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

dollars?”
    “Another fifty to stay in, Doc,” announced Vermillion.
    Holliday pulled a fifty out of the wad.
    “Don't you want to look at the two cards you drew first?” asked Wilde.
    “If there's another raise, I may very well do that,” said Holliday. He looked at the empty bottle in front of him, frowned, and snapped his fingers to get the robot bartender's attention. “Another bottle over here,” he ordered.
    “Since you are the proprietor there will be no charge,” announced the robot, walking out from behind the bar and carrying the bottle over to the table.
    “Damned generous of you,” said Holliday sardonically.
    “Thank you, sir,” said the robot.
    “Call me Doc.”
    “Thank you, sir Doc.”
    “I've got to talk to Tom about you,” said Holliday. He gestured to the bar. “Go back to making money.”
    “I do not make money, sir Doc,” replied the robot. “I serve drinks.”
    “I stand corrected.”
    “You sit corrected.”
    “Whatever.”
    “Call,” said one of the players.
    “Three ladies,” announced Vermillion.
    “Shit,” muttered the man who had called. “Beats two pairs.”
    Vermillion turned to Holliday. “What have you got, Doc?”
    “Let's see,” said Holliday, laying down two aces and a jack. He turned up the two cards he'd drawn, an eight and a six.
    “Maybe I should have looked first,” he said, pouring another drink.
    The game continued until midnight, at which time the other two players had left, and Holliday and Vermillion were waiting for someone to join them. Suddenly there was a loud “Yahoo!” from the far side of the room, and a well-dressed man stood up from a table. He surveyed the room, saw that the crowd had thinned down to perhaps twenty men, and announced that he was buying drinks for the house.
    “Here it comes,” said a grinning Vermillion to Wilde.
    “The house cannot drink, sir,” said the bartender. “Only humans can.”
    Wilde chuckled in amusement.
    “All right,” said the man. “Drinks for all the humans.” He walked over to the bar and slapped a bill down on it. Then his gaze fell on Holliday, and he walked over. “You gents still playing?”
    “Care to join us?” said Holliday.
    The man sat down at the table. “My name's Wilson,” he said. “Henry Wilson. Selling ladies' dresses, corsets, and shoes town-to-town.”
    “John Henry Holliday,” said Holliday, “and this is Jack Vermillion.”
    “I've heard of you both,” said Wilson. He smiled at Wilde. “And I was at your lecture last night. You're a fine speaker, sir.”
    “Thank you,” said Wilde. “I'm even a better writer. I hope you'll consider buying my book before you leave town.”
    “Why not?” said Wilson. “It gets mighty lonely riding the stage from town to town, especially since Mr. Buntline created that damned horseless coach.”
    “Why would that make you lonelier?” asked Wilde. “You get to where you're going faster.”
    “Ah, but you don't stop to rest and water the horses a few times a day, so you don't get to visit along the way.”
    “Man's got a point,” agreed Vermillion.
    “Well, gentlemen, I feel lucky tonight,” announced Wilson.
    “What's the game?”
    “Been playing draw for the past hour,” replied Vermillion.
    “That suits me fine,” said Wilson. “And how much to play?”
    “As long as you're having a good night,” said Holliday, “let's make it a hundred.”
    “That's a lot of corsets and unmentionables,” said Wilson thoughtfully. Then he shrugged. “What the hell. I'm playing with other people's money anyway. When it's gone, I'll take mine back to the hotel with me and dream about how I might have beaten the famous Doc Holliday.”
    “I like your attitude, sir,” said Holliday. He noticed that his bottle was empty and called for another.
    “You ought to take it a little easy, Doc,” said Vermillion. “That's your third bottle tonight.”
    Holliday shrugged. “I'm thirsty.”
    “But—”
    “Enough,” said