Bronx closed his eyes and dreamed the nightmare in the daylight. He’d not slept a night through in a long time. “I never denied thieving horses, back in Arizona. And truth is, I know that’s a killable offense in many parts. But that ain’t what they in Prescott ached to hang me for.”
“Did you not obtain a fair trial in the territory of Arizona? As I recall, it is a place of great legal distinction. I myself was a designated man of the law.” He smirked again, and Bronx tipped his hat. Even north of the 49th, the gunfight at the OK Corral had earned notoriety and downright respect.
“Sure I did, but the arrest was false at the onset.”
Holliday stretched out long legs, showed off admirable boots. But the face grinning with interest was pale, pasty, like Miz Edith’s uncooked bread dough, eyes ringed with black circles like a forest animal Bronx couldn’t quite name. But the gaze was sharp, knowing. “Please, do explain. It is...unimaginable what juries find themselves believing.”
Bronx was confused. “You sound like you doubt your acquittal?”
A dance hall girl with a blonde bird’s nest of hair and a tight red dress with tail feathers sidled by, but Doc Holliday waved her off. “Certainly not. That was the correct call. I myself was the victim of undue malice. To think I’d threaten to take a man’s life over five mere dollars? Bear in mind—my opponent outweighed me by fifty pounds or more. As you see...” He coughed delicately, “…in spite of my height of some six feet, my disease had wasted my body. I am pleased these days to feel more robust. Back then, it was ambush, pure and simple, by a long-ago enemy.”
Ambush? The word stuck in Bronx’s craw. Ambush, nothing but betrayal. But that was another killing. The one he was running from.
Well, Shandy Brinks, that is.
“But, my dear young friend, yours is the story I long to hear today.”
Bronx sensed then that Holliday was an ally, unwilling to turn him in, yet again, a man one did not cross. Why not tell the tale one more time?
A piano tinkled in the distance but not close enough to mar their conversation.
“Me and my...posse—” Bronx cleared his throat over the somewhat elegant term, “—was in the Prescott way doing...business. One night, and I wasn’t drunk either, I come across a wealthy man beating up a fallen woman he’d paid to pleasure him for a night. Well, pleasure don’t mean getting beat to death. So I pounded him one, knocked him cold.”
Bronx unwound his tense fingers, as if the bone on bone was happening right now. “Marshal came to check out the disturbance, disbelieved both of us, at first. Claimed nobody would aid a harlot over a man of such great repute. But he did his job and started an investigation. Needed to wait some for the fallen angel to awake from the deep sleep caused by the bash to her head.” Bronx blew out hot breath and memories both.
“Well, two days later...” Bronx sounded like he was reciting a school lesson for Miz Edith. No feeling, no fear. No nothing at all “...that very lawman was found dead.”
“Aha.” Doc Holliday nodded. “And you got set up for the killing.’
“Yep. Shot to death with bullets from a gun just like mine.”
“Somebody teaching you a lesson, I fear. Or sending a dire warning.”
Bronx tried to shrug tense shoulders. “I stuck by my story, but I had no alibi. It was my word, the word of a horse thief, against the richest man in the territory. I got accused of a felony murder though I did no such thing. Months later, the saloon girl still hadn’t woke up...”
“Well, you landed a successful escape. There must be someone on your side. Now...” Doc poured more bourbon. “As I see it, you didn’t deserve to get hanged to begin with, and you have got your life back at the end of it. I won’t tell a soul on you.”
Then, the cup in his hand spilled, and Doc began to cough so hard, everyone peeked over.
“Can I help? You need water?”
Doc pushed his beautiful scarf over his mouth, then calmed himself. “Oh, there is no water of life for me, my dear Mr. Sanderson. I was warned against Leadville two miles high as the worst place for a man with a lung disease. But I reckoned this lawless place would speed my end with a bullet. Instead, I find occasional improvements in my strength and the makings of a decent civilization. Not that this place is exempt from problems.”
For some reason, Lila Brewster flashed behind Bronx’s eyelids. Educated and dignified, but ministering to the lost.
“But I am bound for Denver before long. Only one mile of height there so my lungs should be twice as good as here. And I might find the ministrations of a good woman there. Or perhaps I should say, a bad woman. Katie did betray me once.”
“Yet, you want her again?” Just hearing the word sent skitters down his spine.
Doc slouched farther down in his chair. “Well, her brother does have a cabin where I can live.”
Bronx shook his head, then tossed the rest of his drink down his throat. “I know betrayal all too well. I had a woman lie to me plenty. In Alberta. She claimed she was a widow. Then her husband showed up, laid in wait. I shot him dead in self defense. Thought she’d tell the truth about the ambush.”