Did I mention I found out that Victorians used to go to bed, wake up in the middle of the night, spend a couple hours doing whatever, then go back to sleep until morning? I was mind-blown and I felt like I should rewrite this whole story to tell what the boys were getting up to in the middle of the night. LOL But I'm sure it depended on circumstances. for instance, if you stayed up late gambling, you'd probably do all your sleeping in one shift.
Some sad discussion in this one. Lots of end notes.
"It being Sunday, I'm glad I got the bank draft ready for you last week," the sheriff said as he poured out whiskey for Doc, and Wyatt helped himself to some water.
"Is it Sunday? Damnation," Doc muttered. The saloons would not be open today. "We've been gone a whole week, Wyatt. As of tomorrow morning, anyway."
"Is the bath house open today?" asked Wyatt.
The sheriff shook his head. "No, they do land office business on Saturday and then close for Sunday. But you can buy yourself a bath at the hotel."
"That's a good idea. Thanks."
"Not at all. You tell 'em I sent you and they'll give you the best service." He handed over the bank draft to Wyatt. "I'm happy to hand this over. Will you stay in Denver a while?"
"Until tomorrow, at least."
Doc imbibed the remainder of his whiskey and set down his glass. "Thanks for the drink. We'd best be going now."
Wyatt looked a little embarrassed at being rushed out, but he made a hurried goodbye and shook the sheriff's hand before following Doc out of the jail.
"You in a hurry, Doc?"
"I don't like spending any more time in a jail than I can help." Doc looked around until he spotted the hotel. "Ah. Shall we?"
He was in surprisingly good spirits, considering the saloons were closed. He realized it was because they were rid of Jackson. Nothing immediate was hanging over them. They could take their time and worry about only themselves.
He signed them in at the hotel himself, this time making no argument about them sharing a room. "And we would like baths," he told the clerk. "I'll pay the extra for hot water."
"Yes, sir."
They went straight to their room and made themselves at home. Doc stretched out on the bed further from the door, tired of sitting from the train. "I could almost go to sleep right now."
"Should we have dinner while we wait for the bath?" Wyatt suggested.
"Will they let us take it up here?"
"I'll see."
Doc turned his head to watch Wyatt go, feeling too lazy to say anything. Then he closed his eyes.
He could hear distant sounds of other patrons coming and going in the hall, occasional noise from the street below, but it seemed to blur together in the background.
When Wyatt returned, he realized he had dozed off.
"Did I wake you?" Wyatt asked.
Doc shrugged. "I oughtn't sleep yet anyway. How about dinner?"
"They're going to send it up."
"Good." He rolled onto his side and propped up his head. "Now what?"
"Now, we rest." Wyatt kicked his boots off and got onto his bed, mirroring Doc's position.
"But not sleep. That means stimulating conversation. You choose the topic."
Wyatt half-smiled. "Uh... I don't know."
"Oh, come on. I know there's always something going on in your head. There's only two kinds of people keep quiet for long stretches at a time, and you're not an idiot."
This caused the half-smile to turn into a chuckle.
Doc felt a warm squirm in his chest. At the moment, he didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.
After a moment, Wyatt said, "You ride different from anybody I've ever seen."
For some reason, this choice of topic pleased Doc mightily. "Yes, my father and brother taught me. It's known as 'saddle seat.' Comfortable for long distances and best suited to gaited horses. What's more, it promotes good posture."
"Sounds sensible. Did you ride a lot when you were young?"
"No more than necessary, really. It's been a long while since I rode a proper gaited horse."
"Those ones that walk funny—kind of prancing?"
"You've never ridden a pacer, have you?" Doc raised one eyebrow.
"Can't say I have."
"Well." Doc rolled onto his back and held up his hands so he could employ his index and middle fingers to illustrate. "A regular horse trots like this, diagonal legs together. And a pacer moves like this, both on one side at a time. Damn, that's difficult," he added, having to correct the motion of his fingers.
Wyatt chuckled again. "Must feel funny."
"Feels like a rocking chair. Very smooth."
"I see."
Doc rolled onto his side again, smirking. "My turn." He considered carefully, not wanting to waste the opportunity to ask something he had been wondering about his friend. "Who was your first love?"
Surprise was apparent on Wyatt's face, but he didn't protest. He looked down for a moment. "The first I was pining after, or the first that I got up the nerve to court?"
That was a difficult decision, but Doc decided he would rather hear about the affair that went somewhere than about young puppy love. "The latter."
Wyatt settled on his back with his hands behind his head. "Her name was Urilla. Our families were acquainted in Lamar, Missouri. I was about as shy and awkward as colt in those days. And we were both quite proper, having been brought up right, so we hadn't a damn clue what we were doing on our wedding night."
Doc grinned. "That's beautiful, Wyatt. You were married young?"
"She was twenty and I was twenty-one. My father married us himself."
It seemed so sweet and romantic, but if that was the case, it almost certainly meant that a tragedy had parted them. Doc hated to ask. "What became of her?"
After a pause, Wyatt said, "Typhoid fever."
"That's a damn shame."
"Yeah. We weren't together even long enough to start hating each other."
Doc snorted at this cynical statement.
"I sometimes wonder... would we have stayed happy? Five or ten years later, would we still be happy?" Wyatt sighed. "I'll never know."
It was a rarely personal declaration and Doc wasn't sure how to respond. "Well... perhaps you can be happy again."
"Maybe..."
There was a knock at the door and Wyatt got up to open it. A bell boy wheeled a small table into the room.
"Enjoy your dinner," the boy said.
"Thank you." Wyatt patted down his pockets and produced a coin for the boy.
"Thanks, mister."
The food was simple, but Doc found he had more appetite than usual. Before they finished eating, the boy returned to tell them their hot water was ready in the washroom.
Doc's good mood was infectious, though Wyatt didn't know what to talk about when Doc prompted him to choose a topic.
"Oh, come on. I know there's always something going on in your head. There's only two kinds of people keep quiet for long stretches at a time, and you're not an idiot."
Wyatt chuckled. He thought back over the incidents of the road and finally said, "You ride different from anybody I've ever seen."
"Yes, my father and brother taught me. It's known as 'saddle seat.' Comfortable for long distances and best suited to gaited horses. What's more, it promotes good posture."
"Sounds sensible. Did you ride a lot when you were young?"
"No more than necessary, really. It's been a long while since I rode a proper gaited horse."
Wyatt thought he'd seen a few, mostly carriage horses. "Those ones that walk funny—kind of prancing?"
"You've never ridden a pacer, have you?" Doc raised one eyebrow.
"Can't say I have."
"Well." Doc rolled onto his back and held up his hands to illustrate. "A regular horse trots like this, diagonal legs together. And a pacer moves like this, both on one side at a time. Damn, that's difficult," he added, having to correct the motion of his fingers.
Wyatt chuckled again. "Must feel funny."
"Feels like a rocking chair. Very smooth."
"I see."
Doc rolled onto his side again, smirking. "My turn." He eyed Wyatt for a minute. "Who was your first love?"
Various faces flitted through Wyatt's memory, Lewis among them. "The first I was pining after, or the first that I got up the nerve to court?" He was partly stalling for time, partly hoping to direct Doc toward somehting he didn't have to lie about.
"The latter."
Relieved, Wyatt settled on his back with his hands behind his head. "Her name was Urilla. Our families were acquainted in Lamar, Missouri. I was about as shy and awkward as colt in those days. And we were both quite proper, having been brought up right, so we hadn't a damn clue what we were doing on our wedding night." He remembered how nervous they had both been, how eager he was and how he must have irritated or even alarmed her with his awkwardness. But god, I loved her.
Doc grinned. "That's beautiful, Wyatt. You were married young?"
"She was twenty and I was twenty-one. My father married us himself." The judge had probably been relieved that his fifth son had chosen a respectable bride and not eloped with her.
"What became of her?" Doc's tone was light, but the question was heavy.
Of her... and our child. "Typhoid fever."
"That's a damn shame."
"Yeah. We weren't together even long enough to start hating each other." Not long enough to argue about how to raise the kids, or for her to get frustrated with my nomadic life, or just sick of me taking risks... It was over so quick.
Doc snorted at his cynical statement.
Wyatt knew he shouldn't keep speaking on such a personal matter, but he couldn't seem to stop. "I sometimes wonder... would we have stayed happy? Five or ten years later, would we still be happy?" Wyatt sighed. "I'll never know."
After an awkward pause, Doc said, "Well... perhaps you can be happy again."
Like that? Not likely. But he said, "Maybe..."
There was a knock at the door and Wyatt got up, somewhat relieved at the interruption. He opened the door to a bell boy who wheeled a small table into the room.
Wyatt gave the boy a coin and they sat down to eat. Doc seemed to have more appetite than usual, and his good mood smoothed over the heaviness of their previous conversation.
Before they finished eating, the boy returned to tell them their hot water was ready in the washroom.
They took their clean clothes down the hall and found two tubs of water waiting for them with towels and soap set aside.
"Fine service," Doc said, hanging his clean clothes on the hooks on one wall.
Wyatt agreed. He quickly shed his outer clothes and then pulled off his underwear. He knew Doc was doing the same, but avoided looking in his direction for fear of making his friend self-conscious.
The water wasn't too hot, probably made up of cold water with some boiling water added. But it could have been room temperature for all he cared. Wyatt sank into the tub with a contented sigh. "Oh, yes... this is why they say cleanliness is next to godliness."
From the other tub, Doc replied, "Like bein' born again."
Wyatt relaxed and soaked a little while before be began scrubbing. "It took us a week to earn a few hundred dollars. Not bad. What do you think you'll do with the money?"
"Oh, most likely waste my substance on riotous living as usual."
"More gambling?"
"It's a living."
Wyatt scoffed. "Did you ever think maybe a little more honest work like this might set you up for the rest of your life?"
"What's honest about trading in other men's freedom? Sounds a bit like slavery. Besides... the rest of my life isn't likely to take much financing."
Both statements were sobering. Wyatt felt like he should address them both but didn't know where to start. But then Doc dunked himself under the water, which seemed to convey that he didn't expect a response. So, Wyatt mused on his own, wondering if equating bounty collection to enslaving people was too extreme a comparison, and whether or not Doc would live long or have enough money for his future expenses.
Yes, Wyatt's first wife died of typhoid fever while pregnant with their first child. It is my belief, along with that of some historians, that this loss is what caused Wyatt to go from lawman to outlaw in a very short period of time. He was a constable when he married Urilla. After her death, he embezzled funds, stole horses, and went on to run an illegal brothel with his brother (yup, James). Dodge is where he seems to have hit the brakes on the shady activity and gradually started to pick himself up. I wonder if Doc was a good or bad influence on his sense of morality. Personally, I think it was a good one. Doc showed him just how bad things could get, and may have inspired him to find a woman he really loved again. After all, Doc couldn't have the woman he loved, and settled for one who was just a champ at putting up with him.
In Ratatouille, Remi tells a rat that his food is "close to godliness" because it has no rat poison and is therefore "clean." This is not quite correct. The saying is "Cleanliness is NEXT to godliness," not "close." Isn't that the same thing? No. "Close to" would imply that being clean almost makes you godly. "Next to" means that being clean is the next most important thing on your priority list, after godliness. So, in this story, Wyatt is saying, "so this is why it's such a high priority." Not, "now I'm almost godly." Doc responds that it is "like being born again" because a bath is a renewal, and because Jesus spoke of being "born of water and of the spirit." Wyatt and Doc are both using their Christian upbringing to be witty about enjoying the bath. Sorry if I'm over-explaining, but I'm assuming some readers won't have been raised in church and won't understand the jargon.
Once again, although he and God are having a sort of stalemate, Doc uses scripture when he predicts he will "waste his substance on riotous living." This turn of phrase from the Bible describes how the prodigal son spent his inheritance carelessly. Doc could easily be compared to the prodigal son. His older brother lived life near their father, getting married and raising a family as one was expected to. Doc went west and had many colorful misadventures, and it is believed that he and his father had a strained relationship.
Many people of the time looked down on bounty hunters as some of the lowest humans on earth. It's one thing to sell someone out or ruin their reputation, but to trade a man in to the law for money, when he might spend the rest of his life in jail or be hanged, was considered inhuman by some. Doc clearly doesn't think it's that bad or he wouldn't be taking part of the reward money for transferring Jackson, but it's still a reality check for Wyatt... as is Doc bringing up the topic he won't let Wyatt discuss: his health. So, what's going through Doc's head? We'll probably see next time.