Free Denver Draw by Robert J. Randisi

Doc?”
    “I’m gonna call.”
    “Last card,” Bat said, and dealt it out. He and Doc did not improve. Butler’s card busted his straight or flush, but paired his sixes.
    “Kings bet,” Bat said. “Doc?”
    Doc studied his hole card for a few moments, then studied Bat and Butler in turn.
    “Check.”
    “I bet a hundred,” Butler said.
    “I raise,” Bat said.
    “I fold my kings,” Doc said. “I believe one of you.”
    “Which one?” Bat asked.
    Doc shrugged.
    “In the long run it doesn’t matter, does it? One of you has me beat. I fold, I save money.”
    “I reraise, Bat,” Butler said.
    Bat looked at Doc, who shrugged, then looked at Butler, who gave him nothing.
    “I’m gonna call you, because I wanna see,” Bat said. Then he turned over his cards. “Beat two pair, jacks over.”
    Butler turned over his hole card. It was a six of diamonds, giving him three sixes.
    “No bluff,” Doc said. “Glad I folded my kings over.”
    “You had me beat, too?” Bat asked, exasperated.
    “Looks like it.” Doc turned over his cards to show that he was telling the truth, he had a higher two pair than Bat.
    Doc started collecting the cards because he had the next deal.
    “Nice hand, Butler,” Bat said.
    “Thanks, Bat.”
    “I’ll get you next time.”
    “The next time is now,” Doc said, shuffling expertly. “Comin’ out. Five-card stud again, gents.”
    “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

CHAPTER 22
    The game went on for hours and the three of them finally had to call it a night. The money was pretty evenly split, and Bat offered each of them a final drink before he closed the Bonanza doors.
    “Well,” Doc said, over his last whiskey, “that didn’t prove much, did it?”
    “It proved that Virgil’s no card player, and Wyatt should stick to faro,” Bat said.
    Butler looked around. Except for Roscoe, the bartender, they were alone in the place. Doc was the only one who had to leave the building to walk to his hotel, while Butler and Bat both had rooms upstairs.
    Something didn’t feel right to Butler. He looked around again. This time he thought he saw a shadow at the front window.
    “Guess I better turn in,” Doc said. He’d been drinking whiskey during the game and his eyes were bloodshot. His coughing fits had been kept to a minimum. Butler wondered if the whiskey actually helped with that.
    Butler put his hand on Bat’s arm.
    “Something’s not right.”
    “I know,” Bat said. “You walk him, I’ll go out the back.”
    “Right.”
    All three of them walked to the front door, where Butler said, “I need some air. I’m going to walk to the hotel with you, Doc.”
    “Suit yourself,” Doc said. Suddenly, it was as if he could not keep his eyes open. Butler wondered if the man would have even made it to the hotel if he hadn’t decided to walk him.
    Bat said good night and locked the doors behind them.
    Trinidad’s streets had lamps to light the way, but, at the same time, lamps would cast shadows—shadows deep enough for a man to hide in.
    “You felt it, too?” Doc asked as they walked.
    “Yes,” Butler said. “Something…”
    “You or me?” Doc asked.
    “I guess it could be me,” Butler said, “but I didn’t really have to leave the building.”
    “Me, then.”
    “Tonight, anyway.”
    “You got somebody on your trail?” Doc asked.
    “You never know.”
    “It’s a helluva way to live, ain’t it?”
    “It’d be a hell of a way to die, too.”
    They walked slowly, keeping to the boardwalk and out of the street, until they reached Doc’s hotel.
    “Were we wrong?” Butler asked.
    “No,” Doc said. “There were two of us. Whoever’s out there wasn’t prepared for that.”
    “Bat’s out there,” Butler said.
    “Maybe he’ll find them,” Doc said. He coughed, covered his mouth with a kerchief, but nothing cameup. “Okay, so you walked me back, now how about you?”
    “Like I said,” Butler repeated, “Bat’s out