A series of headcanons and one shots dedicated to Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo, from the 1993 film Tombstone. ^^
All of these come from my tumblr blog of the same name.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Chapter 4 will be available on Patreon early! )
All the way back to camp, Curly Bill felt the wind brush against his face. He felt lighter, serene, even. He chuckled at the thought of himself using the kinds of words Johnny would, but he couldn't help but have a sense of clarity from how he felt. He wasn't just happy, but he wouldn't describe himself as overwhelmed with joy, rather, he felt at peace with himself.
That peace stayed with him even as he tied his horse up and headed back to his tent for the night.
His cot groaned stiffly as Bill laid upon it. His hands cupped the back of his head, gazing up at the tent's ceiling. All that passed through his ears was the whistling of the trees and the occasional cough from Ike in the distance. Bill laid there for what felt like hours, just reliving the day he had with you. He didn't even know when he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Thunderous galloping ripped Bill from his slumber. It was light out, but the day had not broken the horizon just yet.
Bill hopped out of his tent, yanking his legs through his jeans, to see what the commotion was. At the center of camp, a great red cloud billowed in, engulfing the small group of Cowboys that had gathered around it.
As the dust settled, familiar forms emerged from the haze, dusting themselves off with wide smiles.
"Billy!" Ike cawed, recognizing his brother's gait.
"Johnny?!" Bill perked up, rushing over to meet the rest of the crowd.
Indeed, Johnny Ringo and his posse marched out of the haze, with his arms spread out, as if to embrace every member of the gang. Through his thick mustache, Johnny's grin shined like ivory. Curly Bill and the surrounding Cowboys looked on, confused by Johnny's unusually jovial demeanor.
"Gentlemen," Johnny paused, "we found our way back into Mexico!"
The whole camp exploded into cheers and gunshots, Bill galloped to Johnny and embraced him with a tight bear hug. Barnes and Billy lifted Ike upon their shoulders and spun him around; the old Clanton howled, holding his crutches above his head like a king, his staff.
"How'd ya do it, Juanito? How did you get back in?" Curly Bill asked, firmly gripping Johnny's shoulders.
Johnny chortled with a deep breath, "It wasn't easy, that's for sure. Let me get something to drink first."
"You heard this man!" Bill roared with laughter, "Crack the kegs, pop the champagne, pull out the good stuff you was savin'! These boys are thirsty!"
Soon, the whole camp had gathered around to hear Johnny's tale. The very air began to stink of alcohol, as no bottle was spared from being opened. However, Curly Bill realized, a bit too late, that they should've had breakfast first. In hardly any time at all, the dehydrated, starving Johnny Ringo began to slur his words and slosh around his half-full bottle of whiskey.
