Bucking the Tiger (10 page)

“So, am I to presume you're this Tiger we've all heard about?” Doc asked as if there weren't currently several gun barrels pointed in his direction.

“I'm a representative,” Taylor replied. “Just like Boyer was before me.”

“Whatever happened to him?” Doc queried.

Taylor shook his head slowly. “Don't make this into a joke, Holliday. I assure you, none of us think it's funny.”

“So what's going on here?” Caleb asked. When he started to scoot back from the table, two of the gunmen shifted their aim toward him and cocked their hammers back as a none-too-subtle warning. Staying where he was and keeping his hands in sight, Caleb said, “I thought all you people wanted was a percentage.”

“We do,” Taylor replied. “And we still haven't gotten it yet. At least, not from you and Dr. Holliday here.”

“The game's not over yet” Doc said in a steady voice.

As a few of his men started getting restless around him, Taylor nodded and waved for them to settle back down again. “If you want to pay your tax, betting everything you own on a hand of poker isn't the smartest way to go about it.”

“Betting is how fortunes are made,” Doc said.

“You want to play through this hand?”

“Isn't that why we're here?”

“Yes. It is.” After taking a bit to think it over, Taylor shrugged. “All right, then. But if you lose, I'll still expect our tax. In fact, I'll need interest seeing as how it's late and all.”

“That's bullshit,” Caleb snarled as he jumped up from his seat. Even the sound of those other two gunmen jumping to their feet and stepping up to surround him wasn't enough to back Caleb down. “All of this is bullshit. What happens when the law takes a look at you assholes? Will you have enough taxes to pay off every one of them?”

“Give it a try,” Taylor said. “Who do you think is keeping the law from checking on every last one of the decks that are used in these saloons? Or from taking a good, long look at the faro games being run by you people? The law gets a good deal out of this because they don't want to waste their time policing dregs and vagrants like the lot of you. With the exception of Miss Deno, of course.”

Suddenly, Mike pushed back from his own spot while drawing a pistol that had been tucked under his belt. The moment his gun came into view, a shot from one of Taylor's gunmen blasted through the saloon and knocked Mike off his feet. He landed with a pained grunt, but still struggled to get up.

The same gunman who'd fired that shot was also the one to come rushing up to snatch the pistol from Mike's hand. He turned that pistol along with his own weapon back around so both guns were pointed in Mike's face.

When he tried to prop himself up, Mike winced and flopped down again. He grabbed at the source of pain, which was a fresh, bloody gash in his shoulder. Just one touch was enough for him to feel the gristle of exposed bone beneath the flesh that had been shredded by the passing bullet.

“Jesus,” Mike gasped as he went pale and lay down.

Ignoring the guns being waved around, Lottie got up and rushed over to Mike. “Hold on,” she said. “It looks a lot worse than it is. We'll fetch a doctor for you.”

“Nobody's fetching anyone,” Taylor said. With a nod over one shoulder, he motioned for one of his gunmen to stand by the front door and prevent anyone from passing through. There were a few folks trying to get a look inside after the shot had been fired, but their curiosity wasn't great enough to overcome the murderous intent in the gunman's eyes.

Doc looked down at Mike and asked, “You feeling all right?”

Mike nodded weakly and pulled in a breath. A bit of the color was returning to his cheeks, but he'd since broken into a sweat.

“Get something to hold against that wound,” Doc said. “Help yourself to some of this, Mike,” he added while handing down his flask. “It'll hold you over just fine until we can get that looked at.”

“Things will get a whole lot worse if you two keep insisting on going against the grain,” Taylor said.

“If you want to shoot this place up, then we can do that,” Doc said. “But I thought we were going to play through this hand.”

This time, Taylor didn't even try to keep the smirk from his face. In fact, he even chuckled a bit as he nodded slowly. “You're a tough man to figure out, Doc. Just when I think you're acting more drunk than you are, you go and start talking like a damned fool again. You want to see the cards? Fine. Since I'm bound to get all of this anyway, I might as well go through the motions.”

Doc eased his flask into the inner pocket of his jacket.

When Taylor turned over his cards, he revealed a whole lot of red. “Flush,” he declared. “I know there are bigger hands out there, but I also know this one's bigger than yours.”

Every eye shifted toward Doc. Some of those eyes were narrowed in suspicion and others were tainted by mean-spirited smiles. Others, like the ones belonging to Lottie, Mike, and Caleb, were anxious. None of them were hopeful.

“I wouldn't speak so quickly,” Doc said as he placed his cards on the table while keeping his hand over them. “But remember that we're all gentlemen here. Please, no swearing in front of the ladies.”

With that, Doc removed his hand and cleared his throat.

Initially, Taylor hardly even spared a glance toward Doc's cards. Suddenly, however, the smugness on his face evaporated. “Wait a second,” he said as he jumped to his feet and leaned forward with both hands on the table. Like a vulture gazing down at a stretch of desert floor, Taylor eyed Doc's cards before reaching out to spread them a bit farther apart.

“This isn't right,” Taylor muttered. “I know it isn't.”

Doc's cards were all clubs. Although they were a bit lower than the ones Taylor had shown, they were in order.

“Straight flush,” Doc said. “This will be of some use to me,” he added while taking hold of the knife by its handle. “There are some letters waiting for me in Denison that need to be opened.”

Caleb couldn't help but laugh at that. The feeling passed, however, as he saw the gunmen creeping in on them from all sides.

“This can't be right,” Taylor said. “Those aren't the cards I dealt to you.”

Putting on a confused and somewhat hurt expression, Doc asked, “Are you saying that you cheated? How deceitful. And to think this was just a friendly—”

Taylor's hand leapt from the table and drew his pistol in the space of a heartbeat. Before he could take aim, he was staring down the barrel of Doc's gun. With wide eyes, Taylor shouted, “Somebody shoot this skinny son of a bitch!”

Upon hearing that, Caleb grabbed the closest thing he could find, which just so happened to be the glass that he'd been drinking from all night. Some beer sprayed through the air as the glass flew, but that was quickly joined by a bloody mist as the glass slammed into the face of the closest gunman.

As the man that had been standing over Mike turned to fire at Doc, he saw a sudden burst of motion from Lottie. The redhead yelped in surprise as she was pulled down by Mike, who then stuck his hand in her skirt.

“Pardon me, Lottie,” Mike said as he found her derringer, aimed it at the gunman standing over him, and pulled the trigger.

The derringer didn't let off much more than a pop as it sent a bullet through the gunman's rib cage. The gunman crumpled over and twisted to bring his pistol to bear on Mike. The derringer popped again. This time, the little gun punched a hole through the gunman's head and dropped him into a dead heap on the floor.

Lottie was still gasping in surprise when her gun was handed back. The moment she felt the familiar iron in her grasp, she fished in another pocket for two fresh rounds.

Caleb took one step toward the man with the shattered glass on his face, planted his foot, and then brought his other knee up to bury it deep into the gunman's stomach. That doubled the man over, allowing blood from his nose to drip onto the floor, accompanied by the spatter of glass shards hitting the wooden slats.

One look toward the door allowed Caleb to see the gunman guarding the entrance point his weapon toward the card table. Caleb dropped reflexively as the gun went off. Lead hissed over his head and buried itself loudly into the table behind him.

“Goddamn!” Donnelly shouted as he stomped in from one of the back rooms. “What the hell's going on here?”

He was answered by random shouting as a few of the real customers tried to get out of there, only to stop short when they noticed the guard at the door. A few of the working girls had been watching the whole thing and went over to report what they'd seen to Donnelly.

“You made a big fucking mistake, Holliday,” Taylor snarled.

Cocking his head slightly, Doc flipped the knife he'd been holding so he could grip it by the blade rather than the handle. “Did I?” he quipped, before snapping his wrist and sending the blade right into its owner.

Taylor reflexively grabbed for the knife protruding from his upper torso. The moment his hand found the weapon, he winced in pain and practically threw himself to the floor.

Doc took advantage of the show by getting to his feet and drawing his pistol. Before he could take a shot, the room filled with a thunder that could only have come from a shotgun. Everyone in the saloon either turned or dropped to the floor. The members of that former group were able to see Donnelly stepping forward with the smoking shotgun in his hands.

“The law's on their way!” the saloon owner shouted.

That was all that needed to be said to get the remaining gunmen as well as the gamblers up and moving.

Doc held his Colt in one hand while offering his other to Mike so he could bring the gambler up off the floor.

“You just signed your own death warrant, Holliday,” Taylor grunted.

“That was done long before I ever laid eyes on you,” Doc replied.

“Nobody draws a gun on us. You're finished! You better pray you die of that sickness, because it'll be a walk through the roses compared to what's in store for you.”

Doc gritted his teeth as his finger tightened around the trigger. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he spotted someone coming at him like a charging bull.

The fourth gunman took one step and extended his arm to point his gun at the side of Doc's head. Just as the gunman was about to pull his trigger, he heard a shot and felt a burning pain flood through his chest. When he looked down, he saw blood soaking into the front of his shirt.

Doc stood in the spot where he'd been before, only one of his hands was extended beneath the other. In that hand, Doc held his second pistol. It was still smoking from the bullet it had just delivered.

As Taylor staggered toward the door, he pulled the knife from his body and let out the snarl of a wounded animal as the blade slipped from between his fingers. He spotted Caleb rushing toward him, but was too weak and disoriented to think of anything to do about it. Fortunately for him, the gunman Taylor had posted at the door had already lined up a shot of his own.

The shot cracked through the air, adding to the smoke that hung in the room like an acrid fog. The bullet drilled into Caleb's back and dropped him to one knee.

As Caleb's vision started to fade, he felt Taylor shove him down and then watched as the man in the dark blue suit and his remaining guards headed out the door.

When Caleb woke up, he was surrounded by feathery pillows that were thicker than his head. Soft, downy comforters were wrapped around him and the smell of lilacs filled the air. As he shifted, he felt his legs and back rubbing against what he guessed to be satin or silk.

“Am I…in…?” he asked groggily.

“Not quite heaven, but you're close,” Doc said from somewhere that was nearby but out of sight. “You're in Lottie's bedroom.”

Caleb opened his eyes and tried to sit up. Any thoughts of a glorious afterlife were erased when he felt pain lance all the way from his shoulder blades to the front of his chest. “Jesus!” he grunted as he dropped back down again. He felt another stab of pain as he hit, and he clutched two fistfuls of sheets until the pain died down a bit.

As something cool was pressed to his forehead, Caleb heard another voice. This one was also familiar and matched his surroundings much more than the scratchy drawl that had come before it.

“Sit still, Caleb,” Lottie said. “The doctor said you shouldn't move unless it's absolutely necessary.”

“It is necessary,” Caleb groaned. “My mouth feels like baked leather.”

“I don't exactly know what that means, but I bet you're thirsty.”

“That's exactly what it means,” Caleb said. As the pain faded a little more, he soon felt another cold touch against his skin. A tin cup was being placed in his hand and he took it gratefully. The first sip of water hurt like hell, but the second was a blessing. After that, he felt as if he'd never be able to drink enough.

When he finally came up for air, Caleb rubbed his eyes and took another look around. “How long have I been here?”

“Two weeks,” Doc said.

Almost immediately, Lottie backhanded Doc's shoulder and said, “It's just been over two days.”

Doc moved around to the opposite side of Caleb's bed and said, “I bet that makes you feel better, doesn't it? You see? It's all a matter of perspective.”

Although he meant to laugh, Caleb let out something that was more like a grunt that had been forced up from the bottom of his gut. “Can I have some more water?”

“Sure,” Lottie said. “I'll go get it.”

After watching her leave the room, Caleb shifted so he could get a look at Doc. The slender Georgian was sitting on a small padded chair against the wall. The room had a soft glow to it, thanks to the tinted lantern covers, the dark color of the furnishings, and the expensive carpet on the floor. There were a few tables set up here and there, each of which had flowers set on it in a different size of vase.

Doc sat in his chair with one arm draped over the back. Once Lottie was well out of earshot, he said, “I think she's sweet on you.”

“Too bad I had to get stabbed to bring that out of her.”

“Shot,” Doc corrected. “You were shot.”

Pressing his palms against his eyes, Caleb took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It hurt, but not as much as when he'd tried to sit up a few moments ago. “Oh…yeah.” Suddenly, all the memories snapped back into focus, and Caleb tried to get out of bed one more time. “What happened after I was shot? Where's Taylor?”

“He had more men waiting outside. Since nobody else but me and Owen were in any condition to chase after him, it seemed prudent to let him go. I must give him a bit of credit, though. He was man enough to leave his money behind.”

“After all that, you still figure on getting out of that game a winner.”

“And why not? I earned it.”

“Earned it? You cheated, Doc. We cheated. If that kind of thing had happened in my saloon, I would have chased us out of there and run us out of town.”

“That's why a professional must know how to keep his moves quick and quiet. You did a fine job. Actually, we all did.”

Caleb opened his eyes and saw Doc truly basking in the moment.

When he saw he was being watched, Doc shrugged and said, “It could have been a whole lot worse, you know. None of us wound up dead.”

“Close,” Caleb grunted.

“Close only counts in horseshoes, and it sure as hell doesn't count in poker.”

“I don't even think I'm remembering how that last hand went.”

“Beautifully.” Doc beamed. “It was absolutely beautiful.”

“The way I recall, I had two of the cards you wound up showing before all the shooting started.”

“You did have those cards. And, thanks to Mike putting the deadwood pile closer to me, you tossed those cards my way when you folded.”

“I thought that part was a little obvious,” Lottie said as she came back into the room with Caleb's water. “But it went over pretty well. Taylor must have been fixing the deal, so he knew who was getting what cards. I'm amazed he left that much to chance.”

“You're not a card mechanic, are you?” Doc asked.

Lottie shrugged. “It's not one of my strengths. At least, not in poker.”

“It's hard enough to deal the cards you want to one or even two people, but dealing them to everyone at the table either requires a deck that you've already stacked or cards that have been rigged some other way. He dealt his own cards and my cards. The rest were just random trash.”

“So I just happened to get the cards you needed?” Caleb asked.

Grinning, Doc said, “That's right. I did mention that I had to wait the better part of a day for those pieces to come together. You showed them to me perfectly, by the way.”

Lottie looked down at Caleb and asked, “You showed Doc your cards?”

“We've been practicing.”

“Very nice,” she said with genuine admiration. “Still, it was a risky play.”

Doc waved that off with one hand. “It was everyone working together. Mike shifted the discard pile, Caleb fed me the cards, and you distracted Taylor so he wouldn't see any of it coming. I don't see why everyone's so surprised. After all, we were going into this as a team. Despite a few injuries, we all came out of it fairly well. Which reminds me…”

As Doc's voice trailed off, he fished two bundles of money from inside his jacket. “Donnelly was kind enough to cash me out even after all the commotion. We had to pay for the damage to his place, but all of us came out ahead.”

Caleb took his money even though it hurt to move. Lottie, on the other hand, looked down at the cash as if it were a snake coiled in Doc's hand.

“What's the matter?” Doc asked.

Letting out a sigh, Lottie replied, “I shouldn't take that money.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm the one who brought Taylor to that game. Because of me, two men are dead, Mike and Caleb were hurt, and the rest of us could have been killed as well.”

“First of all,” Doc said, “we all take a certain amount of risk when we do a job like this. It's what makes the payoff that much sweeter. Secondly, you bringing Taylor to that game is what resulted in us getting his money.”

“And third,” Caleb added, “the men that were killed were working for Taylor.”

Doc nodded. “And, if I may add, they were trying their damnedest to kill us at the time. Don't forget that.”

When she looked at Caleb, Lottie got a nod in return. That was enough for her to reach out to take the money Doc was offering. When she tried to take that money from Doc, however, she wasn't able to pry it from his grasp.

Staring her dead in the eyes, Doc asked, “Did you know Taylor was connected to the Tiger?”

“No,” she said. “I didn't. All I knew was that he was rich and looking for a game of high-stakes poker. Boyer's always been the man to collect the taxes around here.”

“Did you look into who he was at all?”

“A bit, but I should have looked a whole lot deeper. That's why I was going to refuse this money.”

After chewing on that for a while, Doc slowly started to nod. He let go of the money and put a smile on his face. “Consider this a lesson learned…for all of us.”

“Yeah, Doc,” Caleb grunted. “You start learning to drive people crazy and I'll start learning how to dodge bullets.”

“I'm already doing just fine in that regard,” Doc said.

“Yes,” Lottie said as she tucked her money away and patted Doc on the cheek, “you most certainly are. Take all the time you need here, Caleb. I've got some errands to run. Will you be at your faro table tonight, Doc?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good. There are some players coming in from Denver and they're looking for a game. Since I'll be occupied tonight, I'll steer them your way.”

“Much appreciated.”

Lottie stepped over to Caleb and leaned down so she could kiss him on the forehead. After pausing to look into his eyes for a moment, she leaned down again so she could place a distinctly less nurturing kiss on his lips. Before backing away, she drew Caleb's bottom lip into her mouth and gave it a quick nibble. “Feel better soon,” she said. “I want you able to move around again.”

Unable to hide the stunned expression on his face, Caleb said, “Yes, ma'am.”

Lottie turned on her heel and headed for the door with a bounce in her step that held a special spot in every man's dreams. Doc was still looking in that direction when Caleb let out the breath he'd been holding.

“Now, that's what I call a good person to have on our side,” Caleb said.

“Indeed, she would be. Except for one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Remember what she said about not knowing who Taylor was?” Doc asked.

“Yeah.”

“She was lying.”