Looking in the direction where Hank was pointing, Doc spotted a table against the far wall that was sectioned off with rope.
“Holly’s to be your lookout,” Hank said.
“Fine. Hopefully she’ll be able to keep her eyes on the cards instead of the dealer.”
“That’s what she gets paid for,” Hank replied. After Doc had turned and walked through the room, the barkeep shook his head and stepped up to the door leading into Caleb’s office. He knocked and stepped inside to find Caleb already jumping out of his seat. “Dr. Holliday is here.”
Caleb smiled and stepped around his desk. “Great. Did you show him to his table?”
“Yep. He brought his own setup and is getting situated now.”
“Perfect.”
“I don’t know about all this, Caleb. I mean, Holliday has a reputation around Dallas that don’t have a thing to do with his dental practice.”
“In case you haven’t heard, I’ve been getting a reputation myself after Mike Abel got himself killed in here.”
“How about a little respect? You were the one that killed him, after all.”
“Don’t start preaching to me,” Caleb grunted. “What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway?”
“Just what I said. Something about having Holliday in here don’t set well.”
“You’re just hungry. Go have some supper and leave the Flush to me. You’ve earned a night off. Besides,” Caleb added, “you always get nervous when we hold poker tournaments.”
“I guess it’s the gamblers. They all wear guns and don’t mind using them.”
Caleb waved off those words and walked past Hank. “Then you chose the wrong line of work, my friend. Spend a night alone with your wife, and maybe you’ll feel better come the morning.”
Hank nodded and grinned. “You may be right about that. Just be sure to let Holly know all that goes into watching over a faro game.”
“She’s done it a few times. Now will you get out of here before a rush comes in and you’re forced to stay?”
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.”
But Caleb seemed to have already forgotten about the barkeep in his rush to get up front. It always got busy on tournament nights. Although the rush usually petered out after most of the locals realized just how unlucky they were, Caleb never missed those first few hours.
Nights like those were the ones that had gotten Caleb into the saloon business in the first place. There simply wasn’t anything to compare with the feeling of gambling for more money than most folks saw in months of back- breaking work. The whiskey tasted better when it was poured between shuffles by a smiling woman leaning over your shoulder. The same old songs from the same piano sounded better when that music drifted through the smoky air and mingled with all those raised voices.
Anything could happen on nights like those. Fortunes could be won or lost. Bullets could fly. Romance could bloom. All of that and more seemed possible when Caleb tied that apron around his waist and stepped up to his bar. The only way for it to get any better was if he was the one sitting at a table, planning his next bluff or testing his luck against the tricky turns of fate.
“Gimme another!” shouted Thirsty from his spot at the end of the bar.
Caleb looked over to the regular and asked, “What’re you drinking tonight? Beer or whiskey?”
“W ... whis . . .” Rather than complete his order, Thirsty opened his mouth, leaned over, and dumped his last two meals onto the floor. “Whiskey!” he shouted after swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. From there, he wobbled on his feet and slumped forward to use the bar as his pillow.
So much for the bright side of saloon ownership.
Caleb dropped some rags onto the floor to stop the pungent fluids from spreading while one of the other bar- tenders went to fetch a bucket and mop.
“While you’re down there,” came a voice from the other side of the bar, “why don’t you shine my boots?”
Caleb looked up with his toe still pressing a rag into the puke when he got a look at a very unwelcome sight. The humpback leaned against the bar with a leering grin upon his ugly face and a full week’s worth of uneven stubble around his crooked mouth.
“If you’re here to talk some more trash to me about paying off your uncle, you can turn right around and leave,” Caleb said.
Jim shook his head. “Too late for that. And it’s too late for no more of yer reward offers, too.”
“Good, because that offer’s not good anymore.”
“Deal’s changed, asshole. Me’n my cousin got some real backing now, so you’d best step in line before you end up dead.”
Caleb straightened up and leaned forward. Although that put him close enough to choke on Jim’s stench, it also put him within easy reach of the polished club nestled just under the bar. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me, cocksucker. You either hand over the shares of this here place, or you won’t have it no more.”
“Get out of here before you’re tossed out.”
“Oh? And who’s gonna do that? Y—”
Jim was unable to finish his sentence because he was already being dragged over the bar and tossed into the chunky puddle that Thirsty had spewed onto the floor.
Keeping one hand firmly clenched around the front of Jim’s shirt, Caleb shoved the humpback down until he’d dipped every bit of his face into the puke. “You need to learn what happens when you push a man too many times, Jim.”
Caleb pounded Jim’s face into the puke once more.
“It’s an ugly thing. Wouldn’t you agree?”
As soon as Jim had a moment to suck in a dry breath, he squirmed and struggled to break Caleb’s grip. “You son of a bitch! My uncle helped you out, and this is how you—”
Instead of being shoved into the vomit, Jim was flipped onto his back and slammed down just hard enough for the breath to be forced from his lungs. He was then dragged across the floor, kicking and swearing the entire way.
Ignoring the words that flew from Jim’s mouth, Caleb hauled the humpback to the back door and kicked it open. Jim’s shirt was starting to tear, so Caleb grabbed hold with both hands to make sure the humpback felt every wooden step as he was pulled out of the Busted Flush and dumped into the lot behind it.
“You asshole!” Jim snarled.
After shutting the door and making sure nobody was in the immediate area, Caleb clamped one hand around a fresh section of Jim’s shirt and his other hand around the humpback’s throat. He then lifted Jim to his feet and shoved him against the wall.
“What did you say to me?” Caleb asked. “You’d best think before answering, because you don’t have your lard-ass cousin here with you.”
Jim steadied himself and quickly tugged his shirt back into line. “You heard me, Injun. I said you need to sign over them shares, or you’ll wind up dead. After that, I called you an asshole.”
Caleb tightened his hand into a fist and buried it into Jim’s gut. The humpback folded around Caleb’s arm, and a loud groan filled the night air.
“Get the hell out of here, Jimmy. There’s no more business between me and your uncle. If you leave now, there won’t even be anything between you and me.”
Although Jim started to walk away, he was moving too slowly to be seriously considering Caleb’s offer. Sure enough, he reached behind him for something under his shirt at the small of his back. When his hand reappeared, it was wrapped around a slender boot knife.
Jim wore a gnarled smile as he hunkered down and lunged forward with his knife. Turning to one side, Caleb swatted at the humpback’s wrist and diverted the blade before it got anywhere close to grazing him.
“Fucking Injun!” Jim spat as he staggered for a step and then collected himself to take another swing. This time, Jim lashed out with a backhanded swipe that was surprisingly quick compared to his first attempt.
Caleb managed to hop back but wasn’t fast enough to get out unscathed. He felt the blade tear through the
