Bucking the Tiger (9 page)

Considering how much attention she normally drew, it was nothing short of impressive when Lottie decided to blend into the background. For the redhead with skin that looked like poured cream, succeeding in such a feat was something close to a miracle. Sitting at a small table with her hair hanging straight along her back, Lottie sipped a drink and kept her head down while watching Caleb's game from afar.

Doc sat between her and most of the rest of the room, further blocking her from most folks' view. “How's he doing?” Doc asked.

Lottie nodded and took another sip. “Pretty well. I don't think he has a future in theater, but I've seen worse.”

“Is your friend Taylor looking too scared?”

“Not from what I can see. If Mike and that deputy start getting rough, though, that might change. Was that a part of your plan?”

“Not exactly, but I should have expected as much. Caleb does enjoy his surprises.”

“You don't think he's trying to sabotage this, do you?”

“Not at all,” Doc replied without hesitation. “He's just keeping everyone on their toes. Speaking of which, you're playing one hell of a game, Lottie.”

She lifted her glass in a toast. “Thanks, Doc. The same goes for you. I only picked up on your mechanics once so far. I hope you haven't been dealing me seconds.”

“I wouldn't risk fixing the deal unless it was absolutely necessary. So far, I've mostly dealt in people's favor.”

“Did you learn anything?”

Nodding, Doc said, “I've seen how Taylor reacts to a good hand and how he reacts to a splendid hand. I've even got a fairly good grasp of how he reacts to hands that tend to give a man nightmares.”

“Like that one where you were dealt four to a straight flush?”

Doc shifted in his chair and looked over at her to find Lottie wearing an attractive, mischievous smile. “You did that?”

“I certainly knew you had something and that's what I put you on. Looks like I was right.” After sipping her drink, she turned to watch the stage for a few seconds. “You do learn something every day. One thing you should learn is to stay away from women like Trish.”

“She has her charms.”

“I know, but her signals are sloppy and she is way too obvious when she looks at everyone's cards.”

“She looked at our cards?” Doc asked in shock.

Lottie glanced over at him with a shake of her head to let him know she wasn't buying what he was trying to sell. “If you truly couldn't tell that much on your own, I wouldn't have considered working with you on this.”

“If I may be so bold,” Doc said, “why are you working with us?”

“Pardon me?”

“Caleb and I have been trying to get a partnership with some of the others for a while now, and nobody's seemed interested. I could understand being hesitant at first, but I dare say we've proved ourselves to be good earners.”

“There's no question about that,” Lottie replied. “But some of the others are a little wary of you and Caleb. You two seemed to have built up a hell of a reputation back in Dallas.”

“I see.”

Patting Doc's arm, Lottie added, “I'm only saying this because it's something you should know. The saloon owners didn't have many good things to say about you, but that was because they were worried about some sore loser knocking you over and taking his money back. As for Caleb, there's been a whole other problem.”

“Go on.”

Lottie took a sip of her drink. Once the liquor worked its way through her system a bit, she seemed to find it a little easier to continue. “Caleb's a good soul and Lord knows he's stepped in for me when I needed it. When I heard the things I've heard, I knew better than to believe them.”

“What things?”

“Things like he's too dangerous to work with,” Lottie said. “And that he's a little too quick to draw his gun at the wrong moments. Apparently, there's been some other trouble in Dallas that doesn't sit too well with folks on the circuit. There are stories about cardplayers winning big in the place he used to own and never being seen again. Gamblers have long memories, Doc. That goes for faces and rumors just as it does for tells and odds.”

“And what's he supposed to have done that is so bad?”

“Killing that penny-ante hustler for one.”

Doc froze with his glass raised halfway to his mouth. After thinking for a solid couple of seconds, he shook his head. “That's something I've never heard of. Do you have a name to go with that?”

“No, but there's been a few more. Enough for us to have heard about it in Fort Griffin. If you're truly trying to make a way for yourself in places like Denver and California, then you might want to get some distance between yourself and someone like him.” When she saw Doc grin and finally start to laugh, Lottie asked, “What's so funny?”

“This whole conversation. We're taking a breather while fleecing a rich man for all he can lose and you're worried about the ethics of my partner.”

“For right now, I'm your partner as well, Doc. If you want to be known in a town and set up a game without having to fight for the right to do so, you should choose your company a little more wisely.”

“You've spent a bit of time with Caleb. Do you believe he's some coldhearted killer?”

“No, but this isn't about what I believe. There's talk on the circuit and I thought you should know what it is. Boyer isn't even cold in the ground yet and his people are spreading word all the way into Cheyenne.”

“Ah.” Doc breathed into his whiskey glass. “The infamous Tiger rears its ugly head.”

“Caleb was asking me about that,” Lottie said, “and I don't think he appreciates what I told him. Killing Boyer earned you some praise, but it'll cause you a whole lot more grief.”

“It will if the Tiger is only wounded and left alone,” Doc said. “Any animal becomes more dangerous in that situation.”

Lottie shifted and leaned forward so she could be heard when she lowered her voice. “The Tiger isn't just some legend and he's no joke.”

“Then maybe he should have picked a more adult name.”

“Joke all you want. More folks around here listen to the Tiger than they do to you.”

“Things can change,” Doc said. “They always do.”

“Nothing needs to change right now,” came a voice from behind Lottie, which was followed by a hand dropping onto Doc's shoulder.

Caleb stepped up to the table and pulled up a chair for himself. “Mike just took out Deputy Anders. It was beautiful.”

“Then I guess I'd better get back to the game,” Lottie said as her familiar smile returned. When she stood up and tossed her hair over one shoulder, she practically beamed with a radiant beauty that was impossible to duplicate. “You boys better not keep me waiting.”

After Lottie was gone, Doc shook his head and emptied his whiskey glass. “Women like that make me yearn for the girls I knew in Georgia.”

“Is Mattie the one you're talking about?” Caleb asked.

Doc's head snapped around and his eyes narrowed. “What are you saying about her?”

“Easy, Doc. Just taking a guess. After all those letters she sent you in Dallas, I figured she had to be someone special. Speaking of which, I'd wager there were a few of those waiting for you back in Denison.”

“Right. And that's where they'll stay.”

“Is she someone who might pull you back into Georgia and away from this life of sin and debauchery?”

Doc chuckled once under his breath and then let out a full-fledged laugh. “Now, why on earth would I want to leave behind a perfectly good slice of sin and debauchery? Now that you mentioned sin, I have been thinking about one in particular.”

“If it involves you and Trish before the game started, then I don't want to hear about it.”

“Not that, although that was fairly…Never mind. The sin I was thinking about was murder.”

“Huh?”

Putting a steely edge into his voice, Doc said, “As in, I should kill you for inviting that badge-wearing son of a bitch into this game. That prick could ruin everything.”

“That lawdog's been sniffing around a lot of the games in town trying to get in on one of them,” Caleb explained. “Soon as I invited him to ours, he backed off the rest. It's caused a hell of a lot of goodwill around here. Besides, you're the one who's always talking about expecting the unexpected and all of that. What better way to practice your mechanics than when you're being watched by a lawman? It's bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Actually, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.”

“And he won't even be there for the rest of the game.”

“Mike cleaned him out?”

“He got him out of the game, and I doubt he'll be wanting to get into another one anytime soon.”

“He was just looking for a percentage of the profits, Caleb,” Doc said. “You should have paid him off and been done with it.”

“I don't like being shoved around, Doc. Especially by the law.”

“I know how you feel. Too late to fret about it now. Mike was all too eager to divert that deputy's attention. Now that he's gone, we can get right back to the business at hand. That is, unless Taylor has left us.”

“He hasn't,” Caleb said. “In fact, he seemed to enjoy watching the fireworks when Mike and Anders locked horns.”

“Probably just the sort of thing he was looking for. I'd imagine having a lawman at the table even lent our game that much more credence in his eyes.”

“We'll see.”

“Does he suspect that we're not actually about to throw punches at each other?” Doc asked.

“I don't think so, but he might be suspicious if he catches us talking like this.”

“Nice touch with the whore, by the way,” Doc added.

Caleb averted his eyes and tapped his boot against the table leg. “Yeah. She worked out pretty good.”

“She was a perfect reason for us to bicker. She also did a good job of tipping me to a few of the hands Taylor was playing. I've got a real good eye for the man by now.”

“Looked to me like you had your eye on something else before the game.”

Shrugging, Doc said, “I am only human, after all. She offered to help and I accepted after a bit of convincing.”

“Since you got the convincing, you can pay her out of your cut.”

“Are you serious?”

Caleb cocked his head and fixed Doc with a look that showed him just how serious he was.

When he leaned forward to meet that glare, Doc wheezed slightly and forced himself to hold back the coughing fit that was scratching at the back of his throat. “And whatever money of ours that deputy walked away with will come out of your cut.”

“That's fair.”

Doc offered his hand and Caleb shook it. Even after all the whiskey Doc had ingested and all the coughing he'd done, his cool, bony hand was still able to maintain a powerful grip.

“Now,” Doc said, “let's play our parts and fleece this lamb that Lottie was so kind to bring to our table.”

Hours passed and the music inside the Beehive finally started to fade. Even after the dancers got tired and found other things to keep them occupied, there was always some sort of commotion in the back half of the saloon. As the first rays of the sun broke across the sky, nobody at Caleb's table noticed. They were too busy managing their cards and guarding their chips.

The chair between Taylor and Caleb was once again empty, but it hadn't been that way the entire night. After Anders had made his exit, a few other brave souls sat down there, only to be snapped like a dry twig in a hurricane. The gamblers had played together for too long and were too intent on their purposes to be affected by a new face. As morning turned into afternoon, the saloon was quieter than it had been all night. By that time, the gamblers and drunks were the only ones there, and music didn't do much to soothe their souls.

Lottie and Mike were doing fairly well for themselves and had a decent amount of chips to prove it.

Caleb wasn't so lucky and had fought tooth and nail to stay in the game during some of the bloodier skirmishes. The main reason he was still in the game at all was the increasing skill shown in Doc's dealing. Even as Doc unleashed a series of brutal coughs, he still managed to get his hands on the right cards and send them Caleb's way when they were needed.

But Doc wasn't completely unselfish in that regard. Knowing what to look for, Caleb spotted some of Doc's fancy mechanics used to fix the deal. But that didn't explain how he won so many hands that he didn't deal. Doc's skill at the game shone through all the whiskey he drank and all the blood he coughed into his handkerchief.

And yet, somehow, Taylor's winnings rivaled Doc's. At times, they even eclipsed his.

Caleb looked down at his cards and had to blink away the fog that came from lack of sleep. They'd been playing for the better part of a day, and those hours were wreaking havoc on Caleb inside and out, top to bottom. At first, Caleb thought he had a straight, but then he blinked and saw another batch of the same crap that Taylor had been dealing him all night.

“I'll bet twenty,” Caleb said without flinching.

“Sure you can afford that much?” Lottie asked.

Caleb actually looked down at his chips before he realized she'd been kidding. “I can afford it,” he said. “Especially when I take this hand.”

She tossed her chips in and gave him a consoling rub on the shoulder.

Without looking at his cards, Doc said, “Make it three hundred more.”

Caleb didn't have to do one bit of acting when he glared across at the other man's sunken face and growled, “That's all I got left.”

“I believe you're thirty-five dollars short, but I'll let you float if you want to call. That is, if nobody objects.”

“Don't matter what I say,” Mike said as he pitched his cards lazily in Doc's direction rather than to the dealer. Although he got a stern glare from Taylor, Mike appeared to be too close to keeling over from exhaustion to notice.

“No offense, Caleb,” Taylor said, “but considering your luck these last few hands, I'd call whatever bet you made and would take any marker you offered.”

Lottie covered her mouth and shook her head when Doc looked her way.

While mulling over his decision, Caleb went through the motions that had become second nature after so many hours of playing in that particular spot. He drummed his fingers, fidgeted with his cards, and worked out the kinks in his muscles, all of which were signals to Doc as to the exact cards he was holding. “Ah, to hell with all of you,” Caleb said as he tossed his cards onto the pile of deadwood near Doc's left hand. “I'm out.”

“Out of turn, but accepted,” Taylor said as he pushed in enough chips to match Doc's raise. “What about you, Lottie?”

After taking a moment for consideration, Lottie shook her head and said, “I do have a debilitating sense of optimism, so I'll stay in to see how my hand can improve.”

Once the money was in the middle of the table, Taylor took the deck and looked at Lottie.

As she pondered her decision, she ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. She could feel eyes being drawn to her from every section of the room. Taylor wasn't as lecherous as some of the drunks scattered nearby, but he found it just as difficult to look away from her.

“I'll take three,” she said softly.

“Two for me,” Doc added. When he didn't get his cards right away, Doc tapped the table with his discards. “Excuse me. If you'd prefer to be alone with the lady, by all means fold and do your business.”

Taylor shook his head as if to snap himself from a dream and flipped two cards at Doc. Once Lottie had looked away from him, Taylor said, “Dealer takes one.” After filling in his own hand, Taylor reached out and gathered up the deadwood.

“I'll bet fifty,” Lottie said.

Clearing his throat, Doc asked, “You make that pair, Miss Deno?”

“You'll have to pay to see them, just like everyone else, Dr. Holliday. Well,” she added while winking at Taylor, “maybe not quite everyone.”

“For your sake, I hope it's one hell of a pair,” Doc said. “I'll raise it to five thousand.”

Although it was already quiet in the place, those words somehow made it get quieter. The only sound that could be heard was a subtle wheeze in the back of Doc's throat. As he sipped his whiskey, the wheeze dwindled away.

“Did you say five thousand?” Taylor asked.

“Yes,” Doc replied while shoving in several stacks of chips. “Is that a problem?”

“Why settle for that, Doc?” Taylor asked with a nervous chuckle. “Why not just push it all in?”

“Table etiquette denies me that honor since I've already made my bet,” Doc said in a whiskey-soaked Southern accent that was thick as peach cobbler.

“Then let me do the honors.” As he pushed in his own chips, Taylor lost every bit of discomfort or even friendliness in his voice. “Ten thousand more…Actually…make it ten thousand fifty-five. I believe that would put you all in.”

Letting out a slow whistle, Lottie set her cards down and slid them away from her as if they were rigged to explode. “You boys can fight this out among yourselves. Count me out.”

Taylor acknowledged her fold with a nod. He leaned forward a bit with both arms on the table as if to physically guard what little of his chips remained. “What about it, Doc?”

Despite all the money in the middle of the table, all the time that had been devoted to the game, and all the tension that was in the air, Doc sat in his seat as if he were watching a dog cross the street. Refilling his glass from his own flask, he seemed to be more interested in the way the whiskey swirled at the bottom than whatever else was going on.

Taylor may have been showing a bit more anxiousness in his posture and eyes, but he wasn't chomping at the bit half as much as Caleb.

After a subtle cough, Doc said, “You must either think I don't have the fortitude to make this call or you've got one daisy of a hand.”

“I wouldn't cast aspersions on your fortitude, Holliday.”

“And there's always the third option,” Doc continued as if there were nobody else in the room. “You think I'm bluffing.”

“That is something that's happened from time to time at a poker game.”

“Indeed.”

“You want a lesson in gambling, Caleb?” Doc asked, completely dropping the previous ruse that he could barely tolerate his partner's company. “This is what you call a strong-arm tactic. Mr. Taylor here wants me to call so badly, he can no longer contain himself. What a pity. He's been doing such a good job until now.”

Caleb didn't say anything in response to that. In fact, he was so tired that he had to strain to think back to when he and Doc had agreed to fight and squabble at the table as a way to make the targets think they weren't running anything. Doc had been the one to suggest running that act during this game as a way to get some practice. They'd pretty much dropped it once Anders was gone, but Caleb didn't like having Doc speak so frankly while there was still work to be done.

“Sure, Doc,” Caleb said. “Thanks for the pointer.”

“We can pick this up some other time,” Mike offered. “We could all use some sleep.”

“Nonsense!” Doc said a little too loudly. “It's just getting good. I've had to wait for hours and hours and…” Wobbling in his seat, Doc removed the watch from his vest pocket, flipped it open, looked at it, snapped it shut, slipped it back into his pocket, and said, “…and hours just for this moment.”

Without saying a word, Caleb craned his neck so he could look straight into Doc's eyes. Once he saw what he needed to see, he said, “You're drunk, Doc. That's no way to piss away this much—”

“I don't need a wet nurse!” Doc snarled as he viciously swatted at Caleb, while almost hitting Lottie in the process.

Rolling his eyes, Caleb leaned back in his chair so he could watch from a safe distance.

“Are you going to move your chips in, Doc?” Taylor asked.

“Yes,” Doc replied. “In fact, I believe I'll raise.”

Taylor eyed him cautiously. “Raise with what? I'd rather not accept a marker.”

“No marker needed. I believe this will be sufficient.” As he said that, Doc removed the gold and diamond stickpin that was with him almost as much as his rasping cough. He took it from his collar reverently and set it against his chips.

Caleb had to keep from wincing when he saw that, knowing well enough that Doc was wagering with something that was much more to him than just a piece of jewelry.

“That was a gift from my father,” Doc explained. “And if you question its value, you'll need to defend yourself.”

“I'm not questioning anything,” Taylor said as he studied the stickpin. “I can see from here that it's a fine piece. I must be honest when I tell you I didn't think this would go this far.”

“It's poker,” Doc said with a fond smile. “There is no
too far
in this game. You can either call the bet or fold.”

“Fine, then,” Taylor said as he pushed in the remainder of his chips. “I call.”

“That's not enough to cover the diamonds alone,” Doc said. “You'll need to find something else to bet or fold.”

“All I've got is out there. Surely we can come to an arrangement if this hand goes your way.”

“Afraid not. I'd rather not accept a marker. I'm sure you understand.”

Although there was a bit of nervous laughter coming from Mike and Caleb, Taylor wasn't quite so appreciative of the way Doc threw his own words straight back at him.

“You still feel like you can lead me around by the nose, Holliday?”

When Doc sat up straight, he wavered slightly and then held his chin up high. “Whatever are you trying to insinuate, sir?”

“Cut the shit,” Taylor snapped. “You're a hell of a card handler, I'll give you that much. But you're a little too big for your britches. If you wouldn't have been so full of yourself, I might have been impressed with what I've seen so far.”

“And what have you seen?”

“A couple of wet-behind-the-ear hustlers who bit off more than they could chew.”

Glancing back at Caleb, Doc said, “I prefer to think of us as up-and-comers within these prestigious ranks.”

“You want something more to cover this bet?” Taylor asked. Reaching over his shoulder and behind his neck, he removed a slender blade and slapped it onto the table in a smooth motion that was over in nearly as much time as it took to blink. “That should cover it.”

Doc glanced down at the blade before reaching out to take hold of it by the handle. Since Taylor didn't make a move to stop him, Doc turned the blade around in his hands so he could examine it from end to end. The handle was smooth wood polished to a black sheen, which closely resembled ebony.

“I'm no judge of knives,” Doc admitted, “but the craftsmanship is impressive. I especially like the blade. Here, Caleb. See what you think.”

Engraved upon the blade, running from handle to tip, was a tiger with its tail stretched out and one forepaw extended. Every claw could be seen within the engraving, along with the feral look in the animal's eyes.

“Did you think no one would notice when Boyer turned up dead?” Taylor asked.

Just then, four of the remaining customers scattered throughout the saloon turned to face the card table. Their guns were already drawn.