Suited for Luck

by Daniel Schinhofen

“Very well. Can you use the private dining room for that?”

  “Table should be large enough,” Doc nodded. “Are you going to announce the first tournament?”

  “Once you’ve taught the dealers and we can open up the game to the public.”

  “Sound,” Doc agreed. “I need to find more leverage to deal with Brand, Suez, and Goodman.”

  “Unless you have a bank account worth a few hundred thousand, it’ll be difficult.”

  “Yeah. When do you think you’ll be able to arrange the dealers?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I’ll make sure to be available,” Doc smiled.

  “Doc... about your offer. I don’t ask people for help, but the Lily is special to me. If you’re willing to help me reclaim her… I’d be indebted to you.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but I do need to get in on the special side bets that the big three make during their games.”

  “You’d have to have a bankroll big enough to entice them. If you don’t, you’ll have to make a lucky strike in the wild.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Doc agreed. “The first tournament doesn’t matter, besides getting people excited, but the monthly and yearly tournament will. How far off is your three-year mark?”

  “Summer solstice,” Lia replied.

  Doc thought about it for a minute. “Okay... we need a week for the word to get out and the game to be learned, then we could start the tournaments. If you can set the monthly ones to land on the second weekend of the month, the first yearly tournament could be the day after the one in June. That gives me three months to figure something out and make sure I have the buy-in for the yearly tournament.”

  “I need to ensure the game is known and people enjoy it,” Lia nodded. “Are you sure about the bad-beat mechanic?”

  “Yes, trust me. It’s something people look forward to. Every day it’s not hit, the pot goes up a bit more. The minimum is good because it won’t break you even if it gets hit repeatedly in one night. It’s the thrill that, even if your hand gets beat, you still get something out of it. That will keep them betting into a big hand. You might not have lost the Lily if this was a thing already.”

  “If wishes were horses, we’d run the plains without stopping,” Lia said softly.

  “Making wishes reality is fun,” Doc chuckled as he finished his wine and stood up. “I have today to plan a trip, then tomorrow I’ll be teaching the dealers, and after that, I’ll go out to find the lucky strike I need to make this work.”

  “You make it seem like it will all happen.”

  “I have faith. Luck will provide,” Doc said as he gave her a small bow. Putting his hat on when he reached the door, he paused just long enough to say one more thing, “Oh, and before I forget— my room has bed bugs.”

  “I’ll have them killed today,” Lia said, absently watching him go with a puzzled look on her face.

  ~*~*~

  “Well? What was that all about?” Dillon asked when Doc came out of the back. “She doesn’t ask just anyone back to her room.”

  “Haven’t seen her room, just her study,” Doc replied with a smirk.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Business,” Doc said, dropping the act. “Some things are in the works and, if it goes the way I hope, everything will get interesting for a bit.”

  “Interesting how?”

  “Wait and see,” Doc chuckled as he kept walking to the door.

  Stepping outside, he pulled his jacket closer around him. The cold wind from the last few days was still chilling the air. I’ll need a horse and some travel goods, Doc thought, making a list. Let’s see if a horse is even up for renting. At least the livery stables and general store are near each other.

  The livery stables were near the edge of town. Doc walked into the front door of the attached building where, inside, a young man was sitting behind a counter. He jumped to his feet when Doc came in.

  “How can I help you, sir?”

  “I was hoping that you do horse rentals. I want to make a trip out of town for a few days and don’t need to own one for such a short time.”

  “Oh, you mean to go out prospecting? We don’t rent them, but we’ll buy the horse back at a small loss to you if you come back.”

  Doc couldn’t argue the logic behind that business model. “How much for a decent horse? I don’t need a Thunder, Lightning, or any other fast temperamental thing. In fact, a mare that is placid and does what it’s told would be for the best.”

  The young man laughed, “Fair. It’s only ranchers and horse thieves that want fast-spirited horses. If you’re going out to do light prospecting, you’ll still want a packhorse. For a rider and pack, it’ll be a hundred twenty, tack included.”

  “And if I bring them both back in good health?”

  “We’d buy them back for a hundred or less, depending on their condition.”

  “Steep, but doable. I’d need them for the day after tomorrow.”

  “I can have two readied for you. You getting supplies from next door?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Just let them know you have mounts here and we’ll get it all loaded for you, if you don’t mind another couple dollars fee.”

  “That’s fine,” Doc chuckled. “Pay when I pick them up?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll see you in two days, then,” Doc said, extending his hand. “I’m Doc Holyday.”

  “Well, Mr. Holyday, we’ll have your horses ready for you.”

  With his business concluded, Doc left the livery stables behind and walked into the general store. Doc had to step aside as soon as he entered when a woman came bustling toward the door.

  “Ma’am,” Doc said, tipping his hat and holding the door open for her.

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied in passing.

  Closing the door behind her, Doc took in the overall store. It was clean and had a clear division of goods, but the organization could have used a little bit of work. An old man with long and drooping dog ears stood behind the counter.

  Doc didn’t bother looking over the shelves, going straight up to the counter instead. “Morning.”

  “Morning, sir. How can I help you?” the old man asked, his words a long slow drawl.

  Doc did his best to hide his smile, as the ears and voice made him think of a basset hound. “I am making a quick trip into the wilds near the town to take a gander for easy prospecting places. I just arranged horses next door and came over here to arrange goods for the trip.”

  “We can help with that.”

  “That was my hope. The trick is that I’ve never gone out to prospect before, but I’m sure you’ve seen a lot who have. Could you outfit my trip? At most, it’d be a week in total.”

  The man blinked at him slowly. “You want me to pick out your supplies?”

  “Yeah. I’ll pay a bonus if you do it.”

  “I can manage that. Goods will run you forty dollars.”

  Doc kept his smile in place, even though the price was close to the end of his budget. “Very well.” Pulling out a single twenty-dollar gold coin, he dropped it on the counter. “Can I pay for half now and half on pick up in two days?”

  “All goods have to be paid for upfront. Rule of the store, sir.”

  “Ah, my apologies,” Doc said. He counted out twenty-four more dollars, leaving him with just twelve dollars remaining. “Forty-four dollars— forty for the goods and four for you. That satisfactory?”

  “Yes, sir,” the old man said with a grin.

  “Thank you. Makes this much easier on me. Now to go scrounge up more funds.”

  “Have a good day, sir.”

  “Holyday. Doc Holyday.”

  The old man nodded, “It’ll all be ready, Mr. Holyday.”

  Doc shook hands with him before leaving the general store.

  Stepping back into the chill wind, Doc grimaced. Time to hit the tables for the rest of the day... this trip is going to take all my winni
ngs from the other day and then some. He exhaled and started walking toward the Lily, hoping that the smaller game was open already.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Doc had only taken a couple of steps when he remembered one more thing he would need to go out of town. Looking around, he spotted the shop he wanted and crossed the street. Just as he stepped off the dirt road, several men came riding on horseback hard down the street. Doc glanced at them with disapproval and caught sight of the rough-looking, heavily-armed men riding away from him. He shook his head before entering the gunsmith’s shop.

  The short broad dwarf behind the counter gave Doc an appraising look. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I need a long gun and possibly a pistol,” Doc replied. “I wanted to check to see what you had and what kind of money I’d need for them.”

  The dwarf nodded, “Depending on what you want, the price does fluctuate a good deal. The simple ones start at about ten dollars, but if you want engraved pistols, you’re talking upwards of a hundred.”

  Doc blinked a few times. “Well, I don’t think I’m going for an engraved gun, not unless I’m exceedingly lucky today. Can I see a few of them?”

  “That is possible. What kind of long gun are you looking for? Rifle or shotgun?”

  “Rifle, though I might want a short shotgun for close range instead of a pistol.”

  “Are you a good shot?” the gunsmith asked.

  “Haven’t done much shooting lately, so I can’t say for certain, but I used to be decent.”

  “I’d recommend the shotgun if you haven’t done much shooting, but if you’re a fair hand, a pistol would do you better for close up. But let’s start with rifles.” Turning his back to Doc, he pointed at some of the rifles hanging on the wall behind him. “That there is a Hunter— it has an internal fifteen round magazine and makes for quick shooting if you can handle the recoil. Or if you don’t want to worry about different ammunition types, you could go with the Westchest 73 and a Mustang Army. They use the same ammo.”

  Doc held back a smile as he thought about how close some of the names were to guns from his world. “What would the pair cost?”

  “Unengraved, the pair would run about forty with enough ammo to load and reload twice.”

  “Do you have a pair engraved?”

  “I do, but as I stated earlier, they’re expensive. The pair of engraved firearms would run a hundred sixty.”

  “What engravings?” Doc asked, hoping his question was right.

  “The rifle engraving carries more power behind it, making it hit almost as hard as an Express rifle. The pistol engraving coats the bullet with a bit of caustic energy. It’s nasty work. Makes wounds harder for a doctor to deal with.”

  “I see. Can I get the Mustang Army for now?”

  “Yeah. Pistol with ammo and reload is ten dollars. If you need a belt for it, it’ll be eleven fifty.”

  Doc looked down at his lack of a pistol belt. “Belt as well, please.” Fishing out the last of his money, he placed it on the counter. “Can I get the rest in extra ammo?”

  “Easily,” the dwarf grinned as he picked up the cash. “If you bring me back your casings, I give a discount for ammo.”

  “Good to know,” Doc chuckled. “I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up the rifle. What is the load for both?”

  “They fire in .38-40.”

  At least the ammo sizes are something I know, Doc thought.

  The dwarf was back with the gun, ammo, and belt in short order. Doc was glad he had done a few old west reenactments when he was younger, so he knew how to get the belt settled.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” the dwarf laughed. “Hardly ever thanked for taking money from others.”

  “Didn’t get your name,” Doc said as he stepped to the side and pushed the ammo into its belt slots.

  “I’m Blackbeard. This is my shop,” the dwarf said.

  “Ah, I wasn’t sure. I’m Doc Holyday. I’m sure we’ll be doing some more business together in the future.”

  “Always glad to sell to those who can afford it,” Blackbeard grinned, his teeth barely visible behind his thick black beard. “Seems you’ve at least handled the equipment before.”

  “Used to shoot,” Doc said, laying the new pistol on the counter so he could load it. “Haven’t had a need to in a while, is all.”

  “Why the urge to rearm now?”

  “Going into the wilds. Don’t fancy going unarmed.”

  “That’d be a quick way to die,” Blackbeard agreed. “Then again, we do get all kinds out here. I pegged you for an easterner first, but the way you’re moving, I think I’m wrong.”

  “Not entirely,” Doc said as he picked up the gun and half-cocked it. Opening up the loading gate, he started to slide the rounds in. “Lived in civilization and the frontier. Of the two, I prefer the west.”

  “Came looking to make your fortune?”

  “Letting Luck guide me,” Doc said.

  “Quick way to die,” Blackbeard said.

  “Depends on how much faith you have in her,” Doc said as he slid the loaded pistol into its holster. Touching the handle, he adjusted the belt so it was at the angle he wanted. “I find the more faith one has, the better off they are.”

  Blackbeard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Interesting thing to say.”

  “Just the way I live my life now,” Doc said as he put the rest of the box of ammo into his pocket. “See you tomorrow, sir.”

  “I’ll have the rifle waiting for you if you bring the thirty to buy it.”

  “See you after breakfast,” Doc grinned as he headed for the door.

  As Doc stepped outside, the wind blew harder, biting into him. “Maybe going out in a couple of days is a bad idea,” Doc muttered.

  He was almost back at the Lily when he saw the men from earlier again. They were spread out near the courthouse, their horses tied to a post a few buildings away. The hairs on the back of Doc’s neck lifted— he had a bad feeling about what he was seeing.

  Stepping into the Lily, he caught sight of Dillon behind the bar. “Dillon, is there something happening at the courthouse today?”

  “Marshal is giving testimony about his arrest the other day,” Dillon said. “He left an hour ago.”

  “Fuck!” Doc exclaimed, spinning on his heel and rushing out the door. This is dumb, this is dumb! he thought as he ran down the street.

  The six men were watching the courthouse. Each of them had a gun in hand and were trying to act nonchalantly. Doc slowed his pace, pretending he was lost or maybe window shopping. A few seconds later, he was glad he did; two of them looked back at him curiously before turning back to watch the courthouse.

  Thank Luck for long jackets, Doc thought as he pulled it tighter to him. The only thing hinting that he had a gun was the very tip of the holster coming out from under his jacket.

  Doc was just within twenty feet of the men when the front doors of the courthouse opened. Wenn was talking to Sheriff Grange when the first shots rang out. There were screams and curses as both men jumped clear of the door, trying to use the front posts as cover.

  Doc pulled the pistol from his hip and took the time to aim at the second closest man. The recoil brought the gun well off target, but the man crumpled to the ground.

  The shooter closest to Doc spun to return fire, but Doc used missed me to buy the second he needed to bring the large pistol on target. Holding the gun tight, he fanned the hammer, the other five rounds coming out in rapid succession.

  Bleeding, the man was able to get one more shot off before dropping his gun. Doc hissed in pain and slumped against the wall of the cobbler’s shop. Blood flowed from the wound in his left hip. He limped around the corner just before another round hit the wall where he had been.

  Holstering the gun, he focused on healing hands and pressed his hands to his injured hip. Doc exhaled in both pain and relief, then was surprised when the bullet popped out of the wound. Once the pain was gone, he fumbled
the pistol back out and began to reload it. His bloody hands were slicker than he anticipated, almost making him drop the gun and forcing him to wipe his hands clean before he could continue.

  The sound of gunshots being exchanged continued while he finished loading the gun. Finally reloaded, he glanced around the corner to find that there were only two of the ambushers still left alive. Both had taken cover from the courthouse, leaving one in Doc’s sights.