“Not gonna be a problem with Peacock?” Kelley asked.
A. J. Peacock and Jim Masterson had entered into partnership of the Lady Gay several months earlier, and that partnership was teetering on uneasy ground.
“Fuck Peacock,” Jim said. “I’m still half owner of the Gay. I’ll meet you boys over there as soon as I clear out my desk.”
“I’ll find George and Fred,” Kelley said. “Invite them to join us.”
True to his word Neal Brown left the office carrying only his rifle. He truly did not have much to clear out.
Once his friends were gone Jim Masterson sat down for the last time behind his desk. He’d had a decent run, having worn the marshal’s badge since November of ’79. He wasn’t quite ready to leave Dodge, though. He may not have been the law anymore, but he was still owner of the Lady Gay Saloon and Dance Hall—albeit half owner with Peacock.
He didn’t know why Peacock was being so pigheaded about his brother-in-law, Al Updegraff. Peacock had hired him as a bartender as soon as they took possession of the Lady Gay, and the man was a lush, guzzling as much free whiskey as he could while he worked. Jim had wanted to fire the man, but Peacock would have none of it, and now Updegraff was a serious bone of contention between the two. Clearly, the man sided with his brother- in-law, and the rift between them was growing—and growing untenable.
Fuck it, he thought, I really do need a drink.
Tyrone Butler came riding down Front Street as Jim Masterson entered the Lady Gay Saloon. Having never been to Dodge before, Butler was impressed by the town’s history as “Queen of the Cow Towns.” A student of history, he also knew that the title passed from town to town, belonging at one time to Ellsworth and Wichita as well as Dodge. Dodge, however, counted Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterson as part of her history—as well as buffalo hunting, dead lawmen, and plenty of gamblers. It was not only one of the great cow towns, but one of the great gambling towns, with a collection of saloons and dance halls. The Long Branch and Alhambra were famous, the Lady Gay—which he was riding past—just slightly less so. Butler didn’t know it, but at one time, back when Wyatt Earp was hired to bring law to Dodge City, there were nineteen establishments in town that served liquor. That number now was significantly less.
But he was pleased to see that the Long Branch and Lady Gay were still in operation. He wanted to play poker in both of those saloons before he left Dodge.
But he’d only just arrived, and he had to see to first things first—like taking Stupid to the livery, and getting himself a hotel room.
Jim Masterson joined Neal Brown and Dog Kelly at their table, after getting himself a beer from the bar. Thankfully, Al Updegraff was not on duty yet.
“Well,” he said, “looks like the first afternoon in a long while we all have time free.”
Dog Kelly rubbed his hands over his face.
“At least you fellas have your places,” Neal Brown said. They were sitting in Masterson’s place, and Dog Kelley owned the Alhambra. In fact, when James “Dog” Kelley first erected the Alhambra on Front Street, it was one of the first buildings in Dodge—there still wasn’t much but Front Street. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
“You can work for me here,” Jim Masterson said.
“Or for me at the Alhambra,” Kelley said.
“What would I do?” Neal asked. “Tend bar? Be a swamper? I’m a lawman, damn it.”
Jim nodded. Aside from owning the Lady Gay he’d worn a badge most of his life. His brother Ed had died right here in Dodge, shot while wearing a badge, and Bat had worn the star in Dodge and other places for years. Maybe it was time to get out from behind the tin star for good.
“Well, I’m gonna put some more of my time into this place.”
“Whataya gonna do first?” Neal Brown asked.
“I’m gonna get rid of Al Updegraff.”
“I don’t think your partner will be too thrilled about that,” Kelley said. “How you gonna work that out?”
“I don’t know,” Jim said. “Peacock’s bein’ goddamned stubborn about this.”
“Put a bullet in the useless bastard,” Neal said, speaking of Updegraff, “that oughtta take care of the situation.”
“Kill him?” Kelley asked.
“I didn’t say kill ’im,” Brown said. “Just…nick ’im a bit, get him off his feet and out from behind the bar.”
“I’m tempted,” Jim said, “I truly am.”
“Why don’t you sell out,” Kelley said, “come in with me and Pete at the Alhambra?”
Pete Beatty was Kelley’s partner, and they got along a lot better than Jim and Peacock did.
“I wouldn’t wanna be the cause of you and Pete fallin’ out,” Jim said. “Naw, I’ll stick it out here.”
“What about Bat?” Brown asked.
“What about him?”
“You fellas still not talkin’?”
Jim didn’t answer. As well as Neal Brown and Dog Kelley knew the Mastersons, neither of them knew the bone of contention that existed between the brothers, at the moment.
“Where is Bat, these days?” Kelley asked.
“Heard he was in Tombstone, with Wyatt,” Jim said.
“Tombstone,” Brown said. “There’s an idea. Think he needs a deputy?’
“Wyatt’s the law there, deputy to Virgil, along with Morgan,” Jim said. “Don’t know that Bat’s even wearin’ a badge. Doc Holliday’s there, too.”
“Holliday?” Brown said, with distaste. “Reckon I’ll stay here, then. That sonofabitch is crazy.”
“So it’s back to here, then,” Jim said.
“Maybe the new mayor will give you a job, Neal?” Kelley asked. “He’s gonna need experienced men.”
“Wonder who the new city marshal’s gonna be?” Brown asked.
“Guess we’ll all just have to wait to find out,” Jim said. “You fellas want another beer? I’m buyin’.”
“Only if you’ll come over to the Alhambra later and allow me to return the favor,” Dog Kelley said.
“Done!” Jim said, and headed for the bar to get three more beers.
CHAPTER 7
Tyrone Butler walked along Front Street, wishing he’d been in Dodge eight or ten years ago. He had gotten himself a room at the Dodge House, and was happy to see the Delmonico Restaurant was still open. He decided to go first to the Alhambra for a beer and a look, and then he’d return to the Delmonico for a steak.
While Dodge was no longer the cow town it once was, it was obvious as soon as he walked through the Alhambra doors that the town still attracted the gamblers. The faro, roulette, and craps tables were in full swing, and off in one corner he could see two poker games going.
He went to the mile-long bar and waited for the bartender to make his way from the other end.
“What’ll it be?” the man asked.
“Cold beer.”
“Comin’ up.”
The bartender drew a mug of cold beer and carried it over to Butler.
“Gambler?” he asked.
“Does it show?” Butler asked.
“All over you. What’s your game?”
“Poker.” Butler sipped the beer, found it ice cold.
“You’ll find what you want here.”
“I’m going to get a steak first.”
“The Delmonico,” the bartender said. “Can’t beat it.”
