Foolish Games | Tombstone

Chapter Nine *

***Read with caution. Graphic description of rape***

It was a state of being without dreaming. In half-consciousness, Clara clung only to the muffled noises of vaguely familiar voices reverberating against her pounding head. No feeling save numbness traveled through her body as she seemingly floated from the dirt ground into the arms of someone.

Wyatt plucked her from the Earth like a wounded creature, nestling her close to his chest. An echo of orders traveled through his chest and into Clara's. Every movement he made, every word he spoke, she could feel. Clara could feel it as a sense of erosion to her sanity, as opposed to the coherent comprehension of events adding to it. Like a stone, the ocean beats against her; with each passing minute, Clara begins to realize what she has done. As more of her is washed away–carried away—from the scene, Clara is aware that she has ended her brother's life. God forgive her. She then again lost all consciousness.

In the hours that followed the shootings, medical attention was sought for the young woman. Morgan had petitioned the good Barber, one Sean MacManus to see to Clara's ear and overall hysterical condition. The man refused outright; he was too deep with the Cowboys to go on aiding someone—even a woman, who had gunned one of them down. To make matters worse, hearing this news and in the aftermath of witnessing her husband and son killed, Mrs. Grady suffered a stroke. Being a woman of no ill repute, she was attended to by the Barber MacManus. Clara was still without help, however, and with no other option, John Henry stepped in.

For Holliday, it was an expulsion of fragility, for he had promised himself nearly a year ago he'd never treat another soul in dentistry or otherwise. It seemed a cruel and twisted jest. Only briefly he weighed the situation, diving headfirst into Clara's care. Doc lived up to his nickname that night, ordering Wyatt to take her back to the family home and lay her on the drawing room sofa. From there, he sutured her left ear with supplies from his dentistry bag, not yet disposed of for one reason or another, and followed up with the examination. The conclusion came in the form of an acute bout of dehydration, with no permanent damage done to her outside of losing a fair portion of her earlobe. Now, it was only the worst ahead of her.

Wyatt was the one who brought up the suspicion, then cleared it with Virgil. There was a delicate situation at hand. A delicate situation for Clara, anyway.

The conversation between the Earps and Doc occurred right outside the sitting room in the Grady's polished parlor.

Doc lit a cigarette, stealing a glance at his pocket watch.

As Virgil explained, there had been "no witness" to the gunning down of Sheriff Grady. No witnesses would testify against Thomas, anyway. The only other person present was Curly Bill, and he wasn't about to say a damn thing. Contrary, half a dozen Cowboys and townsfolk saw Clara blow the top off of her brother. It was a sticky business the young woman found herself in, and there was very little anyone could do about it—unless someone confessed to seeing Thomas do the deed and then fire at Clara first, making her actions justified under the law.

"Aw hell," Morgan shrugged with his hands on his hips. "Everyone saw Tommy fire first. I'll tell Judge Spicer I saw the whole thing."

"The hell you will." Wyatt retorted, shoving his finger into his little brother's chest. "You ain't getting involved. That would mark you a dead man when word got 'round."

Doc sighed, his release of breath turning sour. He grimaced with pain.

Virgil threw his hands in the air, then dusted his hat off on his britches. "Whole town is shitting scared of them Cowboys. Not one person would testify to seeing Thomas do any wrong. Doubt they'd open their mouth about Clara, either."