Doc - Mary Doria Russell [110]
“Wanna go get your sister?” Morg laughed as he took his place next to his brother. “Jesus, Wyatt, you sounded just like Pa—”
“Shut up,” Wyatt snapped.
Morgan’s face went slack, and he looked like he’d been backhanded.
What was that about? Doc wondered.
“Sorry,” Wyatt said briefly. “See to the fiddler.”
Morgan knelt at the German’s side. “Still breathing,” he reported. “Stauber, fetch Doc McCarty!”
Drawn by the noise and the excitement, the crowd was getting bigger by the moment, and the buzz of comment became louder when people noticed which Texan Wyatt Earp had just arrested. The kid was sitting on the ground, one leg out straight in front of him, the other crumpled beneath him, a circumstance he’d lament when he sobered up. He looked like any of a thousand beardless boys in town that day, but the spur he’d landed on when Wyatt dumped him was heavy silver. His boots were custom-made, and the hat lying in the dirt nearby was an expensive Stetson.
Word got around fast. Dog Kelley and Bob Wright showed up on Doc McCarty’s heels.
“That’s Billy Driskill,” Bob said. “Wyatt, wait! You can’t—”
Wyatt had the kid by the ear, but he was looking at Dog Kelley. “I told you when I started: I don’t care who it is. He breaks the law, I’m taking him in.”
“Dog,” Bob Wright said, his voice low and urgent, “that’s Jesse Driskill’s nephew. His uncle’s worth millions to the city! You’re the mayor—do something!”
“C’mon, Wyatt,” Dog pleaded. “Be reasonable!”
“You want my badge back?” Wyatt asked.
“You’ll get mine, too,” Morg said over his shoulder.
Stauber and Charlie and all the others looked to Morg, and nodded. One by one, every man on the Dodge City police force told Dog, “Mine, too,” ready to back Wyatt’s play, even though none of them was sure yet what in hell was going on.
Doc McCarty was kneeling on the dirt by then, examining the bleeding fiddler. Dog came closer and asked, “How bad is he?”
“He’s young,” the doctor said. “He’ll live.”
“Well, then,” Dog said, clapping his hands once. “No harm done!”
Wyatt shook his head mulishly. “There’s got to be one law for everybody, Dog.”
“Yeah, but—Wyatt, he’s—”
“No, sir,” Wyatt insisted. “There can’t be one law for rich Texans and another law for broke Texans, and another law for Negroes, and another one for Chinamen, and squaws, and Irishmen, and whores, and another one for everybody else. I can’t parse it that way, Dog! I am not that smart! There’s got to be one law for everybody, or I can’t do this job. You want my badge or not?”
Dog glanced at Morgan, who acknowledged the look with a shrug and a nod and a sigh: Yeah, I know what you’re thinking …
It was boneheaded and contrary, and maybe someday Wyatt would learn the ways of the world and how to go along with things he couldn’t change, but not today. Today he was going to take that rich kid in or get fired for trying.
That was when Bob Wright—conciliatory and earnest—approached Wyatt to have a quiet word with him, except Dog Kelley stepped between them.
“Tell you what, Wyatt,” Dog said quickly. “We’ll take the kid straight to court and let him pay the fine. Everybody wins.”
“Wyatt, if it’s the arrest fee you’re thinking of,” Bob said, reaching into his own pocket, “let’s see if we can’t work something out—”
“Bad move,” Doc murmured to Eddie.
“Bob, no!” Mayor Kelley moaned. “He don’t mean it, Wyatt. Not like that—”
“Morg,” Wyatt called so everyone in the crowd could hear him. “Arrest this man. He is attempting to bribe an officer of the law.”
“Mr. Wright,” Morgan said, “I’m sorry, but I’m taking you in.”
“F’crissakes, Wyatt,” Dog cried. “Morgan, no!”
“You want my badge, Mayor?” Morg asked, fingers on his star.
Dog threw up his hands in defeat. “This will not end well,” he warned the Earps, but there was nothing more he could say. Bob Wright was standing right there, his face as blank as an egg, malice rising off him like a stink.
The boy on the ground was