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gesticulating wildly, arms
flailing madly, then he disappeared into the alley.
    Billy didn’t take it for
granted that he couldn’t hear Seth’s screams or his horse’s hoofbeats. He and
Prince Valiant aimed for the alley, charging for it like they were under
cannon-fire. They leapt another set of tracks and pounded toward the alley
where Gerald had been standing. They slowed and turned the corner, expecting to
see Gerald and a crowd—
    Billy pulled Prince Valiant
up hard, practically putting the horse down on his haunches as they skidded to
a stop. In the settling dust, a tall man, dressed in a black hat and long black
duster, stood alone, calmly loading bullets into his revolver. Billy scanned
the empty alley. The man raised his head, the Stetson slowly revealing
cold blue eyes and a bushy handlebar mustache. He slid his gun into his holster
and pushed aside his left lapel to reveal a silver star.
    Gerald was waving me away.
    The absence of pounding
hoofbeats from behind could only mean that Seth had understood the signal. Air
escaped Billy’s lungs as he sagged in the saddle, regretting his arrogance.
    “My name is Wyatt Earp,
Dodge City marshal.” The man’s deep voice resonated with confidence. “That is
one fine-looking piece of horseflesh, son. But racing it on busy streets is
frowned upon.” And, in case Billy had any questions about his immediate future,
Earp added somberly, “You are under arrest, and your horse is hereby
impounded.”
    ~~~
     
     
    Billy stepped into the eight-by-ten cell and winced as the door
clanged shut behind him. He could feel Earp watching him but didn’t turn. He
needed to take all this in. He appraised the filthy, stained cot to his left
and swore he saw something on it move. Or slither. Fighting a feeling of
failure that threatened to swamp him like a flood, he trudged to the far wall,
turned his back to it, snatched off his hat, and slid to the ground.
    He’d started out with a good plan. Go west. Find Hannah. Get off
the train in Dodge City for one or two horse races. Same as all his other
choices, this one had been just about as smart as kicking a hornet’s nest.
    Let’s see , just what have my
stellar decisions cost me? The love of a good woman. A relationship with my
son. Ever seeing my mother again. A few bones in my right hand. The family
fortune. My dignity. My horse .
    I am on a roll.
    Earp rested a boot on the
iron crossbar at the bottom of the cell door and shook his head. Gripping the
bars, he chuckled. “I have brought in some sorry sights, but I think you’re
about the sorriest. This is the last place a boy like you should find himself.”
    Billy rolled his head back
against the wall and shut his eyes. “Most of the men you bring in here are,
what, drunk and belligerent? Broken and defeated?” Billy’s voice faded,
softened to a tone that was merely thinking out loud as he raised his head to
stare through Earp. “Is that what a man becomes when he loses everything?”
    Earp scratched his nose.
“Listen, son, I’m not your priest—”
    “And I’m not your son.”
    “True enough. But you are in
my cell. And that means you’ll listen when I talk.” Apparently taking Billy’s
silence as agreement, he went on talking. “For what it’s worth, you may be dead
broke—stripped of everything ’cept your long johns, and I’d still say you’ve
got more going for you than ninety percent of the mongrels I haul in here.”
    Billy dragged his knees up
and rested his hands on them. “You don’t know anything about me. Everything I
had going for me is gone.”
    Earp fell silent. His hard,
empty eyes studied Billy for a few seconds. In the next instant, his stare
drifted. Absently, he stroked the long bushy mustache that all but hid his
mouth. “I know that what you think is going to kill you today will make you
stronger tomorrow,” he blinked and returned to the moment, “if you let it.
That’s the ticket, son. You have to choose to get back up and