped. “Do you have any evidence of the alleged assault?”

  “No,” Doc said. “Are you done?”

  “Figures. Next time, my deputies won’t be so quick to come to your assistance,” Grange snorted.

  Otto stayed silent the entire time, but once Grange left, he sighed. “Well, that means I’m going to get harassed all the time and he won’t move to help.”

  “Yeah. Reminds me of something I’d forgotten, too,” Doc said. “Thanks for the shave, Otto. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  “Good day, Doc.”

  ~*~*~

  “Holyday!”

  Doc’s head snapped around to see who was yelling for him. A dwarven woman was rushing his way, looking frantic. “Easy, easy!” Doc told her, turning toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  “My husband! He needs you!” she cried, tears leaking from her eyes. “Please.”

  “Take me,” Doc said.

  It took a few minutes to traverse the town, but he was brought to a small residence with stone walls. Following her inside, Doc was taken to a bedroom where an older dwarf lay in bed, breathing shallowly.

  “Elder Creager,” Doc greeted the older dwarf. “You needed me?”

  Creager’s eyes opened and he glared at Doc. “No. I don’t need a half-blood to help me.”

  His wife stood at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands. “Fool! He’s the clan shaman. He can help. Just let him help, Michael.”

  Michael glared at his wife, but stopped when his face contorted with pain. “Told you… to get… Whittaker…!” he managed through pained gasps.

  Doc knelt next to the bed and summoned healing hands. Grabbing Michael’s arm, he was given a diagnosis almost immediately. Heart attack... arteries mostly clogged. I can fix it, Doc thought.

  Michael yanked his arm away, wheezing as he did. “Get your damn hands off me!”

  “You’re dying,” Doc told him, his hands still glowing. “I can heal you. Is your hatred so strong that you’d rather die and leave your wife alone than be healed by me?”

  “Yes!” Michael spat. “Get out!”

  Doc looked at Michael’s wife, who was openly weeping. “Ma’am, he’s refusing my help. What do you want me to do?”

  “Heal him!” she cried. “I don’t want to lose him. He might be an angry grouch, but he’s all I have...”

  Doc looked back at Michael, who was sweating profusely. “Your wife wants to keep you.”

  “She’s sentimental,” Michael wheezed. “She’d rather set aside old hatred just to keep me.”

  “Well, I don’t like a woman in distress,” Doc said. “Feel free to keep on hating me for many more years to come.” With that said, he took Michael’s arm and pushed healing into the dwarf.

  Michael tried to yank his arm away again, but he was weak, and Doc wasn’t letting go this time. The pressure in the dwarf’s chest began to abate and his breathing came easier as he snarled at Doc.

  Doc let go of him and stood up, backing away from the bed. “You’ll live.” He looked at the wife. “Ma’am, cut back on how much fat he eats. It was hurting his heart. He’ll be fine, but better safe than sorry.”

  Crying harder, she nodded. “Thank you, Shaman… thank you!”

  “Damned breed,” Michael snarled, throwing the blanket off himself. “I’ll toss you out myself!”

  Doc chuckled as he backed away. “Glad to see you’re feeling better. Excuse me.”

  Michael had just gotten to his feet when his wife tackled him back onto the bed, kissing him. “Don’t leave me!” she cried out as she did it.

  Doc left the house in a hurry, glad to have helped even if Michael hated him.

  ~*~*~

  He’d only made it halfway back to the Lily when Whittaker shouted at him, “Holyday!”

  Doc sighed, stopped walking, and turned to the irate man. “Whittaker, something wrong?”

  “Something wrong? You’ve been healing people!”

  “My goddess has been healing people,” Doc said. “I’ve just been her conduit.”

  “Semantics,” Whittaker spat. “You said you weren’t a healer!”

  “I’m a man of faith,” Doc replied. “Healing isn’t my vocation, but I can do it. I never said I couldn’t, just that it wasn’t my job.”

  Nostrils flaring, Whittaker snarled at him. “I’ll see you arrested!”

  “For what?” Doc asked, already knowing.

  “Healing without a license!”

  “Don’t need one as a faith healer. Just need a place of worship.”

  “There’s only the church in town for that!” Whittake
r snapped.

  “Nope. One was registered with the clerk. Don’t worry, though. Your clientele is safe. I’m just healing the ones you refuse to help.”

  Whittaker’s face became red in anger. “I don’t refuse to help anyone.”

  “No, you just keep putting them off, instead,” Doc said, his own voice growing heated. “That’s infinitely worse. They don’t seek other help because of that. You’d rather let them die.”

  Whittaker slapped Doc. “How dare you!”

  Doc spat a bit of blood mixed with his saliva— he hadn’t been expecting the hit and had nipped his own tongue. “Well, if you want it that way...” Doc growled, balling his fist and slugging Whittaker in the gut.

  Gasping as the air was driven out of him, Whittaker fell to his knees.

  Doc looked down at him. “You’re scum, Whittaker. Bigoted and an idiot. Just stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. You want me to stop? That’s fine. Start healing everyone equally, not just based on their blood.”

  Whittaker raised his head as Doc strode away from him. The anger and resentment in his face made Spot’s hackles rise as he started to follow Doc.

  ~*~*~

  Making it back to the Lily, Doc felt tired. The whole day felt like it’d been testing him, and he had to wonder if he’d grown soft, having gotten used to everything working out for him.

  The Lily was still not as busy as normal, but was fairly lively when he arrived. Heather was playing a jaunty tune on the piano, and Doc felt a smile begin to grow on his face. She’s really embracing the new music styles, he thought.

  Stopping at the bar briefly, he gave Jasmine a smile. “How has it been?”

  “A little slower, but still good. We’ve heard that the Gold Strike ran a tournament and that someone ousted a cheating dealer.”

  “Idiot kept doing it,” Doc snorted. “Some people can’t just cheat a little. They have to keep pressing it.”

  “Some people,” Jasmine shrugged. “Did you want a drink?”

  “Whiskey, and something dark to chase it, please?” Doc asked.

  “Oh, Doc,” Cassia said, coming down the stairs, “is now good for you?”

  Doc frowned, trying to think about what she could mean, then smiled when he remembered. “If we can wrangle Lia out of the back.”

  Jasmine looked up from pouring his drink. “You need Lia?”

  “Ask her to step out front, but don’t tell her I asked,” Doc said. “There’s a surprise for her.”

  Jasmine set his drinks down and went to go get Lia. Cassia went over to Heather as the half-elf finished her current song with a flourish. The two put their heads together, and Cassia moved onto the stage. Cassia getting on the stage drew attention from several customers, and the noise in the room dimmed substantially. Lia came out of the back, her expression puzzled as she looked at Cassia.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Cassia said, “we have a new song for you tonight. It’s a powerful song that reminds me of a man I know and hope to see again someday. While I embrace this song for him, it isn’t mine. This song was made for Lia, by Doc. I hope you all enjoy.”

  Heather grinned as her fingers danced across the ivory keys of the piano and the first notes of I Need A Hero floated on the air. Heather played the first few bars, then repeated them. The second time, Cassia began to sing.

  The bar listened as she sang the lines softly, but when she got to the right spot, she planted her feet and started to sing powerfully. The room was dead silent as she let her emotions pour into the lyrics.

  Someone in the crowd found the beat and, alone to start with, he kept time. It slowly began to build as others joined in, and as the song built toward its crescendo, the room nearly vibrated with the energy generated by the crowd.

  Cassia fell silent when there was a pause, but Heather’s fingers flew across the keys. She had enraptured the room as the song came hammering out. At the right point, Cassia started again, and the crowd focused on her as she belted out the last few lines. The sudden ending left the room nearly breathless.

  “Thank you,” Cassia said into the sudden silence. “Lia, did you enjoy it?”

  All eyes went to Lia, who was staring at Doc with a blank expression. “It was moving, Cassia. I can see where it reminds you of the marshal. Heather, one more time, please?”

  Heather smiled broadly. “As you say, Lia. Cassia?”

  “I’m ready,” Cassia said. “This time, this is for Wenn.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Doc hoped everyone would be okay for the day, as Zava had been grinning throughout breakfast. He was surprised Lia hadn’t joined them, but figured she had things to take care of.

  He stopped in the hall and gave Posy a smile. “How are you today, Posy?”

  “Good, Doc. Are you busy today?”

  Something in her tone caught Doc’s attention. “I do have something to take care of, but I could be free after that. Did you need me?”

  “I was hoping you’d help me study,” Posy said a little shyly. “Momma said not to bother you if you had things to take care of.”

  “I should be back in less than an hour, okay?”

  Posy’s face lit up with a beautiful smile. “Yes! I’ll be ready.”

  “Okay, I’ll get going and be back as soon as I can.”

  Doc glanced back to see Posy bouncing into the dining room to collect the dirty dishes and chuckled softly. He was still smiling when he entered the main room. Jasmine smiled at him while she served drinks to a player, and Doc winked when he went past her.

  As he walked to the door, he saw that the room was bustling like usual again. Back to normal. That means the tournament was the reason we dipped yesterday.

  It was a quick walk to Blackbeard’s shop, and Doc smiled at the doorbell jingling when he entered. “Blackbeard, sorry for not making it yesterday.”

  The dwarf shrugged. “You’re the customer, and you’d already paid for them.”

  “Yeah, that’s true, but I said I’d be here and I wasn’t.”

  “Life happens to all of us,” Blackbeard replied. “I heard you drove off a couple of idiots giving Otto a hard time.”

  “Pretty sure Whittaker’s behind that one,” Doc snorted. “He also confronted me in the street.”

  “I hadn’t heard that,” Blackbeard said with a chuckle. “What happened?”

  Doc gave him a quick recap of his encounter with Whittaker. “I somehow doubt he’s going to let it go.”

  “He’s a spiteful one,” Blackbeard said. “You can see it in his eyes.”

  “He’ll learn, one way or the other,” Doc shrugged. “Anyway, how about those guns?”

  Blackbeard laughed. “Of course.” Stepping into the back for a second, he came out with the rifle and pistol in his hands. “Here we are. I had the belt tooled with a little decoration for you.”

  Doc picked up the pistol belt and laughed at the image of all four aces tooled into the leather. “Well, I can’t deny that I’m favored by Luck. How much did that cost?”

  “Nothing,” Blackbeard said. “When I told them who it was for, they did it gratis.”

  “Okay,” Doc said as he buckled the belt on. He thought it was a little odd that he’d felt naked without a pistol on, after having only been wearing one for a few days. Settling the belt, he smiled when his hand fell naturally onto the grip of the pistol. “Nice.”

  “And the rifle,” Blackbeard said, laying it on the counter.

  Doc looked the rifle over and his lips twitched up. Right behind the rear sight was a metal engraving bearing the inscription that marked it as one of the rare rifles. There was also a light engraving down the barrel. Looking into the chamber, Doc made sure it was clear before checking the feel against his shoulder, pointing to the floor as he did so.

  “Feels good,” Doc said as she set the rifle back on the counter.

  “And ammo,” Blackbeard said, placing a couple of boxes of ammo on the counter. “I’d suggest more, but that’s up to you.”
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  “More would be good,” Doc said. “Triple, if you have them.”

  Blackbeard gave him a knowing grin and dropped another six boxes on the counter. “If that’s what you want.”

  Doc shook his head and drew the pistol. Opening the chamber first to make sure it was unloaded, he gave it a good look over. Acid-etched onto the left side of the barrel were the words Mustang Wilds Six-Shooter. There was another engraving down the right side of the barrel, carved into the metal.