Caleb knew the quickest way out of that conversation was to tell Doc that he was wrong. Dead wrong. Unfortunately, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of sitting in his own dirty little office, longing for the escape of working behind a bar. Compared to that paper-filled, dusty office stuck within those thick walls, Ben Mays’s jail cell hadn’t seemed too bad.
“I’m not wrong,” Doc said to fill the silence. “I can see that.”
“So what? This ain’t nothing new. Practically every man that comes into my saloon gripes about what he does for a living. Either that, or he gripes about not being able to make a living. All men gripe. So what?”
“But how many men do something about it?”
Caleb shook his head quickly and backed away. “Don’t do anything to put my place at risk, Doc. That’s what I came to say.”
“All right then. How about we work to make sure that the Busted Flush not only stays in business but also gets out of any financial woes you may have?”
“And how would you suggest we do that?”
“Well, the first step would be to put your place on the circuit.”
Caleb’s eyes lit up. Being on the gambler’s circuit meant being in the loop for every big game when the real professionals came to town. Big-league players meant bigger house takes, and even when those gamblers had bad streaks of luck, others would come to fill their shoes or get in line to take one of those players down. In the end, it was the saloons that came out ahead, and only saloons on the circuit even made it into those games.
“I’ve tried to get on the circuit for years,” Caleb said.
Nodding, Doc said, “I’ve been doing some gambling myself and have come to appreciate the fineries of that profession. I believe all you need is to expand your gaming repertoire and allow someone with similar interests to take an active role.”
Caleb couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve got a hell of a way of saying a little thing like you want to work at my saloon.”
“Seeing as how I’d rather pull my own teeth out rather than grow old in my current profession, I think a steady job dealing faro might be a welcome change.”
“I never did see the sense in faro.”
“That’s because playing it is a step above tossing your money into the street. Not everyone thinks along those lines, which is why dealing faro can be quite lucrative.”
“And how will that get me on the gambling circuit?”
“It’s a first step in bringing your saloon up to snuff. What do you say? Are you willing to take on a new dealer?”
Caleb pondered that for a few moments before nodding. What put it all together for him was the notion that it would be so much easier to keep an eye on Doc in the Flush than having to track him down whenever something went wrong. “All right. But if the law comes snooping around, just keep your mouth shut. Sound good?”
“That sounds marvelous,” Doc replied, extending his hand.
Caleb shook Doc’s hand, finding himself once again surprised at the strength in the dentist’s bony grasp.
“You keep in mind everything else we talked about,” Doc said. “I’m not one to wax philosophic with just anyone, you know.”
“In order for the Flush to last the week, I’ll need to find a way to get those goddamn Deagles away from me for good.”
“I am so glad you mentioned that. I’ve been entertaining some intriguing notions regarding that very topic.”
“I hope you don’t intend on shooting up my place,” Caleb said with a nod toward the fence. There were only a few more bottles lined up, and when Caleb shifted his eyes back to Doc, he found the Navy model Colt being handed over to him.
“Actually, things may get a little rough before they get better,” Doc said. “Are you up for it?”
Caleb took the gun from Doc’s hand and let his finger settle over the trigger. From there, he extended his arm, took aim, and fired enough times to empty the cylinder. When the smoke cleared, all but one of the six remaining bottles had been shattered.
“I think I can handle myself just fine,” Caleb said while handing the gun back to its owner.
[15]
It was just past nine that night when Doc came back into the Busted Flush. The suit he wore was freshly pressed and so black that it made his diamond stickpin stand out like a single star in an otherwise barren night sky. A large, flat case was tucked under one arm, and the smile on his face was wide enough to light up the room. Tipping his hat to everyone he met, Doc made his way to the bar where Hank was waiting.
“I’d like to have a word with Caleb, if you please,” Doc said in his cordial southern drawl.
Hank nodded and took in the sight before him. “I hear you’re to be dealing faro.”
“That is correct, sir.”
“That’s an awful big change from dentistry, ain’t it?”
“Every man is allowed his distractions, and with the annoying trend in which people have been maintaining their oral hygiene, I find that the added income is all too welcome.”
Although it had been Hank’s intention to put Doc through the same paces that he put every gambler, he soon found himself sharing the same high spirits that had gotten into the young dentist. “Caleb’s set to come out here and work behind the bar. I’ll have him check in on you before I leave, since it’s bound to get busy in here tonight.”
“Ah yes, the big poker tournament.”
“Well, we hope it’ll be big. I just hope it’ll be bigger than the last few.”
“Perhaps I can sit in for a few hands.”
“Why don’t you worry about dealing faro for now,” Hank said. “Your table’s right over there.”
Looking in the direction where Hank was pointing, Doc spotted a table against the far wall that was sectioned off with rope.
“Holly’s to be your lookout,” Hank said.
“Fine. Hopefully she’ll be able to keep her eyes on the cards instead of the dealer.”
“That’s what she gets paid for,” Hank replied. After Doc had turned and walked through the room, the barkeep shook his head and stepped up to the door leading into Caleb’s office. He knocked and stepped inside to find Caleb already jumping out of his seat. “Dr. Holliday is here.”
Caleb smiled and stepped around his desk. “Great. Did you show him to his table?”
“Yep. He brought his own setup and is getting situated now.”
“Perfect.”
“I don’t know about all this, Caleb. I mean, Holliday has a reputation around Dallas that don’t have a thing to do with his dental practice.”
“In case you haven’t heard, I’ve been getting a reputation myself after Mike Abel got himself killed in here.”
“How about a little respect? You were the one that killed him, after all.”
“Don’t start preaching to me,” Caleb grunted. “What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway?”
“Just what I said. Something about having Holliday in here don’t set well.”
“You’re just hungry. Go have some supper and leave the Flush to me. You’ve earned a night off. Besides,” Caleb added, “you always get nervous when we hold poker tournaments.”
“I guess it’s the gamblers. They all wear guns and don’t mind using them.”
Caleb waved off those words and walked past Hank. “Then you chose the wrong line of work, my friend. Spend a night alone with your wife, and maybe you’ll feel better come the morning.”
Hank nodded and grinned. “You may be right about that. Just be sure to let Holly know all that goes into watching over a faro game.”