“Like I said,” he replied, “don’t worry. The job’ll get done.”
“Okay,” Updegraff said, standing up. “I’ll let Anthony know we got nothin’ to worry about.”
It took Sandland a moment to realize that Updegraff was talking about Peacock.
After Updegraff had left Sandland got the attention of Dave and Willy by slamming his hand down on the table.
“Wha—” Dave asked. Willy looked around, his eyes wild.
“Tonight we stay sober and do the job.”
“I’m in favor of stayin’ sober,” Willy said. “I feel like crap.”
“Sure didn’t effect your appetite,” Dave said.
“Nothin’ effects his appetite,” Sandland said.
He turned his attention to his own breakfast. He didn’t have to wonder what Peacock and Updegraff had against this gambler, Butler. He’d heard how the man had backed Jim Masterson’s play in the Lady Gay. It was well known in Dodge that Masterson and Peacock were on the outs. Without the gambler around, Masterson would be an easier target, even with Neal Brown backing him.
Sandland just wondered what Peacock and Updegraff were going to do about Bat Masterson after they killed his brother Jim. Well, that wouldn’t be any concern of his. He didn’t mind bushwhacking a gambler, but they’d have to pay him a lot more money to go up against Bat Masterson.
A lot more!
Butler had breakfast in the hotel. It was just more convenient that way. As he entered he didn’t see Dog Kelley anywhere. Either the ex-mayor had eaten and gone, or he’d decided to change up his routine today.
He did, however, see Ben Thompson at a table. As if he sensed he was being watch, Ben looked up, smiled and waved Butler to join him. Butler thought they were either going to end up very good friends, or sick of each other.
“’Morning,” Thompson greeted. “If you’re not sick of me yet have a seat and join me.”
“Seems to me you’d be the one feeling that way,” Butler said.
“What, you mean after last night?” Thompson asked. “That was fun, son.”
“Losing is fun?”
“Well,” the other man said, “not as much fun as winning, but you can’t take this stuff too seriously.”
“I suppose not.”
Thompson had not yet ordered so the waiter came over and took orders from them both—steak and eggs for Thompson, bacon and eggs for Butler.
“Any sign of your man today?” Thompson asked.
“No,” Butler said, “and so far I don’t seem to be drawing any obvious attention.”
“Enjoy it, then,” Thompson said, “with the Earps gone, Bat Masterson and Bill Tilghman and Luke Short and the like, this town is looking for new blood.”
“Like you?”
“Me? I’m old blood,” Thompson said. “You’re the one who’s new blood.”
“I like my blood just the way it is, thanks.”
“Then let me warn you about the editor of the town newspaper. She’s got charm and looks, and, if you’re not careful, she’ll talk you into an interview.”
Butler looked away.
“Ah, I see I’m too late.”
“Did it last night, at supper.,”
“Ah,” Thompson said. “You got her to eat with you. Good man. We did mine in the hotel lobby. When is it going to run?”
“I don’t know,” Butler said. “She didn’t confide that.”
“Probably in the next couple of days,” Thompson said. “You want my advice, make your money and get out. If you weren’t a target before, you will be after that.”
Butler thought Thompson was kidding, but couldn’t tell by looking at him.
CHAPTER 30
Kevin Ryerson rode into Dodge while Butler and Ben Thompson were having breakfast. The day’s business had already started and Front Street had enough going on that no one paid him any special mind. He wore nondescript trail clothes, and rode an equally unremarkable-looking mare. There was nothing about the man that would make anyone notice him, which was the way he preferred it.
He found the livery, put up his horse, and then asked the liveryman for a cheap hotel. He wasn’t looking for something cheap so much as something out of the way. Armed with directions, he walked back through town carrying his saddlebags and rifle. He’d never been to Dodge City before, and was not particularly impressed with its history. He took Dodge’s reputation the same way he took the reputation of men—with a grain of salt. Too many times he had found the reputations of men to be overblown and unearned. Why should a town be any different?
He passed the Dodge House and gave it a brief look. He knew the kind of people who’d be staying there. Swells, gamblers, high-class ladies—none of them his kind of people.
He found his hotel, a somewhat rundown establishment that, nevertheless, was this side of the red-light district. He checked in, got a room overlooking the street, dumped his belonging on the bed. The mattress was thin, but it was better than sitting on the ground. He had a steak on his mind, and a drink, and then after that he’d get down to business.
Butler and Thompson finished breakfast and left the Dodge House together.
“I’m off to the local gunsmith,” Thompson said. “I need some work done on my Peacemaker.” He indicated the single-action Colt Peacemaker on his hip.
It was the days that were difficult for a gambler, finding something to do while they waited for the saloons and gambling halls to open.
“I believe I’ll try to find myself an afternoon poker game,” Butler said. He’d waited most of yesterday, ended up playing only at night and did quite well. If his luck was good, he might as well press it during the day, he thought.
“Good luck to you, then,” Thompson said. “Maybe we’ll find ourselves at the same table again tonight.”
The two bade one another good day and went their separate ways.
Red Sandland watched as Butler and Ben Thompson went in opposite directions. That suited him. He did not want to be anywhere near Ben Thompson when the man had a gun in his hand.
Sandland had actually done something smart, which qualified this a landmark day in his life. He had positioned both Willy and Dave so that when Butler left his hotel, none of the three of them had to tail him. They were stationed in such a way that they could monitor his progress all along Front Street. If he happened to leave Front Street they’d be in big trouble, but lucky for them he didn’t. He went directly to the Lady Gay and tried the front door, which happened to be open even though the saloon was not.
As he went in, the three men left their positions to meet up directly across the street from the saloon.
When Butler walked into the Lady Gay, Al Updegraff was using a broom on the floor in front of the bar. He looked up, saw Butler, and froze. His gun was behind the bar. If Sandland and his idiots had named Updegraff as the man who sent them to try and kill him, he was in trouble.
As it happened, Butler smiled at him and asked, “Is Jim Masterson around?”
“We’re closed,” Updegraff said. “I just got the door open to get some air.”
“I can see that,” Butler said. “I’m looking for Masterson.”
Updegraff jerked his chin upward and said, “He ain’t come down yet.”
“I think I’ll wait for him.”
“Suit yourself.” Updegraff had considered kicking Butler out, but decided against it.
“You the bartender?”
“That’s me,” Updegraff said. “Bartender, and swamper.”
“Let me ask you. What do you think the chances are of me getting up an afternoon poker game?”
Updegraff stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom handle, holding it in both hands.