Tombstone

and with many friends. Though apparently retiring and rather silent, he was given to gay amusements. He drank moderately, played a dashing game of faro, and cut a swath in Tombstone dance halls, where he achieved distinction as a squire of dames, spending his money recklessly, keeping champagne corks popping, and bestowing upon his favourites among red-light beauties the diamonds, rings, necklaces, and watches he obtained in his secret adventures on the highways. He was an expert with a six-shooter and was regarded as a killer among the desperadoes and outlaws who preferred his friendship to his enmity. It was not definitely known, however, that he had killed anyone, though he was suspected on logical grounds of having murdered one of the many successive owners of the Brunckow mine, he himself having been one of the numerous men who had jumped that worthless old hole in the ground. He was a native of Texas and had been in Arizona four years. After working in the mines at Signal, he had lived for a time in Tombstone and then moved to Charleston to become a liveryman. He had been appointed a deputy sheriff, and recently had been stationed in this official capacity in Bisbee. His brother, Jack Stilwell, was a famous army scout.

Pete Spence was a different type. He was about forty years old, tall, gaunt, and taciturn. His real name was said to be Lark Ferguson and he was a native of the Big Bend country of Texas, on the Rio Grande, where he was reputed to have killed in many robber adventures fifteen or twenty Mexicans. He was, it was said, a peripatetic lead mine, carrying in his body many bullets which he had acquired during his outlaw career. Spence was nearly killed with a load of buckshot while robbing a store in Corpus Christi, and was shot in the head in another bandit exploit in New Mexico. After robbing a bank at Goliad, he joined the Sixth Cavalry under the name of Spence and took part in several Apache campaigns in Arizona, being finally discharged at Fort Grant. He had dealt monte and faro in many tough towns in Arizona and New Mexico, including Lordsburg, Silver City, Shakespeare, Galeyville, and Charleston, and at the time of the Bisbee stage robbery was married to a Mexican woman and living in Tombstone.

The arrest of Spence and Stilwell arrayed them with the Clantons and McLowerys against the Earps, and the vengeance of these two outlaws became a part of the romance of feud that stained Tombstone with blood.

“After we had arrested Stilwell and Spence,” said Wyatt Earp, “Ike Clanton and Frank McLowery came to Tombstone evidently looking for trouble. With John Ringo, Joe Hill, and Milt Hicks, they met Morgan Earp on Allen Street in front of the Alhambra.

“ ‘I’ll never speak to Pete Spence or Frank Stilwell again,’ Frank McLowery said, ‘for allowing themselves to be arrested by the Earps. If ever you come after me, I’ll promise you’ll never take me.’

“Ike Clanton, Ringo, Hill, and Hicks stood by threateningly with their hands on their six-shooters. Morgan was alone.

“ ‘If I ever have any occasion to come after you,’ Morgan replied, ‘I’ll arrest you.’

“ ‘I once threatened to kill you and your brothers,’ said McLowery. ‘Then, when I saw you were letting us boys alone, I decided not to do it and took back my threat. But now, since you are getting so busy in this part of the country, my threat still goes. You Earps and Doc Holliday are not as big as you think you are. You’d better look out, or we’ll get you yet.’

“Morgan made no reply but walked away. During the next few days, Marshall Williams, Farmer Daly, Big Ed Byrnes, Old Man Winter, Charlie Smith, and three or four others came to me and told me to be on guard, as they had heard Ike Clanton, Frank and Tom McLowery, John Ringo, and Joe Hill all threaten to kill my brothers, myself, and Doc Holliday. I took their advice and kept my eyes open. I did not intend that any of these outlaws should get the drop on me if I could help it.”

The situation as far as the Earps and Doc Holliday were concerned had grown suddenly desperate. War to the death had been declared against them. They were four men standing alone, hemmed in by deadly foes. Weaker men would have fled from Tombstone and sought safety over the horizon. Only men of iron courage would have stayed to take a chance and fight it out. Ike Clanton and Frank McLowery were only mouthpieces of outlaw hatred. Back of them was a murderous criminal organization, the boldest and most powerful in the history of the Southwest.

XIII

The Showdown

Dark and high the war clouds were piling. Forked hatreds snaked flamingly across the blind gloom, and vengeance threatened in rumbling thunder growls. The red deluge was about to burst. Nothing now could hold back the storm.

Swashbuckling Ike Clanton, unable to read the signs and portents of impending tragedy, drove alone into Tombstone on the afternoon of October 25th. Rash, blundering fellow, thus to venture single-handed into the stronghold of his enemies. But he believed in his soul the Earps were secretly afraid of him, would not dare to molest him, stood in awe of the banded outlaw strength that for years had been at his back. How quickly and cruelly was this proud freebooter to be stripped of his foolish illusions. So confident of his own safety was he that, as a law-abiding gesture, he left his Winchester rifle and six-shooter behind the bar at the Grand Hotel and sallied forth to tipple and take his pleasure in the saloons and gambling halls.

An hour past midnight, Ike Clanton was eating a light repast in the lunch room in the rear of the Alhambra saloon when Doc Holliday strolled in. Holliday’s face went dark.

“You’ve been lying about me to Wyatt Earp,” he