“And here I thought I was going to be civil,” Holliday said.
“Too late for that, Dr. Holliday.”
The dentist furrowed his brow and took a step forward. “You did save my life, so I figure I ought to pay you back in kind.” He extended a hand and put on a smile that was too bright to be anything but genuine. “And please, call me Doc.”
Before he could think about anything else, Caleb found himself shaking Doc’s hand. The other man’s grip was strong and steady, which didn’t seem to match the aroma of whiskey that hung like a thick cloud around his head.
“You have a last name, Caleb?” Doc asked.
“Yeah. Wayfinder.”
Doc took back his hand and snapped his fingers. “That’s right. After all the confusion over the last day or so, that slipped my mind. Now, how about that drink you promised me?”
“Wait a second,” Caleb said after catching a glimpse of the Texas Ranger’s office. “I need to find Ben Mays. I don’t even know why the hell I got out so quickly. And besides, you’re the one that owes me a drink.”
“Semantics. Besides, there’s no need to worry about Mays.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re out because you don’t deserve to be inside that miserable cage. That’s the beauty of our divine justice system.” When he said that last sentence, Doc didn’t even try to mask the sarcasm in his voice.
“Last time I heard, it sounded like Mays was gonna use that divine system to string me up and hang me out to dry.”
“Possibly,” Doc said with a shrug. “But there was no way he could do that after so many witnesses came forward to give their accounts of what happened.”
“Witnesses came forward?”
Doc was walking down the boardwalk, heading straight for the loudest part of town. “Of course they did. All it took was a little organization to get them together and set their stories straight.”
Although Caleb had been walking at Doc’s side, he came to a halt the moment he heard those last few words. When he saw that Doc had no intention of stopping, Caleb reached out and dropped his hand onto Doc’s shoulder. It took a good amount of effort to turn Doc around.
“You got some people to lie to Ben Mays?” Caleb asked.
Knocking Caleb’s hand away, Doc replied, “There was no lying involved, thank you very much. There were folks in that saloon who saw what truly happened, and all I did was gather them up and point them in the right direction.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “And what about setting their stories straight? What, exactly did that involve?”
Doc looked back without reacting in the least to Caleb’s frustration. In fact, the more Doc studied Caleb’s face, the more he nodded. “All right, so maybe I suggested a few things they should say, but not a bit of it was a lie.”
“Great,” Caleb snarled as he turned and pressed his fingers against his forehead to try to soothe the ache that was growing inside his skull. “How long do you figure it’ll be before Mays finds out about this and hauls me back into that cell to rot?”
“You know what your problem is?” Doc asked in his easy southern drawl. “You worry too much. You didn’t do anything wrong besides put down that mad dog before he killed someone. If it wasn’t you, someone else would have killed that son of a bitch, and Mays knows it. All he needed to hear was verification from someone else to that effect.”
Oddly enough, the more Caleb thought about it, the more sense Doc’s words seemed to make. “Who did you get to speak for me?”
“Just half a dozen or so people that were there when everything happened. Mays showed up like clockwork asking around about what happened. Besides the barkeep at your saloon, those others just said what happened.”
“And what about the ones that were saying I killed Mike Abel in cold blood?” Just mentioning that caused those accusations to echo through Caleb’s mind just as they had been ever since the shooting had stopped.
Doc waved off that question like it was a gnat buzzing around his head. “Forget about them. They didn’t bother showing up while Mays was poking his nose about.”
“So I’m really free?”
“You’re out here walking around, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I suppose I am.”
“Then let’s get that drink and stop fussing about the past.”
“Sounds good, Doc. I know just the place.”
It was the busiest time of the night for any saloon, but the Busted Flush was even busier than usual. The moment Caleb walked in, the entire place exploded with cheers and joyous hollers, which died down just before shots got fired into the rafters.
Caleb waded through the people, most of which he recognized, and made his way to the bar. Hank was all smiles as he reached across to slap Caleb on the shoulder like a proud father on graduation day.
“Glad to have you back, Caleb!” Hank said. “I knew you wouldn’t be gone for long!”
Caleb’s head was spinning as he looked around at the folks who were already getting back to their own revelry. “Jesus, I didn’t know so many people cared about what happened to saloon owners around here.”
As if on cue, one of the less familiar faces in the crowd shoved past Caleb and snapped his fingers to get Hank’s attention. “Hey barkeep, you still handing out them free drinks?”
Hank turned and quickly poured a splash of whiskey into one of the smallest glasses. When the other man saw that he was barely getting a finger and a half of liquor, he shrugged and downed it in one gulp. After letting out a wheezing breath followed by a twitch, the man dropped the glass and headed for the door.
“Ah,” Caleb said as he looked around at everyone crammed into the Busted Flush. “Now it makes sense.”
“We are happy to have you back, Caleb,” Hank said. “I just thought a party would brighten your spirits.”
“It did, Hank. Thanks.”
Suddenly, Hank’s eyes widened, and he put on another grin. “Is that you, Dr. Holliday?”
“It certainly is. Did I hear mention of free drinks?”
“Well, one free drink anyway. For the party. Here you go.” Hank poured the splash of whiskey into a clean glass and set it onto the bar.
Doc scooped up the glass and downed the whiskey in a fluid, practiced motion. Reacting as if he’d taken a sip of milk, Doc set the glass down and nudged it forward. “Just one, you said?”
Before Hank could respond, Caleb hopped over the bar and said, “Doc’s drinks are on the house. Every last one of them.”
Although Hank smiled amiably, he shot more than a few wary glances in Caleb’s direction. “Are you . . . uh . . . sure about that?”
“Yep.” Snapping his eyes in Doc’s direction, he added, “But just for tonight.”
“Fair enough,” the dentist replied. Then he nudged the empty glass a bit more in Hank’s direction.
Fretting to himself, Hank reached to the shelf behind the bar for one of the bottles of whiskey. After lingering for a moment, he shifted his hand toward one of the less expensive selections and placed it in front of Doc.
With the bottle in one hand and his glass in the other, Doc poured himself a generous portion and downed it in much the same way as he did the first time around. As before, he barely even flinched as the firewater burned its way through his system. Lifting his empty glass to the barkeep, Doc said, “Hank, my friend, you and I are going to get along marvelously.”
Seeing that Doc was doing just fine on his own, Hank walked toward the office in the back and motioned for Caleb to follow him. After fixing himself a drink of his own, Caleb went along happily as one of the other bar-keeps stepped in to take his place.
“When did you and Dr. Holliday get so close?” Hank asked in a quick, hurried whisper.