[9]
Doc held the bottle he’d been given by the neck and dragged it along with him to a table with only one other occupied chair. The crowd inside the Busted Flush was thinning a bit, but there were more than enough people left to provide ample cover for a man who clearly wanted some time to himself.
After sitting down and putting his bottle in front of him, Doc reached for his glass. Unfortunately, the glass he was looking for was still on the bar where he’d left it. “Damn it,” Doc muttered. Meeting the curious gaze of the gray-haired gentleman sitting across the table from him, Doc lifted his bottle and tipped it back to pour some whiskey straight down his throat. By the time he set the bottle down again, the other man was gone.
Letting out a satisfied sigh, Doc felt a scratch at the back of his throat and clenched for the coughing fit that he knew was closing in on him. He snatched a handkerchief from his breast pocket and draped it over the back of his hand with a well-practiced flip of his wrist. Hacking a few times into the folded linen, Doc drowned the remaining coughs with whiskey and sighed again as the fit subsided.
Lifting the bottle once more, Doc swirled the whiskey inside and took quick measure of how much was left. Before he could take another swig, he spotted a well-dressed gentleman working his way through the crowd. Doc’s light blue eyes fixed upon the man with the freshly trimmed beard and fashionable, navy blue suit.
“Good evening, Henry.”
Doc smirked at that and replied, “Evening, John.”
John Seegar was one of the few people who called Doc by his middle name. It seemed to be appropriate since the fifty-year-old dentist shared Doc’s first name and cut down on some confusion since both men also shared the same dental practice on Elm Street.
After settling himself into the chair, Seegar pulled in a breath and then winced as if he’d instantly regretted it. “Normally you spend your nights at the St. Charles.”
“They do host better games over there.”
“Yes. Indeed.”
A few awkward moments passed as Seegar squirmed and stared down at his hands, which were picking at a stray splinter on the table in front of him. Finally, the older dentist looked up and caught Doc taking another drink. “What the hell are you doing, Henry?”
“I’m having a drink. Care to join me?”
“Thank you, no. What I meant to ask was, what are you doing to yourself? You know I don’t approve of the way you spend your nights, but surely you can see that this isn’t—”
At that moment, the front door was kicked open, and the odd-looking trio of men shouted across the saloon to catch Caleb’s attention. Doc’s eyes went over to the bulky man and immediately picked out the miner who’d sat in on the poker game with himself, Mike Abel, and Virgil Ellis.
Although Doc started to get up, he was stopped by the stern look etched onto Seegar’s face. Seeing Caleb stride through the crowd and step up to the two armed men and the older miner was enough to put Doc somewhat at ease. It seemed Caleb was confident enough talking to the men on his own.
“Are you going to answer me?” Seegar asked. Although he’d noticed the noisy entrance of the three men, he regarded it as just another vulgar display that was all too common in such places as the Busted Flush.
“I do my job,” Doc replied as he sank back into his chair.
“Just barely.” Softening his voice, he added, “You’re a fine dentist, Henry. It’s just that lately you’ve allowed your nightlife to interfere. I mean, do I really need to point this out to you?”
Doc’s grip tightened around the neck of the bottle. “You’ve always stood by me, John. That’s why you should know that I can’t just go about like I have a nice, cheery future in front of me.”
“You certainly won’t have a future if you keep pouring that liquor down your throat.”
“I don’t know if I’ll live to see next Christmas, and my nightlife doesn’t have much to do with it.”
Seegar nodded solemnly. “Your consumption doesn’t bother you as much out here in Texas as it did in Georgia. You told me so, yourself.”
“When I first got to Dallas, maybe. But that was a year ago. Besides, you don’t have to be a doctor to know that the reaper will find me here just as surely as he would have found me back home. I don’t see any reason why I should sit back and wait quietly for the inevitable.”
“I always admired that fighting spirit. Henry. But how are you so certain what’s inevitable and what isn’t?”
More than any other time, Doc felt like a kid when he was in Seegar’s presence. That much was clear to see in the way he sat as if deferring to the older man. His cool blue eyes were fixed upon a spot on the table, and a grim expression remained a part of his face.
“Remember when you first came to Dallas?” Seegar asked. “I met you at the train station and took you home to meet Martha and the kids. We felt like a real family right from the start. Dr. Hape in Atlanta couldn’t recommend you highly enough, and I was more than happy to take on a young man like yourself with such promising credentials.”
“I remember, John. It wasn’t that long ago.”
Seegar nodded. “No, it wasn’t that long ago, but a lot has happened in the meantime. We had a great practice. An award-winning practice, no less,” he added with a proud smile. “Ever since then, you’ve been drinking and gambling as though it’s going out of season. Even though you won’t come with me and the family to church, I know you were raised better than that.”
“I was just raised Methodist,” Doc said. “It’s not a disease, you know.”
Welcoming Doc’s dry wit the way a starving man welcomed Thanksgiving dinner, Seegar nodded and laughed heartily. After easing back so he could take a look around the saloon, Seegar eventually let his eyes settle upon Doc. This time, Holliday had no problem meeting his gaze.
“You’re slipping, Henry,” Seegar said in a level voice. “I wish there was a better way to put it, but I won’t insult your intelligence by skirting the issue.”
“Is that what you came here for?”
“I think you already know it is.”
Doc lifted the bottle partly to his lips but set it down again without tasting a drop. “I did have a notion. Your forehead wrinkles when you’re worried about business. That, and when you’re about to tell someone they need to get all their teeth pulled.”
Seegar chuckled. “Guess I couldn’t make it too well as a gambler, huh?”
Smirking, Doc replied, “I’d be more than happy to play some high-stakes games against you. Of course, I don’t exactly know what I’d do after winning the practice as well as your house and life savings after a solid half hour of poker.”
“It’d probably be closer to ten minutes. Speaking of that, I’ve heard you’ve become quite the professional where gambling is concerned.”
“I’ve been known to dabble. I find that the games I played as a child around the kitchen table were twice as cutthroat as anything you’re likely to find in a gaming parlor.”
“Used to be that when I heard folks talking about you around here, they’d mention your professionalism as a dentist or even those imported clothes you like to wear. Anymore, I hear people discussing all-night poker games at the St. Charles Saloon or you dealing faro at the Alhambra.”
“There’s just as much respect to be earned being a sporting man as in pulling teeth,” Doc said with a current of annoyance running beneath his tone.
This time, when Seegar spoke, he punctuated his words by knocking his fist against the table. “Dentistry is a respected profession. You went to school for it, and you’ve still got a commitment to your cousin where that is concerned. Or have you already forgotten about Robert?”
Doc’s eyes snapped into sharp focus as they locked onto Dr. Seegar. “Robert can handle himself just fine, and if you’re suggesting I would have any part in harming his future—”
“I know you wouldn’t intend on hurting Robert,” Seegar quickly amended. “But weren’t the two of you going to open a practice once he graduated from his own studies?”
Doc nodded.
