Legend

by D. V. Berkom

  Within hours of the fire lot jumpers showed up, attempting to take possession of the destroyed property. The uproar from the townspeople was immediate. Virgil Earp, having been designated acting chief of police after the original chief skipped town, and in addition to his federal status as marshal, convinced the jumpers to leave with the business end of his gun. A week later the ring of hammers and carpentry joined the pounding of the stamp mills as the townsfolk set to rebuilding Tombstone.

  In appreciation, the city council made Virgil’s position permanent.

  By Independence Day several of the buildings destroyed in the fire had been partially rebuilt and plans for a subdued celebration had been set in motion. News of an attempt to assassinate President Garfield was one reason for the somberness of the occasion. Another being the money set aside for fireworks had gone toward purchasing the fire wagon.

  Claire woke early, anticipating a day of celebration to counteract the grim resolve so prevalent in town. After looking out the window she decided to bring an umbrella. Dark clouds had gathered, threatening rain. She put on the blue serge dress and pinned on a dark blue hat with a short veil. Then she slipped her pistol into her secret pocket and with a quick look in the mirror opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  “Hello, Claire.” Kate Elder stood next to Doc’s door, fist raised as if to knock.

  Claire flinched, her hand instinctively going for the gun in her skirt. “Kate.” She nodded at the other woman.

  “Have you seen Doc?” Kate asked.

  “I didn’t hear him come home last night, although he may have slipped in while I was asleep.” The boarding house was such that most everything in one room could be heard in the others, making privacy almost nonexistent.

  Kate gave her a tentative smile and took a step toward her. “I believe that we got off on the wrong foot the last time I was here. I would like to remedy that.” She offered her hand.

  Claire studied her for a moment, remembering that her old mentor, Thomas, had taught her to remain wary of adversaries but at the same time act charitable to throw them off. “That sounds good to me.” Claire shook her hand and then stepped back to put distance between them.

  Kate smiled and nodded. “Good. Doc always speaks well of you. I’m grateful for your…” She frowned as she struggled to find the word. “Your sympathy? Is that right?”

  “Close enough. I’m very fond of Doc. It’s no burden.” Claire started for the stairs and stopped. She turned back and said, “Perhaps we’ll see each other this evening during the festivities?”

  The woman’s relieved expression told Claire that Kate was most likely genuine in her attempt at reconciliation.

  “That would be nice.”

  Claire continued down the stairs and into town, a weight lifted from her shoulders that she hadn’t even known was there.

  Later in the day Claire made her way to the grandstand for a reading of the Declaration of Independence. Red, white, and blue bunting had been draped everywhere, giving the town a festive air. The citizens themselves were having a high time, drowning out much of what amounted to stump speeches by the local politicos with their animated laughter and hijinks. The Tombstone Brass Band was on hand, lending a truly patriotic theme to events.

  She caught a glimpse of Doc but didn’t see Kate, so she walked over to speak to him. He wore his gun belt, having requested and received a permit to carry a weapon in town. The new ordinance recently passed by the Citizens’ Safety Committee was apparently intended to control only certain visitors to the town of Tombstone. Oddly enough not Doc, whose reputation would normally require oversight.

  “You’ve seen Kate?” she asked.

  Doc nodded. The nervous tic she’d noticed before was back. “Indeed I have. She’s not feeling well this evening.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. She attempted to make amends with me earlier today at the boarding house.”

  “You don’t say. And, pray tell, what was your reaction?”

  “I accepted. Peace in the valley, you know.”

  Doc snorted and shook his head.

  “Would you mind some company?” Claire grinned at the gunslinger and batted her eyelashes in an attempt to make him laugh. It didn’t work. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “The scalawag cowboys are in town. Wyatt and his brothers are patrolling the streets as are some of Virgil’s men, but we’ve been put on notice in advance of any possible hooliganism.” He nodded toward a small group across the street that included Wyatt and Morgan. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’d like to see if there’s any news.”

  Doc left Claire to talk with Wyatt and the others. The rain had begun in earnest so she allowed the merry tinkle of piano music to draw her into the Alhambra.

  Inside, Johnny Behan and several of his deputies were crowded around a table. One of them moved aside, revealing Kate Elder sitting in their midst. Curious as to what they were talking about Claire edged closer but only caught snippets of their conversation.

  “Will you swear to that?” Behan asked Kate. By the looks of things she’d been drinking heavily. Her bodice was askew and her normally impeccable hair had escaped its confines.

  Kate nodded and replied, “Damn right I will.”

  Behan’s expression resembled the cat that ate the canary as he poured her another shot, which she threw back with alacrity.

  Was Kate looking to make Doc jealous? Sidling up to Behan or any of his friends would likely get the job done. The more Claire watched, the less that appeared to be the case—Behan didn’t comport himself like a man who was interested in Kate. More like he was urging her on as he plied her with drinks.

  Claire studied Kate. A bruise had formed next to her left eye, evidence of a possible altercation with Doc. So much for Doc promising to never hit a woman again.

  Kate laughed raucously at something one of the deputies said. The other men nudged each other and smiled. Behan had a most determined expression on his face and didn’t join in their laughter.

  Something was off—and Claire had a feeling that whatever it was didn’t bode well for Doc.

  Chapter 6

  July 6, 1881 – Tombstone, Arizona Territory

  * * *

  Claire saw them first.

  Doc was dealing faro at the Alhambra when Johnny Behan and three of his deputies strode into the saloon and made a beeline to Doc’s table. Claire gave him a nudge and nodded toward the group.

  Doc watched them approach with interest. “Why, I believe they’re coming for yours truly. What do you think?”

  “I think you might just want to leave while you still can,” Claire said drily. She’d told him about Kate meeting with Behan and his men on the Fourth of July but he’d laughed off her concerns.

  “She’s got a temper but she’d never do anything to harm me,” he’d said, adding, “except perhaps hit me over the head with a paperweight.” He’d winced as he touched the back of his head.

  Behan was the first to reach them. “John Henry Holliday—you’re under arrest for the murder of Bud Philpot and Peter Roerig and the attempted stage robbery near Contention on the night of March the fifteenth.”

  Claire’s heart stuttered and she glanced at Doc. His face, already pale in the best of circumstances, had drained of color. He passed the cards to another dealer and stood.

  “I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but I must profess my innocence.”

  Behan smiled coldly. “That’s not what your lady friend says.” He waved a piece of paper in his face. “I have in my hand a signed affidavit stating that you confessed your misdeeds to Miss Kate Elder.”

  Doc sighed in resignation. “Claire, darlin’,” he said in a weary voice, “would you be so kind as to collect my gun from the bartender?”

  “Of course, Doc.” Claire waited until Behan and his deputies marched Doc out of the saloon before she retrieved his gun belt and went in search of Kate.

  Claire found her drinking at the Hatch Saloon on Allen Str
eet. Two men were playing billiards while a small group stood at the bar drinking. The men tipped their hats to Claire before going back to their conversation.

  “Come, Claire,” Kate slurred from her table of one, a half-empty bottle of whiskey and an empty shot glass in front of her. “Siddown.”

  Claire pulled out the chair next to her and slammed Doc’s gun belt on the table. Kate attempted to focus but wasn’t able to, so she closed one eye and looked at Claire. “What?”

  “Recognize that?” Claire asked, nodding at the leather gun belt. She’d given Doc’s gun to Wyatt after she informed him of his friend’s arrest.

  Kate took another look at the belt and shrugged. “Looks like Doc’s.”

  Claire leaned in close and grabbed Kate’s wrist. “He’s been arrested,” she hissed, her anger at a boil. “Because of you.”

  “Ow. That hurts.” Kate tried to pull her hand away but Claire held firm.

  “I don’t care if it’s broken. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  “Vat do you mean? Let go.” Her accent had grown thicker with drink.

  “Your ‘sworn affidavit’ put your so-called husband in jail for murder.” Claire let out a disgusted sigh. “He could hang, Kate.” She released the woman’s wrist and crossed her arms.

  “He told me himself he vas there that night,” Kate said, wrinkling her nose as she tried to focus on Claire. Evidently, there were two of her. “How do you like our beloved Doc now, hmm?”

  “Listen,” Claire said, softening her voice. “I know he hit you and I’m sorry.”

  Kate touched the bruise near her eye as her gaze drifted to the floor.

  “But that’s not a good enough reason to let him hang. That’s a good reason to leave him.”

  Kate leaned her head back and laughed. “And there it is. The real reason you’re here.” She threw her arms wide, almost unseating herself. Claire reached out to steady her. “You vant me to leave so you can haf him for yourself.”

  “No, Kate. I’m here to ask you to recant your testimony. Doc isn’t an angel by any means, but he doesn’t deserve to die at the end of a rope.”

  Kate waved her hand at Claire. “He von’t hang. He’s a lucky bastard.”

  “But what if he does? How will you feel then? When you’ve sobered up?”

  A stormy expression crossed her features, and she slammed her fist on the table. “I vill not be lectured to by a woman who can’t even hold onto her man.” Drunken fury raged in her eyes. “He sent you, didn’t he?” She rose on unsteady legs and raised her hand. There was a flash of metal as she lunged for Claire.

  Claire easily sidestepped Kate’s knife but Kate continued to rage, slashing indiscriminately at the air. One of the men at the bar rushed her from behind while Claire grabbed her wrist and squeezed. The knife fell to the floor. Tears streamed down Kate’s cheeks as she realized the futility of her struggle.

  “Kate Elder, you’re under arrest,” the man holding her said. Claire glanced at his overcoat. He wore a badge designating him as one of Virgil Earp’s newly installed policemen.

  “I don’t think she meant to kill me. She’s quite drunk.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, miss, I saw what I saw. She needs to sleep it off. Jail would be the best place for her.”

  Claire nodded, conceding his point. “You’re probably right.” She’d talk to Kate in the morning once she sobered up.

  Word of Kate’s drunkenness and subsequent arrest spread, and her testimony was deemed tainted. After consideration of the evidence, Doc was released.

  Kate finally left for her boarding house in Globe, and Doc continued as he always had—drinking and gambling in Tombstone and the surrounding areas, and sometimes traveling to Tucson for a change of pace.

  Throughout the chaotic summer and early fall Claire practiced shooting and gambling, and became quite good at counting cards, which gave her an edge in most of the games. She won more often than not, which further burnished her reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

  Most eligible men didn’t dare approach Claire because of her reputation as a gunslinger and because of her friendship with Doc and the Earps, which suited her just fine. She didn’t have time to waste on a man who lacked the courage to court her because of her abilities or her associations. The ones who did try weren’t worth the price of salt and were usually liquored up, which didn’t leave a good first impression. Generally she didn’t mind being alone, but every once in a while she caught herself wondering if she’d ever find someone with whom to share her life.

  Late one evening in October, Claire had just finished a successful game of faro at the Oriental Saloon when she decided to call it a night. She nodded at Wyatt, who’d been dealing, collected her winnings, and stood to leave.

  “Ain’t no way you won that pot fair,” Ike Clanton, one of the players, growled. Ike’s slurred speech and unfocused eyes told Claire and everyone around him that he was yet again on one of his benders, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. In fact, spirits made him more unpredictable if that were possible. Connected to the cowboys, he was known for being a hothead.

  Claire brought her hand to the gun in the hidden pocket in her skirt and leveled her gaze at him. “You’d best sleep it off, Ike. You’re not seeing what you think.”

  Ike’s face turned red at the admonishment. His curly blond hair and cherubic face gave him a chip on his shoulder the size of a buffalo, especially in the macho world of Tombstone. Always trying to prove himself, Ike would drink for long stretches, building up the courage—some called it stupidity—to take on whoever looked at him crosswise. His father had reined him in, but with Old Man Clanton’s recent death Ike was unfettered and free to act however he liked.

  Ike’s eyes narrowed, and he spit a stream of tobacco on the floor, missing the spittoon by a mile. “You think yer so damn smart. Well, you ain’t. Yer jest an uppity bitch who cain’t figure out whether she’s a girl or a boy.” His laughter ricocheted through the room.

  Claire and Wyatt exchanged looks, and Wyatt gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head. She nodded and turned to leave, secure in the fact that he’d take care of Ike.

  Without warning Ike lunged across the table for Claire, upending chips and cards and drinks. Wyatt grabbed him from behind and slammed him facedown on the table as Claire leapt out of reach. She stopped short of drawing her pistol, not wanting to alert anyone to the concealed weapon.

  Just another night in Tombstone.

  “Damn you, Earp.” Pinned to the table, Ike Clanton’s muffled curse had less of an impact than it otherwise might. “You cain’t even keep yer trap shut ’bout things that shouldn’t be said.”

  “What the hell are you goin’ on about, Ike?” Wyatt’s look of annoyance was about as emotive as he usually got.

  “I know you tol’ Doc ’bout our agreement.”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. “We ain’t got no agreement, Clanton. Now shut your mouth before I have you arrested for drunk and disorderly.”

  “You tol’ Doc ’bout our plan to ambush them fugitives—I know you did. You and yer brothers’re gonna get me killed.”

  “Damn it, Ike. I don’t know what else I can say to stop your confounded, paranoid imagination. I did not tell Doc about any so-called ambush.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Wyatt turned and shouted at his younger brother, Morgan. “Get over to Tucson and tell Doc to come back to town. Tell him I need him here to refute Ike’s everlasting stupidity and get him off my back.”

  “Will do, Wyatt,” Morgan replied.

  Claire figured it was time to go. Ike wouldn’t bother her anymore that evening. “Thank you, Wyatt,” she said, and took her leave.

  As she made her way back to her room at Fly’s, she glanced at the stars and thought of Doc, wishing he’d been there tonight. He’d grown distant; she assumed it was because he’d been seeing Kate more often on his trips out of town. The only thing that kept Claire from leaving
town was Doc. She wasn’t fond of the unpredictable Arizona weather—the blazing hot summers and freezing winters, the floods and relentless wind—and she’d grown tired of the dirt and dust and danger of living in a desert mining town. True, she’d grown in her shooting abilities because of Doc’s tutelage, and she’d gotten better with the tomahawk and the bow, but she couldn’t shake her restlessness. If she needed to, she could probably make a living as a gambler, especially since most men tended to underestimate her. There were lots of places to gamble.

  Maybe it was time to move on.

  Chapter 7

  October 1881 – Tombstone, Arizona Territory

  * * *

  Not long after the altercation between Wyatt and Ike at the Oriental, Morgan located Doc. He and Kate returned to Tombstone and took a room at Fly’s. Claire welcomed them back, happy to see the two of them getting along for once. She studied Kate for signs that Doc had hit her. From what she could observe, he hadn’t.

  Kate’s boarding house in Globe had burned to the ground and she’d been cast adrift, unmoored in a town that hadn’t captured Doc’s interest. Claire asked her what her plans might be going forward.

  “I will stay with Doc for now.”

  “I thought you hated Tombstone.” And Wyatt Earp, Claire thought, but didn’t say.

  Kate gave her a resigned look. “This is where Doc is happy. I must be where Doc is happy.”

  Doc had forgiven Kate for bearing witness against him in the Benson robbery, and Claire realized that no matter what happened, the two of them would always be connected. Even though Claire had no romantic interest in Doc, she grew wistful at the thought of someone loving her enough to forgive any transgression. No one was perfect, and Claire was acutely aware of her own faults.