I had to change the days a bit because I realized I had Doc seeing patients and then drinking and gambling on Sunday. I don't know exactly how the laws were at that time, but it occurred to me that the saloons probably weren't allowed to open on Sunday, and in fact all businesses might have shut down for the "sabbath." So I moved Wyatt's big date to Thursday, Frankie Bell's explosion to Saturday, and here we are on Sunday. But that suits my purpose fine, as you will see.


Doc leaned on the wall and watched Wyatt pull a chair up to the bars of the cell.

Jackson nodded at Doc. "What's he doing here?"

"I pretty the place up," Doc supplied.

Wyatt ignored the exchange and started in with his questions.

Doc kept quiet until Jackson said, "Who are you, anyway?"

"Why, Mister Jackson," Doc exclaimed, "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."

Doc smiled a little, pleased that he had succeeded in making an impression on Wyatt's behalf.

Wyatt went on with his questions, finally getting to the important points.

"You think they'll try to spring you?"

Jackson 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." He said it too quickly. His honesty had been questionable before, but now Jackson was clearly lying.

Wyatt looked back at Doc.

Yes, boy. He's lying. Doc 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. His stance was relaxed.

"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 pointed out quietly. "It'd be different if we were speakin' Greek or French, but English? Hell, even in Latin you'd be in trouble..."

"When would they try something?" Wyatt asked while Doc was still rambling.

"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.

Doc stared at Wyatt's shoulders. Not enough, Wyatt.

"I meant what I said," Wyatt went on, "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. "Let's go, Doc."

Doc pushed off the wall and followed Wyatt out into the marshal's office. He waited impatiently while Wyatt told Masterson what they had learned. The younger lawman was avoiding eye contact with Doc, which he attributed to the dental visit.

They finally went outside, and Doc said, "It's a fool's errand, Wyatt."

"How bad can McClay and the others be?" Wyatt said.

"Optimist."

"Pessimist."

"Let's see what James has to say."

Wyatt sighed and muttered, "The pacifist."

Doc was getting a little irritated. "I'm not afraid of a little trouble. But this is sounding like a whole mess o' trouble. We ought to have a fourth man, and that would make our take two-fifty each at best."

"We're not adding a fourth man."

"You're loco."

"I know the country we'll be going through."

"I doubt you know it better than McClay does."

They kept arguing until they located James outside the Dodge House and filled him in.

"I'm with Holliday on this," James said. "It's too risky."

"We won't take the main road from the border," Wyatt declared. "We'll use Indian trails. They're a little rockier, but we won't raise a cloud of dust they can see for miles. Maybe we can avoid them altogether."

"And what if we run into the folk who made the trails?" asked Doc.

"I'll talk to them."

"You don't speak Comanche, last I knew," said James.

"No, but I've met a few."

"Well, with credentials like that, I'm sure they'll be happy to let us run all over their territory," Doc said sarcastically.

Wyatt glared daggers at him. "Look, they've been peaceful for years now. And if we're lucky, McClay won't expect us to avoid the main road."

"And if we're unlucky, it's what he'll do too," said James.

That was when a woman, whom Doc had seen a few times and assumed was James's wife, sidled up. "What are you boys arguing about?" she asked.

"It's that transport job I told you about," James said.

"Doctor John Holliday," Doc said, giving the lady a winning smile.

"Nellie Ketchum Earp," she answered, extending her hand. "But you may call me Bessie, Doc."

He shook her hand. "I'm right proud to know you, ma'am."

"Sorry... I should have introduced you," James muttered.

"No worry," Doc said. "Since we have a bit of a party, shall we find a place to sit and talk?"

"We were going to have lunch in the hotel," said Bessie. "Won't you join us?"

So, they went in to the dining room and sat down to eat together. They discussed the details and difficulties of the transport plan, and Bessie listened to all of it with interest.

"You shouldn't take him on horseback," Bessie said. "It would be too easy for him to get away from you, even with handcuffs. You need to keep his leg irons on if possible. That means you'll need a buckboard."

"But we can't take the Indian trails if we're hauling a wagon," said Wyatt.

"How about this," said Doc. "We hitch saddle horses to the buckboard and take the extra tack with us. That way we can abandon it and take to the trails if we need to. Versatility has won many a battle."

"That's a good idea."

"Wait," said James. "Doc, I thought you were on my side."

"I was... I am," Doc said, stiffening his resolve.

Wyatt groaned. "Come on, you two. What do I have to do to get you to go for it? I'll call you cowards."

Doc narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't dare." He liked Wyatt, but such an accusation would not stand.

"Wyatt," James said, folding his arms across his chest, "if I thought we had a prayer, I'd back you. But there's too much that could go wrong. Nothing short of you joining the Union Church would get me to go along with you."

"Joining the church!" Wyatt cried. "Why, you haven't darkened the door of a church yourself in years!"

"So, I guess we're not going." James smiled in triumph and went back to cutting up his porkchop.

Bessie sighed a little and had a rueful sort of smile. "Well, that's that."

"It's a ridiculous suggestion," Wyatt pouted. "You're just mule-stubborn. Join the church." He shook his head.

They ate in silence for a minute or so. Then Doc said, "You know... today is Sunday. There'll be a service this evening, won't there?"

"Forget it."

"Again," said James, "I thought you were on my side."

"I am," said Doc. "But seeing him join that church would be a daisy."

James looked incredulous. Then he smirked. Then he laughed. "I guess it would at that."

Wyatt's fork clattered on his plate. "Joke's on you," he said, pushing his chair back. "I'm going to join that church. And we're transporting that prisoner."

"Wait... Wyatt, they may not even take you. I mean... that business with Frankie..."

Doc tilted his head to the side and gave Wyatt a lazy smile. "You're livin' in sin."

"Oh, shut up," Wyatt snapped. "They take Catholics, Presbyterians, Methodists... I don't see why they'll turn away a repentant sinner as long as he doesn't bring his wicked ways with him."

"You might be right at that. Fact is, if they were particular, they wouldn't have much membership at all."

"But this is ridiculous..." James said.

Bessie cut in. "Oh, let him join the dang church if he wants to, Jim. We should probably all go. It'd do us good."

"Not I," Doc said quickly. He had thought about it, but never seriously, and he certainly wasn't ready to attend on a whim. Besides, he'd heard that the preacher, though a Presbyterian, was a Yankee.

Looking at James, Wyatt said, "You should go, so you know I'm not lying about it after."

"Ridiculous," James repeated. Then he sighed. "Fine. Bessie and I will accompany you. But I don't see this working."

Doc found himself fascinated. Even excited. He couldn't wait for the outcome of this experiment, even wished he dared witness it himself. Then he winced. I just told Mattie Blaylock that Wyatt had no designs on joining the church. Damn it.

He wanted a way to capitalize on this situation. But how? He absently stroked his mustache, brooding.

"Doc?" Wyatt was staring at him.

"Hm?"

"You sure you don't want to go to the church?"

He shook his head.

"But if I do join, you agree to go to Denver?"

Doc considered a moment, then dipped his chin once to indicate yes.

"Good. I'll see you at the jail tomorrow morning with saddle horses and a buckboard. Just you be ready to travel."


Oh man, Wyatt is sure determined! Rumor has it that Wyatt was a member of the only church in Dodge - even a deacon of said church, they say. Man, they must have had a dire need for some leadership in that church, because by all accounts, Wyatt was not a model of Christian living. I'll be inventing pretty much everything about the church, other than what has already been revealed and the preacher's name: Ormond W. Wright. See you next time!