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squeakyfir · 2 years ago

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I'm your huckleberry (Tombstone 1993) (Doc Holliday)

Description:

The joys of modern inventions and miracles are often taken for granted. Your hungry or thirsty? Get something from the fridge or make it. You need to go somewhere? Drive or call an uber. Your hurt? Go to the doctor.

Your bored? Watch a movie, play video games, watch videos on the internet, talk to people without ever leaving your house.

Some much time is in our hands... but back in the 19th century... you wouldn't last very long.

Diseases are rampant, gun violence is higher, no modern technology, barely any good medicine, almost all of your favorite food doesn't exist and most of the people are rude as hell. But... That doesn't mean all of them were so bad. Love was not something most people in this time really cared about. At least, in the town of Tombstone, Arizona.

After falling asleep with a nice looking stone you bought at a small stand at the carnival, your whole world becomes the opposite. Six people from the past discover you unconscious and alone in the blistering heat and offer help but it was their help that let you meet the most amazing man you've ever met.

John Henry "Doc" Holliday.

Chapter 9

Previous ~ Next

Three weeks... It's been three weeks. During that entire time, you were still being taught how to shoot guns and were given new clothes to try and fit in better and you still stuck next to the Earps the whole time. You were having a real hard time adjusting and it was starting to show. You missed your family, your dog, your home and your modern technological distractions. At least you had your phone and a way to charge it but you still missed it all.

Right now, you were with the Earps at the Oriental Saloon. Earlier that morning, Curly Bill was held for trial since Judge Spicer came back. Right now, you were at the bar being sad since you missed home while the Earps were playing pool and discussing Curly Bills trial. "So it takes Judge Spicer three weeks to get back to town and he says, "Well, did you actually see it?" I said "No. By the time I got there, Marshall White had already been shot." Then Spicer leans forward and he says, "Well, can't have a murder without a witness"". Wyatt then banged the counter with his fist which startled you a bit but you still remained silent.

"Case dismissed" Wyatt said concluding his story.

"What" Morgan asked in disbelief but then shook his head and went back to playing billiards. "Can you beat it" Wyatt asked. "After all that? Aw hell, who cares? None of my buisness anyway". Wyatt had given some money to Milt.

"God, I love this game" Morgan said cheerfully. "Say, (y/n)" Morgan said, "I sure hope this game is still around from where your from". You didn't respond. "(Y/n)"? The Earp brothers looked up and saw that you still had your back turned to them. You weren't drinking anything and just sat in silence. "Hey, (y/n)" Morgan asked as he came over. He was about to repeat his question but then saw that you were holding back more tears and that your lip was quivering. Morgan quickly put his cue down on the billiards table and when he went back to you, both Wyatt and Virgil knew something was wrong.

"Talk to me, what's wrong"? Wyatt and Virgil were on standby and listening to the conversation. Morgan still wasn't getting a response from you and gently took a hold of your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, talk to your bestie". With your free hand, you wiped the tears from your eyes and quietly said, "I'm never going home, am I"? The Earp brothers heard that sad question and didn't know what to respond with. Being more than a hundred years into the future is enough to say that this kind of living is tough and hard to adapt to. Morgan sighed and said, "Listen. I know that this is difficult for you and everything you once had is gone but were here for you. Remember? We're besties! You and me"!

You looked over at him. "You got me, Wyatt, Virgil, Doc, our wives and I know that Sylvie cheers you up. I've seen the way you talk to her. You kinda act like a child when your with her-"

"Don't make fun of me" you said trying to hide your smile and spoke with a tone that made it sound like you were whining. They laughed at that statement.

"That's what I'm talking about" Morgan said and had his point proven. "Now, come on. Where's that smile at"? You hid your face from him. "Come on, (Y/n)" he said teasingly, "Don't make me coax it outta ya'". You still didn't budge and you put your face down into your arms. "Alright, suit yourself". You heard his footsteps and could tell he was right behind you. "Morgan, I wouldn't do that if I were you" Wyatt warned but you could hear it in his voice that he was smiling. Virgil was quietly laughing from the other side of the billiards table and didn't bother to stop Morgan from whatever he was about to do.

As you got more concerned with what Morgan was planning to do, you suddenly felt two hands clutch your sides and gently scratching you. You shrieked and started laughing but when you tried to flee, Morgan made sure you wouldn't escape. "So here's the solution" Morgan laughed. "If she's being difficult, just treat her like the child she is". You were squirming to try and get away from him but he was very strong. Wyatt and Virgil couldn't stop smiling but Wyatt was quick to notice your face getting red. "Alright alright, Morgan. Stop, let her breathe".

Morgan released you and ran over to the corner by a bench. "You happy now" you asked trying to sound mad but the smile on your face wouldn't go away. The Earp brothers just laughed at you. "I am now. Anything to see that beautiful smile on your face would cheer any man up" Morgan said and grabbing his pool cue to continue his game. "Your such a jackass".

"Oh, I'm sorry" Morgan said mockingly, "You need another go round"?

"No"! Morgan just laughed and went back to his game. "But thank you". He looked up and smiled at you. "I think I needed that".

"Did you now" Wyatt asked.

"Yeah. I've been so busy with multitasking that I started to forget some things. And that made me forget about what happened".

"You know" Wyatt said, "I think you tend to forget easily".

"No I don't"! You looked at the bench. "*gasps* A dog"! The Earps just laughed as you sat down and started petting the dog and Wyatt only rolled his eyes and muttered to his brothers. "See what I mean"? And then he spoke loud enough for you and his brothers to hear clearly. "I been thinkin', maybe we outta open up a place of our own, you know? There's the real money. Build it up, milk it for all it's worth, then sell it off for a bundle and breeze outta this burg with more money than Cresus and ready to live like kings. What d'ya think, Virg"? Virgil didn't respond and took a shot of a drink. "Virg? Why don't you and me take a walk around town and see if we can't spot us out a couple of nice lots"?

Virgil looked at him and shrugged but still looked like he agreed to the idea. "It's workin' out just like you said, Wyatt" Morgan said and then taking a drink from his glass pint. "Goddamn, boys, we're lootin' this burg six ways from Sunday".

"Pretty fun too, isn't it" Wyatt asked.

"Actually, yeah, I gotta admit". It was then that the Mayor walked into the Saloon and spoke right to Wyatt. "Excuse me, Wyatt, do you have a moment"? Wyatt looked up and already looked displeased. "Please, will you just hear me out-"

"Now hold on, Mayor" Morgan said. "He already told you no".

"You tell him, Morg" Wyatt said.

"What about you" the Mayor said, gesturing to Virgil. "You were a lawman". Virgil was on the side of the billiards table and calmly said, "I'm busy. We're all busy". Virgil started to make his way around to get in the right position to hit the cue ball. "Sorry, Mayor, but you're barkin' up the wrong tree".

"You know, you men are makin' a lot of money in this town. That's good. That's good. Good for you". The Earps then all looked at him and could tell he was being a bit sarcastic. "In the meantime, a lot of decent people are suffering". The Mayor then put his hands up in defeat and sarcasm. "But, please, don't let me take up anymore of your precious time". The mayor then walked out of the Saloon leaving the Earp brothers no different than before he walked inside. "Rack 'em" Wyatt said.

"I tell ya, I'm sufferin'. From a hangover" Morgan joked. As Wyatt and Morgan were racking up the billiard balls, Virgil sat on the bench next to yours and rested his head on his pool cue. He was lost in thought and it didn't last long. "Hey Virg, you wanna play another round" Morgan asked.

"No". Virgil stood up and announced he was going to take a walk. They understood but then Morgan asked you if you wanna play. You happily accepted and took Virgils cue and started the game. Wyatt only sat down where you sat and just watched you guys enjoy yourselves. Not long after, gunshots were heard and Morgan quickly dropped his pool cue to guide you away from the window with Wyatt getting close to you. It was the cowboys who shot their guns and they rode on past the Saloon not caring if they accidentally shot someone.

"They never stop do they" you asked.

"No" Morgan said. He convinced you to come back to the game and after a minute, Virgil came back and asked for Morgan to come with him. "Hey, (y/n). Why don't you tag along with 'em"?

"Oh, am I boring you" you asked sarcastically.

"No, of course not. I just got something to do. Go on, go with 'em". You shrugged and said goodbye to Wyatt and followed after Virgil and Morgan. They didn't say where they were going but they then went straight to the Sheriffs office and found the Mayor again. Virgil declared that he would accept their offer of being a local law enforcer and propose a new law. Virgil wanted Morgan to join him and Morgan accepted the idea. Unfortunately, the Mayor wouldn't accept you as one since women were not yet seen as relevant for enforcement. You just agreed to help out in any way you can.

Both Virgil and Morgan were sworn into service and started making new posters explaining the law.

THE MAYOR COMMON COUNCIL

of the

CITY of TOMBSTONE territory or Arizona

Do Ordain as Follows.

1. It is hereby declared UNLAWFUL for any person to carry DEADLY WEAPONS, concealed or otherwise (except the same be carried openly in sight, and in the hand) within the limits of the city of Tombstone.

2. This prohibition does not extend to persons immediately leaving or entering the City, who, with good faith, and within reasonable time are proceeding to deposit, or to take such deadly weapons.

3. All fire-arms of every description, and bowie knifes and drinks, are included within the prohibition of this ordinance.

4. Any person or persons violating the provisions of this ordinance shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and, on conviction thereof, shall be fined in a sum not to exceed TWO HUNDRED and FIFTY dollars and costs, or imprisonment in the City Jail for a period not to exceed five months, or both at the discretion of the court.

5. That this ordinance shall take effect and be in force from and after due publication.

APPROVED April 19, 1881

Both Virgil and Morgan knew that Wyatt would be upset that they sworn into service but they would cross that bridge when it came. And when the time came to announce the law and hang up the posters, people were not happy and even started lighting torches and raising their guns. Morgan made sure you were close by and held onto the posters and nails as Virgil was nailing them into place and the town's people were right in front of you and Morgan, shouting and cursing at you all. "Hold on a minute! Wait a minute! Calm down and listen to me" Virgil said to get their attention and they all stopped shouting. "Nobody's sayin' you can't own a gun. Nobody's even sayin' you can't carry a gun. All were sayin' is you can't carry a gun in town".

The shouting resumed but Virgil and Morgan wouldn't back down. As people kept shouting, Wyatt had arrived and was not looking pleased, as was to be expected. "What in the hell are you doin'? I told you we weren't gettin' involved"!

"You got us involved when you brought us here" Virgil said and then walked back inside the Sheriff's office with Morgan having you be in front of him to guide you inside. "Now you hold on a minute, Virg" Wyatt said defensively.

"Hold on nothin'" Virgil said in a defensive tone also. Morgan had you stand next to him. "I walk around this town and look these people in the eyes, it's just like someone's slappin' me in the face. These people are afraid to walk down the street and I'm tryin' to make money of that like some goddamn vulture! If we're gonna have a future in this town, it's gotta have some law and order"!

"Please, Virg, don't do this to me"!

"It's got nothin' to do with you, Wyatt! It's got to do wi-"

"Nothin' to do with me!? I'm your brother for christs sake! God, I don't believe this"! Wyatt then turned his attention to Morgan. "Talk to him, will ya? Or hit him"! Morgan wouldn't and lifted his coat flap back to reveal a badge. "Ah God, don't tell me"!

"Like you said, Wyatt, we're brothers. Gotta back your brothers play. Just did like I figured you would". Wyatt couldn't believe this and looked at you. You only looked down and away from his gaze. "All right now, you listen to me, all of ya"! Wyatt then slammed the door shut and making you get behind Morgan. "For the first time in our lives, we got a chance to stop wandering and finally be a family. Now, this is trouble we don't need. You saw what happened to Fred White and how badly it messed her up" Wyatt said gesturing to you at the end of his sentence.

"We know what we're doin', Wyatt" Morgan said.

"Okay, fine. Say you're right, say you don't get yourself killed. There's somethin' else". Wyatt then brought up a fact he hated to think about. "All those years I worked those cow towns, I was only ever mixed up in one shootin'. Just one. But a man lost his life and I took it. You don't know how that feels, Morgan. Believe me, boy, you don't ever wanna know. Not ever". Both Virgil and Morgan stood stone faced and still didn't back down from their position. "Didn't even make a dent, did I"? Virgil and Morgan didn't respond and Wyatt knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with them. "Alright". Wyatt then took his gun belt off and shoved them into Virgils hands. "You're both makin' a big mistake".

Wyatt then marched out of the office and rode off back to the cottages. "Does this mean I don't get taught how to shoot a gun anymore" you asked nervously since they were fuming about what just happened. "No. I'm sure Doc will still teach you, but not here" Virgil said.

"I think you should head back to the cottages, (y/n)" Morgan suggested.

"I can't" you said quickly. "There's too many people out there and I can't deal with that right now".

"Alright, come on. I'll take you back" Morgan said. He knew the people outside would probably scream at you and he was well aware that you wouldn't be able to handle that. Virgil said he would continue with the posters and that Morgan would just take you to his cottage instead since Wyatt would probably talk your ear off and bother you. Of course, as you and Morgan walked outside, people continued shouting at you and Morgan guided you to Sylvie who was still awaiting for you. "Good girl" you said quietly.

As you and Morgan got on your horses, people were still shouting but they moved out of the way and you both raced off back to the cottages. Morgan could see you were exhausted and went ahead to let you crash on the couch in his cottage. You said goodnight to him and Lousia and went to bed. It was safe but also tragic to say that you were probably stuck here forever but you knew that the Earp brothers and their wives and Doc Holliday were your besties and that was a huge relief.

You were grateful but afraid of what the future held in store for you but knew that as long as they were by your side, you would be safe no matter what.

#will add more tags later

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famousnerdtragedy · 5 months ago

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Bella Hart’s Reckoning

In the rugged and unforgiving expanse of the Wild West, Bella Hart emerged as a figure of both awe and mystery. Her arrival in Tombstone—a town rife with lawlessness and intrigue—was marked by a blend of anticipation and trepidation. Known for her unparalleled skill with a pistol and an unshakable spirit, Bella quickly captured the attention of two of the most notorious figures in the region: Curly Bill Brocius and Johnny Ringo.

Curly Bill, the flamboyant and audacious leader of the Cowboys, was the first to approach Bella. His reputation for wild ambition and brazen disregard for the law made him a force to be reckoned with. One evening, Curly Bill, always seeking to expand his influence, found Bella at the Longhorn Saloon, where she sat alone, savoring her whiskey and the solitude of the moment.

“Bella Hart,” Curly Bill greeted her with a grin that barely concealed his calculating intent. “Word is you’re one of the best around. How about joining forces? I could use someone with your skills to help me run this town.”

Bella met his gaze with a steady, measured look. “I don’t align myself with anyone’s cause, Curly Bill. I’m here for my own reasons.”

Curly Bill’s offer was met with a polite but firm refusal. Undeterred, he retreated with the promise of future encounters, convinced that he could sway her to his side eventually.

Johnny Ringo, a more reserved yet equally formidable figure, soon took an interest in Bella. Known for his sharp intellect and keen sense of strategy, Ringo approached Bella with a different angle. Unlike Curly Bill, Ringo’s approach was subtle and nuanced, reflecting his desire to appeal to Bella’s sense of independence rather than her greed.

One afternoon, as Bella walked through the dusty streets of Tombstone, she encountered Ringo. His eyes, sharp and calculating, fixed on her with an intensity that spoke of his interest.

“Bella,” Ringo began, his voice smooth and measured, “I’ve heard much about your talents. I’m not here to offer gold or power but rather an opportunity. Join me, and you can carve out a legacy of your own making. Together, we can achieve something significant.”

Bella’s expression remained inscrutable. “Why would I consider joining you, Johnny Ringo? I’m not looking for alliances.”

Ringo’s smile was faint but sincere. “Because you deserve more than just surviving. I offer you the chance to make a name for yourself, free from the constraints of others.”

Despite the allure of his offer, Bella Hart remained steadfast. She was not interested in aligning with anyone, whether Curly Bill or Ringo. Her focus was on her own goals, and she navigated the challenges of Tombstone with a blend of cunning and skill.

Over time, Bella’s presence became a symbol of defiance in a town dominated by the Cowboys. Her refusal to be swayed by either Curly Bill’s bold promises or Ringo’s subtle appeals only enhanced her reputation. Bella’s interactions with both men were characterized by a careful balance of respect and distance, as she continued to carve out her own path.

The story of Bella Hart reached its resolution not through a dramatic clash of rivalries but through her quiet and decisive exit from Tombstone. Recognizing that her presence had stirred enough interest and that her involvement in the town’s power dynamics could lead to unforeseen complications, Bella chose to leave rather than become entangled in the struggles of others.

As she rode out of Tombstone, the setting sun casting long shadows over the desert landscape, Bella Hart’s silhouette was a testament to her unwavering independence and strength. Her legacy lived on, not as a pawn in the games of Curly Bill or Johnny Ringo but as a symbol of a woman who forged her own destiny in the untamed Wild West.

#original character #x reader #fantasy #tombstone #movie #wild west #western #x fem!reader #x female reader

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filmtv2022 · 2 years ago

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To the Bitter End: Chapter 15 (FINAL CHAPTER)

18+ Minors Do Not Proceed

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Pairing: Doc Holliday x Earp!Reader

Chapter Notes: Doc & Y/N finally reunite, and together they embark on the next leg of their journey together.

Story Summary: The youngest Earp sibling joins her older brothers in Tombstone with the hope that the new climate will ease her consumption/tuberculosis symptoms and reconnect her family. But as she settles into this new life, will she find something worth living for? Someone who can tame the loneliness?

Warnings: Illness and death (It's really sad y'all... just know you've been warned)

A/N: The Italics sections are from Doc/Wyatt’s perspectives. The timeline shifts a bit here so we are sort of looking back at things that have happened in the recent past.

-------------------------

In the distance, Wyatt could see a horse riding hard and fast toward the Hooker cottage. There was something dragging behind the horse in the grass, but from this distance, it was impossible to tell what it was. The man on the horse turned to cut the rope behind him loose before settling on top of a nearby hill. Wyatt and the others rushed out to see what was left by the mysterious rider.

As they approached the smell of decaying flesh rolled into their noses. The sight of a man’s mutilated body in the dirt before them caused several of the men to dry-heave.

“They got McMasters!”

The mysterious rider circled back around to deliver a message to Wyatt.

“Ringo wanted to make sure he got your attention, Marshall! He wants a straight-up fight, just you and him. To settle this thing once and for all. Oak Grove at the mouth of Silver Spring Canyon, 7:00!”

“You tell him I’ll be there! I’ll be there!”

…

Wyatt stood at the window of Doc’s room, staring out at the soon setting sun as he spoke.

“I spent my whole life not knowin’ what I wanted outta life, just chasin’ my tail. Now for the first time, I know exactly what I want. And who. And that’s the damnable misery of it.”

Walking to the end of the bed Wyatt continued to pour his thoughts out to Doc who was laying with his hand folded neatly on his chest, taking in the sight of his friend.

“What makes a man like Ringo, Doc? What makes him do the things he does?

“A man like Ringo… got a great empty hole right through the middle of him. He can never kill enough or steal enough… or inflict enough pain to ever fill it. “

“What does he need?”

“Revenge”

“For what?”

“Bein’ born.”

Finally, Wyatt turned back to Doc, staring him hard in the face as he processed what his friend had just said. Making his way to the bed, Wyatt sat on the edge next to John.

“It all happened so fast with Curly Bill. I didn’t really have time to think about it. But I’ve had plenty of time to think about this… I can’t beat him, can I?”

“No”

Nodding his head Wyatt turned to stand from the bed.

“Wait… I’m goin’ with ya” Doc tried to stand, but a violent set of coughs threw him back into bed. His breath wheezed as he spoke, “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Wyatt.”

“It’s all right”.

“What’s it like to wear one of those?” Doc gestured with his hand to the Marshall badge attached to Wyatt’s lapel. Without hesitation, Wyatt unpinned it from himself and tucked it into John’s palm. Moving away from the bed Wyatt made his way out of the cottage and to his horse, it was now or never. Wyatt knew he was likely riding to his own demise, but he tried hard to push those thoughts from his mind so as to not let them cloud his judgement.

….

Back in the room, Doc waited until the sound of hoofbeats had faded into the distance before sitting up and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. Methodically, John readied himself. First, he slipped on his trousers, buttoning the front, and adjusting them on his hips. Next, he grabbed a dry shirt, pulling it on and tucking it into his pants. His holster and guns were the next pieces to be added to his body. Each pistol was given a once over before being slotted into its rightful place. Doc grabbed for his boots next, pulling each one on with care. A long dark coat and hat were donned to help disguise his features should he run into anyone along the way. And last, but not least, John pinned the Marshall’s badge to his shirt. If he was going to fight one last time, at least this one would be legal.

Just as Doc’s hand pulled at the door handle, a vision of you played through his mind causing him to think twice about his actions. He knew that doing this could tear him away from you forever, bringing you unspeakable pain in the process. But he knew if he didn’t, he’d still be bringing you pain by not protecting Wyatt. If he didn’t go he was ensuring your brother’s death. And while he knew part of you’d hate him for risking his own life, he was willing to accept that, he couldn’t bear the thought of you losing another sibling.

…

Through the trees, Doc could see Ringo leaning against a large oak tree. Slowly, he made his way through the shadow towards the man. It was clear by the way Ringo spoke that he didn’t realize who was approaching.

“Well! I didn’t think ya had it in you.” Pushing himself from the tree, he sauntered in John’s direction.

“I’m your huckleberry- ” The words froze Ringo in place. “Why Johnny Ringo, you look like somebody just walked over your grave.”

“Fight’s not with you, Holliday.”

“I beg to differ, sir. We started a game we never got to finish-” a quick cough cleared Doc’s throat before he continued, “Play for blood, remember?” John pulled a drag from his cigarette as waited for Ringo’s response.

“I was just foolin’ about.”

“I wasn’t. And this time, it’s legal ” A nasty smirk painted John’s face as he watched Ringo fight to push his fear down as the man’s eye caught sight of the Marshall pin on Doc’s chest.

“All right, lunger. Let’s do it.”

The two men began to circle one another, each searching for signs that the other was making a move.

“Say when.”

Ringo’s hand slowly slid up his side, hovering over his pistol. But before the cowboy could even contemplate grabbing the weapon, Doc had unholstered his gun, firing a quick shot at Ringo. The bullet hit true, piercing the man’s skull. John twirled the weapon before placing it back on his hip. Ringo stumbled forward, wet sounds erupted from his throat as he reached for Doc.

“Come on. Come on!” Curling his fingers, John gestured for Ringo to keep coming at him.

“Oh, Johnny, come on!”

Ringo’s grunts and coughs continued as he struggled against his fatal wound. His gun, now in his hand, fired directly into the ground.

“You’re no daisy. You’re no daisy at all!”

At last, Johnny Ringo crashed to the ground, falling on his back at the base of the oak tree he’d leaned upon earlier.

“Poor soul. You were just too high-strung.” Doc removed the badge and placed it on Ringo’s chest. The sound of rushed footsteps approaching from behind had John reaching for his pistol.

Wyatt came into view with his own weapon drawn. Standing Doc explained what had happened, “I’m afraid the strain was more than he could bear.”

Wyatt gave Doc a shocked look, surprised not only to see Ringo dead but to see his friend upright and out of bed.

“Oh, I wasn’t quite as sick as I made out”

Wyatt bent down as he spoke, “Good God.” He pulled the badge from the dead man’s chest, holding it for Doc to see.

“My hypocrisy only goes so far.”

“All right. Let’s finish it.”

“Indeed, sir. The last charge of Wyatt Earp and his immortals.”

------------------------------

You weren’t sure how or when you’d made it back to your bed, but the feeling of cotton rubbing against your skin told you where you were even before your eyes opened. Allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim morning light of the room, you scanned the space taking in the sounds of people moving about in the house as you did so. This morning your body felt marginally stronger than it had in days, and you decided to take advantage of the newfound energy. Sitting up slowly you held onto the bedpost to help you hoist yourself from the mattress. Your housecoat hung on the coat rack next to the bed, grabbing it you pulled the soft fabric around your body as you shuffled in small steps towards the door.

The smell of freshly made eggs wafted in your direction as you cracked the door open. The sound of it moving in its hinges caused everyone’s head to turn towards you. At the table sat Virgil, Allie, Louisa, Mattie, and the nurse. Victoria. You flashed them a small smile as you continued your slow amble to the table. Seeing your legs were still shaky, Virgil stood to help guide you to the empty seat at the table.

Sitting down, you took a minute to observe the people around you. Your family members all shared the same dark circles under their eyes, clearly, they hadn’t managed to get a good night of sleep. You felt guilty for a moment as the realization hit that you were likely part of the reason for their sleepless nights.

Coming up behind you Virgil sat a small plate of food in front of you along with a steaming cup of coffee.

“Thanks, Virg.” You reached for the silverware finding it a bit of a struggle to hold the utensil still as you stabbed at a bite of egg. The food burned on the way down your throat, not because of heat, but because the tender flesh of your esophagus was raw from your near-constant coughing. The coffee smelled wonderful, but you thought better of picking it up. The last thing you wanted was to add burns to your list of ailments.

The six of you ate quietly for several minutes before you felt the flash of pain thrum through your chest. The pain was quickly followed by the all too familiar squeeze of lung spams. The force of the spams crumpled you in your seat, small droplets of blood dripped onto the plate of food in front of you. Virgil moved like lightning to your side, he reached out to help you stand as the fit continued to rack your body. He would have given anything to pick you up and move you back to the bed, but his damned arm kept him from doing so. The pair of you stumbled back into the bedroom, your body all but falling into the mattress when you were close enough. Finally, after what felt like hours, your body began to relax again. Your lungs settling enough to let you get in a few deeper breaths. Staring at the ceiling you could hear Virgil shift a chair so that he could sit next to the bed without having to move you.

“Y/N, we need to talk” Virgil’s voice was somber and resigned, you knew what was coming next, and yet it didn’t stop the emotions.

“I know, it's time-” you paused to collect yourself slightly before resuming, “It’s just… are you sure we can’t wait for them a little bit longer?”

Virgil’s lack of response was answer enough.

“Just promise me this Virg. Promise me you’ll bring him to me as soon as you can? And… if… promise me you’ll put us to rest together.”

“Of course, I promise you Y/N, I’ll make sure the world will always know how much you loved…love each other.”

Screwing your eyes shut, tears began to pour as you listened to Virgil leave to talk with Victoria. You could hear Allie, Louisa, and Mattie packing up your belongings. No conversation passed between them, but everyone once in a while one of them would press a gentle kiss to your temple.

As each one finished their task within the room they came to your bed, and whispered what would likely be their final goodbyes to you. You watched unsurprised as Mattie high-tailed it out of the room after she finished packing your jewelry away. Allie was the first to speak to you, her soft voice cracked with emotion as she spoke, “Y/N, I am so blessed to call you my sister. I’ll love you forever my sweet girl.” You could barely speak, the muscles of your throat tense with emotion. Allie clearly wasn’t ready to leave yet as she sank into the seat Virgil had used earlier.

“Virgil is so blessed to have you, Allie.Thanks for loving him. A girl couldn’t ask for a better sister.”

Louisa’s small frame pressed into the empty space next to you on the other side of the bed. Her gentle fingers brushed your hair out of your face as she looked deeply into your eyes. She had begun to shake her head ‘no’ as she struggled to find the right words.

“I don’t know what to say Y/N. Having you in my life has been the most wonderful thing. I thank God every day for the time I got to spend with you and Morgan.”

“He loved you so much, Louisa. And god, we were the lucky ones, to get to have you in our lives.”

The three of you sat in silence as you cried. It wasn’t until you heard the door creak again that you realized Mattie had come back into the room.

“Ladies, would it be possible for me to have a minute alone with Y/N?” Louisa and Allie both looked to you to see if this was okay, you nodded your head in affirmation.

Once the others were out of the room, Mattie sat down in the chair next to the bed. She didn’t speak, instead, she sat staring at her hands. It was clear she was struggling with something.

“It’s okay, Mattie. You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s not okay Y/N. I’ve been thinkin’ about this a lot since we left Tombstone, and I need to apologize.”

Not wanting to run her off you waited with great patience as she tumbled the words she wanted to say through her mind one more time.

“Y/N, I’ve been terrible to you since we met. And honestly, I have no good reason for my actions. Your illness terrifies me, but that’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated you. I think it was easier to blame you for the problems between me and Wyatt than it was to accept the fact that he and I were never destined for a long and happy life together. And to see you with Doc, it only made me resent you more. The love you two have, that’s the kind of love every person hopes to find, and it burned me to know that I didn’t have it. Y/N, I am so deeply sorry. Seeing you face down this illness with such strength and grace has shown me just how weak I really am, and god, I wish I could find a way to make myself into half the woman you are, but I’ll never be that. I’ll always just be the addict who found herself a man that could never truly love her back. Your brother is a wonderful person, and I know I’ve hurt him too with the drugs and the way I’ve treated you. If I could take it all back, I would, in heartbeat, but I can’t. So, for what it’s worth coming from me, I’m truly sorry Y/N. You never deserved the cards you’ve been dealt in life, and I am sorry for throwing more obstacles in your way. I understand if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive, but I couldn’t let you leave here without at least hearing these words.”

You were stunned, to say the least. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined hearing those words from Mattie. Part of you instinctually wanted to push her aside, as you’d never before been able to believe a word that came out of her mouth. But this was different, and you could sense it in the way she spoke. These words were truthful, perhaps the most honest thing Mattie had ever spoken.

“I forgive you, Mattie.” The simple words brought heaving sobs from the blonde woman sitting beside you. Her hands reached out to clutch yours as she let herself give into the remorse coursing through her.

It was only Virgil’s arrival at your door that ended the embrace. Mattie stood at the sound of your brother coming into the room.

“It’s time Y/N girl.”

“Alright. I’m ready.”

The two of you made your way to the carriage that sat out front. Your bags had already been neatly packed inside. As the driver snapped the reins you smiled and waved at the women standing on the porch. They waved back, you could read the sadness in their bodies. Their shoulders slumped as they watched you ride away. You wished they could come with you, but a sanitorium was no place for them to see. Virgil sat beside you holding your hand as you continued to let the tears fall from your eyes.

-------------------------

The trip into Glenwood beat your body to hell, every bump in the road sent shockwaves of pain through your bones. And the intake process only furthered your exhaustion. By the time you were wheeled to bed your body was ready to give out. A pair of doctors helped lift you into bed, and pulled the covers over you before they walked away.

“Y/N, I’m not going anywhere yet, but the doctors want to talk with me in their office. Is that okay?”

“Yes, it’s okay Virg. I’m not going anywhere yet either.” You huffed a small laugh at your own joke. Virgil shook his head at you as he pulled the privacy curtain shut around your bed.

----------------------------

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by, but a sudden influx of voices moving past your bed caught your attention, dragging you from your sleeping state.

Turning on your side you saw that another bed had been moved flush with yours. The head and footboards attached firmly together so as to prevent the mattress from slipping apart. But more importantly, laying next to you in his beautiful maroon robe was John. His eyes were closed, but you could hear the whistle of his breathing. Mustering every ounce of energy you had, you slid yourself closer to your husband. Someone had placed a blanket over the top of both of you, allowing you to share the same space fully without any obstacles. Once you were flush with his side you allowed your legs to tangle with his, and your arm to stretch across his chest. The feeling of his warm body next to yours was comforting in a way that could never be fully explained. And there you stayed for the remainder of the night. Occasionally, you would wake to the sound of a nurse coming to check on you both, but that was perfectly okay with you. You had John back in your arms, and for the time being, everything was right with the world.

-------------------

The feeling of John running his hand along your arm woke you the next morning as dim sunlight streamed through the windows. Tipping his head down, Doc pressed his lips to your crown, inhaling the scent of you. Threading your fingers with his, you brought his hand to your lips, placing delicate kisses on each knuckle.

“Goodmorning, Mr. Holliday.”

“Goodmorning, Mrs. Holliday.”

“You made it back”

“Just like I promised, darlin’ ”

The two of you shared a deep unspoken need to be near one another, and even though little space existed between yourselves, you sought to close the remaining distance. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, relishing every needy sound that poured from your bodies, as you turned to capture his lips with yours. You tried to keep your wits about you, being that only a curtain separated you from the rest of the room. It had only been a handful of weeks, but the time away had felt like centuries. No amount of time in each other’s embrace was ever going to be enough, but you were grateful for every second you were given. Too soon for your liking, a nurse came to check on you both during their morning rounds.

Being an intelligent woman, the nurse cleared her throat loudly before pulling back the curtain, and entering your space, giving you each time to situate yourself with a touch more modesty. Though modesty was relative, John’s hand still rested on your breast as the nurse greeted you both.

“Morning all, I was just stopping by to check in and deliver some food for you both. Oh, also, Wyatt says he will be stopping by later to pay you both a visit.”

Setting the tray of food down on the cart next to the bed, the woman began the slow process of helping both you and Doc into a sitting position before wheeling the cart next to the bed and swinging the arm out over you so that the food was within reach.

“I’ll be back later for the trays, enjoy.”

Now that you were seated your eyes fell on John’s profile. It was simultaneously disquieting and comforting to see his illness painted so clearly across his beautiful features. Tucking your heels to the back of your thighs, you twisted to allow your side to press into Doc. His arm came to rest along the back of your shoulders holding you tight to his body yet again. With his opposite hand, he picked up the spoon in front of him, dipping it into the oatmeal on the tray, his hand shaking as he brought the utensil to his mouth. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed the food.

With just a single bite consumed, John placed the spoon back down on the tray, a small clink accompanied the movement. His hand, now free, reached for yours, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. The tender moment was cut short by a searing bout of coughing that tore through your body. John tried desperately to hold you still as you rode it out, the action sapping him of his own small reserve of energy.

Panting, you let your body slump against John, as the sounds of fellow dying people murmured through the room.

“What do you think they would’ve been like…our children?” Your voice was timid and tired.

Blowing a small huff of air out of his nose, Doc took a moment before responding, “They would have been the most wonderful little hellions to grace the earth… and I can tell you one thing for certain, our daughter would’ve been the most tenacious and beautiful soul. With a true propensity for speaking her mind.”

“She'd of had you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Just like her mother in every way.”

The two of you shared a small laugh at the thought of Doc waiting on your daughter hand-and-foot.

“And our son?” It was John who asked the question this time.

“Hmm, he would’ve been so deeply kind, courageous, and loyal, like his father.-” You took a look at John’s face as he contemplated what you’d said, conflict touched his features mixing the emotions together. You continued on, this time bringing a touch of humor to the table, “But I fear your lack of self-preservation would have rubbed off on both our children.”

Laughter came a bit stronger this time as John quipped back, “Now admit it darlin’, you didn’t disagree with hellion as a fitting term for our children.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I did sell my soul to the devil after all.” Leaning up you kissed him lightly before settling back into his side, his fingers spinning the ring on your hand. The conversation fell quiet for several minutes, both of you lost in deep thought.

John broke the barrier again with his confession, “Before you, I never could have imagined having a family of my own, and now, it burns me that I’ll never get to experience it with you. I’ll never get to see you round with my child. That I’ll never get to hold our babies in my arms… that might be the cruelest thing of it all.”

“You would have been the most wonderful father John.”

“Y/N, our children would have been blessed beyond measure to have you as their mother.”

Leaning down Doc brushed your lips together, your noses bumping gently before he pressed himself to you. The kiss deepened as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring the taste of you. His hands found their way into your hair, gripping the soft strands tightly as he struggled to keep his breathing steady. No matter his desire, John’s body finally lost the battle to stay connected to you. His lungs gave a great heave, sending a new layer of sweat to the surface. With a groan Doc fell back against his pillows, trying to shield you from his agony, but you wouldn’t let him. Instead, you held him tight, drawing comforting shapes on his shoulders as he rode the wave. As his body calmed, you helped him slide down onto the bed, tucking yourself into his side.

Time moved slowly in the ward, the sound of the hospital echoed through the space, creating a dreadful symphony of death and grieving, which you tried vigorously to ignore. Your focus was trained on Doc as he slept, your own body exhausted to the point where sleep was not an option unless brought about by a fainting spell. You weren’t sure exactly what brought the idea to mind, but for the first time in a long time, you truly prayed, begging God to hear you, to cast pity on you and John despite your life choices. You may have been shouting into a void, but the idea of someone higher than yourself listening brought a semblance of peace to you for the time being.

The sky was growing dim when John woke again. A different nurse came by to deliver dinner, and help the pair of you adjust your seating. The nurse had only been gone a few minutes when a hand yanked the curtain back with a bit too much vigor.

“How ya feeling Y/N? Doc?” Wyatt’s bright voice was a tad too cheerful for the space.

The chair Wyatt had moved to the bedside screeched loudly on the floor as he adjusted its position, speaking again once he was settled.

“So, Doc, how ‘bout a game of poker?”

“You sure about that Wyatt? I mean takin’ money from a dying man… that sounds like a questionable endeavor at best.” You couldn’t help, but laugh at the look your brother gave you, it was one of incredulity and happiness.

“You wound me Y/N. I may be shaking hands with the reaper, but I’ll be damned if I deny Wyatt the opportunity to have his pockets emptied by me one more time. Deal me in Earp!”

“Now that’s more like it! Oh, and it wouldn’t be a game without something to drink!” Wyatt secretively pulled a bottle of Old Overholt Rye from his coat, a trio of cups appearing from the other.

“A game indeed. Wyatt, you are a brilliant man.” John’s southern drawl was thick as he admired his friend’s eagerness.

All you could do was shake your head and accept the cup of whiskey from your brother. Wyatt and Doc fell into an easy rapport as the cards were dealt. You loved seeing the two of them like this, light and carefree. It wasn’t often that the two of them had the chance to just enjoy each other’s company. Rationally, you knew that even this visit wasn’t simple, but it felt unencumbered, and you’d take the false sense of safety for however long it lasted.

---------------

The next several days passed in the same manner. You and John wrapped in each other’s arms, allowing yourselves to indulge in your physical desires in every way your ailing bodies would allow. The quiet moments in between spent sharing your thoughts about a future together that would never be. Wyatt always joined you in the evenings after dinner to play poker with John. Even in this state Doc was obviously the better player. Virgil visited you as well, never staying for very long, but making sure you knew how much he loved you before he left. Having your family’s support should have been nothing but positive. However, in truth, it pained you to have them near as you continued down a steady decline. Each time they showed up it ripped the wound in your heart open fresh, and the agony was simply too much. You knew it was probably wrong, but you didn’t want them to see you die, you couldn’t add that to the list of traumatic memories. The only person who you felt safe hurting at this juncture was John because it was mutually assured destruction, one could not go on without the other.

……..

“John?” Your feeble voice blew over his chest as your cheek was pressed into the crook of his shoulder.

“Yes darlin’ ”

“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t see my brothers come in here day after day, and watch their faces sink as I fade away. I just can’t do it anymore.” Your nose prickled with the feeling of holding back tears.

“What can I do Y/N?”

“Will you talk to Wyatt for me?”

“Of course darlin’ ” He knew what you were asking without your needing to express it fully. Even as his time here grew shorter, John Henry Holliday would do anything to ease your pain.

------------------

One night after a particularly rough day, Doc asked Wyatt to stay for a minute so they could talk. John believed you had fallen asleep on his chest, but in reality, you were simply just too exhausted to hold your eyes open, your ears were still attuned to the conversation around you.

“Wyatt, you are my best friend, and I am forever grateful for that. But, I’m asking this favor of you, please say your goodbyes and don’t come back.”

The look on Wyatt’s face was crushing. Doc knew what he was asking was going to feel impossible for Wyatt, but he had promised you he’d do what he could.

“I know what I’m asking feels wrong, like it’s going against everything in you, but I need you to listen to me. Seeing you, seeing Virgil, it causes her pain. She loves you both dearly, but the grief in your eyes is too much for her.”

“But Doc, I can’t just walk away… not now.”

“I know you think you can’t, but you can.”

“Doc, that’s-”

“Just think about it Wyatt, okay?”

“Alright Doc, I will.”

You could feel John’s body move as Wyatt patted his friend’s shoulder before stooping down to place a kiss on your head.

….

The date on the calendar next to the bed read November 8, 1877. The nurses had been using the pad to keep track of your meals, consuming food had become nearly impossible for both you and John. The previous night had been torturous, your body convulsing as your muscles contracted involuntarily. Your lungs felt full as if you were drowning on dry land. Sweat poured from your skin, soaking everything you touched. The world around you slipped in and out of focus, your only anchor point being the familiar sensation of John by your side. John was no better off. He too was tumbling into the abyss as pain clouded his mind. The fluid in his lungs was enough to make his breathing a wet gurglet. His coughs were unlike anything you’d heard before, the sound genuinely terrifying. His damp skin white hot with fever. The pressure of your body clinging to his was his only reminder of reality. Speaking was a struggle, so you both relied on gentle touches to communicate with one another. John lightly traced the back of your hand as it rested on his chest, while you rubbed a figure eight on the chest of his chest.

You weren’t sure what time it was, but the zing of metal on metal clanked in your ears as someone pulled back the curtain. Both you and John opened your eyes, working to focus on the person standing next to your bed. It was a priest, dressed in his church attire, a Bible clutched in his hand as he looked down at your both.

His voice was shockingly kind as he spoke, “Mr. and Mrs. Holliday, I’m Father Feeney. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind me reading a bit to you as you rest.”

It was Doc that spoke up, his voice cracking with first use, “You’re already here, so go on then.” Both of you closed your eyes, choosing to conserve the energy.

Father Feeney opened his Bible, the thin pages swooshing as the turned them. His voice possessed a soothing tone as he spoke. The man stayed for a while, mostly reading, but occasionally asking questions. There was no judgment in his face as he listened to the pair of you speak. After some time, Father Feeney turned to leave, but not before praying for God to guide your spirits to Him. The gesture felt both ominous and comforting.

In the distance you could hear heavy footsteps on the floor approaching your bed, they paused for a few seconds before resuming. The sound of a chair being pulled to the side of the bed told you that it was Wyatt who had come to visit. Doc’s eyes opened to look over at his friend.

“Hello, Wyatt. Father Feeney and I were just… investigating the mysteries of the Church of Rome. It appears my hypocrisy knows no bounds.”

“You’re no hypocrite, Doc. You just like to sound like one. Brought you something.” Wyatt tucked a small paperback book under your hand which rested on John’s chest, his larger palm covering your own.

“Well, let’s see, where are we today? I’m $17 down to ya. Two bits a hand. Stud?” Wyatt dug out a paper he’d been keeping track of his debt on as he spoke. You could feel John’s body tense as he listened to his friend.

“You keep comin’ back here. I told you not to and I meant it.”

“You’re the only person I can afford to lose to anymore. How we feeling today Doc? Y/N?” Your eyes had opened during the last bit of the exchange easing Wyatt’s fears just a touch.

“We’re dying. How are you?” Your voice strained with effort as you spoke, each word raspy as your lungs fought against the ache.

“Pretty much the same.”

“So now we add self-pity to our list of frailties.” Doc’s quip harsher than he intended.

“All right, Doc. All right, how many cards you want?”

A small pause hung in the air before John spoke again.

“I don’t want to play anymore.”

“How many?”

“Damn you. You’re the most fallible, stubborn, self-deluded, bullheaded man I’ve ever known in my entire life.”

“I call.” Wyatt grabbed the cards he’d placed in Doc’s hands, checking to see the outcome.

“You win.”

“Yet with all, you and Y/N are the only human beings in my entire life who ever gave me hope.”

Wyatt’s head dropped lower to his chest, his eyes trained on the floor.

“I knew from the moment I met your sister that she was the one, the only thing I’d ever truly want”

“That’s good Doc.” The words felt too intimate for Wyatt, but he didn’t have the heart to stop his friend.

“And when you asked me to join you that night at the Bird Cage, I had no idea how much life would change in the matter of a few hours. She’s all I’ve ever wanted Wyatt, thank you for helping bring her back to me.”

Wyatt didn’t have the words, he just nodded his head and reached for your hand.

“John stole the words from my mouth. Thank you Wyatt for bringing him back to me. And thank you for loving me, I know it wasn’t easy. I love you, Wyatt.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

“What do you want Wyatt?” Your question threw your brother off guard.

“Just to live a normal life.”

“There’s no normal life Wyatt. There’s just life. Now get on with it.”

“Don’t know how.”

“Sure you do. Say good bye. Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty and run, don’t look back.”

“Live every second right up to the hilt. Live Wyatt.” John’s voice joined yours as he added his own parting advice.

“Live for us, Wyatt.” Your eyes brimmed with wetness as you noticed the rim of tears forming in Wyatt’s eyes. John could feel your heartbeat slowing as, your grip on his body grew weak, your breathing already haphazard. John knew it was time for Wyatt to leave.

“Wyatt, if you ever were my friend, if you ever had even the slightest feelin’ for me, leave now… leave now. Please?”

Tears rolled down John’s face as he pleaded with his friend. He felt his own body falter as he watched Wyatt stand from his chair to wrap you in a final embrace. Wyatt’s gentle hands rested on your body as his lips found a home on your temple. He’d never be ready to let you go, but he knew Doc was right, it was time.

“Thanks for always bein’ there Doc. An' thanks for keeping her safe, helping her find happiness again.”

John nodded somberly to Wyatt as he moved away from the bed, and stumbled away in a haze of grief.

Your breathing was irregular, and slow, long gaps of time lapsed between inhales. John’s own body was just behind yours. With what little strength John still possessed he pressed himself closer to you, his cheek resting on the top of your head. That’s when he remembered the book in your hand. Lifting your fingers with great care John took the gift from you, letting your palm rest flat on his chest.

Doc took a good look at the book Wyatt had given him, as he read the title his heart filled with contentment and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. The book cover read, “My Friend Doc Holliday by Wyatt Earp.”

John placed the book down next to him with reverence before holding your hand in his. Taking in the empty room around him, Doc’s eyes settled on his bare feet poking out from the edge of the blanket. The sight of himself without boots brought a silent chuckle to him. He’d envisioned his own death many times, but even he never truly believed that it would come to take him in this way… in bed, with the great love of his life held in his arms, finally at peace with the world. John felt your chest stop moving, your hand falling limp in his. With the one thing holding him here gone, Doc let himself self slip away. His parting words to you, spoken with his final breath.

“To the bitter end my darlin’, just like we promised. ”

The End

------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2

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Final Author's Note:

An enormous thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read this story. I cannot express how much your likes, comments, and reblogs have meant to me. I have felt so much love and support from you all, and it truly warms my heart. I didn't know what I was getting into when I posted this story, but I can't wait to write more. I am incredibly proud of myself for taking the plunge and sharing my first story. Thanks for sticking around & I hope you continue to check back in as more stories go up in the future.

#doc holliday x reader #doc holliday #tombstone 1993 #val kilmer

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queenlucythevaliant · 3 years ago

Note

Pride and Prejudice (2005) and/or Tombstone. I love hearing your opinions!

I'm going to begin with Tombstone; Pride and Prejudice under the cut :)

I love a good western, but it's Val Kilmer's Doc Holliday that really sets Tombstone apart. Probably my favorite moment can be viewed here, but I'll transcribe the exchange that really gets me below:

Ike Clanton: Listen now, Mr. Kansas-Law-Dog: law don't go 'round here, savvy?

Wyatt Earp, flatly: I'm retired.

Curly Bill: Good. That's real good. [...]

Johnny Ringo: And you must be Doc Holiday

Doc Holliday: That's the rumor

Ringo: You retired too?

Doc, visibly sweating and white as a sheet: Not me. I'm in my prime.

The rest of the scene (and, indeed, the whole movie) is well worth the watch, but this, this is Doc's thesis statement for this scene and throughout the movie. He's in his prime, in spite of the fact that he's got late-stage tuberculosis and is basically walking dead. He intends to prove it.

In this scene, we see Doc match Ringo in a contest of wits as they exchange several rounds of Latin epigrams. When Ringo draws on him and demonstrates his fancy gunslinging, Doc does the same with an empty cup. It's awesome.

As the movie progresses, Doc will prove repeatedly that he is intelligent, sharp, and highly skilled at everything he does. He's determined to be his best, and to show everyone around him just how extraordinary Doc Holliday at his best is, regardless of the fact that his lungs are slowly being shredded to bits in his chest. He's in his prime, even when he slows Wyatt's revenge party down later in the movie due to his illness. He proves it definitively, with more swagger and panache than anyone else.

Westerns are about American myth-making. The gunfight at the OK Corral is a towering part of the myth of the Old West. Yet I love how this movie portrays these semi-mythic figures in their humanity, without compromising on the myth.

Death is ugly in Tombstone--utterly un-glorious--but Wyatt Earp's revenge is mythic, complete with the epic threat, "So run, you cur, run! Tell all the other curs the law's comin'! You tell 'em I'm coming--and hell's coming with me!"

Sickness is ugly too. Doc Holliday spends the whole movie sweating and pale, falling over and coughing up blood. He needs to rest. He doesn't want to rest. Yet in spite of all that, he's mythic. Epic. He's dying, but he's in his prime.

There's something immensely powerful in that tension. Human, yet mythic. Frail, yet powerful. I love it very, very much.

I maintain that the 2005 Pride and Prejudice is the superior adaptation of the source material, even if it's not strictly the most faithful to the text of the book or the technicalities of the period. I got in multiple arguments with my professor on this point when I took and Austen and Bronte course.

The 2005 adaptation dials in close to the inner lives and messy relationships of its characters and never, never lets go. Elizabeth is intelligent and headstrong, yes, but the quiet moments of contemplation, reevaluation, sadness, and forgiveness are where the story of Pride and Prejudice really lives.

Austen wrote a profound intimacy between Elizabeth and Jane modeled after the intimacy she shared with her own sister. She wrote a father/daughter relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet that has so many layers to it: Lizzy is his favorite, the daughter who is most like him, yet he does wrong by his family as often as he does right. Elizabeth has a very clear-eyed view of her father, as much as she loves him. Ditto with her other sisters, and even her mother, who for all her silliness is actually desperate to ensure safe futures for her daughters. All of this is captured so beautifully in the 2005 version, while even the much-lauded Collin Firth adaptation tends to lose track of its characters' heartbeats, if that makes sense.

I could cite so many examples, but I think the sequence where Elizabeth returns home from Rosings is the best to demonstrate what I mean. Linked here.

Elizabeth and Jane discuss their respective trips. Neither is entirely honest with the other. Both are aware of this fact. They do not press each other. They are cautious and gentle with one another, but both look a little sad.

Kitty and Lydia and Mrs. Bennet are, yes, a little silly, but we understand them. Their motivations are clear. They are loud and a little obnoxious, but we feel Mrs. Bennet's fear, Lydia's desire to be important, Kitty's desire to be like Lydia.

Elizabeth and Jane discuss in an undertone while the others make a fuss. I love that.

The scene with Elizabeth and her father is absolutely flawless. We can see both sides, but we understand that Mr. Bennet does not know or care for his younger daughters as Lizzy does. "We shall have no peace until she goes," says Mr. Bennet. "Peace?" retorts Lizzy, "is that really all you care about?"

Mr. Bennet rather callously predicts that "[Lydia's] stay in Brighton will teach her her own insignificance." Elizabeth correctly predicts that Lydia is too easily led and will come into danger in Brighton and that Kitty will be in danger too out of her desire to be like Lydia. We see that she is right and her father is wrong. Yet it's also noteworthy that Lizzy and her father argue like equals. They take one another seriously and it's obvious that they care for and respect one another very deeply.

And then we get one of my favorite little scenes in the whole film: Elizabeth and Jane are lying in bed together in the dark of the night. The candle still burns.

Elizabeth, very softly and with a great deal of sadness: I saw Mr. Darcy when I was at Rosings.

Several beats of silence pass.

Jane, also speaking very softly: Why did you not tell me? Did he mention Mr. Bingley?

Elizabeth sighs

Elizabeth: No...

Another moment of silence. Lizzy rolls over and blows out the candle.

Elizabeth, in the now total darkness: No, he did not.

This is the heart and soul of the story. These two sisters, their difficult romances, secrets whispered late at night. Coming to understand one another. Coming to understand the men they love. Hoping against hope.

The transcendent beauty of the story of Pride and Prejudice is very simple: What if people are not what they seem? What if the man who was rude to you is good all the way down, and the handsome officer is a cad, and even your favorite sister has hidden depths? What if sometimes we get second chances at really seeing one another?

The 2005 adaptation captures this essence as well as I can imagine it ever being captured.

#ask me hard questions #thanks for these questions! I really enjoyed answering them #also thanks for being patient with me i know i took forever to answer

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introvertguide · 4 years ago

Text

American Outlaw Movie Heroes

Our current AFI movie is the tale of Bonnie and Clyde (1967), and re-watching it made me think of all the great movies with real bandits and outlaws as the main protagonists. I thought I would make some quick recommendations for some movies that the group might want to check out. A little bit of a spoiler warning since the lives of these criminals are the plots of the movies.

Dillinger (1945)

There was no such thing as a film biography at the time this movie was put out, but it was a gritty retelling of the news stories less than 10 years after the actual death of John Dillinger. It is the black-and-white, Old Hollywood version of an A&E Biography and an example of true crime re-enactment. The movie really moves covering all of the crimes from his first crime of convenience to pay for a dinner date to his last gunfight outside of a theater. A lot of blood and action is implied because of the Hays Code, but it is still a very good film.

Bonnie and Clyde (1967)

Trying not to spoil this one is a little difficult since the full review is in the works as mentioned above. The movie does follow the actual crimes of Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker from the time they first meet to the time of their death. The movie does dramatize the strained relationship of Bonnie and the rest of the gang as well as combining two Barrow Gang members into one character in the movie, but it seems to be otherwise pretty accurate. This is another film that was made relatively soon after the actual crime spree (about 30 years from death to the start of film production) giving the film a realistic feel.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

This is a film that was already reviewed by the group, but well worth a second watch (or more for that matter). It is the highly stylized and romanticized story of Butch Cassidy, Harry Longabaugh, and Etta Place. The film has long comedic montages as well as witty dialogue that would not have occurred at the time. It even has a pleasant little music video in the middle of the film for "Rain Drops Keep Fallin On My Head." The names, dates, and locations are very accurate, but dialogue is much more for fun. Very enjoyable film.

The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976)

This one doesn't completely count because it is not really a hard and fast true story, but it is a great movie and it is based on the story of a Confederate guerilla fighter named Bill Wilson. He was a man from Missouri who was associated with the Quantrill Raiders. Bill became known as "The Great Bushwacker" because he would ambush Union soldiers and sell the horses and supplies to the Confederates. He moved around Texas and Missouri with his Native American wife after the war and the movie basically speculates on the life of a Confederate Bushwacker after the end of the Civil War. It is a fun note that, in the film, some bar patrons that are covering for Josey Wales refer to him as Mr. Wilson.

Tombstone (1993)

Not so much the stories of outlaws, but instead the story of vengeful lawmen that acted like outlaws. It is the story of the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday versus Curly Bill Brocius and the Cowboys. The fighting between the two groups led to the very famous gunfight at the O.K. Corrall. It is the story of the escalating vengeance between outlaws and lawmen along the border of Mexico and the American Territories during the late 1800s. It is a great story based on written accounts from the time and a crime history during a time of lawlessness in the American West.

#Dillinger #Tombstone #Josey Wales #Butch Cassidy #Bonnie and Clyde #American criminals #true crime #introvert #introverts #American outlaw heroes #famous criminals

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tshirtfashiontrend · 6 years ago

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I confused, he could not hear me explain and said��Curly Bill Brocius Tombstone well bye retro tshirt. I married her not to let her die to teach with my mother. But I was very sad, I was in pain, how could I lie, maybe my neighbors knew, at 5 am. So I went to the market to buy things, cook porridge for me to take my children to go to work then go to work. In the afternoon, if many people only eat a piece of bread, they will cook rice in the afternoon and come to pick up their children. My family does not teach like my family. But even my mother taught me very carefully so my parents If my husband said anything, I would either be silent or receive a mistake about me, so I would be too sad to hide in the toilet. But now even my husband does not understand, I think for myself what to continue to do? Curly Bill Brocius Tombstone well bye retro shirt, hoodie, sweater and V-neck t-shirt

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lovediva013 · 6 years ago

Text

Curly Bill Brocius Tombstone well bye retro shirt

I confused, he could not hear me explain and said Curly Bill Brocius Tombstone well bye retro shirt. I married her not to let her die to teach with my mother. But I was very sad, I was in pain, how could I live, maybe my neighbors knew, at 5 am. So I went to the market to buy things, cook porridge for me to take my children to go to work then go to work. In the afternoon, if many people only eat a piece of bread, they will cook rice in the afternoon and come to pick up their children. My family does not teach like my family. But even my mother taught me very carefully so my parents If my husband said anything, I would either be silent or receive a mistake about me, so I would be too sad to hide in the toilet. But now even my husband does not understand, I think for myself what to continue to do? Curly Bill Brocius Tombstone well bye retro shirt, hoodie, sweater and V-neck t-shirt

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tshirtonline79-blog · 6 years ago

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curlysgirl0202 · 8 months ago

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My opinion is he probably was not bad...The biggest issue for me would be his breath, which probably wasn't the freshest since people didn't regularly brush their teeth and he liked whiskey and smoking cigars. In addition, he probably didn't make out that much. He relied on the world's oldest profession since women were scarce.

Because his mustache is well grown in, it would probably tickle your lip and if he can get a rise out of you, he'll start kissing your neck so he can tickle you and get you squealing.

Overall, he may need to learn a little about kissing and start becoming more aware of his not so fresh breath 🌟

#curly bill stories #curly bill tickling #tombstone movie #tombstone cowboys #stories about curly bill from tombstone #stories about tombstone characters #curly Bill stories

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storehottrend79-blog · 6 years ago

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shirttrendingstore-blog · 6 years ago

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tshirtfunny79-blog · 6 years ago

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cyberleaf69 · 6 years ago

Text

THEM WAS THE GOOD OLD DAYS

There's a fly buzzing around me, as I pen my tiny tale of woe. She came in yesterday, when it was warm enough to leave my door propped open all day long[JAN 8]. Today, the high temperature[and low] will be in the 50's, and the door is shut tight, and my heating-unit set on 78 degrees. Her buzzing sounds angry, because she cannot find a way out. She also cannot find anything in here that smells dead, to lay her eggs on[it has been so pleasant, weatherwise, this entire past week, that I didn't wear any socks][my two-pair of dirty unders are apparently unsuitable][that is what KANDY thought too].

I long for those good old days[a frequent pastime & source for many a STORY], before folks had contracts with pest-control services. Back them days, it was strictly hand-to-hand combat,

and windows and doors weren't sealed against invaders, quite as effectively[remember putting a blanket or towel at the front door, to keep Jack Frost on the other side?]. First line of defense was a can of RAID[advertised on black&white TV-screens about the size of the full-color LED-display on your SmartPhone, using animated spray cans with biceps, and cocky-roaches that couldn't get away fast enough, ending up supine, with X's for eyes,

or shown beneath tombstones with humorous inscriptions]. Then, HotShot came along, and them cocky-roaches quit even trying to run off! Both products belched out streams of toxic aerosol, and left oily residue on everything in your house.

Even in those wonderful 1950's, it was them old folks[and country folk still without TV] that had got things figured out. At the corner store, they had curly streamers, thumb-tacked to the ceiling somehow, dangling down with swell-scented adhesives on the brown paper strip. You could see how good they worked, and little boys like me, sometimes counted them fly-bodies out loud for them lady-shoppers in the store. On a good day, you'd spy one that just got stuck up there; hear her buzzing in anger too, or wiggling whatever parts that weren't stuck good yet!

But trappin's for lazy folks, or for busy store-owners cuttin' pork chops, or ringin' up sales on a register, what was hand-cranked. But even them stores, what didn't use them, sold what a real man wielded in his own home. You bought new ones, two at a time. Them handles was made like them wire clothes-hangers, that piled up at your place, because the dry-cleaner kept delivering new ones twice a week, with your Daddy's work-clothes hangin' on 'em. One mis-calculated swat/swing, could ruin the weapon, and that's why you needed a spare handy. If you threw a battered one away, and you didn't forget you done it, you bought two more on your next visit[to count all them dead flies again; guage how things was going down to the store].

They was sellin' plastic fly-swatters by the time I come along, but ever-so-often, at a country store, up at the lake, where you could buy wriggly bugs and slimy worms and such, that they'd taken great pains to keep alive, and in perfect ass-hauling condition, you'd find a rack full of the real McCoy's. They sold good out in the country, and the clerk kept a private stock of them swatters, just for the locals what depended on 'em. He knew some city-slicker would spy that rack of deadly-weapons, and peel-off enough new bills to buy every 'last one.' That's why the price was double what they charged neighborly-folk; and them old boys in rings around the centrally-located pot-belly woodstove got a good laugh out of it, every time they sold outta them swatters.

For a bright young feller like me, they'd sometimes demonstrate the killin'-power them weapons had in 'em, and their personal efficacy, when armed with one. I got a thrill beyond compare, when one of them codgers quit his whittlin' for a spell, and commenced to battin' them green blow-flies right out of the air, just for my entertainment.

You gotta be quick, and them fellers was! They had deadly aim with that bakky-juice too, when they spied one a them cocky-roaches restin' on the floor someplace nearby!

Attached to the coat-hanger wire-handle, at the business-end, there was a 3"X4" rectangle of screen-door wire-mesh, what lets the air pass through, so you don't blow that sucker outta the way, like you will with a newspaper or magazine. They hand-stitch a red ribbon around the edge, so the mesh don't unravel itself. They's all made in America, and always in small towns where there ain't much for work. You pretty-much use scraps of screen-wire, thread & ribbon to make them; summa that comes from fixin' doors and windows in the Spring[I've even seen rusty taken-down screens recycled for these old-timey swatters]. "A country boy can survive!" Keep your whole family workin', if you was born with a entrepreneurial spirit!

I've seen them chaw-spittin' old men hang that swatter, now with flies stuck on it, back where them city-slickers can buy a used one for double the price of a new one; they'd wink at me, sayin,' "That'll show them strangers how good they work!" It was watchin' these old fellers, how I learned all the things you can git a barn cat to do with one a them swatters too!

????? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co6tQqyjTTM - slo-mo swat https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otqcVG-nJGI - swat science https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHAmb8fIH-o - barn cat? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fFR2VABpk4 - improved technique? https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/29/science/cockroaches-dying-belly-up.html - belly up?

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curlysgirl0202 · 3 months ago

Text

JOHNNY RINGO/READER STORY CONTINUED...

"Please come this afternoon, Johnny!" You plead.

Ringo looks at you and then turns away.

"Why do you care so much when nobody else does?" Ringo asks you. "You're running a fool's errand waiting around for someone like me."

He shakes his head, gazing at you and the innocence that surrounds you, although you endured horrors during and after the war.

"Johnny, just come for a short while?"

"Sure. Then maybe you'll learn you're wasting your time." He looks down. "You don't know what I've done..." He whispers, almost to himself.

"Johnny, I know about Quantrill! I know about you and Jesse and Frank James!"

Ringo looks at you, uncertain of what to make of your knowledge of his past.

Ringo nods slowly. "That ain't the worst part," he grumbles.

"The Hoodoo War? The Youngers? Johnny, I know. Did you know Doc Holliday is wanted in Dodge for slicing a man from his chest to his..." You put your head down.

Johnny Ringo takes a long look at you. He touches your face and rings your chin with his thumb. His large, calloused hand feels the softness of your skin. He loves the way the light catches the highlights of your hair and gold flecks sparkle in the sun. He knows at that moment, he's never seen a more beautiful woman.

"Doc has a death wish," Johnny answers, gazing at the vast frontier. "I'm sure we'll share a room in hell." Johnny's eyes are still surveying the area.

Unfamiliar emotions creep into Ringo's heart. Your softness and naive nature make him feel vulnerable and a bit uneven. He didn't want to appear weak or lovesick in front of the other Cowboys.

"Women sure are a thing of wonder!" Curly Bill declared on many occasions. "But they make a man weak!"

And Curly Bill was right; women can ease the burden of loneliness men like Ringo endured. But only for a short time and probably because they either needed to accommodate other customers or because they simply lost interest. Whores don't participate in charity and they expect to be well paid for their services.

"You should go home. You shouldn't be here," Johnny tells you, but you hear the longing in his voice. "You're too good for this place. Why would you ride out here anyway? Nothing but a bunch of smelly cowboys!"

You move closer to Johnny and to your relief, he doesn't back away.

"I wanted to know why you just left!"

"Because I'm not good enough for you! Nobody around here is."

Your heart sinks.

"No! I'm not!" You declare.

"Please keep your voice low," Johnny pleads. "I don't want them asking questions about you. Damn fools," Johnny grunts.

"Tell my why you-"

"Left?" He responds. Johnny rubs the back of his neck. "Seeing you lying there looking like some sort of forbidden fruit. You, you...You looked so perfect. So sweet and pure. How could I touch you? I don't deserve to touch you!"

"Johnny," you whisper, covering your mouth with your hand. You struggle to understand this man standing in front of you.

He cannot stand to see you in any pain or distress. "See, I told you. You hang around me, you'll get nothing but trouble. Nothing but danger and trouble will come your way!"

You begin to turn away to leave, but you know you must stand your ground. "That's why? Johnny, I wanted to be with you!"

Curly Bill stands up to stretch out and looks over at you and Johnny. He adjusts his hat and returns to working on helping Pony fix a wheel on the chuck wagon.

Johnny Ringo looks at you and your sincere words touch him deeply. His upbringing and his mother telling him over and over that he must be a good Christian gentleman.

"If you're a Christian gentleman, it will open doors for you, Johnny," his mother would say. "You must become educated and do not let the ways of the world corrupt you."

"You'll be disappointed. Like everyone else," Johnny answers.

You walk close enough to him that your bodies are almost touching.

"Just come to my home later. Please?" You plead. "Just for a visit. Without anyone there. Just us." You put your hand out and take his. He almost pulls away, but savors the softness of your touch.

Johnny nods and then turns away. "I'll be there," he sighs.

You walk fast towards Daisy. After you mount up, you shout,Giddyap, girl!" You ride fast back to your cottage and once Daisy is secure, you head into your home where you freshen yourself for Johnny Ringo. After washing up, you brush your hair, apply some lotion and body spray and wait for your cowboy.

Johnny Ringo returns to his tent. He smiles to himself briefly. Your determination to win him over touches him deeply and he wonders what you see in him. Women always seemed happy to see Johnny and his gentlemanly qualities made him a favorite with the ladies. However, those ladies were often associated with prostitution. Women of the night who offer comfort to lonely outlaws don't ask questions, don't care how much whiskey you suck back or where you come from. Keep the cash flowing and they'll show genuine concern; something Ringo can't seem to live without.

Curly Bill saunters over and flips the tent flap open. "What's that all about Juanito? Can't have a little beauty like that coming over here around these boys! She oughta know better!" Curly Bill admonishes.

"I didn't send for her," Ringo says, feeling annoyed at Curly Bill's curiosity.

"A face like hers could stop a stampede. Or start one! She's gotta know we can't have a distraction like that! You know how them boys are! Specially the Clanton's and McClaurey's!"

"Quit wagging your tongue, Bill!" Ringo barks back. "We could use something soft around here. Get a break from the stink of horse shit and you smelly cowboys!"

"You stink just as bad, there, Johnny!" Curly Bill reminds him as he swaggers back to where he was earlier. He shakes his head while walking towards the picket line of horses.

"Women..." He mumbles under his breath.

Johnny takes his boots off and shakes the dirt out. "Johnny, if the law don't catch up to you, the smell of your feet will." He changes his socks and puts his boots back on. He wants to feel and look his best for you. You deserve better than a stinky cowboy. He combs his hair and puts his hat back on.

Without saying a word, Ringo heads to the picket line. He carefully saddles his horse and heads to your quaint and modest cottage.

Johnny trots out of the Cowboys camp and rides full gallup to your home. He feels the wind in his hair and the feeling of a strong horse between his legs. He tightens his grip on the reigns.

"Giddyap!" He shouts, and spurs his horse into a run.

You can hear the sound of Johnny's horse approaching and you check your face in the mirror one last time. You rush to the front door, but decide to practice patience.

Your heart skips a beat when his knuckles tap your door.

You open it slowly. He sees you, dressed in a pink blouse and tan colored skirt and in bare feet.

He can feel his neck turn hot and flushed when he looks at you.

"Welcome, Johnny," you say softly, a shy smile decorating your face.

Johnny Ringo takes his hat off and enters your quaint home. "This is a nice little place. You must do well as a waitress."

You close the door and smile up at your cowboy.

"I do alright. Tips help."

"I'm sure you do well in that regard. Specially with the menfolk." Johnny can feel his face grow red as he regrets giving you the compliment. "I didn't mean it like that. You're just a special lady. That's all."

"I know what you meant, Johnny. No need to explain."

Johnny smiles freely and realizes how much he admires how free you are in life. You don't scoff or wait for him to explain himself. You just accept him. And understand him. Johnny rocks back and forth on his feet. He stands, with his hat in his hands.

"Here, let me take that," you say. You pull a chair out and he curses himself for not reacting sooner. He sees a vase of fresh flowers resting on your small table and he clenches his jaw. In his rush and nervousness, he didn't bring anything for you. He looks down and then back at your beautiful face.

"What's wrong, Johnny?" You inquire.

He shakes his head. "Just...I can't believe how pretty you are," he says, suddenly feeling foolish again.

You smile sweetly. He moves closer to you, his slurs echoing on the wooden floor. "Please have a seat, Johnny! Do you want some tea?"

Johnny doesn't respond right away.

"How about a little whiskey? I have some!" You annouce happily.

Johnny smiles and lowers his head, feeling a little foolish that he'd rather have whiskey than tea.

"Please have a seat!" You say. Johnny watches you move around the kitchen, smooth in your bare feet.

You grab two plates, two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. You then reach up and take a freshly baked pie from the cupboard.

"I hope you're hungry! I baked a pie very early this morning."

Johnny adjusts himself in his chair and watches you play the hostess so gracefully. You cut two slices, lick your thumb and place the dishes in front of you both. You take a bite and then Johnny, feeling awkward, picks up the fork and takes a bite. The sweetest of the pie, mixed with hints of cinnamon and butter melt in his mouth. He savors the richness of the dessert and slowly sips his whiskey.

"It's really tasty," Johnny remarks, causing you to smile.

"Thank you!" Through the open window, you can hear the whinnying of the horses and you get a wiff of the sweet aroma of wildflowers that flow through the soft afternoon breeze. A relaxed feeling washes over Johnny Ringo in a way he's not familiar with. He takes another bite of pie.

"Hard to believe a woman like you isn't settled," Johnny tells you. "You're a hard working lady. And you can bake." Johnny takes the last bite of his pie. "Hard to believe you're not attached."

Johnny suddenly cringes, feeling awkward. "I didn't mean it like that," he finishes. He takes a sip of whiskey and glares out the window.

"It's just, you're different...I could see that when you were serving us. Curly Bill likes to get a rise out of people." He finishes off his pie and pushes the plate aside.

"More?" You ask, licking your fingers in an almost child-like manner. Ringo lowers his head and grins.

Why is she not with anyone?

He shakes his head. "Maybe I'll take a piece back to camp," he says. "All the boys will be jealous," he attempts to lighten the mood.

"Curly Bill did say he was sorry," you mention.

"Yeah, old Curly just talks. He prefers it when people are afraid of him. He likes throwing his weight around. And often, people move out of his way. But then there's someone like you who just offers kindness. It's not something we Cowboys are used to."

You smile, remembering how nervous and out of place Curly Bill looked when he apologized to you.

"At least he was decent," you say.

"Curly Bill is one of the toughest and bravest men I know. And he's loyal as all hell. He's skeptical of any kindness. Especially from a beautiful woman," Johnny blushes, but doesn't care.

"Curly Bill Brocius is someone who can make you laugh when you're down."

You nod your head, showing you can picture that about the old rustler.

"He wants to settle down someday. He's talked about that. A part of him may be envious I'm seeing you." Ringo smiles. "He thinks he's a lady's man. And sometimes he does lay that old charm down. But mostly he's just as awkward as any cowboy." Johnny lets out a sigh. "He'll always have your back. He's damn loyal and he demands loyalty in return." Johnny adjusts himself in his seat. "I promise he didn't mean any harm."

"I've had my reconciliation with Curly Bill and he was quite the gentleman about it. In fact, I was surprised considering how gruff he was during our first encounter." You draw circles around your plate. "I'm glad he said something."

"Curly's not all bad. He's just got an odd way of showing his feelings." Ringo scratches the back of his neck. "He's someone I can always count on that's for sure."

"Sounds like you two are close," you say, playing with your pie slice, poking it with your fork.

"Yeah, you could say that," Johnny answers.

"This place. This territory. It's really not safe for someone like you." Johnny tells you while he's fumbling with the fork.

"I plan on staying," you tell Johnny. He nods.

"I believe that about you," he answers. "You're a brave lady. Coming out here by yourself."

"Josephine Marcus did it," you respond.

"She came with a theater troupe. And she's a whore." Johnny sucks back his whiskey.

"I..." Johnny says your name. "I'm sorry. You're a lady. I shouldn't talk like that. Josephine isn't a lady..." Johnny says, gazing out the window at the sound of his horse.

You lower your head. You've seen Josephine and how she vies for attention from the Cowboys. Although they enjoy the company of a beautiful and sophisticated woman, Josephine always seemed more childish; a woman who simply lives in the moment, waiting for the next big adventure...Or man to help finance her lifestyle even though her father often sent her money. Her appetite for the finer things hungered for lavish gifts, dresses and jewelry. Johnny notices the striking contrast between you and Josephine; Josie's goals include enjoying life and multiple relationships, sometimes at one time. You see the world through the lens of loss and longing. You long for the calm of nature, the babbling of a brook or stream, the way the sunlight dances on the water in the middle of the day. These things set you apart from women like Josie, who wouldn't want to waste her time hiking or reading about fossils like you do. You find joy in simplicity and Johnny Ringo adores you for that.

"Isn't she with Wyatt?" You inquire.

Ringo shakes his head. "I don't know. I think she's playing Behan and Earp. Although I'm no fan of the Earps, Wyatt is a better man than Behan. I don't dislike Josephine. I don't trust loose women."

You nod your head. You came into Tombstone alone and the rumor circulating included the fact that you didn't have a man at all...Or maybe the men of Tombstone just hoped that was the case.

Johnny sighs and looks at you. You're drawing shapes on the table with your finger, waiting for the awkward silence to end when you think of something to say.

"Are you planning on staying in town long?" He finally manages to ask.

"As long as I can. I'm lucky I got a place to rent at least. I was getting tired of staying at the hotel although it was convenient for work."

"As for me, I sleep under the stars like most cowboys," Johnny answers, almost embarrassed that he sleeps in a tent while you're renting a cottage.

"It's not that I don't or want..." He fumbles with his words. "I guess I prefer the open range to the confinements of a room."

"Well, if you're driving cows, you don't have a choice." You tell him.

"Yep..." He agrees, ashamed to tell you the cows he drives are stolen. He dismisses it for a moment, simply wanting to enjoy you and your company.

"It ain't all bad," Johnny says, wiping his mustache. "It's actually peaceful sleeping under the stars. Even when we got a bunkhouse, most of Curly's boys still prefer a bedroll out in the open."

"Well, I've certainly spent nights in the cold too. Especially right after the Yankees burned everything." You let out a sigh. You also dismiss your memory in exchange for some time with Johnny Ringo.

"Would you like another slice of pie, Johnny?" You ask.

Johnny looks at you for a moment, just taking in your beauty. "No, ma'am," he answers.

Johnny Ringo begins to feel awkward. He shifts in his seat. His eyes wander away for a moment and when they return to you, a sadness shows in them. Johnny lets out a long sigh.

You begin clearing the plates and tea cups.

"Would you like some more whiskey?" You ask.

Johnny nods.

"You're a beautiful woman," Johnny declares, feeling his face grow red from embarrassment.

"Thank you, Johnny!" You answer, feeling elated.

"Not just that." Johnny looks down at the empty shot glass. You fill it and he puts his fingers on the rim. "Thank you," he says sincerely and softly.

"You're welcome." You respond.

"Not just that. You're a special lady," Johnny contio, feeling a bit more confident.

You lower your head and chuckle.

"It's true," he tells you. He's tempted to reach out and take your hand, but doesn't want to seem too forward.

"Johnny, you too," you answer.

Johnny almost laughs out loud. "I don't feel so special," he admits.

"I reckon you don't think so. I can see that in your eyes, Johnny."

He quickly turns away from you, his shame falling over him. He rode with Bloody Bill Anderson and killed a Yankee soldier who was younger than himself. Ringo will never forget the sense of shame and sadness he felt when he saw that Yankee kid die. Johnny Ringo can feel his fear and guilt weigh down on him. So much so, he wouldn't be able to stand if he wanted to.

He was just a kid...Ringo thinks.

And Quantrill shouted for me to fire my pistol. I didn't care if I missed or what Quantrill would do as an admonishment for my bad aim...So, I fired it right into his chest. I swear I saw his ribs burst out! Ringo rages in his mind all while staying stoic...

He shakes his head. "I wasn't always..." He says your name, while he sucks back his guilt.

What did those Yankees do to you?! You scream in your mind.

Johnny starts to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He cannot comprehend why a woman like yourself works as a waitress in one of the toughest boom towns in the west. And why you chose to risk so much when you could be enjoying life with a husband who can provide you with everything you deserve.

Ringo shakes his head.

"A Union soldier came to our farm dressed in a Confederate uniform," you begin. "After we fed him, he revealed himself and proceeded to gather whatever he wanted from my mother." You gaze down at the table.

Johnny's gaze meets the floor and then he looks back at you. The way your eyes light up and the sweet smile on your face tell a different story. A story where none of those atrocious things happened to you... Because when Johnny Ringo looks at you, he sees the light in your eyes burn with a resilience he felt he lost.

"How'd you keep smiling?" Johnny asks. "Everyone I know is downright bitter. Having to start over so many damn times." Ringo clears his throat. "No offense, ma'am." His gentlemanly manner shows at that moment. His respect for you is so strong, he doesn't want to cuss in front of you!

You smile and begin to move your hand towards his. When you touch his hand, he quickly jerks it away, his feelings of inadequacy keeping him from enjoying this moment. He sees the look of disappointment in your eyes and he curses himself.

"I didn't mean anything, Johnny," you say, your voice is full of genuine concern.

He shifts again and looks down at the table.

Johnny sighs. He doesn't feel worthy of your touch...

Curly Bill wouldn't hesitate with you, Ringo thinks. If old Curly knew a lovely lady like yourself showed any interest, the old rustler would be laying on the charm!

"I've taken up enough of your afternoon," Johnny says, slowly getting up, feeling the sting of being forced to leave your presence.

"No, please stay, Johnny," you plead, that genuine concern he loves in your voice.

Ringo looks at you and can't believe someone so special would desire his company. He lets out a small, but hopeful smile.

"You don't give up easily, do you?" He asks, almost smirking.

"No," you answer. Then you shake your head. "I'm a rebel like you," you say softly.

"Reckon that's something we have in common!" Johnny answers, feeling slightly more comfortable.

You reach your hand out and this time he takes it ..

He can't believe how soft your hands feel in his rough and calloused ones. He recalls the time he enjoyed intimacy with you and he can feel the tugging of his shame on his heart.

You pour two glasses of whiskey and you lift your glass and say, "here's to you, Johnny Ringo!"

Johnny smirks and takes a drink. Then he lifts his glass and says, "here's to the most beautiful woman I've ever met." He clinks his glass and sips his whiskey, wishing he never said that.

Johnny Ringo begins to feel tipsy. He worries he may lose control with a woman like yourself. Because he can feel the effects of the rotgut whiskey, he starts to fear he will quickly lose control. He clenches his fists and tries to regain his self control, all maintaining a stoic demeanor.

"Johnny," your voice is full of sincere gratitude.

"It's true. I can't imagine why you'd want to waste your time with someone like me." Johnny finishes his whiskey and glances out the window. He's torn between wanting to leave and feel the safety of solitude and the other part of him wants to take you in his arms and kiss you...Then make love to you. He wants to feel your body trembling against his while he brings you pleasure. When he visualizes having you in an intimate setting, he becomes overwhelmingly aroused; he also experiences a strong sense of shame for seeing you in such an intimate setting.

Johnny stands up and barely manages to release the words:

I should go...

You stand in front of the Shakespearean quoting gunfighter. You're no stranger to adversity and as a proud Confederate, you saw your world sink to its knees and everything your family built dissolved in just a matter of hours when those dirty Yankees plowed through the villages.

Your eyes lock with Johnny's and the two of you move close. Johnny Ringo pulls you close and lifts your chin. He slowly and smoothly with the overwhelming touch of a gentleman kisses you.

You wrap your arms around him the two of you fall into a sweet embrace. Johnny sees a million stars while kissing you!

For the first time in what seems like forever, Johnny Ringo feels a peace wash over him; the dam that blocked his heart breaking down from your genuine love for him. When the two of you pull away, his eyes lock with yours.

"You're something else, you know that?" His soft voice flows through your welcoming ears.

An overwhelming sensation floods your soul and you find it difficult to speak. "Johnny," you whisper.

Johnny says your name while he removes a strand of hair away from your face.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he says softly, kissing your forehead.

"I think I should head back before Curly Bill's crew starts wondering," he says with longing in his voice.

"Please don't go," you plead.

Johnny sighs, feeling his manliness throbbing. All he wants to do is make love to you, but he's torn. His tendencies to value women creeps in and he refuses to treat you like a chippie or a prostitute. He would like to plan a special encounter with you that includes the respect you so richly deserve.

Johnny looks down at you.

"I promise I'll be back." He says firmly. "And," he begins, holding his hat in his hands. "If you see me on the street, you don't need to talk to me...I wouldn't want anyone thinking anything about you that isn't true." He looks down in shame. For you to remain discreet because of him causes him great discomfort.

"I'll be very proud to speak to you," you answer.

Johnny blinks, not believing your words...He stands and looks at you.

"You would?" He asks.

"Of course I would!" You respond with that smile he loves!

Johnny smirks, still not believing the perseverance you've demonstrated. Most women wouldn't handle themselves with the grace and integrity you do. And to tolerate Curly Bill's harshness only to accept his sincere apology shows the depth of your care.

"That means a lot...More than you know. But for your own safety, be careful. They'll be plenty of folks out to tell you to stay away from me." His eyes grow sad again. He takes your hands and almost absent mindedly kisses them. Your heart soars. Then you take his hands and kiss his knuckles. He tries to pull away, almost in shame. His hands killed...His hands shoveled manure, robbed and rustled cows.

"You don't have to do that..." He says, his voice fading to a whisper. He pulls his hands away in shame.

"I want to," you respond.

He shakes his head while gazing at the floor.

"You're really special, you know that?" He finally says. "You really care, don't you?" Johnny Ringo feels a warmth flow through his body, so comforting, he feels unsettled and confused. His heart wrestles with the powerful emotions you stirred in him.

Johnny gazes into your eyes, the raw emotions flooding through him. He cannot recall a time when he felt safe, warm and welcome. He longs for your touch and the softness you demonstrate. He imagines touching your soft skin, letting his fingers explore your body while he takes his time soaking in your beauty, kindness and grace.

To your surprise, Johnny pulls you close, cups your face and kisses you passionately. You wrap your arms around him and the two of you become lost in the purity of the moment. He pulls away and kisses your forehead.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Johnny looks into your eyes with his intense gaze telling you if he stays, he may lose control...You nod. He mounts his horse, tips his hat to you and rides into town for some whiskey.

You look out the window and breathe in the fresh air. You ruffle your hair and smile to yourself. You embrace your small triumph that you got Johnny Ringo, the deadliest gunfighter since Cole Younger to drop his guard just long enough for a kiss. You can still feel his lips on yours and the softness of his mustache, the aroma.a of horses in his clothes and the way he looked into your eyes when he said, "thank you..."

You let out a chuckle to yourself. Then you head outside to take care of Daisy.

"Hey girl... Guess what?" You ask, nudging her nose. "He kissed me..." You brush her coat and change her water and spend the rest of your day off planting in your garden and doing laundry. All before you take a bath and prepare for your day back at work tomorrow.

While you busy yourself planting carrots, peas, potatoes, green beans and onions, Ringo walks with his signature gait towards the Dragoon Saloon.

"Evening, Ringo," drawls Crooked Jay while he fills glasses for thirsty customers.

"Whiskey," Ringo says, his voice just a bit lighter. Jay glances over, noticing the subtle change in Ringo's demeanor. "You're looking a little flushed, cowboy, what's with that? Better be careful you don't show it too much 'round here. Folks'll be wondering why you ain't somber." Jay pours whiskey.

"Nevermind, Jay" Johnny answers. "Just been in the sun too long."

"Zat so?" Crooked Jay answers, spitting on the floor. Ringo glances over. "There's a spittoon for that. You really gotta spit on your own floor?" Ringo shakes his head.

"Hell, it ain't no matter. Most folks miss that damn bucket anyhow. Ain't nothing..." His voice fades to a whisper while his greedy fingers grab the pennies and quarters Ringo put on the bar.

"Got a new chippie," Jay says, sticking a half chewed cigar in his mouth. He gnaws the cigar while he takes more orders for whiskey and beer.

"I ain't interested, Jay," Johnny answers, staring into his glass. He begins to feel that familiar dark sensation creep through his body like a damn curse. He lowers his head and remembers he didn't feel that darkness at all while with you...

"You ain't even seen her yet. Come all the way from New Orleans. That don't make no damn sense." Jay shakes his head.

Does it really show? Ringo thinks to himself...The time he spent with you clearly shows on his face. He cannot recall a time when he felt more alive than when he kissed you. At the same time, the last thing he wants is for folks to see him going soft. Enemies can sense when a man starts to lose his tough edge and nothing can weaken a man more than a beautiful woman...

"Aw, come on son," Crooked Jay answers. "Her name is Selena. She's been busy giving boys like you a taste of home sweet home. Hell, she'll make ya feel human again!"

Johnny sucks back his whiskey. "I said no, Mr."

"Suit yourself, cowboy. Y'all missing out!"

No I'm not... There's no one like YN..." Ringo says to himself.

Johnny puts a few coins on the bar, adjusts his hat and leaves. Your face appears whenever he closes his eyes. He smiles to himself while walking to the livery.

He saddles his horse and heads back to camp.

"There he is!" Ike Clanton drawls, stumbling, holding a bottle of whiskey.

Johnny dismounts at the picket line and moves toward his tent.

"You all done with that little cunt we saw earlier?" Ike takes another swig of whiskey.

Before Ike can say anything else, Ringo throws a punch at the smaller cowboy. Ike stumbles backwards. He shakes his head to get his bearings.

"What the hell that for?" Ike groans.

"You ever talk about her like that again, I'll kill you, Ike!" Johnny growls.

"Calm down, Ringo!" Ike snaps, holding his cheek and wiping blood from his lips. Billy Clanton rushes over and helps Ike to his feet. Johnny stands almost motionless, ready for a confrontation. Your beauty burned on his brain softens him minorly. He knows he can bust Ike up on Ike's best day.

"Go easy, Ringo!" Billy Clanton barks.

"Stay out of this!" Johnny grunts. Johnny's intense and dark gaze pierces both Clanton brothers. The boys back away, knowing how unpredictable Johnny can be, especially when a woman is involved.

Curly Bill, along with McMasters and Stilwell swagger over.

"What the hell's going on here?!" Curly Bill shouts.

"Y'all cool off!"

Johnny's eyes stab Curly Bill with such intensity, Curly Bill adjusts his hat and puts his hands on his hips.

Curly Bill signals for the Clanton's to back away, they retreat towards the chuck wagon. Stilwell and McMasters look at Curly Bill, curious as to how he'll handle the situation. Their gazes move from Ringo to Curly.

"That's what women do," Curly Bill begins. "Especially a beautiful one like her. They make a man lose his head real quick."

"Enough, Bill," Ringo answers. Without looking at anyone, Johnny heads to his tent. Thoughts of you whirl through his mind. He can see you eating pie with him, your sweet smile breaking his walls down and oh, that kiss! Johnny composes himself and retreats to his tent. He can feel his body throbbing and he closes his eyes while sitting up, looking out the open flap. He imagines you riding into camp and surprising him by sneaking into his tent. The two of you make love without guilt or shame. He can feel your warm body close to his and he knows he needs to relieve himself at some point.

When everyone is sleeping, Johnny begins to decompress his insatiable appetite. While he massages himself, he sees your face through a frame of exploding stars. He relives the moment of the kiss you shared before he feels an explosion of ecstasy. Johnny suddenly feels guilty for participating in such an act, but you have driven him to a place where he feels wonderfully helpless to stop your pursuit of him. He carefully cleans himself up and falls into a deep sleep.

The morning sun bathes you while you sleep and you stir at the sound of Daisy whinnying in her stable. You slowly rise and stretch, making some coffee and engaging in your morning routine.

After Daisy enjoys her oats, you brush her down. You wonder what work Daisy did before as quarter horses were usually for work; in fact they were favored by cowboys.

"It's happening, girl!" You whisper. Once Daisy is hitched and ready, you head to work for the breakfast rush.

When you get to work, you notice Big Nellie stroking the back of one of the customers while she helps herself to the leftovers in his plate. You roll your eyes and wonder how a woman could let herself go like that.

Fatty emerges from the kitchen, holding three steaming plates of eggs and hotcakes. He places the dishes on the table, mops his face with his apron and nods at you.

"Thank goodness you're here!" Fatty exclaims. "Been busier than usual! And of course Big Nellie does nothing! Nothing but eat the leftovers! She eats the free chuck and Emmett wonders "why am I losing money?!" Fatty shakes his head and scurries back into the kitchen. You put your things away and prepare yourself.

"What can I get you?" You stand before a group of men you're unfamiliar with.

"Name's Morton," one of the men declares.

You nod,. smile and take your pencil and pad out.

"What can I get you gentleman?" You ask, ready to take their orders.

"You can start by getting us some coffee! We'll all take the same. Three orders of steak , eggs, biscuits. We'd like some honey on them biscuits!" Morton demands.

You take their orders and head to the kitchen.

Fatty looks at the dining room. "Mary, mother of all that is holy!" Fatty grasps the necklace he wears around his neck.

Morton, the same man who helped LG Murphy shoot and kill John Tunstall. The man who targeted Tunstall's regulators after Tunstall died.

"What's wrong, Fatty?" You ask

"That man...He and LG Murphy destroyed Lincoln County," Fatty lowers his shaking head.

"I heard about that!" You respond. "Those bastards shot John Tunstall right in front of his Regulators! Then Billy the Kid went on a rampage with those boys."

"Yes. Haven't an idea why they're here in Tombstone when they should be in New Mexico!" Fatty answers, shaking his head.

"I just took their orders," you respond.

"I'll assist them, young lady," Fatty says, wiping his head with his apron. "Or Big Nellie. She don't seem to be afraid of anyone!" He finishes, fidgeting with the stings on his apron. You smile back.

"Maybe they'll be on their way. Stage comes tomorrow and the train leaves for San Francisco tomorrow afternoon."

"Quit jawing! Get our coffee, girl!" Dalton shouts in your direction.

Trembling, you return to their table. "Yes, of course!" You tell them.

"You forget already?" He fires at you.

"No...I just..."

"Well, quit that damn stammering and get back to work!"

At that moment, the jingle of spurs can be heard. You turn and see Curly Bill Brocius walking in, Johnny Ringo following closely. Billy Clanton strolls in with Ike behind him and McMasters follows slowly.

"Well,that ain't no way to talk to a lady!" Curly Bill growls.

Dalton turns to look at the menacing group of Cowboys.

"Name's Curly Bill Brocius. I run these boys and this damn town. This here is Johnny Ringo. I'm sure you heard of him, ain't ya?"

Dalton and his men freeze and look at each other. Coming face to face with Curly's Red Sash Gang causes the men to shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Johnny winks at you, letting Curly Bill handle the situation. He stands cold, calculating and eerily quiet, letting his stone cold expression, icy blue eyes and reputation do the talking.

Curly Bill tips his hat to you and stands confidently, his arms crossed over his chest as if daring the Dalton boys to do something.

"YN is a special lady around here. Just ask Ringo right here," Curly glances at Johnny who hasn't moved.

"We weren't bothering her none," Dalton drawls.

"That wasn't what I saw, boy!" Curly barks back. At that moment, Barnes and Stillwell strut in, Barnes, with a shotgun nestled in his shoulder smiles at the Dalton's and Stillwell stares with cold eyes.

Curly Bill looks at you. He admires your tough, yet gentle spirit. The way you remained stoic even when he behaved like a horse's ass. But Curly Bill Brocius values loyalty and you demonstrated that to him when you accepted his sincere apology without admonishments or harsh words. And how you clearly care about Johnny Ringo, one of their own. The Cowboys protect their own and anyone associated with them.

"Well, there's plenty of restaurants 'round here!" Curly Bill grumbles in a low voice. "Sides, this here is our table anyhow and YN always takes care of us boys! Y'all go on now." Curly Bill's voice carries a warning. "This ain't New Mexico, boy!"

The Dalton boys stand, clearly outnumbered.

The moment they stand, Curly Bill eases his form into the seat before the Dalton's reach the door.

Curly Bill smiles at you and the exchange between the if you shows that your safety is insured when they're around.

"You alright?" Johnny asks, concern in his voice. He puts his hand on the small of your back. A desire to fall into his arms overwhelms you. You gaze up at him. "Thank you," you whisper.

Johnny smiles down at you and brushes the hair away from your face with a gentle hand.

"What can I bring you gentleman?" You ask while the other Cowboys take their seats.

"Coffee, YN," Curly drawls, feeling proud that he came to your rescue.

"Absolutely!" You tell him.

"Thank ya kindly, darlin'," Curly Bill answers.

"Ya ever find yourself in a situation like that again, you just tell us," Barnes adds, taking a seat.

"I really appreciate that," you respond.

"Well, anyone who can put a smile on Ringo's face must be something special," Barnes continues.

You can't help but smile. Johnny looks down and then back at you. He nods and smirks just enough to let you know he'll always have your back.

When you return with a tray of hot coffee, you take their orders.

Curly Bill goes first. "Got lucky at poker again last night! I'll take a steak, two eggs and biscuits."

"Of course," you answer, happily. Curly Bill's demeanor is a stark contrast from the first time he and his cowboys were in the restaurant.

The others order hotcakes and fried potatoes and bacon. You take their orders and head to the kitchen.

Fatty busies himself cracking eggs and flipping hotcakes when you return. "The Dalton's left!" You announce, your eyes beaming with relief.

Fatty pauses and wipes his big face with his apron. He heads to the dining hall and sees the Cowboys sitting where the Dalton's were

"Howdy there, partner," Curly Bill says. "Don't fret over them boys. They was dumb enough to bother the lovely lady here. I reckon they won't be bothering her again. And as long as we're having meals here, they won't bother any of you neither. Dumb bastards think they can talk to Johnny's girl like that."

Johnny feels a surge of pride. He's glad to see his Cowboys can embrace you and even go out of their way to protect you.

You hum to yourself while walking to the kitchen. You hand Fatty their orders and the large cook starts frying some steak. He orders Big Nellie to chop more potatoes. Big Nellie cuts up potatoes, onions and peppers. Nellie fries up the home fries and dumps some on a few plates.

Big Nellie cuts up more potatoes and peppers and onions so the restaurant staff could stay on top of the breakfast rush.

You return to check on the Cowboys and refill their coffee cups frequently so they don't need to ask. You bring a basket of warm biscuits and soft butter. "These are on me today!" You declare.

"Well, ain't that real nice," Curly Bill answers, helping himself to a biscuit. He takes a big bite and winks at you. You smile and return to the kitchen.

You notice out of all the patrons, the Cowboys keep their wide brim hats on while inside; something considered rude by certain societal standards. However they're a group that makes up their own rules and you appreciate that. After all, you left Missouri to head West for a taste of adventure.

More hungry customers walk down the stairs and take seats at the tables covered with oil clothes. Others enter through the front door. You greet them, while brushing hair behind your ears. You wipe the sweat off your head, take a breath and happily take their orders. Knowing the Cowboys sit close by, watching carefully, you breathe a little better.

Johnny watches in awe while you gracefully move through the restaurant, taking several orders at once, walking in and out of the kitchen, carrying a large, round platter with several steaming hot dishes of delicious delights including waffles, omelettes, sausage, oatmeal and fresh baked treats such as pies, doughnuts and sweet rolls.

You bring the Cowboys their orders; steaks cooked rare, pancakes, bacon, fried potatoes and sausage. You return to fill their coffee cups and ask if they need anything else.

"Just keep giving us that sweet smile," Barnes answers, his mouth full. The Cowboys eat quickly and clumsily, clearly showing their lack of decorum. All but Johnny, who chews his food and enjoys his food slowly. During a drive, cowboys do their best to not overindulge. Not much worse than riding on a full belly. However, when they were in town taking a break from driving cows, they ate freely, enjoying it as much as they could.

You find it charming. Watching Curly Bill takes big bites of steak with one fork and biting into a biscuit right after. He pauses just to sip his coffee and then goes back to happily digging in. They eat like no one is watching or they simply do not care, probably used to being gawked at. For these hardened men, the opinions of most people didn't affect them much.

You clear several plates. Big Nellie, who moves slowly by choice gives you a frustrated look. You hand her a plate of half eaten pancakes and she delightfully digs in while walking to the kitchen.

"Go easy, Big Nellie!" Curly Bill bellows, lighting up a cigar. "Save some room for the free chuck!"

With her mouth full, Nellie responds, "I'll be hungry again by then." She retreats to the kitchen. Curly Bill looks at you and smiles.

When you walk by, he brazenly takes your arm gently, but firmly. He knows not to scare you or upset you; he's a cowboy and doesn't possess the best manners.

"It's about time we lonely cowboys had something pretty and sweet to look at."

"Oh, Curly Bill!" You answer, chuckling. He lets go of your hand.

Curly Bill says your name. "I mean that. It ain't everyday someone makes this old cowboy feel appreciated."

You smile. Johnny Ringo nods at you recalling his intimate time with you. He face burns red but he composes himself. "You sure know how to make a man feel good," Johnny adds, his voice above a whisper.

Your eyes widen at Johnny. His gaze is so intense, it burns right through you. The Cowboys exchange glances, smiling at each other or shaking their heads in disbelief.

Johnny's got a soft spot after all...

"She sure is something..." Billy Clanton says, feeling like a silly school boy. "You sure got lucky there, Johnny." The younger cowboy shows some concern for Ringo's response, recalling how Johnny handled Ike when Ike disrespected you.

"Aw, hell! I didn't mean nothing by that, Ringo!" Billy Clanton says. "Just that we should all be so lucky. That's all..."

Johnny smiles in a way that shocks the Cowboys. They glance at each other.

Johnny Ringo smiling? The Cowboys ponder.

Curly Bill speaks up. "Aw, come on, son! You're making us all look bad! This lovely little lady puttin' a spell on you, boy?"

Johnny Ringo looks right at you. "Reckon she's putting a spell on me. I can't remember the last time I felt..." He pauses. "Alive," he whispers. He almost regrets saying it, but at the same time, he doesn't care.

You can't help but smile wide at Johnny's confession. He stares at the table, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling that comes with his acknowledgement of his feelings.

"Well, I think other customers are in need of some of that charm," Curly Bill grunts. "We'll take a little more coffee, you don't mind," he finishes.

"Of course! Anything for you boys!" You respond, rushing to the kitchen. You return and fill their coffee cups.

"Mighty nice," Ike Clanton says, wiping food off his beard.

Curly Bill and the other Cowboys pay for their meals and hand you a big tip. Not only did they protect you, they ensured your service was appreciated.

Curly Bill lightly touches your chin before winking and heading to the door, his spurs jingling.

Johnny stands before you. His intense desires to hold you overwhelm him. He brushes a hair away from your face. He glances at the glistening sweat that lays on your chest.

"I'll be seeing you," he says, his voice just above a whisper.

"When?" You ask.

Johnny looks around, a few customers look over with curious glances. He doesn't want them talking about you. He nods, a silent agreement between you two. You watch the gunfighter walk away with his signature gait.

Big Nellie bumps into you. You turn and she scowls at you. She begins gathering the Cowboys plates and dishes, along with the empty coffee cups. "They didn't leave anything!" She growls. You sigh, working with her really tests your nerves.

The hotel restaurant closes after breakfast at 10 and doesn't reopen for lunch until 12. While people move about in the lobby, you head to the kitchen to help wash dishes and help prepare lunch.

"Stop eating, Nellie!" Fatty complains. "All she does! And Emmett asks me why we lose money!"

"Plenty of men around here think I'm pretty!" Nellie answers, her mouth full.

"If you're not going to help YN, please go sweep or something!" Fatty groans.

"It's time for my break anyhow!" Nellie announces while her big gerth is moving towards the front door. She heads to the ice cream parlor. She takes a broom and sweeps up, hoping for a free scoop. Bonney shakes his head and offers a vanilla cone. She downs it before returning to the hotel kitchen.

It's clear she's envious of your beauty and grace, but knows she can't compete with you. After almost two hours of washing, chopping and mixing, Fatty allows you a small break. You fix yourself a small sandwich and eat it, washing it down with coffee.

"Thank you!" You say. "That hit the spot."

"Well, let's get ready for lunch. I already hear people walking over," Emmett answers.

Fatty fries up some chicken and you busy yourself mashing potatoes and checking the oven to see if the biscuits are ready. "A few more minutes," you say. You throw your towel over your shoulder and blow air out of your lungs.

Fatty asks you to mind the gravy and ensure it doesn't boil. You stir the gravy, the smells flood the kitchen, giving the aroma of a Thanksgiving feast.

Nellie takes green beans out of a pot of water and puts them in a large bowl. She adds salt and pepper and mixes the beans well. Fatty takes a roast from the oven and begins carving it up with the speed of a seasoned cook.

You move to the counter at Fatty's request, you chop tomatoes, lettuce and fresh cucumber. Then you make a dressing with whole milk and mayonnaise, adding salt and pepper.

Emmett opens the restaurant and several people enter, sitting at various tables.

You move through the tables.

"Good afternoon," you say in a friendly voice. "For lunch we have fried chicken, mashed potatoes, a roast, gravy, salad and biscuits."

People place their orders for beef or fried chicken and you happily serve up their plates, carefully putting the same amount on each dish. You put four plates on a round platter and provide hungry customers with lunch. The rush lasts two hours and a few minutes before once again, Emmett closes the kitchen, allowing the staff to rest and prepare dinner.

Dinner doesn't start for three hours so you take a break to refresh yourself. When you exit the hotel, you hear the jingling of spurs. Then Johnny Ringo moves towards you. He says your name and smiles at you.

"Johnny!"

He motions for you to meet him behind the hotel without the prying eyes of witnesses.

To your surprise and delight, he cups your face and kisses you passionately. The two of you share an embrace of romance as intense as Johnny Ringo himself.

"I couldn't wait to do that!" He confesses.

You return his affection, wrapping your arms around him. He puts his forehead against yours. "You...you don't seem real," he whispers.

"I am," you acknowledge. "And I want to be here with you."

Johnny kisses you again. "Now you get back to work," he teases, patting your behind with an open hand.

"See you later, cowboy," you whisper, blowing him a kiss. He shakes his head, not believing his luck.

His moment of happiness grows dark when he hears the booming voice of Wyatt Earp who walks quickly towards him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Ringo?" Wyatt demands.

"What's it to you, Earp?" Johnny asks, looking squarely at the lawman.

"Everything here concerns me and I won't have you taking advantage of her. Or any other decent woman around here. There are plenty of whores to go around for a man like you. And your friends!"

"What can you do, Earp? Maybe you should stick to lawing, not bothering citizens here," Ringo's tone is cold.

"Don't tempt me, cowboy! We've had enough of your kind!"

Ringo looks Earp up and down, the realization of his words hit Ringo hard.

"You could put her in serious trouble," Wyatt growls. "You're not concerned someone may exploit her to get back at you? You're walking a fine line."

"So are you, Earp," Ringo answers, implying Wyatt's relationship with Josephine Marcus although Maddie Blalock still resides with him.

Wyatt's eyes turn to ice, his piercing glance burning through Johnny. Johnny's head, still reeling from the kiss, feels vulnerable, but does his best to maintain his tough disposition.

"Stay on your own side of the street, Earp," Johnny answers, looking away.

Wyatt watches the gunfighter leave. He shakes his head and wanders towards the Oriental.

When Wyatt enters the saloon, he takes his hat off and demands a cigar.

"What's the matter, Wyatt?" Virgil grumbles, counting receipts.

"That damn Ringo!" Wyatt snaps. "It would be a damn shame if she ran off with him!"

"Well, not much you can do, Wyatt," Morgan answers, his feet up while he leans back in his chair, his hat over his eyes.

"We're supposed to keep the bad elements out of here!" Wyatt snaps.

"The Cowboys keep this town alive, Wyatt," Morgan says. "Unfortunately..."

"I need to warn her. Let her know what she's getting into with that scum!" Wyatt pumps beer into a glass and takes a seat. "How'd we do?" Wyatt grumbles, gazing at the receipts.

"Good. Business keeps flowing. We'll soon have enough to open our own place," Morgan chuckles.

Wyatt nurses his beer.

The brothers spend the next hour counting the remaining receipts and checking to ensure plenty of booze occupies the shelves along with the beer pumps. Wyatt looks out the window and can see you run up the steps of the hotel, ready for the dinner rush.

Fatty stirs the beef stew he prepared and asks you to make biscuits. You nod, smile to yourself and get to work mixing flour and eggs together. Big Nellie busies herself preparing a vegetable salad, she opens the pot of stew and helps herself.

"Big Nellie!" Fatty whines. "There some roast left from lunch! And I put out some beans and tortillas!" He points to a corner of the kitchen where a plate of warm tortillas sits next to a bowl of beans. Nellie huffs and continues working on the salad. Fatty shakes his head and looks at you with gratitude. You work hard and wait for your breaks. You return the nod and get back to scooping biscuit batter into a muffin tin.

Emmett steps outside to smoke a cigarette and you can hear voices, but you cannot make out what they're saying. At one point you hear your name and your heart sinks when you hear a man say, "that damn Ringo!"

Your heart sinks... The smile that adorns your face disappears and you find your knees shaking. You recall Johnny telling you the risks of associating with him and how dangerous Tombstone can be. You feel flushed, your pulse racing. You want to bury your head and cry...

Emmett returns and keeps the door open for customers. You take hot biscuits out of the oven and put another batch in. While putting biscuits into small baskets, you hear Emmett approaching.

"People ready to order," he announces. He glances at you as if to say something, but when Big Nellie pushes past him he simply nods and says, "thank you."

He knows something...You say to yourself. You feel flushed and hope it doesn't show while sucking back your urge to cry.

Once the baskets have enough biscuits in each, you head to the dining area, doing your best to keep a smile.

"We have beef stew, salad and of course biscuits," you say to a group of people gathered at one table.

The dinner rush keeps you focused, but you know you must ride out to the camp to see Johnny.

At camp, Johnny retreats to his tent to calm his aching heart. He knew trouble would come your way if you were associated with him. He curses himself for kissing you behind the restaurant, but he couldn't resist. The sweat glistening on your chest, your longing and loving eyes, the way your bosom rested on the tight fabric that keeps them a secret...

He lets the air out of his lungs in a disappointed sigh. He comes to hate the name Johnny Ringo all over again. That name, that fierce reputation became such an obstacle in his life; he could barely hold onto what little he still had left. He tells himself that love can conquer, but his world and his experiences leave him with little hope. He can't imagine you sneaking around, risking your own safety for him. Although he would never allow any harm to come your way, people of Tombstone could run you out of town, you could lose the cottage you saved up for, your reputation forever ruined because of your association with Johnny Ringo...

Ringo looks over a few other Cowboys. Some chop wood for the fire, others brush down the horses while some relax with whiskey and a smoke. Curly Bill notices Johnny's demeanor and heads to the tent Johnny used to shield himself from others.

"You alright, boy?" Curly asks, his cherubic face grinning.

"Damn self righteous sons a bitches!" Ringo grunts.

"Hell, Johnny! What happened?" Curly Bill is still holding the tent flap open.

"I shouldn't have touched her!"

"What the hell are you going on about?" Curly Bill drawls. "That sweet little thing at the hotel? Hell, she didn't seem bothered by you at all!"

"I kissed her...I thought nobody was around." Johnny tosses a book aside, trying to shake his anger.

"Aw, come on, son!" Curly Bill drawls. "Can't be as bad as all that!"

"Wyatt Earp told me to stay away from her!" Ringo barks. "Damn slugs!"

"Reckon that don't make no never mind!" Curly Bill chuckles. "They can't do nothing anyhow! Sides, Wyatt's got enough trouble with Holliday and Josephine Marcus. Hell, he ain't no saint!"

Johnny lets out a sigh of relief. He knew Curly's words hold some truth. Wyatt should focus on the two women he's playing and his questionable relationship with Doc Holliday. However, Johnny's haunting past creeps in whenever he feels the slow release of the chains that have bound him up for so long. When the prospect of something wonderful reveals itself, he finds himself questioning his worth.

When your shift ends you head to the livery. Amos is sitting on the ground, reading a dime novel. When he sees you, he quickly stands and adjusts his hat. "Mighty fine day, ma'am!" Amos declares, moving to retrieve Daisy for you."

"Amos," you begin. "Did...Did Johnny, Johnny Ringo pick up his horse earlier? I mean, did you keep his horse here?"

"Matter of fact, I did, ma'am! He sure was sour bout something."

"Did he say anything?" You inquire.

Amos scratches his head, "not that I reckon. He's usually real quiet." Amos hitches Daisy for you with the ease of someone who'd been working with horses his entire life. He checks the cinch and helps you up.

"Well," he starts. "Wish I could help you, ma'am, but with Mr. Ringo, it's all just a how do ya do. I'm guessing he ain't one for conversation."

You smile at Amos and hand him a five cent tip.

"Much obliged, ma'am!" Amos declares. He sits back down and continues reading his book.

You begin riding towards the Cowboys camp, but decide to return home first. You don't want to overwhelm Johnny. But you're desperate to see him.

Once Daisy is happily secured in her stable, you head inside to wash up. You recall the glare in Emmet's eyes. You hope he didn't intend to warn you about the dangerous and unpredictable man that is Johnny Ringo.

You can hear Daisy whinnying outside as if she's connected to your devotion to Johnny. Her restlessness stirs something in you.

After you wash up, brush your hair and apply some color to your lips.

"Come on, girl," you hum, saddling Daisy.

"Gidyap!" You shout, running the quarter horse through the brush and wildflowers that decorate the canvas of the Tombstone.

Curly Bill looks up from his drink when he sees you riding into the camp. Some of the Cowboys stand and take their hats off as it's not common to see such a beautiful woman in their presence.

"Y'all calm down now!" Curly Bill demands. "She ain't here for y'all to gawk at!"

Curly Bill approaches you and helps you off your horse.

"What are you doing here? Not that it ain't nice to see you, but this place isn't a place for a lady like you!" He takes his hat off and rocks on his feet unsure how to handle someone so lovely in the presence of a bunch of smelly cowboys with little manners.

"You're here to see Johnny, ain't ya?" He ponders, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wait here," he drawls. Curly Bill glares at some of the curious cowboys who haven't met you yet. "Get back to what you were doin'! This don't concern any of you!"

Johnny hears the booming voice of Curly Bill and exits his tent. He can see you standing several feet away. He quickly rises to his feet, adjusts his hat and moves swiftly to where you're standing.

Curly Bill winks at you and leaves you and Johnny alone.

Johnny approaches you. "This place is dangerous!" He says. "You shouldn't be here."

"Johnny! I saw Wyatt talking with you! Is that what's bothering you? I asked Amos if-"

Johnny cuts you off. "You asked the stable kid about me? Why? You could have asked me yourself."

You shake your head. You notice how Johnny pulls away whenever he feels the slightest threat to his union with you.

"Johnny! Please!"

"Don't draw attention to those slugs!" He says, trying to walk away from you.

"Really? You're going to pull away from me again?"

Johnny slowly turns. "Ain't no use," he mumbles.

Before Johnny can turn away, you stand your ground. "You know... Maybe you're right, Johnny!" Your frustrated voice manages. "I'll go waste my time somewhere else! Would that make you happy? Huh?! Fine!" You turn, mount Daisy and ride off, the strong quarter horse kicking up dirt. Johnny stands still, stunned by your dramatic exit.

Did I just lose her? His mind screams.

Curly Bill saunters over. "Well that sure was a hell and Jesus, Johnny." Curly Bill crosses his arms and shakes his head.

"Not now, Bill," Ringo drawls, looking away.

"You're a damn fool, Johnny!" Curly Bill admonishes. Lettin' that little girl leave here like that! Johnny, I ain't got no feeling now over this. You got a chance at love! A chance most of us boys will never get! And you toss it away like a dead poker deal." Curly Bill turns and leaves, shaking his head. He moves to face Johnny one last time. "Iffin' I had an angel like that, I'd never let her go." Curly Bill shakes his head again. "Damn fool! Most men I rode with would kill for a chance to be with her! She's right to leave! Damn fool!"

Johnny stands in shock; pity from people, especially women flowed when Johnny's darkness overtakes him. Your choice to turn and go leaves him speechless. The shame he would normally feel isn't present; something else...Your departure, your words and the harshness in your voice. For the first time, he sees a person, a woman who refuses to tolerate his self hate. He feels challenged... Unsettled... Embarrassed.

He feels like a damn fool. He never should have let you go.

Curly Bill shakes his head and walks back to the chuck wagon. Johnny can hear the big rustler talking, but can't make out the words. A few cowboys look over at Ringo and shake their heads, exchanging confused glances. Some throw their hands up in sheer frustration.

Johnny, who usually swaggers through camp, evoking fear and uncertainty due to his volatile nature suddenly feels weak. He retreats to his tent and drowns his sorrows and loses with a full bottle of whiskey. He removes the cork and tosses it, knowing he'll finish the bottle within a short time.

Johnny begins to feel the effects of the rot gut and feels his eyes grow tired. He takes a breath and feels his throat tighten. Your face appears in his mind and he wipes tears before they can fall.

Once he drains the bottle, he falls asleep.

He relives the moment you rode off. In his dream, he mounts his horse and follows you. He yells your name and finally catches up to you.

Once you both come to a stop, he pulls you onto his animal. "Don't go...I was a fool!"

Then he sees your face twist into anger and frustration and he awakens, kicking the empty whiskey bottle. He hears the crackling of a dying fire and the snoring or farting of his smelly companions. He stumbles towards the chuck wagon and fumbles around for more whiskey. He sloppily tosses things around, not caring about the noise he's creating. He discovers some full bottles of whiskey. He grabs one and indignantly uncorks it, once again throwing the cork aside. He downs some before retreating back to his tent. Johnny moves in a clumsy manner, feeling the weight of shame; his darkness caused him to lose the one person who ever truly cares. Your willingness to work as a waitress, rent a cottage... Tolerate stinky patrons trying to get a rise out of you...All for him.

Johnny Ringo feels such a sense of shame and regret, he doesn't know what to do. His cowboys will admonish him for being a fool, Wyatt Earp proved his point to you and the worst thought...He may never see you again.

You ride fast back to your cottage, Daisy kicking up dust. You suck back to your tears and grow a determination to not let Johnny's brooding rejection get to you.

The wind flows through your unbound hair. The feel of Daisy between your strong thighs feels free and wild, just like your spirit. When you reach your home, you dismount, remove Daisy's saddle and brush her off before preparing grains for her.

"That man!" You groan to your horse. "I won't leave! I won't let him think he got to me like that!" You wipe your tears and stomp up the stairs to your house. You slam the door and lean against the wall. Tears stream down your face and you cover your face while you cry over Johnny Ringo...

"You bastard!" You shout. "After what I did for you!!" You sob, your words coming out slowly. You pick up a tea cup and throw it against the wall. "Son of a bitch!" The cup smashes against the wall. You sink to your knees and allow yourself to fall into your sadness. You release the tension and hurt in your heart.

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