The Doctor And The Tinpan by Stephen Hawkins (the beach read .TXT) 📖

as McLaury groaned and slumped onto his knees.

Doc Holliday also saw it, and he came running as Wyatt raised his pistol again to hit the bloodied McLaury. In his rage, Wyatt didn't even know the Doc was there until his friend grabbed at his arm -

"Easy, Wyatt! This ain't the way."

"Uh?" Doc? The red mist cleared from Wyatt's eyes. "Doc? Damn it! I thought you were a goner!"

The Doc laughed. "Hell, no. I've got a few hands to play yet."

As Wyatt re-holstered his pistol, Tom McLaury slowly got to his feet. His pride hurt more than the head he nursed.

"The next time I see you, I'm gonna kill you, Earp," he snarled.

Wyatt's laugh hacked bitter. "Must be a day for promising. Now get out of my face."

McLaury bit his lip. Seeing Doc Holliday with Wyatt Earp dissuaded him from saying any more.

As McLaury slunk away, Wyatt turned to the Doc."What the hell happened to you last night? I see that Tinpan, Red Culpepper and some stranger helping you. Where did they take you?"

The Doc shrugged. "I don't rightly recall. You'd best ask them."

There would be no need. Morgan was heading across the street. He had the answers.

Come the afternoon, the Clanton and McLaury gang had gathered at the OK Corral. They were itching for a fight.

***

SHOWDOWN

We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it - and stop there..."

-- Mark Twain

Inside the TARDIS, the Time Lord sat in his pod-like chair reconfiguring the external chameleon circuit that enabled him to interface with the real world.The interface could look like anything. A doorway. A clock.

From the computer readouts, he knew that the shoot-out between the Clanton-McLaury gang and the Earps and Doc Holliday would take place in the streets of Tombstone. As such, he configured the TARDIS to morph within the clocktower above the funeral parlor. It would give him an ideal vantage point from where he could "watch" history being made. Even the Doctor had a
sense of humor.

***

In the sheriff's office, the Doc had his right hand raised and, in his left hand, he held a bible as Marshal Virgil Earp swore him in as Deputy. Wyatt and Morgan stood witness. Sheriff Johnny Behan was also there. He sat behind his desk looking incredulous as he heard the Doc repeating Virgil's words.

"...I do solemnly swear that I have not engaged in any duel to fight or accepted a challenge for that purpose..."

Like hell, he has, Behan thought. That dead-eyed charmer has sent more folk to the bone
orchard than Jesse James.

Behan grimaced to hear the Doc declaring, "I will honestly perform the duties of Deputy Marshall to the best of my ability. So Help Me God."

God help us, Behan thought as he watched Virgil hand the Doc a badge of office and say, "Alright. You're legal now."

Behan consoled himself with the thought that sooner or later, a bounty would be put on the Doc's head, and when that happened, he'd sure as hell catch his death. But even if he didn't die by a bounty hunter's bullet, Behan thought the "lunger" was living on borrowed time. He'll be a daisy before long, he thought. I can live with that prospect. But then, there was one man he couldn't abide alive -- Wyatt Earp. Both had wanted the sheriff's job, and both had wanted the same woman. After some double-crossing, Behan had got the sheriff's job, but Wyatt had got the woman -- his woman, Josie Marcus. For that, Behan hated him more than any man alive.

As Doc Holliday and the Earps filed out of his office, Behan waited until -- the last man out -- Wyatt reached the door. Like his brothers and the Doc, he carried a ten-gauge sawn-off shotgun. He had a pistol tucked in his gun-belt and a holstered twelve-inch long-barreled Buntline Special slung low at his side. In his black, long-tailed coat and wide-brimmed hat, he posed a mean spectacle as Johnny sat up to bait him.

"Dying ain't much of a living, Wyatt, but I guess you're stupid enough to do it."

Wyatt's face looked set in stone as he ground out the words. "Why hell, Josie was right when she said, you ain't got what it takes to be a man, Johnny."

If looks could kill, Johnny's would. He knew Wyatt wasn't calling him a coward for staying out of the fight. No, it was about his failure as a "man." He had trouble keeping his pecker up.

***

A wind had got up. Loose rafters rattled and hanging shop-signs swung and creaked along the plank-walks of Tombstone. It looked like a ghost town. Shops were locked up and shutters were drawn. But folk were home. They were inside watching the street from everywhere they could. A showdown between the cowboys and the lawmen had been a long time coming, and folk didn't want to miss the show.

In the Occidental saloon, the loud clatter of chairs and clumping of feet woke Red Culpepper from his sleeping. Blinking fiercely through liquor-shot eyes, he saw hardy patrons crowding the windows and the swing-gates of the saloon.

"Uh? What's got into them?" he grumbled.

A lonesome bottle of whiskey on another table sharpened his focus. He grabbed it for company and made his way over to join them. He could hear some whispering about a shootout, then it all fell silent. Red craned his neck to look-see why. Then he saw them... the Earps and Doc Holliday passing by the saloon.

"Oh shit," he mouthed to himself. "It's coming true. " They will settle their differences today, his pardner -- the Doctor -- had said. So where is he? Red thought. He looked along the plank-walks and at buildings across the street. He almost expected to see the Doctor appear out of nowhere. Then for no reason he could think of, he looked up at the clock tower over the funeral parlor.

By the time the Earp party reached the OK Corral, the storm had worsened. Dust whorls swirled around as tumbleweed bounced like balls down the main street. The Clanton and McLaury horses were tethered in the Corral, but the cowboys had made themselves scarce.

Virgil Earp had his finger on the trigger of the shotgun he held across his chest, and as his coat's long-tails flapped in the wind, he yelled, "Okay. Fan out and keep your eyes peeled!"

He didn't know it, but the cowboys were waiting in an alley next to a Photo Shop. There was Ike Clanton and his younger brother, Billy. And with them, were the McLaury brothers, Tom and Frank. Frank aimed to kill Wyatt Earp for the pistol-whipping he'd taken that morning.

"That son-of-a-bitch is gonna pay for what he did to me," he growled.

As Ike Clanton filled the chamber of his Colt .45, he said. "No, Frank. You've gotta deal with Doc Holliday first. He's too quick to let be."

Frank's eyes narrowed as he said, "Then I'll kill 'em both."

Ike huffed. "Lead's gonna be flying out there, Frank, and you might catch a slug before you get the chance so... no, you leave Wyatt to me," he said. Then after twirling his loaded gun-barrel, he shoved the pistol in his trouser belt behind his back. "I've got it figured," he smirked. "I'm gonna put my hands up and say I'm unarmed. He won't kill me."

Frank looked puzzled. "What? With a pistol in your belt?"

"Well, Wyatt ain't gonna see it. Not 'til you run out and distract him. That'll give me all the time I need to kill him."

"Smart thinking, Ike," Frank grinned. "I like it."

Billy butted in to ask his brother, "What about me and Tom? How do we fit in?"

"You bide your time," Ike replied. "Keep your pistols hidden. Say you're unarmed and say you don't wanna fight. In this dust storm, they won't be seeing too well. That'll give us an edge, an' that's all we need."

At only nineteen, Billy looked a fresh-faced kid, but he had a wild spirit. Rustling cattle or horses, shooting up the town, bedding any woman he could, and going on benders made his life just fine.

"Well, I'm ready," he said.

As for Tom McLaury, he didn't say much. He hated Unionists and the Earps were that, and he particularly despised Doc Holliday for siding with the Unionists. "That makes him a traitor in my book," he'd said more than once. Killing him would be southern justice, and killing the Earps would be good for business.

"Let's get back to running this town," was all he had to say.

Ike nodded. "You're damn right, Tom. Now, let's do it."

***

Above the funeral parlor, the Time Lord sat watching events unfold on the plasma screen. He could discern the opposing factions closing in on each other, but the dust storm made viewing difficult.

The Time Lord thought that by reviving Doc Holliday, a legend would be born and the future of the world would be secured: Billy Clanton's descendant -- Billy Joe would never be born to become president, and the nuclear holocaust of 2020 would be averted. That time line would be erased.

But what if I am mistaken? he thought. My being here is changing history. So what if I am the anomaly -- the origin of the alternate time line? If so, the shootout at the OK Corral could yet be a catalyst for disaster.

***

As the wind howled and thick dust clouds rolled across the main street, four figures of the law -- the Earps and Doc Holliday -- slowly walked out of the sandy fog.

Upon seeing three of the cowboys waiting for them, they came to a halt. The Doc put his shotgun back inside his coat, and tucked his thumbs inside his gun-belt. He had a mind to chivvy up Billy Clanton. He couldn't see much to beat.

"Hey Billy! I be your huckleberry!" he called out.

Billy bit his lip and did what his brother had told him. "I ain't armed!" he yelled. "Don't shoot!"

As with his brothers, Virgil kept his shotgun pointed. He had sand in his eyes and they stung. "Alright! Keep 'em up where we can see 'em. If I see your hands drop, I'll shoot!"

Then Tom McLaury opened his coat to "show" he was unarmed.

Morgan marked him. "Throw up your hands, Tom. And walk this way!"

Ike made his move. He began walking towards Wyatt with his hands up. "I ain't armed, Wyatt. You won't kill me, will you?" he asked.

It was just then that the Doc alerted his friend. "Where's Frank McLaury-? " he shouted. "I don't see him!"

Wyatt leveled his shotgun at Ike. "Get on your knees, you shit! Or so help me, I'll kill you now!"

In that moment, the dust swirled again, and nerves snapped as all hell broke loose.

Frank McLaury ducked out of the alley and ran out. He kept side-on, his shooting arm held straight out like a duelist as he fired at will. In all the confusion, his brother, Tom and Billy Clanton went for their guns.