Doc Holiday 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 never mind.

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 dreadfuls. 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 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