Bucking the Tiger (3 page)

Caleb's ears were ringing as the stagecoach pulled to a stop in Fort Griffin. Compared to the quiet of sleeping under the stars for the last few nights, the rattle of the stage's wheels and thunder of its horses made him feel as if he'd been put into a sack and shot out of a cannon. Judging by the way Doc looked as he stepped down out of the coach and onto the muddy street, he felt much the same way.

Jenny and Colleen couldn't get out of the coach fast enough and began climbing down well before Doc turned to offer them a hand. Colleen took the help with a quick smile and Jenny soon followed.

“It will be nice to have some fresh air,” Colleen said. Despite the politeness in her voice, her actions spoke twice as loud. She and her sister both hurried away from the coach without so much as a glance over their shoulders.

“What the hell was that about?” Caleb asked.

Clearing his throat, Doc said, “They're from St. Louis. I find people from there tend to be a bit more excitable.” Stretching his arms and legs, Doc strolled toward the nearby boardwalk. After working a few of the kinks out of his neck, he took a look around. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I checked the schedule and saw the stage was due to stop here for a bit on its way to Denver. Thought it might be a good spot to say hello. Also, the horse I bought wouldn't have made it another day before keeling over.”

Doc smirked and patted Caleb's shoulder. “Did you at least get a chance to pay Sarah a visit?”

“Sure did.”

“And?”

“None of your business.” Craning his neck to get a look around before Doc could respond, Caleb said, “Jesus Almighty, will you look at this place?”

Fort Griffin was teeming with so many sights and smells that the place felt as if it had a pulse all its own. The ground rattled under Caleb's boots thanks to the constant flow of horses and people making their way from one place to another. There was music coming from several different angles, and though none of it was particularly good, it beat the ruckus that had filled Doc's ears for the last one hundred and fifty miles or so.

Doc's eyes quickly turned upward to the balconies that were almost as crowded as the streets below them. Several men in suits leaned against rails like kings overlooking their domain, but most of the space on those balconies was occupied by women of all shapes and sizes in varying stages of undress.

“What about her, Doc?” Caleb asked as he nodded toward a plump woman with long dark hair who wore her blouse open more than enough to expose her generous breasts. “Do you think she's from St. Louis?”

“If she is, I'll have to seriously reconsider visiting that place.”

Both men laughed and made their way to the closest saloon like two leaves drifting along the same current. They were stopped by a gruff voice calling from directly behind them.

“Hey,” the stagecoach driver said. “Don't wander off too for. There's another stage coming through that's bound for Denver. It'll be leaving in a few hours.”

“If you could tear yourself away from a place such as this in just a few hours,” Doc said, “then you are more ill than I will ever be.”

The driver winced at that and hopped down to the street. Before he could say anything, he caught a glimpse of the generous breasts swaying more or less over his head. “You got a point there, mister. No need to hurry off so soon.”

“That's the spirit!” And with that, Doc strode into the saloon he'd chosen simply because it was first in his line of sight.

Caleb remained outside for a few moments to take a better look up and down the street. In the space of those few moments, he spotted more and more gambling halls, saloons, and bordellos than he'd ever dreamed could be crammed into a single stretch of land. A few gunshots rang out in the distance, but they weren't followed by much commotion, so he assumed they were fired at the sky rather than at anything with a pulse.

Gunshots or no, Caleb couldn't help but smile at Fort Griffin. And he wasn't the only one to find something of interest there. As far as he could tell, the place had swallowed up the stagecoach driver along with every one of its passengers. The driver was gone and the sisters from St. Louis were nowhere to be seen. A few words of caution came to mind, but it was too late to say them now. All Caleb could do was hope those two ladies knew when to keep their heads down.

Feeling like a fresh gust of wind had just filled his sails, Caleb headed into the saloon that had already claimed Doc. As soon as Caleb stepped into the place, he was quickly shoved right back out again by the slender dentist.

“No gambling tables in there,” Doc said as he brushed past him. “Let's take a look at what else there is.”

“Don't you at least want a drink?”

“Already got one.”

“Well, I didn't. Where the hell are you headed, Doc?”

“I just remembered a friend of mine might be around here somewhere. Fellow by the name of Owen Donnelly.”

Before Caleb could ask who Owen Donnelly was, he realized that he didn't much care. “You go on ahead. Just be sure to find your way back to the stage before it leaves.”

But Doc was already making his way down the street and was almost out of sight. Caleb watched him disappear and shrugged to himself. He knew Doc could handle himself, and if he couldn't, it wasn't Caleb's job to do it for him. Besides, Fort Griffin was a place that deserved to be soaked in, and this saloon was as good a place as any to start.

The front of the saloon was tall and narrow. While some places seemed bigger on the inside than they looked on the outside, this wasn't one of them. It was every bit as narrow as it appeared to be and was even more cramped due to the fact that its upper floor was closed off and only accessible by a narrow set of stairs. Lanterns swung from hooks at odd spots along the walls, giving the place a dim glow.

Standing at the bar, there were mostly cowboys being tended to by working girls sporting velvet ribbons tied around their upper arms. Caleb quickly found the stagecoach driver being romanced by a little brunette with her hair tied into a braid.

When he spotted Caleb at the door, the driver lifted his drink and shouted, “Hell of a town, ain't it?”

Caleb put on a smile and walked over to the driver's side. Leaning in close to the man's ear, he said, “Keep an eye on your valuables. Looks like your new lady friend is doing the same.”

Immediately, the driver's hand shot toward the pouch that had been slung over his shoulder since the beginning of the ride from Denison. And, twice as quickly, the brunette's hand slipped out from where it had just made its way beneath the pouch's flap.

Since he was too slow to feel the woman's hand where it shouldn't have been, the driver smirked and chucked Caleb on the shoulder. “I think I'll keep an eye on this pretty lady's valuables, if it's all the same to you,” he said.

“Suit yourself.” With that, Caleb tipped his hat to the working girl and let her get back to her job. If some men were too stupid to take care of themselves, they deserved whatever they got. All concerns he might have had for the driver losing more than just his shirt flew out of Caleb's mind once he got a look at the small table in the back corner of the saloon.

Caleb couldn't see much, but he could just make out the pretty face of a redhead sitting on one side of the table. She was looking out and smiling at four other men who were sitting across from her. Between them, on the table itself, was a faro layout where all sizes of bets were being placed.

“You want to buck the tiger, mister?” came a voice from Caleb's left.

Considering what was going through Caleb's mind at the time, he didn't put that phrase together with playing faro right away. He chuckled and forced himself to look away from the redhead so he could see who'd asked the question. The man he found was as tall and narrow as the saloon itself and displayed a smile as crooked as the game to which he was referring.

“I thought there wasn't any gambling in here,” Caleb said to the barkeep.

The barkeep's smile wavered a bit as he asked, “Who told you that?”

“A friend of mine who was just in here.”

“You mean that skinny fellow with them fancy clothes?”

“That's the one,” Caleb said.

“He was asking about poker. Didn't seem to want to hear about faro, but we do have plenty of that.” Leaning forward on his elbows, the barkeep added, “I see you took a shine to Lottie over there. She deals a straight game and looks even prettier up close. Why not take a look for yourself?”

“Actually, I thought she was someone else.”

“If there's another one as pretty as Lottie around here, I'd like to meet her.”

The fact of the matter was that Lottie was a whole other animal compared to the redhead that had shared Doc's stagecoach into town.

“Lottie, huh?” Caleb said under his breath. “Maybe I will introduce myself.”

“You want to talk to her, you gotta have a drink.”

“Didn't my friend buy enough whiskey for the both of us?”

Although the barkeep didn't seem too happy about it, he soon started to nod. “Yeah, you're right. Go on ahead.”

“Come to think of it, I am a little thirsty,” Caleb said. “How long ago did you brew your beer?”

“Just this morning,” came the practiced response. After he saw a critical glare from Caleb, the barkeep said, “Actually, you may want to try something else. This morning's batch don't exactly taste so fresh.”

“Why? Because it's been sitting around for a few months?”

The barkeep didn't say anything, but he did roll his eyes just enough to answer the question.

“Thanks for the warning,” Caleb said. “I'll have a whiskey.”

“Coming right up.”

When he got his glass full of whiskey, Caleb carried it across the room toward the faro table. He sipped the liquor and felt it burn down his throat. Once the taste hit him, it was much easier to bear when he was jostled enough for more than half of the whiskey to be spilled onto the floor.

Caleb fought the tide of drunks and working girls until he made it to Lottie's table. He stood there for all of two seconds before the redhead glanced up and made eye contact with him. It was worth the wait.

Lottie wore a dark green dress with a plunging neckline that displayed a generous amount of cleavage. Her skin was smooth and pale, accented here and there by the occasional freckle. She sat with perfect posture and her arms situated nicely on the table. Her lips curled into a seductive smile before parting just enough to let out a few words.

“Care to have a seat, stranger?” she asked.

“I think I'll just watch for a while,” Caleb replied.

“If you're watching to check up on me, you don't have to worry. Ask anyone and they'll tell you this is an honest game.”

“Maybe it's not the cards I'm watching.”

Smiling as she laughed under her breath, Lottie started shuffling the cards in flowing, easy motions. “How many times have I heard that today, Earl?”

A slender man with an unkempt beard shifted in his seat next to the abacus at the corner of the table and scratched his chin. “Today? At least two. I'd say it's been a couple dozen times this week, though.”

“Well, if you want to stop hearing compliments,” Caleb told her, “you're going to stop looking so pretty.”

Turning over the last card and settling up on the bets, Lottie grinned and shifted her eyes back to Caleb. “That wasn't as smooth, but it was newer than the rest of the lines I get around here.”

“Hey, now!” blustered a gray-haired fellow who wore the dust of a weeklong ride on his face. “I take exception to that!”

“All except for Jordan,” Lottie corrected. “He's got the tongue of an angel.”

“And the hands of a devil,” Jordan said, which elicited a round of bawdy laughter from all the other men gathered around the table. Despite all the encouragement, however, Jordan kept his hands over his money and his backside attached to his chair. His eyes, on the other hand, were glued to the pale, supple curves of Lottie's breasts.

Caleb joined in and laughed with all the rest, but also made a point of taking another look around the table. It was then that he spotted a few men who weren't laughing. In fact, those men grew more stern as more attention was being drawn to Lottie's table.

When one of those men with the sour expressions took a seat around the table, Lottie lost a bit of the warmth in her smile. It came back once she noticed that another seat had just been filled.

“Maybe I will try my luck,” Caleb said as he scooted his chair up close to the table.

Lottie nodded to acknowledge all the players as she shuffled up the cards and spread them on the table. Every one of her movements flowed like steam drifting along the edge of a bathtub. When she placed the cards into the dealing box, Lottie pulled the edge of the first card out, but kept enough of it inside the box to keep the one beneath it from being seen.

“Enough with the soda,” Jordan grunted, referring to that first card by its slang name. “I'm ready for the hard liquor!” To punctuate his words, he slapped down a silver dollar beneath a penny onto the ten displayed on the table.

“All that talk and you're only coppering one little bet?” Lottie asked in a sweet yet teasing voice.

“And this on the little lady to win,” Jordan added as he slapped another five dollars onto the queen on the table's layout.

While this was going on, the rest of the men at the table placed their bets for what they thought would win or lose. Bets were placed on a display of the cards, all of which were shown in the suit of spades. If they thought a card would lose, they placed a copper token, or sometimes a penny, on that card. The bets came quickly and with plenty of cross talk between the gamblers before they were all stopped by a subtle wave of Lottie's hand.

Lottie pulled the soda from the box and set it aside. She then removed the next card as well and laid it beside the box. All of these motions were done with such a quick fluidity that both the card she'd removed as well as the one displayed through the rectangular hole cut in the box were revealed at approximately the same time.

The card she set next to the box was the loser. It was the five of clubs.

The card showing through the hole in the box was the winner and it was the jack of spades.

“You know I love you, Jordan,” Lottie said. “But I'm going to have to take that money away.”

Jordan made a show of being mad, but knew better than to make a move toward the money.

As he played that hand along with a few others, Caleb watched the way things at the table moved. He could see how players were kept on their side of the layout and how well the dealer's box and stacks of money were controlled. He also watched the frowning man at the end of the table, which was more difficult than it should have been, since Caleb wanted to keep his eye on Lottie more than anything else.

Even though the redhead never moved from her seat, her body shifted as if she were wriggling through calm waters. She tossed her hair from one shoulder to the other with little twitches of her head as she snapped the cards from the dealer's box with deft twists of her wrist. When she spoke, it was always in a luxuriant tone. When she looked at Caleb, it seemed that she was making him a sinful promise with her dark brown eyes.

As they worked their way through the deck, every man at the table tried their luck with gaining the dealer's favor. Some of the flirtations were innocent enough, while others drifted more toward heartfelt and even desperate. Lottie deflected most of them with as much skill as she used in handling the cards, and none of the exchanges ended on a harsh note.

None of them, that is, except for one.

The frowning man at the end of the table had his hands flat upon the felt and his eyes fixed upon Lottie. He hadn't even made a move toward the small pile of chips that had been pushed his way.

“What the fuck is this?” the frowning man growled.

Although the other gamblers were no strangers to such language, those words were very much out of place at that particular table. A few of the men even seemed offended.

“No need to speak to the lady like that,” Jordan said.

Caleb shared that sentiment, but he knew all too well that saying as much wouldn't do a lick of good.

“It's all right,” Lottie said while patting Jordan's hand. “He's just a little upset. What seems to be the problem?”

Flicking a few fingers toward his chips, the frowning man said, “This is the problem. It's short.”

Lottie's brow furrowed as she went over the last several moves she'd made. Finally, she pointed out, “But you won. I paid you.”

“You paid me, but it's not enough,” the frowning man insisted. “You shorted me and I want the rest of what you owe.”

“I paid you the proper amount. Just take it and if you want to win more, you should probably bet more than five dollars a hand.”

“I bet fifty dollars on that hand, bitch, and you know it.” Even though he hadn't taken his hands off the felt on top of the table, the frowning man took on the disposition of a wolf that had just bared its fangs.

The other men around the table could feel the tension in the air on an instinctual level.

Caleb was more concerned by how close the frowning man's hand was to the gun holstered at his side. “If you've got a problem, maybe you should take it up with me,” Caleb said.

The frowning man's eyes shifted in their sockets just enough to get a look at Caleb. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

“He's not a part of this,” Lottie interrupted. Shifting in her seat, she squared her shoulders and fixed the frowning man with an intent gaze. “If you have a problem, you speak to me. This is my table and you know that well enough.”

But Caleb and the frowning man's eyes were locked in a fierce test of wills.

The frowning man's eyes were close-set and dark as two nuggets of charred iron. His face was a tough mask of leathery skin, which barely moved as he stared Caleb down. It normally took emotion to change a man's face that way, but there was none to be found in this man's expression.

“Whoever you are, mister, you'd be wise to let this pass. It don't concern you.”

“That's right,” Lottie said as she glared at Caleb. “It doesn't. This is my table,” she added while shifting her gaze over to the frowning man. “Since I don't want it disturbed any longer, I'll set these matters straight right here and now.”

The frowning man didn't attempt to smile, but he did take some of the edge from his glare when he said, “Finally, the voice of reason.”

Caleb's first instinct was to get back into the confrontation before Lottie bit off more than she could chew. On the other hand, she seemed to know more about what was happening than he did. She also wasn't short on backup since Earl was subtly reaching for something under his section of the table.

“Any of you assholes feel like you got a wild hair up your ass, make your move now,” the frowning man said. “Otherwise, back off and let me and the lady here take care of our business.”

Before any of the gamblers could say a word, Lottie glanced around the table and spoke in a voice that was as calm as it was convincing. “It's all right, fellas. This is just a misunderstanding. I'll take care of it and we can get right back to the cards as soon as I'm done.”

That seemed to be enough to convince the men to pursue their entertainment elsewhere for the time being. Once the table had been cleared, however, one seat was still occupied.

“Go on,” Lottie said to Caleb.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded and gave him another one of her promising winks. “Don't worry. I won't forget about you.”

Caleb got to his feet and took one more look at the frowning man. After that, he tipped his hat and headed to the bar. There wasn't a spot open where he could still keep an eye on the faro table, so Caleb pushed aside a few drunks and made a spot for himself.

“Who's that man?” Caleb asked the barkeep.

The moment the barkeep spotted the frowning man at Lottie's table, his eyes widened and he pulled in a quick, reflexive breath. “Oh…I don't know.”

“Don't give me that,” Caleb said. “He's been waiting to stir up some shit from the moment he sat down.

“He's probably just drunk. A lot of times drunks need a while to screw up their courage.”

“He's not drunk and he's not looking for any courage,” Caleb said with certainty. “He's just been waiting for his opening. Now he's got it.” Although he didn't want to take his eyes from the table, Caleb did just that so he could get a better look at the barkeep. “You know who he is.”

“He's trouble, mister, and you're better off not knowing him. We all are,” Seeing that Caleb wasn't about to back down, the barkeep sighed and said, “His name's Boyer.”

“And what's his problem with Lottie?”

“It's got something to do with the game she runs. I don't know the details because I just rent her the space and take a small percentage of the winnings.”

“How small?”

“Ten percent,” the barkeep said in a wavering voice. After a stern, unfriendly glare from Caleb, the barkeep shifted his eyes away and added, “More like twenty percent. I swear that's all.”

It was only then that Caleb realized he was starting to lean over the bar and stretch his hand toward the gun at his side. At least that explained why the barkeep had suddenly become desperate to get away from him.

“All I want is to…” Caleb's words trailed off as he twisted around to look back toward Lottie's table, only to find it empty. After looking around quickly, he caught a glimpse of her long red hair as she tossed it over her shoulder while making her way around a corner and into another section of the saloon. Boyer was close behind.

“What's over there?” Caleb asked.

The barkeep glanced in that direction and replied, “Just some storage space.”

“Aw, hell.”