The reminiscing about Wyatt and James's shared past is simplified, but basically accurate. The flashback to 1863 is not. I made up the Chuck-a-Luck saloon, naming it after a game of chance popular in the day.
Fall, 1863
Wyatt left the Pella post office with a few letters tucked into his shoulder bag. He had hurried his horse a little once he was out of sight of the farm. He wanted to have time to make an extra stop without being late getting back home. He left his horse where it was tied by the post office and jogged across to the general store.
As he entered the store, the owner and his son were both with a customer, engrossed in conversation. Wyatt stood by a shelf of dry goods until Lewis looked up.
"Excuse me," Lewis said softly. He left the two men and walked up to Wyatt. "Hello, Wyatt."
For some reason it made Wyatt's heartbeat pick up a little, knowing that Lewis had remembered his name. "Hello, Lewis. I'm just in town checking the mail, but I thought I should tell you something."
With a glance at his father, Lewis tugged Wyatt's elbow and led him around behind the shelf. "What is it?"
Wyatt cleared his throat. He had planned his speech, but now it didn't seem right in his head. "Um... I wanted to say I'm sorry my brother was kind of rude to you when we were here before."
"Oh, that's all right. I figured he didn't notice when you left the front, and it spooked him."
That was about what Wyatt had thought at first, too. "Right. But there's something else." His face felt warm. He hoped he wasn't blushing.
Lewis waited patiently until Wyatt found his voice again.
"He... he doesn't think I should um... associate with you. And I think that's silly, but... I don't know, I guess maybe he got some strange notion about you and can't let it go. I promised him I wouldn't see you, so I wanted to tell you I'm sorry... that I won't be able to go hunting with you." There, I said it. This is so ridiculous.
"I see." Lewis looked down, seeming to think things over a good while. "Well, I'm sorry too, Wyatt. I've been practicing. I sure would have liked it if you could have gone with me."
"Yeah. Me too." Wyatt swallowed. He wasn't sure what else to say. "Uh... I'm hoping I might get my own gun for Christmas. I've used one of my pa's before, but I sure liked your new one."
Lewis smiled a little. "That would be nice. If you do, be sure to let me know where you're planning to use it. I'd hate for one of us to shoot the other by accident."
"All right." Wyatt felt a little flustered at the suggestion. "Anyway... thanks for not getting sore."
"No problem. I won't let on that I saw you today." Lewis held out his hand.
Wyatt slid his hand into Lewis's familiar grasp, the one he had thought about an excessive amount in the last couple of weeks. They shook firmly. "Bye."
"Goodbye."
Wyatt hurried back to his horse, glad for the cold air cooling him down.
He was well on his way home when a thought struck him. If we both happen to go hunting in the same area... we'd almost have to talk to each other to be sure of avoiding accidents. I'm sure that much would be all right.
He didn't admit to himself that he was more curious of Lewis than ever. He wanted to know if James was right about him.
July, 1878
They were traveling through cattle country now, lined with fences and dotted with distant herds. Not for the first time, Wyatt thought about what it would be like to own a good-sized cattle spread. His gaze returned often to James and Doc, who seemed to have found something absorbing to discuss. He realized that before this trip, he hadn't had a lot of time to talk with Doc alone, and he wanted more of that. It was nice speaking to him where he didn't have to worry about being overheard, or about being observed by anyone nosier than James.
James was still looking out for him, just like he had when Wyatt was a boy, but he let him make his own decisions for the most part. He expressed his concern while still respecting him as a grown man, and Wyatt appreciated that.
Things had changed a lot in fifteen years. Some of the things James would have warned him away from were now things he openly did, himself. Living with a woman he had not legally married, for instance, not to mention the brothels he had been involved with running. He had let Wyatt in on some of those enterprises, even as he quietly admonished him to remember that he was a staff member, not a client.
After the incident with the girl who had suddenly claimed to be Wyatt's wife (without consulting him first), they had decided to avoid further trouble with the law and settle in Wichita for a while. The girl in question had soon realized her mistake in attaching herself to someone who didn't want to be married and moved on. Then he met Mattie in Dodge. And maybe he did want to be married again, if only in name. It was something to consider, anyway. It seemed to be working for Virgil and James.
Wyatt reminisced about a lot of things as he rode along, and finally turned his thoughts back to the present. A couple of hours after crossing the state line, they arrived in Granada, Colorado. Doc seemed a little excited (in his way - it was sometimes hard to tell). He revealed that he had been to Granada before and found it to be a good place to gamble. James reminded him that Jackson was their responsibility now.
The soldier detail helped them move the outlaw to Granada's jail for the night, and James thanked them for their assistance.
"You're welcome," the sergeant answered. "Be careful on the trail."
"We will," Wyatt said. "Have a safe trip back to Fort Dodge."
"So," Doc said as the soldiers went their way, "surely now we can go in search of the manly art."
"Boxing?" James asked dryly.
"Gambling."
"Let's have dinner first."
"It's not even close to dinnertime. Besides, I had lunch."
"You won't find as much action for cards this early in the day," Wyatt pointed out, remounting his horse. "You might as well get settled into the hotel. Are you going to insist on paying for your own room again?" He started toward the livery stable and James directed the wagon after him.
"I don't see why not," Doc answered, appearing to pout a bit.
"It's bound to be a little more expensive than in Lakin," said James. "We don't mind if you go in with us."
Doc shook his head. "Thank you, but I must refuse. I don't want to intrude. And besides, I may want to stay out a little later than you two. I'd hate to wake you."
"You'd better not stay out too late," Wyatt said sternly. "I need you rested tomorrow."
"Yes, Papa."
"I'm not being your papa; I'm guarding my investment," Wyatt said, doing his best not to lose patience.
"Gambling is an investment, too."
"All right. Go find yourself a game now. Maybe that way you won't be out late."
"That's very sensible," Doc said, smiling. He started to get up.
"Wait a minute," James said. "We're not taking your things to the hotel for you. Don't get out yet."
Muttering, Doc sat back down with a sour expression.
At the stable, Wyatt spoke to the proprietor about caring for their horses and storing the buckboard. Then they retrieved what they would need for a night at the hotel along with their valuables and got directions to the Harvey House hotel.
"We'll need two rooms," Wyatt told the clerk. "One double, one single. Next door or across, please."
"Certainly," the clerk said, pushing a ledger toward them on the counter. "I'm sure we have something." He consulted another book. "Two-thirteen and two-fifteen are adjoining."
"Thirteen?" Wyatt repeated. He liked to tell himself that he wasn't superstitious, but it didn't pay to invite bad luck.
"Which is the single?" asked Doc.
"Two-thirteen," the clerk answered.
Doc smiled. "Thirteen's my number. We'll take it."
"If you say so," said Wyatt. They signed the register and received their keys.
Once he had organized and laid out his belongings, Wyatt tried his bed. He was tired of sitting in a saddle or on a hard wagon seat. The bed was surprisingly comfortable. "Hey, this is pretty nice," he said to James, who was hanging his gun belt over the footboard of his bed. "I might stay here a while."
"I'm going to find out where the best place to eat is," James said. "May as well have a good meal tonight."
There was a knock on the adjoining door.
"Come on in," Wyatt called.
Doc entered from his room. He had changed into his nicer waistcoat from the day before and carried his jacket.
"James is going to ask around for the best eatery."
"Sounds good," Doc replied. "I'll most likely be at the Chuck-a-Luck when you're ready."
"We'll find you," said James. He put on his jacket and went to the door. "See you later."
When he had gone, Wyatt said, "Did you try your bed?"
"Not yet." Doc sat on James's bed. "Not bad."
"I told James I'd just stay here a while."
"Can't blame you." Doc lay back on James's pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "I believe this hotel was just being finished when I was here before."
"How long were you here?"
"Oh... several weeks, I guess. I was just passing through, but I liked it enough to stay a while. The gambling was good." He coughed and cleared his throat.
"Remember to avoid any fights. We need to be able to leave tomorrow with no legal hangups." Wyatt rolled onto his side and propped his head up, watching Doc's profile.
"No legal hangups," Doc repeated. "You're getting awfully strict."
Wyatt snorted. "I'll ease up on you once we've collected the reward."
With a little flourish, Doc brought his right hand up to his forehead, palm out, then moved it behind his neck as if to get more comfortable.
For a moment, Wyatt felt unsettled by the lazy salute; then he chuckled. This was Doc. A person had to either take him or leave him as he was. I'll take him.
Doc rolled over, mirroring Wyatt's pose. "Sure you won't come with me?"
"No... I'll be along a little later. You said the Chuck-a-Luck?"
"Yes. It's an establishment on the other side of the post office."
"All right. I'll look for you there first."
Doc got up and straightened the bedclothes before going back to the door between their rooms. "See you later then, Wyatt. Get plenty of rest."
Wyatt waved him off. God, I hope he doesn't get himself into trouble.
Did you know that the military saluted like the British back in Civil War times? In doing research, I found that there was little difference between North and South in this regard, though I did find someone who said the Confederates saluted with "less snap." Whatever that means. Due to that distinction, I had Doc add his own little flourish and yet manage to bring it across as a lazy gesture. Having a father and four brothers enlisted in the Union army, Wyatt understandably felt slightly ruffled at this apparent disrespect. But in the end, it's just another quirk that makes up Doc's unique manner.
The chapter title comes from the flashback, but also hints at Wyatt being Doc's keeper for the time-being