Doc Holliday Must Die.

Holiday and Hardin walked into the Doctors office. He was drunk as usual. Asleep in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk. Hardin pushed his feet off the desk and the doctor popped up ready to curse out whoever had disturbed his slumber. He saw who it was and thought better of it.

"Sorry to disturb your meditations Doc but I seem to have had an accident and I need your professional services" said Holiday. "I wonder if you might take a gander at my wing. It seems to have been clipped."

"Sure thing Mr. Holiday just sit over here on my table and I will get right to treating it." He led Holiday over to the table in the middle of the room. It cleverly had a hinge that allowed him to raise up half of the table so the patient was not totally supine. This was just what he needed to do with the gunshot wound in the arm. Holiday got up on the table and took off his jacket and shirt. He didn't have that many clothes that he could afford to have them cut off his back.

"You can call me John, Doc. It will be too confusing if we both called each other Doc. Right John Wesley?"

"True enough John I reckon that might be a bit confusing. How does it look Doc?"

"Not bad not bad at all. It went straight through and didn't hit the bone at all. You will be back practicing dentistry before you know it. If you don't mind me asking how did you get dinged John?"
"Bit of unpleasantness with some Yankees at the Drovers Cottage Doc. Nothing to write home about." "Will they be needing me over there after I fix you up?" "That depends" said Hardin. "Depends on what?" "If you are the coroner as well as the only Doctor in town." They all laughed even though it was a feeble joke. The gunslingers because it  struck them funny and the pill pusher because he was damned scared.

The doctor cleaned and flushed out the wound with alcohol. A couple of stitches on both sides of his arm took care of both the entrance and exit wounds. Doc was very luck that it was a very small caliber gun and that the wound was not extensive. All in all he had nothing much to complain about.

There was a knock on the door and Marshal Hickock came into the room.

"Howdy gentlemen. I see that you are getting patched up Doc. You all right?" "Fine Marshal the Doc set me to rights. What can I do you for?"

"Just checking in to get your side of the story. Most of the witnesses said it was a fair fight and those drovers drew first. Is that how you saw it Doc?" "Sure enough Marshal. We didn't have a choice. It was us or them." "I thought as much. Still and all I would much appreciate if you did not make a habit of this. Bad for business." "You can count on us Marshal" said Hickock. "Hardin?" "Long as they leave me alone I ain't gonna draw on anyone who doesn't draw on me first." "Fair enough. When you are done why not come and meet me in the Long Branch. Drinks on me." "I think I might rest up Marshal but maybe tomorrow." Hickock nodded to them and strolled out the door.

Holiday finished putting on his shirt and jacket and got off the table. He stumbled and had to hold on as Hardin grabbed him to steady the off kilter gunman. "You ok John?" "Fine. How much do I owe you Doc?" "One dollar should do it John." Holiday took a dollar out of his pocket and laid it on the table. "Lets go John Wesley. I am ready for a pipe."

The two gunmen left the doctors office and set off to Chink Alley. "You think this is wise Doc?  I don't seem that clean to me" "Clean enough for me." They continued down and entered the low door way of Wongs emporium. The same naked prostitute came up to them and took Holliday hand. She looked at his arm and murmured "You hurt. I fix." He let her lead him to the pallet on the floor. She pressed on his chest till he laid down. Loaded up a pipe and lit it. Handed it too him. Loosened his clothing. She reached into his pants but he grabbed her hand and pulled it back. "Just want to rest a moment honey." She looked at his sad eyes and sighed. Got on the pallet next to him and pressed her naked body against him. He blew out a smoke ring. As content as a tourtured soul could be until he found his way home to Hell.

I have been slacking off.

Which is no where as much fun as whacking off.

We have been so busy and I have been so tired that I have not had enough time or desire to continue my two storylines about Doc and Joey. But I have thinking about it.

Here is a crazy thought. Big Nose Katie Elder was from Eastern Europe. What if she were a vampire?

I don't know. That might really sell.

Doc Holiday Must Die

Doc and Hardin walked over to the Drover’s Cottage to have dinner. They took a table at the back in the corner where each could put their backs to the wall and look out over the dining room. They ordered the special. Fried potatoes. Beans. Huge steaks. Blood rare and juicy. Fresh Texas beef that had been driven up the trail to the railroad. Adeline was at its height. A short season in the sun until the railroad built a spur closer to the trail.

They had a great deal in common. Both were Southerners. Too young to serve in the Civil War they still had the attitudes common to young men from that section of the country. They had no love for the Union, Yankees, the government or blacks.  They sat quietly and enjoyed their repast. Two deadly men not afraid to break bread.

“What made you decide to ride up the trail John Wesley” asked Holliday? “I wouldn’t think riding herd would be something that would interest you.” “Why would you say that John. Not to say that you are wrong. Following a cows behind and eating his dust is not what I would call fun. I just needed to get out of Texas. It was getting too hot for me at home.” “I know the feeling. Sometimes that’s just the way the cards fall. You can rest for a while. Hickok seems to like you so that is something to hold on to. In another town the Marshal might just want to try you to get himself a reputation.”

“I wish I had an occupation I could call my own like you John. As a dentist you can set up shop anywhere. I taught school for a while. And I enjoyed it. I just don’t think anyone will want a gunman as an instructor any time soon. So I have to find something to do. Gambling is fun but it seems too chancy to me.” “You can say that for certain sure. I don’t want to depend on gambling but it sure beats working as a dentist. I just don’t know if I can resist the charms of the poker table.”

Two boisterous Yankees walked into the restaurant. You could tell they were Yankees because they were wearing remnants of Union uniforms. They pushed past the waiter and flopped into seats directly across from the two gunmen who looked at them with the unflinching eyes of the predator. They didn’t know what they had walked into.

“Say Waiter service before I bust up this shithole” shouted one of the miscreants in a Boston accent as thick as his head while he banged on the table. “Food now. Drink. Bring us a bottle right now you shit kicker.” His friend just laughed and rubbed himself through the crotch of his worn cavalry uniform pants. They were lucky that there were no women in the restaurant as several of the men who were dining would not have stood for that sort of talk in the presence of ladies. Since it was only men they could turn to their plates and not get involved. Until they pushed it.

One of them looked over at Hardin and Holliday through bleary eyes that were dulled by drink. He decided that Hardin was a callow youth who was ripe for some abuse. A big mistake.

“Look at this Josiah. A real life cowboy. Must be from Texas like all these god damn cows that are shitting everywhere. Say boy where you from?” “From Texas friend and I would appreciate it if you let me enjoy me meal without interruption” said John Wesley Hardin in a surprisingly calm voice. Anyone who could measure danger would step lightly but this fool was oblivious.

“Enjoy your meal you Texas shitkicker. I bet you were a Johnny Reb. No you’re too young for that. Maybe your old daddy was. Or was he home fucking his slaves like all you dirty Rebs?” His friend snorted his whiskey that he was guzzling. “Maybe we fucked his Mama when we were down in Texas Cyrus.  We had us a fine old time with Governor Davis’s police.”

John Wesley Hardin didn’t reply. He froze for a moment and then stood up and put his hands on the Colts that were into his vest. The butts of his pistols pointed inward across his chest. He crossed his arms to draw but waited until the two drunks realized what was happening. He could not just shoot them down. That was a recipe for a rope.

The two drunks went for their guns. They both drew their weapons but to no avail. Hardin shot one of them through the mouth and blasted his brains out the back of his head all over the wall. He shot the second one through eye. In fact he shot his eye out. But not before he managed to get a shot off. Where he shot Doc.

Doc had risen when Hardin did and got out his pistol just as quickly but was shot in the arm before he could pull the trigger. Doc was not particularly fast with a pistol. He was just not afraid to die. That made him deadly.

“So much for that” said John Wesley. He looked over at Doc. “You’re hit John. We best go to the doctor. These poor fools are not in need of his services.” “Let me tie it off John Wesley. It is not too bad he only winged me. Missed the bone Thank the Lord.” Doc stripped his cravat and tied it two inches above the wound. A bystander came over and tightened it for him. “Thank you sir” said Holliday “I am much obliged.” “Let’s go John before Hickok gets here. I don’t want to wait to talk to him until the doctor gets a look at you.” They walked out into the street. Hardin with the heat of two barrels on his vest. Holliday with an arm dripping blood. He chuckled without any amusement in his voice.

“I hope that whore can sew. I am running out of clothes.”

Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc felt soiled. Both in his person and in his soul. He changed took his other change of business clothes and walked out of the hotel. He headed down to the barbershop to see about getting cleaned up. He had a name as being fastidious. Which meant that he took a bath more than once a month.

The barber was working on a cowboy in his chair. His establishment reeked of witch hazel and soap. He had a straight razor in his hand as he shaved off the trail dust that had accumulated during the drive up from Texas. The barber looked up and said “Be right with you sir. If you take a seat.” “I was hoping to see about a bath first. And to get my clothes laundered if I could?” “Surely that will not be a problem. You can step through the door into the alley. The bathhouse is directly across the road. I will send someone to bring you the hot water and take your clothes. It might take a while though as it would have to dry.” “I have a fresh set of possibles partner so that won’t be a problem.”

Doc walked through the door and into the alley. He saw a door directly across which was open. He could see the tubs sitting on a platform. He walked in. Shut the door and started to take off his clothes. They were stained. Stained with blood from his dentistry. Stained with his shame from his bad behavior. He had let evil companions lead him astray. Once again. He wondered who had paid. It must have been Hickok. Or maybe he didn’t pay at all. He could have his throat slit and would not have even known it. Guess his luck had held once again.  

The door opened and a young colored boy came in with a bucket of hot water that he poured into the tub. It would take a while to fill the tub. Doc sat in his breeches and took his pistol and put it close to hand. It was best to be prepared for the worst. Not that anyone in this town had it in for him. Yet. But you never know what might happen. 

Once the tub was finally filled, Doc gingerly slid into it slowly so as not to burn anything important. He took the rough soap and the almost as rough wash cloth and started to soap himself up. The door opened again and Doc dropped the soap and put his hand on his Colt. It was a young woman all covered up so he could not see her face. She went to his soiled clothing and picked them up as she turned her shawl slid down just enough to show her face. It was the Chinee whore. She looked at him briefly without expression and then fled through the door with his clothes. Life was full of surprises.

 

After finishing his ablutions, Doc dressed slowly and thoughtfully. He had been off kilter since he had arrived in this town. There were too many cross currents blowing like the bitter winds of the Kansas plains that you struggled in when you walked the filth strewn streets. He had to get a better grip or he would be blown away. 

Doc walked back to the barbershop and saw that the chair was empty. The barber beckoned to the chair as he held a cloth ready to tie around his neck. Doc sat and the barber started his work. He began to trim his hair as Doc gazed into the mirror over on the wall opposite the chair. A bell rang as the door opened and Doc put his hand on his piece. He saw in the mirror that it was John Wesley Hardin.

“How do John” said the young gunman. “I see great minds follow the same trails. Thought I might get prettified before the evening’s festivities.” “Hello John Wesley.” “Didn’t see you at the Bullshead last night. Is there another place that is more fun? I wouldn’t mind changing it up since I am a little tired of Ben Thompsons hints.” “It wasn’t anyplace better John Wesley. I was just resting so to speak. I reckon I might go back to the Bullshead tonight. Mike Williams asked me to meet the Marshal there tonight. I am a man of my word.” 

The barber proceeded to shave Doc and he looked at John Wesley Hardin in the mirror. “I know you track what Ben is aiming at. Hickok is not looking for a fight. Not with you at any rate. I can tell you that for certain sure.” “How would you know that John? I reckon I can surmise it as well but I can’t be sure.” “Well I am. Hickok told me his ownself. He is not one to lie. At least about something like that. He is the type that would come right at you. Just the way he is going at Phil Coe. That will not end well if I have to bear witness.” “Fair enough John that is good to know. I reckon you are a man of experience in these matters. Or so I hear. So I will take your advice.” “That would be good John Wesley. Tell you what. I will hang on here to you are finished and we can go get a bit of supper. Then we can go to Bullshead together and keep each other out of trouble.”

 

Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc opened his eyes. He did not know where he was. Miasma. That was the feeling. Smoke and smell and misery were overwhelming. Pressing down on him. He remembered. Opium.

He sat up. The pallet next to him was empty. Wild Bill must have left. What time was it? How long had he been there?

Doc got up and put together his belongings. It took three tries to get his arm in the shoulder of his jacket. He stumbled to the door that opened into the alley. Even in the dank crowded space between the buildings he had to cover his eyes so as not to go blind. He shielded his eyes until his pupils could return to normal. Or as normal as they could get after the damage he did to his body.

He walked to the main thoroughfare. It seemed to be twilight. Doc stopped a passerby. “Excuse me sir but what day is it?” The farmer looked at him with a mixture of disgust and apprehension and said “Why it is Wednesday Mister.” Damn. He had lost a whole day.

Doc continued on until he got to the hotel. The clerk looked up as he entered the lobby. He looked faintly amused but tried to hide it. He took the key from the slot behind the desk and pushed it over to him. “Deputy Williams was by earlier Mr. Holliday. He wanted to speak to you.” “Thank you kindly. I will be sure to look him up directly.”

Doc walked slowly up the stairs with a heavy thread. He was carrying a heavier burden than usual. It was bad enough that he was far away from hearth and home. He had left his family in Georgia after his romance had faltered on the rocks of family disapproval. His sickness gave him an excuse to move to a more salubrious climate for his lungs. It was his heart that was sick. Now he felt even worse. He felt that in his weakness he had betrayed his love’s good opinion. Heart sick. Lung sick. He didn’t know which was worse. No that was not true. Heart sick was much worse.

Doc stripped down to his britches and hung up his clothes on pegs on the wall. He filled the basin from a jug on the dresser. Scooped up some water on to face and hair. He tried to rub the shame off but it stuck to him. He dried himself with the dirty towel and sat down on the bed. Propped on a pillow he picked up his notebook and tried to pen a letter.

My dearest Mattie,

I wonder if you ever think of me as you pray to your God. I know I think of you every day. Those days when I was in school and all the world seemed young and gay. When we took a picnic basket with fried chicken and cornbread that Mama Bertha would make for us when we asked. The way the sun looked in your hair. The way your lips looked before I kissed them. Do you ever think about that when you kneel before your jealous God?

Forgive me for my impertinence but I must hold on to the memories of better days. My time here is short but I still long for permanence and grace. The grace that you seemed to have found in your habit and your beads. I long for such a sweet solace for my soul.

I have made a great friend and boon companion in the famous Wild Bill. He is a man of appetite and experience and I must endeavor to be his friend without following him in his less estimable pursuits. I aim to try but I am a weak vessel that cannot stand the temptation that he offers to my baser desires.

Please pray for me in your devotions as that is my only hope as I try to be a better man. It is only my memories of you that have kept me from despair and it is only my determination to maintain your approbation that restrains me from the deepest pit of melancholia and despair.

Please know that you remain my one hope for salvation in this vale of tears.

With fondest regards,

Your dearest cousin,

John 

Doc put down his pencil and book and rested his chin on his chest. Perhaps he might not send this missive. It was much too dark for his love to read. He didn’t want to frighten her. More than that he didn’t want to disgust her. 

 

There was a knock at his door. Doc got up and took his Colt from the holster and stood to the side of the door. “Hello?” “It’s me Doc. Mike Williams. Wild Bill sent me to check on you.” Doc opened the door and saw the deputy standing in the hallway cradling a shotgun. 

“I tolerable Mike. Tell Wild Bill that I will be in to see him tonight.” “That’s fine Doc. He will most likely will be in the Bullshead. You know Bill. He likes to poke the bear. I'll tell him that you are fine and will be looking him up when you are ready.” “Fair enough see you then.”

Doc closed the door and went to lay down. He needed to rest. He coughed and took a handkerchief from the nightstand and put it over his mouth. He had a moderately severe bout. When he took away the cloth he looked at it as he always did.  

There was a spot of blood.

Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc looked at Hickok. Hickok said “I think this might the answer for you John. I know it is an answer for me. You just have to let it happen. I reckon you will fancy it if’n you give it a chance.”

They each went to one of the bedrolls and sat down. The girls came over and took their hats and jackets and hung them on a peg on the wall at the head of their spot. Doc glanced at the naked girl. She was slim and dirty with small conical breasts. Bald as an egg in her lady parts. She seemed young but not that young. She certainly knew her business.

The room was dark except for some oil lamps placed against the wall. The girl murmured something in her Chinee palaver and pushed his chest down so until he was supine on the bedroll. It seemed to be on a small mat or mattress so he was not on a cold floor. Doc felt the cold Kansas wind blowing through the kinks in the poorly constructed walls.

The naked prostitute squatted next to him and handed him a pipe. She gave him a view of her naked rosebud. Doc had not seen one in such close proximity before. As a medical man he was naturally curious. It did not slant in any different direction. One question answered.

She handed him a long pipe with a small earthenware bowl attached to a long metal pipe. She indicated in sign language that he should put the pipe in his mouth. As he held it the girl put a small round pill of opium into the bowl. She then stood up and brought the lamp over to him. It was low slung and she pulled the end of the pipe and placed the bowl over the heat rising from the lamp. It slowly began to heat the drug and vapors began to be directed by the heat of the lamp. The girl motioned to him to suck on the end of the pipe. He took the pipe into his mouth and sucked gently. He felt the smoke migrate into his diseased lungs. He coughed and hacked for a long moment. Perhaps this was not the right thing for a lunger to do. But he was nothing if not stubborn. Eventually he got the rhythm. He would draw the smoke into his lungs….hold it in his lungs…..and exhale slowly.

Mostly he felt peace. A sweet sticky taste filled his mouth. The odor was pleasant yet pungent. He glanced over at Wild Bill. He was stretched out as well sucking on his pipe. His girl was busy on him. As busy as Bill was on the pipe. Doc felt relaxed. The most relaxed he had felt since he left Georgia. All of the stress had washed out of his body. He had a feeling of euphoria. No worries. No care. Just a feeling of contentment and warmth.

He felt the girl knell between his legs. She unbuttoned him and reached into his pants and took him into her hand. Into her mouth.

He felt good.

Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc walked down Main St. to the edge of town. It was shady toward twilight on the dusty streets. They needed some rain soon to cool down the town. Doc wanted to see if he could make a little rain himself by improving his circumstances.

He heard the sound of the hammer banging the anvil from several doors away. He turned into the doorway and stepped back involuntarily. The Smith was hammering metal bar into the traditional horse shoe shape. Sparks flew as the metal was shaped by repeated blows wielded by the heavily perspiring workman.  He had heated it just hot enough to shape it. It was a skill that not everyone could master. He was a craftsman not just a smith. Just the fellow he needed to see. Doc stepped back into the doorway and waited quietly until he could get his attention.

Finally the Smith looked up and saw Doc standing there. He took the completed red hot shoe and dropped it into a bucket of water that steamed and heaved as the remaining heat was drained out of the beaten metal. He looked at Doc and said “What can I do for you Mister?” “Whatever it is it can wait a spell until he finishes shoeing my pony” said a voice from a shadowy figure leaning against a post on the left side of the smithy that was obscured by the darkness of the late afternoon. The figure leaned forward into the light. Mystery solved. It was Wild Bill.

“Not a problem for me Marshal” Doc said. “I just wanted to talk to Mr. Brown about making me a chair.”

“A chair? Why come to me to make a chair? You'll do better with the cooper. He works more with wood” said Brownie the Smith. “That’s the point partner. I am a dentist and I go through wooden chairs like shit through a goose. So I thought I might see if you could something with iron. I have some thoughts that I sketched out for you to look at Mr. Brown. Once you are finished with the Marshal to be sure.” 

Wild Bill pushed his hat back on his head. He had lost some of his hair to the point that his forelock might be termed an aftlock. Not that anyone would mention it to his face. “Well that sounds a sight more interesting than shoeing my horse. Let’s take a look John. I would be interested in seeing my own self.”

Doc brought out his notes and showed his conception. It was based on some of the chairs he had worked with in dental school. The frame itself was metal. A strong metal that even the power of pain that sprung from a moose like Deputy Williams could not shatter. It had an adjustable recline that the he could use to fit the various bodies that came in to get a tooth pulled. Both the Smith and Marshal were engrossed and an hour flew by before they knew it.  

“I think I know what you want Holliday. It should not be a problem. Give me a couple of days to get working on it and I will show you what I can do” said Brown. “Couldn’t ask for more than that.” The sun was just about ready to set as Holliday and Hickok walked out into the street.

“That was purely fascinating John. I never knew that a dentist chair could have so many moving parts. I reckon I am going over to the Chinks for dinner. Perhaps you might be peaked and would care to join me.” “Sure enough Marshal that would be mighty fine.” 

Holliday and Hickok walked to dining establishment at the edge of what was a small section of town where the Chinese could be found. They had come in with the railroad which was strange since most of the Chinese that worked on the railroad came from the Pacific coast. When they finally drove the golden spike that united the coasts the Chinese workers burst forth in a diaspora that left the detritus in many small towns throughout the West. Especially in trail end towns like Abilene.  

Wang’s was a small café where the food made up for the filth. Hickok sat with his back to the wall as was his custom. Halliday sat across from him. They ordered the staple of the house. Chicken and biscuits with fried potatoes. What made Wang’s different is the spices that permeated the food. What that spice might be was the subject of some debate. Some said it was some exotic Chinese spice. Others thought it was just that the Chink did not wash his hands. Whatever it was it brought custom back. So it worked. 

Doc chewed thoughtfully and looked at the Marshal. He figured he might take a chance. “I be pondering on something Marshal that I am sure you know. Young Hardin is being pushed into something he doesn’t want to do by Thompson. It is as clear as day.” “That it is John but you don’t need to fret. I think young John Wesley is a very smart young man. He ain’t gonna be no sacrificial lamb to save Phil Coe’s bacon. He just has to sit and wait. The thing will resolve itself soon enough. Sure enough. You could pass that on if want. Just so it don’t come from me.” “Fair enough Marshall.” “Names Bill to my friends. I reckon I would like to count you among them John.” “Be honored to do so Bill.” 

“I didn’t know there was so much to being a dentist John. I mean a new chair and all. I imagine you will have a lot of patients when they hear you are handing out bottles of laudanum with each tooth pulled. That seems like a good deal to me” the Marshal said with a grin. “That might be a problem Bill. Not only could I not afford that transaction but where would I get the supply? I might have to send off to Chicago and who knows how long that might take?” “Well pain can be a powerful inducement. But laudanum might not be the only arrow in you quiver son. I might have an idea for you.”  

Wild Bill looked for the proprietor and he did not spy him in the restaurant. “WANG YOU IGNORANT PISSANT CHINAMAN COME OUT HERE!” Wang came bustling out from behind the blanket that hid the kitchen from the dining area. He bowed to the Marshal. Wang was as good as a mute. He never spoke but seemed to understand English especially if they were salted with curses. “Set me and my friend up with a couple of pipes. Pronto or I cut off that pigtail and feed it to my dog.” Wang bowed and went back behind the blanket.

“Come along with me” said Wild Bill after ten minutes had passed. He walked through the back door of the establishment. Holliday followed warily into an alley that was redolent of the odors of the Oriental. Wash hung from the windows and ropes hung between the dilapidated dwellings that seemed bursting at the scenes with people that Holliday did not even know existed in this town. It seemed a mystery. It was cleared up soon enough.

 

Hickok walked to a door in a building listing across the street and entered. Doc followed. In the dim lamplight he saw a row of what looked like bedrolls. In front of two of them young Chinese women stood with their heads bowed holding a long pipe. A dollop of opium in their other hand. They were naked.

Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc woke up early the next day. Early for him. He came downstairs at the crack of noon and went for breakfast at the chinks. After some steak and eggs he walked up and over to the Bullshead saloon. He walked in through the door and put his saddlebags on the bar.

“Is Thompson around” Doc asked the bartender who was polishing glasses. “I want to get the key for the office around back. He said he would rent it to me.” “He’s not in yet but he told me to give you the key.” He took the key from behind the bar and handed it over. “Just go around back by the stairway.” “Thanks partner” Doc said. He picked up his bag and walked outside.

The office was dusty and unkempt. There were two chairs and a table. It would have to do. He set up one chair next to the window. There was good light. How long it would last was the question. He would have to get some oil lamps. You needed to have good light if you were going to yank out molars. Or at least the right molar. You didn’t want to take out the wrong tooth. That could make a patient ornery.

Doc laid out the tools of his trade. A probe. A mirror at the end of a metal tool. Some cotton balls. A small set of dental cement. Silver for the fillings.  Tincture of mercury to mix with the silver. A small collection of bottles of laudanum. Most importantly a pair of sturdy pliers. He was ready for business. The question was who would be his patients. He might need to get a sign or something.

Speak and you shall receive. There was a knock at the door. It opened and the burly form of Deputy Williams strode into the room.

“Hey Mr. Holliday. Or should I say Doctor Holliday. I was wondering if I could talk to you.” “Certainly Deputy. But I wasn’t the only one who was there. Mr. Hickok was fully justified in what he did. He was more patient than I would have been and that’s a fact.” “No doubt about that. Bill can be sudden sometimes but that is not my concern. In fact I have to talk to you about something a little embarrassing.” “Sure Mike if I can all you Mike. What can I help you with?” “It’s my tooth. It hurts powerful Doc. I wonder if you could help me.” “Certainly Deputy. Have a seat and let me take a look.”

Deputy Williams sat in the arm chair in the streaming light from the window and grabbed hold of the arms.  He put his head back and opened his mouth. Doc took his probe and mirror and bent over to look at his mouth.

“Which side is hurting Mike?” “On the left” said Williams as he squeezed the arms of the chair. “I see one of them that is particularly bad. It’s broken clear through. I have to pull it. That is going to hurt a powerful piece Deputy.” “Just do it Doc. Soonest started sooner ended.” “Let’s take a break for a second” said Doc as he stepped away.

“Pain is nothing to be ashamed of Mike and this is the worst pain there is short of being gut shot. So I like to have you take a little laudanum to take the edge off. Otherwise you will bite down and I need all of my fingers.” “You don’t have to worry Doc I can take it” said the burly Deputy. “I won’t bite you I promise.”

“That’s all well and good but I will be digging around to get out all the shards and pieces. Nobody could stand that without a little help. I also want to tie your hands down. Otherwise you will just naturally grab your mouth and that will be dangerous for the both of us. Trust me I have done this many times before.“

“I guess I have to trust you Doc. Give it over and let’s get started.” Doc ladled out a healthy dosage of the opiate and let him drink. They gave it a half hour to work. Williams got sleepy and lethargic and Doc secured his hands to the arms of the chair. It was not all that sturdy. But it would have to do.

Doc bent over the supine form of the sagging Deputy in the chair. He opened his mouth and touched the offending molar. The mountain of a man twitched and moaned a little. Doc waited and moment and then put his forceps on the tooth and yanked with all of his wiry strength. He got most all of the tooth but Deputy Williams did not take it kindly. He jerked up with all his strength and a loud sound that was part groan and part scream. Sort of like a gut shot grizzly. He had broken one arm of the chair in half and tore the other right out of the base. He opened his eyes and shook his head to clear the cobwebs and the pain.

“Hells Bells Doc” he burbled. “What the Sam hill did you do.” “You’re lucky Mike. I think I got it all on the first shot. It looks that way anyways. Here.” He handed him some cotton. “Put this in your mouth and bite down. I want to see if I can staunch the bleeding. Otherwise I might have to give you a stitch and I don’t think either of us want to do that.”

Williams untied himself from the shattered chair and stuffed the cotton into his mouth. The pain was intense as it throbbed and pulsed. He spit out a gob of blood on to the floor. Dentistry was a bloody business of this there was no doubt.

With the cotton stuffed in his mouth the deputy's usual gift of gab was somewhat muffled. He nodded at Doc and indicated that he wanted to know what he owed for the service. Doc handed his some more cotton and a half bottle of laudanum.

“That will be five dollars. Sorry but I have to buy another chair.” Deputy Williams paid up without demur. He just wanted to get out of there. He stood up shakily and walked out the door.

Doc looked at the wreckage of his office. It matched the wreckage of his life. He bent to start cleaning up the mess. He would have to go to the smithy to have him jury rig him a chair. Sometimes he thought that being a gambler would be easier. In fact he knew it would be easier. He had promised Mattie he would try to live an honest life. He would give it one more try. But a few more days like this and he didn’t know what he would do.

Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc stood out on the wooden boardwalk and watched as the bar swamper and another patron carried the limp body of Lew McCall down the street toward the undertakers. He straightened his cravat and touched his hide out gun in the pocket of his vest. He walked along the boardwalk until he crossed the line. The line was the imaginary border between the upper and lower classes. 

As a dentist Doc had an entrée to the “better” side of town. The further away from the heart of the district the less you heard the revelry of the underemployed. Hickok stood across the street and looked up and down the thoroughfare from the front of the jail house that was smack dab on the line. He followed the group walking down the street with baby steps as they hefted the dead weight of the knucklehead he had just shot. Hickok was illuminated it the gas light that hung from the top of the porch in front of the jail. That seemed a chancy thing to do. Hickok was a bold man. Perhaps it is true that fortune favors the bold. Perhaps it even had a sneaking affection for the stupid. Standing in full view like an illuminated sign seemed stupid instead of bold. It wasn’t Doc’s problem so it was none of his nevermind.

Doc nodded at the dozing desk clerk who jumped up at the sound of the opened door. He slowly trudged up the stairs to his room and unlocked the door. He put his hat on the peg and hung up his jacket. He glanced over at his dental tools that he had put out and polished in anticipation of his new practice.

He sat at the padded chair that was placed against the wall. He picked up his pencil and his notebook and started to pen another letter.

My Dearest Mattie,

I have found my feet at my next destination of Abilene. It is a bustling town with a vigorous population. A perfect place to resume my practice.

I have met the Marshal. A Mr. James Butler Hickok. Yes the famous gunfighter and scout from the penny dreadfulls. I doubt that you can peruse such in the solemnity of your convent but I trust you know of whom I speak. He is a dandy of a man. In fact I think you could legitimately term him a fop. Hickok is a very strong and forceful personality. I think that it will not serve him well in the long run.

 

Please do not be concerned. I remember how you would often chide me about my temper. I recall how you chastised me for whipping that darkie that had given you offense. You should know that age and illness has tempered my disposition to a degree that will allow me to avoid conflict with the great Hickok. In fact I venture to surmise that he will be in conflict with a young gunman called Hardin who is being pushed into a fight he does not want and might not win. 

I have noticed two things in abundance in this town. Cow droppings and bad teeth. So I am hopeful of starting up a practice that will support me in a manner that will preclude me for relying on games of chance as anything other than a pleasant pastime.

Speaking of which I believe I have run into an old friend who we both knew back in Missouri. Kate Melvin who was the young foreign bride of my friend and fellow dental student Silas Melvin who had joined us on those wonderful picnics that we had along the river in the springtime of our youth. I am sorry to say she is in reduced circumstances that I would not trouble you with. I will endeavor to converse with her to see if I might help.

 

Please remember that I am always at your service. If you ever call be assured that I will come and let nothing stand in my way. Not the disapproval of your parents. Not the wrath of your God. I am always your obedient servant and seek to only to do what will make you happy. Even if it means being these many miles away from you.

With fondest regards,

Your Dearest Cousin,

John

 

Doc Holliday Must Die

 

The play continued into the night. Lady Luck ladled her charms from one player to the next. Which was not unusual as it seemed that they were evenly matched. In time quality will tell and the drover busted on a pair of sixes.  Mike Williams was the next to drop out as he had to walk the town  for the final patrol of the night. Since he had lost a fair amount nobody protested. That left the gunmen at the table. Hickok, Hardin, Doc and Ben Thompson made for a deadly game. Polite and soft spoken but deadly none the less. The only rub was the Thompson continually tried to goad Hardin into a conflict with the Marshal. He was subtle. Maybe too subtle because Hardin while a being a hot head did not bite at any of his provocations.

“Take two please” said Doc as he tried to match up a pair of deuces. He drew an Ace and a Queen. He looked up and saw a new girl walk down the stairs with a customer. She looked very familiar. Tall and pleasingly plump she had two proud breasts prominently displayed in low cut frock. As big and proud as they were they were nothing as compared to her regal proboscis. Her Regal Roman Nose gave her a strong and bold countenance. She seemed to him to be someone he knew from long ago. Where did he know her from?

He turned back to the table the play was to him and he had been raised five dollars so he folded. Thompson took the hand. Again. If he kept that up he might be the one to have a problem with Hardin. Men plan and God laughs.

While Hickok was shuffling the deck the girl came up to stand behind Thompson and put her hand on his shoulder. She looked over at Doc and smiled demurely. Well as demure as a woman with cum stains on her dress might be. “Helloooo sir” she purred in a strange accent. Suddenly Doc remembered. That was Russian. No Hungarian. “Hello Mrs. Melvin. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Mrs. Melvin? Who the hell is that?” Marshall Hickok chuckled. “This here is Big Nose Kate that Ben was telling you about young Mr. Hardin.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance Ma’am” Hardin murmured politely as he stared at his cards. The game required his concentration and he wasn’t going to get sidetracked. There was time to fuck. Time to play cards. He liked to do them one at a time.

Doc looked at the young woman’s face and saw the plea in her eyes. “I must be mistaken Ma’am pardon me for my clumsiness. You remind me of someone I knew back in Missouri. I beg your pardon for my confusion.” “Yes I am sorry but I do not know you sir” she said in a soft Hungarian accent. “But I would like to.” She smiled at him and walked away.

“Looks like she likes you Holliday” said Thompson. “Course she likes most anybody with a dollar and a dick but still she seems to taken a fancy to you. Maybe she has a bad tooth.”

Doc looked up from his cards and squinted at Thompson. The free flowing tension  in the air had seemed to turn its attention to him. He would play it smooth. No need from trouble. He couldn’t shoot his landlord before he even moved in.

“That‘s possible Ben. Once I set up my office I will be able to accommodate her. In whatever her needs may be.” “Can we play cards” snapped Hardin. He had lost the last four hands and was getting increasingly out of sorts. “The deal is to you Holliday.” “Yes it seems that it is” said Doc. He smoothly gathered up the cards and started his shuffle. It might be a good idea to stack the deck so the young gunman could win a hand or two. Otherwise it might come to a cartridge affair when it need not.

There was a commotion at the bar. Two disreputable patrons pushed each other. One of them reached out and grabbed Big Nose Kate's breast and pulled it out of her dress. She hauled off and slugged him. Right in the eye. He slugged her right back and knocked her to the floor and drew back his leg to kick her. The other miscreant grabbed him to stop him and they struggled against the bar.

 

All the players had risen from their seats. Thompson started to walk over but Hickok put out his hand to stop him. “This is my play Ben” he said. He hustled over to interpose himself between the two drunks and the girl. Doc was right behind him and helped the soiled dove to her feet. She was beside herself. So much so that she didn’t notice that her teat was still outstanding. Although most of the men in the bar noticed. They all thought it was outstanding.

“I told you before McCall that I wasn’t going to put up with your shit. Abusing the whores is no way for a man to act. Let’s go I am taken’ you in.” “Fuck you Hickok she deserved it. She’s just a fuckin’ whore and whores deserve what they get.” “McCall I can’t believe you would talk such. What would your mother say?” “Why would she care?” “Why she would be upset that you were denigrating her profession.”

McCall was dumb so it took him a minute to understand the insult. Being as he was also stupid he decided to go for his gun. Unfortunately for him his piece was a dog leg pistol as big as a horses cock. He kept it in his belt because it made him feel like a big man. He took the gigantic single action gat out and brought it up so slowly you could time it with a sundial. When he had it half way up Hickok palmed his left hand Colt and shot him dead.

“Damn it Hickok why did you have to kill the dummy” said Phil Coe who had rushed out of the office when he heard the shot. "You can't go shooting my custom." “He had it coming Phil” said Thompson. “He was abusing the whores and he drew first. The Marshal saved me the trouble.” “No trouble Ben. Stepping on a bug. That’s my job.”

Deputy Williams burst in through the doors leveling a shotgun at the crowd. “Calm down Mike all the festivities are over. Get a couple of these fellas and take McCall down to corpse tenders. Gentlemen I guess we will call it a night. I reckon a killing always puts a damper on an evening.”

The players all agreed and took their money from the table. Hickok nodded at them and walked away. Hardin and Holliday watched him as he strode away.

“Damn he was fast” said Hardin. He shook his head with a sense of admiration and not a little envy. “He did that right slick. Couldn’t have done any better my ownself.” “Something to think about John Wesley” said Doc. “Something to consider when somebody is pushing you into something you might not be planning to do.” Hardin gave Doc the side eye. “You caught that too. Ben seems to think he can get me to draw on Hickok. It ain’t gonna happen. Not in this life. Why look for trouble when there is no need. Besides it looks like Coe is first in line.” “He might be at that” said Hickok. “Goodnight John Wesley.” “Same to you John. I think I will have a last drink and make the acquaintance of one these fine ladies. The night is young.”

As Doc walked toward the door he glanced over to Kate. She had repaired her dress and looked at him. She nodded. Barely. Doc winked at her and headed out into the night. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

 

He might even have to pull a tooth.

Doc Holliday Must Die

Hickok sat as usual with his back to the wall. John Wesley Hardin was on his left. Doc was on his right. Ben Thompson sat across from him with a drover on one side and Mike Williams the deputy on the other.
“The game is five card stud gentleman with jacks better to open” said Ben Thompson as he shuffled the deck and started to deal out the cards from left to right. The Drover got to open the ball after the ante.
“Fold” he said not being the boldest at the table. Hardin took two cards and raised. Hickok checked as did Doc and everyone else so the hand went on.
“Never did get a chance to talk much to you Hardin. If you don’t mind me inquiring I was wondering what you are doing up Kansas way” said Hickok. “What is it to you Marshal” incited Thompson. He hoped he could get the kid gunslinger to drawn down on the Marshal before he shot up his partner Coe. Phil thought he could win easy but Ben was not so sure. “The kid has a right to wander. We all did when we were his age.”
“Not a problem Mr. Thompson. I rode up part of the way with trail herd. I had a little difficulty down El Paso way and thought I might see a little of the world. I just didn’t like looking at the back of a cow while I was doing it so I rode on up ahead to hurrah the town a little.” “Fair enough. There is a sight to see. In fact you should look up Big Nose Kate” said Thompson. “That there is a sight to see.” “Ha I reckon that’s right” said Williams. “She is a sight to see. A pert young filly with a nice set of titties.” “Amen brother” said Marshal Hickok. “That is a grand place to start your sight-seeing.” Doc took the hand with a pair of sixes.
“So why are you in Abilene John” asked Deputy Williams. Hickok often uses him as a social buffer. He was a hail fellow well met who could smooth over the rough edges of Wild Bill’s demeanor. Many’s the difficulty that was avoided by Mike Williams’s bonhomie. “I am going to open my dental practice. Mr. Thompson has seen fit to rent me an office and I will be pulling molars directly.” “I will have to look you up then” said John Wesley. “I have a tooth that has been paining me badly the last month. It is a sight painful when I drink anything hot or cold. I can’t even have any coffee in the morning.” “Stick to whiskey son. It is best in the morning. Gives you a good start to the day.” Thompson took the pot with three Queens.
“So you are a landlord now Ben. What about your partner? Is Coe a landlord too?” “Yes he is Marshal. We are partners after all.” “Well you best advise him then. He should be careful of high stepping because soon the only real estate he will be occupying will be six feet deep and six feet long. I won’t warn him again.” “This here is a friendly game Marshal. You will have to address Coe direct if you want satisfaction” said Thompson. “Let it go Bill” said Williams. “No need to press it. Let’s just set and enjoy the night.” Hickok took the hand with four of a kind. “Well it is right enjoyable after all. I think I will take your advice Mike.”

Doc Holliday Must Die

Hickok strolled into the saloon and walked up to the bar. He motioned to bartender who put a bottle and glass in front of him and got out of the way. The Marshal looked up at reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He could see the table with Thompson, Doc and Hardin. With Phil Coe on his right he was boxed in. He did not see very worried.

Coe walked up next to him and put his hands on the bar. “Why did you decide to come here Hickok?” You know you are not welcome here.” Wild Bill glanced at him. Smiled. Took a sip of his drink. Chuckled.

“You turning away business Coe. No wonder you boys are doing so poorly. Not half bright are you pilgrim?”

Ben Thompson got up and walked to the other side of Hickok. “Now there is no reason to tussle boys. Don’t listen to Phil. He has been feeling poorly. You are certainly welcome here Marshal.”

“That’s good to know Ben but this is my town and I will go where I damn well please. No card slick with a dead muskrat on his face has a say.”

“I say what I damn well please Hickok” blurted Coe. “It ain’t your nevermind. You just can’t abide that I am the best shot in this damned town. Hell in Kansas for that matter. I can shoot down a bird on the wing.”

“Maybe pilgrim but is that bird shorting back?”

“Well we will just have to see what we will see Marshal.”

“Not tonight” said Ben Thompson as he sidled in between Coe and Hickok. “Marshal why don’t you join me over at my table. We can get up a game. Come and set with John Wesly Hardin and John Holliday over at my table. Drinks on the house.”

“Well that sounds like a hospitable offer Ben. Don’t mind if I do. We will take this up later Mr. Coe.”

“Anytime Marshal. Any old time at all.”

Doc Holliday Must Die

John Wesley Hardin scanned the saloon. He looked over at the table with Ben Thompson and Doc. Nodding at Thompson he walked over.

“How do Ben?” “Just fine John Wesley. Have a seat. Let me get you a drink” said Thompson. He signaled to one of the soiled doves that did double duty at the Bullshead. They served drinks. Gave head to all comers. Even to a bull if would come to that.

“This is John Holliday. He is going to open a dental practice in the back of the building.” Doc nodded at John Wesley. It was strange. They were both very thin. Doc had the pallor and the frailness of a consumptive. Hardin had the slim deadly countenance of a rattler. Predators who recognized each other. And stepped lightly.

“A dentist. I have heard tell of you. It has been said that you have had a few pistol and cartridge affairs down Newton way.” “Word travels fast. It wasn’t of my doing. It was unfortunate but it had to be.” “It has happened to me as well so you can preach it brother.”

John Wesley slugged down his whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He sipped his beer and looked around the room.

“Have you met the Marshall? I heard tell of him too” said Hardin. “Yes I met him when I came into town. Seemed a right friendly fella” Doc said. “He was polite enough.” “I thought so too” replied Hardin.

Ben Thompson snorted. “I don’t know about that John Wesley. I heard tell he was gunning for you. He wants to be known as the gun slick in town. You know he will want to catch you short when you ain’t prepared. That’s how he works.”

Doc squinted at Thompson. That didn’t sound right. Maybe this was not the place to be if the lead was going to fly so indiscriminately.  He had enough problems of his own account without buying into someone else’s mistakes.

Another dandy walked down the stairs from the second floor along with two of the girls. He had slicked down hair and a full goatee. With his hand on one girls tit and the other on the other’s ass. Two guns tied down ready for business. He looked just like what the preacher described the devil to be.

“That’s my partner Phil Coe. Let’s put your proposition to him John.”

Suddenly the doors were pushed open and Will Bill walked in. He looked at Phil Coe. Coe looked back. You could feel the hate flowing between them from across the room.

Doc touched his hold out piece in the pocket of his vest. Hardin took the toggle off his left handed pistol on the side they could not see.

Ben Thompson sighed. “Shit” he murmured. This is not what I wanted to see tonight.” 

Doc Holliday Must Die.

Doc walked down the boardwalk and pushed open the batwing doors of the Bullshead saloon. Typical trail end saloon. Shabby elegance redolent of stale beer and manure. Several cowboys were at the bar drinking beer. The faro dealer sat at his box with a whisky drummer and a trail boss.

Of course there was a poker game in the large table in the middle of the floor.

Doc walked up to the bar and situated himself at the turn so his back was mostly towards the wall. Best to be careful. The bartender drifted over and cocked an eyebrow.

“Beer please” Doc said. No reason to start too fast. The night was young. “Question friend. The owner around?” “Thompson or Coe?” “Either would do.”

The bartender nodded over at a well dressed burly man sitting by himself at a corner table.  “That’s Thompson over there.” “Thank you kindly.”

Doc walked over to the table and waited respectfully until Ben Thompson looked up.

“Evening Mr. Thompson. My name is John Holliday. I wondered if I might ask you a question.”

“Sure. Light and set. You name seems familiar. Do I know you?”

“I don’t know if you do. I have a question. I heard at the hotel that you own this building and there is an office at the side of the building with a separate entrance.  I wonder if I might rent it. I am a dentist and I want to try to set up a practice.”

“Well the town could use a dentist that is the plain truth. We can work something out I suppose. Let me talk to Coe my partner and we will see. But I don’t see a problem.”

Suddenly the doors swung open and a young gunman stood in the door. You knew he was a gunman and not a cowboy because of the way his gun belt set with matching Colts. He smelled of death.

“Damn. Just what I need” said Thompson. “What do you mean?” “That’s John Wesley Hardin. I hope I don’t have to kill him tonight.”

Doc Holliday Must Die

Doc rode into Abilene in the early afternoon. He rode through the bustling streets. It was amazing that a small Kansas town could be so busy but ever since the rail road came and the cow herds followed it was as if it was New York or Chicago. Just with an overwhelming smell of cow shit. And despair.

He rode up to the hotel and tied his weary mare to the post out in front. There was a dandy sitting in a chair on the porch. He had long hair down to his shoulders and matching Colts in a red sash with the handles backwards. A badge. Dirty linen with lace at the cuffs.  A disheveled dandy. He was famous. Everybody knew Wild Bill.

“Good afternoon Marshal.”

“Howdy pilgrim. New in town I reckon?’

“Yes I am. Thought I might set up a practice here. Do you have a dentist in town?”

“Can’t say if we do. Not that I would know right off hand. But I am sure that Ike down at the desk would know. So you are a dentist? I heard tell of a dentist who was a fair hand with a pistol.”

“Name’s Holliday. John Holliday. But my friends call me Doc. I ain’t looking for trouble Marshal.”

“Wouldn’t think you would partner. But you seem like the type that trouble finds none the less. Just know that I give a man a fair shake. The first time.”

“Not a problem Marshal. I am a peaceable man.”

Doc shouldered his saddlebags and walked into the hotel.

“Like a room please. At the end of the hall if possible.”

“Not a problem sir. Just sign here. That would be one dollar a day.”

“Here’s two weeks in advance. Say is there a dentist in town?”

“Not hardly. Anyone with a toothache just goes to see the farrier. He’s the closest we have to a dentist and can pull a tooth as fast as he can cure the colic.”

“Fair enough.”

“That would be room 2 B on the second floor at the end of the hall.”

“What’s the best place to get a meal in town?’

“Well most of the cattlemen are partial to the Drover’s Cottage. But I reckon Hop Sing’s is pretty fine vittles. Good price. Just make sure he washes his hands is all.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

 

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”

 

Doc Holiday Must Die!

Marshal Miller came into the saloon with his gun drawn. Doc sat with his hands on the table in full view to avoid misunderstandings.

“Had to happen Jim. He came after me with a pig sticker. You can inquire of the rest of the congregation. I think they would swear to it. Couldn’t be avoided.”

“Well I reckon it could have been avoided if you were in some other town Doc.  I can’t let you stay here and shoot up the citizens now can I?”

“Shoot up the citizens. Not hardly Jim. This poor benighted soul was not a citizen. In fact he was barely sentient.  You might as well call the rock outside the livery stable a citizen.”

“Maybe Doc but I couldn’t have you shoot that up either. It scares the women and excites the horses.  Or excites the women and scares the horses. Either way it makes for a poor ride. Can’t let it happen again Doc. You need to make tracks. Pronto.”

“Fair enough Jim. You have always been a gentleman. You will not get any arguments from me. I will be on my way on the next stage.”

“Tonight Doc. Get a horse and ride. Or I will be forced to put you in jail and see what a trial might bring. There are enough people who hate you here and who wouldn’t mind seeing you wear a different kind of cravat. So you best be on your way.”

Doc stared at the Marshal and just shook his head. “Well I guess that puts a tear in it. Gentlemen thank you for the game. I will be seeing you down the line.” Doc scooped up the pot. Folded the greenbacks and put the coins in one of the multiple side pockets of his silk vest. Taking his finely brushed old fashioned beaver hat he straightened his withered shoulders as best he might and walked into the night.

A small sickly man with a deadly sting.

Not a rattler. More like a consumptive asp.

Kill you just as dead. But without the warning rattle.

Doc Holiday Must Die!

 

Doc knew he had to kill him. The only question was when.

The mark had been playing the worst game of poker that he had ever seen. The burly teamster looked like he could barely read and it was a wonder that he could recognize the meaning of the cards he was playing. Best of all he was stinking drunk. Stinking in all aspects. He reeked of stale tobacco and rot gut whiskey with flesh that had not seen water since the last time he was caught in a rainstorm.

It was only a matter of time before it came to pistols. Not be the first time. A problem none the less. You see the sheriff had warned him when he rode into Newton. He had managed to keep his nose clean. Well relatively clean since his nose could often be found in a saloon girl’s cooze. Doc was an old school Southern gentlemen but he did favor the soiled doves. Their corruption assuaged the rot in his soul.

The whiskey drummer with the stained cravat had the play. “Two” he said. Doc spun two cards across the table. The drummer picked them up delicately and frowned. He tossed down his hand. “Fold.”

Just Doc and idjit who smelled like a constipated buffalo. “Three” he slurred. Doc sent them across the table from the bottom of the deck. No need to trifle with circumstance. Since it would come to killing he might as well win the pot.

“You have the play sir” Doc said. The teamster googled at his hand like it was the first time he figured out what his privates were used for besides pissing.  “I raise twenty” he said. Doc checked his hand and shook his head. “I will see that sir and raise you fifty.” “FIFTY! YOU COCKSUCKING LUNGER! I AIN’T GOT BUT ANOTHER TEN DOLLARS TO MY NAME!” “That will suffice sir. You can just call all in. I will be willing to let it be.”

The teamster glared and pushed his last few coins to the middle of the table. He turned over his cards.  “Three sixes” he said as he lunged to pull in the pot. “Sorry sir but I think you are premature.” Doc turned over his hand. “I believer four Queens would be the better sir.” The teamster looked stupidly at the cards and he lost it. He jumped up and pulled an enormous Tennessee Toothpick and started to slash across the table.

Doc calmly palmed a derringer and shot him through the eye.  

It had been twelve minutes.