Thanks for sticking with it! I didn't expect to get this one up so quickly, but I had some free time... well, I was procrastinating on something else. xD Anyway. Enjoy Wyatt's point of view for a change.

1863

Nicholas Earp was full of righteous indignation. His fourth child was causing him almost more trouble than he was worth. After a word with a helpful station master, he found his son skulking within sight of the railway platform, waiting his chance to climb aboard a southbound train.

"Wyatt. Berry. Stapp. Earp."

The fifteen-year-old turned slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might cause the dragon crouched before him to spring and devour him. "P-Pa..."

Nicholas caught Wyatt by the collar. "Do you have any idea the hell you're putting your mother through? Not to mention all the work you've left for your younger brothers because you're so damn selfish... I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life! Just where do you think you're going?"

Panicky and feebly trying to tug out of his father's grasp, Wyatt said, "Aw, Pa! You know I just wanna help Newt, James and Virg! You even named me after an army man. I can kill them rebs sure as they can. I'm big enough."

"You ain't big enough to lick me, your old man. And besides, James is coming home. We just got word he was wounded in Missouri."

"What?" Wyatt stopped struggling. "Is it bad?"

"Sounds pretty bad. If you're not home to meet him, I'll be ashamed of you, son. You don't live up to the name of my commanding officer. He wouldn't run off when his family needed him."

Wyatt hung his head. "Could... could you give me my lickin' before we get home? I don't want Morgan and Warren to hear."

"I'll do you that courtesy. Now, come on."

1878

Once he made sure the troublemakers were truly on their way, Wyatt went back into the saloon. There was no immediate sign of Doc; Wyatt found him tucked away at the back, dealing a Faro game.

He stepped between players and held out his hand to Doc. "Thanks, Doc. Things could have gone south real fast if you hadn't stepped in."

Doc eyed Earp askance. "A turn of phrase not well suited for addressing a southern man."

The war had ended more than a decade ago, but Wyatt had certainly not forgotten the severity of James's injury, or his own passionate desire to join the Union army. He let his hand fall. "Anyway... I appreciate your help."

"Always glad to assist in matters of the law. As you may recall."

Southerner or not, Doc had now done him two favors. "Yes. The information you gave me in Fort Griffin was helpful."

Doc nodded. "Is that all?"

Wyatt looked around at the other men. He felt a little out of his depth at this point. He wanted the chance to pay Doc back for the good turn he'd done him, but he also felt that beginning with a bit of a faux pas had put him on bad footing. He needed to tread carefully. He pushed his hat back. "I wouldn't mind joining your game, if that's all right."

"This is Faro, Mister Earp. Anyone may join or leave at any time." He sounded neither friendly nor hostile.

"Right..." Wyatt glanced at the table and then studied the case to get his bearings. Suddenly, he realized that all four nines had been played. Someone had a bet on nine...

He turned to take the chip from the nine card, but Doc snatched it up himself, saying, "Dead bet."

Wyatt froze in place for a moment and then smiled and shook his head. Doc had called it first, whether he'd seen it first or not. "Well spotted, Doc."

The player who lost his money groaned.

"Should have seen it earlier," Doc muttered. "Are you going to place a bet now, Mister Earp?"

Wyatt produced a penny and laid it on the five card.

Doc turned the cards over slowly and deliberately. "Losing card, number ten. Winning card... number two."

No one had a bet on either denomination, and Doc reached over to update the case. "Any new bets, folks?"

Wyatt knew that he had the best chance of winning a bet if he chose numbers that were still plentiful in the deck. However, he was also more likely to lose his bet by the same methodology. He avoided choosing both the rarest and the most common cards in the deck, and as the night wore on, his bets neither won nor lost him any money at all. When the game was down to three cards, he was still playing with the same penny.

Doc shook his head and gave Wyatt a smile. "That's a daisy of a penny you have there, Mister Earp. For better or worse, it's done you no wrong tonight. Care to wager it on the last three?"

"Odds are what... one in six?" Wyatt asked.

"That's right. It pays four times your wager if you get it." He lifted his eyes to Wyatt's again. "And you're a daisy if you do it."

Wyatt stared back, searching for a tell. He didn't think Doc was going to try to cheat him, but he liked the fact that he hadn't won or lost at all, and any bet on the final round would certainly change that. "I think I'll hang onto this penny. It might just be lucky for me."

"But not lucky enough to be the one in six?"

"That's the idea."

A smile tugged at the corners of Doc's mouth. "Well, thank you for playing, Mister Earp. I do hope you'll play again."

After that night at the Long Branch, Wyatt started hanging around Doc's Faro games. He rarely played, usually choosing just to watch. He would scrutinize Doc's method, not particularly planning to call him out should he suspect cheating. On the contrary, Wyatt was interested in learning to become a shrewd banker himself.

"Mister Earp, I'm sure we're all the better for your good company," Doc said one evening, "but I surely wish you'd place a bet if you're going to take up room at the table."

"You're being silly, Doc," Wyatt replied.

Doc appeared to be brought up short by that. "Oh, I am?"

"You saved my life. You should call me Wyatt."

Doc's proverbial bristles relaxed. "In that case, you may call me John. Now, Wyatt: bet or move."

Wyatt chuckled and moved aside, making room for someone more eager to risk his money. He leaned against the wall beside Doc. Doc's frequent companion Kate, reputed to be his wife, was serving as coffin keeper. Wyatt wondered what the group of gamblers would say if he came to the table with Mattie Blaylock on his arm. By all accounts, Kate's reputation wasn't any better than Mattie's, except perhaps for being tougher. She had come to Dodge with Doc from Texas, and despite her checkered past appeared to be quite devoted to Doc.

Mattie wasn't at all devoted to Wyatt, but he was working on her. He guessed she was a better prospect than Sarah had been. Sarah was just a fling, really. Her claiming to be his wife had been a spur of the moment decision as an effort to avoid more severe legal charges when Walton's floating brothel got raided. It was a vain effort. Wyatt had certainly had some wild adventures before becoming a lawman in Dodge.

He thought back to his childhood attempts to join the union army and wondered how offended Doc would be if he knew. Mattie and Doc were currently the most interesting elements in his life, and he didn't want to see that spoiled. He had learned discreetly that Doc had also been too young to join the confederate army, and as far as anyone knew, he had never tried to. That much was a point in his favor. Perhaps, if they truly became friends, they would be able to have a respectful conversation on the topic, but for now he would let it lie.

Around nine-thirty, Wyatt said good night to Doc, Kate, and the other men at the table. He moved to the bar, where Mattie was halfheartedly flirting with another man. When she saw Wyatt, she quickly made an excuse to leave the man's company. It was flattering to Wyatt that he clearly had her preference.

"Evening, Mister Earp."

"Evening, Miss Blaylock. May I buy you a drink?"

She shook her head. "I'm looking for something stronger than liquor."

"That so?" She wasn't extremely clever, but just enigmatic enough to be charming. Wyatt had himself two fingers of whiskey to bolster his confidence and then offered Mattie his hand. "Suppose we go and find you something stronger than liquor, then."

She took his hand, and they went across the street and upstairs to a small room furnished with little more than a bed.

Wyatt had been planning this moment for weeks now. There was just one unpleasant element to it, and he determined to get it out of the way immediately. "What'll I owe you for this pleasure?"

She gave him an appraising look and then reached up to remove his hat. "For you... two dollars even."

It wasn't bad, considering, but he suspected it wasn't a discount. He took out his wallet and gave her two paper dollars, which she put away in a drawer before returning to him. Efficiently, the two of them got him out of his tie, his jacket, his vest, and his shirt.

She didn't talk a lot, and that was fine with him. He wanted to get to know her better, but that could be done anywhere. Just now, he was much more interested in the hands sliding over his chest and the lips whispering along his neck than in making conversation.

Knowing it to be a point of distinction for some ladies of her profession, he asked, "Is it all right if I kiss you?"

She responded by planting one firmly on his mouth.

He smiled into the kiss and wound his arms around her. This was a good idea. I'll make her mine, all right.

I found an article that said a prostitute could cost between $.50 and $10.00, depending on demand. I figure Dodge probably had quite a few available, so the price wouldn't be on the high end. $2.00 would be something like $45 today. Pretty affordable for Wyatt, I think.

Let's be honest, Wyatt is a bit of a cad. Far from an oak. LOL I can't be too hard on the dog though... his first wife was young when he lost his apparent sweetheart and unborn child. Wyatt's own father had performed the wedding ceremony. It's not too surprising that he became a bit jaded and descended into the lowest levels of debauchery after her death. He ended up being accused (probably rightly so) of embezzlement and horse stealing and became a wanted man for a while. His family must have been rather embarrassed of him during that time. But hey, family is family.

Thank you so much for reading.