“Lots of men do.”
Harris laughed. “I’m sure those are the men you like to take money off of in poker.”
Butler turned to face Harris, beer in hand.
“I prefer to take money from men who are alert and know what they’re doing. There’s sport in that.”
“I’m sorry,” Harris said, putting his hands up in front of him, palms out. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. You’ll have to excuse me, but it’s my partner Chalk who usually, uh, deals with the public.”
“Chalk?”
“Chalky Beeson,” Harris said. “He won’t even tell me how he got that name. He and I have been partners for some time now.”
“And you get along?”
“Famously,” Harris said. “You see, we know each other’s strengths.”
“You’re from the East?” Butler asked.
“New Jersey.” W.H. Harris had come west from Long Branch, New Jersey, so when he and Chalk Beeson became partners in a saloon he called it the Long Branch.
“I can hear it.”
“And you? New York?”
“Philadelphia.”
“Close enough,” Harris said. “Well, would you like me to show you the games—”
“I don’t want to take up any more of your time, Mr. Harris,” Butler said. “I think I’ll just look around at my own leisure.”
“Very well,” Harris said. “If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. We’d like you to do your gambling here.”
“What about Ben Thompson? Does he play here?”
“Very often,” Harris said, “but Ben likes to move around. On any given night you might find him here, the Lady Gay or, as you did last night, the Alhambra.”
“Any other gamblers of note in town?” Butler asked.
Harris worked an ear with the tip of his little finger. “I heard some talk of Luke Short coming into town, but I haven’t seen him.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“If you like to cross swords with the best,” Harris said, “I can probably set up a private game upstairs.”
“Thanks for the offer,” Butler said. “I’ll let you know.”
Harris turned to the bartender. One more on the house and then he pays.” He looked at Butler.
“That’s fair,” the gambler said.
Harris nodded, turned, and walked away. He went through a door in the back of the place, which Butler assumed was an office.
“Want that second one?” the bartender asked.
“When I do,” Butler said, “I’ll wave.”
The bartender nodded, said, “That’s fair,” and went off down the bar.
CHAPTER 20
Al Updegraff was across the deadline to the red-light district, at a small saloon that served warm beer, worn-out whores, and crooked games. It was the perfect place to find the men he wanted.
He was standing at the bar, wondering what was floating on top of the beer he’d ordered, when three men entered and came up to the bar. He recognized one of them and, based on who he was, decided that he could use all three.
Red Sandland was a somtime customer at the Lady Gay and had been served beer more than once by Updegraff. Real beer, not the swill they served here.
“Hey, Red,” Updegraff said.
Sandland looked over at him, frowned, then brightened when he recognized him.
“Jesus Christ, Al,” he said, “I didn’t recognize you on this side of the bar.”
Updegraff shook hands with the man, was introduced to the other two—Dave and Willy—and offered to buy all three men a drink.
“Okay,” Sandland said, “but whiskey, not that crap they serve in place of beer. If I want a beer I’ll come over to the Lady Gay, right?”
“What are you doin’ here?” Updegraff asked, after giving the bartender the order.
“Ah, there’s a whore here gives Willy a discount. We’re gonna see if she’ll take all three of us. What’re you doin’ here?”
“I’m lookin’ for three men who want to make some money,” Updegraff said.
“Is that a fact?” Sandland asked. “Would we do?”
“I don’t know.” Updegraff picked up the bottle of whiskey the bartender had set down and poured each man a drink. “Why don’t we discuss it?”
An hour later Updegraff entered the Lady Gay and found his brother-in-law behind the bar counting bottles of whiskey.
“I didn’t steal any, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said testily.
Peacock turned and looked at him.
“I’m takin’ inventory, you ass. Did you, uh, take care of that matter we were discussing?”
“Give me a cold beer and I’ll tell you,” Updegraff said. “I gotta wash the foul taste out of my mouth first.”
Peacock drew Updegraff half a mug of beer and pushed it over to him.
Updegraff thought about arguing, then thought better of it. He picked up the beer and drained it, then briefly told Peacock about his conversation with Red Sandland and his two partners.
“And they’ll do it?” Peacock asked his brother-in-law.
“They’ll do anythin’ for money.”
“Yeah, but Al, will they do it right?”
“For that,” Updegraff said, “you’d have to pay a lot more money than you gave me.”
Peacock narrowed his eyes and stared at Updegraff suspiciously.
“Did you give them all of the money I gave you?”
“Sure I did,” Updegraff said, “what do you take me for?”
Peacock shook his head. “If you weren’t my sister’s husband,” he said, “I’d take you for dead.”
Updegraff, an ex-lawman himself, stood up straight and glared at Peacock. “You don’t wanna be talkin’ to me that way, Anthony.”
Peacock adopted the same stance and the two men stared for a good minute, both wearing guns.
“Have another beer, Al,” Peacock finally said.
“A whole one?”
“Yeah,” Peacock said, “a whole one.”
His sister would never forgive him if he killed Updegraff, and he hoped the same would be true were it the other way around.
Jim Masterson came out of the back office as Updegraff and Peacock were staring each other down. He stood and watched, hoping the two would go for their guns and solve his problems for him—at least some of them. If Peacock killed Updegraff, he wouldn’t have to put up with the drunken fool anymore. If it happened the other way around, he wouldn’t have to try to figure out what to do about his partnership with Peacock. The man wanted to buy him out, but Masterson didn’t want to do that, especially since he’d lost his job as city marshal. And he didn’t have the money to buy Peacock out.
He waited, hoping that guns would clear leather, but in the end Peacock gave Updegraff a beer, which the other man downed quickly before taking his leave.
Masterson walked up to Peacock and asked, “What was that all about?”
Peacock looked around quickly, wondered how much his partner had seen or heard?
“Family business,” he said.
“It looked pretty serious,” Masterson said, “Thought you two were gonna come to blows.”
“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t ya, Jim? Maybe get rid of one of us that way?”
“Now, Anthony,” Masterson asked, “Why would I want to get rid of you?”
Peacock laughed and asked, “Drink?”
“Why not.”
“Whiskey?”
Masterson nodded. Peacock poured them each a glass.
“Don’t suppose you’ve given any more thought to my offer?” Peacock asked.
“I ain’t interested in selling, A.J.,” Masterson said.
“Figured since you weren’t marshal anymore, you might want to be movin’ on?”
“You figured wrong.”
The two men downed their drinks and Peacock replaced the bottle behind the bar.