Dodge City (Kan.) -- Fiction; Masterson, Bat, 1853-1921 -- Fiction; Western stories
Virgil Earp had made a different plan. The San Simon, as a region, would
not suffer in its respectability were it never again to see a Clanton or
a McLowrie. With a purpose to detain the San Simon delegation, Virgil
Earp assembled his kinsmen, Wyatt and Morgan. To be polite, Virgil
invited Mr. Holiday, then but a week in Tombstone, to have his smoky
part in the coming war. He might act with the Earp household in that
proposed round-up of the road agents.
Virgil Earp did this in a spirit of politeness. It is Western manners
when you have a fight to make—one that is commodious and in which there
is room for their honourable accommodation—to invite your friends. This
you may do to a point that brings your party even with the enemy. You
must not, however, overtop the foe in numbers. That would be the worst
of form, and fix you as coarse and low and ignorant in every refined
mind. With only a trio of the Earps, there existed in the pending
engagement a reputable vacancy, and Virgil asked Mr. Holiday to fill it.
Mr. Holiday accepted. To decline such a courtesy would want a precedent
and destroy one’s good repute. Such action on Mr. Holiday’s part would
have shocked the Tombstone taste, which is as silken as a spaniel’s ear.
The brothers Earp and Mr. Holiday met the San Simon outfit as the
latter, mounted for the long ride, came spurring forth of the corral.
There was no time frittered in speech. The San Simon contingent jumped
from their saddles, each using his horse as a breastwork. The brothers
Earp and Mr. Holiday had no horses to cover them. A horse makes a good
breastwork, but a bad gun-rest.
The gods fought on the side of the law, the stage company, the brothers
Earp, and Mr. Holiday. There was a rattle of six-shooters. Two McLowries
and one Clanton fell with bullets where their thoughts should be. The
smoke lifted, and there stood Ike Clanton begging his life.
“Run for it, then, you coyote!” cried Wyatt Earp, and the suppliant
heaved himself into the saddle and sped with the flying wind.
“That was a mistake, Wyatt,” quoth Mr. Holiday; “you should have
collected his hair.” Mr. Holiday was far of sight; before a week went by
events arose to justify his comment.
After the battle the brothers Earp and Mr. Holiday repaired to the
nearest saloon and refreshed themselves. Then the stage company’s
surgeon came and stopped up the bullet holes, whereof the four owned
seven among them. Tombstone meanwhile issued forth in a body and
joyfully planted the dead.
Six days later, having advantage of the darkness, Ike Clanton, with Mr.
Spence, Mr. Stillwell, and one Florentine, a Mexican, crept to the rear
window of the Eureka saloon, and shot dead Morgan Earp, engaged at
seven-up.
Virgil and Wyatt placed the body of the dead Morgan in a coffin and,
with Mr. Holiday to be of the mourners, carried it to Colton. At Colton
the body would take the train for California, the home of the Earps.
Virgil would go as company for the dead.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account