Doctor and the Kid, The (A Weird West Tale) (Weird West Tales) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Holliday in a tone of voice that convinced Vermillion to drop the subject.
    They played four hands. Wilson won two, Vermillion won the other two.
    “Let's up the ante to two hundred,” said Holliday. “I've got to start winning some of my money back.”
    “No objection,” said Wilson.
    “Me neither,” added Vermillion.
    Wilde studied Holliday closely. The man was starting to smell like a distillery, he had a little trouble picking up and fanning his cards, and whenever he looked at his cards he blinked his eyes several times as if trying to focus them. Vermillion opened with one hundred dollars, Holliday raised him with a pair of eights, Wilson dropped out, and Holliday drew a third eight to win the hand.
    It was Holliday's turn to deal. He shuffled the cards awkwardly, poured yet another drink to steady his hands, shoved his ante into the middle of the table, and dealt. Wilde looked over his shoulder as he picked up his cards and slowly fanned his hand. He had two kings, a jack, a three, and a deuce.
    Wilson shoved a thousand dollars into the center of the table. Vermillion took one look at his hand and folded. Holliday pulled out his bankroll and peeled off a thousand.
    “How many cards, sir?” he asked Wilson.
    “None.”
    “Dealer takes two,” said Holliday, discarding his deuce and three, and dealing himself two more cards. He picked them up and slowly fanned his hand to reveal a third king and a six.
    Wilson counted the pile of money in front of him and pushed it all into the center of the table. “Sixty-three hundred dollars,” he announced.
    Wilde was sure Holliday would fold, but the gambler pulled out his bankroll and put it down next to Wilson's bet. “See you and raise you.”
    “How much?” asked Wilson.
    Holliday shrugged. “Whatever's in the pile,” he slurred.
    Vermillion counted it and turned to Wilson. “It'll cost you eleven thousand one hundred and fifty to see him.”
    “I haven't got it.”
    “I will not accept the marker of a corset salesman,” said Holliday.
    “We'll get it,” said Vermillion. He signaled seven or eight of the patrons over. “Look at his hand, gents. Who wants to buy in?”
    It took ten minutes, but finally they'd collected enough to match Holliday's bet, and Wilson laid down his hand, face up. It contained four queens and an ace.
    “Nice try,” said Holliday, laying out his own. “Four kings.”
    “What are you talking about?” demanded Wilson. “That's three kings and a jack.”
    “What are you talking about?” Holliday shot back angrily. He got unsteadily to his feet, placed his hands on either side of his cards, and lowered his head until it was mere inches above the table. He stared at the cards, blinked furiously, then stared again. “Well, I'll be damned!” he muttered, and collapsed.

 
    T
     
HE M ONARCH WAS EMPTY , except for the bartender, when Holliday awoke. It took him a few minutes to remember what had happened, and another to realize that he was now all but penniless, every dollar he had saved for the sanitarium gone because he'd been too drunk to tell a jack from a king.
    He got to his feet, steadied himself for a moment, and then staggered out into the night. Harrison Street was empty except for a single coyote that stared at him, unafraid.
    Holliday pulled out his gun and aimed it at the animal.
    “It will have no effect,” said the coyote.
    Holliday tried to focus his eyes as it grew into an Apache warrior, the same one he had seen earlier.
    “Goyathlay knew this night would come,” said the warrior.
    “Bully for him,” muttered Holliday. “Did he send you here to gloat?”
    The warrior shook his head. “To remind you that you have worked together once before.”
    “You reminded me already. What kind of deal does he have in mind?”
    “Soon you will know.”
    “Damn it!” growled Holliday. “I'm in no mood for guessing games. I just lost every penny I have. Now tell me what he wants, or leave me the hell