Foolish Games | Tombstone

Chapter Five

Only moments after Clara left, Mattie began complaining about one of her notorious headaches. Wyatt knew what the problem was. His wife had run out of her liquid crutch that evening. He chose not to bring up her habitual dependence on Laudanum, opting instead to allow her to leave. Mattie had been miserable about that night's ordeal, anyway. It was ironic, Wyatt thought to himself. Both he and Doc sat at a table, consequently losing the attention of their companions for the evening. It wasn't that surprising, not really. That is, Wyatt's and Mattie's marriage had been going through difficulties lately. So her up and walking out on him to find her next bottle wasn't anything new. Her addiction became her first love, and Wyatt knew that. He knew it the second she refused his offer to call a doctor to get her some help. So he tried not to let it bother him. Doc, on the other hand, was a detriment to himself.

It was plain enough to see he butted heads with Clara due to their mirrored likeness. Yes, it was clear to Wyatt, especially concerning their forked tongues and undeniably quick witticism, which was as dry as the desert. One might ask: how were they different? Wyatt knew the answer to that one too. Unlike Clara, there were two sides to the man Doc Holliday: southern aristocratic gentleman and cantankerous, unlikable, shrewd, drunken gambler and gunslinger. The latter came out the moment drink hit his lips. Usually, Wyatt would let his friend's behavior slide. After all, Doc mostly talked a big game with little intention of backing up his calls. Tonight, however, had been Doc's idea, and as far as Wyatt could see, Clara hadn't bated him. Someone had to reel Holliday in before Miss Grady returned.

"You can't help yourself, can you?"

How many times had Wyatt started this conversation with Doc? A dozen, maybe twenty? His friend would cause all kinds of trouble, and Wyatt would turn around and have to sit Doc down, reprimanding his behavior. Sometimes people would tell Wyatt if he were an intelligent man, he'd see that his friendship with Doc was detrimental to his well-being. Not to mention, it also put a damper on his desire to run for county sheriff. Wyatt didn't much care, though. Life had thrown them together, and only death was going to pull them apart.

"Whatever do you mean?" Doc pursed his lips as he swallowed a shot of whisky. His eyes were glazed, heavy-lidded, and sorely red.

Wyatt sighed. Striking a match, he lit a cigar. "Doc, c'mon now. You hit that bottle and start itching for a fight. This whole night was your idea if you recall. Weren't any reason for you to treat Clara like that? I thought you were enjoying her company. You looked like you were enjoying it anyway."

The truth was, he had been enjoying Clara's company. There was a sense of home and belonging near her, a radiance. Her wit was sharp, being conversation-educated. Clara's intelligence did her nearly as much credit as her beauty, which was not of the model kind. John Henry had likened her not to Venus but to Minerva. His eyes couldn't pull away from the sight of her as Clara beamed at him when he caused her to laugh. Good God, her laugh. Such decadence! His wretched ears had the fortune of becoming acquainted with such an angelic melody that evening. His spirit lifted for the first time in ages to know he was the cause of her jovialness. Then, Clara smiled at him. She smiled ever so coyly, and Doc panicked. He panicked and snubbed her, instantly regretting it the moment the cruel words left his mouth. There was one thing Wyatt hit the head on: Doc couldn't help himself when he started drinking. He cursed God that the catalyst for his cruelty had to be Clara. Clara and that beautiful smile of hers. Now, she was out of the door, probably crying, and it was his fault.

"I retract my previous statement," Doc breathed heavily, staring across the table at his friend. "Perhaps you are right. I believe I owe Miss Grady redress for my rude behavior."

"Oh, well...That's good then." Wyatt, who had been ready to carry on convincing Doc he'd done Clara wrong, sat up, quite surprised by the change in Doc's demeanor. "While we are on the topic, she's been gone for a while now."