that looked as if it had been sketched under his nose using a pencil and ruler.
“You should see a doctor about that,” Bret said.
“I don’t like doctors.”
“Then quit crying like a woman and tell me what happened.”
Although he immediately regretted his refusal of treatment, Jim stuck by his posturing and proceeded to lay out a quick account of his recent visit to the Busted Flush. “And when I tried to have a word with that Injun, he pulled me over the bar and took me outside to threaten my life.”
“All without merit, I suppose?”
“Yeah, Bret. I was just meaning to talk.”
Bret looked Jim up and down before nodding. “I see you’re not wearing a gun. What about that pig sticker you keep under your shirt?”
“Huh?”
“The knife,” Bret said in a tone of voice that cut just as well as the weapon in question. “What about the knife you’re so fond of carrying?”
“You told us not to go in there with weapons, so—”
Without another word, Bret reached out to grab hold of Jim by the hump on his back. When Jim started to protest, Bret’s other hand flashed out to wrap around Jim’s broken wrist so he could give it a quick squeeze. Whatever Jim was going to do or say was quickly eclipsed by the pain that engulfed him. After the humpback had dropped to one knee, Bret pushed him over and pulled the back of Jim’s shirt up enough to see the empty scabbard tucked under his belt.
“You brought that knife in with you?” Bret asked in a cool, detached voice.
“I didn’t . . . carry any weapon!”
“If that’s the case, the scabbard wouldn’t be here. Where’s the knife?” When he didn’t get an answer as quickly as he would have liked, Bret placed one boot against Jim’s broken wrist and pressed down as if he was mashing out a cigarette. “Where’s the knife, Jim?”
“The Injun took it from me!” Jim squealed.
“Did you pull it when he hauled you out of the Flush?”
“Yeah! I cut him, too, but he got the knife from me!”
“Is that how your hand got busted?”
Tears were welling up in Jim’s eyes, and he hung his head even lower when he saw how many people were turning to get a look at what was going on. “Y ... yeah. That’s how it happened.”
And, just like that, Bret’s boot was no longer pushing down against Jim’s broken bones. In fact, Bret was helping the humpback to his feet and dusting him off. Smiling more to the customers that were looking on, he motioned for Charlie to come closer. “Get this man another drink.”
Leaning in so only Jim and Kyle could hear him, Bret whispered, “You see how much easier things go when you’re straight with me?”
Since he was in too much pain and too embarrassed to speak, Jim merely nodded.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Weeks,” Kyle said.
Bret helped Jim over to the door and even assisted in getting the humpback’s arm draped over his cousin’s shoulders. “You’d better have something more to show for your actions tonight, and I’d better hear about it before we get to the doctor. Otherwise, I’ll make the pain you’re feeling now feel like a fucking siesta.”
“I know you told us not to go over there,” Jim wheezed. “But I couldn’t just—”
“It’s not too far to the doctor’s,” Bret warned.
After sucking in a few breaths and shaking off his cousin’s efforts to help him walk, Jim pulled in his wounded arm and staggered down Main Street alongside Bret and Kyle. “There was a good turnout. Plenty of card games going on.”
“There’s a tournament kicking off,” Bret said. “You need to do better than that.”
Jim’s eyes darted back and forth in their sockets as if he was frantically trying to find salvation in the boardwalk under his feet. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, and a hopeful smile jumped onto his face. “Doc Holliday was there!”
“Holliday’s been gambling plenty lately. Keep trying.”
“No. Not just gambling. He was dealing faro.”
Reflexively, Bret glanced back in the direction of the Busted Flush. “Is that so?”
“I saw him when I was walking in. Holliday was sitting behind a faro table getting all set up to open for business.”
Bret’s eyes narrowed as he shifted his stare back to the street in front of him. “Now that is interesting. Did he have any part of what happened to you?”
Jim shook his head. “No, it was all that Injun’s doing.”
Although he’d been fairly silent this whole time, Kyle was unable to hold his tongue any longer. “We can’t let this pass, Mr. Weeks. I know we was supposed to steer clear of that place, but we can’t let that Injun think that he can walk all over us like this.”
“Us?” Bret asked with amusement. “The only one that got trampled was Jim, here, and that’s only because he had to go off on his own to talk tough when he should have kept his damn mouth shut. I’ve been working at this for too long to have the likes of you two muck it up now.”
“Yeah, but—”
Weeks silenced Kyle with a quickly upraised hand. “But, since a move’s already been made, there’s no need to let it end there. This didn’t fit into my timetable, but it was something that was to happen eventually.”
The bald man’s brow formed a sharp ridge over his eyes that all but hid them completely from view. What little could be seen made it obvious to anyone with eyes of their own that Weeks was sifting through more than just the ramblings of a humpback and his fat cousin.
“I know I messed up,” Jim sputtered. “But that was only because I was caught by surprise. The next time I go back in there, I can clean that Injun out of that place for good, and we can get that other bartender to fall right in line with us.”
“Tell you what,” Weeks said. “Get that hand patched up, and then we’ll see about letting you go back to that saloon to have a word with Caleb Wayfinder. Maybe this time, you shouldn’t go it alone.”
Jim’s eyes lit up, and he practically started to dance right there in the street. “I know if I take some of the others with me, we won’t have a lick of trouble!”
“Just don’t make a move without letting me know. There are some other preparations that need to be made.”
“Yes, sir. I swear I won’t.”
They approached the darkened storefront rented by one of Dallas’s physicians. It wasn’t the biggest or most respected place in town, but it was closest to the St. Charles, which was all that concerned Bret Weeks. After rapping on the side door long enough to wake the doctor who worked and slept there, Weeks and Kyle left Jim to get his hand seen to and then started retracing their steps down Main.
“I want to go with Jimmy next time,” Kyle said. “He needs someone to watch out for him. I’ll make sure he don’t do anything stupid.”
“What you need to do is look up a friend of mine.”
“Huh? No. If Jim’s going back to break up that saloon, then I want to be there, too.”
“The friend I’m referring to lives a few days’ ride from here,” Weeks went on to say as if Kyle hadn’t said a word in the meantime. “You’ll just head south from town and stay on the road right until the last minute. I’ll be sure to draw you a map so you don’t miss it.”
“But Jim will—”
“Jim will do just fine on his own,” Weeks interrupted. “My boys will be right there with him to keep him in line. Our deal was that you, your cousin, and your uncle all do as I say, or none of you will see a dime. When you came to me, I told you I could make all of you prosperous men. None of that will happen unless you can take orders. You understand me?”
Reluctantly, Kyle nodded.
“Good. Speaking of your uncle, what has he been doing lately?”
Muttering like a pouting child, Kyle replied, “Still digging in the dirt. What little dust he finds just gets pissed
