Alias Smith and Jones Writers

A forum devoted to writers of Alias Smith and Jones Fan Fiction
HomePortalGalleryFAQSearchRegisterLog in

Share | 

 July 18 - Doc Holliday

Go down 

Posts : 1385
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 57
Location : Northern California

PostSubject: July 18 - Doc Holliday   Sat Jun 30, 2018 11:56 pm

Calico, Queen of Challenges, is on a walk about and asked me to help her out.  So it is my pleasure to give you July's challenge...


Doc Holliday made a guest appearance in two episodes of Alias Smith and Jones.  It is claimed that he was one of the most deadly shootists  in the American West.  He was also a known gambler.  (Hey, that sounds like both Heyes and Kid Curry!)

“I found him a loyal friend and good company. He was a dentist whom necessity had made a gambler; a gentleman whom disease had made a vagabond; a philosopher whom life had made a caustic wit; a long, lean blonde fellow nearly dead with consumption and at the same time the most skillful gambler and nerviest, speediest, deadliest man with a six-gun I ever knew.”
 – Wyatt Earp speaking of Doc Holliday

So, there has to be more run-ins between our two former outlaws and Doc Holliday (or maybe Heyes and Curry were outlaws).  Let's hear your stories!

Let the writing begin!   writing

Want to learn more about the Doc for story ideas?

"Do you ever get the feeling that nothing right is ever going to happen to us again?" - Kid Curry
Back to top Go down


Posts : 128
Join date : 2013-10-27
Age : 43

PostSubject: Re: July 18 - Doc Holliday   Sun Jul 01, 2018 11:09 pm

Saddle Talk:  Holidays and Fireworks

“Heyes, I don’t think we’re gonna find a doc on a holiday.”

“If not, maybe the liveryman or blacksmith are around.  Worst case, we can always try honey.”

Kid Curry spoke over his shoulder.  “Honey?  Ain’t that an old wives’ tale?”

Hannibal Heyes shrugged.  “I don’t know, but we won’t know until we try it.”

“That’s if the mercantile is even open to buy honey.  Probably nothin’ will be.”

“Kid, you gotta look on the bright side.  Even on a holiday some establishments have to be open.  People from the local ranches will probably come into town for the festivities, and saddle tramps like us might want to celebrate.  Anyway, it’s a chance we gotta take.  We can’t go much further riding double.”

Curry sighed.  “That’s for sure.  The horses need a rest, and so do we.”

“You’re right, and we have enough for a nice hotel room with a bathtub and steak dinners.”

“But not enough for another horse.”

Heyes smiled.  “Come on, Kid.  For once, we’re flush.  We’ll get off the trail for a few days and relax and let the horses rest and that wound heal up.”  His eyes twinkled and dimples flashed.  “And we can put the extra toward a decent poker stake to get enough to buy another one if the wound’s worse than we think.”

“Is that why you weren’t watchin’ where you were goin’ – so you could have an excuse to play poker?  Like you need one.  If your nose wasn’t in that durned book all the time …”

“Kid, you would think the horse would be able to watch where it was going all by itself and not step in that gopher hole.  Besides, I was reading about Tom Sawyer’s Fourth of July.”

“I hope he had a nicer one than we’re havin’.”

“Except for my horse, we’re doing fine.  It rained on his.”

For some reason, this news sparked Curry’s interest.  “The whole day?”

“Uh huh.  And then he got the measles and spent two weeks in bed.”

The small spark of interest deflated.  “So they needed a doc, too?  I hope his ma was able to find one on the holiday.”

“It was after the holiday, so a doc was around.”

“But we won’t find one.  Dang, Heyes!”

The dark-haired man swept an arm toward the blue sky and few fair weather clouds.  “But our Fourth of July won’t have rain.”

Curry shook his head in disgust.  “Fine, we won’t be rained on.  But what if we know the sheriff and we need to hightail it out of there?  We have two tired horses and one can’t be rid, and we don’t have enough to buy another one, so we’re stuck.  We’ll be able to enjoy the fireworks through the jail window because the jail might be the only place in town that’s open!

“Calm down, Kid,” Heyes soothed.  “This area’s new to us and I don’t think the town’s too big, so it’s pretty good odds we won’t know the sheriff.”

“Only pretty good?  You’re usually bettin’ on odds that’re better than ‘pretty good,’ Heyes.”

His partner rationalized.  “Since we’re new here, I don’t know enough about the place to weigh the odds better than ‘pretty good,’ but I’ll bet they’re way better than that.  Kid, don’t forget we’re a long way from home, so it’s pretty good odds that any sheriff out these parts ain’t expecting Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry to come riding down main street hooting and hollering to rob the bank with the noise of fireworks muffling a blast to the safe.”  He smiled dreamily.  “But, those were the days.”


“Oh, there’s no doubt about that, Kid.  Those were certainly the days.”

“But we’re not goin’ back.”


“But what if your ‘pretty good’ odds are wrong, and we have to steal fresh horses?  Then what, Mr. Genius?”

Heyes was silent as he pondered the question.

Curry turned in the saddle to look at his partner and met Heyes’s gaze.

“I’m still here.”

Kid turned front again to watch the way ahead.  “So you don’t know what we do if we have to go back to stealin’?”

“Kid, you have to have faith in the odds.  It’s the Fourth of July, we’re flush, and we’re going to enjoy the holiday.  The odds are we won’t know the sheriff, so we won’t have to steal horses.  And even if we did, I’m sure I can talk our way out of it somehow.”


“Oh ye of little faith.”  Heyes thought another minute.  “We can tell them we’re bounty hunters on a hot trail.”

Curry rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  As long as we don’t tell them we’re after Kid Curry and that other fella.”

Heyes chuckled.  “Nope.  Hannibal Heyes and what’s his name will be furthest from their minds.  We’ll tell them we’re after the Red Sash Gang and wire Lom to back us up if it comes to that.  He’s always our ace in the hole, isn’t he?”

“I think he’s gettin’ tired of that, too.  We’re supposed to be makin’ it all legal on our own.”

Heyes nodded.  “And we are and Lom knows that.  But he also knows sometimes we need a little help keeping to that deal we got from the governor …”

“But he’s already puttin’ his neck out for us.”

“Yes, he is.  And since he has almost as much to lose as we do, odds are it’s in his best interest to back us up if we need it.”

“That’s your whole plan, Heyes?  It’s soundin’ pretty thin.”

“Just playing the odds, Kid.  Gotta keep your eyes on the odds.”

Curry sighed loudly and shook his head.  Sometimes it just made no sense to argue with his partner’s reasoning.  

They rode in companionable silence until they reached the town limits.  Trailing Heyes’s horse behind them, they kept their heads down as they rode past the sheriff’s office.  They did not know him.

The doctor’s office had a closed sign in the door.  Odds were he could probably be reached in an emergency, but perhaps a horse with a wound on his leg would not qualify.

They found the livery stable at the far end of town.  It was open and the stable hand said he would doctor the wound for an extra two bits a day.  Flush as they were and with the odds going their way, they did not attempt to talk the price down.  

Continuing the trend, they found and splurged on a room at the hotel overlooking the main street and sheriff’s office with two beds and a bathtub.  After washing off the trail dust and in clean clothes, they enjoyed a steak dinner with all the trimmings in the hotel dining room.

Heyes sipped his wine.  “See, Thaddeus.  What’d I tell you about the odds being pretty good?”

Curry sighed.  “Do you want me to tell you you were right and I was wrong?”

“No.  Just enjoy the holiday."  Heyes added, "Even if the doc isn’t around.”

“Okay.”  Kid raised a glass to toast.  “Here’s to the fireworks stayin' here and not followin' us out of town.”

Heyes grinned.  “I’ll drink to that.”

Fast is fine, but accuracy is everything. ~ Wyatt Earp
Back to top Go down


Posts : 55
Join date : 2016-06-29

PostSubject: Re: July 18 - Doc Holliday   Sat Jul 07, 2018 12:19 am

Hello everyone! I thought I'd jump in even if I'm two years late on starting this. (Was it really 2016 I first discovered this place? Sheesh.) I generally take far too long on my stories, which generally end up being novellas, heh. So it is refreshing to have a word limit, although I know I'll always be tempted to over edit. That's why I'm posting now, so that I won't tweak this story 50 times in July! So please forgive a rookie her inexperience if the formatting looks wrong and just let me know I've strayed off the path. As a final note, I love this fandom and I am excited to participate in this section of it more often. Enjoy reading!

Doc Holliday:
A Case of Mistaken Identity
by Elleree

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were at their usual spot at the mahogany topped bar with a bottle of whisky in front of them. They stood at the side-end so they had a clear view of the swinging doors. Sam, the friendly bartender, put down two clean glasses and allowed Heyes and the Kid to take a couple of hard-boiled eggs. He then promptly moved the egg basket to the opposite end.

Heyes laughed. “Looks like Sam knows you by now.”

“Yeah,” Kid said. “Or he remembers your stand the egg on its’ head trick.”  

If Curry’s tone was slightly proddy, that was because he’d only swiped two eggs. He decided that since they were flush, after their drinks they were going to get a nice full meal—whether Heyes knew it or not.

“Looks like they’ve got a poker game goin’ on in the corner,” Heyes said, interested.

“It’ll still be there after we get dinner.”

“Dinner?” Heyes replied. “We might as well have stayed at the Howard’s, if all we’re doin’ in town is eating.”

The partners had been in the town of Silverton for a few weeks and the Howards were paying them good money for doing basic repairs around the elderly couple’s home and helping them build a barn on their property outside the town limits. They didn’t have to pay for lodging, Mrs. Howard was a decent cook, they liked the town, and everyone had been real friendly. In fact, both Heyes and the Kid were slightly uneasy because everything had been going so well. They hadn’t even had an accident with a hammer.

“You can play poker after I get a steak. Mrs. Howard can definitely cook but did ya ever notice she mainly cooks soft stuff? If I have another stew or soup or pudding I might turn into one,” Kid admitted.

“I did. No doubt because her husband—“

“Can’t keep track of his teeth!” Heyes and the Kid said together, repeating a refrain they’d said many times. They laughed.

Finding Mr. Howard’s teeth had become an unofficial side job they’d both had far too many times to count. The man had the worst habit of taking his false teeth out when he was working on a project or thinking deeply. The problem wasn’t just his, as the partner’s had narrowly avoided sitting down on them or stepping on them and had found them all kinds of places including on a dining room chair, a side table, the inside of a drinking glass, and once, in the outhouse. Thankfully they’d been laid down on top of the clean paper out there.

“Well, besides tonight, what d’you figure, Heyes? We stickin’ around for the rest of the month?” Kid asked quietly, peeling his eggs.

“We should, this is a good situation. Sure the work ain’t all easy but the beds are soft, the people are friendly and the money’s good.”

“Meanin’ there’s a part of you that ain’t satisfied,” Kid said knowingly.

“I’m plenty satisfied now. The problem is what comes after the good streak,” Heyes replied.

“Always do worry most when you’ve got nothin’ to worry about,” Kid said with a smile, although he shared Heyes’ sentiments to some extent.

“Hey Doc!” A man’s shrill voice blared as its owner stomped down the steps from the rented rooms upstairs. “Doc! Hey you! I’m calling you out!”

The voice was obnoxious and loud. Kid and Heyes exchanged a look. The blonde haired man started to turn around as the newcomer was approaching from the one direction they couldn’t view, but Heyes gave a small shake of his head. Not our business.

It is if they shoot at us, Kid’s look responded.

Heyes sighed and the two turned in unison to see a small man with a large pistol gesturing toward them.

“You, Doc Holliday!” the man screeched, waving the gun in their direction.

Both Kid and Heyes looked perplexed at this development and looked around as if to see if Doc Holliday had materialized next to them. Nope.

“Uh? Beg your pardon…?” Heyes asked, putting his whisky glass down on the counter.

Kid finished the last bite of egg. No sense wasting it.

“I know it’s you. You’re Doc Holliday and you killed my brother in Jacksboro! The yellow dogs there wouldn’t do nothin’ but I aim to make things right!”

“Excuse me,” Kid said peaceably, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Which of us do you think is Doc Holliday? Either way, you’ve got the wrong guy, mister.”

The man shook his head. His oily hair flapped as he moved and the black coat he wore was so filthy and full of holes that even Kyle Murtry wouldn’t be seen in it. “It’s him! He killed my brother!”

He pointed his gun at Heyes.

“What? I am definitely not Doc Holliday. I’m far more handsome and play better poker,” Heyes said with a grin. “My name’s Joshua Smith, how about you have a whisky with us and introduce yourself? Hey Sam, can we get another glass?”

It was a rare occasion when they could deny the accusation of being an infamous scoundrel and actually be telling the truth. Kid might have found the situation funny except for the gun.

“Look, sir,” the warmth faded from Kid’s voice as he stepped in front of Heyes. “You’re mistaken. My friend here ain’t Doc Holliday and I sure ain’t Wyatt Earp. Does he look consumptive to you? He ain’t even southern.”

“He’s skinny,” the man said stubbornly. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s him.” The gun came back up.

Kid’s hands were relaxed on his belt. “An’ I’m tellin’ you it ain’t. Why don’t you just go on about your business and try some other city?”

“Or what?” The man clicked back the hammer on his Peacemaker and would have pulled the trigger but the gun went flying through the air after Kid drew and shot it across the bar all before the other man could twitch his finger. The bartender went after the gun and picked it up from the floor.

“Those two ain’t Earp and Holliday, you crazy old coot!” Sam yelled, glancing at Heyes and Curry. “You fellas alright?”

“Fine, Sam.” Kid twirled his gun back into his holster just as the Sheriff walked in. The cousins tried not to visibly tense—so far they’d avoided the man but lawmen had a way of making their teeth grit on their own accord.

“Heard gunfire,” the tin star said. “What’s happened now?”

Heyes gave Kid a side glance that may or may not have had a small measure of blame. Kid shrugged a little like, You’re welcome for saving your life.

Sam pointed at the angry, greasy little man who stood trembling. “That fella there was botherin’ my customers and causin’ trouble and wingin’ his gun around. He called out Joshua, this fella here, as Doc Holliday. Guess he figured his partner Thaddeus was Wyatt Earp. Thaddeus took an amazing shot, though, disarmin’ the man. You shoulda seen it.”

The sheriff glanced at Kid who smiled innocently.

“Yes, Thaddeus always had good aim for close range. A little further away, though, and he wouldn’t have been able to hit him if he tried,” Heyes said brightly.

The sheriff wasted no time in cuffing the would-be shootist, having apparently decided to dismiss ‘Thaddeus and Joshua’.

“I’m pretty sure I have a poster with your description, sir,” the lawman was saying. “But if not, you can cool your heels in jail anyway. That man isn’t Doc Holliday—I’ve had the dubious pleasure of meeting him and neither of those two is him.” He glanced at Curry. “Thanks for keeping a cool head. Most people woulda just shot this man.”

“No problem Sheriff,” Kid said with a triumphant smirk at Heyes.

“I thought they was Holliday and Earp,” the small man said with a whine as the lawman pushed him to the door.

The bartender laughed. “Ha! Don’t look a thing like them. No, if you two were anybody you’d be…. Hmm. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? King Fisher and Ben Thompson? No… I know! Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry!"

The partners looked at each other and then at the sheriff, who had paid Sam no mind and was still headed out the door with his prisoner. They finally smiled.

“That so?” Kid asked. “I guess I wouldn’t mind being mistaken for Kid Curry, him being such an impressive guy an’ all. Much better than that other fella.”

“Hannibal Heyes,” Sam said.

Heyes gave his partner a look. “Really? Because I’d prefer to be Hannibal Heyes, the genius and man with a plan, as opposed to what’s-his-name.”

“Kid Curry,” the bartender corrected. “Sheesh. Don’t you two ever read the dime novels?”

Heyes and Curry both laughed at that.

“No, Sam, no, we usually don’t,” Heyes said.

“It’s because we live them,” Kid said under his breath.

Heyes laughed.

Sam had left to fetch a broom and clean up the eggshells, but he glanced at the partners as he passed. “Your next drinks are on me!”

“Thanks,” they said and poured another.

They watched until Sam went off to the other side of the bar. Heyes finished his drink. “Thanks, by the way. “

“Yep,” Kid replied.

“I think I probably could have taken him, though,” Heyes said, mischief in his brown eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Kid asked, downing his shot. “How do ya figure?”

The gun had already been out and though Heyes was a fine shot and accurate, he didn’t possess Kid’s speed. Still, most people underestimated his skill with a weapon.

“Well, if he was blind enough to think that I’m Doc Holliday and you’re Wyatt Earp, he would’ve been blind enough to miss me,” Heyes said with a smirk. He glanced at the money on the bar to make certain they had enough to cover the first drink.

Kid just shook his head. “So ‘man with a plan,’ what’s the current one?”

“First we go get dinner, and then I win more money at poker. Tomorrow we find out if the lunatic is staying in jail and then we decide whether or not we’re finishing the month at the Howard’s house based on that,” Heyes said, slinging an arm around his partner and leading him outside.

“Sounds good but I got a plan, too, Heyes,” Kid said.

“What’s that?”

“To have you lookin’ after Mr. Howard’s teeth the rest of the time. It’s only fittin’, seein’ as you’re Doc Holliday an’ a dentist and all.”

“Hah,” Heyes said and the two walked in to the eatery across the street. “Y’know, Kid, you make me think you might need to get your wisdom teeth pulled.”


“Because you’re such a smart mouth.”

Last edited by Elleree on Fri Jul 27, 2018 1:20 pm; edited 1 time in total
Back to top Go down
Nebraska Wildfire

Nebraska Wildfire

Posts : 107
Join date : 2016-10-31
Location : The Sonoran Desert

PostSubject: Doc Holliday   Fri Jul 20, 2018 10:20 pm

It was west of Denver that they ran into Doc Holliday for the third and last time.

Through some strategic card-playing Heyes and the Kid had accumulated almost enough money for the buy-in to a poker tournament to be held at the lavish Hotel Colorado in Glenwood Springs.  All they now needed was an actual loan from their dear friend Clementine Hale for the remainder.  That had been much harder to acquire.

“Lend you money?  My money?” Clem exclaimed, when they had met her for supper at the Brown Palace, one of the nights they were in Denver.  “For a poker game?”  She narrowed her eyes.  “Didn’t you try this with Georgette?”

“Yes, we did,” Heyes nodded.

“But she didn’t give it to us, even though we helped her as we agreed,” the Kid continued.

“You do owe us, Clem,” Heyes continued.  “For keeping your father out of prison.”

“Not two thousand dollars!” she exclaimed.

“But we’ll never again be this close to the buy-in,” the Kid pleaded.

“We’ll pay you back,” Heyes insisted.  “With interest.”

“What happens if you lose it all?” Clementine queried.

“I won’t,” Heyes laughed, and favored her with one of his dimpled smiles.

“Promise me you’ll pay me back,” Clem insisted.  “Even if you don’t win.”

“We promise,” the boys chimed in together.

“Oh, how can I refuse you both,” Clem smiled, and Heyes and Curry smiled back.

“Clem, if we knew it meant you were coming along, we might have found another way to raise the money.”

Hannibal Heyes, Kid Curry and Clementine Hale had checked into the luxurious Hotel Colorado on Pine Street, one of the main streets in Glenwood Springs.  The hotel was surrounded by fountains of awe-inspiring heights.  The lobby was sumptuous, full of burgundy velvet and mahogany.  The suite in which they were staying reflected this richness.

In actuality though, it was Mr. and Mr. Joshua Smith and their cousin, Mr. Thaddeus Jones, who had checked into this magnificent hotel, as Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry had yet to acquire their amnesty.  Mr. Smith had suggested flipping a coin, to decide to whom Miss Clementine Hale was to appear married, so as to have no hard feelings.

“No, Heyes,” the Kid shook his head decisively.  “It’s your turn.”

“Why now, Kid, it will only be for a few days,” Heyes cajoled.  “Besides it’s a very different situation than the last time.  We should flip a coin.”

“If you two argue about this again, treating me like I’m a bad penny, I’m going to start thinking I should have just stayed home.”  Clementine did not look very happy.

“Well, now, Clem, I think that’s what we had suggested,” the Kid began.

“If you two think I’m going to give you two thousand dollars, and not keep an eye on it, you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“Clem, you know they don’t usually let spectators into this level of game,” Heyes admonished.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Clementine replied with a determined smile.  “But it won’t stop me from trying.”

It was that night at dinner that they ran into Doc Holliday again.  Clem had insisted that they dress formally for dinner, and as it fit the persona Heyes wanted to present, he readily agreed.  They had just arrived at the maitre d’ station, when a commotion started.

“Mr. Holliday, certainly, you might want to go to your room to freshen up,” the maitre d’ started to explain.  “Or perhaps even enjoy the relaxation of a meal in your room.”

“First, of all, my good man, it is Doctor Holliday, especially to you, and second, I do not want to eat in my room, so give me a table before I shoot up this fine establishment.”  Doc swayed on his feet, but they were not certain if it was because of copious amounts of liquor having been consumed, the remnants of which wafted over to Clem and the boys, or if it could be attributed to what was the obvious decline in his health.  Doc had always dressed as a bit of a dandy for the West.  Heyes had attributed it to Holliday’s being raised back East.  Now, however, it looked like he had slept in his clothes.

It had been about a year since the boys had seen Doc in Ashford.  Heyes was shocked at the difference.  Before Holliday had been coughing, but he had still appeared fairly healthy.  Now he looked skeletal.  Before he thought about it too long or too deeply, Heyes started forward, and grasped Doc’s elbow.

“Hey, Doc,” he smiled at Holliday, as a confused look crossed the doctor’s face.  “Right on time.”

“Joshua?” Holliday dragged the name out of his addled brain.  “Joshua Smith?”

“Yes, of course, Doc,” Heyes saw something cross Holliday’s eyes that he was certain he did not want to discuss right now.  “Remember, we were meeting tonight, you, me, Jones here, and our dear Clementine.”  He turned with Holliday, pasted on a smile, and faced the maitre ‘d.  “Perhaps a nice quiet table, towards the back?”  Something of the forceful, charismatic leader showed out of his eyes.

The maitre d’ nodded gratefully, as a short line of diners had started to accumulate at his station.  “There is a nice table for four, towards the side door that leads back into the guest rooms.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Clementine took Doc’s other arm, and with Heyes steered Holliday in the correct direction.  “I do not believe we have met before, but we can rectify that at the table.”

Once they were all seated and menus placed into their hands, a silence settled on them until the waiter appeared.

“Bring us one of your good bottles of Bordeaux,” Holliday managed to say before a coughing fit forced him to bring out his handkerchief.  “In honor of the lovely lady here.”

“My apologies, Doc,” Heyes started.  “Clem, as you’ve probably guessed, this here is Doc Holliday.”

“John Henry Holliday, my dear woman.”  In spite of the disease racking his body, Holliday still mustered a charming smile.

“Clementine Hale,” she replied, returning his with a sweet smile of her own.

“Clementine Hale Smith,” Heyes reminded her with a tight smile, and a bit of a glare.

“We’ve not been married that long, so you’ll have to forgive me for being flustered, dear,” she returned the glare, and turned back towards Doc.  “Especially with such a famous dinner companion.”

The waiter chose that moment to bring the wine, so they were occupied for the next few minutes with the opening of the bottle.  Silence had descended on the table again, but glances were exchanged.  After a perfunctory tasting, Holliday sent the waiter away, as soon as possible.  He started to peruse the menu, but glanced up at Heyes, then Curry, then curiously at Clem.

“Recently married, are you?  Then I would think you’d be used to having dinner with famous people.”  He glanced down, and then back up at Heyes and then the Kid once more.  “I met up with my friend, Wyatt Earp in Denver recently, and did as you suggested the last time we met, Thaddeus.”  There was an emphasis on the name.

“And what was that?” Heyes asked cautiously.

“We discussed the time we all met in Tombstone.”  Doc Holliday’s gaze was as clear as it had been that evening.  “And that first time you and I played poker, Joshua.  Seldom have I met anyone else as skilled.”

“But you beat me in the end, both times we’ve met up,” Heyes reminded him.

“Yes, I have, haven’t I?”  Holliday’s gaze wavered as he took a drink of the wine, but they could tell he was wanting to say more.  He looked towards the Kid.  “And I’ve never seen anyone pull a gun on me as fast as you did in Ashford, Thaddeus.”  Again, he emphasized the name, but then smiled.  “And not even try to kill me.”

“I imagine that’s probably something unique,” Heyes said, glancing at his partner, wondering what all had happened in Ashford before he had arrived.

“Yes, you and your friend definitely are a pair not to be forgotten.”  Holliday paused and looked down, taking another drink.  He continued, almost to himself.  “Definitely not what would be expected.”  He shook his head and looked up at them both.  “Not at all.”

Curry glanced sideways at Heyes, and Clem glanced from the boys back to Holliday.

“Well, I for one would like to just enjoy a nice meal, without having to discuss poker, in particular the big game tomorrow,” Clem stated emphatically.

“You don’t care for poker, my dear?” Doc inquired solicitously, but then started coughing loudly enough that it garnered the attention of other diners.  After it subsided, he took a deep drink of the wine, and looked to Heyes.  “That is surprising, considering to whom you are married.”

“Yes, well,” Clementine seemed a bit nonplussed for once, but then bravely continued.  “He should be very grateful that we are spending part of our honeymoon,” Clem glanced sharply at Heyes. “That I am letting him spend part of our honeymoon in the game.”

Holliday looked again at Heyes.  “You are entered in the game, too?”

Heyes felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his soul.  “And you are, as well?”  It came out as a question, but Heyes already knew the answer.  His gaze shifted toward Curry, who was slowly closing his eyes.

“What do you mean, you’ll have to let him win?” Clem asked Heyes, when they were back in their suite, after dinner had completed.

It had been a fascinating, but somewhat painful experience.  The food had been excellent, but Heyes noticed that Holliday ate little.  He had ordered prime rib, the same as the boys, but had focused more on the wine, ordering a second, and then a third bottle.  Holliday had been nothing but polite, especially with Clementine at the table, even making a great effort to stand, as they left.

He had also obviously made a great effort to let the boys know that he knew exactly who they were, even without saying it.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to turn us in for the reward,” the Kid shook his head.

“He knows who you are?” Clementine exclaimed.  “Who you really are?”  She looked form the Kid to Heyes.  “How?”

“Earp,” they both replied.

“As in Wyatt Earp?” she asked.  “He’s supposed to be handsome too.”  A small smile crossed her face.

“Clem, you better never plan to get married,” Heyes sighed.  “Or your husband is always going to be annoyed, the way you flirt with every man in sight.”

“Now, boys, you know that isn’t true.”  She sounded offended, sort of.

The Kid just laughed.  “You thought Holliday was handsome?”

“Well,” Clem paused and then continued.  “Yes, he’s obviously under the weather, but you can tell he had to be handsome when he was younger.”

“Clem,” Heyes paused himself.  “You know he’s dying.”

“Well,” she looked thoughtful.  “Maybe he just needs the care of a loving woman.”

“No,” Heyes shook his head.  “He’s consumptive.”

“Sometimes consumptives live for years,” Clem replied.

“He already has,” the Kid replied quietly.

“Oh.”  She looked thoughtful.  “But why does that mean you have to let him win the poker game?”

“Because either he or Earp will turn us in if we don’t.”  Heyes sighed.

“That’s basically what Wyatt Earp told us, when we met them in Tombstone,” the Kid supplied.

“If he knew who you were,” the boys could see Clem’s brain working.  “Why didn’t he just turn you in then?”

“Because he cared more for preserving Doc’s reputation,” Heyes replied.  “I had beat him in poker, so I had to lose to him to set it straight.”

“I never understand you men, and your need for a reputation.”  Clementine shook her head.  “But then you met him again?”

Heyes nodded.  “In Ashford.”  He looked over to the Kid, who seemed to cringe a bit.  “That’s another long story, but I had to lose to him again.”

“So why can’t you win now?” Clem persisted.

“I just can’t,” Heyes shook his head.  “Even if we weren’t worried about Wyatt Earp.”

“Well, then just back out of the game,” Clementine insisted.

“It’s too late,” Heyes shook his head.  “I’ve already given them my buy-in.”

The next night, when the men gathered in the mahogany trimmed poker room, Doc looked even worse than the night before.  Heyes had not thought that possible, but it obviously was.

“You certain you’re up to this, Doc?” Heyes asked, hoping for his own kind of miracle.

“Never backed down from a challenge, Joshua,” Holliday managed a smile, before he almost collapsed in a coughing fit.  Heyes helped him to settle in one of the chairs around the table, but then took a seat a few spots down, as the other players started to make their way into the room.

It had been a long night for all.  The Kid and Clementine sat in the foyer, with other spectators, waiting for the outcome.  Heyes watched Doc grow weaker and weaker as the night progressed.  The other players allowed for longer and longer breaks, but it did not seem to help Doc.

It was almost dawn when the last hand was played.  Most of the money had made its way to the piles in front of Heyes and Doc Holliday.  Heyes had continued raising, until almost all the cash in front of him was in the pot.  He had kept out Clementine’s two thousand dollars, but not much more.  He saw that Doc had just enough to raise him one more time.  Heyes planned to fold on the next round.  He knew, all too well, that even with some of the bad luck they had occasionally, they still had been extremely lucky in their lives.  He locked eyes with Holliday as he started to count the last of his money.  Heyes knew that given a few different decisions, he and the Kid could have been exactly where Doc found himself now.  He took a deep breath and waited, ready to throw down his cards.

Holliday looked down at the last pile of money in his hands, and then up, locking gazes again.  Several emotions crossed his face.  A couple worried Heyes, and at least one frightened him.  Then Doc looked down at his cards one last time, and placed them face down on the table.

“Fold.”  An intense spasm caught Holliday and he coughed for a good minute.  When he finally had his breath back, he finished off the glass of whiskey in front of him.  “Looks like you’ve won, young man.  Maybe that pot will bring you better luck than my winnings have brought me.”

Heyes just stared at him, not really understanding what just happened.  Before he could confront Holliday, Doc rose, wished everyone a good night, and turned to make his way up the stairs.  Heyes tried to follow, but his fellow players crowded around him, to share their congratulations.  Before he could free himself, he heard Clem’s voice, clear as a bell, coming in from the foyer.

“He won?”  Suddenly Heyes found himself the recipient of a happy hug from Clementine.  He freed himself just in time to turn to Curry, whose worried look reflected his own.

“You beat Doc?” the Kid asked.

Heyes shook his head.  “I’m not certain.”

It was the next morning when they came down for breakfast that they heard the news.  Doc Holliday was gone.  He had died during the night.

They attended the funeral, along with most of the town.  It was during the eulogy at the graveside when they learned that John Henry “Doc” Holliday had been born in 1851, a year after Heyes, and a year before the Kid.

The three didn’t talk much after the funeral.  They just boarded the train, to take Clementine back to Denver.  It was in the dark of the night, with most of the passengers on the train sleeping, that the Kid locked eyes with Heyes.  Clem was asleep, resting against Heyes’ shoulder.

“So why did he let you win?”

“Maybe he was worried about more than his reputation.”  Heyes looked out into the dark.  He muttered something to himself.

“What was that, Heyes?” the Kid asked.

Heyes paused before repeating himself.  “There but for the grace of God, go we.”

The Kid looked startled, but just for a moment.  Then he nodded.

“Happy I asked you what amnesty was, even as long as it seems to be taking?”

Heyes let out a breath, and nodded.  A smile made its way across his face.  “With the twenty thousand dollars Doc bequeathed us?  Definitely.”

“Eighteen thousand, boys,” came a sleepy voice close to Heyes.  “And remember my interest.”

Curry looked out the window for a moment, but then turned back with a gentle smile towards Clementine.

“Clem, how could we ever forget?”

Back to top Go down

Posts : 18
Join date : 2017-11-24
Age : 57
Location : New York

PostSubject: Re: July 18 - Doc Holliday   Tue Jul 24, 2018 4:31 am

Here I confess:  The topic of Doc Holliday is absolute Catherine-nip, as I have a mad crush on Doc Holliday as played by Tim Rozon on Wynonna Earp.  Like almost, but not quite, Hannibal Heyes-level crush.  I rewatched both ASJ episodes with Doc Holliday in them, but the depiction of Doc and the storyline about how they met did not inspire me, so I've ignored canon and given them a different first meeting.  This is not a crossover: I've cast Tim as a more historical version of Doc than the one he usually plays, but it's him in appearance and speech patterns.  

*  *  *  *  *  

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” came a softly drawling voice from just behind them.

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, both seated at the bar, turned around quickly to see a tall, thin man with a drooping mustache standing there.  He had dark hair, light eyes, and an ever-so-slightly arrogant expression.

“I do beg your pardon, but I b’lieve the two of you are new around these parts.  And this town, despite its many charms, is sorely deficient in anyone who can give me a decent game of poker.”

“Well, we’d like to oblige, but—“ the Kid began, before his partner jumped in.

“That is, we’d like to find a good game, ourselves.”

“But Joshua, weren’t we?”  Blue eyes met dark ones, with a glance that spoke volumes. “On our way out of town?”

Heyes shook his head.  “Don’t have to be leaving ‘til the day after next.  Not if there’s something worth staying around for, that is.  But three of us, that’s not much of a game, now is it?”

“I’m sure I can rustle up one or two more who aren’t entirely unworthy of the challenge,” said the stranger.

“Well, then, that sounds like a plan,” said Heyes.  “Name’s Joshua Smith, and this my partner, Thaddeus Jones.”

“John Henry,” said the man, extending a hand for a shake, first to Heyes and then to Curry.  “But folks mostly call me Doc.”  He coughed a little, turning his head away.

The two reformed outlaws looked at each other again, Curry’s expression projecting “Now what have you gotten us into?” and Heyes’ responding shrug suggesting “Could be fun?  Maybe?”

Eight hours later, Hannibal Heyes had to concede that there might be one or two people in the world who were better poker players than he was.  One, named John Henry “Doc” Holliday, in particular.

“Told you so,” muttered Kid Curry, who’d dropped out of the game several hours in, and still had enough money that he and Heyes could at least pay their hotel bill.

As Heyes pushed the rest of his chips in Doc’s direction, and folded, with a disgusted look on his face, Holliday raised his hand as if to stop the other man from leaving.  

“If you and your partner would like to earn some of that back, I got a job needs doin’, and I could surely use your help.”  Doc coughed again, as he’d been doing throughout the evening, a hacking cough that never seemed so much to end as to simply pull itself back, waiting for the next time.

Kid Curry rolled his eyes, but then nodded.  The remaining players excused themselves.

“We’re listening,” said Heyes.

“I require an escort for a small” *cough* “delivery I am making.  Though I am well capable of” *cough* “handling myself, I am expecting that I may not be allowed to make it” *cough* “without a certain level of, shall we say, interference?”

Heyes and Curry simply looked at him.

“That is, I am concerned about an . . . unevenness in numbers.  Two more on my side would go a long way to reassuring me as to my personal safety.  Especially two such as yourselves.”

“What makes you think we’d be any good as escorts?” asked Heyes.

Holliday coughed again, raising a handkerchief to his mouth.  “You, I can tell, are a man of many talents, and I am certain well able to take care of yourself.” He turned his gaze to Curry.  “And you, sir, I can see from the way you carry yourself, from the way you look around every room you walk into, and from a certain something about your air . . . you are obviously a man who knows your way around a gun.”

Curry looked away from something intense in the man’s gaze.

“What is this delivery you’re making?” asked Heyes, somewhat abruptly.

Holliday’s light eyes were shaded by his hat, and his mouth partially covered by his drooping mustache, so that he could almost mask the troubled expression that crossed his features.  “I have been dying since I was fourteen years old, and first contracted this disease.   And I have lived far longer than ever was expected, by myself or anyone else.  But the end is coming, and there is someone dear to me, someone to whom I wish to pass along most of the funds I have accumulated at the card table and elsewhere.” He coughed.  

“Big Nose Kate?” asked Curry.  The story of Doc Holliday and his on-again off-again lover was almost as widely known as the story of the OK Corral itself.

“You will understand that I am less than enamored of that nickname,” said Holliday, mildly.  “But yes, Kate, my lady love.  She is living several days’ ride from here, at the moment, and I would like to see the money in her hands before my end.”

The two ex-outlaws looked at each other, then turned back to Doc Holliday.  

“Who exactly are you expecting to be after you?  Someone wantin’ to steal the money, or a posse, thinkin’ some of it might belong to them?”  Curry couldn’t help but express his suspicions.

“We’d prefer to stay on the right side of the law,” Heyes said, quickly.

Doc looked them up and down once again.  “I see.  Well, as it happens, you are in luck.  My well-known friendship with Wyatt Earp has had a salutary effect on my dealings with the law.  But I have had remarkably good luck in recent months, and my winnings are beginning to hang heavy on me – which is why I’d be happy for you to earn back what you lost last night.”

“Don’t think it’s luck,” muttered Heyes, while Curry satisfied himself with “Too much money?”

“They say you can’t take it with you, and as I have said, I am nearing the end of my road.”

The details having been finalized, Heyes and Curry made their excuses, and Holliday settled in at the bar for what looked
to be a long night’s drinking.

“I hope he’s in shape to ride with us tomorrow,” said Curry to his partner.

“I don’t think he’s in shape for much, Kid, and I also don’t think that’s gonna stop him.”

The next morning, Doc Holliday was waiting for them in their hotel lobby, looking like death warmed over.  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, with a chipper attitude which entirely contradicted his appearance.

They rode out of town, and for most of the day, without incident.  That evening, by previous agreement, they stopped at a saloon which was one of the few buildings in a small settlement.  While Kid Curry turned his attention to a sandwich and a beer, Heyes and Holliday scanned the room to see if any interesting gambling was going on.

Having looked around, Heyes thought better of it, and remained with his partner at the bar.  Holliday, however, seemed restless, wandering up to the stage where a second-rate chanteuse sang a song, and over past an intense-looking card game.  He returned, and ordered a round of whiskeys.  

“Well, I’ve seen all I need to see, for now,” he said.  They ate and drank – Holliday eating almost nothing, and drinking at twice the rate of his companions – for a time in quiet, until they heard someone clearing his throat, and turned around to find a small group of men standing behind, now in front, of them.

“Doc Holliday, we meet again,” said one of them, a not especially intelligent-looking man, squarely built and with a sneer on his face.

“I must ask you to excuse me, sir, but I’m afraid I no longer recall the circumstances of our first acquaintance.” There was something at once both arrogant and polite in his drawling tones.

The man spat into the sawdust on the floor at Holliday’s feet.  “You came close to ruining me, year before last, and you’ve got the front to say you don’t remember?”

“My health being what it is, sir, and my gambling being, alas, frequent, there is much I don’t remember.”  He coughed.  “I hope that you have learned a valuable lesson, however – that you should never wager anything you cannot afford to lose.”

At that, the man lunged for Doc, but Heyes and Curry intervened, Heyes interposing himself between the two and Curry grabbing the aggressor by the shoulders.  The man and his friends looked like they were ready to brawl, ‘til they saw the icy look in Curry’s blue eyes, and backed down.

Holliday’s accuser and his friends made their way outside through the saloon’s swinging doors.  Once things had settled down, Holliday said, “It appears I have made a good choice of travelling companions.”

In the morning, they started out early, as they planned to arrive at Kate’s before nightfall.  Things went smoothly for most of the morning, as the terrain was wide open and there was nowhere really for potential trouble to hide.  Shortly before noon, however, they found themselves approaching more mountainous terrain, and grew wary.

It was when they were riding single file through a narrow valley in the foothills that they were set upon, by half-a-dozen men.  Before Heyes could even draw his sidearm, both Doc and the Kid had let off shots.  But while Holliday shot his man square in the chest, Curry hit his in the shoulder and knocked him back off his horse.  The one who Curry shot would certainly recover, while Doc’s might not.

“Clever,” muttered Holliday, and changed tactics, following Curry, and hitting his next square on the upper arm, as the Kid did.

Heyes, a fine shot but not in the same class as the other two, waited until the men drew nearer, but as the two unwounded turned tail and ran, ended up firing merely a warning shot. “Not stoppin’ to help their boys?” he muttered.

“All but the one should be able to ride their horses, once they catch ‘em,” Curry replied.  Their erstwhile foes were mostly up and moving about, but seemed to have lost interest in their quarry, and rather, retreated after their mounts.  Only Doc’s first wounded lay utterly still, and it was Curry and Heyes who rode up to see if they could assist him.

It was too late, however, and he expired, even as Doc himself approached his victim.  “Unfortunately, I am not so much a physician, as a dentist, as you may have heard.  I do have some rudimentary training, but I am afraid that my aim was a bit too true.”

“We don’t hold with killin’, when it can be avoided, but . . . “

“This’ll be reckoned self-defense,” said Doc, narrowing his eyes.  “And not just because of my friendship with Wyatt.”  He looked at them more closely.  “But I’ve only heard of one man whose shooting equaled my own and who avoided killing, Mister Curry.  I thought it might be you – rumor has it you’ve been laying low and staying out of trouble with the law.”

“No, you’re mistaken.  My name is Thaddeus Jones.”

“Jones and Smith?  What are the odds of that?  Which makes your friend, who gave me quite the run at the poker table, the equally legendary Hannibal Heyes.”  *cough* “Having been on both sides of the law, myself, if you are making a change in your life, I support you entirely.  But I will have to report this man’s death to the sheriff.”  *cough* He looked at the pair.  “The responsibility is mine, but I expect we should part ways before we arrive in town.”

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” said Heyes.  “Just because, although we’re not them, we do bear a distinct resemblance to . . . “

Holliday reached inside his breast pocket, and withdrew a number of banknotes.  “What was promised, and a little more, for the pleasure of your company.  And because I have a distinct soft spot for men like myself, who’ve seen both sides of things.  Farewell, Mister Heyes and Mister Curry.”

“We’re not—“ Kid Curry began, but Heyes simply nodded and said, “Goodbye . . . Doc.”

Doc Holliday was wracked by a spasm of coughing, but in a moment, had recovered himself.  “When you hear of my demise, as is sure to happen within the next year, I just ask that you drink a glass of whiskey in my honor.”  Then he mounted his horse, and rode away.

The outlaws watched him go, and then turned south, in the opposite direction from their recent assailants.

“I only wish,” said the Kid, “that we could’ve met Big Nose Kate.  She’s supposed to be quite the lady, despite the—“ he gestured at his own nose.

“Probably just as well we didn’t,” mused Heyes, “or with your patented Kid Curry charm, you might’ve made Doc jealous and gotten him to change his mind about telling the law about us.”

The Kid laughed.  “I dunno, Heyes.  You might be more her type – the dark-haired gambler in a battered black hat.”

Heyes just gave his partner that winning smile of his and said, “Guess we’ll never know, Kid.  Guess we’ll never know.”

And off they rode.
Back to top Go down

Posts : 1385
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 57
Location : Northern California

PostSubject: Re: July 18 - Doc Holliday   Fri Jul 27, 2018 12:54 pm

MISSING SCENES to "Which Way to the OK Corral?"

“Kid, where are you going?” Georgette pouted as Kid Curry turned to leave once he walked her to her hotel room.

“Since you’re safe in your room for the evenin’ and no one’s in your room, I thought I’d check to see how Heyes was doin’ before goin’ to the Crystal Palace Saloon.”

“Is Heyes playin’ poker with Doc at The Birdcage?”

“Yep, and still winnin’, last I heard.”

“And why are you going to the Crystal Palace Saloon?”

Curry hesitated for a moment.  “For some leisure time...”

“Why not just stay here and keep me company?”

“George, me and you may be friends, but I’m plannin’ to get real friendly with one of the Crystal Palace gals.”

“Oh, you men!”  George crossed her arms in front of her and sat on the bed.

“Bye, George!  Lock the door.”  Kid Curry grinned at he shut the door to her room.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Kid quietly stood back with the crowd and watch the tense playing of a round of cards between Doc Holliday and Heyes.

“I’ll raise you a $1,000.”  Heyes pushed more money in the pile.

Doc Holliday coughed into his hankie.  “Call.”

“Four kings.”

Holliday threw down his cards and hacked some more while Heyes pulled the pile of money towards himself.

“How about a short break?”

“Sure, Doc,” Heyes agreed and stood up to stretch.

Kid Curry gestured with a nod towards a corner of the room and both men made their way to it.

“Kid, it’s like taking candy from a baby!  I can’t lose!” Heyes beamed.

“Think you oughta be takin’ that much candy, Heyes?  Aren’t you gettin’ a tad greedy there?” the Kid asked.

“Greedy?  I’m just thinking of you, partner!  I know you’ve been wantin’ to spend the winter in Santa Marta and now we can.”

Well, if you put it that way!”  Curry grinned.

“What did you find out following Bart?”

“He went to a ranch – Will and Emma McIntyre’s ranch.  Came back to town and deposited $1,000 in the bank.”

“Does George know the McIntyres?”

“Nope, but I have a feelin’ the McIntyres, Bart, and the $1,000 involves George.”

“Guess the three of us will take a ride to this ranch tomorrow.”

“That’s what I told George.”

“Is she okay this evening?”

“Yeah, but she’s still nervous and wants to leave without Sam Bacon.”  Kid Curry looked around the room.  “Friendly crowd?”

“Yeah, well, to be honest, I really wasn’t paying much attention to the crowd.  I was too busy winning.”  Heyes grinned.  “Why?”

“Well, I was just thinkin’ about headin’ to the Crystal Palace.”

Heyes peeled a few bills from his thick pile of winnings.  “Sounds like a fun time.  You go ahead.  I’ll be fine here.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Yep, don’t keep the lovely ladies waiting.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Kid Curry sauntered up to the bar and laid some money on the counter.  “I’ll have a whiskey.”

“Sure thing!”  The bartender grabbed a glass, wiped it clean, and poured some whiskey into it.

Curry downed it.  “Another.”

More liquor was poured into the glass.  A man played the piano and several women were doing high kicks on a stage.

A buxom woman with a feather in her brunette hair sidled up to the Kid.  “Buy a lady a drink?”

Curry glanced over to the gal wearing black sequined dress leaving little to his imagination.  “Pour the lady a drink.”

The bartender nodded and reached under the counter for another glass.  “Here you go, Kate.”

“Thanks, Sam.”  She downed her drink and turned her attention to the man next to her.  “Did you come in to listen to the music and watch the stage show or…”  She nodded her head towards the stairs as she ran her fingers up his arm, down his chest, and lingered near his belt buckle.

“Definitely the other.”  Kid grinned.

“I was hoping so.”  Kate licked her lips and took his hand.  “Follow me.”

Curry gave a million-dollar smile.  “Lead the way, ma’am.”  

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Kid Curry put his boots on and took his gun belt from the bed post, buckling it on and tying the string around his thigh.

Kate lay in bed watching him dress.  “That was fun.”

“It sure was,” the Kid agreed as he put on his vest.

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll show you a few more things I learned from that Kama Sutra book.”

“Well, as invitin’ as that sounds, me and my partner have somewhere to go tomorrow.”

“Your partner?  Invite him, too.  There’s a chapter in the book…”

Kid Curry shook his head and left some money on the dresser.  “I don’t think so, ma’am.  Besides, he’s been busy playin’ cards.”

“I heard there’s a big game going on at The Birdcage with Doc Holliday.”

“That’d be him.”

“Oh, it would, huh?”  Kate’s eyes twinkled.

“Thanks, again, for the… interestin’ time.”

Kate winked.  “Any time. My pleasure.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next evening, when George is telling the boys about Sam agreeing to leave with her, a knock on the door surprised them.

Cautiously Heyes opened the door while Kid Curry, gun cocked, stood behind it.

“Come in, deputies.”  Heyes gestured and Curry quickly holstered his gun.  “

“Smith, Jones, Marshal Earp wants to see you in his office.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Marshal Earp poured coffee from a large granite coffee pot.  “Coffee?”

Heyes and Curry stood before him with the hats in their hands.  “No, no thanks.”

Earp walked to the wanted poster board as he sipped his coffee.  “Well, I’m feeling kindly disposed of you fellas.  If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t be three criminals in my jail here.”  He sipped more coffee.  “It ain’t no secret, Doc Holliday and I are friends.  I have a deep affection for ol’ Doc.  Some know, and some don’t, that Doc is dying.  Yep.  And when he goes, I’m going to feel a deep, deep loss.  But before he goes, I aim to see that he gets the most outta his days.”  

The marshal poured more coffee.  “Now, Mr. Smith, before you pulled into Tombstone, Doc Holliday was the best poker player in the territory.  But you got to him and everybody knows it.  Been in the morning paper, soon it’ll be all over the country.  Now I can’t and I won’t let that happen to the Doc.  Now it appears that I don’t do much but drink a lot of coffee, but I do watch who comes into Tombstone.”  

Earp stands by and stares at the wanted posters.  “Now it’s come to my attention that there’s a couple of interesting strangers here – one of them outdrew a deputy of mine and the other is so good at poker that he makes ol’ Doc Holliday look like an amateur.  So that got me to thinking, it seems to me that this combination is some special meaning.”  Earp walked toward Heyes and Curry.  “Now if I was right, them two fellas could be worth, oh, $10,000 a piece to a lawman.  But on the other hand, it would leave much room for a good man to save face in front of all of his friends.”

“Now what are you getting at,” asked Heyes.

“What I’m getting at, Mr. Smith, is that tonight you are going to play one more game of poker with my friend Doc Holliday and you’re to lose.  You’re going to drop the whole $20,000 that you won out there in front where everyone is going to see you do it.  And then, well, you’re going to leave Tombstone, both of you.  And you’ll still be able to say, with some satisfaction, that Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry came up against Marshal Earp and somehow managed to come out ahead.”

“And you,” Earp pointed to the Kid. “You are going to not go to the Crystal Palace and see Kate.  Do you understand?”

Kid Curry cleared his throat.  “Kate?”

“Big Nose Kate is Doc Holliday’s gal.  I don’t want you seeing her again and causing problems between Kate and Doc.  Lord knows they have enough problems without her making Doc jealous because of you.”

“Now that’s all.  Adios!” Marshal Earp dismissed the boys.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes and Kid Curry joined Georgette in the stage heading to Denver.

“Heyes, I can’t believe you beat Doc Holliday at poker and took him for $20,000!” exclaimed George.

“Yeah, and I lost it all to him, too,” grumbled Heyes.

“Well, poker isn’t even the Doc’s game.  I heard he’s much better at Faro.”  George fanned her face.

“I’m just glad we got outta Tombstone and got Sam Bacon to Texas.”  Kid Curry put his feet up on the bench in front of him where George sat.

“And you messing around with Big Nose Kate, Doc Holliday’s gal!  George pushed his feet off the bench.  

“Hey, how was I to know that Doc’s gal was a soiled dove?  Why would she be workin’ in a saloon?” the Kid defended himself.

“Well, rumor has it, that they may or may not be married.  They settled down in Dodge City, but Kate couldn't stand the quiet and boredom of respectable living. She told Doc that she was going back to the bright lights and excitement of the dance halls and gambling dens,” Georgette gossiped.

“Does she really have a big nose, Kid?” Heyes asked.

“I wouldn’t say it was big, but it was prominent.”  Curry grinned.  “I wasn’t payin’ much attention to her face.”

"Is she the one with the different..."

Kid Curry nodded enthusiastically, "She sure is!"

Georgette leaned forward and hit the boys on their legs.  “Men!”

NOTE - Mary Katherine Horony-Cummings (born as Mária Katalin Horony, November 7, 1850 – November 2, 1940), also known as Big Nose Kate, was a Hungarian-born prostitute and longtime companion and common-law wife of Old West gunfighter Doc Holliday.

"Do you ever get the feeling that nothing right is ever going to happen to us again?" - Kid Curry
Back to top Go down


Posts : 636
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 54
Location : Birmingham

PostSubject: Re: July 18 - Doc Holliday   Sun Jul 29, 2018 4:25 am

Dear lovelies
I have posted a Doc Holliday story.
I wrote it years ago so it is in the overspill area..

But, polishes glasses sheepishly, some of you newer gals won't have read it. Purr
Back to top Go down


Posts : 844
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 63
Location : Colorado

PostSubject: Re: July 18 - Doc Holliday   Mon Jul 30, 2018 12:50 pm

Oops, I posted this before I saw Remuda's story. Sorry for the similarities but hopefully you'll enjoy them both.

“You sure this’ll work, Heyes?” asked Kid Curry, skeptically.  His blue eyes slid sideways towards his dark-haired partner as their horses ambled quietly along the overgrown trail.  Hannibal Heyes was astride a bay gelding and leading a sorrel pack mule laden with goods.  

“It’ll work,” was the emphatic answer.

“I don’t know…”  The Kid watched as the muscles in his cousin’s jaw tightened.  

“That’s right.  You don’t know.  I do.”

“Seems to me lots could go wrong.”   With pleasure, Curry saw Heyes’ brows knot together and lower alarmingly.    

“Quit your worrying.  Nothing’s going to go wrong.  The plan’s going to work.”

“Ain’t that what you said before the Hanford job?”  The Kid saw Heyes’ teeth actually clench and observed a lovely flush of color rising from his shirt collar.  Hanford always worked.

Heyes reined up and his stormy eyes drilled into his friend’s.  “What’s with you, Kid?  You turning yellow?”

“Nope. Just doin’ my job makin’ sure you’ve done yours,” said Curry, innocently.

“It’s done so you can shut your trap.  My plan’ll work.”

“If it don’t, we better have a plan B.”  

“We don’t need a damn Plan B, Plan A’s gonna work!” snapped Heyes as he spurred his horse into a jog leaving a delighted Curry behind.

The sun hadn’t been up long when the two men emerged from the forest and halted their horses atop a small ridgeline overlooking the town of Peaceful.  The town looked anything but.  Even from this distance, it was plain the burg was bustling with people.  Wagons and carriages were clogging the streets and people dashed crazily between the conveyances.  Everywhere there was movement.  Banners flapped across the main street and shopkeepers were polishing windows and sweeping the sidewalks. The sound of hammering drifted across the tops of the oats rippling in the fields.  A gentle breeze carried joyous laughter to the ears of the two horsemen.   It also carried the scent of freshly baked pies and cakes.

“Ahh,” sighed the Kid, happily.  “The fourth always brings out a crowd, don’t it?” He was watching a pretty girl gathering wildflowers from around a small pond on the edge of town.  A small boy wrestled with his dog nearby.  Several streets over, three boys ran down an alley.  One of them gripped an upside down, flapping, squawking hen by her feet.  “Remember that fourth you got caught stealing eggs from Mrs. Hogg’s henhouse?  Your Pa was so mad he made you work the kissin’ booth all day.  If he’d only known you’re were plannin’ to ambush Walter and his gang for beatin’ us up the week before maybe he would’ve gone a little easier on you, huh?”

“Hmpf,” responded Heyes.  He was holding the field glasses up to his eyes and focusing in on one structure in the center of town.  The one bearing a large sign stating, ‘Bank of Peaceful’.  

“Clay Barnett paid a dime and dared Jimmy Phipps to kiss you and he did.  The look on your face was a sight to behold.”  Curry laughed heartily until he reached up and wiped at the corner of his eye.

The dark man’s attention never wavered from the dusty brick building and the equally dusty, big man leaning against the front window.  “I don’t recall you being all that happy at the time.  Leastways, not after Mary Sue Wright paid a whole five dollars to have me all to herself the rest of the day.  Say, Kid, weren’t you sweet on her?”  

“I’d forgotten about that,” the smile slid from the Kid’s face and he frowned, turning to glare at his partner, who was tucking away the binoculars into his saddlebags.

“Time to go.  Wheat just gave me the signal.”  Heyes wheeled his glossy bay on his heels and tugged on the mule’s lead.  It and Curry grudgingly followed.


A tuba bleated off-tune notes as a small parade marched into town.  Civil war veterans held themselves in rigid formation, their chests puffed out proudly displaying their moth-eaten uniforms.  A group of farmers drove a small herd of dairy cows before them.  Two boys walked unsteadily on pairs of stilts, while three girls wrangled a recalcitrant billy goat festooned with a chain of daisies.  They were followed by a mounted troop of young cowboys waving their matching ten gallons.  The upper classes of the Peaceful school sang “My country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty,” until their voices turned raspy and finally gave out.  Then the speeches started.  The town square was filled to overflowing with citizens.


“Yeah, it’s done.  It’s all done, Heyes.  Ain’t no need to keep askin’,” grumbled Wheat Carlson.  He leaned back in his chair and glanced around the crowded saloon.  The place was filling up early as the temperature rose outside.  It was a scorcher.  He raised his meaty hand and signaled the bartender to bring another round.  “The boys know what needs doin’.  It’ll go slick as a whistle.”

“It’d better.”  The outlaw leader held up his empty mug as the bartender came by with a pitcher sloppily spilling beer into it and onto the floor.  Heyes gave him a curt nod and hand him two bits.

“Where’s your partner?” asked Wheat.  Heyes’ scowl deepened, but he said nothing.  “You on the outs again?  You two fight more’n tomcats in a sack.”  Chuckling, the big man drained his glass in one long draw and plunked it down on the table.

Heyes fixed a gimlet eye on his lieutenant.  “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Wheat?”


Throughout the day, the Devil’s Hole Gang enjoyed the festivities with some of them entering the shooting contest (but not Kid Curry) others opting for the pie-eating contest (definitely Kid Curry).  Kyle even entered the horse race but fell off around the first turn when his mare went wide and was savaged by the horse she veered into before she threw a bucking fit.  At dusk, sated outlaws gathered in a darkening alley.

“All right, listen up!” hissed the Kid.  Once he had everyone’s attention, he nodded to Heyes.

“It’s 8: 42.  I want you all in place no later than 9.  Are you all clear on where you’re supposed to be and what you’re gonna do?”  The leader of the gang had begun pacing back and forth in front of his men.

“Yessir, we know,” piped up Kyle.  “I can’t hardly wait!”  

“Good.  Get going then and don’t screw it up,” growled Heyes, coming to a stop.  He and the Kid watched their men disappear into the crowds.

“Way to talk ‘em up, Heyes.”

Dark, frosty eyes stared into calm, amused blue ones.  “Can you please knock it off?”

“Knock what off?”

“Knock off needling me!  I have enough to think about without your yapping.”

“I thought the thinkin’ was all done.  Didn’t you say you’d worked it all out?”



“Time to wrap it up, partner,” said Curry, peering out the window through tightly drawn curtains.  

“Done.”  Heyes straightened up from a crouch and stretched his back.  Reaching into the chest pocket of his blue shirt, he retrieved a small box of matches and withdrew one, but didn’t light it.  Instead, he waited.  

A moment later a loud explosion rattled the windows.  It was closely followed by another and then another.  Soon the eruptions increased until there was little time between each detonation.  Cheering could be faintly heard.  The Kid watched as people on the street were drawn to the empty lot on the edge of town where Kyle would be lighting the Chinese fireworks Heyes had ordered special for this job.  He watched for a while, enjoying the show, until a large missile ascended into the air and exploded into a cascade of red, white, and blue twinkling starbursts.  “NOW!” he loudly hissed.

Heyes stooped and lit the short fuse to the bundle of dynamite he'd placed under the safe earlier.  Both outlaws hurried to the next room to seek shelter behind an overturned desk and stuck their fingers in their ears.  The cacophony outside rose to a fever pitch as the fuse burned down.  The dynamite exploded at the same time a multitude of rockets detonated outside.

Kid popped up and hurried through the doorway.  Heyes was right behind him when he heard his partner yelp.  “What’s wrong?!”  The Kid fell back against him, his hand to his ear.  A rocket had shot past him and exploded against a teller’s cage.

“Are you all right?  Kid, are you hurt?!”  Heyes tried to pull the Kid’s hand down, but he shook him off.

“$%&*!  Get the money—get the dang money.”

Heyes hurried to the safe.  He pulled a canvas bag from his back pocket and quickly stuffed the cash into it.  Drawing it closed, he rushed back to Curry.  Blood was dripping down his partner’s neck, but the blond man waved him towards the back door of the building.  “Let’s go!”

Lobo and Hank were waiting with the horses outside.  Quickly mounting, the four men rode quietly out of the alley and walked their mounts up the street.  Two blocks away, they were joined by Wheat and Preacher.  There were very few people on the streets and the ones who were out were watching the night sky where a kaleidoscope of color lit the heavens and the thunder of fireworks deafened all ears.  When the last staccato outburst died away, Kyle appeared.  His face was blackened and he was bleeding in a few places, but the huge grin he wore belied any injuries.  

“What happened to you?” asked Preacher.

“Dang but I must’ve mixed up a stick o’dynamite with the fireworks,” said the smallish outlaw.  “Hoo Wee, did ya see that show?  Heyes’ this was your best plan yet!”

Noticing the Kid’s injury for the first time, Kyle couldn’t hide his concern.  “You all right, Kid?”

The Kid just stared at him unable to trust his mouth to answer civilly.

Heyes smiled.  “He’ll be fine, Kyle, once I clean him up.”

“Good, ‘cause it’d be hell tryin’ to find a doc on a holiday.”


"You can only be young once. But you can always be immature." —Dave Barry
Back to top Go down
Sponsored content

PostSubject: Re: July 18 - Doc Holliday   

Back to top Go down
July 18 - Doc Holliday
Back to top 
Page 1 of 1
 Similar topics
» Welland Steam Rally 24th, 25th & 26th July 2009
» ALW on Piers Morgan's CNN Show July 1, 2011
» July 28/29th Gartell Light Railway Steam & Vintage Show
» Hinoki air layering in July?
» Rutland Water 27/28th July

Permissions in this forum:You cannot reply to topics in this forum
Alias Smith and Jones Writers  :: The Writing Spot :: The Story Challenge-
Jump to: