“You’re on,” Butler said.
He had a feeling he knew who was going to be doing the buying.
CHAPTER 4
Butler found a smaller bar upstairs, got himself another cold beer to carry around as he looked the place over. Every table was filled to capacity, but there always seemed to be room for one more, especially at the roulette wheels and the crap tables. All the seats were filled at the blackjack and faro tables. The only place he could have gambled with cards seemed to be the red dog table, but he wasn’t interested.
There were women working the floor, carrying drinks and carrying on with the men, distracting them from their gambling any way they could. It was a good ploy for the house, getting the players liquored up, or just getting them thinking about something else—like what was going on in their pants.
Butler was a serious poker player. He didn’t drink to excess at the table, and if a woman wanted his attention she was going to have to wait until he was finished with his business.
He was nursing the beer he had now because he’d had one downstairs already. If he ended up in a poker game tonight, his head had to be clear.
He kept his eyes open for Luke Short. Bat Masterson had described Short as a natty little dresser, prone to wearing a silk top hat and carrying a walking stick. He also told Butler that “Little Luke” was a hell of a man to have behind you in a fight. He said a lot of men had been fooled by Short’s size.
Armed with this description, Butler was able to spot Luke Short with no problem. Sporting both the silk hat and cane, the man was working his way through the assemblage of gamblers, slapping some on the back, exchanging waves with others. He seemed to be very popular with the gamblers.
Butler wasn’t sure how to play this. Should he approach Short and announce their mutual friendship with both Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp? Or just wait and see if he could impress him, attract Short’s attention through his normal play?
Butler decided to take another look at the poker tables. Maybe he’d see somebody he knew, somebody who could simply introduce him to Luke Short. But not only did he not find anyone who would fit that bill, there were no open chairs at the table. He watched for a while, but it soon became clear that there were no professionals in the bunch. He could have waited for an open chair and fleeced some sheep, but there was no challenge in that.
He needed to find a real game. That was what he came to the White Elephant for.
“You don’t look happy,” someone said.
He turned and found Luke Short standing next to him, looking amused.
“Luke Short,” Butler said, surprised.
“You know me?” Short said.
“Just by reputation, and a friend described you to me.”
“A friend?”
“Bat Masterson.” Hell, why not? It had fallen in his lap.
Now Short looked surprised.
“You know Bat? Where from?”
“Dodge City,” Butler said. “I was there with Jim for a little while, and then Bat. Later Trinidad, and then Denver.”
“The Doc Holliday thing in Denver?”
“That’s right.”
Now Short looked delighted.
“You’re Butler.”
“That’s right.”
“Tyrone Butler, if I remember correctly.”
“Yes.”
“Sir, what a pleasure! Why, I must have just missed you in Dodge.”
Short stuck out his hand and Butler shook it.
“How long have you been here? Why didn’t you look me up?” Short demanded.
“I just arrived today, and I had no idea you’d know who I am,” Butler said.
“I have seen Bat since that thing in Denver and he told me all about you. Seems you’re the main reason Jim is still alive, and perhaps even Doc Holliday—though barely.”
“Bat gives me too much credit.”
“Nonsense,” Short said. “You are modest. Bat speaks the truth about the men he’s met. It’s the only reason he admits that Ben Thompson is the best man he’s ever seen with a gun.” Short made a face. “Believe me, none of us like to admit that.”
“This is quite a place,” Butler said, to change the subject. “Why did you happen to walk over to me?”
“Well, you were starin’ at the poker tables, lookin’ so forlorn. I knew it must be because you didn’t approve of the talent. That, or you couldn’t wait to sit down and take the money.”
“There’s not enough talent—or money—here to make it worthwhile.” Butler hoped he didn’t sound too full of himself.
“Well,” Luke Short said, taking Butler by the arm and leading him away, “we can fix that.”
CHAPTER 5
Butler was surprised at how quickly his fortunes had changed. In truth, it probably would not have happened had Luke Short not been desperately looking for some high-stakes poker players.
Short admitted as much as he walked Butler to one of the private rooms.
“I’m afraid I’ve been driven to trollin’ for poker players,” he said. “When I saw your face I knew you were disappointed in what you were seein’.”
“Well,” Butler replied, “since we’re telling the truth, I was trying to figure out how to get invited into one of your games. I’d been told by a bartender downstairs, and one of your customers, that it was almost impossible.”
“Which customer?”
“A fella named Newman? Al Newman. Said he was a lawyer who once ran—”
“—for district attorney, yes. My partner, Bill Ward, has been tryin’ to get me to let Newman into one of the games.”
“Yes, he said he was friends with Ward, and that didn’t help.”
“Doesn’t help, doesn’t hurt,” Short said. “I’m afraid Mr. Newman is just not up to the caliber of player I’m lookin’ for.”
“What makes you think I am?”
“Let’s just say that Bat gave you his all-around endorsement. Here we are.”
Short opened a door and allowed Butler to precede him into the room. Inside he saw one table with five men seated at it. There was one extra, empty chair.
“Usually I fill this game out myself,” Short said. “I was close to doing that tonight. In fact, I was close to letting Al Newman in, but now I have you.”
Butler almost felt bad, as if he was taking the seat right out from under Al Newman.
Short took Butler up to the table, waited for the hand that was in progress to be completed, and then introduced him.
“Gents, this young feller is Tyrone Butler, a good friend of mine and of Bat Masterson’s.”
That was one way to get people’s attention, and it worked.
