“In a card game with the Doc. That’s somethin’.” Cliff shook his head. “Could he play?”
“Yeah, he knew his cards all right, but he acted different than he did in his office. He seemed nervous and kinda edgy, and his eyes had a dark look to ’em. He was drinking quite a bit and not near as friendly. I guess a skinny rich kid from Valdosta, Georgia, had to be on his guard all the time.
“I played for a few hours, lost a little and called it a day. Doc stood up to say goodbye to me. I told him I was leavin’ for California in the morning, and he wished me safe passage. He put his poker face back on and rejoined the game.
“The next morning, I got up early and headed down to the livery stable to pick up Babe. I stopped by the hardware store and picked up some supplies and then started to ride out. As I rode down Center Street, gunfire and screaming erupted inside Doc’s saloon. As I got closer, I saw Doc come staggering out of the swinging doors with his six guns a smokin’. He stumbled off the boardwalk and almost ran into me. Surprised, he looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. He smiled a little when he saw it was me and lowered the gun. I’ll tell ya, Cliff, I’ll never forget the look on his face that morning for as long as I live. It wasn’t anger or hatred—it was remorse and sadness on his face.”
“Ya think he felt bad about shooting that hombre?”
“Sure seemed like it,” Jon replied. “I asked how it happened, and he told me Gordon had accused him of cheating and went for his gun. Doc beat him to the punch and blasted him three times at close range. He said it was an awful sight. He literally blew his guts out. He knew the town would be after him, so he ran out of the saloon. Haggard and tired, Doc smelled of whiskey, stale cigars, and cologne.e
“Then he turned and started walking real fast toward his horse. I reined around and rode next to him.
I leaned down and asked him where he was headin’.
“He said the word ‘Dodge’ quietly so nobody would hear. I nodded as he dropped his guns in their holsters and quickly mounted up. I felt honored that he trusted me enough to tell me where he was goin’.
“As he mounted up, I jumped down and grabbed a pouch of water off Babe and tossed it over his horse’s hindquarters. Then I quickly stuffed some flour and bacon into his saddlebags.
“He said ‘Bless you, my friend,’ as he spun around and rode off toward Dodge.
“Several people came running out of the saloon waving their six guns. Like I said, Gordon was a popular guy. The local folks were more than a little bit upset by his killing.”
“Why’d they wait so long to come after him?” Cliff queried.
“Gordon was more than likely the only gunman in there. The rest of them were probably just normal folks. They really didn’t want any part of Doc Holliday.
“One of the men asked me if I knew where Doc went, and I didn’t say anything. The man just stared at me for a minute and then looked up and down the street. Doc had left town on one of the finest quarter horses I’ve ever seen. Even in his drunken state, he was a fine horseman. There’s no way they would ever catch him. Several others rushed out to the street, waving their guns and shouting, but none gave chase. It was all for show. Disheartened by the loss of their friend, they dropped their guns in their holsters and walked back in the saloon. One of the men shouted ‘Good riddance’ over his shoulder.
“I quickly rode back to the general store, picked up another bag of water and other supplies and headed out for California again.”
“That’s one whale of a story, Jon.”
Jon sat back in his chair. “Yeah, he’s quite a guy. After only a short time with him, I can see why Wyatt liked him so much. There was somethin’ about him, an honesty or somethin’ most people never see.”
“I bet Gordon didn’t see it,” Cliff quipped.
“Guess not,” Jon replied.
“I hear Doc had a big shootout down Tombstone way not too long ago.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Jon replied. “I guess some cowboys got shot up pretty bad.”
Jon has really changed, Cliff thought. Since he last saw him, Jon had become a hardened gunman. Just the kind of man that he and the others miners needed to take on George Stanton and his gang of hired guns. Cliff had a hunch.
“If you don’t mind, Jon, I would like to take a couple a minutes and tell you a little bit about what’s going on around here.”
Jon smiled. “You were patient enough during my story, cus. Go ahead.”
“Well, as you may know, this town is pretty well dependent on the nearby gold mines for its survival.”
Jon nodded.
“The original vein on the side of a nearby mountain was discovered and mined by a man named George Stanton. Everything was going just great for Mr. Stanton in the beginning. In fact, it went so well that he was thinking of expanding and looking for gold in some nearby areas. Only problem was, he was a little short of capital to fund these new ventures. To improve his cash flow, he came up with a scheme to advertise out East. He offered the folks out East a chance to come here to California and buy into one of the small veins that splintered off his main vein with the chance of striking it rich. Each person or family would acquire a stake in a smaller vein near the main load and whatever gold was found would belong to them. Meanwhile, Stanton could take their cash and use it for further expansion and development in some of the promising areas just south of here. It would also expand his power and influence locally.
“Sounded good enough. The only problem was that it wasn’t long before the large vein started to burn out. At the same time, several of the new prospectors were making lots of money on their stakes, and George didn’t like it. He had spent most of his money exploring for new veins in nearby foothills. These efforts had gone bust, and his cash reserves were beginning to dwindle. He was becoming desperate for cash. So he came up with a plan to buy the miners out at double what they had paid for their claims, but nobody was biting. Many of them were in the process of getting rich, and naturally, they weren’t about to sell. Their reluctance made George furious, and it wasn’t long before some hired guns were beginning to show up in town. If someone refused to sell, he would soon get a visit from one of Stanton’s new guns. It was getting ugly, and people were beginning to get frightened. And now he was offering them just fifty cents on the dollar.”
Big Jon fell back in his chair and looked over at Cliff. “Are they threatening you?”
“Well, I had a visit the other evening from a gentleman named Dave Barton. Know the name?”
“Sure do. He’s about the meanest snake this side of the Pecos River, and he won’t hesitate a minute to gun you down if the money’s right.”
“Sounds like a great fellow.” Cliff had a worrisome look on his face.
“One of the worst, and I have to say this, that George Stanton of yours didn’t go halfway when he brought in Barton. He’s one of the nastiest sons-a-guns I’ve ever known. He was the enforcer for a local cattle baron in Ellsworth, Kansas, back when I was ridin’ shotgun on a local stagecoach line. A lot of small ranchers and squatters were starting to move into the area, and Barton’s boss didn’t like it. He turned Dave loose on the poor unsuspecting louts, and it got ugly. It wasn’t long before several ranchers and squatters turned up dead. Everyone in town knew who did it, but because Barton’s boss owned the local sheriff, nothin’ was ever done about it. It will take a strong man to deal with a man like Barton. Is there anybody like that around here in law enforcement?”
“We