I can't believe I haven't mentioned this yet, but whenever I start a new document, I have a laugh because I have to click "Doc Manager" and I always think to myself, "No one manages Doc."
In Tombstone, Doc is about an inch taller than Wyatt. I'm deviating from the movie on this point. Historically, Wyatt was probably a couple of inches taller than Doc.
Tim McClay is another made-up baddie.
Off duty at last, Wyatt went to the Custom House to talk to James. He knew his elder brother to be a cautious fellow, so he did his best to sound optimistic about the transport job, but that may have worked against him. James knew him too well.
"Doc has met Jackson before," Wyatt said. "He's a tough man all right, but he'll be in leg irons."
"Doc Holliday's say-so doesn't carry much weight around here," James said, looking at something over Wyatt's shoulder. "I've actually been a little worried about you spending so much time with him. He doesn't have the best reputation."
"Doc's all right," Wyatt insisted. "He's not in any trouble with the law right now, and he's been a good citizen since coming to Dodge. You shouldn't listen to the rumors about him - he's just not very personable on first acquaintance. That's nothing to dislike a man for."
"All right," James relented. "I'll take your word for now."
"Good. Because he offered to be our third man for this job."
"You trust him?"
"He saved my life, Jim."
"So you say."
Someone sat on Wyatt's right, setting a half-empty whiskey bottle and glass down with quiet thunks.
James looked at the newcomer. "Doc, Wyatt tells me you've met this Colorado Bob character."
A little surprised, Wyatt turned toward Doc.
"You think it's worth carting his hide from the Colorado state line up to Denver?" James asked.
"Not really," Doc replied. "But I can't talk the boy out of it."
Boy? Wyatt thought. Is he just being patronizing, or does he really think I'm that young?
He came back to the conversation when James said, "I don't fancy facing an army, Wyatt."
"It won't be an army," Wyatt said. "Doc's just laying out the worst possibility. Jackson will spend the night in our jail tomorrow night. I'll have plenty of time to question him and get an idea of what we can expect."
"If you can get the truth out of him."
Doc is good at picking out the truth... Wyatt looked at Doc. "How good are you at spotting a man's tell?"
"Damn good," Doc said. "It's the reason I'm still alive. That twitch that tells me a man's about to go for his gun... it's the same one he makes when he's bluffing at the poker table."
"All right. You'll observe when I question him and tell me what he's lying about."
James looked skeptical.
"It'll probably work," said Doc. "But even if I can tell you he's lying, that won't mean we know what the truth is."
"But it will give us a good idea of it," said Wyatt. He looked Doc over. Another reason Doc was good at spotting a liar was because he himself was practiced at deceit. As a matter of fact, he might just have a secret right now. That night at the Long Branch, Doc had not checked his weapons. Had he tonight?
Doc was returning his stare, blinking slowly in a way that made Wyatt want to keep looking until it happened again.
"Did you check your weapons when you came in here?" Wyatt asked.
Doc nodded toward the gun rack. "My revolver's hangin' right over yonder." It was neither a confirmation nor a denial.
After a moment's hesitation, Wyatt decided that he and Doc were familiar enough for a little forwardness. He laid a hand on Doc's side and immediately found something that felt suspiciously like a small-caliber gun. "And what's this, a hernia?" he asked dryly.
Smirking, Doc said, "You know I'm a sick man, Wyatt. I'm at a terrible disadvantage. I need the means to defend myself, should trouble arise."
Feeling a little empowered by Doc's lack of protest, Wyatt didn't remove his hand right away. He kept eye contact. "Maybe trouble will arise because you don't follow the rules."
"I didn't see the hint of a tell on you," James put in, sounding a bit admiring.
Right, James. Wyatt withdrew his hand.
"Comes of bein' a compulsive liar," Doc told James. "Once your conscience doesn't bother you anymore, and you're as used to telling lies as the truth, they become almost one and the same. Besides, I wasn't lying. Just misdirecting."
Hell, you could be lying about being a compulsive liar and I'd probably believe you, Wyatt thought.
"But Wyatt still caught you," said James.
"I had a good hunch," said Wyatt.
Having made his point about what a good team he and Doc could make in interrogating Jackson, he said, "We'll get the truth out of Jackson. Then we'll make our decision. If it's too risky, Denver will just have to send someone out to meet the transport themselves."
"Fine," said James. He took a deep breath and then huffed it out. "Now, do you care to explain the story I saw in the Times today?"
"What story?" asked Wyatt.
James showed Wyatt his copy of the Dodge Times. "It says Frankie Bell 'heaped epithets' on your head, enough to provoke you into slapping her?"
"On his unoffending head," Doc put in. He almost sounded like Virgil, sticking up for Wyatt when James and Newton were accusing him of doing something stupid.
Wyatt didn't want to discuss this at the moment. "Uh..." He adjusted his collar. "I'll explain it to you later, Jim."
"Should be a very interesting story," James said with a doubtful expression.
Wyatt reported to the jail early, not wanting to miss anything when the stagecoach arrived from Wichita. Right on time, the wagon rolled into town, accompanied by four mounted soldiers, two ahead and two behind.
Charlie Bassett met them himself and walked the prisoner over to the jail along with the soldier detail.
Wyatt opened the door for them and got his first look at Robert Jackson. He was big and well-muscled, just as Doc had indicated. He looked two or three inches taller than Wyatt, which meant he would tower over Doc.
Jackson gave Wyatt a mean look as he shuffled past on his way to a cell. Wyatt held his ground, but the look was intimidating. For a moment, he doubted his plan. Maybe Doc was right and they needed a fourth man. But that would mean splitting the money further, and that just wasn't palatable.
When Jackson was put away, Charlie thanked the soldiers, who confirmed that the fresh squad would pick up the prisoner in the morning.
"Mister Earp here is thinking of coming after the stage and escorting Jackson the rest of the way," Charlie told the sergeant in charge. "He's got a couple of men interested in completing the transport with him."
"I hope they're good men," the sergeant answered, looking at Wyatt. "Jackson made a few attempts to escape on the way from Wichita, including throwing himself out of the coach while it was moving. He's a desperate man that needs constant minding."
"You think they'll hang him in Denver?" Wyatt asked.
"Very likely. He killed a woman up there and wounded a couple of lawmen. If he doesn't hang, he'll go to prison for a long time."
"Did you see any sign of his gang along the way?"
"Fortunately not. But that doesn't mean they won't show up to try to break him out of your pen tonight, or try something along the trail tomorrow."
Wyatt nodded. "Well, thanks for getting him this far. You go get some well-earned rest."
"Mister Jackson, I want to ask you a few questions," Wyatt said, pulling a chair up by the bars of the cell.
From his place sitting on the edge of his bunk, Jackson nodded at Doc, who was leaning on the wall behind Wyatt. "What's he doing here?"
"I pretty the place up," Doc quipped. And it wasn't untrue - with his handsome green waistcoat, he was the most colorful thing in the jail.
"First, I want to know where you were heading when the law caught up to you in Wichita," Wyatt said.
"None o' your business," Jackson snapped. "I don't have to tell you anything."
"No, you don't. But if you want to get to Denver safe and sound to stand trial, you might want to cooperate."
"Why you... are you threatening me?"
"Not at all. Just trying to reason with you."
"If I tell you what you wanna know, can you get me off o' that murder charge?"
Wyatt shook his head. "I'm afraid even I couldn't swing that for you."
"Who are you, anyway?"
"Why, Mister Jackson," Doc exclaimed in a scandalized tone, "I'm surprised at you. You don't know the face of Wyatt Earp? He's the man that licked Wichita before you got there to challenge it."
"John Law himself, huh?" Jackson grunted. "Just my luck."
"I can try putting in a good word for your cooperation," said Wyatt. "But you're going to have to behave better on the next two legs of the trip. The sergeant told us you tried to escape a couple of times. You're lucky they didn't shoot you."
"Bet they'd have liked that."
"Well, lucky for you, I like to avoid violence if I can. So, can we work something out?"
"Maybe. I figured on going to Kansas City after Wichita. Maybe winter there. Only that damn Meaghan spoiled that notion. Looks like I'll spend the winter in jail. If I'm lucky."
"What about your boys? Were they going to winter in KC, too?"
Jackson scowled. "Me an' the boys parted ways. If I needed 'em for a cattle drive or some other job, I'd be able to find 'em, sure. But I don't know where they are right now."
"I'm sure they've heard of your incarceration by now."
"Maybe they have. So what?"
"You think they'll try to spring you?"
He huffed. "With the great Wyatt Earp on duty and Charlie Bassett here to boot? They wouldn't take a risk like that for me."
"What about en route?"
"Naw, they won't try anything."
Wyatt thought Jackson had answered a little too quickly. He looked back at Doc.
Doc's expression gave little away, but when he met Wyatt's gaze, he winked.
Wyatt turned back to Jackson. "Mister Jackson, I don't think you're being entirely honest with me. Now, I can't stop them from hanging you in Denver if a jury convicts you, but a good word from me might stop you from being lynched and get you a better shot at a fair trial. I think you'd do better to be straight with me."
After a minute of fidgeting from Jackson and impassive staring from the other two men, the former finally got up and approached the bars.
Wyatt stood and faced him.
"If they found out I'm in trouble and they decide to do something about it, Tim McClay will head them up. He's no genius, but he ain't stupid either. He'll find out all he can before tryin' anything - that much you can be sure of from the simple fact they ain't tried nothin' yet."
"Double negative," Doc murmured.
He went on, but Wyatt ignored him. "When would they try something?"
"My guess is they'd wait until the soldiers done their part," said Jackson. "Once the law transport sees the last of them, that's when Tim would make his move."
"How many?"
Jackson shrugged. "Tim wouldn't try it without at least three others. He'd get more if he could find them. You'll be outgunned for sure. Probably should just let Denver send for me."
"You don't even know how many men I'm taking," Wyatt pointed out. He could feel Doc's eyes on him. Almost hear him saying, "Not enough, Wyatt." He pushed the thought down. "I meant what I said - if you behave yourself, I'll put in a good word for you."
"Sure, I'll behave," Jackson said in a way that didn't sound compliant at all. "But you gotta understand, Earp: if my boys do show up and plug you, I'd just be ungrateful not to go along with 'em."
"Right," Wyatt said insincerely. "Let's go, Doc."
Wyatt and Doc keep getting closer and closer to the same wavelength. They're bonding over thugs. xD But their plan is sounding like a worse idea all the time... will they still go? (Of course they will!)
