The Accomplice (5 page)

Mike didn’t seem to notice that nearly everyone else in the saloon had gotten back to their own business. Assuming he was the center of attention, he glanced around from one side to another, nodded and smiled to an audience that he didn’t even have.

As much as he wanted to do otherwise, Caleb let Mike pass. The words that had passed between them still burned inside his ears.

Stopping once he got up to the gambler’s table, Mike pulled out a chair and dropped himself into it. He kept his eyes glued to the well-dressed man as he reached into his pocket and removed a wad of folded money. “Here’s my stake,” he said with a snarl. “Think you can match it?”

So far, the gambler’s face hadn’t gone through more than half a change, which took it from casual blankness to amused blankness. Without breaking Mike’s stare, he let his hand wander over the stack of chips in front of him. A few glances toward Mike’s cash were all he needed before the gambler measured out the proper amount of chips and shoved them forward. It was about a quarter of his total.

“That ought to do it,” the gambler said.

Mike’s eyes flicked back and forth between his cash and all of the gambler’s chips. Seeing the difference between the two was enough to wipe away some of his previous smugness, but not all of it. Finally, Mike stopped acting like he was on display.

“Just because we’re playing against each other,” the gambler said, “doesn’t make us enemies.”

“The hell it don’t. I plan on soaking you for all you got. If I do win, you’ll give me back what you cheated off me before. That’s the deal, and you better have enough to honor it.”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. Oh, and one more thing.” Mike lowered his voice to a deadly serious tone. That intensity cut through all of his previous swagger the way flames cut through a wall of smoke. “If’n I catch you cheating,” he said, motioning toward the gun at his hip, “I’ll burn you down right here in front of God and everybody. You hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you,” came a voice that didn’t belong to Mike or any of the other players at that table. “Come to think of it, I’d say this whole saloon heard you. That is, of course, if anyone were actually listening.”

Mike’s brow furrowed, and he twisted around to get a look at who’d just spoken. There wasn’t anyone standing behind him or on either side. Caleb was still glaring at him from near the bar, but it hadn’t been his voice. Then Mike spotted another face that matched the voice and was looking right back at him.

It was a pale, gaunt face wearing a smile that would have been more comfortable on a skull rather than any living man’s head.

“Who the hell invited you to this game, Holliday?”

Caleb’s eyes snapped open wide, and he didn’t even bother to hide the surprised confusion that had showed up on his face. Sure enough, after a bit of sidestepping and craning his neck, Caleb was able to spot the dentist sitting at a table next to the one that he’d been watching this whole time. Holliday’s cold blue eyes shifted in their sunken sockets as if to say hello.

Ignoring Mike’s question, Holliday glanced over to the gambler dressed in the black suit. “Evenin’, Virgil.”

Holliday’s drawl seemed especially thick at the moment. It was almost as if his voice had become as relaxed as the rest of him, which was currently lounging in a straightbacked chair as though it was a throne.

Dressed in his dark suit and sitting behind a healthy stack of chips, Virgil Ellis nodded politely at the dentist. “Evening, Doc. I was wondering if you were going to join us.”

Feeling like the odd man out, Caleb wheeled around to get a look at Hank. “How long’s he been there?” he asked, pointing out Holliday to the bartender.

Hank shrugged and shook his head.

Having already gotten up from his seat, Holliday stepped over to Virgil’s table. “I thought I’d warm up until the real action got here,” he said, smirking toward Mike.

Although Mike certainly wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, he knew well enough when he was being ridiculed. “Damn right the real action’s here,” Mike huffed, doing a piss-poor job of maintaining his bravado. “Now how about you just go off and hack up a lung somewhere else?”

Holliday’s chest twitched with a suppressed cough. His face, however, showed no visible reaction. He was wearing clothes that were just as dark, if not quite as expensive, as Virgil’s. With one hand, he reached under his jacket in a way that gave the men at the table a glimpse at the holster strapped around his shoulders.

Mike’s hand twitched toward his gun, but not close enough to set anyone off. His eyes widened in nervous anticipation as he asked, “What the hell are you doing, Holliday?”

After a slight pause, the dentist eased his hand out from under his jacket. He was holding a leather pouch, leaving the pistol holstered under his arm. He hefted the pouch in his hand, allowing the clink of money from within to be heard. With a flourish, he tossed the pouch onto the middle of the table. Silver dollars spilled from it. Even the glitter of some gold could be seen within the leather container.

“I’ve got no objections to him sitting in,” Virgil said.

Still nervous, Mike clenched his jaw and looked around at the others seated at the table. When he didn’t get any support from the rest of the gamblers, he looked down to the money Holliday had offered. Mike let out a breath and licked his lips before finally forcing himself to relax. “Fine by me. I don’t mind winning this one’s money along with everyone else’s.”

“That’s the spirit,” Holliday said as he took a seat at the table. A few of the other players had to scoot to one side, but they let him have his spot between Virgil and Mike. “A positive attitude does wonders in poker. That is, if we are playing poker?”

Virgil nodded. “What else is there?”

“Poker’s a man’s game,” Mike grunted. “I don’t play nothing else.”

“Even with the double negative, I agree wholeheartedly,” Holliday said.

Mike’s nostrils flared. “You got a smart mouth, you skinny little rat. Guess that’s why you need to be heeled at a friendly game.”

“Oh, this?” Holliday’s hand drifted toward his gun, but only to tap the handle lovingly. “This is my good luck charm. And by the way, you can call me Doc.”

“Yeah, I know all about you. I seen you play a few games not too long ago.” Leaning forward until his belly tilted his side of the table, Mike added, “I guess since you ain’t lucky in nothing else, you’re bound to get lucky at cards every now and then.” Mike leaned back and shrugged. “Odds are damn good that you’ll keel over before the night’s out anyhow.”

If Doc was rattled by anything that had come from Mike’s mouth, he gave no indication. Instead, he merely nodded and signaled toward the bar for a drink. “All right then. Let’s play some cards.”

In the time it took a round of drinks to arrive at the table and for money to be traded for chips, the occupants of the chairs had done a bit of shuffling. While the three principal players of the game stayed where they were, some of the others who’d been gambling either moved to another spot or cashed themselves out altogether.

The ones who left did so with a cordial word and tip of their hat, scooping up whatever money they had and leaving as quickly as they could. That left two others besides Virgil, Mike, and Doc at the table. One of those was a young cowboy who still had fresh dust in his hair and the other was Orville, the old miner who practically lived at the Busted Flush. Going by the look on Orville’s face, he wasn’t about to miss one second of the game, no matter how many guns were present.

Virgil played the part of gracious host, engaging in small talk with anyone who cared to return the favor while rolling a silver dollar back and forth over his knuckles.

Doc quickly suppressed a coughing fit before removing the handkerchief from his breast pocket. While he did exchange a few pleasantries with Virgil, he seemed to be more concerned with getting his flask refilled and then sampling the whiskey brought to him in a separate glass. Once a few sips of liquor were in his system, the dentist eased back into his chair and got comfortable. His eyes had taken on a grayer hue and somehow seemed clearer than before he’d had his drinks.

Mike sat on the edge of his chair with his hands folded upon the table. His eyes snapped back and forth between Virgil and Doc while he nervously licked his lips. When the drinks came, he pounded back a swig of whiskey before slapping down the empty glass and refilling it. “If all I wanted was a drink, I’d be standin’ at the bar,” he grunted.

“Hear, hear,” Doc said, tapping his own glass against the table. “Since it doesn’t look like anyone else wants to join us, let’s get this show under way.”

Caleb stepped up and delivered a fresh deck of cards to the table. He spread them out and made sure everyone had a chance to count them before giving them a shuffle and stepping back. Although some players got a little impatient having to wait through that little ritual, Caleb found that enough fights were avoided that way to make it worth everyone’s while.

“Care to do the honors?” Doc asked while glancing toward Mike.

Mike’s lips curled a bit, but when he saw that Doc was pointing toward the deck of cards, he quickly brightened up. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said while reaching out to snatch the cards and deal them out. One at a time, he flipped five cards to each person at the table.

Doc accepted his cards as though he was already disappointed, picking them up and searching through them one by one. “So many choices,” he said.

The old miner beside Doc fanned out his cards and shook his head. “Wish I had that problem.”

Going by Virgil’s expression, he might as well have been looking at empty space.

The cowboy’s frown grew with every card he saw. When he’d managed to get a look at all of them, the twitch at the corner of his mouth was enough to alert anyone watching that he was less than happy with what he saw.

Mike smirked a bit when he saw his first two cards but lost his enthusiasm when he saw the other three.

Although he wasn’t making a big show of it, Doc watched everything everyone else was doing. He let his eyes stay on Mike, however, as he shook his head and said, “Two high cards but no pair? I hate when that happens.”

“What’d you do, Holliday? Mark these cards? You workin’ with that Injun saloon owner?”

“He doesn’t have to be working with anyone,” Virgil said. “Not so long as you’re willing to air out your business for everyone to see. Why don’t you just save a step and hold your cards the other way around?”

Before Mike could say another word, he was distracted by the sound of laughter coming from his right. When he looked over, he found the cowboy snickering while trying to keep his eyes on his cards.

“You think that’s funny?”

Saving the cowboy from having to dig himself out of a hole, Doc tossed in a chip and was immediately raised by the miner next to him.

“Got a hold of a hand, Orville?” Doc asked.

The miner shrugged, seeming to get a kick out of Doc’s banter while also trying not to respond to it. Apparently, Holliday saw something in the other man’s demeanor, since he nodded to himself and watched as the others tossed in enough to match the bet.

“I suppose I’ll call,” Doc sighed. “I’ll also take two more cards.” He flipped his discards over to Mike and sipped his whiskey.

Following suit, the miner grunted, “Three for me.”

“I’ll take the same,” said Virgil.

After suppressing the rest of his laughter, the cowboy flipped away two of his cards and waited for the replacements.

“Dealer takes two,” Mike said, stressing the last word and glaring over at Doc.

The dentist shrugged without even looking over to Mike. “No need to keep hold of that third card on my account.”

Doc hardly even looked at his two new cards before reaching for his chips and tossing a handful into the pot.

“Ten dollars?” the cowboy asked.

The miner was the one to respond first. “I’ll cover that.” “Me, too,” Virgil said. “And another five just to make it interesting.” Both he and Doc looked over to the cowboy.

The cowboy pulled in a breath and took a look at his cards. Although the first one met with his satisfaction, the final one caused his face to drop almost to the floor. “Aw hell. I fold.”

Mike’s expression was smug, and his grin was about as convincing as a wooden nickel. “I’ll see the bet . . . and raise it twenty.”

Doc made a show out of studying the pile of chips at the center of the table. Every so often, he would check the cards in his hand and then lay them facedown in front of him before taking another pull from his whiskey.

“Come on, Holliday,” Mike said impatiently. “You in or out?”

Finally, after fretting a little while longer, Doc asked, “So that’s sixty to me?”

Mike looked confused and added the numbers in his head one more time.

Before Mike’s arithmetic was complete, Virgil laughed and said, “Not quite, Doc.”

“Oh,” Holliday replied. “Then that’ll be sixty to you,” he said to the miner while shoving in the proper amount of chips.

The old man sifted through his cards, weighed the options in his mind and then let out a pained grunt. “The missus will kill me, but I can’t lay these beauties down just yet.” He matched the bet and looked over to Virgil. “Besides,” he said while tapping some papers folded in his shirt pocket, “I got enough collateral to have some fun tonight.”

The gambler leaned back in his chair and studied his opponents one at a time. His left hand lay on the table, rolling the silver dollar across his knuckles while he took his time deliberating. All around him, the air was filled with voices, smoke, and some music that was being played by a man with a banjo over in one corner.

Caleb watched the scene as well. While he wasn’t involved with the game, he was ready to step in if the need arose. So far, it seemed as though it was the gambler’s show, and he was handling it like a professional.