The Accomplice, page 20
“When did you mention that?”
“Somewhere along the line. The point is that we wanted to get that Wright fellow to help us figure out which lawman to trust, and that’s precisely what happened.”
Shrugging, Caleb said, “I guess you could say that.”
“We just need to hope that the lovely couple hasn’t left town just yet. There’s still some things Steve needs to do for us.”
Caleb shook his head. “It’s not we anymore, Doc. Just me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You nearly got killed today,” Caleb said as he poured himself another measure of whiskey. “Maybe this is all too much trouble to go through just to keep this place. I mean, Charlie and the other saloon owners seem to be doing well enough.”
“Charlie would smile through the Apocalypse,” Doc said. “That doesn’t mean he’s enjoying the show.”
“Then maybe I don’t like having others get hurt when I’m the one that should be in the thick of this mess.”
“If you’re still referring to me, then you can stop right there. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
“Are you serious?” Even as he asked that question, however, Caleb could see his answer written across Doc’s face. Although the slender man never looked like the picture of health, he did have a bit more color in his cheeks than normal, and his breaths were coming and going without a scratch.
Doc lifted his glass and took another drink. The whiskey seemed to be spreading the smile even farther across his face. “This thing is so close to being over that you can’t even see it. Weeks has taken a beating from us both, and he’s ripe to be plucked from his spot. He’s practically begging for it.”
Caleb grinned at the excitement in Doc’s voice. “What haven’t you told me?”
“Just that you and our mutual friend Steve Wright are about to get yourselves into an exclusive, high-stakes game of poker with Mr. Bret Weeks.”
“What?”
Doc nodded. “I went to pay Weeks a visit after my little scuffle with those deputies.”
“And you got him to arrange a game of poker instead of taking another shot at you?”
“I can be very convincing.”
Rather than press for more details, Caleb asked, “How high of stakes are we talking?”
“As high as we want to drive them. Since I’m going to be in that same game, we could steer it any way we want.”
Caleb thought that over but wound up shaking his head. “I doubt Weeks will let us take more than a few breaths before turning his hired guns loose on us.”
“He’ll be more than happy to play if he already thinks I plan on stabbing you in the back to get this saloon out from under you.”
“You’re talking about betting the Flush in a game of poker?”
Shrugging, Doc said, “If you do that, he’d have to match your bet. That’s the beauty of the game.”
“I don’t know about that, Doc.”
“We’ve got an ace in the hole,” Doc said with a grin. “If we play our cards right, there’s no way for us to lose.”
“There’s always a way to lose,” Caleb said. “That’s the other side of the game you love so very much.”
“True. But you’ve got to admit, there’s plenty for us to gain in this.” Leaning forward, Doc added, “This game is just the thing we needed. We know Weeks has at least one Texas Ranger in his pocket, so it’s only a matter of time before he uses him again.”
“And what about Grissom? That burned-up killer surely hasn’t packed up and left town just yet.”
“He’s been around for a while and he’ll still be around whether this poker game happens or doesn’t. At least we know he’ll be kept on his leash if this game does happen. If we keep ourselves covered, we stand a better than average chance of getting away fairly unscathed. The only other way to avoid locking horns with Weeks sooner or later is by packing up and leaving Dallas for good. While I don’t intend on staying here forever, I surely don’t intend on leaving like that.”
As much as he wanted to, Caleb couldn’t fight that logic. “So you’d rather run headlong into the jaws of death instead of wait for it to sneak up on you?”
Doc’s face took on an expression of grim resolve. “Either way, it’ll sink its teeth into you. Might as well put up a fight.”
“For a man in your shape, you’re a hell of an optimist, Doc.”
The darkness in Doc’s eyes lifted, and he smiled at Caleb. “Considering the source of those words, I’ll take that as a compliment. Are we going to sit in on Weeks’s game?”
“I don’t like gambling with my saloon, but my luck’s held up this far. Why not push it a little more? I’ll go pay a visit to Steve’s hotel.”
“Once this plays itself out,” Doc said, “you’ll see that luck didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.”
The knock on the door marked 204 was so subtle that it was almost missed by the couple inside. It came a little louder the second time, which was enough to induce one of its occupants to answer the call. Steve Wright pulled the door open and almost slammed it right in Caleb’s face.
“Who is it?” Jennifer asked from inside the room.
Without turning to look over his shoulder, Steve replied, “It’s the desk clerk. I’ll go settle the bill.”
“Good. Then we can leave this town first thing in the morning.”
Steve rushed out into the hall and shut the door quickly behind him.
Caleb was leaning patiently against the wall.
“What do you want?” Steve asked in a harsh whisper.
“I wanted to check in and see if you were doing well. You looked a little pale when you left my place.”
Actually, that condition had only worsened. To add to it, Steve was now sweating as well. “I lost everything I had and then I find out I was cheated!”
“There’s no proof of that.”
“It was in the newspaper!”
“Well, you shouldn’t believe everything you read. Anyway, I didn’t come to give you any trouble.”
“If you’re after your money, you’ll have to wait.” Forcing himself to bow out his chest a bit, Steve added, “I . . . uh . . . should get a refund, seeing as how it was one of your dealers who cheated me.”
“If the law was going to do anything about that, they would have done it already. Besides, Doc was already hauled off to jail and will be appearing in court with all the others that were dragged in earlier today. Did you read about that in the newspaper?”
“Actually, yes,” Steve replied as he gave up on his posturing and shook his head. “I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t want to go to the law, but my wife swore she saw Doc messing with the cards. She’s just upset.”
“That’s understandable. Just to show you there’s no hard feelings, I’ve settled your hotel bill all the way through the next few days.”
“But . . . we were going back to Dennison tomorrow.”
Caleb draped one arm over Steve’s shoulders and lowered his voice. “Would you stay if it meant working off that money you borrowed from me?”
“You’d mark off my loans?”
Caleb nodded.
“How many are we talking about?” Steve asked.
“How about all of them?”
[26]
When Doc walked into Thompson’s Varieties, everyone knew he was there for the big game being held by Bret Weeks. Doc was dressed in one of his finely tailored black suits with a gold watch chain crossing his midsection. His wide-brimmed hat fit perfectly on his head and was tipped in a friendly manner to everyone he passed. The holster under his arm was just as much a part of his attire as the string tie around Doc’s neck. While a few of the locals turned their noses up at seeing their town’s dentist walking the streets heeled, they’d started to shrug it off more and more lately.
“Evening, Doc,” said the burly man working the door. “Mr. Weeks is saving a spot for ya.”
“Good to know,” Doc said cheerily. “Have a bottle sent over for me.”
“Will do.”
As Doc made his way to the table at the back of the room, he picked out several familiar faces. One of those belonged to Weeks, himself, who was flanked by a few of his hired guns. Another was Steve Wright, who seemed to have regained his sunny disposition and even tossed Doc a wave the moment he caught sight of him.
“Howdy, Doc,” Steve said.
Doc nodded and took his seat. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your enterprising spirit, Steve.”
“Hopefully I’ll win back the rest of my money tonight.”
Winking, Doc said, “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Weeks chuckled confidently and motioned to the other man at the table. “Have you met Jack Vermillion?”
Doc looked across at the man sitting beside Weeks. Jack Vermillion was well dressed but still looked more like a cowboy wearing his Sunday best than a professional gambler who was born to wear a dark, expensive suit. Jack’s upper lip was covered with a bushy mustache, and his dark, close-set eyes were intently focused upon Doc’s face.
“I don’t believe so,” Doc said as he nodded in Jack’s direction. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Same here,” Jack replied. “You’d be the dentist I heard about? Holliday, is it?”
“Right on both accounts.”
“Well, I’ve got an ache in my jaw that’s been killing me for a few months now. Maybe you could take a look at it. That is, if you don’t harbor no bad feelings after I win all yer money.”
Doc nodded, but in a disinterested way that was half-formality and half-excuse to look in another direction.
“Are we ready to play?” Jack asked. “Or are we waiting for someone else to fill this seat?”
“I believe that someone has just arrived,” Weeks said.
Just then, Caleb approached the table and pulled out the last remaining chair between Steve and Weeks. He sat down and introduced himself to Jack Vermillion while nodding politely to everyone else. Everyone, that is, except for Weeks.
“I didn’t think you’d actually show,” Weeks said.
Caleb looked over and replied, “Why wouldn’t I? Should I expect you to cheat in your own place?”
Weeks let out a short, grunting laugh. “I’m just here for a friendly game. Surely no one is anxious to cheat at anything after all the attention that type of thing has gotten lately.”
“There is a bright side to that nonsense,” Doc said. “Everyone’s been going on about how grand the new courthouse is, and I’ll be getting a guided tour of that very place in a few days.”
“A guided tour?” Jack asked.
After taking a sip of his drink, Doc nodded. “My hearing is scheduled for the twenty-second of this month.”
It took a moment for Jack to realize that Doc wasn’t kidding. Once that sank in, he slapped the table and let out a loud laugh. “Well, with this sort of company to keep, this should be one hell of a night!”
Weeks grinned and shuffled the cards. “Mister, you don’t know the half of it.”
Weeks dealt the cards, and the game got rolling. After just a few hands, the five men around the table adopted a kind of friendly rivalry.
Jack Vermillion was quick to joke whether he won or lost.
Doc’s disposition rarely faltered from his normal, easygoing manner. The more he drank, the thicker his accent became. Even so, his hands remained unwavering as they tossed out and raked in money as though it wasn’t anything but so much meaningless paper.
Steve played frugally at first but soon loosened up after winning a few hands. Even as he joked and laughed right along with Doc and Jack, he couldn’t hide the beads of sweat that worked their way down his face as the stakes began to slowly creep their way out of his range.
It was a process that resembled the growth of a tree. While it couldn’t be seen by someone staring at every flip of the card or counting the money in front of each player, the game grew all the same. After enough time had passed, the sapling had developed thick branches and sprouted a thick mess of leaves.
“I’ll raise four hundred,” Doc said in the same tone of voice that he’d called a ten-dollar raise less than three hours ago.
“Four hundred?” Jack asked. “Make it five.”
Once Jack had pushed in the necessary amount, Weeks took a gander at his cards and then laid them down in front of him. “Five sounds like a good number.” He looked at Doc and spotted a subtle nod that be’d been waiting for the entire night. Glancing over to Caleb, he said, “But I was thinking more along the lines of five thousand.” With that, Weeks pushed in a quarter of the considerable stack that looked more like a wall in front of him.
Caleb and Weeks hadn’t said much to each other the whole night, but there wasn’t much tension between them. That is, there wasn’t until that very moment. Peeling up his cards so he could take another look at them, Caleb kept his face completely blank. The first two cards, nine of diamonds and four of clubs, weren’t pretty. The ace of hearts didn’t do much to bolster his spirits, but those last two cards looked awfully good since they were both nines as well.
“I’ll see your five thousand,” Caleb said as he pushed in just under half of his own stack, “plus another two thousand.”
By now, there was no way short of a mop for Steve to hide the sweat pouring off his face. Still, he managed to look down at his cards without letting them slip through his trembling fingers and push in the appropriate amount of money. In front of him, there was now just about enough to pay for a steak dinner. “I’d like to call, but my wife would have my scalp if I lost again.”
“This is a friendly game,” Weeks said. “Put in what you’ve got, and the rest of us can fight for the rest. You’ll still stand to double your money.”
Although Steve seemed tempted, he set his cards down and pushed them away. “Maybe next time.”
Staring down at his cards, Doc had as much emotion on his face as he might show while picking out his socks. With a shrug, he tossed his cards down.
“Too rich for your blood?” Jack teased.
“Make the call yourself,” Doc said. “Then you can flap your lips at me.”
Jack’s eyes darted back and forth between his cards. He then turned his attention to Weeks and the hungry look in that man’s eyes. From there, Jack glanced down at the pile of money in front of Weeks, which made his own stack look pathetic in comparison. “To hell with it,” Jack grunted. “A man can’t be shoved around in this game.” With those words still hanging in the air, he shoved in all of his money. “That covers the bet plus another . . . fifty-eight hundred I reckon.”
“Count it,” Caleb said.
Jack was only off by twenty-nine dollars and nodded proudly at his maneuver.
“Why, Jack,” Doc said with a grin. “You made a fool out of me. Steve and I here bet that you couldn’t count higher than twenty, and that was only if you took off your boots.”
“Twenty-one if I dropped my trousers,” Jack retorted. “But I can count as high as you please when there’s money involved.”
Everyone at the table got a laugh out of that, and Steve seemed even more relieved to be out of the game.
Without batting an eye, Weeks nodded down to his wall of chips. “I’ll bet everything I’ve got left.”
Jack started to choke on the whiskey he’d just sipped.
“You’re trying to shove us out,” Caleb said. “You don’t have the cards to pull this off.”
“One way to see for yourself,” Weeks replied.
“You know I don’t have enough to cover that bet.”
“Then maybe we can make this game really interesting. You put up your shares in that saloon of yours, and we can see what cards we’ve been dealt.”
“You want my part of the Flush? That’s worth more to me than whatever you’ve got in that pot.”
Weeks nodded slowly and said, “Then I guess you’re out.”
Caleb took another look at his cards. They were still the same as the last time he’d paid them a visit. Shifting his eyes up until he was staring straight at Weeks, be said, “Put up something of equal value to my saloon, and we’ve got a bet.”
“Fine,” Weeks said a little too quickly. “What about this place here? I may not own as much of Thompson’s Varieties as you do the Busted Flush, but I’d say there’s enough to cover the discrepancy between the initial bet.”
“My part of the Flush against your part of this place?” Caleb asked.
“That’s what I said.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Caleb forced himself to nod. “Let’s do it.”
It seemed as if every other noise in the saloon had been snuffed out. A few of Weeks’s gun hands stepped forward as if they’d emerged from the walls, adding another layer to the tension that was unfolding.
Jack’s nervous laughter cut through it all like a brick coming through a plate glass window. “Jesus H. Christ, I should’ve kept my beak out of this one!” he said while tossing his cards away as if they’d sprouted thorns.
“You heard the man, Doc,” Weeks said with a satisfied grin. “Pick up that deck and deal us our cards.”
Doc set his glass down and picked up the deck. After all the words that had been flying back and forth, it seemed as though he’d nearly forgotten that he was dealing. With the deck in his left hand and his fingers running along the edges, he looked up at Weeks and asked, “How many?”
“Just one.”
Caleb felt the knot cinch in tighter around his guts. Although there was nothing on the table apart from the cards, shot glasses, and a mess of money, he knew his very livelihood was sitting in that pot.
Doc’s fingers plucked a card from the deck with subtle ease. His movement was so quick that the card seemed to spring into his hand to be launched across the table. It landed neatly on top of Weeks’s other four and remained there.
Weeks tapped a finger on the card and grinned like a snake with a belly full of squirming mice.
