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eyes glued to the well-dressed man as he reached into his pocket and removed a wad of folded money. “Here’s my stake,” he said with a snarl. “Think you can match it?”
    So far, the gambler’s face hadn’t gone through more than half a change, which took it from casual blankness to amused blankness. Without breaking Mike’s stare, he let his hand wander over the stack of chips in front of him. A few glances toward Mike’s cash were all he needed before the gambler measured out the proper amount of chips and shoved them forward. It was about a quarter of his total.
    “That ought to do it,” the gambler said.
    Mike’s eyes flicked back and forth between his cash and all of the gambler’s chips. Seeing the difference between the two was enough to wipe away some of his previous smugness, but not all of it. Finally, Mike stopped acting like he was on display.
    “Just because we’re playing against each other,” the gambler said, “doesn’t make us enemies.”
    “The hell it don’t. I plan on soaking you for all you got. If I do win, you’ll give me back what you cheated off me before. That’s the deal, and you better have enough to honor it.”
    “Of course.”
    “Then that’s all I need to hear. Oh, and one more thing.” Mike lowered his voice to a deadly serious tone. That intensity cut through all of his previous swagger the way flames cut through a wall of smoke. “If’n I catch you cheating,” he said, motioning toward the gun at his hip, “I’ll burn you down right here in front of God and everybody. You hear me?”
    “Oh, I hear you,” came a voice that didn’t belong to Mike or any of the other players at that table. “Come to think of it, I’d say this whole saloon heard you. That is, of course, if anyone were actually listening.”
    Mike’s brow furrowed, and he twisted around to get a look at who’d just spoken. There wasn’t anyone standing behind him or on either side. Caleb was still glaring at him from near the bar, but it hadn’t been his voice. Then Mike spotted another face that matched the voice and was looking right back at him.
    It was a pale, gaunt face wearing a smile that would have been more comfortable on a skull rather than any living man’s head.
    “Who the hell invited you to this game, Holliday?”
    Caleb’s eyes snapped open wide, and he didn’t even bother to hide the surprised confusion that had showed up on his face. Sure enough, after a bit of sidestepping and craning his neck, Caleb was able to spot the dentist sitting at a table next to the one that he’d been watching this whole time. Holliday’s cold blue eyes shifted in their sunken sockets as if to say hello.
    Ignoring Mike’s question, Holliday glanced over to the gambler dressed in the black suit. “Evenin’, Virgil.”
    Holliday’s drawl seemed especially thick at the moment. It was almost as if his voice had become as relaxed as the rest of him, which was currently lounging in a straightbacked chair as though it was a throne.
    Dressed in his dark suit and sitting behind a healthy stack of chips, Virgil Ellis nodded politely at the dentist. “Evening, Doc. I was wondering if you were going to join us.”
    Feeling like the odd man out, Caleb wheeled around to get a look at Hank. “How long’s he been there?” he asked, pointing out Holliday to the bartender.
    Hank shrugged and shook his head.
    Having already gotten up from his seat, Holliday stepped over to Virgil’s table. “I thought I’d warm up until the real action got here,” he said, smirking toward Mike.
    Although Mike certainly wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, he knew well enough when he was being ridiculed. “Damn right the real action’s here,” Mike huffed, doing a piss-poor job of maintaining his bravado. “Now how about you just go off and hack up a lung somewhere else?”
    Holliday’s chest twitched with a suppressed cough. His face, however, showed no visible reaction. He was wearing clothes that