Butler's Wager

CHAPTER 18

For want of something better to do, Butler returned to his hotel room. The saloons were open and he could have gone to the Long Branch, but he decided to put that off until later. He had some thinking to do, and he couldn’t do it around people—especially not around people who were staring at him.

It was the newspaper story that was causing him problems. Maybe nobody back East read the Dodge City Times, but everybody in Dodge read it and now knew who he was. The word could spread, and since an attempt had already been made on him in Wichita, he figured the word would only have to travel about that far.

He could pack up now and leave, head for Tombstone, where the sheer number of known men—the Earps, Bat Masterson, Doc Holliday, Johnny Ringo—would keep him in the background.

Or he could stay here as long as he had intended because Dodge City interested him—even more so now that he knew Jim Masterson, Neil Brown, and Ben Thompson. Being around them could be dangerous, but also would make sure he was never bored in Dodge. Also, if an attempt were made on him, he’d have some back up. And he knew both Brown and Masterson would be with him because of what he’d done in the Lady Gay the night before. Thompson might back his play simply because he liked him.

He walked to the window and looked down at Front Street, busier now with pedestrian and street traffic than at any time of the day. If he was going to remain in Dodge, it was time to be out there.

He’d surprised himself. It hadn’t taken him all that long to come to a decision.

When he got to the lobby, he was startled to see the newspaper lady, Mary Jane Healy standing there.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Butler.” She greeted him with a broad smile that lit up her face.

“Miss Healy.”

“M.J., please.”

“Are you down here waiting for me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to be interviewed.”

“I thought I’d make another plea.”

“Well, can you make it walking?” he asked.

“I believe I can.”

Outside he turned in the direction of the Long Branch, and she stayed with him. She was tall enough to take long enough strides to keep up with him while he walked.

“Tell me, M.J.,” he asked, “why would I change my mind now? What’s different from twenty minutes ago?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Your attitude? Maybe you’ve had time to think it over? Maybe I’ll just be more persuasive?”

“And how would you do that?”

“I could throw in some incentive?”

He looked at her, but did not slow his pace.

“What kind of incentive.”

She grabbed his arm to stop him.

“You know, you’re not a very tall man, but you take long strides. Can we stop a minute?”

“Sure.”

They were in front of a cigar store, only one or two storefronts from the Long Branch.

“I’m sorry if my writing about you in today’s edition has caused you any problems,” she said.

“It hasn’t.”

She opened her mouth to continue, then closed it when she realized what he’d said.

“It hasn’t?”

“No,” he said, “but it might, in the future. And it’s not that I’m so well known I don’t want people reading about me. It’s just the opposite.”

“You don’t want to be well known?”

“No,” he said, “I don’t.”

“That makes you a rare man,” she said. “Most men want a reputation.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Why?” she asked curiously. “Are you running from something?”

“I’m not wanted, if that’s what you mean.”

“That,” she said, “or anything else. Is there a wife you left behind who’d like to find you? Someone you owe money to? Or an old enemy?”

“Miss Healy,” he said, deliberately, “this is beginning to sound suspiciously like an interview.”

“It can’t be an interview.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a pad,” she said. “When I don’t have something to write on, I can’t do an interview. This is just me being nosy.”

“Well,” he said, “I don’t answer nosy questions, either.”

He started to walk again, so quickly that it took her a few strides to catch up.

“Where are we going?”

“We are not going anywhere,” he said. “I’m going to the Long Branch Saloon.”

“Good,” she said. “I could use an afternoon drink.”

“Miss Healy—”

“I’ll buy,” she said. “Not as an incentive, just to be nice. Whataya say?”

They were in front of the Long Branch’s batwing doors, so he stopped and turned to her.

“All right,” he said, finally, “one drink.”