Denver Draw (14 page)

When Butler got back to his hotel he found two messages waiting for him at the front desk. The first was from Bat Masterson, confirming that he was on his way and would arrive in two days. The second was not from Wyatt Earp, as he had been hoping, but from Jennifer. She had written him a note saying she wanted to know what had happened at the jail as soon as possible, and that she would be waiting in her room.

Butler decided to clean up before he went to see her. It would have taken too long to take a bath so he used the pitcher and basin in his room, donned some fresh clothes and walked to her door.

“It’s about time,” Jennifer said when she opened her door. “I’ve been wondering what’s going on. Come on in.” She grabbed his arm and yanked him into the room. She was wearing a skirt, shirt, and boots, looking ready for anything—a walk, a ride, or dinner.

“Tell me,” she said. “What happened when you went to the jail?”

“Why don’t I tell you over a drink,” he said. “We’re supposed to meet Oliver in the bar at seven.”

“For what?”

“Dinner.”

“Dinner?” She touched her hair. “I have to change for dinner.”

“You look fine.”

“No, no,” she said, “I have to get ready. I only have—”

“You have a couple of hours,” he said, “and I need a drink. Come on, I’ll have you back up here in plenty of time to get ready.”

“You know,” she said as they left her room, “a man’s idea of plenty of time to get ready is a lot different than a woman’s.”

Butler got a table in the half-full bar, left Jennifer there, and went to the bar for two drinks.

“Brandy for the lady, beer for me,” he told Jeremy.

“Comin’ up.”

“Are you always here?” he asked when the man returned with the drinks.

“Pretty much. How did it go with Oliver?”

“It went really well,” Butler said. “He’s on the case. I have to thank you for referring me to him.”

“Hey, I just hope you can do each other some good,” the bartender said. “And I’m glad to help.”

Butler returned to the table with the drinks and sat down opposite Jennifer, who was drawing looks from the men in the room.

“All right,” she said, “I’m ready. Tell me what went on today, what I missed?”

“Well, Oliver turned out to be pretty good…”

“That’s amazing,” she said when he was done. “I missed all that?”

“You didn’t miss much,” Butler assured her. “It wasn’t pretty, the way Doc looked in that cell. They just let him
choke and spit up all over himself…” he shook his head.

She reached out and covered his hand with hers.

“I’m sorry your friend was so mistreated.”

“On the bright side,” he said, “Oliver is getting the doctor in to see him today, and Bat should be here in a couple of days.”

She moved her hand up his arm.

“You’re such a wonderful man to try and help your friend, this way,” she said, “especially since…”

“Especially since what?” he asked. “What were you going to say?”

“Well, it’s just that…Doc Holliday doesn’t have a very good reputation. I mean, everything I’ve read…”

“You can’t believe everything you read about somebody,” he told her. “Especially those dime novels you get back East.”

“You must’ve read some of those while you were still in the East,” she said.

“One or two,” he admitted, “and then I stopped. My intention was to come west and find out what it was really like. Now I’ve met some of the men who have had books written about them, and I can see how badly they’ve been depicted.”

“Well,” she assured him, “I would certainly put more credence in your opinion than in any of those books. If you think Doc Holliday is worth saving then I do, too.”

“Well,” he said, “that might be a little dramatic. We’re not saving him, actually. I mean, he’s pretty sick—”

“But you are saving him from having to stand trial for what happened in Tombstone,” she said.

“That’s true.”

“Although, from what I’ve heard, the confrontation
was not so much about the law as it was about…personal feelings.”

“What you heard, or what you read?”

She sat back and said, “You know, you’re right. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Maybe you should just have dinner with Mr. James alone and I can stay—”

“Nonsense,” he said, grabbing her hand now. “He wants you to come to dinner. He asked for you.”

“And you?” she asked. “Do you want me to come to dinner, too?”

“Very much.”

She smiled.

“Then I better go and get myself pretty.”

“That shouldn’t take very long.”

“You’re sweet,” she said, standing up.

“Just don’t dress too fancy,” Butler said. “You’ll make us fellas look bad.”

He watched her leave the bar, as did most of the other men in the room. Then they turned their envious gazes on him, which made him feel oddly proud.

“Ah, Miss Conway,” Oliver James said as Jennifer reentered the bar. “What a vision.”

The lawyer looked dapper in a three-piece brown suit that showed a little bit of wear and tear on slightly frayed collars and cuffs.

“Thank you, Mr. James.”

“Oliver, please.” He took her hand and kissed it.

She was surprised. The portly, sorry-looking man she’d met the day before had suddenly become charming.

“Thank you, Oliver.”

“Shall we go to dinner? I have a wonderful place picked out just walking distance from here.”

“Lead the way, Oliver.”

Butler had a feeling that since he was paying for dinner, this place was going to hit him hard in the wallet.

Oliver took Jennifer’s arm, entwined it in his own, and led the way down the street.

Chief Coolidge read the telegram he’d received from Arizona. A sheriff and a deputy sheriff were on their way to pick up Doc Holliday. Coolidge found this a relief.
He was not at all sure he could have trusted any of his men to transport Holliday all the way to Tombstone. Better to let the state of Arizona deal with it.

But he was also worried about Clint Adams and that damned lawyer, Oliver James. He’d thought himself rid of James, as a result of a couple of cases he lost that he should have won. It had been clear to all concerned—Coolidge, the district attorney, and the judge—that all they had to do was make sure Oliver James lost a few cases, and his ego would do the rest. It had worked like a charm, but now this Doc Holliday thing had brought James out of hiding. That was not good.

He put the telegram in the top drawer of his desk, then got up and left his office. He needed to speak to the district attorney as soon as possible.

At dinner, once they were seated, Oliver James took a newspaper out of his pocket and passed it to Butler.

“Have a gander.”

“What does it say?” Jennifer asked.

Butler read it aloud. It said:

“That’s wonderful,” Jennifer said. “It makes him out to be a hero.”

“Exactly,” James said, accepting the copy of the
Den
ver Republican
back from Butler.

“I don’t know how Doc is going to react to being labeled a hero,” Butler said frankly.

“Never mind,” James said. “This is a good thing. I had to pull some strings to get this into the paper.”

“What about the doctor?” Butler asked. “Healy?”

“Gerry examined Doc,” James said. “He agrees with you. Doc Holliday should not be riding a horse—not in his condition.”

“And what is his condition?” Jennifer asked.

“He’s dying, my dear,” James said, “and there’s little anyone can do about it.”

“Is that what Healy said?” Butler demanded.

“Pretty much.”

“What about this place, Glenwood Springs?” Butler asked. “It’s supposed to be good for people with Doc’s ailment.”

“I don’t know anything about that, Butler,” James said. “I’m a lawyer. Talk to Dr. Healy about that.”

Butler decided that he would do just that, first thing in the morning.

Oliver James was in a very expansive mood. He began telling Jennifer tales of his other cases—the ones he had won. She listened with rapt attention, and even applauded him a time or two. Still seated, he executed a little bow.

Having Doc Holliday for a client seemed to have resurrected James. He was vastly different from the man they had seen for the first time with his head almost hanging in a mug of beer. In fact, he was quickly becoming something Butler had never liked—a blowhard.

“Oliver,” he said, cutting the man off in mid-story.

“Yes?”

“What are the chances of getting Doc moved to a hos
pital?”

“None,” James said. “Gerry recommended it, but the chief is not having it. He says that Doc has been riding all over the West with the Earps, he doesn’t see why he can’t remain in a jail cell for a while.”

“When are they planning to send him to Arizona?”

“They’re not,” James said. “Apparently, a couple of lawmen from Arizona are on their way here.”

“When will they arrive?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Jesus,” Butler said, “I hope Bat gets here before they do.”

“It would be unfortunate if he didn’t.”

“Unfortunate?” Butler asked. “We have to come up with a plan in case they do get here first.”

“I am already thinking about it, Butler,” James said. “Believe me, I have everything under control.”

As the man went back to telling Jennifer lurid tales of his accomplishments, Butler wasn’t so sure he was ready to put Doc’s fate completely in his hands.

Oliver James walked back to the hotel with Butler and Jennifer, then excused himself.

“You young people don’t want me around bending your ear all night,” he said, and bid them good night. He told Butler to come to his office first thing in the morning so they could talk strategy. That fit in with Butler’s plan to talk with Dr. Healy.

Butler took Jennifer into the bar, where they sat with their drinks. Instead of brandy tonight she asked for beer, so that was what they both had.

“He’s quite a character,” she said, about Oliver James.

“Maybe a little too much of one,” Butler said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he seems to have recovered his confidence awfully quickly, for a man who was in the depths of depression just a day ago.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, Jennifer,” Butler said. “I’m just not sure I’m going to trust him yet. Not completely, anyway.”

“You’re still looking out for your friend, Butler,” she said. “I think that’s wonderful.”

Butler looked across the table at her. Without James in the way he could see how lovely she was tonight—and how playfully flirtatious. He began to wonder where this night might lead.

Butler woke in the morning, invigorated. Lying next to him in his bed was Jennifer Conway. It had not taken much to convince her to go back to his room with him. They’d only had that one beer, but she was ready, and so was he.

He had undressed her gently, lovingly, uncovering her warm skin, her curves, her secret places, and exploring them, making them his own. She, in turn, was not exactly inexperienced, something he did not mind in a woman. It made for quite a night.

He examined her in the morning light coming in the window. Her skin was flawless, and even first thing in the morning she was a vision. Mentally, he slapped his forehead for using the same word Oliver James had used the night before.

He started to slide from the bed, but suddenly she had a hold of his wrist. Her strength was surprising.

“Not yet,” she said softly. “We’re not finished.”

“It’s morning.”

She smiled.

“People have sex in the morning.”

She drew him back into the bed.

They had breakfast together in the dining room, and then she went back to her room “to get some rest.” Butler went to Oliver James’s building, but before going to see the lawyer, he bypassed his office to stop in and see Dr. Healy.

“Good morning, Mr. Butler,” Healy said. “What can I do for you?”

He was seated behind his desk, which was still dusty. Apparently, having Doc Holliday for a patient had not been the remedy having him for a client had been for Oliver James.

“Doc, you ever heard of Glenwood Springs?”

“Of course,” the man said. “It’s a sanatorium right here in Colorado. Why would a young fella like yourself be askin’—oh wait, I get it. You’re asking for Doc Holliday.”

“Yes, I am,” Butler said. “We’ve heard that the place is helpful to people with Doc’s condition.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Butler.”

He did.

“Of course I’ve only given your friend Holliday a cursory examination,” the man admitted. “I did it for Oliver, and made the recommendations he asked me to. But it’s my opinion that’s it too late for Glenwood Springs, or any other facility, to make a difference for Mr. Holliday. I think they could probably make his last days more comfortable, but that’s what he is headed for, his last days.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure he does,” Healy said. “He seemed so unconcerned about everything when I examined him. This man is grossly underweight and undernourished, and it has nothing to do with being in jail. I think sending him back to Arizona to be executed would be a travesty. He’s only got a matter of months, perhaps weeks, anyway.”

“Well, thank you for talking to me about it, Doc
tor,” Butler said. He stood up and shook hands with Dr. Healy, who seemed surprised by the gesture. “I appreciate it.”

“Not at all,” Healy said.

Butler headed for the door.

“Mr. Butler?”

“Yes?” Butler turned.

“May I give you a warning, or some advice?”

“Either one would be gratefully accepted.”

“Be careful of Oliver.”

“In what way?”

“He has always been a man who was out for himself,” Healy said. “Some of that changed in wake of his…failures, but he seems to me to be on the same path again.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Butler said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”