The Accomplice (17 page)

Hank glanced over at Doc’s faro table and shrugged. “It’s not even full.”

“Yeah, but that’s a damn mob compared to the action faro usually gets in this place.”

“We could’ve done better ourselves if we put some effort into it.”

“What do you mean? Doc’s doing a hell of a job. The man loves his work.”

“You call that work?” Hank asked, answering his own question with a grunt of a laugh forced out under his breath.

“As opposed to pouring drinks into Thirsty’s gullet? At least Doc doesn’t have to clean puke off the floor.”

“Gambling ain’t no way to make a living,” Hank grumbled. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Doc’s grasp for figuring numbers and calculating odds seemed like magic to someone who didn’t know the tricks of a gambler’s trade. Sometimes, Doc had such a good handle on the odds that it seemed like he had to be cheating. And as far as cheating went, that practice was so commonplace in saloon gambling that it was damn near accepted. The only thing that was truly frowned upon in that regard was getting caught.

Explaining even a piece of that to Hank was a waste of time. And besides that, Caleb was too busy enjoying his saloon to fuss about relieving the older man’s pessimism. “You want to know why Doc’s working out so well?” Caleb asked.

Hank pulled a pipe from beneath the tap and started pushing a rag through it to clean out the mold and sludge that had gathered in there. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Caleb pointed to the Flush’s front doors, which were being propped open by a brick instead of a drunk that refused to leave after being chucked out. Walking in, wearing a smile that practically spilled out and dripped onto the floor beneath him, was a man in his mid-thirties dressed in a rumpled brown suit. The jacket was folded and draped over one arm, and the sleeves of his white cotton shirt were rolled up just past his elbows.

Accompanying the man was an attractive woman in a dress decorated with a red flower pattern. Her long brown hair was tied back with a simple pink ribbon that matched the choker tied around her neck. To say that she wasn’t as excited to be in the Busted Flush as her husband would have been an understatement.

“Are you sure about this, Steve?” she asked while taking in the sights and smells of the saloon. “I mean, I hear the Alhambra is so much nicer. Or what about the Crutchfield House? That’s just across the street.”

Steve took another few steps into the Flush and started nodding enthusiastically. “I won’t hear any of it, Jen. This is the place I want to be.” His eyes widened when he spotted the poker tables, and it was an obvious struggle for him to keep from running over there. “The man I talked to at the train station said this is the place I wanted.”

“The man probably gets a dollar every time he points someone in this direction,” the woman replied. “Come on. We haven’t even found a hotel yet.”

Caleb moseyed over to the couple and put on a smile. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but I can have a room rented in your name so you can get right to business. What’s your game?”

The man was slightly taller than Caleb and had a bit more bulk around his midsection. Of course, that wasn’t saying much, since some posts had more bulk around their midsections than Caleb Wayfinder. When he removed his dented bowler hat, he pushed back the stray tufts of dark hair that had been set free. “Actually, I was hoping to play some poker. I hear there’s a tournament?”

Caleb winced. “You just missed the tournament, but we still hold more poker games a night than you can shake a stick at.”

“Perfect!”

“By the way, I’m Caleb Wayfinder. I own this place.”

Extending his hand, the man said, “Steve Wright. This lovely lady is my wife Jen.”

Caleb shook Steve’s hand as well as Jen’s. Although she smiled politely enough, she was still easing her way toward the door. Leaning in and lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Caleb said, “Actually, Mrs. Wright, Field’s Opera House does put on a better variety show than we do. If you’d rather take that in, I know a girl named Sarah who would be plenty happy to accompany you.”

That not only put a genuine smile on Jen’s face but also made her squeeze Caleb’s hand a little tighter as she shook it. “Really? That sounds wonderful.”

“My partner was just about to leave. If you’d like him to walk you over there, Hank would be more than happy to oblige.”

Still gazing longingly at the poker tables, Steve nodded but wound up shaking his head. “Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I think I should take her there myself.”

“Should I set up a spot for you at one of our tables?”

“Sure. I guess.”

Caleb spotted something familiar in the way Steve was looking at the gambling tables. It was a look in the man’s eyes that reminded Caleb of a kid that just couldn’t pick out the right flavor of candy stick from the selection in front of him.

“What about faro?” Caleb asked. “Doc’s going to be dealing all night and he’s been a favorite among those who buck the tiger.”

“You host faro games, too?” Steve asked.

“Sure do.”

“That sounds fine, but I’m more of a poker player.”

“I think you might be able to twist Doc’s arm into starting a game. He has a knack for putting together some wild ones.” The more he spoke, the deeper Caleb felt the hook sink into Steve’s mouth. All he needed was one last tug to land the catch for good. “How about I reserve a table for you and let Doc know you’re coming? I’m sure you can pick up a few more players at the show if you drop his name.”

Steve nodded and said, “I’ll do that. It’s been great meeting you, Caleb.”

Even after Steve escorted his wife out the door, Caleb still found himself smiling. The other man’s enthusiasm was like a charge that was still working its way through the air.

“What the hell are you grinning at?” Hank asked as Caleb stepped back behind the bar.

“Did you see that couple?”

“Yeah. Pretty wife.”

“She wore two lovely gold rings and had a handsome cameo on that choker. Steve also had a hell of a nice watch in his vest pocket. Gold chain and all.”

“Ah, so you’re hoping they might plunk down that fine jewelry onto one of the poker tables?” Hank asked.

“Only if things go better than expected. Actually, I was just happy to see a man come in here who has money in his pockets and no gun around his waist. Things are looking up for the Flush, and players like Mr. Wright just proves it.”

Hank patted Caleb on the shoulder. “Not to rain on your picnic, but Mr. Wright ain’t even here anymore.”

“He’ll be back.”

“You certain about that?”

Caleb nodded. “That fellow didn’t have a liar’s face. Either that, or he’s one of the finest actors in this country. Myself, I’ll put money down on him sitting right here later tonight after he gets that pretty wife of his to a show and settled in.”

Hank let out a tired grunt and worked a kink out of his back. “Well, you can hope all you want, just so long as it doesn’t interfere with me going home right about now.”

“Go on ahead. Give my best to the kids.”

Before heading to the door, Hank examined Caleb’s face and nodded approvingly. “Seems like getting out of that office truly did wonders for you.”

“You’re better than a doctor,” Caleb replied. “I feel almost like the man in that picture hanging up in my office.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hank said as he narrowed his eyes to study Caleb even harder. “You’re not so gloomy anymore, but you’re far from the lad that started up this saloon with me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe it’s just that the fellow in that picture would have been happier to be running a business that’s doing well instead of luring visitors into a card game so someone like Doc could fleece them for all they’re worth.”

“The house take on games like that are what keep the Flush above water. Don’t forget it.”

“I guess. Anyway, have a good night, and try to let that nice fellow keep his wedding ring.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.” Caleb didn’t have to wait long before he got a scolding glare from Hank. When he saw that, Caleb smirked and added, “Just kidding. Get out of here before you worry yourself to death.”

Hank turned his back to Caleb and shuffled toward the door. Although a good portion of the Busted Flush was alive with laughter and boisterous voices, none of that seemed to rub off on the bartender. On the contrary, Hank couldn’t seem to leave the saloon fast enough and showed no signs of looking back.

A few moments after Hank left, another familiar figure rose up over those seated at the various tables scattered throughout the Flush. Doc got up from his faro table and made his way over to the bar where Caleb already had a shot of whiskey waiting for him.

Taking the liquor and tossing it back like a splash of water, Doc set the glass down and lifted a fist to his mouth. His eyes clenched shut, and a series of coughs rattled his shoulders. Although most of the hacking was muffled by his hand and tightly closed lips, Doc wasn’t able to keep all the coughs inside of himself for long.

“I see . . . you’re taking on the role of genial host now?” Doc asked between coughs.

Knowing that Doc didn’t appreciate anyone trying to tend to him when his consumption was acting up, Caleb satisfied himself with the fact that the coughs didn’t seem too serious just yet. “Yeah, well, that nice couple had a look about them.”

Doc chuckled once, which turned into a grating hacking sound that made Caleb’s throat hurt just hearing it. “I take it that means you set him up for a game?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Splendid. By the way, there’s a man over there who wants to have a word with you regarding some accusations of cheating.”

“Anything I should know before I start blindly defending you?” Caleb asked.

Doc merely shrugged. “Tricks of the trade, Caleb. Nothing special.”

“Is that him steaming over by your table?”

Glancing over there, Doc nodded. “That’s the one.”

Caleb sighed and prepared himself to deal with the angry gambler. “How much did he lose?”

“Given enough time, he was set to lose all he had.” Seeing the impatience growing upon Caleb’s face, Doc added, “About four hundred.”

“And you couldn’t handle him yourself?”

“I could handle him just fine. I just came over here for a drink.”

“Then you go there and handle him, and I’ll work my way over in a minute.”

But Doc wasn’t in any hurry to move. In fact, he hardly seemed to be paying attention to a word Caleb was saying.

“Is there something else you wanted to tell me about?” Caleb asked. “Someone who threatened to shoot you if he lost again, perhaps?”

“Have you ever seen that man before?” Doc asked.

Noticing the way Doc was intently staring into the crowd of card tables, Caleb tried to pick out the person that had just been mentioned. Surprisingly enough, there was one man in particular who stood out from all the others. “You mean that one with the blue bandanna?”

“That’s him,” Doc said with a nod. “He’s been giving you the eye for the last hour or so, but hasn’t left that table. Sometimes, he just picks a spot on the wall and stares at it for a few minutes without moving a muscle.”

The man in question sat at one of the small round tables that wasn’t used for cards or dice. He sat there alone, dressed in a dark jacket that looked as if it been dragged through the mud before being slapped over his shoulders. Bristly hair sprouted from his scalp at odd intervals, but not in the way that Caleb’s hair grew. Instead of being the result of a bad haircut, this stranger’s appearance came more from the fact that his face and scalp resembled a half-melted candle.

Now that he’d spotted the man, Caleb couldn’t take his eyes off of him. The figure sat bunched over slightly with his head bowed and eyes glaring up at the rest of the world. Those eyes were so dark and so far back in their sockets that it was difficult to say which direction they were pointed.

“I don’t know the man, myself,” Doc said, “but I thought you might want to know that he’s packing a pistol in his boot as well as the one around his waist.”

“That seems to be the fashion these days.”

“Only around here,” Doc replied. “If you weren’t so good at pulling in unlucky souls from off the street, I might consider moving my game to a more respectable establishment.”

Coming from anyone else, that might have sounded like an insult. But when it was delivered in Doc’s smooth voice and Georgia drawl, it sounded as good-natured as it was intended to be. It was fortunate that Caleb didn’t intend on responding to Doc’s comment, because he would have been speaking to empty air. Doc was already on his way back to his faro table.

“What’s gonna be done about this?” griped a short, olive-skinned man with a full beard and an unruly mustache. “I been cheated, and that’s all there is to it!”

Doc settled into his chair and cleared his throat after a few hacking breaths.

The busty redhead who’d formerly been the main drink server at the Flush took her spot on lookout. Perched upon a stool behind the table and to Doc’s right, she handed a deck of cards to the slender, pale-faced dealer and smiled to the players gathering around the front of the layout.

Slamming his fist down, the olive-skinned man stared straight down into Doc’s eyes. “You hear me, you pasty son of a bitch? You’re either paying my money back, or I’ll have a word with the owner of this place.”

“Don’t bother with that,” said someone behind the complainer. “Doc and the owner of this stink hole are in it together.”

“All right then,” the olive-skinned man grunted. “I’ll just take my money back. Make it quick, Holliday. I hear there’s some honest games over at the St. Charles.”

“Put your money on the table or shut up,” Doc said plainly as he placed the cards into a small, open wooden box.