Standard Disclaimer: I'm borrowing real historical people, and making up a few to fill things out. I own very little, but you are very welcome to sue me for my debt to my graduate school. In fact, save the lawyer costs, I'll give it to you for the asking.
You Had to Know
By Rebel Yell
Some have said that it was all Doc's fault - hell, I've had a few good friends blame him for the mess down in Arizona. He was an easy target, a quiet man, private and a natural loner, who got a reputation based mostly on rumor, blatant lies, and flashes of temper that frightened most everyone who saw them. He could never really decide who he was back there in Kansas, Arizona, even Colorado. Part of him was the reputation, all mean-tempered and prickly with a streak of drunk in him that made him about as predictable as a prairie twister. Part of him was a generally amiable gambler, friendly and talkative, flashing his prosperity with all the flash of a professional. There was a quiet part of him too, maybe the part that made him a dentist, a part that liked to help people when he could - underneath it all he was a law-and-order type as much as my brothers and I. He never talked much about growing up years, but I reckon he craved order as much as the rest of us, having lived through what must have been disordered times down in Georgia. And yet, for all that, there was a puckish sarcastic humor in him, a teasing quality - he was a little brother who bit harder than Morgan but with as much affection as my brother by blood.
Bat didn't help much with folks opinion of Doc, but then they didn't need much help. He was sensitive, more than most folks thought, and he was hurt by the headlines and the stories that painted him a monster and a murderer. He was a dentist by trade, a gentleman by training and a gentle man by general disposition. I read a book recently put me in mind of Doc though, about a doctor who had a whole different man inside of him, a monster that come out sometimes and did things the doctor never could. Doc's temper was a bit like that - his moods were hard to predict and sometimes violent, but rare really. Bat's writing about him said he had a "mean-disposition…and was prone to both drinking and quarrelling" and folks who never met Doc take that as Bible truth. He drank more than most, but Doc considered it a sort of cough-medicine, kept his chest from hurting and his cough from being so noticeable. That's how I knew, already in New Mexico, that the ride after Morgan's killers was killing Doc. He started drinking more heavily, and he got mouthy like he always did when he was drunk. Easily goaded into a quarrel and likely to finish it rather than walk away. He'd been better, in Tombstone, stopped coughing so much and you could almost pretend he wasn't dying every minute of every day.
He was a good friend. Hell, even Bat admitted that was God's honest truth. Virgil never much cared for Doc's "influence" in things -- he was a bit of a drunk, like I said, and couldn't have walked away from a fight for all the money in the West -- but he liked him well enough, as a friend. Morgan and Doc were close, about the same age and enjoyed most of the same sorta things. I always sorta figured Doc, without the consumption, woulda been more like Morgan. Maybe that's why it hit Doc so hard, Morg's death. I reckon Doc always figured he'd be the first to go, not one of us boys. Mattie thought Doc was the most charmin' fella she ever met -- he had that way with the women of the family. All them southern manners, sure did put on the airs when he wanted. Latin and French and a whole helluva a lot more stuff that no one else hardly knew in Tombstone. Well, not the types of people who spent their time round our types of people, at any rate. Ringo knew a bit, Doc told me later Ringo's pronunciation was dreadful he must've learned a few lines from a book is all, whatever the hell that means. Before he got sick, Doc would have been the uptown type too, I suppose. You got him drunk enough, he'd tell you all about his awards for his false teeth and stuff, how he'd been courtin' all sorts of girls back in Atlanta, and he even showed me a letter from his cousin, the nun. Who'd ever think Doc's closest kin would be a nun? He wasn't even Catholic. Course, his father was still alive, but Doc never much talked about him. I reckon he never quite forgave him for getting hitched up again.
Doc's got this reputation though, see. I've seen it told where he had fifty kills, even in places like Nevada and California and the Dakotas. He never was in any of them places, and even Doc couldn't kill someone from a whole other territory. He knifed Ed Bailey that once -- I ain't sure exactly if Bailey died, I never heard about it from Doc himself. He shot a coupla men long the way, but aside from Tom McLaury, Doc didn't ever kill a man. 'Course, Doc gets blamed for starting that fight down in Tombstone, but that's lies. Me and Billy shot first - I hit Frank, Billy missed me. Doc had that shotgun, and it's just plain foolish to think he was firing a pistol with one hand and a shotgun in the other. Thing damn near knocked him over as it was. He hated shotguns. I had Virgil give him the damn thing hopin' it'd scare the shit outta the Cowboys. Everyone in town knew he wasn't gonna be afraid to pull the trigger. He did too, killed Tom who was reaching for the rifle on his horse. Maybe Doc wasn't the best man to take along, considering his fightin with Ike the night before, but Virg and I knew damn sure that Doc wouldn't cut and run. Hell, I think he spent half his life hoping someone would fair beat him in a gunfight. He was too proud to let 'em win, of course, but he was looking for his daisy.
Not sure what else there is to say about Doc. He was my friend. He saved my life once in Dodge -- reckon I owed him for that. He rode with me for Morg's killers, and stood with us boys when we needed him. He made me laugh -- had the damnedest sense of humor. He saddled up whenever Virg or I needed him to join a posse. He played the piano, when drunk, and he knew some great tunes but mostly played quiet, sad shit by some guy named Fred something. Doc woulda called me on that -- he hated it when folks couldn't appreciate 'culture'. I reckon there was two men in that one body though, the more I think on it. I was friend to both. There was Doc, the gambler, the fighter, the drunk and the fella who could swear better'n just about anybody I ever heard. Then there was John, the dentist and the charming southern boy, the piano-player and the quiet man who sat in the corner, never botherin anyone who didn't bother him. Tell truth, I ain't sure if I didn't like Doc better'n John. He was more my kinda folks. Still, I suppose to really understand Doc, you had to know John too.