First time for James's POV. IDK if we'll see much of it, but here goes.
Reminder: This story is told through an accurate (I hope) lens of the Victorian era. At this point, if you're taking offense to the views of characters in this story, then you're just enjoying being offended as a recreational sport. It's chapter 39. If you weren't able to deal with it, you'd have gone elsewhere by now, right?
I'm not sure when people started using the nickname, but KC stands for Kansas City. Victorians liked to make cutesy abbreviations for things, like O.K. being the abbreviated misspelling of "all correct." OK got so popular that it became part of the name of the photography studio called the O.K. Corral, and eventually an extremely common synonym for "all right" which we still use today - you may notice I don't have the characters say "okay" much because it was still on its way up to common usage.
As he planned, James woke early. Wyatt was already up... no, he had moved to the other bed. Odd. James got up and looked out the window. The sky was overcast, but it looked like the rain had finally stopped. Time to pack up.
He got dressed before going to the other bed. Wyatt and Doc made rather a strange sight - Wyatt had an arm around his friend, who was only half covered by the bedclothes. After frowning for a moment in bewilderment, James grasped his brother's wrist and carefully disentangled him from Doc. There was no need for his brother to suffer the embarrassment of waking in such a position. He shook Wyatt's shoulder.
Wyatt stirred and then woke suddenly. He sank back into the pillows when he saw James standing over him. "Mm... morning?"
"Yeah. Overcast; not raining."
"Sorta wish it had."
"Oh, well."
Wyatt turned onto his side and seemed to assess Doc. "You snored something awful last night," he commented. "I'm lucky Doc didn't mind me moving over here."
Ah, so that was it... or that's the excuse. James had had no reason to suspect his brother of making any forays into the territory of perversion, but he still considered himself responsible for Wyatt on some level. Of all the morally low things they'd gotten into together, indulging intimacy between men was not one of them. Probably, Wyatt's arm around Doc was innocent, maybe even unwittingly done in his sleep, but he couldn't write it off completely. Doc was a rather eccentric person, one for whom Wyatt had high regard. One who had an inordinately strong loyalty toward Wyatt. Still, there was no need to make trouble where there wasn't any as of yet. He would simply watch and wait.
"It can't have been that bad."
"Oh, can't it!" Wyatt grumbled, gingerly putting a hand on Doc's shoulder. "Doc, wake up."
Doc came around slowly, blinking several times at Wyatt before saying huskily, "Good morning."
"Morning. It's not raining. We need to pack up."
"Right. Morning, James."
"Good morning," James answered, hoping nothing in his voice seemed out of the ordinary. If Doc had no ill intentions toward his brother, he had no desire to cause trouble with him. "I'll see about breakfast while you two get dressed."
Doc propped himself up on an elbow. "Sleep all right, Mister Sawyer?"
James paused on his way to the door. "Sawyer?"
"Sounded like you were sawing some awfully big logs over there last night."
"I told you," Wyatt said triumphantly.
It seemed it wasn't just an excuse. "I apologize," James said. "Next time, just wake me."
"I tried."
"Try harder. I'll be back soon."
James let himself out and paused at Jackson's door. A look through the keyhole showed the outlaw still lying on his bed. His large form was unmistakable, and the pitcher was still in its place in front of the door. So far, so good.
In contrast to his sudden waking in the night, Doc came around slowly. He blinked at Wyatt a few times before saying, "Good morning." His voice was thick with grogginess.
"Morning. It's not raining. We need to pack up."
"Right." Doc looked past Wyatt to see James standing by the bed, fully dressed. "Morning, James."
"Good morning. I'll see about breakfast while you two get dressed."
Something about James's manner seemed slightly off, but Doc dismissed it for the time-being. He propped himself up on an elbow as James made his way to the door. "Sleep all right, Mister Sawyer?" He quirked an eyebrow.
James halted. "Sawyer?"
"Sounded like you were sawing some awfully big logs over there last night."
"I told you," Wyatt exclaimed. It seemed the brothers may have been arguing over the matter.
"I apologize," said James. "Next time, just wake me."
"I tried."
"Try harder. I'll be back soon." He let himself out.
Doc chuckled even as Wyatt complained, "Easy for him to say."
Doc was tempted to lie back again, but he knew he couldn't waste time. When Wyatt sat up, he found himself wishing they could have stayed close a little longer. He recalled the warmth and safety of Wyatt's presence and sighed softly. Then he suddenly remembered... "I had an odd dream. Damned if you weren't reading scripture to me."
Wyatt looked back at him, then toward the bedside table.
Doc followed his gaze and saw the Bible sitting there, plain as plain. He looked up at Wyatt. "Were ya?"
Wyatt shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I should at least have a look at it so I'd have something to tell the preacher about when we get back."
"I see."
"I know you don't care for it... I probably wouldn't have read to you if you'd been awake."
Doc could see that he was testing, reaching. "That's a pity," Doc murmured, sitting up fully. "Your voice would have helped me sleep." He saw the glass sitting on the table, too. "Thank you."
Wyatt shifted a little awkwardly. "Not at all."
He got up and went to the carpet bag containing his clothes. "Next town we stop in, we should get some washing done."
"I concur," Doc said, forcing himself to leave the warmth of the bed. "And baths. One can do only so much washing up without use of a tub. You know, I believe Denver has a bath house, just like K-C."
"A proper bath would be nice," Wyatt said. "I know it's only been a few days, but it feels like a few weeks."
Suddenly self-conscious, Doc said, "Sweating as I was last night, I was probably a rather unsavory bedfellow."
"Oh, I didn't notice," Wyatt lied so badly that Doc felt too sorry for him to point it out.
Instead, he smirked and said, "Well, thank goodness I'm still fresh as a shady meadow."
Wyatt snorted.
Doc realized he had lost nearly all of his self-consciousness over being in his underwear. Wyatt had lain beside him all night and it had made him feel nothing but good. The memory still felt good to him, not awkward. He smiled a little. "I think it's going to be a hell of a day."
Many townsfolk saw the Earps and Doc take Jackson out of town, heading west with their team, two saddle horses, and a new pack horse. What they didn't see was the party turning off the main road as soon as they came to ground rocky enough that it would not show the prints of their horses or the wagon. It took some careful driving on James's part to get the buckboard safely off the road and over an untamed rise that afforded them a good view of the way they had come.
"All out of sight?" Wyatt asked.
Doc walked his horse back down toward the road and turned to look up the incline for any signs of their passing. Then he urged his mount back up to where the others were waiting. "They might spot our way," he reported, "but nothing up here is visible."
"We'll have to hope they're not paying attention," James said. "I don't want to bet on having enough time to disguise it."
"If I go down on foot to cover our trail, you can warn me in time," said Wyatt.
"It's risky, boy," Doc said. "They could be right behind us. And speaking of which, I think we should gag him." He nodded at Jackson.
James nodded and got out a bandana. "If this isn't enough, I'm sure we can find other things to plug you with," he told the prisoner. "Understand?"
Jackson gave him a look that could kill and then a curt nod.
"See that you keep still, too," Doc told him. "I'd hate to have to shoot you for trying to escape after we brought you all this way."
Shortly after Jackson was gagged, Wyatt reported, "Here comes someone."
Doc left his horse tied to the buckboard and leaned on a boulder next to Wyatt. He could just see a little dark shape coming from the direction of Granada. As it grew, he thought at first that it was a couple of riders side by side. However, it soon became apparent that that was not the case. "Stagecoach?" he asked.
"Looks that way."
"That's good for us." Doc knew that anyone following them might mistake the coach's tracks for their own.
"Very, provided they stay ahead of Jackson's gang."
It took a few minutes for the stage to pass by, but it did so without the driver or shotgun showing any signs of suspicion.
"So far, so good," Doc said.
Wyatt nodded.
Doc glanced back at the buckboard and saw that James was keeping a close eye on Jackson. Then he looked back to the east. "Uh-oh. Here comes someone else now. Look sharp." He took his hat off, and Wyatt followed suit.
Doc licked his lips. He watched the growing speck intently, like a fox watching a prairie dog hole. "Two... at least three," he murmured as the shape split apart. "La, four... five."
"Damn," Wyatt said under his breath. "That's more than I hoped."
"And there could be more waiting to join up further down the trail," James pointed out.
"No," Doc scoffed, turning to look at Jackson. "I don't believe he has that many friends in the whole country."
Jackson snarled through his gag.
"Let's let 'em pass," Wyatt said, ducking behind the rocks.
Doc joined him, drawing his gun and training it on Jackson. "At this range, I could put my initials in you," he said, giving Jackson a wink.
Jackson glared.
The four riders passed by below them, going at a steady canter.
Wyatt peeked out after them. "I'm sure they're expecting to catch us up within an hour or so. We need to move fast. The trail I want to take should be less than five miles ahead."
"Are we leaving the buckboard?" James asked.
"Yeah. It would slow us down too much at this point. Let's saddle the team and get Jackson on a horse."
"I had an odd dream. Damned if you weren't reading scripture to me."
Wyatt looked back at Doc, then toward the bedside table where he had left the Bible the night before.
Doc followed his gaze and then looked up at Wyatt. "Were ya?"
Wyatt shrugged, trying to cover the awkward feeling coming over him. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I should at least have a look at it so I'd have something to tell the preacher about when we get back."
"I see." Doc's face gave nothing away about his feelings on the matter.
"I know you don't care for it... I probably wouldn't have read to you if you'd been awake."
"That's a pity," Doc murmured, as he sat up. "Your voice would have helped me sleep... Thank you."
For what? Reading to you? Waking you from the nightmare? Getting the water? Wyatt shifted a little. "Not at all."
He got up and went to his carpet bag for some clothes. He had worn everything once by now. "Next town we stop in, we should get some washing done."
"I concur," Doc said, getting up. He was shivering slightly. "And baths. One can do only so much washing up without use of a tub. You know, I believe Denver has a bath house, just like K-C."
"A proper bath would be nice," Wyatt said. He knew Doc paid a lot of attention to his wardrobe and neatness, and even though he usually sported a sheen of sweat, there was rarely a speck of dust on him. The grime of travel probably bothered him. "I know it's only been a few days, but it feels like a few weeks."
"Sweating as I was last night, I was probably a rather unsavory bedfellow," Doc commented.
Are you reading my mind now? "Oh, I didn't notice," Wyatt lied. It didn't sound convincing, even to him.
Doc smirked and said, "Well, thank goodness I'm still fresh as a shady meadow."
Wyatt snorted. He got into a pair of pants while Doc selected his own clothes for the day.
"I think it's going to be a hell of a day."
Wyatt looked over to see his friend smiling slightly. He's excited about the danger. Not for the last time, Wyatt wondered if Doc was a little bit unstable in the head.
After the outlaws passed by their hiding place, Wyatt and the others quickly unharnessed the wagon team and got them saddled and one of them bridled. They put Jackson on the harness horse with no bridle, having to unfasten his leg irons to do so. James fashioned a halter from rope and tied the loose end securely to his saddle horn.
"It's hard enough having to ride with your wrists cuffed," Wyatt told Jackson. "You won't get very far very fast without a bridle. So just don't try anything or you may find yourself stranded pretty far from help."
They had taken his gag off, but Jackson decided to remain silent.
If it were him, Wyatt was fairly sure he could use nothing but a rope to neck-rein a horse that was trained for it, but he doubted Jackson had much of a way with animals. The outlaw slouched in the saddle and didn't shift his weight much when the incline of the terrain changed.
Wyatt saw Jackson's foot leave his stirrup as they got underway. He wondered if the intention was to jump off his horse and make a run for it before they got far from town. It would never work - they would overtake him in an instant. But Wyatt didn't want the bother. "Halt," he called.
James and Doc were understandably surprised, and it took them a few strides to stop their horses.
"What is it?" James asked.
"Jackson, you aiming to do some walking?" Wyatt asked.
Jackson looked at each of them and then complained, "My stirrups are too short."
Wyatt sighed and dismounted quickly to go to Jackson's horse.
Doc drew his pistol. "You try to kick him, it'll be the last thing you do with that leg for a while."
Jackson scowled and moved his leg forward onto the horse's shoulder while Wyatt folded the saddle's fender back and let the stirrup out as far as it would go. Then he put his foot in the stirrup and said in a grudging tone, "That's better."
Wyatt quickly adjusted the other stirrup and got back to his horse. "All right, let's go."
He led the way at a slow gallop. They had time to make up.
Don't be too annoyed with James. He's just being protective of his little bro the best way he knows how. Besides, we all know that if he tries to get between them, Wyatt will just sneak around like he did with Lewis... LOL.
Bathing was sort of a luxury in the old West. Private homes often didn't have so much as a wooden tub in which to bathe. Instead, people would bathe in creeks or ponds or just have a sponge bath from a basin, which is about what our heroes are doing in "washrooms" in their travels. It's far better than nothing, but a far cry from a real bath. Bath houses gained popularity in England in the early 19th century, and soon caught on in America, even out west. I found documentation of a couple of public bath houses in Kansas in the 1870's, so I think that gives me plenty of room to invent one or two wherever I see fit.
It always irritates me when I'm watching a movie involving horses and one of the characters is all like "I have a spare horse you can ride" and the other person is like "Great" and they just mount up and go, and no one ever asks if they need to adjust their stirrups, let alone does it. People's legs are different lengths, and if the stirrups aren't right, it's an uncomfortable ride. Jackson, I have mentioned, is a big guy, so it stands to reason he would need long stirrup leathers.
