Butler's Wager

CHAPTER 43

Butler moved through the crowded saloon until he came to a setup of three poker tables, all completely filled. Off to one side he noticed Dog Kelley, but rather than watching the game the man looked like he was just staring off into space. Butler sidled up next to the man and waited to be noticed.

“Oh, Mr. Butler,” Kelley said finally. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was…somewhere else.”

“I’ve been there, Mr. Kelley,” Butler said. “Sometimes it’s a better place.”

“And sometimes not,” Kelley said. “And I thought I asked you to call me Dog.”

“Dog, it is. Have you seen Ben Thompson tonight?”

“I haven’t,” Kelley said. “I was thinkin’ he might have left town.”

“Really? I had breakfast with him and he didn’t say a word about that.”

“Maybe I got it wrong, then,” Kelley said. “He’s probably gambling over at the Lady Gay, or the Long Branch tonight.”

“I was at the Lady Gay and he wasn’t there. I’ll give the Long Branch a try.”

Kelley turned his body so that he faced Butler.

“If you’re lookin’ for a game, I can set up a table for you. I’m sure we can get some more players.”

Butler looked at the men who were manning the three tables and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Believe me,” Kelley added, “I can make sure you have a level of competition you’re comfortable with.”

“I appreciate that,” Butler said, “and I might take you up on it later, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Kelley said. “I’ll accommodate you any time. I’ve also beefed up my security here, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry about a repeat of what happened this morning.”

“That’s good to know,” Butler said.

He was tempted to ask Kelley if there was a back way out he could use, but decided against it. If Ryerson was in Dodge looking for him, he’d have to face it, soon enough.

“Well, I better be going. Oh, Neal Brown asked me to tell you that he and Jim Masterson would be over a little later on.”

“Good,” Kelley said. “I haven’t seen either of them all day. Obliged for the message.”

Butler made his way back through the crowd and found Ryerson waiting by the batwing doors.

“Didn’t think you’d be much longer.”

The man seemed good-natured as they came, but Butler suspected it was an act. They were about the same age, but Ryerson was clearly a man of the West. His clothes were clean, but they wore trail clothes, and his gun was well taken care of.

They left the Alhambra and headed down the street to the Long Branch. It was dark now and they were guided by both the brightness of the place and the noise. They could hear Chalk Beeson’s five-man orchestra playing, and somebody was trying to sing above the din.

As they entered, Butler realized that the Long Branch was the premier drinking, gambling establishment in town. While there were at least sixteen saloons in Dodge, they all provided one or two services, while the Long Branch provided everything and more.

“Quite a place,” Ryerson said, as they stood inside the batwing doors.

They moved over toward the two-piece cherrywood bar and managed to elbow into place just opposite the two stuffed golden eagles that Beeson kept behind it. They managed to find a place at the bar only because the Long Branch was bigger than the Alhambra, and had more room.

“Two beers!” Butler shouted to the bartender, who nodded and set them up. They were ice cold.

“That ain’t the cowboy band I heard so much about,” Ryerson said, eyeing the orchestra.

“No,” Butler said, “I heard that Beeson is out of town right now with the band.”

They had to either shout to be heard or lean in close to each other.

“I want to check out the gambling,” Butler said.

“Go ahead,” Ryerson said, raising his mug. “I don’t gamble. I’m good right here.”

“See you later.”

“Thanks for the beer.”

Butler waved off the thanks. He was only repaying the beer he’d had at the Alhambra.

He moved through the crowd. There had to be more people here than at the Alhambra, yet it was easier to get around. It wasn’t only that it was bigger, but it seemed to have been laid out with more thought given to gamblers and drinkers.

Butler found his way to the tables, which were running blackjack, roulette, red dog, chuck-a-luck, and poker. Off to one side he saw Trixie dealing at her faro table.

The poker tables were in full swing, most with house dealers. One table did not have a house dealer but was playing dealer’s choice, and Butler was not surprised to find Ben Thompson sitting right there, in the midst of all the action. He was in the middle of a hand—which he ultimately won—and while raking in his chips he looked up, locked eyes with Butler, and nodded. Butler returned the nod. Thompson raised his eyebrows, as if to ask “Are you gonna play?” and Butler made a gesture as if checking a pocket watch, then raised his beer, as if to reply, “In a while, when I finish this.”

Butler took his beer back over to the faro table to watch Trixie deal for a while. She was wearing a gown that was even lower cut than last time, and her creamy breasts seemed ready to spill out, even more so when she would take a deep breath—which she seemed to do at strategic times. Butler knew that Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday dealt faro, and had probably dealt it here, but they certainly did not have Trixie’s God-given advantage.

He watched as men approached the table, kept their heads bowed, then turned and walked off as she took their money. At one point she saw him and graced him with a smile even while she was shuffling the cards. Her hands were amazingly dexterous and he watched them with fascination, wishing he could handle cards that well. He wondered just how talented she was with the deal, whether it be faro or poker.

He felt someone come up beside him. It was Bill Harris, part owner of the Long Branch.

Suddenly the music stopped and it was much easier to talk.

“Glad to see you back.”

“She’s very good, isn’t she?” Butler said.

“She’s the best I ever saw,” Harris said, “and I saw Doc Holliday deal.”

Butler took a sip of his beer, realized he was down to the bottom of his mug.

“Another one?” Harris asked. “I can have a girl bring it over.”

“No,” Butler said. “Thanks, I’m done drinking.”

“Time to gamble, then?”

Butler had forgotten how annoying Bill Harris had been the last time he was there, but on the other hand he had won a lot of money, so the place felt lucky to him.

“I think so.”

“Want to try Trixie?”

“Faro’s not really my game.”

“Poker, then?”

“Poker,” Butler confirmed.

Harris took his empty mug and handed it to a passing girl.

“This way,” he said.

Butler almost told him he could find it himself, but thought better of it. If there was a question about who got an empty seat at one of the tables it couldn’t hurt to have Harris on his side.

“Lead the way, Bill.”