Author's note: While there will be a lot of historical references in this story, it is NOT historically accurate. Don't take it as such. It WILL contain a slash element (Doc/Wyatt) that will get lemony in later chapters. Don't like, don't read. In fact, please don't read, and especially don't comment. I'm not your huckleberry. Repeat, I'm NOT your huckleberry!


Doc was fairly indifferent about John Shanssey, but he had a fondness for his Bee Hive saloon. It was there, improving his game of Faro in the smokey bar room, that he first laid eyes on Mary Katherine Horony. She'd been born and bred in Hungary, but come to America as a child, and had almost no perceptible accent. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the room, but had an appearance that promised to age well, along with a sturdy figure, and a sizeable beak that put some men off her visage. But not Doc. As a matter of fact, he counted it as a point in her favor that she took no offense to the monicker "Big Nose Kate." She was the most independent woman he had ever met, and he liked that too.

Knowing he was certain to die young, Doc had never courted or thought of marriage. He had no desire to leave a widow behind. Any suitable young woman would be wiser to choose someone in good health, and he would not deceive such a person out of selfishness. But, when he had lived out his projected life expectancy to the fullest (and then some), he began to wonder whether his uncle and other physicians had underestimated the length and quality of life he might have in this more suitable climate. Still, he dared not ask any trusting soul to attempt to build a life with him. The notion of leaving a widow with young children and no husband and father to support them was unthinkable.

But Kate was no trusting young innocent girl. She was a year older than Doc, and had already gained herself a bit of a reputation as a dance hall girl who would occasionally sell a night of pleasure, if she needed the money and felt so inclined. She was tough-no one pushed her around-but she had ample feminine charm. Although gentlement did not typically permit women (of any stripe) to hang around the tables while they were gambling, Doc saw her more as a kindred spirit than a nuisance. The men he played with likewise showed no annoyance at her presence, and little by little they struck up an acquaintance.

Doc's feeling of kinship with Kate grew when he learned that her parents had died when she was fifteen, the same age he had been when he lost his mother. Though his Presbyterian upbringing told him to "beware of the strange woman," his defenses melted away when the woman in question was Kate. She may have made some flirtatious comments now and again, but nothing that he would call downright inappropriate. She did ask about his cough after a while, which he did not like to discuss, but there was no point in trying to make a secret of it.

"It's the consumption," he said simply, doing his best to ignore the varying reactions of the other players at the table. "I was diagnosed in seventy-three. In fact, I was not expected to live this long, but I guess I've managed to cheat death so far."

"See that you don't cheat anyone else," one of the other gentlemen interjected, coaxing a little mirth back into the conversation.

After that, instead of being put off, Kate came by Doc's table more often. When he indicated that he might get up for something, she offered to go in his place.

"That's very kind of you," he told her the first time. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But this way, you won't have to miss any of your game. Stay right there." And she patted his shoulder and off she went.

She did not make such offers for the other gentlemen, so Doc surmised that although she didn't say so, it was because of his illness that she paid him this attention. He wanted to resent it as unwanted pity, but he felt grateful for it instead. Having been away from family and close friends most of the last few years, it felt nice to have someone fuss over him.

It wasn't until there was a dance in town and Kate invited Doc to escort her that he realized she might have another angle for paying him some extra attention.

"You want me... to take you to the dance?"

"Is there some reason you should not?" she challenged him.

Doc felt uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than he had yet felt in her presence. "Well... for one thing, there's my cough," he said. "It gets worse with exertion, and I'd be sure to spoil every dance for you."

"I don't care about that, as long as it's not a danger to you."

"I have to admit, I'm not certain in that regard."

"But there's something else holding you back."

Now he couldn't look her in the eye. He did have other reasons, but he couldn't bring himself to voice them.

"You don't wish to be seen with a lady of the evening."

He lifted his eyes to hers, mouth open to protest, but she had hit the nail on the head, much harder than he would have if he had ventured to put it into words. He had had some trouble when he lived in Texas before, having been fined for illegal gambling and gotten into a scuffle or two. This time around, he had thus far maintained a better reputation, and he was hoping it would stay that way. "I..."

"It's all right," she said, smoothing over the awkward moment with a carefree smile. "I would not wish to bring any unfavorable talk down on you, Mister Holliday."

He swallowed and looked at the ground. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he said, feeling worse as the words came out.

"Please don't give it another thought. We can be friends though, can't we?"

"Yes... sure," he said, perking up a little. She seemed truly not to be offended.

"Good."

So, things went on as they had before until one night, Doc was unexpectedly caught outside in a sudden storm. His exposure to wind and rain led to a terrible bout of coughing, and he ducked into Shanssey's saloon for a shot of whiskey to help alleviate it.

Kate was there, and she went to him at once, helping him to a seat at the bar and ordering the whiskey before he even had a chance to ask for it.

The shot aided his recovery enough for him to say, "Another, please," as he laid on the counter enough money to cover the two shots.

"You'd better sit here until the storm blows out," the bartender said.

Doc nodded. He felt better after the second shot, but still coughed frequently.

Kate stayed with him while he waited out the storm, and they exchanged more details of their lives than they had previously. Doc was grateful for the company and found himself drawn to Kate. He wished his association with her did not hold so much potential for gossip. He was sure she could be a fine, upstanding woman if she had the means. Although, it did seem that she chose to keep prostitution as an option by choice, and not purely out of necessity.

Finally, the wind died down and the rain slowed to a drizzle. Doc declared that he would be going.

"I'll walk with you and make sure you get home all right," Kate said, immediately pulling her shawl around her shoulders.

"You don't have to do that," Doc said, holding back a cough.

"I just got done telling you, I do what I want and go where I want. Right now, I want to see you home, and so I shall."

He had no argument, so he held out his arm.


More author's notes:

Do I have other stories I should be working on instead? Yeah, probably. Is this a weird time to be writing a Tombstone fic when everyone else in the world is probably so over that movie? Yeah, probably. Let's just say this is overdue and leave it at that. If you're actually reading, you are my huckleberry and I would love to hear from you. It will motivate me to update soon. Thank you so much!