They ate chicken fricassee at the Russ House and afterward they walked through the town. The March evening had not yet settled, but the sun was gone and there was a bluish cast to the light.

“I like Tombstone at this time of day,” Josie said. “It looks nicer than it is.”

“I like it early in the morning,” Wyatt said. “Before people are on the street.”

Josie laughed.

“I’ve never seen it then,” she said.

“Not an early bird?”

“No,” she said, “a night owl.”

They walked up Fifth Street, past the Vizina mine. The streets were busy.

“Johnny never wants me to walk around town. Not even with him. Says it’s undignified.”

“Probably is,” Wyatt said.

“Probably,” Josie said.

Past the Palace Lodging House across the street, an alley ran up to Sixth Street.

“Curley Bill killed Fred White down there,” Wyatt said. “Other end of the alley.”

“I heard he was acquitted,” Josie said.

“Fred said it was an accident, ’fore he died.”

“Wasn’t it just about cowboys being noisy on the street?”

“Yes.”

At Allen Street they stopped by Meyers clothing store. Across the street the Crystal Palace stood on one corner and the Oriental on the other.

“Luke Short killed Charlie Storms right there last month,” Wyatt said.

“Why?”

“Charlie was drunk,” Wyatt said. “Pushed Luke into it.”

“Did you know them?”

“Sure,” Wyatt said. “Knew Luke back in Dodge.”

“Is he a good fighting man?”

“You don’t want to jerk on Luke Short,” Wyatt said.

“Would you?”

Wyatt smiled.

“I’d get my brothers,” Wyatt said. “Outnumber him.”

“But you’re not afraid of him, are you?”

Wyatt looked startled.

“No,” he said. “ ’Course not.”

Josie smiled to herself.

“People die for so little in Tombstone,” she said.

“Not just Tombstone,” Wyatt said.

They stood quietly on the corner for a time watching the miners and cowboys moving in and out of the saloons. Light and sound splashed into the street when the saloon doors opened. There were saddle horses in the street, but very little wheeled traffic.

“We got some mining interests,” Wyatt said. “Office is down there, this side of the Grand.”

Josie nodded, but he could see she wasn’t interested in mining.

“What’s up this way?” she said, looking to her right.

“Past Sixth Street is whorehouses,” Wyatt said.

“Let’s walk up there.”

“It’s kind of raw,” he said.

“Oh good,” she said.

He smiled, and they turned right on Allen Street past the retail stores, mostly closed for the night, and the Arizona Brewery, still open. A construction site stood near the corner of Sixth, with a building half completed.

“Going to be the Bird Cage Theatre,” Wyatt said. “Bill Hutchinson’s putting it up.”

“Not a saloon,” she said.

“Well, a saloon too,” Wyatt said.

“I swear if they put up a convent,” Josie said, “it would have a saloon in the front.”

And they both laughed as they crossed the street into the bordello district.

No one paid much attention to Josie east of Sixth Street. They assumed she was a whore. But several people glanced at Wyatt.

“People are surprised to see you here,” Josie said.

“Haven’t spent much time here.”

“Faithful to what’s-her-name?”

“Mattie. I didn’t think I should embarrass her.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m with you,” he said.

By the time they walked back along Fremont Street it was dark. They turned up Third Street and stood for a moment on the front porch of her house. During the entire afternoon and evening they had not touched each other. They did not touch now.

“I’m not going to ask you in,” Josie said.

“All right,” Wyatt said.

“I will someday, I think. But now is too soon.”

“I have time,” Wyatt said.

“But I would like you to kiss me good night,” she said.

“That would be fine,” Wyatt said.

Bat Masterson walked into the Oriental with his bedroll across one shoulder, wearing two Colt revolvers and carrying a Sharps rifle, and sat down in a chair at Wyatt’s table. A big, high-shouldered horse wrangler named Bear shook his head at him.

“Don’t want no new players this game,” he said. “Break the way the cards are falling.”

Masterson paid no attention.

“Wyatt,” he said.

“Bat,” Wyatt said.

“You hear me, boy?” Bear said.

Bat glanced at him curiously for a moment and turned back toward Wyatt.

“Hear they might be hiring here,” he said.

Wyatt nodded and started to deal.

“Don’t you deal with him at the table,” Bear said.

“Friend of mine,” Wyatt said. “I’ll deal around him.”

“Don’t care if he’s a friend of the Virgin Mary,” Bear said. “I don’t want my luck changed.”

Wyatt looked almost as if he was going to smile.

“You going to change his luck, Bat?” Wyatt said.

Bat turned and looked at Bear. He was half Bear’s size. His eyes were a very pale blue.

“You want me to change your luck, cowboy?” Bat said.

Bear’s mouth opened and closed. He tried to hold Bat’s look and couldn’t.

Finally he said, “Aw shit,” and folded his hand.

No one else spoke.

“I’m out,” he said.

He picked up his chips and walked away from the table. Wyatt gestured to the other players, and they handed in their cards.

“You in?” he said to Bat.

“Sure,” he said.

Wyatt reshuffled and dealt again. By late afternoon, Bat had won four dollars, and Wyatt closed the game and took a table near the bar with Bat. Bat had a glass of whiskey. Wyatt had coffee.

“You really looking for work?” Wyatt said.

“Sure. Heard there was work here.”

“We can use you,” Wyatt said.

“I assume that some of the customers are tougher than Bear.”

“Some.”

“But not tougher than you and me,” Bat said.

“Not yet,” Wyatt said.

“Heard you and Virgil and Morg had a little standoff with a lynch mob.”

“Mob’s like a cattle herd,” Wyatt said, “you know that. All you got to do is turn ’em. What you been doing?”

“Up in Ogallala,” Bat said, “with Ben Thompson.”

“Peace officering?”

Bat laughed.

“Not exactly,” he said. “Ben’s brother Billy got himself in trouble up there. Me and Ben had to go up there and get him out ’fore they hung him.”

“Woman?”

“ ’Course,” Bat said. “Little whiskey mixed in. You know Billy.”

“Meanest loudmouthed drunken little bastard I ever ran into,” Wyatt said.

“Got Ben into a lot more trouble Ben ever got into himself,” Bat said.

Wyatt shrugged.

“Blood’s blood,” he said. “You on the run?”

“No, we got him out clean. I left him and Ben in Dodge, got a train to Trinidad, hopped a Santa Fe work train far as it went and caught the stage over to Deming.”

“Apache Country,” Wyatt said.

“Yeah, they let me ride shotgun.”

“Where they can get a clean shot at you,” Wyatt said.

Masterson laughed.

“What was that story Lincoln told, ‘Wasn’t for the honor I’d just as soon walk’? Anyway, we got to Deming and I got a train to Benson, and took the stage in.”

“Doc in town?” Masterson said.

Wyatt nodded.

“Big-Nose Kate is here with him,” he said.

“For how long?”

Wyatt shrugged.

“Half an hour be a long time with Kate,” he said.