Butler's Wager

CHAPTER 14

Butler woke up the next morning with a warm, naked hip pressed against his. He frowned, then remembered that he had finally decided to take Dog Kelley up on his offer for a free woman. He lifted himself up onto his elbows to take a look at her. Her face, in repose, was pretty, and young looking. Her body was long and lean, her skin smooth and clear. Butler figured she wasn’t more than twenty-five. He remembered more, that Kelley had given him his choice of any woman, and when he had picked this one, Dog had congratulated him.

“You got the pick of the litter, my friend. Enjoy.”

He’d come back to his room in the Dodge House and had done just that, until they were both exhausted, and then they had drifted off to sleep.

He was about to wake her up when he realized he could not remember her name. He recalled most of what had transpired last night—the poker game, apparently making friends with Ben Thompson, picking the girl—but for the life of him he couldn’t dredge up her name.

She shifted then, stretched prettily and licked her pretty mouth. As her eyes fluttered open it suddenly came to him in a flash.

“Good morning, Sheila.”

She smiled.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered,” he said. “How could I not after a night like last night.”

“You’re sweet,” she said. She sat up, swung her legs to the floor, then looked over her shoulder at him. She looked very fetching, but his stomach was growling, demanding to be tended to.

“Do you want a morning poke before I go?” she asked.

“Um, if it wouldn’t insult you, no,” he said. “I really have to get going.”

“I’m not offended,” she said, standing up. He hadn’t noticed last night that her butt was kind of flat, like a boy’s. And now that she was standing he could see how small her breasts were. She really wasn’t the type of woman he usually liked. He wondered how much he’d had to drink last night? Had he and Ben Thompson gone to the bar again after the game broke up?

She grabbed her dress and slipped into it, then put on her shoes.

“Last night was nice,” she said.

“Yeah, it was,” he said. “Thanks.”

She went to the door, opened it, then turned and wriggled her fingers at him.

“Bye. See you later, maybe.”

“Bye, Sheila.”

After she left he got up, washed himself using the pitcher and basin on top of the chest of drawers, then got dressed, strapped on his gun and went down to have breakfast.

The steak at the Delmonico had been excellent the night before but he decided to have breakfast in the Dodge House’s restaurant. When he entered he saw that the tables were pretty much taken, leading him to believe that the breakfast there must be pretty good. His stomach grumbled even more as a waiter approached him.

“I’m sorry, sir but—”

“I’m with him,” Butler said, pointing.

The waiter turned and saw a man at a table waving at them.

“Very well, sir,” the waiter said. “This way.”

Butler followed the waiter to the table, then quickly asked for coffee, eggs, bacon, and biscuits.

“Coming up, sir.”

Butler sat down with the man, who had not yet been served his breakfast, and said, “Good morning, Mr. Mayor.”

“’Mornin’,” Dog Kelley said, “and I ain’t Mr. Mayor anymore, so it’s just Dog, like I said last night.”

“You eat breakfast here every morning?” Butler asked.

Kelley nodded. “Start every day here.”

Butler looked around. It looked to him as if the other diners were making a concerted effort not to look at Kelly.

“Yeah, you’re not sittin’ with a real popular man in Dodge,” Kelley said. “I can probably get them to bring another table out for you.”

“I don’t have a problem with the company I keep,” Butler said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m much obliged,” Kelley said. “I usually can’t get through breakfast without somebody comin’ up to me, askin’ me for a favor or just kissin’ my ass so I’ll make some kind of a decision go their way. I actually don’t mind bein’ left alone.”

Butler didn’t much believe that. He had the impression Dog Kelley quite enjoyed being a politician.

The waiter came with his coffee, promised his breakfast very shortly.

“How’d you do last night?” Kelley asked. “Heard from my bartender you sat down with Ben Thompson.”

“I did well,” Butler said, “but so did Ben.”

“Ben? You got on a first-name basis with him?”

“Pretty much,” Butler said. Briefly, he told Kelley about the opening hand, and by the time he finished his story the waiter was there with their breakfasts. Kelly’s matched Butler’s, except for the thick piece of steak that sat in the center of the plate. It was running and turning the eggs pink.

“I like to start the day with a nice rare steak,” Kelley explained. He cut off a piece and stuck it in his mouth. “I know the kid you’re talkin’ about. That pearl-handle gun is a giveaway. His Pa’s got a spread outside of town, pretty big one.”

“Is he going to run home and tell Daddy we took his money?” Butler asked.

“Maybe, but if he does his Pa will probably smack him,” Kelley said. “Big Bob Deaver believes in a man standin’ up for himself.”

“Well, I think if he’d tried to stand up to Ben Thompson he would’ve ended up dead.”

“No doubt.”

“He made the right decision to walk away.”

“However,” Kelley said, “if I was you I’d watch my back. He may not be as afraid of you as he is of Ben.”

“That’s just the thing,” Butler said around a mouthful of eggs, “he wasn’t afraid of Ben at all—at least, not in the beginning. As soon as I sat down I could tell he’d been needling Ben all night.”

“Yeah, I heard about the gun on the table, too.”

“I guess not much happens in your place without you knowing it, huh?” Butler asked.

“I try to keep track,” Kelley said. “It’ll probably be easier to run my business, though, now that I don’t have to run the town.”

Once again Butler could tell the man wasn’t happy about the latter.

“You won’t take offense if I check out the Long Branch Saloon tonight, will you?” he asked.

“Hell, no,” Kelley said. “Chalk’s got to make a livin’; like everyone else. Give him my best.”

“I will.”

“By the way,” Kelley asked, “how was Sheila last night?”

“She was fine,” Butler said, “just fine.”

“Hank told me you took me up on my offer of a free poke.”

“I’m afraid we fell asleep, though,” Butler said, “so you’ll probably have to charge me for the whole night.”

Kelley chased some steak and eggs with a mouthful of coffee, then said, “Forget it. Maybe a night with Sheila will get you to come back for more. Maybe a different girl, next time.”

“She was good,” Butler said, “she’s just not the type I usually pick.” He didn’t want to admit he couldn’t remember picking her. He should not have gotten that drunk the first night in a strange town—certainly not Dodge City.

“We got others,” Kelley said, “short, tall, fat, skinny, you name it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Over the rest of the meal and some more coffee they discussed some town politics, mainly because Butler had made the mistake of asking, “So what do you think of your new mayor?” He was forced to listen to Kelley hold forth on all of Mayor A. B. Webster’s shortcomings.

When they were done eating Kelley said, “I’m sorry. I chewed your ear about politics, which you probably ain’t interested in.”

“Not usually,” Butler said, “but this is Dodge City. I’m interested in the history.”

“Well,” Kelley said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “if it’s history that interests you let me tell you some wild stories about Jim Masterson’s brother, Bat…”