The Accomplice (20 page)

“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.”

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.”

“Fine.” Before Caleb said another word, the relief bartender was already stepping up to his spot. It was a little too early for the night rush to start, so Caleb decided to get this meeting over with. Besides, paying a visit to Champagne Charlie was never much of a chore.

Caleb made his way to the St. Charles and looked around. It was just as busy in there as it was in the Flush, which put a proud smile on his face. “Is Charlie around?” Caleb asked the hulking man in the clean white shirt working the front door.

The bouncer stood a whole head taller than Caleb and looked down as if he meant to squash him under his heel. After a moment, the giant shook his head.

“Well, I’m supposed to meet him. You know when I can come back?”

Rather than answer that question directly, the giant lifted his arm and pointed toward the back of the room. When Caleb turned to look in that direction, he spotted a man at one of the card tables waving him over.

Caleb walked across the room and stood behind the single empty seat at the table. The man who’d waved him over wore a black vest over a white shirt, which was practically the uniform of a professional gambler. His bald head appeared to have been recently polished, and the pencil-thin mustache was impeccably groomed. Compared to him, the other men at the table looked like common riffraff.

“Take a seat, Mr. Wayfinder,” the man said.

“I’m to meet Champagne Charlie,” Caleb replied curtly.

“I’m Charlie’s partner. The name’s Bret Weeks. Since I’m the one who sent for you, why don’t you join me in our game?”

Caleb studied everyone at the table and quickly found that all the other men were wearing guns. “How about you say your piece so I can get back to my own business?”

“Fair enough. Sit down.”

When it became clear that Caleb had no intention of sandwiching himself in between the others at the table, Weeks flicked his hand a few times to shoo them away. The gunmen got up and quickly found somewhere else to be. From there, Weeks extended that same hand to the empty seats.

Unable to decide whether or not he felt safer having the other men out of sight, Caleb took a seat opposite Weeks. He would have simply left if not for the questions nagging at the back of his mind.

“So you’re the silent partner I’ve heard about,” Caleb said. “Would you also be the one backing that humpback and his idiot cousin before those two killed each other?”

Weeks smirked but made no other move. “I’m a businessman, much like yourself. In fact, it seems that you’ve been doing pretty well for yourself with that little place of yours.”