Robert Parker - Gunman's Rhapsody

“Might.”

“You know I don’t care if it happens,” Doc said.

“I know.”

Doc drank some more whiskey and tipped his head back, letting the whiskey trickle down his throat. Then he swallowed and laughed and chased it with some beer.

“And I like whiskey, and beer, and,” he laughed again, “and wild, wild women.”

“Why do you suppose Behan put Kate up to that trick?” Wyatt said.

“You got his girl,” Holliday said. “Johnny figured to paint me with shit and get some on you. You and Virgil ought to bring in them boys who really done the Benson stage. Take some of the bite out of Sheriff Behind.”

“Got to locate them first,” Wyatt said.

He wasn’t looking at Holliday. He was gazing out through the saloon doors into the street.

“They’re out there with the rustlers, Wyatt.” Doc leaned back in his chair and made a wide sweeping gesture with his left hand. “Somewhere out there.”

Wyatt smiled, still looking out the door.

“You ain’t being much of a help, Doc.”

“No, I probably ain’t,” Holliday said. “Mostly I’m probably a hindrance.”

And he drank off the rest of his whiskey.

The Citizens Safety Committee met in Schieffelin Hall two days after Pete Spence and Frank Stilwell had robbed the Bisbee Stage and been caught at once.

“Frank Stilwell’s a goddamned deputy sheriff,” Bill Herring said. “We can’t trust the damned law officers; who we got left but ourselves?”

Milt Clapp tried to make a motion, but the noise in the room was too much. Everyone spoke at once. On one side of the room, Virgil leaned silently against the wall with Wyatt on one side and Morgan on the other. John Behan stood up beside Clapp and gestured for silence. No one paid him any mind. He waited. Several people yelled that everyone should shut up and let Johnny talk. The noise level dropped only slightly. But Behan jumped at it.

“You people are not fighting men,” Behan said. “You can’t go up against the cowboys.”

The crowd roared that it damned well could, and was eager to do it.

“If you do this, at least get some people who know how to do it,” Behan shouted. “You’re a bank teller, Milton. Bill’s a lawyer.”

The crowd responded in a hundred tongues that it knew how to do it, and would be thrilled at the chance.

“The Earps are here,” Behan shouted. “At least get some men like that with you. Let them be the enforcers.”

The crowd liked the idea so much that it drowned any further sound that Behan might have made. The Earps were impassive against the wall.

“What’s Johnny’s game?” Morgan said.

“Putting us on the side of the vigilantes don’t do us no good with the cowboys,” Wyatt said.

“Hell, arresting Stilwell and Spence didn’t do us all that much good,” Virgil said.

“Frank McLaury’s tight with both of them,” Morgan said. “Him and the Clantons. They’ll be cussing us out for sure.”

“Give me the real rustlers anytime,” Wyatt said.

“Like Ringo?” Morgan said.

Wyatt nodded.

“And Curley Bill,” Wyatt said. “Those boys make their run, and if the law catches them at it, they expect the law to arrest them. They don’t take it like you insulted them.”

The crowd, having roared its approval of the Earps, was now roaring its disapproval of murder and robbery and ignoring the Earps entirely. There was a good deal of movement on the floor, and the Safety Committee members were jostling each other unmercifully.

“Remember we took Bill in after he shot Fred White?” Virgil said.

“That’s what I mean,” Wyatt said. “He knew we had to.”

“Bill’s a stand-up fella,” Virgil said. “John Ringo too, when he’s sober. Shame they get lumped in with people like Clanton and McLaury.”

The Citizens Safety Committee was now making so much noise that the Earps could barely hear their own conversation.

“Let’s get out of here,” Morgan said.

When they left, no one except Behan noticed that they’d gone.

They lay on their bed at the Cosmopolitan, with the window open so that the wind that drifted up from the west end of Allen Street played across their naked bodies.

“Your brothers like me, Wyatt?”

“Yes.”

“How come we never spend time with them together?”

“Trouble with the women,” Wyatt said. “ ’Specially Allie.”

“Virgil’s wife?”

“Uh-huh.”

“She close to Mattie?”

“ Lot closer now than she was when I lived with Mattie,” Wyatt said.

“You run into Johnny at all?”

“Now and then,” Wyatt said.

“He don’t give you any trouble, does he?”

“Not straight on he don’t,” Wyatt said.

“Straight on isn’t Johnny’s way,” Josie said.

She propped herself on her left elbow and ran her right hand lightly over Wyatt’s chest and stomach, tracing the muscles of his abdomen with the tips of her fingers.

“He’s awful tight with the cowboys,” she said.

“I know.”

“What’s wrong between you and the cowboys, Wyatt? I know there’s hard feeling, but I don’t know why.”

“Not just me,” Wyatt said. “All the Earps.”

“Why? What have you done to them?”

“Not much. We fronted the McLaury boys once over some mules. Doc got into it with Ike Clanton.”

“But Doc’s not you.”

“He’s with us,” Wyatt said.

“Why?” Josie said.

“He was with us in Dodge,” Wyatt said.

“That’s no answer,” Josie said.

“Best answer I got.”

“You know Doc’s nothing but trouble. He’s drunk most of the time. He’s crazy when he’s drunk.”

“Hell, Josie, Doc’s crazy when he’s sober,” Wyatt said.

“So why is he with you?”

“Because he is. This isn’t San Francisco. It’s hard living out here, and you don’t always get to pick the people that’ll side with you. Sometimes they pick you.”

“Like Doc.”

“Doc would walk into the barrel of a cannon with me,” Wyatt said.

Josie was quiet. Wyatt raised on an elbow and looked at her. Her skin was very white. It was still hot in the desert, and her body was damp with perspiration. Wyatt bent over and kissed her gently on the mouth. She smiled at him.

“I don’t mean to be full of questions,” she said.

“You can ask me anything you wish,” Wyatt said.

“It’s complicated being a man,” Josie said.

“It’s easy enough,” Wyatt said, “knowing what to do. It’s hard sometimes to do it.”

“I don’t think it’s so hard for you.”

“Hard for everybody, Josie.” He smiled and kissed her again. “Even us.”

“I think even knowing what he should do was hard for Johnny.”

“He sure as hell doesn’t know what he shouldn’t do,” Wyatt said.

“I don’t think Johnny is a bad man,” Josie said. “He’s more a bad combination of weak and ambitious, I think.”

“Doesn’t finally matter which it is,” Wyatt said. “Comes to the same thing. It can get him killed.”

He could see the softness go out of Josie’s naked body.

“No,” she said.

“No?”

“Not by you, Wyatt.”

“I didn’t say it would be me.”

“It can’t be you. I can’t be in your bed knowing you killed the man I used to sleep with.”

“Josie, we both know he wasn’t the first.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I couldn’t.”

“And if he came at me?”

“He won’t,” Josie said.

“You know that.”

“He’s afraid of you, Wyatt.”

“But if he did,” Wyatt said.