Denver Draw (7 page)

“Isn’t a sanitarium a place where they send crazy people?” Doc asked when Wyatt finished his pitch.

“No,” Wyatt said, “it’s for sick people, Doc. People who are…well, like you. I mean, not like you but who have—”

“Okay, Wyatt,” Doc said, raising his hand, “I know what you mean.” Butler had noticed the night before how long and tapered Doc’s fingers seemed to be. Also, how skinny his wrists were. “I get it.”

“What do you think, Doc?” Wyatt said.

“I’ll give it some thought,” Doc said. “Right now I’m going to get another drink. Anyone else want one?”

They were all drinking beer and had plenty left.

“He took it well,” Virgil said.

“I thought he took it well,” Butler said. “Except for that part about the crazy people.”

“He’s not gonna go,” Wyatt said.

“Well,” Bat said, “when he comes back maybe we should talk about the warrants.”

“Yeah,” Wyatt said, “he might take that a little easier.”

They all fell quiet as Doc returned with his fresh drink. He sat and looked around at them.

“That isn’t it, is it?” he asked. “There’s more?”

“This is different,” Wyatt said. “You know there are warrants out for your arrest in Arizona.”

“There’s warrants on all of us,” Doc pointed out.

“Yeah, but Virg and I were wearin’ badges,” Wyatt said. “We can work that out. You didn’t have a badge, Doc, so you’re at risk to be extradited back to Arizona, and tried.”

“And you got a solution?”

“I think so,” Wyatt said. “Bat’s gonna arrest you.”

“What?”

“Well, not really arrest you,” Wyatt said quickly. “He’s gonna have a judge swear out a warrant against you. With an active warrant in Colorado, they won’t be able to drag you back to Tombstone to stand trial.”

Doc looked to be mulling this over, then looked at Bat.

“You can do that?”

“I have to talk to this judge I know,” Bat said, “but I think I can swing it, yeah.”

“So there’d be a warrant out for my arrest, but no one in Colorado would act on it.”

“Right.”

Doc toyed with his glass for a few seconds, then asked Bat, “Why would you do this?”

“Truthfully? Because Wyatt asked me to.”

Doc looked at Wyatt, who shrugged.

“Good enough for me,” Doc said. “I, uh, am much obliged, Bat.”

“Sure,” Bat said. “No guarantee, but I should know somethin’ in a few days. Can you stay that long?”

Doc and Wyatt exchanged a glance and then Doc said, “I don’t see why not.”

“I’m gonna move on, if nobody minds,” Virgil said.

“Wyatt, you might as well go with him,” Doc said. “I’ll be fine here for a few days, until Bat figures this out.”

“Where you headin’, Virg?” Bat asked.

“Denver, I think. After that, I ain’t sure.”

“Denver’s good enough for me,” Wyatt said. “After that I think I’ll join Josie in California.”

Doc looked at Bat this time and said, “Might be I’ll be keepin’ some of your customers away. I could do my drinkin’ and gamblin’ in another saloon in town, if you like.”

“Naw,” Bat said. “Once folks get used to you bein’ around they’ll probably come in here just to have a look. So I guess it’s up to you whether or not you wanna be gawked at.”

“You stayin’ around awhile, Butler?” Doc asked.

Butler shrugged, said, “I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere. Like Wyatt I’ll be heading for California soon enough, but not for a while.”

“Where in California?” Wyatt asked.

“I thought I’d do some gambling in San Francisco.”

“Portsmouth Square?”

“Yes,” Butler said. “I heard the gambling houses there are amazing.”

“They are,” Wyatt said. “Luke Short’s been there quite a bit.”

“Been there myself,” Bat said. “It’s somethin’ to see, all right, and you’ll see some of the big names there, like Luke.”

“Dick Clark,” Wyatt said.

“Poker Alice,” Bat added.

“Ben Thompson,” Doc Holliday said.

“I played with Ben Thompson,” Butler said. “Pretty damn good poker player.”

“Best hand with a gun I ever saw,” Bat said grudgingly.

“That a fact?” Doc Holliday asked.

“So far,” Bat said.

“Speaking of poker,” Virgil said, “anybody game? I got nothin’ to do for a while.”

They all looked at one another and then Bat said, “I’ll go get a deck and some chips.”

Wyatt Earp, Virgil Earp, Doc Holliday, Bat Masterson, and Ty Butler sitting at the same table playing poker attracted some attention. Little by little men began to come into the saloon—or back into the saloon—to watch. It didn’t seem to matter that the stakes were low, people just wanted to see who was going to come out on top.

It was Virgil’s idea, so he set the rules. They all started with two hundred dollars and there were no rebuys. When you lost your stake you were out, and it was a winner-take-all competition. They all agreed.

First out was Virgil who, despite the fact that the game was his idea, was not truly a gambler. Not in the sense the others were.

“Just as well,” he announced, standing up. “My arm’s startin’ to hurt. I’m gonna see if I can get some sleep.”

He staggered a bit as he left the table. He’d been drinking whiskey for the past hour in the hopes of dulling the pain.

“Virg, you want me to walk you—”

“Naw, I’ll be fine, Wyatt,” his brother said. “You stay and take these fellas’ money. We can use it in Denver.”

Wyatt kept a wary eye on his brother until he was out the door. Suddenly, unbidden, came the memory of Morgan lying on top of a pool table while they tried to stop the bleeding from his mortal wound. Though Morg was ambushed that night, there was no reason to believe anyone in Trinidad would try to ambush Virgil.

“Why don’t you follow him?” Bat asked.

“No,” Wyatt said, “he’ll snap at me for bein’ a mother hen. Just deal the damn cards.”

Faro was Wyatt’s game, so he wasn’t embarrassed or annoyed when Butler bluffed him out of a hand and broke him about half an hour later.

“Well, at least I can go and check on Virg,” he said, standing up. “See you gents in the mornin’. Take their money, Doc.”

“Will do.”

Wyatt left, walking straight as an arrow because he had not had more than a second beer.

“Well,” Bat said, “I guess it’s just the three of us.”

He dealt the cards. They were playing five-card stud. The game had started out as dealer’s choice, but gradually they all began to deal five stud each time.

He dealt one down, one up. Doc got a king of spades, Butler an eight of hearts, and Bat a Jack of clubs.

“King bets.”

“Twenty,” Doc said.

The money left behind by the Earps was pretty evenly distributed among the three men.

“Call,” Butler said.

“My jack raises,” Bat said. “Another twenty.”

“Call,” Doc said.

“I call.”

Both Bat and Doc looked at Butler’s eight of hearts.

“Comin’ out,” Bat said. He dealt out their third card. Doc got another king, Butler a six of hearts, and Bat another jack.

“Kings bet.”

“I’ll bet into the raiser with my kings,” Doc announced. “Fifty.”

“I call,” Butler said.

“Raise,” Bat said, “another fifty.”

“Call,” Doc said.

“I call,” Butler said.

Doc and Bat looked at him, and his six and eight of hearts.

“What, I can’t call?”

“With that hand?” Doc asked.

“Three-card straight at best,” Bat said.

“Or a three-card flush.”

“Yup.”

“Why don’t you fellas pay attention to your own hands?” Butler asked.

“Okay,” Bat said, “here we go.”

He dealt them each their fourth card.

Doc’s kings did not improve with the addition of a three of diamonds.

Butler caught a five of hearts.

Bat didn’t improve on his jacks, either, when a four of clubs fell.

“Kings bet,” Bat said.

“I’ll check to the raiser,” Doc said.

“I’m feeling lucky,” Butler said. “I’ll bet a hundred.”

“What the—” Bat said. “I raise a hundred. You just bluffed Wyatt out and now you’re tryin’ it with us.”

Doc stared at Butler for a few moments, then said, “He ain’t bluffin’. He ain’t got nothin’ yet, but he ain’t
bluffin’, either. He’s really bettin’ his luck, bettin’ on the come.”

“I can see callin’ on the come,” Bat said, “but not raisin’. Whataya do, Doc?”

“I’m gonna call.”

“Last card,” Bat said, and dealt it out. He and Doc did not improve. Butler’s card busted his straight or flush, but paired his sixes.

“Kings bet,” Bat said. “Doc?”

Doc studied his hole card for a few moments, then studied Bat and Butler in turn.

“Check.”

“I bet a hundred,” Butler said.

“I raise,” Bat said.

“I fold my kings,” Doc said. “I believe one of you.”

“Which one?” Bat asked.

Doc shrugged.

“In the long run it doesn’t matter, does it? One of you has me beat. I fold, I save money.”

“I reraise, Bat,” Butler said.

Bat looked at Doc, who shrugged, then looked at Butler, who gave him nothing.

“I’m gonna call you, because I wanna see,” Bat said. Then he turned over his cards. “Beat two pair, jacks over.”

Butler turned over his hole card. It was a six of diamonds, giving him three sixes.

“No bluff,” Doc said. “Glad I folded my kings over.”

“You had me beat, too?” Bat asked, exasperated.

“Looks like it.” Doc turned over his cards to show that he was telling the truth, he had a higher two pair than Bat.

Doc started collecting the cards because he had the next deal.

“Nice hand, Butler,” Bat said.

“Thanks, Bat.”

“I’ll get you next time.”

“The next time is now,” Doc said, shuffling expertly. “Comin’ out. Five-card stud again, gents.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The game went on for hours and the three of them finally had to call it a night. The money was pretty evenly split, and Bat offered each of them a final drink before he closed the Bonanza doors.

“Well,” Doc said, over his last whiskey, “that didn’t prove much, did it?”

“It proved that Virgil’s no card player, and Wyatt should stick to faro,” Bat said.

Butler looked around. Except for Roscoe, the bartender, they were alone in the place. Doc was the only one who had to leave the building to walk to his hotel, while Butler and Bat both had rooms upstairs.

Something didn’t feel right to Butler. He looked around again. This time he thought he saw a shadow at the front window.

“Guess I better turn in,” Doc said. He’d been drinking whiskey during the game and his eyes were bloodshot. His coughing fits had been kept to a minimum. Butler wondered if the whiskey actually helped with that.

Butler put his hand on Bat’s arm.

“Something’s not right.”

“I know,” Bat said. “You walk him, I’ll go out the back.”

“Right.”

All three of them walked to the front door, where Butler said, “I need some air. I’m going to walk to the hotel with you, Doc.”

“Suit yourself,” Doc said. Suddenly, it was as if he could not keep his eyes open. Butler wondered if the man would have even made it to the hotel if he hadn’t decided to walk him.

Bat said good night and locked the doors behind them.

Trinidad’s streets had lamps to light the way, but, at the same time, lamps would cast shadows—shadows deep enough for a man to hide in.

“You felt it, too?” Doc asked as they walked.

“Yes,” Butler said. “Something…”

“You or me?” Doc asked.

“I guess it could be me,” Butler said, “but I didn’t really have to leave the building.”

“Me, then.”

“Tonight, anyway.”

“You got somebody on your trail?” Doc asked.

“You never know.”

“It’s a helluva way to live, ain’t it?”

“It’d be a hell of a way to die, too.”

They walked slowly, keeping to the boardwalk and out of the street, until they reached Doc’s hotel.

“Were we wrong?” Butler asked.

“No,” Doc said. “There were two of us. Whoever’s out there wasn’t prepared for that.”

“Bat’s out there,” Butler said.

“Maybe he’ll find them,” Doc said. He coughed, covered his mouth with a kerchief, but nothing came
up. “Okay, so you walked me back, now how about you?”

“Like I said,” Butler repeated, “Bat’s out there.”

“Still…”

“Go on, Doc,” Butler said. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Doc lingered, then said, “All right. Good night.”

“’Night.”

Doc went into the hotel, crossed the lobby, and went up the stairs. Butler waited, giving the man enough time to get to his room. When there were no shots from inside the hotel he figured Doc had made it.

Now it was his turn.

Bat had been in the shadows, walking behind Doc and Butler on the same side of the street. He kept his eyes on the other side of the street, though, thinking that if an ambush came it would be from there.

He waited while Butler and Doc talked in front of the hotel, then watched as Doc went inside. Butler started back to the Bonanza, and Bat decided to join him. He came out of the shadows and fell in beside the gambler.

“Somebody changed their mind,” he said.

“Doc felt it, too,” Butler said. “Somebody in this town has got ideas.”

“Well,” Bat said, “Wyatt and Virgil are leavin’, and Doc is stayin’.”

“So am I.”

“It’s one of you two they’re interested in,” Bat said. “I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.”

“I guess we will.”

Butler came out of the café after breakfast the next morning and encountered Bat Masterson on the street.

“A little late for breakfast for you, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Had breakfast,” Bat said. “Had it with Wyatt and Virgil. They wanted to get an early start.”

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye,” Butler said. “Still heading for Denver?”

“Yep,” Bat said, “they want to get a good doctor to take a look at Virg’s arm.”

“It’ll be a tough thing for him to be a lawman with one arm,” Butler observed.

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” Bat said. “He was saying he might go private if he can’t wear a badge anymore.”

“A detective, you mean?”

“Yeah, but that’ll come later.”

“Where are you headed now?”

“Courthouse,” Bat said. “I told Wyatt I’d check into that warrant on Doc and send him a telegram in Denver.”

“The judge you’re thinking about is in town?”

Bat nodded.

“That’s why I thought of him,” he said. “He’s here for three days. I’m gonna talk to him right now. Wanna come?”

“Don’t think I’d be any help,” Butler said, “but I’ll walk over with you.”

As they walked toward the courthouse Bat said, “Wyatt made me promise to look after Doc.”

“That’s not a job anyone would volunteer for.”

“He says Doc’s fine in a fight, but it’s the other parts of his life where he needs lookin’ after.”

“Maybe he needs a woman.”

“I thought he had one,” Bat said. “He and Big Nose Kate were together for a long time.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, and I ain’t about to ask,” Bat said. “That’s one part of a man’s life I don’t get involved in. What’s between him and his woman is between him and his woman, if you get what I mean.”

“I get it,” Butler said. “Is that something else that’s a rule with you, and not a philosophy?”

“Definitely. For me to have a philosophy I’d have to be a helluva lot better educated. Rules are easier.”

“Easier to make, maybe,” Butler said. “Not necessarily easier to stick to.”

“Sounds like you may have broken a few of your own rules along the way,” Bat said.

“Shattered, is more like it.”

“Well, if you’re gonna break a rule,” Bat agreed, “you might as well shatter it.”

They reached the courthouse, a two-story brick building.

“I won’t bother going in with you,” Butler said. There was a wooden bench right in front. “I’ll sit here and wait, and watch the folks go by.”

“Suit yourself,” Bat said. “Shouldn’t take me long to present my case to Judge Abernathy.”

“You been here a matter of months and already you’ve got a judge beholding to you?”

“You just got to be in the right place at the right time.” Bat opened the door to enter, then turned to Butler. “There’s a place right down the block if you get a hankerin’ for another cup of coffee. Don’t eat there, but the coffee’s decent.”

“I’ll remember.”

“Doc’s not up yet?”

“I don’t know,” Butler said. “I didn’t think to check.”

“That’s okay,” Bat said. “I’m the one supposed to be checkin’ up on him. Okay, let me get this over with.”

Bat went inside, the door closing loudly behind him. Butler thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t been the first one to see Wyatt Earp that morning. He would not have wanted to be saddled with the job of looking out for Doc Holliday—although, that’s what he had been doing the night before, walking the man back to his hotel. Still, that had been willingly, and not a responsibility put on him by a friend.

Butler watched as townspeople walked by, stores opened. Men eyed him suspiciously, women looked at him with a mixture of feelings. Could have been anything going through their minds from Who is that man to Why can’t my husband dress that nice early in the day.

The street began to fill with traffic, men on horses, men and women riding buckboards or buggies into town to do their shopping. Butler found his mind going back to the deputy’s badge sitting on the stove in Bat’s office. He wondered if Bat had left it there, if it would
melt the longer it sat there. He never once thought about pinning it on, though. He was a gambler, not a lawman. He’d leave mixing those two occupations to the likes of the Mastersons and the Earps.

After about half an hour of watching the town wake up, he began to get restless. He was thinking about going down the street for that extra cup of coffee when the front door opened and Bat came out.

“How did it go?”

“It took some doin’,” Bat said, “but I got him to see it my way.”

“He’ll swear out the warrant?”

Bat nodded. “I should have it later today.”

“That’s good news for Bat, and a load off of Wyatt’s mind once you send him a telegram.”

“I’ll send that today, too, have it waitin’ for him when he gets there. Now, I could use a cup of coffee. Walk down the street with me?”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”