“Now you’re pushing it.”
“Armando could have bought every pot for the last hour,” Kahn pointed out as he waved a hand toward the Mexican. “But he didn’t. Marc slipped up and bet more than he had a while ago,” he said with another wave toward the redhead. “We let it go. This is a friendly game.”
Doc coughed and ran the edge of his finger along the bottom of his mustache. “There’s a big difference between you and them, Henry. I don’t particularly like you.”
Kahn shot up from his chair and slammed both hands down upon the table. Upon seeing that, Doc leaned back and shrugged just enough to free the handles of his guns from beneath his coat. Armando protected his chips and Marc Abel scooted his chair back so he could slap one hand against the gun at his side.
“I got connections to half the business owners in this town,” Kahn growled. “I can put this whole damn saloon up for a bet if I wanted to.”
Watching Kahn’s display got Doc laughing so hard that he almost had a hard time forming his words. “Now, that would be impressive! Too bad you didn’t put so much effort into learning how to count.”
Most everyone else in the saloon stopped what they were doing so they could put some distance between themselves and Doc’s table.
“Take a look, everybody!” Kahn shouted to the entire saloon. “This skinny little asshole is too chickenshit to play like a man!”
“Is this how all of your games turn out?” Doc asked. “Because then it’s no wonder you can’t earn enough to leave this trading post.”
“What’s going on there, Henry?” the bartender shouted.
“This prick is . . . he’s . . .”
“What?”
“Yes, Henry,” Doc said smoothly. “What am I doing that’s worth all this fuss?”
Letting out a breath, Kahn lowered himself into his chair. Rather than slam his hands against the table again, he patted them onto the chipped wood and straightened some of the mess he’d made.
Once everyone at the table took their spots again, the rest of the saloon lost interest in them.
“Fine,” Kahn said. “If that’s how we want to play, that’s how we play.”
“No more of this shit again, though,” Armando said. “Agreed?”
“Hell, yes, I agree.” Abel chuckled. “I don’t want to be raised out of every game.”
Doc nodded. “That’s reasonable. As a matter of fact, I’m willing to shake hands and chop the pot right now.”
Kahn shook his head. “No need for that. Let’s keep the bet the way it is and show our cards. Winner takes it.”
“How very civil of you,” Doc replied. “Unfortunately, as you can see, your outburst has upset this table beyond repair.”
Glancing down at the tussled cards, Kahn started to shake his head. “I didn’t do that. You messed up those cards.”
“I certainly didn’t pound on the table.”
The longer Kahn glared at Doc, the more his eye twitched. “You know I had a good hand.”
“I think everyone knows by now.”
“You messed up those cards so you wouldn’t have to show. That’s also why you wanted to chop the pot rather than play the hand through.” Kahn shook his head some more and waved off the rest of the table. “You’re a cowardly little prick who’s too drunk to play a straight game of poker.”
Although it wasn’t as big of a scene as what had transpired before, Doc could feel the eyes of everyone in that saloon turning his way. “What did you say?” he asked.
“You heard me, Holliday.”
Breckenridge may have been a small excuse for a town, but it had caught the attention of plenty of gamblers. Many of those gamblers were in town at that moment and enough were in the Reading to be able to spread the word of what they saw to towns much bigger than Breckenridge.
Doc already had to fight twice as hard to be considered strong enough to run his own faro games or hold his own at a table. Being seen as weak enough to be pushed around by the likes of Henry Kahn could not be tolerated.
“No,” Doc said coldly. “I think you should repeat yourself just so we’re clear.”
“You want to make this into a fight? Is that what you want?”
Doc moved his hand away from his gun and reached for the cane that he’d propped against the table. Gripping the cane’s handle, he used it to haul himself up from his chair. “You insist on making a spectacle of yourself, Henry. All I ask is that you make certain nobody misunderstands what you said.”
Kahn got to his feet as well and stepped forward so he was close enough to make himself an awkward target if Doc decided to draw. Just for good measure, he rested his own hand upon the holstered Smith & Wesson on his hip. Speaking in a mocking tone, he pronounced every word as if he was trying to explain a steam engine to a slow child. “I said you are a cowardly . . . little . . . prick . . . who is too drunk . . . to—”
Without taking his eyes off Khan, Doc brought up his cane to drive the handle straight into the other man’s gut. Not only did the chopping blow cut Kahn off in midsentence but it drove a gasping breath out of him as well.
Marc Abel let out a surprised holler and even Armando was caught off his guard enough to reflexively back away from the table and his chips.
Kahn’s first reaction was to draw his gun. He didn’t even clear leather before Doc hit him again with his cane. The polished wooden stick cracked against Kahn’s gun arm and caused the man to grunt in pain. Doc sent the cane straight up to catch Kahn squarely on the chin and snap his head backward.
“Cowardly?” Doc asked as he kicked away his chair. From there, he took a step back from the table and gave himself some room to bring back his cane again. “Who’s the coward now?”
Kahn was too busy covering his head with both arms to respond.
Doc swung the cane at a downward angle to connect with Kahn’s knee. The moment Kahn dropped, Doc set upon him like a lion that had just separated the weakest antelope from its herd.
The cane chopped through the air again and again, landing upon Kahn’s ribs and shoulders with one solid thump after another. When Kahn looked up to speak, he caught the cane’s handle across his face. Kahn might have lost all of his teeth if he hadn’t been quick enough to bring up his arm to shield his jaw from the next blow.
Gritting his teeth, Doc tightened his grip around the cane and brought it down hard enough on Kahn’s shoulder to drop him to his belly. Doc stood over him with the cane raised, but paused before dropping it again. His breathing was forced and sweat poured down his face. Behind him, the saloon’s front door swung open and several men rushed inside.
Loosening his grip on the cane so it could slide through his fingers, Doc caught it at the handle and propped it against the floor the way it was meant to be used. He then reached down and flipped over Kahn’s cards.
“I’ll be damned,” Doc said between rasping breaths. “Looks like you won.”
The men who’d charged into the saloon were directed to the back by several sets of waving fingers. Only a blind man would have missed the sight of Doc standing over the bloody mess named Henry Kahn.
One of the men who’d stormed into the Reading was a stocky Texan with a round face and an unkempt mustache. “What the hell’s going on here?” he asked.
“Just a friendly game,” Doc replied. “Who are you?”
“We’re the law around here, mister. And you’re under arrest.”
19
Thanks to accounts given by both Armando and Marc Abel, both Doc and Henry Kahn were arrested. The stories given by the other two players at that table weren’t as colorful or exaggerated as the ones given by some of the other folks in the saloon, but they all pointed to the fact that both men involved in the scuffle played their parts in bringing it to its conclusion.
Despite the fact that Doc reeked of whiskey, he was more than willing to explain himself to the lawmen after being dragged away from the Reading. The sheriff’s office had a few cells in the back, but they wer
en’t occupied just yet.
“Mr. Kahn accused me of cheating,” Doc told the man with the unkempt mustache. “A gentleman of my upbringing does not take kindly to such words.”
“So you nearly beat him to death with a cane?” the lawman asked.
Glancing down at the empty holsters strapped around his shoulders, Doc replied, “I thought it would be better than the alternative.”
One of the younger lawmen took Kahn to the back of the sheriff’s office so they could speak a little less formally. The man who talked to him had a thin beard that was almost light enough to blend in with his skin.
The deputy leaned against the back wall of the office and asked, “What the hell happened, Henry?”
“You’ve known me for a few years, Cal. I’m not the sort to spill blood every time a hand doesn’t go my way.”
“What did you say to that sick fella?”
“Nothing that called for what he done!”
Cal winced a bit and stared at Kahn. It was true that he was familiar with the gambler, which was why he was giving him a chance to keep talking.
“Fine,” Kahn eventually grunted. “I locked horns with him, but the pecker was cheating.”
“Do you know that for certain?”
Once more, Kahn paused before speaking. Letting out a breath that was part sigh and part growl, he said, “No.”
“What exactly did he do?”
“He . . . aw, forget it.”
Glancing back toward the office where Doc was being held, Cal said, “Everyone in the Reading is talking about how that skinny fella beat you down. If that’s true, we at least got him for—”
“It wasn’t like that!” Kahn snapped. “They didn’t see everything. He got the drop on me, is all. No sick little pecker like that can whip me like a damned dog!”
Although he nodded to what Kahn was saying, Cal couldn’t keep quiet for long. “Maybe you should have a word with some of them drunks down at the Reading before they spread that story too far.”
“Don’t you worry. I will. What about the diseased asshole who swung that cane at me? What’s gonna happen to him?”
“You’re the one that would pursue that further,” Cal replied. “If you don’t show just cause for us to hold him, then you’ll both be turned loose.”
“Has he said anything about me?” Kahn asked.
All Cal had to do was lean into the back door of the office and see the exasperated shake of the sheriff’s head. When he looked back at Kahn, he said, “Looks like he ain’t saying much that’s useful.”
“Then I’ll settle it my way.”
“There’s gonna be a fine.”
“What?”
“For the both of you,” Cal added. “For the disturbance and damage and such.”
“For Christ’s sake, I nearly lost all I got in that damn game!”
“What about your father?”
Kahn’s face darkened and he gritted his teeth. “What if I don’t pay the fine?”
“Then you’ll spend the night in jail. I’ll see to it that it won’t be much longer than that.”
When he looked into the office to find Doc handing over enough money to cover his own fine, Kahn gritted his teeth and snarled, “Fine. Where’s my goddamn cot?”
Less than an hour later, Kahn was released. When he saw Cal pull open the door of his cell, Kahn sat up from his cot and asked, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Your fine’s been paid. Get on out of here.”
“Is my father around?”
The deputy shook his head. “He’s not the one who paid. It was some skinny fellow in a dark suit.”
Kahn jumped from his cot and pulled his coat on as he stormed out of the cell. “That son of a bitch! He’s got some damn nerve if he thinks he can buy me off after what he did.”
“Not that skinny fellow,” Cal added. “Another one. He’s waiting outside.”
Glancing suspiciously out the front door, Kahn asked, “You know who it is?”
Cal shook his head.
“And I’m free to go?”
Cal nodded. “Try to stay out of trouble.”
“And for God’s sake,” the sheriff hollered from behind his desk across from the two cells built into the back of his office, “stay the hell away from that lunger.”
The quick mention of Holliday was enough to put a dark scowl upon Kahn’s face. He didn’t say a word to any of the lawmen as he started to walk out the door. Before he could get more than a step outside, he stopped and turned to look at the sheriff. “Can I have my gun back?”
The lawman with the unruly mustache let out a sigh and stood up. Keeping both hands upon the top of his desk, he locked eyes with Kahn and asked, “You gonna do anything stupid?”
Kahn had to force himself to wait and slip into his poker face before he replied, “No. I’ve had enough of that for a while.”
Although he didn’t seem overly happy about it, the sheriff tossed him his gun belt and then his gun. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you,” he said as he settled back into his chair.
Kahn buckled his holster around his waist and resisted the temptation to reload his pistol right there. Instead, he walked outside and found the skinny man Cal had told him about.
“You the one that paid my fine?” Kahn asked.
The skinny man nodded. “I am. You seemed to need a little help. Samuel Fletcher is the name.”
After shaking the hand Samuel offered, Kahn walked down the street toward the Reading. “I appreciate it, but I didn’t need any help. I would’ve been out of that cell after my nap was done.”
“I’m sure you could use the rest, but you may have missed your chance by then.”
“What chance?”
“The chance to teach Holliday a lesson, of course.”
Kahn stopped in his tracks and squinted at Samuel. “Who are you, mister? What do you know about Holliday?”
“I know he won’t be in town for much longer. I also know he owes me and my partners a whole lot of money.”
“Partners?”
“You ever hear of Dave Rudabaugh?”
Kahn snapped his head back and looked around as if someone had invoked the name of a demon. “You mean Arkansas Dave Rudabaugh, the cow thief?”
“Among other things, but yes.”
“What’s he got to do with Holliday?”
“The particulars aren’t important, but he and one of his accomplices cheated Mr. Rudabaugh and some of his partners out of a considerable amount of money. Since Mr. Rudabaugh is a bit more . . . shall we say . . . recognizable around here, it’s a little more difficult for him to tend to this matter personally.”
Kahn chuckled and said, “Isn’t Rudabaugh wanted for murder and rustling?”
“Yes.”
“I think Wells Fargo put a price on his head.”
“That’s a matter of public record,” Samuel admitted.
When Kahn looked at Samuel again, he made no effort to hide the fact that he was sizing the skinny man up and wasn’t too impressed with what he saw. “I appreciate you paying the fine and all, but I gotta say it’s a whole lot to swallow for me to believe someone like Dave Rudabaugh would ride with someone like you.”
“I don’t exactly ride with him.”
“Then what do you do?”
“Is that important?” Samuel asked.
“It is if you want me to believe what you’re saying. Plus, it seems like you’re about to ask me a favor.”
Standing there on the street, dressed in his simple dark suit, Samuel looked more like a banker than someone who would give Henry Kahn the time of day. At the moment, he also looked like a very annoyed banker.
“Whoever my associates may be, the important thing is that I am willing to pay you to do a job,” Samuel said.
“Is this to work off my fine?”
“No. That was a show of good faith. In addition to that, I’m willing to pay you to do something you probably were already thinking about doing anyway.”
“What’s that?”
“Knock Mr. Holliday senseless.”
Kahn smirked and looked behind him as if he thought the law might have followed him this far down the street. None of the people he saw were too interested in listening to what he and Samuel were saying and none of them wore a badge.
Lowering his voice despite the fact that there didn’t seem to be any suspicious ears nearby, Kahn asked, “You really know Arkansas Dave Rudabaugh?”
Samuel nodded.
“And he’s really got a bone to pick with Holliday?”
“There was some business in the Black Hills that didn’t go the way it should have. Mr. Rudabaugh doesn’t like to be cheated and I don’t appreciate being made to look like a fool.”
Nodding as if he’d suddenly been enlightened, Kahn looked at Samuel in a new way. “You steered Dave toward a job and Holliday mucked it up,” he said. “Is that it?”
Samuel raised his eyebrows as if he’d just heard a mule give a lecture on philosophy. “More or less, that’s correct. Once you knock him out, tie him up and bring him to me. I’ll see to the rest.”
“I’ve worked with fellas like you before. I hired this one little runt to pull some rich suckers into a card game. He was also real good at getting in close to hear juicy talk that was supposed to be kept under someone’s hat because nobody would suspect him of being anything more than a twitchy little weasel.”
Clenching his jaw and blinking in rapid succession, Samuel looked like he was ready to take a swing at Kahn himself. “I’ll pay you a hundred dollars to do the job.”
“Make it three hundred.”
“I’ve been following Holliday since Kansas City and I can follow him for a bit longer if you won’t do the job. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of men willing to earn an easy hundred dollars.”
“Easy, huh?” Kahn scoffed. “Why don’t you do it?”
Samuel stared blankly at him, keeping his chin raised and his lips together in a tight, narrow line.
But Kahn didn’t need to hear any more. He could see all he wanted in Samuel’s face. “You don’t ride with Rudabaugh, but you scout for him. You don’t face a man, but you hire someone else to do it. Just the silent partner, huh? I’ll bet you’re real good at your job.”
The Accomplice: The Silent Partner Page 18
