effect.”
Oddly enough, the more Caleb thought about it, the more sense Doc’s words seemed to make. “Who did you get to speak for me?”
“Just half a dozen or so people that were there when everything happened. Mays showed up like clockwork asking around about what happened. Besides the barkeep at your saloon, those others just said what happened.”
“And what about the ones that were saying I killed Mike Abel in cold blood?” Just mentioning that caused those accusations to echo through Caleb’s mind just as they had been ever since the shooting had stopped.
Doc waved off that question like it was a gnat buzzing around his head. “Forget about them. They didn’t bother showing up while Mays was poking his nose about.”
“So I’m really free?”
“You’re out here walking around, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I suppose I am.”
“Then let’s get that drink and stop fussing about the past.”
“Sounds good, Doc. I know just the place.”
It was the busiest time of the night for any saloon, but the Busted Flush was even busier than usual. The moment Caleb walked in, the entire place exploded with cheers and joyous hollers, which died down just before shots got fired into the rafters.
Caleb waded through the people, most of which he recognized, and made his way to the bar. Hank was all smiles as he reached across to slap Caleb on the shoulder like a proud father on graduation day.
“Glad to have you back, Caleb!” Hank said. “I knew you wouldn’t be gone for long!”
Caleb’s head was spinning as he looked around at the folks who were already getting back to their own revelry. “Jesus, I didn’t know so many people cared about what happened to saloon owners around here.”
As if on cue, one of the less familiar faces in the crowd shoved past Caleb and snapped his fingers to get Hank’s attention. “Hey barkeep, you still handing out them free drinks?”
Hank turned and quickly poured a splash of whiskey into one of the smallest glasses. When the other man saw that he was barely getting a finger and a half of liquor, he shrugged and downed it in one gulp. After letting out a wheezing breath followed by a twitch, the man dropped the glass and headed for the door.
“Ah,” Caleb said as he looked around at everyone crammed into the Busted Flush. “Now it makes sense.”
“We are happy to have you back, Caleb,” Hank said. “I just thought a party would brighten your spirits.”
“It did, Hank. Thanks.”
Suddenly, Hank’s eyes widened, and he put on another grin. “Is that you, Dr. Holliday?”
“It certainly is. Did I hear mention of free drinks?”
“Well, one free drink anyway. For the party. Here you go.” Hank poured the splash of whiskey into a clean glass and set it onto the bar.
Doc scooped up the glass and downed the whiskey in a fluid, practiced motion. Reacting as if he’d taken a sip of milk, Doc set the glass down and nudged it forward. “Just one, you said?”
Before Hank could respond, Caleb hopped over the bar and said, “Doc’s drinks are on the house. Every last one of them.”
Although Hank smiled amiably, he shot more than a few wary glances in Caleb’s direction. “Are you . . . uh . . . sure about that?”
“Yep.” Snapping his eyes in Doc’s direction, he added, “But just for tonight.”
“Fair enough,” the dentist replied. Then he nudged the empty glass a bit more in Hank’s direction.
Fretting to himself, Hank reached to the shelf behind the bar for one of the bottles of whiskey. After lingering for a moment, he shifted his hand toward one of the less expensive selections and placed it in front of Doc.
With the bottle in one hand and his glass in the other, Doc poured himself a generous portion and downed it in much the same way as he did the first time around. As before, he barely even flinched as the firewater burned its way through his system. Lifting his empty glass to the barkeep, Doc said, “Hank, my friend, you and I are going to get along marvelously.”
Seeing that Doc was doing just fine on his own, Hank walked toward the office in the back and motioned for Caleb to follow him. After fixing himself a drink of his own, Caleb went along happily as one of the other bar-keeps stepped in to take his place.
“When did you and Dr. Holliday get so close?” Hank asked in a quick, hurried whisper.
“We’re not blood brothers or anything, but he’s a good enough sort.”
“I’ve only seen him about town a few times, but I’ve never seen him get involved as much as he did earlier tonight when he came around here.”
“What happened?”
Taking a quick glance behind him, Hank put his back to where Doc was sitting and explained, “He asked every last soul in here about what they saw the other night and if they knew where to find the others that were here. He even came to me and asked what I’d be telling Ben Mays when he came calling.”
“I hope you intended on making me look good.”
“Of course I did,” Hank said dismissively. “But some of those others seemed more inclined to call you a murderer than anything else.”
“That’s just not true, Hank.”
“I know you’re not a killer, but some folks around here don’t like the things they’ve heard about you. Some of them point to the rougher days in your youth and say you’re a bad influence on this town.”
“Good Lord, all I ever did was get into some fights and pull some stupid shit when I was a kid. Whatever they heard about me must be a bunch of gossip. I’ve done nothing but run the Flush since I first made it to Dallas.”
Patting the air to soothe Caleb’s nerves, Hank said, “I know, I know. All I’m saying is that I was mighty surprised to hear some of them folks sing your praises to the law after they were pointing fingers at you when Loco Mike was bleeding out on the floor.”
Once again, Caleb could feel his face getting warmer. The pounding in his ears made a throbbing rhythm in his head that was almost enough to drown out the sound of his teeth grinding together. After a few breaths, Caleb looked around at the festivities around him.
“You say Doc told those people to lie?” Caleb asked.
Hank shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what they told that ranger, exactly. It was just odd to have so many people backing me up when I told what happened between you and Mike.”
“And you told the truth?”
“Sure I did.”
“Then I guess there’s no problem. After the night I had, I’m willing to take what I can get and move on from there.”
Even though Caleb was doing his best to put some feeling into the smile he was wearing, Hank wasn’t faring so well. Instead, the barkeep looked more like he’d just discovered a splinter wedged in his nether regions.
“I’m glad you’re out of jail and all,” Hank said. “But there’s been some folks asking around for you since Mays came and went.”
“One of those witnesses you were concerned about?”
Hank nodded.
Just then, the sound of the front door slamming against the wall rattled over the rest of the noise inside the saloon, followed by a snarling voice. “There’s the man I wanted to see!”
Caleb turned and saw one man practically filling the doorway with his bulk and wearing a sloppy, shit-eating grin. Coming in behind the big fellow was a smaller man witb a grimy face followed by an old man who struck Caleb as familiar.
The first two were staring daggers across the saloon, and both of them wore guns strapped around their waists.
“Let me guess,” Caleb said. “Those are the men you’re talking about?”
Hank nodded sheepishly. “Yep. That’d be them.”
