The Accomplice, page 15
“Not really,” Steve said. “I just like to dabble when I’ve got some money burning a hole in my pocket.”
“Well, by all means, burn away.”
Steve laughed good-naturedly enough but was unable to hide his discomfort when looking down at all the markings on the felt-covered table. “I . . . uh . . . don’t exactly know what I’m doing here, so—”
“Nonsense,” Doc cut in smoothly. “Don’t let all this trouble you. This here,” he said, tapping the wooden box at his right hand, “holds a deck of cards.” With his left hand, Doc produced a deck of cards and deftly fanned them out and in before spreading them onto the table in a perfectly symmetrical arc. “As you can see,” he explained while flipping the end card to cause the arc to ripple over until each card was now faceup, “it’s just a standard deck. Nothing special and nothing to be worried about.”
Catching the intimidated expression on his own face, Steve chuckled and nodded. “So far, so good.”
“I put the deck into this box, drain the soda . . .” After dropping the deck faceup into the box, he peeled off the first card, revealed it, and set it aside. “Top card’s the soda, by the way. We have to come up with new names to keep this simple little game interesting.”
That got a laugh from Steve as well as the others sitting at the table.
“I take one card off the top,” Doc said, “and set it aside. That one loses. The one you see in the box wins.”
Taking the cigarette from his mouth and holding it between two fingers of his left hand, Doc made a sweeping motion across the felt table. On the table were depictions of every card in the suit of spades. “You bet on a card by putting your money on which one you think will show up. Put one of those pennies on top of your bet if you think that card is a loser.”
“And what if none of those cards come up?”
“Then that would make you the loser. But don’t worry, the odds are about fifty-fifty since we don’t mind you keeping track of which ones have already been played.” As he said that, Doc pointed to the spot directly across from him where a skinny old man sat behind a contraption similar to an abacus.
The abacus was sectioned off into portions representing each of the thirteen types of cards with beads in each area to show how many of those cards had already been played.
“And just in case you don’t trust me,” Doc said as if such a possibility was too absurd to even be considered, “Holly stays right here to keep an eye on me.”
Reflexively, Steve’s eyes went to the redhead perched on a stool next to Doc. Her long, scarlet hair was pulled into a braid that hung over one shoulder. The braid stopped just short of tickling the skin above her ample cleavage, which was bared thanks to the low-cut neckline of her purple dress.
“Howdy, ma’am,” Steve said with a tip of his hat.
Holly winked at him. Technically speaking, she was there to keep more of an eye on those doing the betting than the dealer, but she didn’t see any need to point that out.
“You ever hear of skinning?” Doc asked as he collected the cards from the table and box so he could shuffle them all together.
Steve shook his head. “Nope. But I do play plenty of five-card stud.”
Doc ignored the invitation for poker and kept shuffling. “Skinning is a wonderful game I used to play as a child. This right here isn’t too much different. Faro’s an easy way to make me a very poor man.”
Although a few of the other players chuckled under their breath at that, most of them were just anxious for Doc to shut up and start dealing.
“Give our friend here a loan, Holly,” Doc said as he cleared his throat and set aside the cards for a moment.
Leaning forward, the redhead fixed her eyes on Steve and slipped two pale fingers down into her ample cleavage. When her hand reemerged, there was a folded dollar between her fingers.
Coughing under his breath, Doc reached into his pocket, found his flask, and took a few quick sips. When he put the flask down again, his breathing was more or less normal.
“I couldn’t take this,” Steve said while holding the dollar. “I’ve got my own money.”
“Pick a card,” Doc said as he put the deck into the box. “Any card.”
Even before Steve had made his decision, the other players at the table scrambled to put their money down on the various cards depicted upon the felt. Some of those bets had pennies on them and others were covering more than one card at a time. Eventually, Steve slapped his dollar onto the eight.
Nodding, Doc cleared his throat and slipped the first card off the top. “Here’s the soda,” he said as he revealed the nine of clubs.
One of the men who’d put his money on the nine to win swore and punched his knee.
Doc’s hand drifted to the box and peeled off the top card, which was the king of hearts. Under that one was the eight of diamonds. “There now,” he said in a southern drawl that was smooth as honey. “Wasn’t that easy?”
Once again, Holly leaned forward and slid some money toward Steve. She also paid off the other two gentlemen at the table who were smart enough to follow the newcomer’s lead.
“That’s it?” Steve asked.
Doc nodded. “That’s it. There’s plenty more cards in here to go,” he said while patting the box. “What’s your next lucky pick?”
For a moment, Steve glanced back and forth between the felt layout in front of him and the poker games that were taking place less than five feet in almost every direction. Doc was taking another drink from his flask and wincing as the liquor made its way down his throat while Holly played with her hair in a way that seemed to tickle the uppermost curve of her breasts.
“I’m in,” Steve said decidedly. “Can I bet on more than one at a time?”
“Only if you want to break my back even quicker. Holly, show the man the finer aspects of this little game.”
“Glad to, Doc.” With that, the redhead leaned forward again to explain where bets were placed and what each spot on the table meant. This time, every man at that table seemed more than happy to wait and watch the show as she explained what they already knew so well.
Caleb leaned on the bar with both elbows. Although he’d tossed a few drunks out for trying to fall asleep in that very same position, he figured that he’d cut himself a little slack since the sun was turning the sky a bright blue. Not that Caleb would have seen the sky, of course. At the moment, he was doing his best to keep from seeing double.
“How long’s he been at it?” Caleb asked the young woman leaning against the other side of the bar.
Dolly was one of the working girls who’d been making the Flush their base of operations. Having just gotten back after putting one customer to bed, she had no trouble at all stepping away from the bar to get a look at the watch dangling from the closest drunk’s pocket. “Just past nine,” she reported.
“Jesus Christ, that’s almost twelve hours.”
Standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck to get a better look at Doc’s table, she said, “Looks to me like he’s doing all right.”
“Which one? Doc or Steve?”
“If Steve’s still in his spot after playing so long against Doc, he must be doing something right.”
“Maybe. I guess I’d better go over there and have a look.” With that, Caleb sucked in a breath and tried to force the cobwebs out of his head. He managed to keep his walk steady enough as he crossed through the saloon, but couldn’t resist dropping into the closest of Doc’s unoccupied seats.
“Why, Caleb,” Doc said as if he’d just awakened from a seven-hour nap. “You’re just in time to witness our friend’s triumphant return.”
“That’s right,” Steve said enthusiastically. “Ol’ number eight’s been my lucky number all night long, and I know she won’t let me down now. Five hundred dollars. Just to be safe, I’m coppering a three-hundred-dollar bet on the ace!”
“Bucking the tiger?” Doc asked as he tapped the felt. As the phrase suggested, there was indeed a tiger painted on the picture of that ace.
“You bet your ass, Doc! Now turn over those cards and let’s get this show moving!”
Caleb dragged himself out of the seat and walked over to Holly. The redhead was holding up well enough, but she was in the habit of sleeping until four in the afternoon to make sure she was on her toes.
“How much?” Caleb whispered into Holly’s ear.
“He’s been up as much as three thousand, but Doc’s been taking it away piece by piece.”
Caleb glanced at Steve’s stack of chips and counted another six hundred that wasn’t in play.
Pulling in a wheezing breath, Doc took a card with a trembling hand and flipped it onto the stack. The card in the box was the four of clubs, but the one on the table was the ace of hearts. “The tiger pulls through,” Doc said in a cracking voice. “Well played, suh.”
Hearing Doc’s southern drawl become so thick set off warning bells in Caleb’s head. That, combined with the trace of red on Doc’s lips, made him put a hand on Doc’s shoulder and bring himself down a bit closer to the dealer’s level.
“Maybe it’s about time to pack it in,” Caleb said. Looking over to Steve, he added, “We’ll be open later on. Why not pay your wife a visit and come back tonight? I think we could all use some sleep.”
Steve’s eye twitched as he watched the larger of his two bets get pulled toward Doc. When he saw his winnings for the smaller bet come his way, he said, “I’d hate to stop before making my money back. Jen would kill me if I came home this far behind.”
“Hard times call for . . .” Doc paused and coughed into a handkerchief. After dabbing at the corner of his mouth, he managed to croak out the rest of his sentence. “Hard times call for bold moves, Steve. You know that all too well.”
“I sure do, Doc. I sure do. One last play for all the marbles. Eight might have kicked me a little, but it won’t do it again.” Steve pushed all of his money onto the eight marked upon the felt and watched it as if he expected the pile of chips to perform a song and dance.
Still holding the handkerchief to his mouth with one hand, Doc used his free hand to peel off the top card and snap it away.
“You all right, Doc?” Caleb asked.
Doc’s eyes went to Holly at first and then to the man sitting behind the abacus. When he spotted Caleb, he seemed surprised to find someone else at the table. After a few quick blinks, Doc nodded. That movement alone was enough to shake a few beads of sweat loose from his blond hair to trickle along his sunken cheek.
“There’s a bet in progress,” Doc rasped.
Steve watched the cards as if he was about to jump out of his skin. Every time Doc’s hand trembled over the box of cards, he twitched expectantly. Just when he was about to bust, he saw a card get pulled from the box and set down next to it in the losing position. It was the jack of hearts.
The only one who wasn’t chomping at the bit to see the next card was Doc himself. When he forced back another cough and managed to lift his hand to reveal the card in the top of the box, it was to search for the nearby flask.
“It’s an eight,” Steve said in disbelief. “Good Lord, it’s an eight! I love this game!”
Caleb moved forward before Steve could reach for more chips or Doc could reach for another card. “Holly, pay our friend here what he’s owed. Lester, can you pack away this table?”
The man at the abacus nodded and started going through the motions of collecting the cards and the rest of the faro setup.
“Time for me to close up,” Caleb said.
Once he had his fists full of winnings, Steve managed to find his voice again. “This is the best night of my life. Jen’s not going to believe this.”
“Bring her along later, and I’ll buy the champagne,” Caleb said in a rush. “But I need to clear this place out right now.”
Finally getting up from his seat, Steve stuffed his money into his pockets and clasped Caleb’s hand to shake it vigorously. “I’ll take you up on that. In fact, I’ll buy the drinks when I come back tonight.” Looking over to Doc, he said, “I’ll be looking forward to another game. Maybe later we can play some poker.”
Doc nodded, but it was all he could do to keep himself upright.
After escorting Steve to the door and locking up, Caleb rushed back to Doc’s table. “You all right?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you this bad. Should I fetch a doctor?”
“I . . . am a doctor,” Doc wheezed. “Just fill up my flask.”
“You’ve had plenty,” Caleb said. “I don’t want you to die in my place. There’s already been too much of that around here lately.”
Doc grinned to reveal the blood that was inside his mouth and smeared over his teeth. “I guess I could . . . use some . . . rest.”
That was all Caleb needed to hear. Lifting the dentist out of his chair was like lifting a scarecrow. “I’ll take you back to your place, and if I see you try to come in here anytime soon, I’ll toss you out myself.”
“I hooked that . . . player for you real good,” Doc said.
“You mean Steve?”
Doc nodded. The glazed look in his eyes made it difficult to tell if he even knew he was being taken through the front door and into the street. When the fresh air hit his face, he responded just a little bit. “He’s a friendly enough . . . sort.”
“Yeah, and it looks like he’ll be coming back no matter what. You don’t have to be here for it.”
“All I need is a bit of rest,” Doc said.
Caleb and Doc were walking down Main Street. The sun hadn’t been up long enough for its rays to become cruel, and the early morning air still had a bit of refreshing dampness just beneath its surface. Surprisingly enough, Doc was responding to every step they took. Caleb could practically feel the dentist’s inner fire coming to life like a glowing ember inside a furnace.
“Do I need to load you onto a horse?” Caleb asked.
Doc shook his head. “I’m staying over the bank on Lamar.”
“You mean that storefront over the Dallas County Bank?”
“That’s the one. A man’s . . . got to make an honest living when he’s not . . . playing cards.”
Caleb laughed and felt Doc start to pull away from him. “You all right to walk?”
Pausing for a moment, Doc pulled in a breath and glanced over at him as if just realizing where he was and what was happening. That fog cleared quickly enough as Doc said, “I appreciate your help, Caleb, but I can make it on my own from here.”
“That’s all right, Doc. I don’t mind.”
“I won’t be carried like some invalid. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.”
“First of all, I’m not carrying you. Secondly, the only thing I’ve got to do is have some breakfast, and there’s plenty of fine restaurants down Main Street. Now, are you going to make me wait for you to run on ahead, or do you mind taking a stroll with me?”
Although Doc’s pale, blood-stained face looked imposing enough, his eyes carried a fiery anger of their own. After a few seconds had passed, he simply looked tired. “Maybe I could show you my new practice. After all, it was thanks to your pull with that bank manager that I got enough time to put down the deposit.”
“You’ve actually got a practice going?”
“I’m not exactly fighting off the customers, but there’s a cot in the back, and the quiet is good for me.”
“You know any places to eat around there?”
“A few.”
“Good,” Caleb said. “Because I need to discus that loss I took thanks to your friend Steve Wright.”
“He’s going to be in town for at least a few weeks. Maybe longer.”
“And how do you know that?”
“We were at that table for the better part of twelve hours,” Doc said. “You tend to learn an awful lot about someone in that time. Speaking of which, I owe you my thanks.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve found myself shoved out of plenty of saloons, and I was lucky to still have my hat when I hit the street. Not many people take the time to point me in the right direction.”
“Earn back my losses, and we’ll be even.”
Doc smirked and nodded. “The wheels are in motion, Caleb. Just stand back and let them turn.”
[20]
Doc was back in his seat after a day’s absence from the Busted Flush. In the weeks that followed, Steve Wright became something of a permanent fixture in the saloon as well. He played poker and faro, holding his own like most of the other gamblers in the place. It wasn’t until May that Caleb found out Steve was taking a commuter train into Dallas every week just to maintain his games. It seemed that the Busted Flush was finally on the map.
Standing behind the bar, he glanced over his shoulder as the office door swung open and Hank wandered outside. Although the older man looked tired, he was in better spirits than when it had been Caleb pulling that same duty.
“Quitting time already?” Caleb asked.
“Already?” Hank groused. “It’s damn near seven o’clock!”
“You sure you don’t mind fussing with all them books? I wouldn’t mind taking over for you if you need a change of pace.”
“I’m doing just fine. That office and those books are in better order than they’ve ever been since Sarah left. Besides,” Hank added as he poured himself a cup of coffee, “you most certainly would mind sitting behind that desk. Actually, I think this is the way it should be.”
“I think you’re right. Being out here makes me feel more like a saloon owner and less like a goddamn banker.”
Suddenly, Hank snapped his fingers. “That reminds me! You do still own most of this place, so you should go see Charlie Austin.”
“Champagne Charlie? What’s he want?”
“I got a note from him about some sort of business proposal. Since the Flush is still your baby, I think you should go see what he wants.”
“Aw, that sounds like something you could—”
“Just go,” Hank said. “I need to run to the butcher and a dozen other places for the missus and kids.”
