Doc: A Novel by Mary Doria Russell Read Free Book Online

on each other in the road. He reached across and offered his hand. “Elijah Garrett Grier,” he said.
    “Wyatt Earp. She’s something, all right.”
    “Arabian, bred for sand,” Grier told him. “Tremendous endurance.”
    “What would you take for her?” Wyatt asked, thinking of the reward he stood to collect when he brought Dave Rudabaugh in. “I’d go two hundred.”
    The officer looked at Wyatt’s clothes, and his gear, and his horse, none of which was impressive. “You’d have to add a zero to that figure, I’m afraid,” the officer said, friendly but firm.
    They spoke for a time about the mare’s exotic bloodlines and her temperament. Wyatt wondered if Grier had raced her. The officer admitted that her performance was uneven. “She’s a three-miler by nature,” he said. “Shorter contests don’t do her justice.”
    She was restive, standing there when she’d expected to run.
    “Best we move on,” Grier said.
    Raising his hand in a half salute, the officer leaned forward slightly. The mare took off, and she was a sight: her body perfectly balanced, her timing beautiful. She had a lovely floating stride that made you forget she had muscles at all. Fast, but you almost didn’t notice it, dazzled by how effortless the movement appeared.
    Roxana, Wyatt thought. Pretty name.
    He wheeled Dick southward, and kicked him into a lope.
    For the rest of the day and most of that night, Wyatt fought the thoughts, but he had a tendency to ruminate on the trail, and there was no quieting an idea once it took hold. At dawn, he doubled back toward town and rode all day, arriving in Dodge by late afternoon. When the mule was unpacked and Dick was settled into his usual stall at the Elephant Barn, Wyatt went looking for Johnnie Sanders.
    The boy was a newcomer in Dodge, but he already had half a dozen small jobs around town. Johnnie was responsible and pleasant, so people mostly overlooked that he was colored. Bob Wright had hired him to restock shelves at the store, but then Bob found out that Johnnie was real good with numbers; now the boy was helping with the account books, which were always a mess because Bob did a lot of bartering and carried debtors for a year at a time. Johnnie got another job sweeping up at the barbershop, which led to cleaning the floors at a couple of saloons. Then he showed how he could cover at the faro tables when regular dealers needed to take a piss or something. So now he did that pretty regular, too.
    Wyatt found him at the barbershop and motioned him outside.
    “Mr. Earp,” the boy said, leaning his broom against the wall. “I thought you was goin’ to Texas.”
    Almost ashamed, Wyatt explained what he had in mind. Listening carefully, the boy started to smile, and the smile turned into a wide gap-toothed grin.
    “You can count on me,” Johnnie told him. “We’ll get that mare for you, Mr. Earp. And I’ll be careful, I promise.” For the first time, the boy offered his hand, man to man. “Thank you for lettin’ me do this, sir. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to pay you back for your kindness.”
    He was so pleased to be trusted. So eager and grateful. It would haunt Wyatt later on, that gratitude.
    Wyatt walked across the tracks to the bordello and went inside. Bessie started to welcome him. Then she realized who he was.
    “You’ll be wantin’ James,” she said.
    Wyatt nodded, not meeting her eyes.
    “Have a seat,” she suggested, and left him alone in the vestibule.
    Perched on a horsehair sofa, Wyatt waited for his brother. He was doing the sums in his head again and gave a little jump when James said, “I thought you was going to Texas.”
    “Loan me three hundred—Hell. Make it three-fifty, to be safe.”
    “It’s yours if you need it,” said James, but he didn’t hide his surprise.
    Wyatt took a dim view of his older brother’s business and an even dimmer view of his older brother’s wife. “Wyatt, what have you got against Bessie?” James had