Wyatt Earp and the Medicine Man

An armadillo curls into a ball and rolls away. Tumbleweeds sweep across the landscape. The sun is burning, nestled above the western horizon. The plains are barren, more likely to be called a desert. Dust is swept up in the wind and brought over the terrain before settling a few miles away.

A Medicine Man makes his way through the unrelenting conditions. His skin ablaze after enduring the heat of the sun for many days, and sleeping on the sand for many nights. He is old, born with the earth, grown with the trees, and he will die with the universe. He keeps his spirits high by singing the songs of his people, words he would never forget. His voice carries across the land, like the banks of a river being drawn away with the water. It is smooth but slow. His skin is a dusty bronze, turned red with the sun. He bears many wrinkles as if they were cracks in the bark of an old tree trunk. He wears a headdress made of various feathers and other natural materials. His pants are made from the hides of animals, and his moccasins are well worn through the sole. Traveling with him is a horse pulling a small wagon. He walks alongside the horse, for in his eyes they are equals, having traveled the same journey. They both need rest.

Just as the sun reaches the horizon line, casting shadows on the ground that grow longer by the hour, a town is seen in the distance. The Medicine Man and the horse decide that it is time to rest and they will enter the town in the morning. 

The Medicine Man unties the cart, trusting that the horse will stay with him. Just as it had since they began their journey. From inside the cart, the Medicine Man retrieves a few sticks and a piece of animal hyde and fashions a shelter for the night. He starts a small fire and throws in some pine needles, old leaves. He grinds some herbs in a bowl, recites and ancient prayer, and adds them to the fire. Lastly, he takes a rib from the skeleton of a buffalo they had passed earlier in their travels and places it carefully into the base of the ashes. The fire sparks, tendrils of flame growing higher into the Arizona sky. The Medicine Man takes a deep breath, and from the blaze, a vision is given to him. He sees the town, and the people inside.

Wyatt Earp is a man of many jobs. He is a saloonkeeper, gunslinger, gambler, miner and frontier lawman. At the time, he and his older brother Virgil are town marshals for the city of Tombstone, Arizona. Their younger brother Morgan works alongside them as a special police officer. Warren, the youngest, was still in Dodge City with his lovely wife and child last they heard. 

If the Medicine Man had not known better, he would have felt as though he was called to Tombstone because of Wyatt’s friend, John “Doc” Holliday. He was suffering from a mighty fine case of tuberculosis, also called “consumption” at the time (though, some bitter fellows preferred to call him a “Lunger”). This sickness was what led Holliday to Tombstone in the first place. He thought the heat might dry it out of him. 

The Medicine Man then saw a duel, more of a shoot out, taking place six doors down from a little place called the O.K. Corral. The fight would last no more than a minute, 30 shots would be fired. All but one of the assemblage would leave injured. Three of them would leave dead. Except, he knew that this was not the end of their journey in the west. 

The Medicine Man grew tired of helping those who were wounded by guns, a bow and arrow would do just the same, and it was much easier to heal. But, mother nature had given him this power for a reason. If he chose not to use it on one soul or another, that would be a waste. 

He found himself unable to watch any more, he knew why he had been called to Tombstone. He would find out more when he arrived tomorrow. With this, he returned to his shelter. The horse was lying down opposite the fire. The Medicine Man knew that by the end of the night the horse would be right next to the shelter. As he slept, he dreamed of valiancy, of bloodshed, and of helping those who were wounded.

After months of quarreling with the Clanton-McLaury Gang, matters would finally come to a head at high noon today. The Clanton’s and the McLaury’s made up a smaller conglomerate of The Cowboys, a network of the most no good, thievin’, bottom-feeders in the west. This band of floor-flushers was made up of Ike and Billy Clanton, the three McLaury Brothers, and one Billy "The Kid" Claiborne. 

Wyatt woke with the sunrise, a feeling of dread deep in his stomach. He buried it with conviction, and confidence that he would win today. After all, he and Doc were the sharpest shooters on this side of the Mississippi River! They couldn't lose. 

So Doc was sick. He'd been through far worse things and still come out on top, guns blazing. Plenty of bar fights, poker scams gone haywire, and a generally flannel-mouthed personality was quite a testament to that. Now, give Doc a set of knives, and you would have yourself a show, but that was a side of Doc Holliday that Wyatt chose not to acknowledge. Holliday could be a twisted mudsill when he wanted to be, and as a lawman, Wyatt didn’t need to know.

As for Virgil and Morgan, they may not be the best gunman but they were damn good nonetheless. After all, it is hard to enforce the law without some basic shooting skills. But it was still rough on Wyatt to go into a fight with his brothers.

As the hours passed nearing the peak of the day, Earp and his company were only getting antsier. About an hour before the fight, Wyatt, Doc, Virgil, and Morgan were waiting in the O.K. Corral, sharing what might've been their last round of Texas Hold’em and whiskey by the tin tumbler. Earp had just got done kicking out some disagreeable fellows and found himself asking how the day could get any worse. Doc’s sickness hadn’t lessened, in fact, it had gotten so bad that the man could barely see straight. Though that didn’t matter much. Doc could shoot backward with his eyes closed and still hit two men with each gun. It was his brothers that worried him most. 

           The Clanton-McLaury Gang were a group of no good hustlers, they liked to play dirty and they would if given the chance. Ike, especially, he was packing salt rounds. He aimed to maim, not kill. He wanted to leave ‘em alive to suffer a little longer. Billy, on the other hand, was a wild card. He could follow the rules or he could forget them all.

So, as the story goes, all but one of the “Fighting Earps”, as folks had taken to calling them, sat in the O.K. Corral awaiting the inevitable when in walks an old Medicine Man. He takes a seat by the bar but doesn’t drink. He just waits. What he was waiting for exactly, well, Wyatt couldn’t tell you, but it is not every day that a Medicine Man made his way through Tombstone without reason. Wyatt had a bad feeling that he had something to do with that reason.

The second oldest Earp excused himself from the game, he wasn't going to win anyhow so he had figured it better to quit while he was ahead. He made his way to the Medicine Man, moving around chairs, tables, and other patrons like he had traveled this path his whole life. He took a seat on the stool to his right and stayed quiet. Wyatt was a man of many words, good ones too, but he also knew when to shut his trap, and now was one of those times. 

They sat like this for quite some time, both knowing why they were there, but not wanting to acknowledge the coming trouble. At some point between the poker table and the bar, Wyatt had acquired a cup of whiskey, though he didn't really feel like drinking it. Finally, he spoke up. 

“Why are you here Medicine Man, we ain’t got nothin’ to trade, nothin’ to give, and none of my folk are dyin’ on my watch,” Wyatt speaks over his shoulder for the next part, “‘side from Doc, the bastard has it comin’!”

A coughing chuckle, followed by a mirthful retort can be heard across the room, his western drawl made longer and lazier by the exhaustion, “Well Sir, If’n I’m to die today, you’re sure as shit dyin' with me!” Doc finishes his statement by downing the last of his whiskey and slamming his hand of cards down on the table, followed by the cup.

The Medicine Man smiles, it brings him peace of mind to see that the two can still laugh on such a sorrowful day. He glances around the saloon and his eyes settle on smiling faces and tired eyes. These boys, - no, these men- have fought far beyond their years, and that fight will not end today.

“I have out-walked many suns to wish you all good luck.” the Medicine Man says, his speech is slow, graveled as if talking like this isn’t something that comes naturally. Wyatt chuckles a bit at his statement. Reminded of the upcoming duel, he decides that maybe the whiskey isn’t such a bad idea and takes a drink. “And that I have dreamed many times of this day, and I have come to tell you that your time is not in short supply. Your people will not die today.”

As the Medicine Man finishes speaking, the sun has reached high noon. Earp is too focused on what will happen outside the saloon to realize he hadn't introduced himself by name.

“The sun is at it's highest point, Wyatt. I will be here for you all following the duel.” the Medicine Man says as he moves himself and the lawman into a standing position, and guides him to the swinging saloon door. 

Out of the window, the Clanton-McLaury Gang can be seen at the end of the street, waiting impatiently. The men looked at each other. Wyatt and Doc give each other reassuring nods, and unbuckle their holsters, readying their revolvers. Doc doesn’t look too good, he’s pale, clammy, and overall looks like a puddle of snot and sick. Morgan and Virgil look nervous but ready. They follow the other two, readying their revolvers as well. All four men leave the saloon, just as the clock on the wall begins to chime. A crowd had gathered along the roads edge, nosey types and all.  

The men hadn't made it to the center of the street before the bullets started flying. Wyatt knew that Ike played foul, but he hadn't expected early fire. Ike may be a sorry excuse for a man, but he respected the start of a duel. He liked to say goodbye to the poor sons of guns he was using as target practice. Billy, on the other hand...

The streets cleared after one shot, the Earps and Holliday ducked behind barrels and carts, shooting all the while. Wyatt hit with every shot he fired, none of the bullets came close to hitting him. Doc was dual-wielding revolvers with a knife between his teeth. If given the chance, he preferred to use it over the guns. Had he not been shot, he might've risked it. Morgan and Virgil were holding their own, but that halted when they were both shot as well. The Clantons and the McLaurys stay out in the open for the most part, hiding only to reload their revolvers.

By the time the shoot out was over, the only thing to be heard was the final chime of the clock, the fight had lasted less than a minute, just as the Medicine Man had envisioned.

When the dust had settled, Wyatt was fine. Doc, Virgil, and Morgan were all shot but still breathing. Billy Clanton and the McLaury brothers were dead, and Ike and Claiborne had fled, but from the looks of the dirt, they were hit too. 

The Medicine Man left his place at the window and exited the saloon. He walked to the wounded men and called to everything that nature had to offer, and from out of the infertile ground grew roots. The roots reached into the men and retrieved the bullets, and as the Medicine Man touched their foreheads, their wounds healed before their eyes, it was as if they had never been hit.

The county sheriff, Behan was his name, a friend of the McLaury brothers, arrested them on the spot. He tried to accuse them of murder. As this took place, the same roots that healed the wounded men reached out of the ground, wrapped around the bodies, and drew them into the earth.

The Medicine Man spoke then, “Officer, how can there be murder if there is no body?”

Behan snaps back with a dismissive, almost derogatory tone, “What do ya mean there ain't a body? These hellions just shot three men dead and you say there's no body! Just look at -”, as he turns to emphasize his point with an emphatic gesture, he sees the work of the Medicine Man, there are no bodies.  

“Are you makin’ a mockery of me?” Sheriff Behan growls with an accusatory narrowing of his eyes.

The Medicine Man replies slowly, knowing that this is pushing the limits in a lawful land, and unnecessary use of his power. “No, I do not want to fool you, but what I say is true, if there is no body, there is no murder.” As he finishes, he tips his head to Sheriff Behan, and Wyatt saw a small smile pulled at the edge of his ancient face. It was just enough for the man to see, but not Sheriff Behan.

Wyatt, his brothers, and his friend were released, but they were told to get the hell out of Dodge, to which Doc responded with a sarcastic “But this is Tombstone!” followed by a coughing fit of laughter. 

The Medicine Man spoke to them, with words older than all of them combined, and said, “You will be known forever by the tracks you leave.” 

The Medicine Man then turned to the edge of town, followed by his horse and cart. The farther he walked, the more he turned to dust. This dust returned to the men, and upon their vests appeared a brass badge. On each badge read the phrase “The Laws of the Outlaw”.

The men gathered their horses, their carts, their belongings, and split ways. Legends of each man remain, but not one word is spoken of the Medicine Man. Later in Wyatt’s journey, something fell from the pocket of his vest. On the ground, he found a bone with the inscription, “Death passes the man who does not fear to die”, and Wyatt knew that that bone was left by the Medicine Man. He knew that the bone was the reason he made it through the Shootout at the O.K. Corral.

Morgan Earp was assassinated by other members of the Cowboys a year after the shoot out at the O.K. Corral. His wife and his siblings were devastated. 

Virgil Earp was maimed a little after the shoot out and lost one of his arms. It is suspected that Ike and Billy had a part in it. Virgil later took Morgan’s body back to his parents in Colton, California with help from one of his many brothers, James Earp. After trying to become a professional gambler, he became the marshal of Colton. He set up a gambling hall but later died of pneumonia.

Doc Holliday returned to his well-worn life of drifting, gambling, and gunslinging. He never quit the drink, and eventually, his tuberculosis got the best of him. He had traveled all over the west but finally settled into a sanitarium in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. He died in his sleep at the ripe and fighin’ age of 36.

Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt Earp had no children, but everywhere that he ended up, he told the story of “Wyatt Earp and the Medicine Man”. Maddie Blaylock died 40 years before Wyatt due to an opium overdose. He traveled the country and eventually met his new and final with, Josephine. They eventually settled into a home somewhere in California, he died at the age of 81 due to a urinary tract infection, most likely to be cystitis. 

Nevertheless, the four men died a legend, and as for the Medicine Man… he still wanders the Wild West, looking for men to heal and legends to make.