Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc gathered up his belongings from his hotel room. He always traveled light. Two saddle bags. One with a change of clothing. One with the tools of his trade. His original trade. He had not practiced dentistry for quite some time. He kept his instruments as a reminder of other days. Other times. Other directions.

The livery was empty but the owner lived in a room at the back. Doc walked back and struck the door with a clenched fist.

Old Gabe stumble out rubbing the sleep and the stench out his eyes. Try as he might he could not get rid of the stink of horseshit and cheap whiskey out.

“Doc? What can I do for you?”

“Need a horse Gabe. I was invited out of your fine town. I have to make tracks before the rest of the citizens awake and inquire as to the fresh corpse in the thoroughfare.”

“Like that is it. Well I got a nice gentle mare for you. I know you don’t want too spirited a horse so she should suit you down to the ground. That will be ten dollars.”

“Ten dollars? You should wear a mask when you ask for that you horse thief.  But I guess I can’t balk as my time is limited. Throw in a rig and we have a deal.”

“Sure enough Doc. I didn’t reckon you were gonna go bareback. Be ready in a few minutes.”

He rode out of town a half an hour later. The mare had a gentle gait and Doc pointed her nose down the line to the next town on the Circuit. He rode for a good three hours until he was far enough away to discourage pursuit. Especially if he left early in the morning. He hobbled the mare and built a small fire with dry wood and buffalo chips. Most considered Doc a devotee of the saloon and dancehall but he was a competent woodsman. He loved to hunt and fish back in his native Georgia and had not lost any of his skills. Doc usually kept any skill that he learned. He might not use them but they would be there if he reached for them.

Sitting with his back to a sturdy willow tree he stretched. A short rest is all he could afford. It would not be smart to be caught sleeping if they did decide to send a posse. So a dozing would have to do.

Doc reached into his inner pocket and look out an envelope and stub of a pencil. He might as well finish his letter if he could not sleep.

“My Dearest Mattie

I am writing to you from the trail. I have to go on to the next town as my practice did not prosper in my former abode. Not to worry. I am well. My cough is tiresome but seems to have improved with the fresh country air.

I remember how you loved the smell of the flowers in the wind when we would walk in the woods on a summer twilight. I wonder do you get to smell the flowers in the convent or do you only have to scent of candles and piety to amuse you in the evening. I will never understand why you decided to become a bride of Christ. It is past my reckoning. Please know that I am ever at your command. If you need me I will come.

I hold those memories of the times we spent a precious gift. I hope you remember them with fondness as well. Those thoughts of you and home keep me warm even as I huddle before this fire on the trail to the next town.

If you desired to leave me word please forward it to the Drovers cottage at Abilene. I expect to be there for some time.

May your God hold you safe in his bosom and protect you from all the evil that is found this imperfect world.

With fondest regards,

Your dearest cousin,

John”