Along the way, he spat out an endless string of obscenities that had as much to do with Caleb Wayfinder as it had to do with the stabbing pain that shot from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder and back down into the pit of his stomach. The hand above his broken wrist had already gone numb, allowing Jim to see straight just long enough to find the St. Charles Saloon. As one of the more respected saloons in Dallas, the St. Charles was also one of the most fortunate, since it had survived one fire that had claimed the lives of two establishments on the other side of the block. It was also known as a friendly place to gamble, which was more of a testament to Champagne Charlie Austin, who ran the place wearing an ever-present smile on his wide face. Charlie was known as a good fellow and a straight shooter, which brought a hell of a lot of players to his card tables and tournaments. Charlie was just as likely to buy a man a drink as he was to pour one, and he did his best to greet folks as they walked into his saloon.
