Denver Draw by Robert J. Randisi Read Free Book Online Page B

Doc asked.
    “No point, really,” Butler said. “Seems we’re evenly matched, and that kind of game could go on for days.”
    “Drink at the bar, then?”
    “That sounds good.”
    The two men collected their winnings in paper money and chips. Before moving to the bar they cashed in the chips and stowed their money away in their pockets.
    Word had gotten around the saloon that Doc Holliday was there. Butler noticed that he and Doc were given a wide berth as they moved to the bar. Doc did not seem to notice, or simply didn’t care.
    At the bar Butler got a beer and Doc Holliday a whiskey.
    “First round’s on me,” Doc said. “You get the second.”
    “You’re on.”
    “Where you from? I haven’t heard of you before.”
    “Back east.”
    Doc grinned.
    “That all you wanna say?”
    “That’s all that matters,” Butler replied.
    “As you wish,” Doc said, and drained his glass. Butler wasn’t finished with his beer yet, but signaled Roscoe to refill Doc’s drink.
    “How long have you been in Trinidad?”
    “A week,” Butler said.
    “Then you can tell me if it’s worth a gambler’s time,” Doc said. “I was thinkin’ of movin’ on pretty soon to Denver.”
    “Can’t compare with Denver, I’m sure,” Butler said. “If faro’s your game—”
    “It has been.”
    “—Bat Masterson’s got a table in here.”
    “Masterson,” Doc said. “You met him yet?”
    “I have,” Butler said. “I knew his brother Jim in Dodge.”
    “Were you part of that?”
    “I was.”
    “Heard it was some dust-up.”
    “Probably couldn’t compare with what happened in Tombstone, but lead was flying pretty good.”
    Doc finished his drink, waved at the bartender for a third, and regarded Butler with interest.
    “So you’re a little more than a gambler.”
    “I could say the same for you.”
    Doc lifted his glass.
    “Let‘s drink to variety.”
    Butler raised his glass.
     
    As they finished their meal Bat talked about Dodge City and what had occurred there. Wyatt had never asked Bat what had transpired between him and his brother Jim to drive a wedge between them, but he admired his friend for going to his brother’s aid anyway.
    Bat told Wyatt that he, too, needed someplace to hole up for a while, do some thinking, explained how he had ended up in Trinidad just when the marshal’s job was open.
    “A man’s gotta work,” he said, and added that he had the faro layout in the Bonanza.
    Then he told Wyatt about the new man who had arrived in town only last week. He also explained the situation where he had pressed Butler’s gun into service, and how his deputy had been killed.
    “Can’t blame yourself for that, Bat,” Wyatt said.
    “That’s what folks have been tellin’ me,” he said.
    “What else do you know about this fella Butler?”
    “I know he stood with me, Jim, and Neal Brown in Dodge. Also he was there before I was, already takin’ a hand in Jim’s troubles. And now he’s stepped into mine without so much as a question.”
    “Sounds a lot like Doc.”
    “Well, he’s a gambler, poker mostly, but I got him relieving me at my faro table in the evenings so I can do my rounds.”
    “And he’s only been here a week?”
    “Yeah,” Bat said. “Seems he ain’t shy about helpin’ out.”
    “Well,” Wyatt said, raising his beer glass, “let’s drink to friends, then—both old and new.”
    “That’s somethin’ I can drink to.”
     
    Virgil Earp woke over an hour later, feeling refreshed despite some dull pain in his arm. But it was the growling in his belly that was the most insistent. He washed his face, strapped on his gun—awkwardly, since he essentially had one good arm—and went downstairs to see if he could find Wyatt. Failing that, he’d just go in search of a decent steak.
    The neatest saloon to the hotel was the Bonanza, so he walked over and peered in over the batwing doors. He saw Doc Holliday talking to a man dressed in gambler’s black. Seemed the man had