Bucking the Tiger (2 page)

Caleb knew exactly how she felt.

The last time Caleb had been inside the Busted Flush, it was a clean little saloon with a few gambling tables and a good supply of whiskey. Although the same bar was in the same spot, nearly everything else about the saloon had changed. There were more people drinking, more people gambling, and even a better stage set up at the back of the main room. Caleb stood rooted to his spot for a good few minutes before he finally caught sight of a familiar face,

“Is that you, Thirsty?” Caleb asked as he walked over to a middle-aged man propped up against the end of the bar.

For a moment, Thirsty stared blankly at Caleb. He then smiled widely enough to show a mouthful of yellowed teeth. “Hey Caleb! Where the hell've you been?”

“West Texas mostly.”

“That's not what I heard,” said another familiar voice.

Caleb turned and immediately found a man behind the bar smiling right back at him. It hadn't been too long since Caleb last saw Hank, but the portly man seemed a bit older than he would have expected. Even so, Hank had a wide smile and plenty of strength in his handshake.

“Good to see you, Caleb! I wasn't sure if you'd be back after handing over the reins to this place.”

“Are you kidding? I needed to make sure you didn't run it into the ground.”

“I would never do that. I've been trying to make certain everything—”

“Relax, Hank,” Caleb said. “I was joking. The place looks great. Just great. When I left, there was just ol' Jed playing banjo in the corner. Now there's a stage and everything. Where are the dancing girls?”

“They don't come on for a few hours. The late show is the most popular.”

“I just bet it is.” Caleb turned and leaned against the bar. When he settled one hand on the polished wooden edge, he bumped against a fresh glass of beer.

“On the house,” Hank said.

Caleb took the beer, tipped it in a quick toast, and drank it down. The fact that it tasted better than he could ever have brewed it didn't settle so well for some reason.

“I changed the recipe a bit,” Hank explained. “Hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all. Seems like you're doing real well for yourself.”

“Speaking of that,” Hank said as he reached under the bar, “I've been keeping this aside for you.” When he brought his hand up again, it was wrapped around a fairly healthy stack of money. “You haven't been around to collect in a while, so I've been saving it up.”

Squinting down at the money, Caleb asked, “What is that?”

Hank blinked and waited as if he expected Caleb to retract the question. “Your percentage. We are still partners, aren't we?”

“You own this place. You run it now.”

“But you and I built it. I thought you were just letting me take charge while you were away.”

“The Flush is yours now,” Caleb said grudgingly. “There's no arguing that.”

“If you want to come back and take over, you're welcome to it. It's just that…”

“Just what?” Caleb snapped. “Just that you already smoothed it over without me and are doing just fine on your own?”

While Hank may have looked a bit hesitant at first, he now straightened up and furrowed his brow into a firm scowl. “I was gonna say that I thought you were doing fine tearing from town to town with your partner Doc Holliday.”

“Is that what you've heard?”

Shaking his head, Hank said, “It's what I know. Saloon owners hear all the gossip, Caleb. You know that. We also know how to separate the bullshit from the truth, and I've heard more than enough to know that you've been having yourself quite a time since you left Dallas. I heard you won more than enough to buy this saloon outright in a game just a month or two ago.”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Hank said as he allowed his smile to return. “I sure as hell did. And you know how I knew it was the truth? I knew it because you were miserable as hell in that office and happy as a pig in shit when you were sitting behind a stack of poker chips. All in all, I imagined you were doing pretty well for yourself. If not, say the word, roll up your sleeves, and get to work right now. Things should really be picking up once the show starts and the night's big game gets started.”

Hank kept his eye on Caleb for a few seconds and then started laughing. “You've already been a gambler for too long, boy. The thought of an honest night's work gives you the shivers.”

“If you think gambling isn't work, you don't know the half of it.”

“It may be work, but it's what you'd rather be doing.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that's what you are doing,” Hank said simply. “Folks do what they want to do, no matter how much they grouse about it. You got up the gumption to strike out on your own and I admire you for it. This was your place, so you're entitled to a percentage of the profits. It's a great arrangement if you'd take a second to look at it”

“I have looked,” Caleb grunted. “I just didn't expect everything to work so well once I left.”

Hank grinned and pushed the money farther away from his side of the bar. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No you're not,” Caleb said as he took the money and stuffed it into his pocket. “And there's no reason you should be.”

“You know what would make you feel better?”

“I'm sure you'll tell me.”

“Pay a visit to Sarah. She talks about you every time she comes by here.”

“Does she still work at the Alhambra?” Caleb asked.

“Sure does. And she's just as pretty as ever.”

“Subtle,” Caleb said under his breath. “Real subtle.”

Compared to the Busted Flush, the Alhambra was an elegant palace of a saloon. Actually, that was only fair when comparing it to the Busted Flush that Caleb had known before he'd left. Unlike the Flush, the Alhambra hadn't changed much since the last time Caleb had been there. The only thing that wasn't the same was the fact that Sarah was no longer running drinks back and forth from the bar and its customers.

Caleb knocked on the door marked “Private” and waited until he heard a hurried voice from the other side tell him to come in. After pushing the door open, he stood there and took a long look at the woman sitting behind a large oak desk.

She slammed a ledger shut, tossed a pencil down, and got up from her chair before even looking to see who was standing there. The moment she did take a second to check, she smiled and practically jumped over the desk to get into Caleb's arms.

“Good to see you, too, Sarah,” Caleb said as he gave the blonde a squeeze.

“How long have you been back?” she asked.

“Not long at all.” He held her at arm's length so he could take a good look at her.

The blonde was more than a foot shorter than Caleb, but she had no trouble standing up to him. Her chin was always held high, and there was always a spark in her eyes that only grew brighter when Caleb was around. This time, however, that spark seemed to dwindle a bit after just a few seconds.

“How long were you going to keep me waiting before coming here?” she asked.

“At least a week, but Hank twisted my arm.”

She scowled and swatted his shoulder. “That's no way to talk! Without me, you never would have gotten that saloon off the ground.”

“I know it. That's why I wanted to come by and thank you for what you've done.”

“What are you talking about?” Sarah asked.

“I've been to the Flush. There's a stage, dancers, and I even smelled food cooking somewhere amid all that cigar smoke. Those were all your ideas.”

She shrugged and stepped back until she was able to lean against the corner of her desk. “Hank does a fine job on his own. In case you haven't noticed, I've got my hands full right here.”

Caleb walked forward slowly, until he was less than a foot in front of her. Reaching out to place his hands against the desk on either side of her, he whispered, “Thanks for doing your part.”

Averting her eyes and smirking, she made no effort to put any more distance between herself and Caleb. “My pleasure. So what brings you back to Dallas? Considering how you were run out of here the last time, I didn't know if you'd be back at all.”

“I wasn't run out. This place just became more trouble than it was worth.”

“That's right. Speaking of trouble, how did Dr. Holliday's trial turn out?”

“Ten-dollar fine. That's it.”

“If he sticks around you for much longer, he should be expecting a lot more trouble than that.”

Turning so he could sit on the desk next to Sarah, Caleb laughed and asked, “So I'm a bad influence now?”

“You and I both know Doc ran a crooked game when he dealt faro at the Flush.”

“There's plenty of cheaters making the rounds, Sarah. You know that.”

“Bucking the tiger is hard enough. You can't tell me that you didn't know those odds were being swung even more in your favor.”

“And everything here is aboveboard?”

She shrugged and stepped in front of him. Now she was the one to lean forward and drop her voice to a whisper. “I don't take a percentage of cheaters' profits.”

“Everybody cheats at some time or another,” Caleb replied. “The only difference is who gets caught and how many times they're called out for it.”

Slowly, Sarah's smile returned and she started to nod. “You've grown up, Caleb Wayfinder. When we first got into the saloon business together, you said you wouldn't tolerate a cheat at your poker tables.”

“Poker's different.”

“I believe you said anyone who'd swindle a man at a card table deserved to be—”

Sarah was cut off when Caleb took hold of her waist and pulled her close. His lips touched against hers for a moment before she leaned in closer to make the kiss even more passionate. In no time at all, her hands had found their way around him and her fingers were sifting through his hair.

As he continued kissing her, Caleb could feel every inch of his skin warming up. Soon, it seemed as if Sarah's body was melting into his own. When their lips parted, it was out of sheer necessity to draw a breath, and even so, they were reluctant to give in to such simple demands.

As Caleb was starting to lean in again, Sarah turned away and backed off.

“What's the matter?” he asked.

Sarah crossed her arms and walked over to the door without opening it. “You're not staying,” she said. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Why not? Things are back to normal around here. The only ones looking for you or Doc anymore are just asking out of curiosity.”

“This place…Dallas…it's not…” As Caleb struggled to find his words, he found himself moving closer to Sarah. “There's a lot outside of Texas that I haven't seen.”

“From what I've heard, you've been making the rounds to card tables rather than taking in any sights.”

“What would you rather I do? Stay here and rot in some office?”

“You mean like me?” Sarah asked.

“No. What I mean is there's plenty more out there than just Dallas, and there's nothing stopping me from going out and taking it. You could come with me. Doc mentioned heading up to Denver. After that, I was thinking about seeing California or maybe Canada. Hell, I could go see New York City for the hell of it.”

“Sure beats staying here and rotting with me.”

Caleb took her in his arms and brushed the hair away from her face. As much as he wanted to tell her what she'd said wasn't true, he just couldn't. Not even Doc could have gotten away with a bluff like that.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“You can come with me, you know. There's nothing stopping you, either.”

Glancing around at her office and the shelf full of ledgers, Sarah nodded. “Yes there is. I've got this place and this job. I already own most of the Alhambra and will own it all in a few years. Dallas is getting bigger every day and there's so much more for me to do. I'd ask you to stay, but—”

“I can't,” Caleb said before she could. “So, I guess that leaves us in a bad spot.” Pulling her close, he added, “But I won't be leaving until tomorrow.”

Sarah allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace one more time.

The stage pulled into Denison right on schedule. Jenny was asleep while Doc amused Colleen with general chatter and the occasional card trick. Without missing a beat, Doc winked at Colleen and climbed out of the carriage door the moment the stage came to a stop.

“Everyone getting off here?” the driver asked.

“The ladies are heading on to Denver,” Doc said. “And I may be joining them.”

“Getting along pretty well, huh?”

“You can say that.”

Doc was heading for his hotel when he heard a vaguely familiar voice calling for him. Stopping, he turned and saw an old man standing in the door of the post office.

“Dr. Holliday!” the old-timer shouted. “You got some letters here!”

“Keep it down, I'm right here,” Doc said through gritted teeth.

“This just came for you,” the old-timer said as he waved an envelope at Doc. “Sitting with the others, in fact. Ain't you ever gonna read your mail?”

“Is it from the same place as the others?”

“All the way from Georgia, yes sir.”

Doc looked at the letter in the old man's hand. Although it was an effort to do so, he managed to shake his head and turn his back on the old man. “I'll read it later, when I've got the time.”

“Just take them now. I can fetch the others and—”

“When I've got the time,” Doc snapped. “Thank you very much.”

Rather than walk the rest of the way to his hotel, Doc went straight to the little saloon next to the stagecoach platform. It was a place no bigger than a horse stall and smelled just as bad. The man behind the bar recognized Doc on sight and immediately filled a shot glass with whiskey.

After downing the shot without so much as a wince, Doc removed the flask from his pocket and handed it over. “Be a good man and fill that for me.”

The barkeep did as he was asked and said, “Didn't know you were back in town, Doc.”

If Doc even heard the barkeep, he gave no indication. Instead, he simply drained a good portion of the flask and then handed it over again to be refilled. Once another portion of whiskey went down, Doc let out a few short hacking coughs, which eventually tapered into a wheezing sigh.

“You feeling all right?” the barkeep asked.

“I'm right as the mail,” Doc said, which brought a wry grin to his face as well as the flask back to his lips. This time, he took a bit less of the liquor before twisting the flask's cap back in place. Placing down more than enough money to cover the amount of whiskey he'd been given, he said, “Be so kind as to forget this visit.”

The barkeep made the money disappear with a deft swipe of his hand. “Anyone in particular I should keep an eye out for?”

“No.”

“Long as there ain't no trouble nipping at yer heels.”

“With any good fortune,” Doc said as his more familiar grin returned, “all the more interesting troubles are in front of me.”

Doc left the little saloon with a tip of his hat. True to his word, the barkeep returned to his business as if nobody had stepped through his door.

By the time Doc returned to the stagecoach, the horses had been replaced with a fresh team and the driver had climbed back into his seat. When he saw Doc coming, the driver leaned down and asked, “Still no luggage?”

“There are stores in Denver, aren't there?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then who needs luggage? Let's put this town behind us.”

As Doc settled into his seat, he was careful not to disturb Jenny. Soon after the wagon got moving, she was snoring loud enough to cover the sound of the horses. Colleen and Doc engaged in a bit more chat, but it wasn't nearly as spirited as when they'd left Dallas.

Doc soon crossed his arms and gazed out the window, allowing Colleen to drift off to sleep. Even though Denison wasn't more than a smudge on the horizon behind them, Doc couldn't help but feel as if he were still standing on that boardwalk with those letters in arm's reach.

Part of him wondered what was in those envelopes.

Part of him already knew.

After he'd taken a healthy swig of whiskey from his flask, every last one of those parts quieted down and allowed Doc to nod off and catch a bit of sleep.

Doc's eyes came open grudgingly and then he immediately squeezed them shut.

Pulling in a ragged breath, he leaned forward and stretched his back as best he could within the confines of the carriage. He forced his eyes open again, took a look around, and saw the same two faces that had been there when he'd dozed off. The view outside the window, however, wasn't quite as familiar.

“Where are we?” Doc grunted. Just to be on the safe side, he blinked and rubbed his eyes a bit before taking another look out the window. It didn't help.

Since she'd been the first one to fall asleep, Jenny was already awake. She looked out the window, but didn't seem half as perplexed by what she saw. “Are we there already?”

“Already?” Doc asked. “Feels like I've been asleep for a week.” Seeing the sour look on Jenny's face, he quickly added, “That doesn't look like Denver.”

Jenny scowled and looked at Doc as if he'd suddenly sprouted horns. “That's because it isn't Denver. It's Weatherford.”

“Weatherford? But that's…that's…a hell of a ways from Denver.”

“Yes,” Jenny said calmly. “It is.”

Since he was getting as much help from Jenny as he was from trying to talk to the back of his hand, Doc used the back of that hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Looks like we're coming to a stop. I do hope there's some decent food in Weatherford.”

Not only was Doc able to get a hearty dinner in Weatherford, but he acquired a neighbor as well. Walter Barry was a tall man in his early fifties with a full head of black hair that was evenly spattered with gray. The same pattern covered a good portion of his face with a thick, well-maintained beard.

Walter was a good enough sort, who took to Jenny almost immediately. The two of them laughed and joked about mundane things while Doc rolled his eyes at just the right moments to make Colleen laugh.

After a while, Walter glanced over at Doc and said, “You don't have any luggage.”

Doc blinked and seemed genuinely confused. “Pardon?”

“When I boarded at Weatherford, I gave my own bags to the driver. I saw the ladies check on theirs, but that means you have none. How can that be?”

“I'm certain you and the driver had a long, involved conversation about that very thing. He also seemed quite fascinated with the matter.”

Although Walter laughed, he would not relent. “Seriously, though. You look like a man who is well traveled.”

“Do I also look like a man who wants to talk about luggage?”

“I don't suppose so.”

“How about we discuss something more interesting? I know. What about gardening?”

Walter shrugged and crossed his arms like a child who'd been unceremoniously put in his place. “Just making conversation. It's a long ride and I wondered how anyone could travel without proper preparations.”

“Whatever I need, I can get in Denver,” Doc declared. Softening his tone a bit, he winked at Colleen and added, “Besides, you can't deny there's a certain thrill that comes from throwing caution to the wind and jumping before you pack a bag.”

“You mentioned that you wanted to go to Denver for the clean mountain air,” Walter pointed out.

“There's that, too.”

“I think that sounds very exciting,” Colleen said.

Jenny gave a choppy laugh. “You would.”

“You see?” Doc said as he leaned back to close his eyes. “The lady thinks it's a marvelous idea.”

As they traveled through Jacksboro and Fort Belknap, Doc and Colleen talked more and more about where they'd been and where they were headed. Actually, Colleen did the lion's share of the talking after switching places with her sister so she could sit directly in front of Doc.

Her voice was like a smooth ride down a steep hill. The longer the conversation went on, the faster she talked. Doc wound up nodding and adding the occasional word here and there, but little else. Once they learned they would be stopping in Fort Griffin, Doc asserted himself once more.

“Since we won't be leaving there right away, we might as well continue this conversation,” Doc offered. “I could meet you after you've had a chance to settle into your room.”

“That would be great,” she said. “Perhaps we could have some dinner as well.”

“I believe we could work that into the equation,” Doc said in his most charming Southern drawl.

Although Jenny didn't voice any disapproval regarding her sister's flirtations, she shifted in her seat and let out another short, skeptical grunt.

The ride lasted a little more than one hundred and fifty miles, most of which was filled with constant jostling and the increasing tedium of Walter's never-ending small talk. Soon, more and more of that talk was interrupted by Doc's coughing fits. They started as a scratch in the back of his throat, but soon escalated to a painful, all-consuming hacking. Most of Doc's good acquaintances were accustomed to those fits.

The sisters in the carriage, however, hadn't yet fallen into that category.

“Are you all right?” Colleen asked as the coughing got progressively worse.

Doc waved her off and pressed his handkerchief to his mouth. As the fit grew in intensity, he started taking pulls from his flask to take the edge off. Walter glanced over and caught a glimpse of blood on Doc's handkerchief.

“Oh my goodness,” Colleen said as she reached out to pat Doc's shoulder. “Maybe we should—”

Doc flinched away and ripped his shoulder from beneath her hand. In a haggard voice, he snarled, “Just leave me be. I'll be fine.”

Even though Colleen was kind enough to keep her distance without getting angry at the tone in Doc's voice, she was more than a little put off at the sudden paleness that had crept into his skin and the sunken aspect of his eyes.

“You want me to talk to the driver?” Walter asked.

Shaking his head, Doc folded his handkerchief and took another drink. The whiskey seemed to clear his throat enough to take a few easy breaths, which was enough to bring some of the color back to his face. After another sip from the flask, he looked more like his normal self. “No,” Doc said. “I'm feeling better.” Glancing at the sisters across from him, Doc smiled and slipped his flask back into his pocket. “Now, where were we?”