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“You don’t have to justify where you live to me,” he told her. “I’ll see you at six.”

Butler was thinking about M.J. Healy as he entered the Dodge House and started up the stairs to the second floor. He reached his room and was about to fit his key into the lock when the door to the room directly across from him opened and a man stepped out.

“Oh, hi,” the man said.

Butler was suspicious. The man wasn’t dressed like someone who could afford a room at the Dodge House.

“Yeah, hi.”

The man closed his own door and stood there a moment, facing the door, his back to Butler, who decided not to move. If the man was waiting for him to open the door to his own room, he was going to have a long wait.

CHAPTER 23

Butler’s big advantage over most men at the poker table was his patience. He could wait forever for the right moment to make his big bet, the one that would win him that one hand of the night that would make or break him. The same patience usually extended to his real life, as well, and this was one of those times.

The man at the door had no patience. When he realized Butler hadn’t yet opened his door he turned, and was startled to find Butler looking right at him.

“Huh?” The sound came from him unbidden, and he couldn’t push it back down.

“Walk away, friend,” Butler said. “Whatever you’ve got planned for tonight isn’t worth it.”

The man’s eyes darted left and right. Was he looking for help? Did he have help waiting, perhaps for his signal?

Butler pushed back the flap of his jacket and laid his hand on his gun butt.

“What’s it gong to be?”

The man wet his lips, let his eyes dart about again, then shrugged and said, “I—I don’t know what yer talkin’ about. I—I got things to do tonight.”

“Then go and do them.”

The man hesitated, as if unsure which way to go, then turned and went down the hall to the stairway. Butler turned, quickly unlocked his door and entered, closing it firmly behind him. He stood there for a moment, his ear to the door, listening. When he was satisfied there was no movement outside he removed his hand from his gun, and moved away from the door. He went to the window and looked down at Front Street. He was waiting for the man to appear on the street, but it didn’t happen. He was either still in the hotel, or he’d left and had remained on this side of the street, where Butler could not see him.

Butler backed away from the window, removed his jacket and hung it on the back of the only chair in the room. He now had neither the time nor the inclination to take a bath. He’d clean himself up best he could for his supper with M.J. The last thing he wanted was to be caught naked in a bathtub, just in case the fellow was coming back with friends.

He kept his gun on while he washed.

When Sandland reached the stairs his two compadres, Dave and Willy, were there, standing just below the top step.

“What happened?” Willy asked.

“Did we miss the signal?” Dave asked.

“I didn’t give the signal,” Sandland said. “The sonofabitch wouldn’t go into his room—and then he braced me.”

“Why didn’t you—”

“Let’s go down to the lobby,” Sandland said. “I don’t wanna talk up here.”

The three men went down the stairs, but then Sandland decided they shouldn’t talk in the lobby, either.

“Let’s go get a drink,” he said.

“What about the gambler?” Dave asked.

“We’ll take care of him later.”

“Let’s go to the Lady Gay,” Willy said.

“No!” Sandland said quickly. He didn’t want to have to explain to Al Updegraff why they hadn’t taken care of the gambler yet. “No, the Red Dog is just down the street. We’ll go there. I don’t want to get too far from the hotel, in case the guy comes out again.”

“But what about—”

“Just shut up, Willy,” Sandland said. “Just shut up for now.”

“You’re havin’ supper with this man?” Lou Healy asked his sister. “You don’t even know him?”

“That’s the point of the supper, Lou,” she said. “To get to know him. To interview him.”

“What’s he done that makes him worth an interview?” her brother demanded.

“Well, for one thing he’s apparently friends with Ben Thompson.”

“They just met last night.”

“And already they’ve played cards together and drank together,” she said. “Now, I don’t much understand men, but that sounds like a new friendship to me. Throw in a whore and they’d be best friends! Isn’t that what you men do?”

Lou wasn’t hearing her.

“What am I supposed to do about eatin’?” he asked.

“We have some fried chicken left over from the other night,” she said, “or go to a restaurant and eat. Go to the Delmonico.”

“That’s expensive.”

“Look, Lou,” she said, “he’s going to be here any minute. Get all of this out of your system, all right? So you don’t look like a big baby in front of him.”

She straightened her dress and left him standing there in her bedroom, in front of her mirror. He looked at his own reflection, then muttered after her, “You’re a baby.”

CHAPTER 24

Butler was extra careful when leaving his room, and when he went down to the lobby. He considered going out a back door, but then decided to brave the front. They’d already tried once to get him in the hallway, maybe they weren’t willing to try in the street.

As he left the hotel he realized the coast was clear and started walking toward the far end of town, following M.J.’s directions. As he went he wondered at the fact that somebody was trying to collect the price on his head again so soon after Wichita. He could usually count on weeks, sometimes months, between tries. He also wondered if he should call this supper off. M.J. might be in danger being around him, but then he doubted he’d be able to talk her out of it. She’d already impressed him with her tenacity. She’d probably hound him all night, and be in the line of fire, anyway, if something came up. Better to eat with her, give her the interview, and then send her home where she’d be safe.

He reached the house, a small, one-story wooden building that needed some work. The yard was in disrepair, as was the white fence that went halfway around. He mounted the front steps. Three of them, the middle one loose. This place needed a man with a hammer and some nails, and a good coat of paint.

He knocked on the door and she immediately opened it. She was wearing a smile and a pretty blue dress that showed off her figure without showing him any skin. He liked it better than if she’d been wearing a saloon girl’s dress.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” She stepped outside and closed the door.

“Not saying goodbye to your brother?”

“We’ve already said good night,” she told him. “He’s a little peeved that I’m not cooking dinner.”

“Will he starve?”

“I doubt it,”

“That’s good.”

“Why?” she asked. “If I’d said yes, would you have invited him to come along?”

“No,” he said, “I just don’t want to be the cause of him starving to death.”

“No danger of that.”

He extended his arm and asked, “Shall we go?”

She was holding a pad and pencil, so she shifted them to her other hand so she could take his arm.

“Since I don’t know where we’re going,” she said, “I’m on your hands.”

He was sure he hadn’t been followed to her house, and he was equally sure no one was following them as he walked her to the restaurant he’d discovered, owned and operated by Hank…whose last name he did not know.