So you're not left wondering when you get there, the scene in Much Ado About Nothing involves Benedick, a sworn bachelor, spying on several of his friends who know that he's listening. They make up stories about Beatrice (who is Benedick's frienemy) being in love with him. Benedick is shocked but ends up believing them. Then friends of Beatrice do the same to her, and the two end up falling in love for reals.

Disclaimer: While the whole peace pipe thing is a real phenomenon, and Comanches definitely smoked, I don't know how accurate my portrayal is. Don't sue me.

Doc found he was comfortable in a supportive role. Wyatt made a good leader, and he was content with observing his friend in that capacity and even taking his orders. He also found it interesting that James, Wyatt's elder by several years, was also content to let his brother lead. They were both prepared to trust Wyatt's judgment concerning Jackson and his gang, and regarding the local Indians.

Trust, however, was not the same as blind faith, so Doc did feel some relief when they turned off the road and got out of sight from it without any interference. It seemed they had outwitted Jackson's men for now. They slowed their pace to a quick trot and went single file. Wyatt led the way, then James leading Jackson's horse, and Doc brought up the rear.

Doc knew this was the way the Indians followed their trails themselves, but his knowledge of their ways extended little beyond that. He kept an eye on their surroundings, dividing the rest of his attention between making sure Jackson didn't try anything funny and waiting for signals from Wyatt.

All seemed well, but after they rode in silence for a mile or so, Doc began to dislike the eerie quiet. There were no trees in the area - only low, hardy bushes - and the rocky terrain varied from flat to boulder-jumbled. Doc caught sight of a bird shortly after they turned off the road, but after that, nothing. Even Jackson seemed bothered by it, his head swiveling this way and that.

A little further on, Doc was sure he saw movement of some kind. But human or animal, he wasn't sure. Then he spotted it: something clad in buckskin disappearing behind a rock not quite quick enough.

"Wyatt."

Wyatt looked back toward him, slowing his horse to a walk.

"Are you familiar with Shakespeare's 'Much Ado About Nothing'?"

"I am."

"Knowing that Benedick observes, is there any point in trying to beguile him?" Doc chose his words carefully to make it difficult for anyone whose first language was not English to follow.

"No, I think he's observed for quite some time, and he'll have to reach his own conclusions about Beatrice."

Doc grinned. Wyatt knew they were being watched and thought it best to continue as they were and let the Indian come to them if he felt like it. "Very well."

"What the hell are you talking about?" It seemed that even Jackson had not been able to follow the conversation, though James did not look confused in the least.

"Never you mind," said Wyatt. "Let's go."

When he checked his watch, Doc guessed they had gone on under observation for at least an hour. He was sure they were outnumbered now - he was seeing too much in his peripheral vision for it to be just one or two scouts. It was hard to act like nothing was amiss.

Finally, even Jackson spotted one of them. "Hey... did you-"

Wyatt put up a hand to silence him. Then they rounded an outcrop of rock and came upon a group of Indians clearly waiting for them on the trail.

Jackson shut up.

They halted their horses.

Doc estimated ten Indians stood on or beside the trail, with a couple more on horseback behind them. He couldn't guess how many more might be watching from cover. Every one of the men had a weapon in his hand or on his person: guns, bows, and spears. He felt none too comfortable, but he stayed still, waiting.

Wyatt dismounted smoothly and handed his reins to James. He opened his saddlebag and pulled out the pouch of tobacco he had brought for just such an occasion. Then he walked toward the Indian who seemed to be the leader, standing in the middle of the trail.

Before saying a word, Wyatt drew out some tobacco leaves between his fingers and held them up high. Doc wasn't sure if he was showing it to them or what. Then he went a little off the trail where the ground was softer, dug a little hole with his hand, put the leaves in, and covered them up again.

Even Jackson had the sense not to ask what he was doing, strange though it seemed to Doc.

Wyatt went back to the trail and held out the bag. "I wish to offer friendship. You may divide this tobacco with me."

The brave in front looked back at those behind him and then at Wyatt. "What is your name?"

"I am Wyatt Earp. I was named for a great warrior who fought with my father in Mexico. I would be honored to know your name."

One of the men behind the spokesman stepped forward to take his place. "I am Swift Eagle of the long plain band. We are Comanche." He took the bag from Wyatt. "If you truly want friendship, sit down with us."

"I'd like nothing better, but I think someone is trying to follow us. They might come after us any time."

"Someone is trying to follow you, Wyatt Earp. But we have confused your horses' footprints. It will take them hours to find the right path."

Wyatt smiled. "I am obliged to you. James, we're going to stop here a little while."

Doc looked at James, who nodded and got off his horse. Doc dismounted too, and helped lead the horses off the trail. There wasn't much to tie them to, other than scrub brush, but they made do.

The Indians spread blankets and hides on the ground and ushered the white men over to sit with them. About half of the Indians present joined the circle.

Swift Eagle divided some of the tobacco with his men and filled a pipe with more. Wyatt offered him matches to light it. Once it was lit and the leader had taken a few good puffs, he passed the pipe to Wyatt.

Doc couldn't remember seeing Wyatt smoke anything other than a cigar, and that not often. He didn't seem to enjoy the pipe all that much, but he didn't hurry through smoking it before passing it on to a brave. The pipe passed from one man to another, until it came to Doc. He imitated the others, taking a shorter turn than Wyatt had, but long enough to appear appreciative. He passed it to James in front of Jackson, which seemed like the right thing to do. Wyatt gave no sign that it wasn't, so he decided he had chosen well.

When the pipe made its way back to the chief, he passed it to someone behind him and looked at Wyatt. "Now you will tell us why you are taking this man over our trails."

"We're taking him to Denver," Wyatt answered without hesitation. "He is to stand trial there for murder. I decided to use your trails to confuse his friends, who are the ones following us."

"He is an enemy to you?"

"He is a job to me. When I deliver him in Denver, we get a reward. At least, we'll get a bank draft that we can redeem in Dodge."

"Long journey for one man. It must be a great reward."

"Great enough."

"Will they reward you if you capture his men, too?"

Wyatt shook his head. "As far as we know, they're not wanted by the law. Besides, I think there are too many of them for us to try to capture."

"Maybe too many for you to fight. Why take such risks?"

That's what I said, Doc thought ironically. He quirked an eyebrow at Wyatt.

But Wyatt was not shaken in the slightest. He sat up straight. "We're not afraid of being outnumbered. When we receive our reward, we'll be honored for our bravery."

Bull shit. Everyone will still think we were loco to take this on.

"Giving this man to the law in Denver is like counting coup on a great enemy?" Swift Eagle asked.

Wyatt nodded. "Yes, very much like that."

Bull shit, Doc thought again, but he couldn't help admiring Wyatt's poker face.

"Very well. You have my permission to travel on Comanche land. I will send word to the other bands not to trouble you." Swift Eagle took a necklace from around his neck and hung it around Wyatt's. "You will tell the marshal in Denver that Swift Eagle is your friend."

"I certainly will," Wyatt said. He offered his hand to the chief, and they shook firmly.

"You go now."

That seemed to be that. Everyone got up, the blankets and hides were put away, and a couple of braves even brought the white men's horses over.

"Wyatt Earp," Swift Eagle called as they were mounting up. "In six miles, when the trail makes a branch to the south, that trail will lead to good water."

Wyatt tipped his hat. "I'm much obliged, Swift Eagle. I hope I'll get the chance to help you one day."

"Boy, you sure knew what you were doing back there," Doc said admiringly when they were well on their way to the watering spot. "No wonder you weren't worried about the Comanches."

Wyatt shrugged modestly. "I've met a couple from other bands before, and I picked up some of their customs from buffalo hunters. They're people, too. You just have to know how to deal with them."

"Well... of course, they're people." Doc felt his face flush. You've got no call to say that... He would have said it out loud if James and Jackson weren't there. I thought we got that sort of thing straightened out. I look down on no man just for being different from me.

"What was the point of burying some of the tobacco?" James asked.

"That's for the spirits. You're supposed to give them a portion of everything."

"Oh," James, Doc and Jackson said at the same time.

Wyatt looked back at them with a puzzled smirk. "None of you figured that out?"

Rather than dwell on their ignorance, Doc said, "What do you suppose will happen if Jackson's men run into them head-on?"

"I doubt they'll be so friendly to them. Best they can hope for is to be run off."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll kill a few of 'em for us."

"I'd rather they didn't have to. Some of them might get hurt in the process."

"Right..." Doc's irritation returned. I only meant if they're going to fight, I hope they come out ahead.

"They're mostly horse traders these days. They've got a lot of bargaining sense. They know it's good to have strong friends among white people."

Doc continued brooding until they stopped at the little stream Swift Eagle had sent them to.

"Are you going to let me have my hands free to get a drink?" Jackson's complaining voice finally distracted Doc.

"Nope," Wyatt answered. "You can't be trusted. Just be glad I let you have your hands in front of you and you don't have to lie on your belly."

Doc watered his horse and then filled his canteen. He took a drink from his flask while he waited for the others to finish. He suspected the smoke hadn't been good for him, but that was hard to say. sometimes he thought it hurt the consumption more than it hurt his lungs.

Wyatt and James discussed which way to go next, and then they pressed on. The sky cleared up a bit, and the sun coaxed steam from the ground.

"We're going to meet them again, you know," Doc said when they stopped for lunch. "The Colorado Bob outfit, I mean."

"Maybe," Wyatt said.

"No maybe about it. If we lose them in these hills, there's only one play left for them to make, and it's a fool's bet they won't make it."

"Hm." James nodded thoughtfully.

After a moment, Wyatt said, "Right. They have the advantage of knowing our destination. They'll get between us and Denver."

"They sure will," said Doc. "If you ask me, tomorrow we should head straight for the road again, change horses in the nearest town, and move like there's a brush fire after us. With a little luck, we can keep them from cutting us off."

"I was planning to stop at Kit Carson tonight, before we left the road. We could easily get horses there. What do you think, James?"

"Anything to keep them guessing," James answered. "I'd sure rather outrun 'em than fight 'em."

"All right; we'll try it. Let's pick up the pace a little and try to make some good distance before dark."

Leave it to Doc to use a reference to Shakespeare to warn him that they were being watched. Wyatt had already had a strong suspicion of it, almost since they took this trail. He just hoped Jackson didn't say anything stupid to incur the Comanche's wrath.

Fortunately, the Indians made a rather direct introduction by planting themselves in their path. If they didn't want to talk, they would have started shooting by way of introduction. Wyatt was confident that this would remain a peaceful encounter.

Most white men talked too much for Comanche taste and gave the impression of not having a clear leader. With Doc and James keeping calm and quiet and Jackson understanding that he was just part of the scenery and needed to remain so if he wanted to live, Wyatt was sure they impressed Swift Eagle.

He might have fibbed a little over the renown they would supposedly gain by turning Jackson over to the Dever authorities, but he doubted any ill would come of it. He hadn't expected a bone and bead charm to be placed around his neck; that would be handy to show other bands of Comanches if they were less eager to be friendly.

Now, they needed to get as far as they could before they lost the last daylight. Wyatt led them on until the last of the sun was about to disappear.

"We'd better stop or we won't be able to see enough to set up camp," James pointed out.

"All right," Wyatt agreed. "Jackson, you stay put until I say so."

"Aw, hell, I'm sick of bein' in the saddle," Jackson complained.

"That's too damn bad." Wyatt looked at James. "Let's see if we can put up a fire screen. I don't care to have everyone for ten miles spotting our camp. Doc, you want to look around for fuel?"

"Sure," Doc said, lighting off his horse. "Whatever I find is bound to be wet, though."

James dismounted and stretched. "We have a tinder box. I'm sure we'll be able to get something burning."

"How long you gonna leave me up here?" Jackson whined.

"Until my hands aren't busy," Wyatt snapped. He was not very forgiving, and since the incident in the Granada hotel, he didn't trust Jackson further than the foot and a half he could throw him. If Jackson was on the ground, he needed to be ready to draw his gun.

Yes, I totally made up Swift Eagle and his band. However, the Comanches were made up of independent bands that cooperated with each other but didn't have a common governing body.

Another pet peeve of mine in movies and TV is ye olde campfire. It's always easy to start, none of the firewood is green, it doesn't steam or bubble or hiss, it stays nice and neat and burns perfectly, giving off just a little smoke. Real campfires are never like that. They're not fed by a secret gas line under the sound stage. They can be a beast to keep burning, and sometimes extremely difficult to start in the first place. And if you ever see characters rubbing two sticks together, you have permission to laugh scornfully or throw popcorn at the screen. It. Doesn't. Work. Viable methods include: 1. The "bow" and spinning stick method (very difficult, requires much practice) 2. The flint and steel method (also tricky, but doesn't usually take as long) 3. Matches (thank goodness for this invention!) 4. The lighter/blow torch (obviously not available in the Victorian era). But really, the easiest method of all was to keep a fire going constantly and never let it go out completely. That way, you never had to start it again.