Bucking the Tiger (7 page)

Doc was paler than normal as he walked into the Beehive later that afternoon. The summer was quickly approaching, turning the air into a thick, warm stew. It was a hard day for most folks to bear, but Doc took the change of seasons a little harder than most. He was wheezing and hacking into his handkerchief so much that he could hardly take a breath.

“Jesus, Doc,” Caleb said as Doc made his way to their usual table. “You look like hell.”

“And yet, I still manage to outperform you at making the rounds.” As he said that, Doc reached into his pocket and removed a bundle of cash that was nearly the size of his fist.

“You take more risks than I do,” Caleb pointed out. “You always do that when you're feeling your worst.”

“Spare me the bargain diagnoses.”

Without needing so much as a wave from either of the men, a dark-haired serving girl brought over drinks for them. “Plenty of people asking about the game tonight,” she said while setting a beer down in front of Caleb and a bottle of whiskey in front of Doc. “We haven't hardly heard about anything else.”

Keeping his eyes locked on Doc, Caleb said, “That's good. Especially since there's been plenty more going on.”

“Really?” she asked. “Like what?”

“I don't know. Why don't you ask Doc? He's been around more action than I have.”

Nudging Caleb and winking, she said, “That's not what I heard.”

Doc glanced up at Caleb and laughed under his breath. “Now, this is something I do want to hear.”

Caleb peeled off some of the money from the stack on the table and handed it to the girl. She took it and pranced away without so much as acknowledging the question that had yet to be answered.

“Like what?” Doc asked with a vague impression of the girl in his voice. “Tell me all about it.”

“After you tell me about the man you killed in your boardinghouse.”

As he took hold of the bottle, Doc reached into his pocket and removed a small, dented cup with a bent handle. “She always remembers the bottle, but never the glass.”

“Don't change the subject, Doc. Who was it?”

“Some fellow by the name of Boyer.” When he saw the look of surprise that had sprung onto Caleb's face, Doc said, “Oh, I see you've heard of him.”

“The same Boyer that killed Earl?”

“I didn't get around to asking as much, but I'd say that's fairly safe to assume.”

“How'd you find him?”

“I didn't. He found me.”

Since it was easy enough to see that Caleb was bursting at the seams to hear the whole story, Doc didn't wait any longer to tell it. He gave a short yet accurate account of the confrontation while counting up the money he'd stolen and splitting it up between them. When he was done, he'd already found a deck of cards and was practicing his fancy shuffles.

Caleb leaned back in his chair to digest what he'd heard. “The Tiger?” he asked. “Are you sure you heard that right?”

“Dramatic, to be certain, but that is what he said.”

“You think he was right about the gamblers being taxed?”

Doc nodded, split the deck in half, and practiced manipulating the cards in both his left and right hand simultaneously. “I asked around about that very subject as I visited the other saloons. I even went to a few places that we don't usually pay much attention to. We should start going to that place by the opium den. It may be dirty, but the dealers do a piss-poor job of watching their—”

“The taxes,” Caleb said to get Doc back on track. “What did they say about the taxes?”

“They said just what Boyer claimed they would. Apparently, the professionals either kick some back to this Tiger person directly or they chip in to a pool that's held by the saloon owner. Doing the latter makes it easier to fudge some of the numbers.” Shaking his head, Doc mused, “Isn't it amazing how many ways there are to steal the same bit of money?”

Caleb leaned back and ran his fingers through his uneven hair. “And you're sure he's dead?”

“Oh, yes. I checked on it myself. My specialty may be dentistry, but I know a corpse when I see one. On that same note, he did have excellent teeth.”

“How long before the law shows up?”

“About Boyer? They already made their appearance.”

“What?” Caleb asked with a start. “When?”

“A deputy or two came by the boardinghouse and asked what sort of noises I heard and what I was doing. I gave as accurate an account as I could, since I was eating breakfast in my room after just waking up at the time.”

Caleb couldn't help but admire the way Doc spoke those words without the first hint that he was lying. Then again, that same quality also worried him about the man. “And they bought that?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Doc said with a nod. “To tell you the truth, they seemed rather relieved to have it wrapped up so neatly for them. Perhaps they didn't take too kindly to being shoved around by that miserable asshole, any more than I did. Although, I couldn't help but think about those others that Boyer was talking about.”

“You mean the Tiger?”

“Precisely. If what he's saying is true, there must be plenty more where Boyer came from, and they still may pose a problem. Then again,” Doc added with a sideways glance in Caleb's direction, “they might also prove to be our way directly inside the very circuit we've been trying to break into.”

“Gamblers will gamble with anyone, Doc,” Caleb said with a sigh. “And the circuit is just a bunch of saloons favored by the gamblers at the top of the heap. All we need to do is follow the track and we're set.”

“That's a saloon owner talking. That's years of you trying to get your place favored by those gamblers.”

“Is it?”

“A man can follow the track and go to all the spots on the circuit, but that doesn't mean he'll be invited to all the biggest games or even be regarded as an equal by the others on that very same circuit. It takes experience and a certain word of mouth to gain that sort of respect.”

Caleb looked at Doc and then asked, “When did you figure all of this out? We've been making the same rounds and playing cards for a living for the same amount of time.”

“Apparently, I've been doing a better job of watching how the rest of the sporting men in this town operate. I also stay awake for the end of more of the longer poker games than you do, which you desperately need to work on, by the way. You'd be amazed at what bits of wisdom you get when someone's too tired to keep from saying too much.”

“They probably assume you're too drunk to remember any of it,” Caleb pointed out. “Most mortal men would be.”

Taking a silver dollar from his vest pocket, Doc began rolling it over the backs of his fingers as he said, “I'd like to see how many people pay tribute to this Tiger. Even if the system is half the size of what Boyer was boasting, it's still something to be considered. I know for a fact that there are at least two other spots on the circuit where collections are made.”

“How do you know that?”

“It was a final confession from Boyer himself.”

There was no mistaking the tone in Doc's voice. He was dead serious. Caleb would have bet his own life on that.

“What other towns pay the tax?” Caleb asked.

“Cheyenne and Denver. It's hard to say how deep it runs, but plenty of others in our chosen field know about it. That means they would also know when the taxes no longer had to be paid.”

Having leaned forward to catch every word Doc was saying, Caleb had a ways to go when he dropped back against his chair once more. “Are you talking about hunting these men down?”

“Nothing quite so dramatic,” Doc said with a shrug. “Just butting heads with a few of them until they back down.” When he met Caleb's disbelieving stare, Doc had a fiery glint in his eyes. “The best outcome possible would be putting this Tiger out of business. The worst would be staring these extortionists in the face and telling them where to stuff their taxes.”

Shaking his head, Caleb said, “No, the worst would be us marching up to the wrong man and getting shot full of holes for our troubles.”

“Either way, don't you think we'd gain some amount of respect with everyone on the circuit? If I've learned anything so far, it's that a man's reputation will follow him to the grave. In this line of work, respect gets us invited to the real money games. It allows us to operate wherever we please and, depending on how we play it up, it can put people off their guard or on their toes as we see fit. If you can't see the promise in all of that, then you have no business gambling for a living.”

Caleb shook his head. “These men are killers, Doc. Going up against one or two is one thing, but going up against a whole gang of them is another. Before you declared war on them, maybe you should have thought about anyone else who might have gotten pulled into it. Just because you're in a race to die doesn't mean the rest of us are.”

Even as those words came out, Caleb felt the pang of regret stabbing straight down into his chest And, no matter how true they were, he felt like an ass for saying them out loud.

Doc simply raised his eyebrows and kept rolling the silver dollar along the backs of his fingers. “You can join in on this or not,” he said plainly. “All I'm telling you is the benefits for doing so.”

“I've learned plenty in my experience,” Caleb said without as much of an edge in his tone. “And one thing for certain is that there's always someone out there who's better than you. That doesn't mean you should run away from it, but that also doesn't mean you should ride straight into it.”

The next few moments ticked by like hours. In that time, Caleb didn't hear the other conversations going on around him or any of the other various sounds that filled a saloon at any time of day. All he heard was the ring of that silver dollar as it knocked against Doc's knuckles before making another pass along the back of his hand.

Finally, Doc ended the silence by asking, “Have you slept with Lottie yet?”

Caleb had to pause and wonder if he'd truly heard those words. When he couldn't decide for certain, he asked, “What did you say?”

“Anyone can see the spark between you, but if you intend on making a move on her, you'd best do it quickly. I hear she has a weakness for roguish gamblers who know their way around a tooth extractor.”

As the laugh built up in the back of Caleb's throat, it seemed to push out all of the tension that had been building inside of him. Doc quickly gave in as well, and when the laughter was over, things were back to normal between them.

No apologies were needed.

“Whatever hell there is to be caught for Boyer's death will land on my shoulders,” Doc said. “You were nowhere to be found, so your name shouldn't come up.”

“That's some real dandy logic,” Caleb said sarcastically.

“You could always go and complain to the law about their lack of interest. Just give me enough warning so I can put on clothes more suitable for laying on a cot in a cell.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of thanking you. Even though I would have preferred to kill that asshole myself, I'm glad it got done.”

Flipping the silver dollar into his other hand, Doc tipped his hat and said, “Don't mention it…please. Gaining notoriety may have its advantages, but being hung for murder isn't one of them.”

“The law can't be done with this so quickly,” Caleb said. “Even if they did want him out of the way, there's got to be repercussions.”

“Perhaps more questions would have been asked if it was someone more respectable laying on that floor. As it was, the law seemed fairly relieved to find who they did. At the very least, they weren't surprised.”

“And they didn't ask around for the whereabouts of the folks who weren't in their rooms?”

“Maybe you're not cut out for a sporting life, Caleb. You worry too much.”

“Just waiting for someone to come looking for the guilty accomplice.”

“No accomplices were needed this time.”

“What about at tonight's game?”

“Now, there's a different story,” Doc said. “We have some planning to do in that regard.”

Owen Donnelly was more than happy to host the poker game at the Beehive, since it was being held on a regularly slow night. While the roulette wheel was seeing its fair amount of action, most of the customers were lounging in the back where they could watch a trio of can-can girls kicking up their skirts to show the lacy underthings they wore beneath them. As the night wore on, the girls would be wearing even less under those skirts, which always drew more of a crowd.

Caleb stood at the front door, where he could spot the invited players and direct them to the proper table. Leaning against the bar with a well-practiced smile on his face made him think back to his days running the Busted Flush. It wasn't that long ago, but it felt like a whole other lifetime.

At Doc's insistence, Caleb had purchased a suit of clothes that were several steps above the normal jeans and work shirt he preferred. It was a black suit with a waistcoat over a starched white shirt. He managed to keep the sleeves down for all of two minutes before the material felt as if it were wrapping around his arms like a pair of snakes. Once he'd rolled up the sleeves, the shirt was a bit easier to bear. That way, he was able to return the cuff links for a full refund.

An old pocket watch was nestled in his waistcoat with a chain that was hooked through one of the buttonholes midway up his chest. While he was standing there, a tall blonde in a purple silk dress made her way beside him and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Looking good in that suit,” she whispered.

“Don't talk like that unless you're willing to back it up,” Caleb replied. When he didn't hear an answer right away, he turned to find her sizing him up with stunning blue eyes. Her face was elegant and trim, accented only slightly by powders and cream.

“And you shouldn't give a girl a hard time when she pays you a compliment,” she told him.

Caleb couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the rest of Trish's figure. She had a dancer's body, but with a good amount of curve in all the right places. When she walked, it was with practiced elegance, and even when she stood still, she seemed to be gliding closer to him.

Although the ribbon tied around her forearm matched the color of her dress perfectly, it still marked her as one of the girls on Donnelly's payroll. That took a bit of the excitement out of seeing her look at him the way she was, but not much.

“Some deputy was asking about the game,” she said. “Can you believe that?”

“I can if it's the deputy I invited.”

Trish pulled back a bit as if to make sure she was talking to the right person. “You invited a lawman to your game? Does Doc know about that?”

“Not yet,” Caleb said with a smirk. “But he's always talking about staying sharp and being ready for anything. I figure this will be good practice for both of us, especially considering what's in store for the night.”

“You still plan on soaking that dandy Lottie's bringing with her?”

Lowering his voice a bit, Caleb nodded and said, “Right down to the bone.”

That brought an excited smirk to Trish's face and also brought her a bit closer to Caleb's side. Her hands moved along his hip before wandering in toward his inner thigh In no time at all, she'd found what she was looking for. “Maybe if you win tonight, you'll have enough to afford the grand treatment.”

Caleb didn't exactly move to accommodate Trish's roaming hand, but he didn't move away from it either. “The grand treatment? I've only heard stories about that.”

“They're all true,” she whispered. “I'm even considering giving you a discount.”

“Which is?”

“Let me in on the game. I can help in plenty of ways. I've read cards for plenty of other players. Just cut me in on a percentage and we can both celebrate afterward.”

“And here I thought you were interested in me,” Caleb said sarcastically.

“I am. You want me to prove it?”

Just as he was about to respond to that, Caleb straightened up and took a step away from Trish. “You won't be any help if everyone sees you all over me like this,” he said.

Trish glanced toward the front door and saw what had caught Caleb's eye. She looked at Lottie Deno as if she'd caught sight of a slab of cold, half-chewed steak. Slowly easing her hand off of Caleb, Trish said, “If you're more interested in redheads, you may be out of luck with that one. From what I've heard, she's not interested in much of anything else besides playing cards.”

“And I suppose you're an expert on the subject?”

“Maybe not, but the men that come running to us when they get turned away by ones like her sure got no reason to lie.”

Caleb smiled, knowing full well just how many ways Lottie would be able to dash a man's hopes into dust. “Hopefully I won't be one of those men.”

Shrugging, Trish finally backed all the way off him. “What about the rest?” she asked. “Can I help you during your game or not?”

“Ask Doc about that,” Caleb said as he straightened his waistcoat and stood tall.

Before walking away, Trish leaned in and whispered, “Don't blame me if I'm too busy to fit you in when your balls are about to burst from all that pressure.” With that, she walked away amid a flutter of skirts and one last brush of her hand against Caleb's chest.

Lottie took her time making her way from the front door. From the moment she'd stepped into the Beehive, she'd been swarmed by waves and greetings of all sorts. Most of them were from men, and a few of them bordered on the inappropriate. Lottie handled every last one of them with style, even rebuffing the few rude drunks with a properly timed icy stare as well as some choice words. The expression on her face had shifted to genuine warmth by the time she made it to where Caleb was standing.

“Am I the first one to arrive?” she asked.

“Anders is here and so is Doc. I will say that you're the first one to cause such a stir.”

“If Sheriff Jacobs hears about one of his deputies playing in this game, there may be a bigger stir, but I'll accept the prize for now.”

Having taken Lottie's hand out of courtesy when she'd first walked up to him, Caleb had yet to let go of her. She was known for wearing green as a way to accentuate the redness in her hair. This evening was no exception, and she wore a dark green dress with embroidery that was simple yet as elegant as the lady who wore it.

Lottie's hair fell in a cascade of thick, wavy curls that bounced with every step. There was plenty more bouncing as well since the neckline of her dress plunged down just past a respectable level. Even that indulgence wasn't enough to tarnish the sophisticated package that was Lottie Deno.

“If you stare at me any longer, I'll be forced to charge for a ticket,” she said.

Caleb shook himself out of his stupor and shrugged. “Sorry about that. I'm sure you've been getting that every step of the way over here.”

“Yes, but this is the first time I've been reluctant to put a stop to it. Where's Doc?”

Caleb hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Back at the big table.”

Lottie stood on her tiptoes so she could look farther into the saloon's main room. “I don't see him.”

Turning on his heel, Caleb took a look at the spot where he'd left Doc. All he could see was a bottle of whiskey in front of an empty chair. “He probably just got up to stretch his legs.”

“Either that, or the sheriff's come around to haul him in for killing Boyer.”

As Caleb turned around, he was careful to measure every last one of his movements. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes narrowed while studying him carefully. “Boyer was around a while ago and he mentioned to a few people that he knew about the new players in town. That means he was going to expect taxes from you and Doc, which means he must have come to see you. Word has it that he went to see Doc and nobody's seen him since.”

“Your sources must be better than mine. Seeing as how you were higher than me on Boyer's shit list, I can only guess you're bluffing right now.”

After a slight pause, Lottie winked and said, “Fishing is more like it.”

“While we're on the subject, what exactly brought on that situation between you and Boyer?”

“He expected me to pay double for running my game so close to where the stagecoach is unloaded, and I refused. He also expected me to let him under my skirts whenever he pleased, and I refused that as well.”

“That explains why he was so fussy.”

“Either that, or it was the time my boot was introduced to his balls.”

Caleb let out a surprised laugh.

“That was the first time Boyer tried to put his hands on me,” she explained. “I paid my dues and put him down. He never did like me very much after that.”

“Why bother paying him at all?”

Lottie studied him a little more closely while chewing on her bottom lip. When she started speaking again, her tone was back to its normal melody. “You must have really not talked to him if you're asking that question.”

“I've heard some things, but I never thought to believe them.”

“You should. At least, you should believe what he says about Fort Griffin and Cheyenne, I know him and his friends have plenty going on there.”

“Like what?”

Lottie sighed and eyed the empty card table as if it were calling her name. Reluctantly, she said, “Folks here and in Cheyenne pay the tax because it's more trouble to refuse. It's not that expensive and we usually short the Tiger's cut anyway.”

“So there really is a Tiger?”

Narrowing her eyes as if she'd just seen through Caleb's mask, Lottie said, “There's always someone coming around to try and use muscle to get a piece of what we earn. That goes whether you work at a bank or at a poker table. And in both of those instances, men can get gunned down if they say no to the wrong man.”

“Who's gotten killed?”

Lottie stopped short and forced a calmer facade onto her face. “Have you already forgotten about Earl?”

Caleb hung his head and felt his stomach twist into a knot. “That's not what I meant, Lottie. I was just…”

“Fishing,” she said when she saw Caleb struggling. “I know.” Reaching out to place her hand on top of his, she added, “Here's some advice from someone who's been making her way in a tough business for a long time. You don't have to pay everyone who sticks their hand out, but you'll stay alive longer if you keep the real tigers at bay. If it was just Boyer, he wouldn't be such a problem. But there's more out there. Plenty more, and they make Boyer look like a kitten in comparison.” Lottie's eyes darted toward the door, where she spotted an older man in a dark blue suit step in from the street. He looked around and nodded toward the bar as he slowly made his way through the crowd.

“Looks like one of my own prospects is here,” she said. “I think I'll go see what kind of mood he's in.”

“Once he sees you in that dress, it won't be difficult to guess his mood.”

Lottie crinkled her nose at him in a playful scowl and then pointed toward the back of the room.

Caleb turned and saw Doc stepping out from a narrow hallway leading to the rooms used by the Beehive's working girls. Trish was right behind him, and she was dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a frilly handkerchief.

“Great,” Caleb muttered. “Looks like we've got a new partner.”