Thirty-nine

Just before noon Katie Elder was looking at some of Camillus Fly’s photographs in the gallery Fly kept next to his rooming house. Fly came in.

“Ike Clanton’s out there with a rifle and a side arm,” Fly said. “He is looking for Mr. Holliday.”

“Why?” Kate said.

“He says he is going to kill him,” Fly said.

“Doc’ll be interested to hear that,” Kate said.

She went next door into the boardinghouse and up to their room and woke Doc up.

“Ike Clanton’s looking to kill you,” Kate said. “He’s got a rifle.”

Doc rolled out of bed and began to put on his pants.

“ ’Less I die on the way,” Doc said, “he’ll get his chance.”

The air smelled of impending snow when Wyatt met Virgil and Morgan on Fremont Street. It was cold for October. All three men wore mackinaws; the hem of Wyatt’s was tucked up above the walnut handle of his gun.

“Harry Jones tells me Ike is after us with a Winchester and a six-shooter,” Wyatt said.

Virgil nodded.

“He was down at Hafford’s, too,” Morgan said, “with a rifle. Says he was insulted last night when he wasn’t fixed right. Says he’s heeled now and ready and wants to fight.”

“Lynch told me the same thing,” Virgil said. “Says Ike’s planning to kill us on sight.”

“And the sonova bitch been telling people we was supposed to meet him at noon and welshed out on it,” Morgan said. “It ain’t even noon yet.”

“Five of,” Wyatt said.

“Seems to me,” Virgil said, “we ought to find him and settle him down a bit.”

“Maybe we should settle him down for good,” Morgan said. “Ike’s starting to make me awful tired.”

“We’ll disarm him, arrest him if we can,” Virgil said.

“I’ll go up to Allen Street,” Wyatt said. “See if I can find him, see what he wants.”

Morgan and Virgil began to look for Ike along Fremont. Wyatt walked up Fourth Street toward Allen. He could smell snow in the air. He shrugged himself a little deeper inside the mackinaw and put his hands into his coat pockets. Wouldn’t want them stiff with cold if he was going to have to shoot Ike Clanton.

Behind him Ike came out of the Capitol Saloon. He looked toward Wyatt. Virgil, with Morgan beside him, came around the corner of Fremont and took hold of Ike’s rifle barrel with his left hand. Wyatt turned.

Virgil said, “Are you hunting for me?”

“I am, goddamn you, and if I seen you a second sooner you’d be dead.”

Wyatt began to walk back toward them. Ike went for the six-shooter he wore stuck into his waistband. Virgil hit Ike on the side of his head with the big Colt revolver he was carrying. Ike grunted and sank to his knees. He stayed down for a moment, shaking his head, and then looked up into the barrel of Morgan’s six-shooter. Ike could see that it was cocked.

“We’re arresting you, Ike, for carrying a concealed weapon,” Virgil said.

Wyatt was there now, standing beside Morgan. Virgil reached down and took Ike’s revolver and handed both guns to Morgan.

“You fucking Earps don’t give a man a chance,” Ike said.

“We didn’t shoot you,” Virgil said.

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