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were just as dark, if not quite as expensive, as Virgil’s. With one hand, he reached under his jacket in a way that gave the men at the table a glimpse at the holster strapped around his shoulders.
    Mike’s hand twitched toward his gun, but not close enough to set anyone off. His eyes widened in nervous anticipation as he asked, “What the hell are you doing, Holliday?”
    After a slight pause, the dentist eased his hand out from under his jacket. He was holding a leather pouch, leaving the pistol holstered under his arm. He hefted the pouch in his hand, allowing the clink of money from within to be heard. With a flourish, he tossed the pouch onto the middle of the table. Silver dollars spilled from it. Even the glitter of some gold could be seen within the leather container.
    “I’ve got no objections to him sitting in,” Virgil said.
    Still nervous, Mike clenched his jaw and looked around at the others seated at the table. When he didn’t get any support from the rest of the gamblers, he looked down to the money Holliday had offered. Mike let out a breath and licked his lips before finally forcing himself to relax. “Fine by me. I don’t mind winning this one’s money along with everyone else’s.”
    “That’s the spirit,” Holliday said as he took a seat at the table. A few of the other players had to scoot to one side, but they let him have his spot between Virgil and Mike. “A positive attitude does wonders in poker. That is, if we are playing poker?”
    Virgil nodded. “What else is there?”
    “Poker’s a man’s game,” Mike grunted. “I don’t play nothing else.”
    “Even with the double negative, I agree wholeheartedly,” Holliday said.
    Mike’s nostrils flared. “You got a smart mouth, you skinny little rat. Guess that’s why you need to be heeled at a friendly game.”
    “Oh, this?” Holliday’s hand drifted toward his gun, but only to tap the handle lovingly. “This is my good luck charm. And by the way, you can call me Doc.”
    “Yeah, I know all about you. I seen you play a few games not too long ago.” Leaning forward until his belly tilted his side of the table, Mike added, “I guess since you ain’t lucky in nothing else, you’re bound to get lucky at cards every now and then.” Mike leaned back and shrugged. “Odds are damn good that you’ll keel over before the night’s out anyhow.”
    If Doc was rattled by anything that had come from Mike’s mouth, he gave no indication. Instead, he merely nodded and signaled toward the bar for a drink. “All right then. Let’s play some cards.”

[5]
    In the time it took a round of drinks to arrive at the table and for money to be traded for chips, the occupants of the chairs had done a bit of shuffling. While the three principal players of the game stayed where they were, some of the others who’d been gambling either moved to another spot or cashed themselves out altogether.
    The ones who left did so with a cordial word and tip of their hat, scooping up whatever money they had and leaving as quickly as they could. That left two others besides Virgil, Mike, and Doc at the table. One of those was a young cowboy who still had fresh dust in his hair and the other was Orville, the old miner who practically lived at the Busted Flush. Going by the look on Orville’s face, he wasn’t about to miss one second of the game, no matter how many guns were present.
    Virgil played the part of gracious host, engaging in small talk with anyone who cared to return the favor while rolling a silver dollar back and forth over his knuckles.
    Doc quickly suppressed a coughing fit before removing the handkerchief from his breast pocket. While he did exchange a few pleasantries with Virgil, he seemed to be more concerned with getting his flask refilled and then sampling the whiskey brought to him in a separate glass. Once a few sips of liquor were in his system, the dentist eased back into his chair and got comfortable. His eyes had taken on a