Free Epitaph by Mary Doria Russell

about!”
    â€œYou didn’t even ask me, Johnny! You just show up with this boy and—”
    â€œJosie, so help me, you say another goddam word—”
    But Josie would never concede. She never quit arguing. Suddenly the manifold pressures of John Harris Behan’s life seemed to concentrate in his fist and . . . Yes, he let her have it. No, he wasn’t proud of that but he gave himself credit for this much, at least: He left the house before he did worse.
    Sprinting down the street, hoping to make things right, he caught up with Wyatt, but before he could say anything, Virgil Earp had come around the corner and told his brother, “We’ve got some stolen army livestock to deal with, Wyatt. There’s a lieutenant in town—”
    â€œThe army can’t be involved with any criminal arrest,” Johnny warned.
    Virgil turned to look down at him. All the Earps were big, but Virgil had a couple of inches and probably forty pounds on his brothers. Which gave him eight inches and seventy pounds on Johnny Behan.
    â€œYeah. We know, Johnny,” Virg said in that rumbling voice of his. “That’s why Lieutenant Hurst is in Tombstone. He needs a civilian posse.” Virgil turned back to Wyatt. “Hurst’s getting his men something to eat, but figure three o’clock, at Fred White’s office.”
    â€œYou seen Doc?” Wyatt asked.
    â€œYou still ain’t found him?”
    Wyatt shook his head.
    â€œWell, I’ll keep an eye out,” Virg said. “See you at Fred’s.”
    â€œWyatt, please! A word with you?” Johnny asked as Virgil set off. “Look, I’m sorry about what just happened back there. I swear, Josie’s not usually like that. She must be on the rag.”
    Wyatt colored up, mumbled something about his tooth, and walked away.
    â€œAll right then, I’ll let you go,” Johnny called. “See you at three!”
    JACKRABBIT JOHN, THE HOOKERS CALLED HIM. Johnny Behan dropped by for a quick one the way other men might slug back a drink, or smoke a cigarette, or take a deep breath: to get his temper under control. He’d only been gone from home about twenty minutes, but when he walked in the door, Al was alone in the house and told him that Josie was real mad and said she was never coming back, and then Al started to cry because he was sure it was his fault.
    Sighing, Johnny told the boy that wasn’t so, but he left again, hoping to find Josie before she got into trouble downtown. When he finally found her crying in the piano room at the Cosmopolitan, he was more than ready to make peace and walked her home, explaining about how Albert was a little deaf and needed some tenderness. She pouted when he said he was needed at the marshal’s office but brightened up when he promised they’d go out someplace special that night. All that took time, so it was half past three when he got to Marshal White’s office. By then he’d regained some of his morning optimism.
    I can still pull this off, he told himself, certain that he could salvage the deal with Wyatt. This is all going to turn out fine.
    â€œAFTERNOON, JOHNNY,” Fred White said. “What’s the problem?”
    â€œJust here to help out, Fred. You must be Lieutenant Hurst.” Johnny offered the trooper his hand. “John Behan. Used to be sheriff up in Yavapai County. Virg, I hope you didn’t wait for me.”
    â€œNo, Johnny,” Virgil Earp rumbled with good-natured sarcasm. “We felt capable of beginning the deliberations without you. Everything all right at home?”
    Behan flushed. “Yeah, well, you know what I’m up against, Virg.”
    Bluff, good-humored, comfortably heavy at thirty-seven, Virgil Earp nodded and shrugged. Virg was a dozen years older than Alvira Sullivan, but he loved that little girl like a bear loves honey, and getting stung was part of the package. Behan’s