When the Strength of Men Wavers - A Tombstone Fanfiction

Chapter Two - Wyatt

There had been no need for a grand show of intimidation, for Johnny Tyler simply threw up his hands and backed away, stammering apologies to Ida while side-eyeing Wyatt's scowl. Wyatt had of course been bluffing.

The walk to Wyatt's place on the edge of town was a silent one, but Ida could almost see the smoke coming from his ears. Once they reached the parlor, Wyatt turned on her.

"What in the hell were you thinking showing up here?" Wyatt's voice was louder and angrier than she had ever heard. She didn't expect her older brother to be particularly welcoming, but this was an unpleasant surprise. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, not without notice from Wyatt.

"God damnit, I should have turned you right back around..." he cursed.

"Wyatt, I am not going to apologize for coming to see my brothers," Ida spoke as evenly as she could, "and I am certainly not going to be sent home—," her voice raised to meet his, "I can't be sat back at home wondering whether I am going to see my brothers ever again!"

Wyatt ran both hands through his hair, looking like he was at his wit's end.

"You insolent girl," he mumbled. But before Ida could retort, she was wrapped in familiar arms. Just the feeling alone was enough to bring her to sobbing tears, but his words simply broke the dam.

"It's so good to see you, Ida."

Wyatt explained to her the events of the past couple of weeks in as short detail as he could, pausing momentarily to gather himself as he explained Morgan's death. He described the threat the gang of outlaws—self-proclaimed to be the "Cowboys"—posed not only to the whole town but to Ida herself, being an Earp. The Clantons and their whole posse had it out for the Earps for "meddling in the Cowboys' business"; Ida guessed that there had been blood. Virgil, due to the lost function of an arm, had left with the womenfolk just days after the procession for Morgan.

Ida became utterly irate. Who were these men to take Morgan's life? What business did they have threatening her brothers' wives, expecting no consequences, and outright murdering for their collective pride? These men had it in their heads that they rightfully ran Tombstone, and any place they happened to pass through. It felt good to feel something other than the hollow pain of grief, even for just a moment.

"So you're planning to stay," Ida questioned, "and do something about these so-called cowboys?"

"Well, we're doing something alright, we just won't be staying in Tombstone," Wyatt spoke from his seat at the dining table, his hands folded on the polished surface.

"You're leaving?" Ida felt exasperation welling up in her chest. "When?" She wrung her hands underneath the table.

Wyatt thought for a moment, then spoke, "Well, we would have been in the saddle tomorrow morning if it weren't for your showing up."

Ida's stomach dropped. Wyatt would be leaving nearly as soon as she arrived in this cursed town, leaving her to fend for herself until his return. While she knew her capabilities weren't lacking, she hardly desired the loneliness. Grieving was hard enough without a shoulder to cry on. She steeled herself nonetheless, deciding to convince Wyatt that leaving to deal with—or rather, exact revenge on—the Cowboys would only be a selfish act. Convince him to think of Pa and Adelia, if nothing else.

"Listen, Wyatt. I know what you're feeling. Believe me when I say I feel it too. But you can't go get yourself killed when you and Virgil are all we've got left." Her words hung in the air. Wyatt's expression remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the tabletop.

"You don't know what I'm feeling, Ida," He finally said. "I watched Morgan die. He just saw darkness—no light at the end of the tunnel, he said. I had his blood on my hands, Ida." His voice was choked, desperate even. "Please understand why I have to leave."

Ida thought for a beat. She did know what Wyatt was feeling. She knew exactly what he was feeling. And that feeling was dangerous.

"Alright," she leveled. She would be giving him no choice.

* * *

The next morning when the men arrived at the stables, they found Ida waiting with a saddled horse. The sorrel mare took interest in Ida's blouse sleeves as she stood resolutely against the will of her older brother.

Wyatt had left her with an incredibly generous amount of money the previous night as he went to make final preparations for the morning, and she had taken it to pay for the wily mare who was steeply discounted for her temperament. The remaining funds had gone toward a shortened, black wool walking skirt fit for riding like a man; a pinched front beaver pelt hat; a hide jacket for those chilling desert nights; a sensible white, long-sleeved, cuffed blouse that she tucked into her skirt; and a saddle with a double saddlebag. She packed only the necessities: a single change of undergarments, Morgan's Colt revolver, a bedroll, and some dried fruit and beef she found in Wyatt's kitchen cupboards. Well, the necessities and a book. Jane Eyre had been on the shelf at the general store next to the fabrics and sewing supplies; she couldn't resist. Finally, Ida arranged for a telegram to be sent back to Illinois to explain the lengthy absence to Pa and Adelia, then she set her mind to leave.

Wyatt immediately rushed to pull her aside, chastising her for her foolishness. He threatened through clenched teeth to have one of the stable hands escort her back to his cottage.

"No, Wyatt," she spoke firmly despite her apprehension, "I have made my decision. Whether it hinders your party here or not, I will be coming with you. You left me no choice." Ida felt her fingertips buzzing with adrenaline. Wyatt's shock was painted plainly on his face.

"You can't—" Wyatt began, and Ida cut him off.

"Yes, Wyatt, I can. You know me—you know I'm just like you. If you have ever respected me, you'll let me go with you." She paused before adding quietly, "—and I swear to you that I will take myself home if it becomes too much." And that promise seemed to convince him, at least for the time being. "What's more, you could use my help with cooking and patching up." Wyatt gave her a sidelong glance—almost considering her.

"Damnit, you crazy woman," Wyatt cursed under his breath before turning to the awaiting men. "Well boys, it looks like we will be adding another to our outfit."

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Author's Note

Second installment. Yeehaw. Once again, sorry for Doc's absence--he'll be in the next one! Thank you so much for your read. <3