Authors: Marcus Galloway
Doc's arm flickered with a motion that was so quick it barely attracted any attention. His Colt cleared leather and barked once.
For a moment, Butler stood his ground and blinked in disbelief.
Soon, he had to let his own gun drop so he could brace himself against the table.
When he looked up again, Butler didn't even have the strength to let out the obscenities that were on the tip of his tongue. The soldier flopped forward and then slid from the table onto the floor.
Doc calmly looked around and holstered his gun when he saw nobody else was interested in jumping to Butler's aid. Even Jorgens merely leaned back and held both arms out to show he had no intention of making another move.
Turning over Butler's cards. Doc counted up three eights and then went to his own cards to find three kings. “I guess this is mine,” he said while gathering up his chips. “I'll need to cash out.”
“So that's the man himself, huh?” Caleb asked as he sat in one of the darker corners of the Mint.
Lottie sat beside him, wearing a dark dress that went well with what the other ladies in the place were wearing, but didn't make her stand out from them. Her hair was gathered into a simple braid and was slung over one shoulder. “That's the one,” she confirmed.
“He doesn't look like much.” Shifting his eyes to other tables scattered throughout the place, Caleb nodded to a few and said, “But they do.”
Lottie craned her neck to get a look at what he was talking about.
It was early evening, and the small floor show inside the Mint was going along at full steam. Most of the lights in the place were focused on the long, narrow stage, where a pair of singers wound their way through a row of chorus girls. Although Caleb admired more than a few of those chorus girls, his eyes were continually drawn back to the line of Lottie's dress, which was pulled down around her shoulders to expose an enticing slope of smooth, pale skin. If he looked closely enough, he could see wisps of red hair that had come loose from her braid to brush against the nape of her neck.
“Who are you talking about?” she asked.
Before it became painfully obvious that he was staring at her, Caleb moved his eyes away and subtly pointed to a couple of tables. “That one,” he said, indicating a table in the shadows to the left of the stage. “And that one,” he said, pointing to another table less than ten feet from the first.
Once she saw the men sitting at those tables, Lottie nodded. “They look like rough fellows,” she said. “But are you sure they're looking for you?”
“They're not looking at the stage,” Caleb pointed out. “Haven't even glanced at it. That, combined with the fact that their hands haven't strayed more than a few inches from their guns, tells me an awful lot.”
Turning away from the rough-looking men just as they were starting to glance in her direction, Lottie smiled and rested her chin on the back of her hand. “That's pretty good.”
“Running a saloon is a real good way to practice spotting troublemakers.”
“And I thought I had a good eye.”
“Actually, you've got two very good eyes.”
She was quiet for a moment and maintained her smile.
“Jesus Christ,” Caleb muttered. “I can't believe I just said that.”
Lottie started laughing and said, “I'll just chalk it up to you being tired.”
“And shot,” Caleb added. “Don't forget that I was shot, too.”
“Oh, that's right. That explains why you've started talking like a drunk who thinks he can get up under my skirts. Have you already forgotten why we're here?”
Just talking and laughing with Lottie was almost enough to make him forget about everything else and just enjoy the night in Denver. Forcing himself to take another look around the room, Caleb stopped when he picked out another table even farther away from the stage.
“There's another one,” he said.
Lottie seemed reluctant to take her eyes away from him, but eventually she picked out the large man sitting with his hat resting on the table in front of him. “I think he's got a shotgun on his lap.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “He's sitting too close to the table. His back's too straight and that hat is there to keep everyone else from seeing.”
“I'll take your word for it.”
“You have your experience running a saloon and I have mine running a faro table. Trust me, that's how a man sits when he's got a shotgun in his lap.”
“Either that, or he really likes the looks of those chorus girls.”
It took her a moment, but Lottie caught Caleb's joke and started laughing. “Are we just going to sit back here or are you going to that meeting?”
“I don't know. I haven't decided yet”
Caleb studied the man that Lottie had pointed out to him a few moments ago. Unlike the bulkier men who were clearly acting as lookouts or guards, the man nearer the stage might not have even been armed. He was a tall fellow who sat like a proper gentleman, with his hands folded neatly one over the other. An expensive bowler hat rested on the table in front of him. In the time since he'd arrived, the man had been watching the crowd while also sneaking a few glances at the stage. Dark hair was plastered to his scalp and a mustache crossed his upper lip as if it had been drawn there by a pencil.
“So he's the Tiger here in Denver?” Caleb asked.
“The one that I know about.”
“Judging by all these hired guns he brought with him, I'm starting to think that sitting at that table might not be such a good idea.”
“It's not going to get any better later,” she said. “Morris always travels with a pack of dogs like that. Most of the men like him in the larger stops along the circuit do. You should see the man who works in San Francisco. He's practically got his own army.”
“And would they have any problem shooting someone in plain sight?”
Lottie chewed on her lower lip and thought that over. Before she could say anything, Caleb was standing up.
“That tells me more than enough,” he said.
“And you're still heading over there?”
“It's only a matter of time before we're either spotted or someone picks us out of this crowd. I'd rather take my chances right by the stage than in a dark corner.”
“We could always leave.”
“Too late for that,” Caleb told her as he straightened the lapels of his dark brown suit jacket
As he walked between the tables around the stage, Caleb didn't even glance at the guards he passed along the way. He could feel their eyes boring into him, however, until the back of his head felt as if it were resting against a branding iron. To put on a face that was a little anxious, while also being a bit nervous, Caleb imagined he was holding a straight while going against a possible flush, and then sat down at Morris's table.
“You're late,” Morris said in a voice that reminded Caleb of a fork scraping against a porcelain plate.
“Sorry about that. I'mâ”
“I know who you are, Mr. Wayfinder. I also know that, after your performance in Fort Griffin, you're either very bold or very stupid to seek me out like this.”
“Maybe a little of both.”
Morris sat perfectly still before conceding the point with a slight nod.
“I'll be honest with you,” Caleb said. “All I want to do is work.”
“You could have done that in Fort Griffin. Instead, you and your partner decided to turn a card game into a shooting war.”
“Sometimes that happens during card games,” Caleb said with a straight face. “Especially when one of the people at the table was trying to cheat his way into stealing everyone's money.”
“It's become common knowledge that your partner isn't above such a thing, and I daresay you were in on that particular scheme as well.”
“You daresay, huh?” After letting those words hang in the air for a moment, Caleb snapped his head forward like a snake. He stopped several inches short of Morris, which was still close enough to get the tall man in the tailored suit to jump back a foot or two.
“The cheater I was talking about wasn't me and it wasn't Doc,” Caleb snarled. “It was Taylor, who I know damn well works in the same line of work as you do.”
By now, two of the guards that had been posted at other tables had made their way behind Caleb and were pulling him away from Morris. They slammed Caleb into his seat and loomed over him.
“I'd suggest you rethink your current situation,” Morris said in a voice that reeked of the sprawling cities on the opposite end of the country.
“And I'd suggest you think twice before spreading the word about who's cheating and who wasn't. You weren't there.”
After a few tense moments, Morris glanced to either side and made a quick waving gesture. The two guards stepped back far enough for the people at other tables to get back to watching the stage show.
“You're right, Mr. Wayfinder. I wasn't there. But word travels quickly in our circles. Since I and my associates control those words, you might find it difficult to get any meaningful work in any saloons of this caliber.”
“Which is exactly why I came to ask for your permission.”
“You'll need to pay your taxes,” Morris said. “Doubly so, to make up for the trouble you've caused.”
“Just let me know where to make the payments and you'll get them as soon as I start earning some money.”
“I'll find you,” Morris said. “That's how this works.”
“Fine.” Without another word, Caleb got up from his seat and headed through the crowd in the opposite direction from which he'd arrived. The fact that he could hear Morris trying to catch his attention in a grating, annoyed shout only brought a smirk to Caleb's face.
Lottie was at the bar, and Caleb passed her without so much as a nod. Instead, he kept right on going until he was out of the Mint and across the street.
From there, Caleb broke into a run and headed straight into an alley. His eyes darted back and forth so quickly that he started to get a little dizzy, but he kept up the frantic search to make sure he wasn't running into another batch of armed vultures like the ones that had descended upon him at Morris's table.
So far, Caleb only saw shadows and a few drunks sleeping against the back of another building. There was only a sliver of moon in the sky, which made the shadows that much deeper. Fortunately, Denver was alive and kicking at the late hour, and Caleb was able to circle around the building without drawing any attention.
When the Mint was once again in his sight, Caleb slowed his breathing and listened to the night around him. For a few seconds, only the pounding of his own heart filled his ears. Then, the sounds of laughter and wild music drifted toward him. That was soon followed by a familiar, grating voice.
“That man thinks he can waltz into my town and talk to me like that?” Morris griped. “He's probably too stupid to even realize how close he was to getting killed right there in that room.”
“He's got to be around here somewhere,” one of the gunmen said. “I can probably drag him back here without much trouble.”
Morris stopped and planted his feet on the boardwalk outside the Mint.
Reflexively, Caleb backed a bit farther into the shadow that wrapped around him like a cool, dark shroud.
Twisting on the balls of his feet to look over his shoulder, Morris glanced back through the saloon's front door and then turned around to face the street. “No,” he said, finally. “There's too many people.”
“So?”
“When I want someone to move against that man, I'll let you know. Now is not that time. Go back in there and make the necessary arrangements with Mr. Ward. Be sure to tell him to keep this one on a short leash or he'll find himself in a very uncomfortable position.”
The gunman nodded and walked back into the Mint, leaving Morris with only four more men to stand around him.
Morris spoke to his men as he walked away, but Caleb wasn't able to pick up any specific words. Once the procession turned a corner, Caleb crossed the street and pulled open the saloon's front door. The moment it came open, he saw Morris's gunman turn around to face him. Caleb managed to step to one side before being spotted.
The gunman walked by without giving Caleb so much as a glance.
Lottie was the next one to walk out, so Caleb took her by the elbow and led her in the opposite direction Morris had gone.
“Had enough excitement for one day?” she asked.
“You have,” Caleb replied. “Go back to your room and stay there until I get back.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just go back and wait for me.”
She let out a sigh, shook free of his grasp, and walked down the street. “Just try not to get in front of any more bullets.”
“I'll do my best.”