Death Has Its Price
Chapter 1 – Say Good-Night, Gracie"Do you really think this will work?"
Bart Maverick was talking to Doc Holliday and, as usual, Bart was skeptical of Doc's plan.
"He won't believe me," Doc explained. "Maybe if I can show him I'm really Bart Maverick he'll believe that. It's worth a try, isn't it?"
Bart had to agree. One particular cowhand had been badgering Doc for days, insisting he was Doc Holliday and should be more than willing to prove it if he wasn't. Doc kept telling the man he was Bart Maverick, but the cowhand wouldn't believe him. Since this was the last night they were going to be in Apache Junction and they both wanted a peaceful, pleasant evening, Bart was willing to give almost anything a try. Including swapping wallets so Doc would have the requisite 'proof.' Bart's wallet was engraved 'Bart Maverick' on the outside, and he carried several personal pieces of mail with him, one of which was a letter from his brother Bret detailing the current situation in Montana. And then there was the lone picture, an old photo of his deceased wife, Caroline. Bart might have been willing to swap identities with Doc for an evening, even wallets, but not the picture of Caroline. That had to go with its real owner.
So when Maverick put Doc's wallet, with its engraved 'J.H. Holliday' on the inside, in his coat pocket, it still held Bart's money and Caroline's picture. "I'll be glad to get out of this place," the gambler grumbled, "and get on to Mountain City."
"That makes two of us," the gunslinger agreed. "Even if we do have to ride through the Superstition Mountains to get there. And with any luck at all we'll leave these idiots here in the desert. If this was anyplace other than Arizona, I'd just shoot the damn fool and get it over with."
Bart shook his head. "Doc, you promised, no killing."
"You're a pain in the ass, Maverick, you know that?"
A smile from the card sharp, who'd been doing very well for himself since he and Doc left on this trip. "My brother would agree with you."
"I saw the letter. What's Bret have to say?" the gunslinger inquired.
"Some good, some bad. Georgia's not doin' real well, and Beau's a mess. They finally got a new sheriff and he's not a big fan of gamblin' halls, but there's not much he can do about 'Mavericks.' It's been there in one form or another for so long no one can imagine the town without it. Jody and Beck are finally thinkin' about settin' a wedding date, and four more businesses have moved into town just since Bret's been there. He's gettin' ready to leave soon, should be in Arizona around the first of next month. In other words, not much."
By the time Bart was finished, Doc was exhausted. "I'd hate to read a letter from him that had a lot to say. Is he always that wordy?"
Bart had to chuckle. "Most of that's from me. You kinda hafta read between the lines with Bret's letters. He says a lot with less words."
"Thank God," Doc answered. "Well, are you ready? Here, give me that thing, just for tonight. Everybody knows Doc doesn't carry a derringer."
Bart handed Doc the shoulder holster with his Remington in it. He had a point, Doc was well known for his disdain of small guns. "If you're gonna kill 'em, kill 'em," was the standard he lived by, and a Colt was much more efficient at that. It was odd seeing his good friend wearing his shoulder holster, but it added to the illusion provided by the switched wallets.
"Wanna trade hats?" Bart asked innocently.
"Not goin' that far," Doc answered him. "If I die tonight, I'm dyin' with my own hat on my head."
A cold chill went up the gambler's spine. "Don't talk about dyin.' Bad luck."
"Thought you didn't believe in luck?"
"I don't when it comes to poker. Can't say that about anything else."
"Aha," Doc remarked. "Good to know. Are we ready?"
"I've been ready for an hour," Bart answered. "Just waitin' for you."
"Then let's go raise some hell, gamblin' man."
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Even though Doc's intent was to 'raise some hell,' the evening passed peacefully. The cowhand who'd been riding Doc pretty hard all week finally backed off when shown the 'Bart Maverick' wallet and Bret's latest letter, and a newfound respect for the real Bart Maverick set in, since he was now assumed to be John Henry Holliday, D.D.S. Bart didn't care, but he left the whiskey drinking to his friend and stuck with coffee.
"You're gonna ruin my image," Doc complained.
"Too bad," was the answer he got back. "I'm not drinkin' just to make you happy."
Doc borrowed Bart's puppy-dog expression and trained it on its owner. "You don't love me anymore," Doc complained.
"Nope. Never did."
Finally, even Doc yawned. "One more hand, and I'm done."
"Why Mr. Maverick, I thought gamblers could play poker all night."
"And I thought Doc Holliday didn't talk much."
"I don't. I've killed people for less." Bart smirked at Doc, one of Doc's trademark expressions.
"Say, that's good. I didn't know you paid that much attention to me. " Doc sounded surprised.
"Gamblers read people, even you know that. Which means we pay attention to them." Bart threw four chips into the pot. "Raise two-hundred."
Doc matched the bet. "There's yours and two more."
Bart's eyebrow shot up. "Say, I thought this was a friendly game."
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
"You." Bart threw two cards down on the table. "I'm in. I'll take two."
Doc circled the table, handing out cards. When he got back around to himself, he said, "Dealer takes one."
Uh-oh. Bart knew that Doc wasn't big on bluffing, and that made him take another look at his cards. Ace's full over eights. Bluffing or not, Doc was gonna have to go a good distance to beat his hand. "Okay, gambler. Your two and four more."
"Huh." It was a sound more than a word. Doc did it often when he was thinking. Just what did the gambler have? Not a time to throw good money after bad. "Call."
Bart laid down his hand and Doc threw his cards on the table, face down, in disgust. "Damn, you do that more than any man has a right to."
"Don't wanna get burned, don't play with matches," Bart offered.
"Good thing we're friends, or I'd accuse you of cheating," Doc stated. The rest of the players at the table froze and got dead quiet. Bart Maverick had just accused Doc Holliday of cheating!
Bart laughed and immediately put everyone at ease. He and Doc were well versed in harassing each other unmercifully, much to the distress of the other players in the game. And it was even more amusing right now, when everyone around them was thoroughly confused as to who was actually whom.
As threatened, however, Doc was done for the night. "That's all – I've lost enough to you tonight. I'm goin' to bed. You comin'?"
"Nope. Gonna play a while more. Tomorrow morning?"
"Yep," Doc answered. "I'll be ready when you are." He got up and started to leave the saloon when he suddenly remembered the exchange they'd made earlier. Since they were leaving together it really didn't matter; they could trade wallets in the morning. "Night Doc," he told Bart.
"Night, Bart," Maverick answered.