night’s out anyhow.”
If Doc was rattled by anything that had come from Mike’s mouth, he gave no indication. Instead, he merely nodded and signaled toward the bar for a drink. “All right then. Let’s play some cards.”
[5]
In the time it took a round of drinks to arrive at the table and for money to be traded for chips, the occupants of the chairs had done a bit of shuffling. While the three principal players of the game stayed where they were, some of the others who’d been gambling either moved to another spot or cashed themselves out altogether.
The ones who left did so with a cordial word and tip of their hat, scooping up whatever money they had and leaving as quickly as they could. That left two others besides Virgil, Mike, and Doc at the table. One of those was a young cowboy who still had fresh dust in his hair and the other was Orville, the old miner who practically lived at the Busted Flush. Going by the look on Orville’s face, he wasn’t about to miss one second of the game, no matter how many guns were present.
Virgil played the part of gracious host, engaging in small talk with anyone who cared to return the favor while rolling a silver dollar back and forth over his knuckles.
Doc quickly suppressed a coughing fit before removing the handkerchief from his breast pocket. While he did exchange a few pleasantries with Virgil, he seemed to be more concerned with getting his flask refilled and then sampling the whiskey brought to him in a separate glass. Once a few sips of liquor were in his system, the dentist eased back into his chair and got comfortable. His eyes had taken on a grayer hue and somehow seemed clearer than before he’d had his drinks.
Mike sat on the edge of his chair with his hands folded upon the table. His eyes snapped back and forth between Virgil and Doc while he nervously licked his lips. When the drinks came, he pounded back a swig of whiskey before slapping down the empty glass and refilling it. “If all I wanted was a drink, I’d be standin’ at the bar,” he grunted.
“Hear, hear,” Doc said, tapping his own glass against the table. “Since it doesn’t look like anyone else wants to join us, let’s get this show under way.”
Caleb stepped up and delivered a fresh deck of cards to the table. He spread them out and made sure everyone had a chance to count them before giving them a shuffle and stepping back. Although some players got a little impatient having to wait through that little ritual, Caleb found that enough fights were avoided that way to make it worth everyone’s while.
“Care to do the honors?” Doc asked while glancing toward Mike.
Mike’s lips curled a bit, but when he saw that Doc was pointing toward the deck of cards, he quickly brightened up. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said while reaching out to snatch the cards and deal them out. One at a time, he flipped five cards to each person at the table.
Doc accepted his cards as though he was already disappointed, picking them up and searching through them one by one. “So many choices,” he said.
The old miner beside Doc fanned out his cards and shook his head. “Wish I had that problem.”
Going by Virgil’s expression, he might as well have been looking at empty space.
The cowboy’s frown grew with every card he saw. When he’d managed to get a look at all of them, the twitch at the corner of his mouth was enough to alert anyone watching that he was less than happy with what he saw.
Mike smirked a bit when he saw his first two cards but lost his enthusiasm when he saw the other three.
Although he wasn’t making a big show of it, Doc watched everything everyone else was doing. He let his eyes stay on Mike, however, as he shook his head and said, “Two high cards but no pair? I hate when that happens.”
“What’d you do, Holliday? Mark these cards? You workin’ with that Injun saloon owner?”
“He doesn’t have to be working with anyone,” Virgil said. “Not so long as you’re willing to air out your business for everyone to see. Why don’t you just save a step and hold your cards the other way around?”
Before Mike could say another word, he was distracted by the sound of laughter coming from his right. When he looked over, he found the cowboy snickering while trying to keep his eyes on his cards.
“You think that’s funny?”
Saving the cowboy from having to dig himself out of a hole, Doc tossed in a chip and was immediately raised by the miner next to him.
“Got a hold of a hand, Orville?” Doc asked.
The miner shrugged, seeming to get a kick out of Doc’s banter while also trying not to respond to it. Apparently, Holliday saw something in the other man’s demeanor, since he nodded to himself and watched as the others tossed in enough to match the bet.
“I suppose I’ll call,” Doc sighed. “I’ll also take two more cards.” He flipped his discards over to Mike and sipped his whiskey.
Following suit, the miner grunted, “Three for me.”
“I’ll take the same,” said Virgil.
After suppressing the rest of his laughter, the cowboy flipped away two of his cards and waited for the replacements.
“Dealer takes two,” Mike said, stressing the last word and glaring over at Doc.
The dentist shrugged without even looking over to Mike. “No need to keep hold of that third card on my account.”
Doc hardly even looked at his two new cards before reaching for his chips and tossing a handful into the pot.
“Ten dollars?” the cowboy asked.
The miner was the one to respond first. “I’ll cover that.” “Me, too,” Virgil said. “And another five just to make it interesting.” Both he and Doc looked over to the cowboy.
The cowboy pulled in a breath and took a look at his cards. Although the first one met with his satisfaction, the final one caused his face to drop almost to the floor. “Aw hell. I fold.”
Mike’s expression was smug, and his grin was about as convincing as a wooden nickel. “I’ll see the bet . . . and raise it twenty.”
Doc made a show out of studying the pile of chips at the center of the table. Every so often, he would check the cards in his hand and then lay them facedown in front of him before taking another pull from his whiskey.
“Come on, Holliday,” Mike said impatiently. “You in or out?”
Finally, after fretting a little while longer, Doc asked, “So that’s sixty to me?”
Mike looked confused and added the numbers in his head one more time.
Before Mike’s arithmetic was complete, Virgil laughed and said, “Not quite, Doc.”
“Oh,” Holliday replied. “Then that’ll be sixty to you,” he said to the miner while shoving in the proper amount of chips.
The old man sifted through his cards, weighed the options in his mind and then let out a pained grunt. “The missus will kill me, but I can’t lay these beauties down just yet.” He matched the bet and looked over to Virgil. “Besides,” he said while tapping some papers folded in his shirt pocket, “I got enough collateral to have some fun tonight.”
The gambler leaned back in his chair and studied his opponents one at a time. His left hand lay on the table, rolling the silver dollar across his knuckles while he took his time deliberating. All around him, the air was filled with voices, smoke, and some music that was being played by a man with a banjo over in one corner.
Caleb watched the scene as well. While he wasn’t involved with the game, he was ready to step in if the need arose. So far, it seemed as though it was the gambler’s show, and he was handling it like a professional.
“Sixty?” Virgil asked.
Mike slapped the table to let out some of the frustration that had been building inside of him like steam in a piston. “You know it is! Get on with it!”
Without reacting in the least to Mike’s outburst, Virgil fixed his eyes upon the man currently acting as dealer
