Death Has Its Price

Chapter 12 – All the Hollidays

The days passed and life went on. Doc Holliday, the real Doc Holliday, worked his way back north in the state of Arizona, checking every small town and watering hole for the missing and presumed dead Bart Maverick. He hadn't been seen or heard from. No one that matched that description had been through there. No one had rescued or taken care of a man that couldn't remember who he was. It was the same in every town, and Doc wondered why he was still humoring Bret. Just when he was about to give up and call it a day a remark, or a joke, or an adventure, would resurrect itself from his liquor addled brain and the hurt he felt for his missing friend would rise like a phoenix from the ashes and push him forward again.

Once in a little town called Whiteriver there was a story about a man badly hurt in a rockslide and Doc thought he might have found something – but the man turned out to be a sixty-year-old sheep farmer. The exhilaration Doc felt for almost twenty-four hours was incredible while he waited for further identification of the survivor. What a coup it would be to find Bart when his own brother couldn't – but when his hopes were dashed all over again it was almost as devastating as waking up the first time he realized his best friend was dead.

Still Doc traveled on, sending an occasional wire to Silver Creek and getting increasingly despondent replies. Whatever disease had attacked Georgia Maverick wasn't going to let go until it did its worst, and some months later it finally succeeded. The telegram Doc got when he was in Winslow didn't surprise him.

Georgia Maverick gone

Staying with Beau and Jody for now

Any word?

Bret

He was sorry to hear about Beau's wife, it seemed the man was really in love and must be devastated at the loss. He was more than ready for Bret to return to Arizona, however, and wasn't thrilled to hear that return was on hold. He was beginning to understand why Bret hadn't wanted Doc to go along on the search; people were more than willing to talk to him until they found out his identity. Like he would really shoot somebody just because they didn't have any information. Well, probably wouldn't shoot somebody.

Then something happened that pulled Doc off the search for several weeks. A drunken cowboy decided one night he was going to be the one man to outdraw the infamous Doc Holliday and forced Doc into a gunfight that he had no interest in. The cowboy, of course, paid with his life, but actually got a shot off before he died and hit Doc in the left leg, causing him to spend almost eight weeks in the virtually unknown hamlet of Walker's Pass, in southern Arizona. Besides going practically stir crazy it forced Doc to stay in one place longer than he had in years. By the time he was ready to travel again, he'd received another telegram from Bret, who'd been gone almost five months.

Returning to Apache Junction

Be there in a week

How's the leg?

Bret

Doc was more than glad to finally hear what he considered to be some good news and made plans to depart for Apache Junction almost immediately. Bret was the only Maverick he had at the moment and he would be delighted to see Bart's brother and go back to doing something productive. He played his last game of poker among the locals in Walker's Pass and started the ride to Apache Junction the next morning. At last, back to the search.

XXXXXXXX

It was a horse race between John and Amy and, as usual, John's gelding Noble outran Amy's mount, Cooper. By the time they got to their usual spot, they were both laughing so hard they almost fell off their horses. Amy dismounted and John slid down off of Noble, who he'd been riding bareback. Almost as soon as John could ride again he'd bonded with Noble, who appreciated the fact that his rider preferred going saddleless as often as possible.

As far as normal went, their ride out to the abandoned mine was an almost daily occurrence. They'd found a place that no one seemed to know about but them, and they visited frequently so they could spend unrestricted time together. They were like two teenagers in love for the first time and passed most of their days together in one venue or another.

Amy couldn't remember every being this happy, and John – well, John didn't remember much before the rockslide. She giggled and ran, and he chased her and caught her at the mouth of the mine. Sometimes it was enough to just stand and hold each other, knowing that there were no prying eyes anywhere in the vicinity watching their every move. This was one of those days, and Amy held on to John as tightly as he held her. Finally Cooper whinnied, and the would-be lovers laughed and stepped apart.

John pulled the blanket down that served as Amy's bedroll and spread it under the pine trees near the mine entrance. They sat down and enjoyed the fact that today was cooler than the other days this week had been; autumn was coming and even the daytime temperatures had begun to cool. He stretched out on the blanket, watching the wisps of clouds in the sky above, and Amy snuggled against his good arm and sighed.

"Something bothering you?" he asked innocently.

She hesitated before answering him. "My father," she finally revealed.

"Nothing wrong with Gage, is there?"

"Other than the fact that he wants to know what I do every minute of the day, no."

"He's your father, Amy. He wants to make sure you haven't fallen in with a criminal. Me."

"You're not a criminal."

"Hmm, that's debatable. According to gossip, I'm a heartless, mean-spirited, gunslinger who kills for no good reason."

"That's not true. You always have a good reason."

He leaned on his elbow and looked down at her. "Aren't you funny? You've been spending too much time with me. My sense of humor is infecting you."

"Yes, and that's not all that's infecting me. What are you doing all the way up there?"

She reached up a hand and put it on the back of his neck, pulling his head down to her and they kissed, slowly and sweetly. It went on like that for a few minutes and then he pulled back from her. "When are you going to town next?"

"Why?"

"Because it's time I go in with you."

They hadn't been in town together yet; Amy worried that someone would see John and challenge Doc to a gunfight. Something had been itching at him for weeks and he wanted to sit in a poker game a little more challenging than the Friday night match played in the bunkhouse. "Tomorrow," she finally answered, and waited for his lips to return to hers.

But they didn't. He had something else on his mind and not even the nearness of her warm and willing lips could distract him. "What is it?" she asked, and it took several minutes before he gazed down at her and replied.

"I need some more clothes," he told her.

"What kind of clothes?"

"Proper clothes. I'm a gambler, Amy, among other things. That's how I make my living, and I haven't been doing much of that for quite a while. I need to look like a gambler, not like I just fell off a steer. It's time I did some shopping for myself."

"Is that all? I thought it was something important."

He pulled away from her and sat up. "That is important."

"I meant important to us."

"Again, it is important to us. I'm not going to continue living off of your family, Amy, I'm well enough to go back to work. My work. Which is gambling. If you don't like it, I can find someplace else to stay."

He hadn't meant it to come out sounding like a threat, but it did. And once the words had been said, they both wished they hadn't. She did her best to downplay the disagreement.

"Of course you can go with me. I need to do some shopping myself. If we leave early enough we can shop, get the supplies, and have supper in town."

"Good. That'll be fine." He looked back down at her, and the smiling, playful John Holliday was back. "Now where was I?" he asked as he leaned in for another kiss.