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Blood Stained Badge (PART 1)

A play about the Tombstone Vendetta

By Jacob HerrPublished 4 years ago 21 min read


(OLD) WYATT EARP - Narrator

(YOUNG) WYATT EARP - Gambler / Deputy U.S. Marshal / U.S. Marshal

VIRGIL EARP - U.S. Marshal

MORGAN EARP - Deputy U.S. Marshal

DOC HOLLIDAY - Gambler / Deputy U.S. Marshal

FRED WHITE - U.S. Marshal

JOHNNY BEHAN - Cochise County Sheriff

TURKEY CREEK JOHNSON - Outlaw / Deputy U.S. Marshal

TEXAS JACK VERMILLION - Outlaw / Deputy U.S. Marshal

SHERMAN MCMASTERS - Outlaw / Deputy U.S. Marshal











An empty stage, except for a wooden rocking chair in relative close distance to the audience; lit up by one stage light. A dark figure walks across from one end of the stage to the other, as he sits in the rocking chair. This is (OLD) WYATT EARP.

(OLD) WYATT EARP: Hello ladies and gentlemen. My name, is Wyatt Earp. Sure I may look like just another old timer to you, but in my younger years I was quite the character. I’ve been a railroader, saloon-keeper, buffalo hunter, and a high class gambler. But I wonder how many people remember me as a lawman; and an unwilling one at that. All thanks to a frontier vendetta between my family, and a ruthless gang of murderous desperadoes. Which all grew to a head, in and around an old Arizona silver town, called Tombstone.



Scene change to a brightly lit stage. The setting is Tombstone, Arizona in 1879. The scenery consists of four buildings from left to right, the U.S. Marshal’s Office, the Jail, the Oriental Saloon, and C. S. Fly’s Photography and Boarding House. At the right end of the set is a sign that says “OK Corral”.

(OLD) WYATT: In the year 1879, my family had moved to Tombstone, after hearing reports of a massive silver boom in the Arizona desert. My brothers and I, Virgil and Morgan Earp, came to town hoping to make money, hand over fist. But by that time, our reputations as lawmen in the railheads of Kansas, like Wichita and Dodge City, had preceded us all.

Enter (YOUNG) WYATT EARP, VIRGIL EARP, and MORGAN EARP. Fresh off the beaten trail.

(YOUNG) WYATT EARP: It’s about time, boys. I’ve been waiting to arrive here since word of the silver strike. All thanks to you, Virgil.

VIRGIL EARP: No problem, Wyatt. After all, this town wouldn’t even exist without an act of pure lunacy.

MORGAN EARP: Lunacy? What are you talking about?

VIRGIL: Allow me to explain. The man who takes the credit for founding this place, is a prospector named Ed Schefflin. He was a prospector who liked to wander the hills and mountains of Arizona, all by himself; despite the ever constant danger of Geronimo and his band of Apaches on the warpath. The boys in blue out stationed at Fort Bowie would laugh and make fun of him; saying that all he would ever find out there was his own tombstone. So, naturally, when Mr Schefflin discovered one of the largest silver deposits to date, he made his first claim…


They laugh at their spontaneous response. Enter JOHNNY BEHAN and FRED WHITE from The U.S. Marshal’s office.

JOHNNY BEHAN: Excuse me, gentlemen? I just happened to hear a bit of your conversation as I was walking along. Are you new to this part of the country?

(YOUNG) WYATT: Yes, sir. Just got off the train at Tucson and made our way here. I’m Wyatt Earp. That there’s my older brother, Virgil, and my baby brother, Morgan.

BEHAN: The Earp brothers?! I consider it an honor to meet you! (shakes YOUNG WYATT's hand) The name’s Behan. John Behan. Cochise County Sheriff, Captain of the Tombstone Fire Brigade, and a member of the Arizona Territorial Legislature. This here is the Marshal, Frederick White.

FRED WHITE: Hello, Wyatt. I’ve heard about you boys and your work in the cattle towns. I was wondering if any of you would accept some work as …

(YOUNG) WYATT interrupts him.

(YOUNG) WYATT: Sorry, Fred. I'm gonna stop you right there. Those days, for us, are now behind us. We're men of business, now, and we intend to make our fortunes here. Whether if that means mining the silver or mining the miners.

FRED: (chuckling) Say no more. I understand. If you boys are looking for less hostile work, there’s always a need for help at the saloons, casinos, and the brothels. The mines run 24/7 here. The miners are always changing shifts and running off to blow their pay on the liquor, the tables, and the “free spirited” ladies.

(YOUNG) WYATT: Sounds like some lucrative corners, Marshal. Once we get ourselves set up at a boarding house, we’ll make some inquiries. It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you. (to VIRGIL and MORGAN) Let’s go, boys. Drinks are on me this time.

(YOUNG) WYATT , VIRGIL, and MORGAN walk into the Oriental Saloon. BEHAN and FRED, walk back into the U.S. Marshal’s Office.



Scene change to an outlaw hideout in the Dragoon Mountains. The hideout is made up of a large fireplace, and a flagpole with a tarnished Confederate battle flag. Enter CURLY BILL BROCIOUS, who stands before the fireplace, cleaning and loading a revolver in his hands.

(OLD) WYATT: I think something that must be understood, is that throughout our lives, neither me nor my brothers ever intended to have careers in law enforcement. But because of a constant series of circumstances in the Kansas cattle towns, we were always having to pick up the lawman’s badge. For what we didn’t know, was that the real law in and around Tombstone, was an organized gang of Ex-Confederates outlaws, known as “The Cochise County Cowboys”. Led by the notorious radical, William “Curly Bill” Brocious.

CURLY BILL BROCIOUS: Cowboys! Rally around me!

CURLY BILL pulls out his revolver and fires a shot into the air. Enter (in this order) IKE CLANTON, BILLY CLANTON, FRANK MCLAURY, TOM MCLAURY, BILLY CLAIBORNE, JOHNNY RINGO, TURKEY CREEK JOHNSON, TEXAS JACK VERMILLION, SHERMAN MCMASTERS, FRANK STILLWELL, and FLORENTINO CRUZ. All of them are wearing red sashes around their waists to indicate their loyalty to the old Confederacy.

CURLY BILL: Word around these parts, is that the Earp brothers, have made their stake here.

IKE CLANTON: You mean those Yankee law dogs out of Dodge City?

CURLY BILL: That’s right. I’m not surprised that they came here because of the silver rush. I just don’t know what to make of them. Are they here to get rich quick like everybody else? Or are they here to slap us around with tacked on tin stars?

TURKEY CREEK JOHNSON: I don’t see nothing wrong with them coming here. Besides, me and Texas Jack, met Wyatt Earp back in Dodge, about two years ago.

SHERMAN MCMASTERS: True. I knew Wyatt back when I was with the Texas Rangers. We were on the hunt for one Dave Rudabaugh; and I was shocked to hear from him that he was only wearing a badge in those railroad towns, just to make ends meet. Most of the time he worked as a faro dealer.

TEXAS JACK VERMILLION: And I hear that he’s working the faro table again at the Oriental.

CURLY BILL: Huh. You don’t say? … Alright, here’s the plan. I’m taking the Clanton and McLaury brothers into town, to see if these Texan’s talk of Wyatt Earp is true. Ringo?


CURLY BILL: I meant to ask earlier. How did you and the others make out across the border with those Rurales and their herd of Chihuahua steers?

RINGO: It was a pushover. Too easy. Those poor fools didn’t know what hit them. Cruz rode out in front as a lost rider looking for a water hole; talking in their native tongue. Meanwhile Caliborne, Frank, and myself charged in from the sides. At the end of it, we got the herd, got some loot, and a group of seven dead Rurales rotting in the sun. Another feast for the buzzards.

CURLY BILL: Where are the steers, now?

BILLY CLAIBORNE: They’re at the Clanton Ranch. All they need is some rebranding and then we can sell them at the auction in Wilcox. I figure we could get ourselves, at most, a good $9,000.

CURLY BILL: You see? That’s what I like to hear! A pot of nine grand means $750 per person. Ringo. You'll be taking charge while the Clantons, McLaurys, and myself are gone. I want you, Turkey Creek, Texas Jack, and McMasters to split up into the towns. Keep your ears open and your eyes peeled for potential cash grabs. The rest of you are on guard duty. Meeting dismissed.




Scene change to the town of Tombstone. In the background, there are the sounds of loud, drunken laughing and gunfire. Enter BEHAN from stage left. He knocks on the door of the Marshal’s office.

BEHAN: Marshal. … (knocks on the door harder) Marshal! Can you come out here please. We’ve got a problem out here.

Enter FRED from the door of the Marshal’s office.

FRED: I heard you the first time, John. What is it?

BEHAN: Drunkards shooting up the streets, again. Looks like some of Curly Bill’s bunch. Can you come out and calm them down.

Enter (YOUNG) WYATT from the Oriental Saloon.

(YOUNG) WYATT EARP: Gentlemen? What’s going on?

BEHAN: Bill Brocious. That's what's going on. He and some of his boys are raising a ruckus again. Spent all their money on liquor, and now Mr. Brocious is going about town, shooting whatever he can still see. Something has got to be done before someone gets hurt.

(YOUNG) WYATT EARP: Then why don’t you go stop him? Are you not the Sheriff?

JOHNNY BEHAN: Oh no. This is not a county matter, this is town business. Marshal?

FRED WHITE: (sighs) He has a point, Wyatt. Behan’s jurisdiction is only Cochise County; not the limits of individual towns. If one of us doesn’t step in, who will? Better step aside.

FRED walks downstage into the street. Enter CURLY BILL, laughing, shooting his two revolvers, and drunkenliy singing verses from "Dixieland". FRED draws his revolver.

FRED: I'm getting too old for this shit. William Brocious! You hold it right there! We warned you about you, your boys, and the drink. Can we go longer than a damn month without yall raising hell?

CURLY BILL: I guess not. You don’t like it, Fred? Then I guess you can kiss ... my southern ... rebel ... ass! (laughs)

FRED: You son of a bitch. Hand over your pistols!

CURLY BILL: Oh! Ok. Ok. Why sure, "officer". After all I’m just only a little drunk.

CURLY BILL surrenders his revolvers to FRED. The revolver “accidentally misfires” and kills FRED.

(YOUNG) WYATT: John. Give me your gun.

BEHAN: What?!


(YOUNG) WYATT grabs BEHAN’s revolver and approaches CURLY BILL.

CURLY BILL: Fred? Fred?! You really shouldn’t be snoozing the big sleep on the job, Fred! (laughs)

(YOUNG) WYATT whacks CURLY BILL over the head with the revolver barrel; knocking him unconscious. The scene freezes.

(OLD) WYATT: Now, despite the fact that most people know me as a man of fast action, very rarely did I ever fire my gun. I preferred instead to use the barrel of my gun as a club, and knock criminals out cold. Sounds a bit weird, but when a piece of metal weighing a good couple pounds clocks your block, it’s like being hit with a lead pipe.

The scene unfreezes. Enter IKE, BILLY, FRANK, and TOM.

FRANK: The hell was that?

(YOUNG) WYATT: Step aside, boys. I’m taking him in.

IKE, BILLY, FRANK, and TOM draw their guns.

TOM: Not on our watch, Wyatt.

IKE: I don’t see you wearing a badge. You have no right to take him away. Now hand him over!

(YOUNG) WYATT: Not a chance. He killed a man, and he’s going to stand trial for it.

IKE approaches (YOUNG) WYATT.

IKE: This is my only warning, pal. If you don’t hand him over to us right now, we’ll just have to shoot your guts full with lead, just like the old Marshal here. Is playing hero really worth dying over?

(YOUNG) WYATT cocks the hammer of the revolver and aims it at IKE’s throat.

(YOUNG) WYATT EARP: If I die here and now by the hands of you or your friends, I’m at least taking you with me. So think about that, if you will.

Enter DOC HOLLIDAY with two revolvers. DOC fires two shots into the air. Making his presence known.

DOC: Alright now! You’ve heard the man. Go on about your business and leave him to conduct his.

(YOUNG) WYATT: Doc? … Doc, is that you?!

BILLY: Ha ha ha! What do you know? I've heard you you, sir. You're Doctor John Henry Holliday. The Drunken Georgia Lunger. A broke tooth puller thanks to the consumption. I bet he can’t hit a stray dog in daylight.

DOC : (spinning a pistol) Well, let’s find out. Shall we? I may have had a drink or two too many, but that potlicker, Frank McLaury busted my winning streak back at the tables. Let’s find out how well the mick and his brother can dance the riverstomp.

FRANK: Wait. What?

DOC turns one gun on FRANK and the other on TOM. DOC HOLLIDAY fires eight shots at their feet while singing "The Wild Rover". FRANK and TOM fearfully jump to avoid getting shot. IKE, BILLY, FRANK, and TOM fearfully exit.

DOC: (holstering his guns) Good evening, Wyatt. (coughs) Still playing the law game, I assume?

(YOUNG) WYATT: Not voluntarily, Doc, but it's damn good to see you again! Seems that trouble like this just keeps reaching the doorstep. Thanks for that little stunt. For all I know your true calling was the stage and not the dental chair. Buy you one more drink for the night?

DOC: Of course. (pulling out a hankerchief and coughing more) As you know I am quite the connoisseur when it comes to spirits of all sorts. They’ve kept me alive this long.

(YOUNG) WYATT: Of course. Hey, Johnny? Since you appear to be the only lawman left, I advise you drag Mr. Brocious off to Jail, get Fred off the ground, and under it. Here's your gun back. If you need help, just give out another yell and I'll be over at Boot Hill with a shovel.

(YOUNG) WYATT tosses BEHAN's gun to him. He and DOC walk into the Oriental Saloon. BEHAN, catching the gun, holsters it, grabs CURLY BILL’s arms and drags him into the jail.



Scene change to the town of Tombstone. On the right side of the stage is a grave stone with the following markings: FREDERICK WHITE (1849-1880).

(OLD) WYATT: From Fred White’s death in 1880 to the spring of '81, the tension between my family and the cowboy gang only increased. A new Marshal was appointed by the territorial governor. But little did I know that the man appointed, was my oldest brother. Who just so wanted clean house and make it very public.

Enter VIRGIL and MORGAN. VIRGIL is wearing a U.S. Marshal badge. He stands outside of the Marshal’s office with a poster in his hands.

VIRGIL: (reading the poster aloud) By decree of Mayor John Clum and common council of Tombstone, Arizona, do ordain as follows. Article 1. It is hereby unlawful for any person to carry lethal weapons (concealed or otherwise) within the town limits of Tombstone. Article 2. This provision does not extend to persons immediately leaving or entering town limits, who in good faith and reasonable time, dispense with their weapons. Article 3. All officers of the law and their deputies are not bound by this decree, in the execution of their duties. Article 4. Any person violating this decree shall be found guilty of a misdemeanor crime, and shall be fined a sum of $250, imprisoned for 30 days, or both.

VIRGIL hands the poster to MORGAN; nailing it next to the door of the US Marshal’s office. Enter (YOUNG) WYATT EARP out of the Oriental Saloon.

(YOUNG) WYATT: What in the hell is going on out here?

VIRGIL: As the new Marshal, I must announce that a new town ordinance is being put into effect. The carrying of lethal weapons in town is henceforth illegal.

(YOUNG) WYATT: New Marshal?! Virgil, how could you? I thought we weren't getting involved anymore!

VIRGIL: Let’s face it, Wyatt. We got involved the day we stepped foot into this town. The entire country is reading about Tombstone and the Arizona Territory in the papers. And they are not reading about it's growth to statehood. What they are reading about is a gang of Ex-Confederate cutthroats and renegades, who think that they are above the law. How many bodies is it going to require in order for somebody to give these ruffians a reality check?

(YOUNG) WYATT: Oh. So now you think that by becoming the Marshal, this territory will step closer to statehood?

VIRGIL : At least it’s a step in the right direction.

(YOUNG) WYATT: I can’t believe I’m even hearing this! Can you knock some sense into him, Morgan?

MORGAN sullenly opens his coat to reveal a Deputy U.S. Marshal badge.

(YOUNG) WYATT: Oh, no. No. No! Not you too!

MORGAN: I couldn’t resist, Wyatt. If Virgil’s going to be the new Marshal, he’s going to need all the help he can get. Help that Fred White didn’t have. Help that could’ve saved his life.

(YOUNG) WYATT: Ok. Now you hear me. Both of you! Back in Dodge, I was only involved in one shooting; just one. When the smoke cleared, a man lost his life, and it still haunts me, because I still don’t know whether it was my bullet or someone else’s that hit the mark. The last thing I want is either of you to lose yours. We came here to move on with our lives and make our fortunes, not to carry on a temporary job. Yet, since I can't seem to get that into your heads, don't mind me. I vowed not to get involved anymore and I damn well meant it!

(YOUNG) WYATT exits.

VIRGIL: So be it. Morgan? Do me a favor and open up Curly Bill’s cell.

MORGAN: Seriously?

VIRGIL: Judge Spicer is dropping the case. He says that an anonymous witness testimony insisted that since Curly Bill was intoxicated during the shooting, he was in no mental state to “intentionally desire” to kill Fred White. I sounds a bit hokey but the judge’s word is final. He’s free to go. Let him out.

MORGAN: Sure thing, Virgil.

MORGAN walks into the jail and escorts CURLY BILL out.

VIRGIL: Mr. Brocious. Your debt to society has been paid. I advise that you get out of town before you stir up any more of a ruckus.

CURLY BILL spits in front of VIRGIL.

CURLY BILL: My debt may be paid, but your grave is being chiseled as you speak. Keep trying to round us up. I fucking dare you.

VIRGIL: Have it your way then, Mr. Brocious. Morgan? Guide this man on his way out of town.

MORGAN grabs CRULY BILL by the ear, and drags him off stage. VIRGIL exits the stage, following them.

(OLD) WYATT: With Virgil as the new Marshal, there was no improvement in relations with the outlaws. In fact, more members of the cowboy gang descended upon Tombstone, just to push Virgil’s buttons. On one occasion Virgil and Morgan caught Mr. Ringo and McLaury brothers rebranding a pack of mules they had stolen from the U.S. Cavalry. They promised that if no arrests were made, they would return them to Fort Rucker the next day. A promise made, but never kept. Another time, The Clanton brothers, Billy Claiborne, Frank Stilwell, and Florentino Cruz tried smacking up some shady ladies at the Red Light District. In response, my brothers forced them to leave town, on horseback, while stark naked. Yet by the autumn of 1881, it had gotten to the point where almost the entire gang had called Tombstone their own “turf”.



The town of Tombstone. Enter IKE, DOC, and from the Oriental Saloon.

IKE: Holliday, you goddamn cheat! Nobody wins 9 hands of Poker, in a row, while drunk.

DOC: You just can’t tolerate the fact, that you lost all your earnings to yours truly. Along with the fact that Poker is not your forte. I would recommend you risk it all on a game that’s more fitting for your level of intelligence, Mr. Clanton. Like Tic Tac Toe. (laughs)

IKE: Are you siding with him on this, Morgan? I’m the one who got ripped off. I want my money back!

MORGAN: Nobody is conning you, Ike. You’re drunk. Bunk up and sleep it off.

IKE: To hell with you, law dog! If I’m not going to get my money here at the Oriental, I’ll just go to someplace else. The Crystal Palace, The Alhambra, anywhere else, and have myself a decent time. You bastards are everything that’s wrong with this town!

Exit IKE.

MORGAN: Don’t mind him. He’ll be knocked out cold in an hour, wake up in the streets, and not remember a thing.

DOC HOLLIDAY: What can I say? (covers and coughs) Some people just can’t stand losing to me at Five Card Draw. And it just so happens that most of those people are dead. Self defense.

They laugh. MORGAN walks back into the Oriental Saloon. DOC walks into C.S. Fly’s Photography and Boarding House. Light change to noon-time. Enter a drunk IKE, with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a rifle in the other.

IKE CLANTON: Wyatt Earp! … Morgan Earp! … Virgil Earp! Get out here and face me like a real man would! This aint Dodge City! Those Kansas cocksuckers out east aren’t shit compared to us!

Enter BEHAN.

BEHAN: What in heavens name is the ruckusing for, Ike? First, Curly Bill, and now you?

IKE: John? ... Johnny! Johnny, boy. You know what I’m going to do today, Johnny? Hmm? I’m going to kill me some them Yankee Earps! And I’m sure as hell, going to kill that lunger, Doc Holliday. Now. You tell me Johnny. Where can I find me these men? … WHERE?!

BEHAN: Mr. Holliday is residing at C.S. Fly’s Boarding House near the OK Corral. That’s all I know.

IKE CLANTON: Thank you ... Thank you, Johnny. (patting Behan's shoulder) You have been a great help. Now go find me those Earps. NOW!

BEHAN nervously exits. IKE exits in the opposite direction in his drunken stupor. Light change to the afternoon. Enter VIRGIL out of the Marshal’s office, with a shotgun in his hands.

VIRGIL: (calling into the saloon) Wyatt, Morgan. You in there? Come on out here for a moment.

Enter (YOUNG) WYATT and MORGAN from the saloon.

VIRGIL: Have you heard any of Ike’s death threats?

MORGAN: Oh sure. Wyatt and I have heard them almost all day.

VIRGIL: Well, I’ll have you know that he and five other cowboys are holding up at the OK Corral. Locals are saying they're heeled.


VIRGIL: They're violating the town ordinance and threatening our lives; terroristic threats against public officials. I intend to disarm them. Morgan. You're coming along.

(YOUNG) WYATT: They might be on their way out of town. Why add any more fuel to this fire?

VIRGIL: I have an obligation to protect and serve, Wyatt. We’re all going to look weak and lose the respect of this community. If the marshals do nothing, then who knows what's gonna happen, here? The last this toewn needs is one more step of dissention into anarchy. I’ve made up my mind, and those cowboys will be disarmed one way or another. Morgan?

MORGAN: I'm with you. Wyatt?

(YOUNG) WYATT: (sighing with his head in his hands) I don’t like the sound of any of this, but I'm still your brother and you can count me in. Can you get me a badge and a gun out of the armory?

VIRGIL: Which one?

(YOUNG) WYATT: The one Mr. Buntline gave me back in Dodge City. You can't miss it.

VIRGIL quickly walks in and out of the Marshal’s office with a Deputy U.S. Marshal badge, and a revolver with an elongated barrel. He hands the gun and the badge to (YOUNG) WYATT. (YOUNG) WYATT puts the revolver into his holster, and pins on the badge.

VIRGIL: Are your belts full?


VIRGIL: Alright. Let’s go.

VIRGIL, MORGAN, and (YOUNG) WYATT prepare to exit. Enter DOC from C. S. Fly’s Photography and Boarding House, with a cane.

DOC: Earps! Where in the hell are you going?

(YOUNG) WYATT: We’re going down to the corral. There’s a group of cowboys we need to disarm.

DOC: Do you mind if I accompany you?

VIRGIL: This has nothing to do with you, Doc. You don’t need to be thrown into all this.

DOC approaches VIRGIL.

DOC: Well, that is a hell of a thing for you to say to me. I may understand that you intend to disarm the miscreants, but do you think the miscreants themselves will understand your intent; especially with that scattergun

VIRGIL EARP: Alright, smart ass.

VIRGIL trades his shotgun for DOC’s cane.

MORGAN: Keep it under your coat. If things get hot, let them have it.

DOC: By all means.

They all exit. Enter IKE, BILLY, FRANK, TOM, and CLAIBORNE from the entrance of the OK Corral.

CLAIBORNE: So what do you suppose we do now?

IKE: We get our guns ready for a fight. We’re going to be doing Curly Bill and Ringo a favor by killing off the Earps. These sons a bitches think they can waltz on into Tombstone, pin on some fancy badges and think they can suddenly tell us all what to do? Them badges don't make them right.

FRANK: Of course not.

BILLY: After all, the most he can do is bring that scrawny brother of his with him. Let’s face it, its 5 men against 2. What could go wrong?


CLAIBORNE: Oh shit. They brought Wyatt and Doc along. I aint in no mood to kill myself today. To hell with this!

CLAIBORNE instantly runs away and exits.

IKE: Claiborne. Claiborne, get back here!

VIRGIL EARP: Throw up your hands, boys. We’re here to disarm you.

FRANK: (oppositional) We will.

FRANK and BILLY defiantly go for their guns. VIRGIL, (YOUNG) WYATT, and MORGAN go for their revolvers. DOC draws the shotgun.

VIRGIL: Hold! That’s not what I want!

DOC: (cocking the shotgun hammers) You sons-a-bitches. You've been egging for a fight and now you've got one.

There is a standoff for 10 seconds (YOUNG) WYATT, FRANK, and BILLY simultaneously draw their guns and fire. FRANK and BILLY's shots miss, but YOUNG WYATT's strikes FRANK in the gut. VIRGIL and MORGAN draw and fire; shooting at BILLY and hitting him in the chest and wrist. TOM runs to a rifle placed on the side of the stage. DOC aims the shotgun and kills TOM with two blasts of buckshot. IKE rushes up to (YOUNG) WYATT and grabs his arm.

IKE: NO! Don’t shoot! I aint armed!

(YOUNG) WYATT: This fight's commenced, Clanton! Get to fighting or get out!

(YOUNG) WYATT shoves IKE out of the way. IKE runs for his life and exits. The EARP brothers shoot at FRANK but their shots miss. FRANK fires three shots and hits VIRGIL in the calf. BILLY shoots MORGAN in the shoulder. Both brothers fall down, wounded. DOC drops the shotgun, draws his first revolver, and fires all six shots at BILLY; killing him. A wounded FRANK MCLAURY faces off against DOC.

FRANK MCLAURY: I've got you, now, Holliday.

DOC tosses aside his first pistol and draws his second.

DOC: Two stars keep not ther motion in one sphere, Frank. Blaze away. You’re a daisy if you do.

FRANK and DOC fire simultaneously. DOC's shot misses, while FRANK’s shot grazes DOC in the hip, causing him to lose balance and fall.

DOC HOLLIDAY: By Jove. I’m shot trough!

MORGAN aims and shoots FRANK in the temple; killing him.

(OLD) WYATT: When the smoke cleared that afternoon, on October 26, 1881, Billy Clanton, and the McLaury's were all shot to pieces. Big brother Virgil was hit in the calf, Baby brother Morgan was hit in the shoulder, and Doc Holliday was grazed in the hip. I was the only one that stood unscathed. At the time, I once thought this gunfight would end the feud; but little did my young and callow self understand, was that it was only the opening battle, of what was about to become an all out war.




About the Creator

Jacob Herr

Born & raised in the American heartland, Jacob Herr graduated from Butler University with a dual degree in theatre & history. He is a rough, tumble, and humble artist, known to write about a little bit of everything.

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