Free Doctor Who: The Gunfighters by Donald Cotton Page A

get it shot from his fool face by four of the toughest characters as ever put pincer to toe-nail.
    ‘Don’t mistake the Clantons none,’ warned Bat. ‘Just because, for some cock-a-mamie reason, you got away with it the once! O.K. – maybe they’re a mite sponge-witted an’
    slow-spoken to your way of thinkin’, but that don’t decelerate ’em none when it comes to backshootin’ an’
    side-swipin’ an’ such! An’ fer another thing, they got Seth with ’em – an’ he’s about the slimiest crittur ever got trod by human foot!’
    This was a long speech for Bat, and he appealed to Wyatt to continue the argument...
    ‘Main thing is though,’ said Jehovah’s sidekick, ‘that they got their Pa behind ’em – which is a situation that personally I would never seek. Because the said Pa Clanton is jest about the nastiest pater familias a growin’ boy could go in holy terror of! An’ he ain’t about to relish this laughable little set-back, but no-how. Now, his business with Doc Holliday is kind of a private matter concernin’
    the premature demise of his eldest. But his business with me is that I claim the God-given right to stop him takin’
    over the whole county for his personal purposes – which are downright unpleasant!’
    ‘Rustlin’,’ said Bat.
     
    The Doctor listened – but couldn’t hear anything himself, so relaxed again.
    ‘An’ horse thievin’, an’ stage hold-ups, an’ bullion robbery,’ continued Bat; ‘an’ they do say,’ he lowered his voice, ‘that he’s defrauded the tax-office a time or two...’
    ‘Too many slap-happy returns,’ confirmed Wyatt, ‘an’
    him standin’ for mayor, an’ all!’
    ‘As well as murder, an’ all,’ continued Bat.
    ‘And all? And all what?’ asked the Doctor.
    ‘The feller drinks!’ said Wyatt.
    ‘Well now, Wyatt, so does Holliday,’ objected Bat. ‘You got to admit that...’
    ‘That’s different,’ said Wyatt. ‘He’s my friend.’
    And he set to cleaning his revolver with a consecrated oil-rag...
    And simultaneously with this succinct exposition of the casus belli, the boys in the bar-room were busy scaring the hell out of that disenchanted dude, Jazz-fingers Steven Regret, late of the intergalactic force for good, and dedicated to fighting evil in all its forms.
    The trouble was, he hadn’t encountered it in this form before; not combined with what seemed to him to be boneheaded, crass stupidity!
    ‘For God’s sake!’ he exploded at length. ‘Why can’t you listen? For the last time, I tell you that man is not Doc Holliday! I don’t care what Earp said – he’s nothing like him! I don’t suppose,’ he added, not being entirely sure on that point.
    ‘He sure enough shoots like him,’ said Seth, ruefully.
    ‘Sure ‘nough does!’ agreed the others. ‘Fast? We ain’t never seen nothin’ like it! We said so at the time, if you remember?’
    ‘But he didn’t fire that shot! He probably wouldn’t know how.’
    ‘Haw! Haw!’ they went, with subtle sarcasm – rather like a rookery in the Springtime.
     
    ‘In any case, the bullet came from upstairs – I was watching!’
    ‘Well, Glory be!’ admired Phineas, ‘He got eyes like a bald eagle, this feller! He can watch bullets come an’ go like they was flappin’ their wings!’
    This was his best yet; and there was a short pause for refreshment, while they congratulated him.
    ‘Never mind all that,’ said Steven, irritably. ‘You’ll simply have to take my word for it.’
    They fell about some more.
    ‘Because what I’ve got to do now is get him out of gaol...’
    ‘Stop it!’ they begged. ‘Oh, please – no!’
    And they wiped their streaming noses on the table-cloth.
    ‘I don’t see what’s so funny – the Marshal had absolutely no right to arrest him!’
    ‘So what you’re goin’ fer to do, I take it,’ said Ike, when he felt better, ‘is you’re... oh, dear... you’re gonna walk right down into that there abode of the