Foolish Games | Tombstone

Chapter Three

Wyatt raised a hand to pause his host, tapping at his vest and pulling from within it a letter. He held it up, shaking his head. "I told Clara, Ma'am, I'm not here to speak to your husband. The truth is, I got a letter here for your daughter. Was asked to deliver it as a... a—mediator—go between of sorts."

"Who is writing my daughter?" Katrina asked flabbergasted.

"Well, ma'am, Doc asked me to deliver the letter."

Mama's features were stoic and unreadable, whereas Clara's face was green with anxiousness. Her fears were bubbling to the surface. If John Henry had found out about Thomas, the Cowboys, and the day before at the saloon... Well... who knew what would ensue. She reached out from across the table and took the parcel from Wyatt.

Clara swallowed hard. She felt Mama's eyes on her like a hawk on a rabbit. Suddenly the summer heat hit Clara in a wave; a trickle of sweat pooled at the base of her neck before dripping down her spine, saturating her corset.

"Well, go on then, child. Open the address."

She felt faint. "Yes, ma'am."

Trying to steady her hands, Clara lifted the tab on the envelope. Taking the piece of paper, she unfolded it. Her eyes scanned the contents of the letter guardedly. Mama and Wyatt looked on, one still curious, while the other knew more than he let on. An expression of pure horror washed over Clara's face as she read it.

Mama became concerned. "You look as though you've seen a ghost, Clara. What does it say?"

Without looking at her mother, she handed the letter over. Katrina eagerly took it, her brown eyes eating every word on the page.

Dear Miss Clara Grady,

Will you favor us with your company this Saturday, Jul 4th, for the quiet festivities within the town? Mr. Earp and I should not consider it complete without your presence—given express permission from your honorable mother and father. In this case, I will take no denial.

Yours sincerely,

J.H. Holliday

Katrina took a deep breath, staring disapprovingly at her daughter for her ghastly display. She squared her shoulders and turned to Wyatt. "Will Mrs. Earp be in attendance?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I see no reason why Clara shouldn't join you."

"Mama!" Her daughter objected. "You cannot be serious!"

Mother shot a stone-cold glare in her daughter's direction. "That's enough, Clara. It will be good for you to see the townsfolk. After all, your father is the Sheriff. The entirety of the family should be more active in our public roles. I think it is a very kind gesture on Mr. Holliday's part. Given how rudely you insulted him upon our first meeting."

Gawking with an open mouth, Clara began to heat up with tenacious anger. This couldn't be happening to her! "With all due respect, ma'am, you would have my first public appearance be on the arm of a walking corpse."

"Clara Delphine Grady, that is quite enough! You will accept Mr. Holliday's invitation. This afternoon. Go and write your response presently. With a good paper, mind you. We will send it back with Mr. Earp to return."

When Clara had risen from her chair and left the room to pen a reply, she did so noisily. Mrs. Grady exhaled through a clenched jaw, completely and utterly embarrassed by her daughter. It crossed the aging woman's mind that perhaps she hadn't given Clara the switch enough as a child. Perhaps, that was why Clara was so bold in her tantrums. She was a grown woman, for heaven's sake! A grown woman with little means to marry and a bitter attitude. Errant girl.