Butler's Wager

CHAPTER 30

Kevin Ryerson rode into Dodge while Butler and Ben Thompson were having breakfast. The day’s business had already started and Front Street had enough going on that no one paid him any special mind. He wore nondescript trail clothes, and rode an equally unremarkable-looking mare. There was nothing about the man that would make anyone notice him, which was the way he preferred it.

He found the livery, put up his horse, and then asked the liveryman for a cheap hotel. He wasn’t looking for something cheap so much as something out of the way. Armed with directions, he walked back through town carrying his saddlebags and rifle. He’d never been to Dodge City before, and was not particularly impressed with its history. He took Dodge’s reputation the same way he took the reputation of men—with a grain of salt. Too many times he had found the reputations of men to be overblown and unearned. Why should a town be any different?

He passed the Dodge House and gave it a brief look. He knew the kind of people who’d be staying there. Swells, gamblers, high-class ladies—none of them his kind of people.

He found his hotel, a somewhat rundown establishment that, nevertheless, was this side of the red-light district. He checked in, got a room overlooking the street, dumped his belonging on the bed. The mattress was thin, but it was better than sitting on the ground. He had a steak on his mind, and a drink, and then after that he’d get down to business.

Butler and Thompson finished breakfast and left the Dodge House together.

“I’m off to the local gunsmith,” Thompson said. “I need some work done on my Peacemaker.” He indicated the single-action Colt Peacemaker on his hip.

It was the days that were difficult for a gambler, finding something to do while they waited for the saloons and gambling halls to open.

“I believe I’ll try to find myself an afternoon poker game,” Butler said. He’d waited most of yesterday, ended up playing only at night and did quite well. If his luck was good, he might as well press it during the day, he thought.

“Good luck to you, then,” Thompson said. “Maybe we’ll find ourselves at the same table again tonight.”

The two bade one another good day and went their separate ways.

Red Sandland watched as Butler and Ben Thompson went in opposite directions. That suited him. He did not want to be anywhere near Ben Thompson when the man had a gun in his hand.

Sandland had actually done something smart, which qualified this a landmark day in his life. He had positioned both Willy and Dave so that when Butler left his hotel, none of the three of them had to tail him. They were stationed in such a way that they could monitor his progress all along Front Street. If he happened to leave Front Street they’d be in big trouble, but lucky for them he didn’t. He went directly to the Lady Gay and tried the front door, which happened to be open even though the saloon was not.

As he went in, the three men left their positions to meet up directly across the street from the saloon.

When Butler walked into the Lady Gay, Al Updegraff was using a broom on the floor in front of the bar. He looked up, saw Butler, and froze. His gun was behind the bar. If Sandland and his idiots had named Updegraff as the man who sent them to try and kill him, he was in trouble.

As it happened, Butler smiled at him and asked, “Is Jim Masterson around?”

“We’re closed,” Updegraff said. “I just got the door open to get some air.”

“I can see that,” Butler said. “I’m looking for Masterson.”

Updegraff jerked his chin upward and said, “He ain’t come down yet.”

“I think I’ll wait for him.”

“Suit yourself.” Updegraff had considered kicking Butler out, but decided against it.

“You the bartender?”

“That’s me,” Updegraff said. “Bartender, and swamper.”

“Let me ask you. What do you think the chances are of me getting up an afternoon poker game?”

Updegraff stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom handle, holding it in both hands.

“Pretty damned good, I’d say,” he answered. “The town’s full of gamblers. Not good ones, but gamblers.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Seems I saw you in here before,” Updegraff said, pretending not to recognize Butler.

“That’s because I’ve been in here before.”

“Last night,” the barkeep said, “you were playing poker with Ben Thompson.”

“So I was.”

Updegraff used his broom to get himself close to the door. He peered out the window and saw Sandland across the street with Dave and Willy. This was good. They had Butler spotted. Updegraff decided to do what he could to keep Butler there, until the three men decided their plan.

“Got some coffee on,” he told Butler. “Wanna cup?”

“Sure,” Butler said, “thanks.”

“I just got to go back to the kitchen,” Updegraff said. “I’ll be right back.”

Butler nodded, watched the man go behind the bar and disappear through a doorway, broom and all.

“What do we do?” Willy asked.

“The Lady Gay is closed,” Dave said. “We gotta wait.”

“We don’t gotta wait,” Sandland said. “The front door’s open, there ain’t nobody in there but Al Updegraff.”

“How do you know that?” Willy asked.

“I seen him sweepin’.”

“So what do we do?” Willy asked.

“We go in,” Sandland said. “We go in and we take him.”

“Now?” Dave asked.

“Right now,” Sandland said. “Check your guns. We don’t want no mistakes.”

As they checked their loads they didn’t notice the man watching them. He had come down the street, spotted them, and stopped to watch. Now, as they were checking their weapons, he knew just what they had in mind.

From the kitchen Updegraff looked outside to see what Sandland and the others were doing. When he saw them all draw their guns and check them, he knew they were ready. He poured a cup of coffee and went back into the saloon.

Butler watched the bartender walk toward him with a cup of steaming coffee.

“There ya go,” Updegraff said, setting it in front of him.

“Much obliged.”

As Updegraff wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, he saw the batwing doors swing inward quietly. Red Sandland appeared, gun in hand. Behind him came his two partners. Updegraff had to get out of the line of fire, and fast.

“I gotta get back to work,” he said to Butler, and scurried to get to the safety of the bar.

At that moment Butler saw the three men who had entered, recognized the one in the center. They were fanned out in front of the door, facing him. If not for the bartender, he might have noticed them sooner. The bartender had suddenly ducked down behind the bar…

“I was wondering when I’d see you again,” Butler said. “Brought some friends, I see.”

“Mister,” Sandland said, “we ain’t here to talk.”

“Well, if you’re here to bushwhack me you’re out of luck. I never sit with my back to the door. It’s a bad habit. You should’ve come in a window, or a back door.”

“It don’t matter,” the middle man, Sandland, said. “We got you three to one.”

“Fair odds, do you think?”

“Mister,” Red Sandland said, “fair ain’t got nothin’ to do with nothin’.”

“You’re right about that,” Butler said. He picked up the cup of coffee with his left hand and sipped it. He could see that the nonchalant move unnerved the men.

Undoubtedly, they were wondering why he wasn’t more worried, or scared.

It wouldn’t do to have them know he was both.