Bookshelf Battle

“I can’t,” Slade said. “I’m sorry. I made a promise to someone important to me that I’d try to die with my boots on.”

Earp smirked. “Noble thought. Easier said than done. Who’d you promise that to?”

“My Deputy.”

“Gunther Beauregard?”

“You know him?” Slade asked.

“Our paths crossed a few times,” Earp said. “Good man. I was sorry to hear he died. Forty years as a U.S. Marshal and he never once demanded credit, hogged the attention or even sought a promotion. Never bothered a man unless he bothered him first. If there were more Gunther Beauregards in the world, my job would become unnecessary and you wouldn’t hear a complaint from me.”

Earp stood up. Everyone else followed.

“I’m sorry,” Slade said. “You came all this way for nothing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Earp said as he picked up the star.

Earp tipped his hat at Miss Bonnie. “Ma’am.”

“Marshal,” she replied.

Earp slapped Tobias on the shoulder. “It’s that hat or pussy, son. Make a choice because you’ll never have both.”

Slade picked up the deck of cards then walked Earp outside, where the greatest lawman in the West’s horse was tied to a post.

“Funny thing you said about pussy,” Slade said. “You must think I’m one.”

“Oh hell no, Slade,” Earp said. “I don’t think anyone can call the man who stopped the United States from being overthrown by a damn vampire and his army of zombies a pussy. Practical is more like it and now that I know you spent some time with Gunther it makes sense.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” Slade said. “The last ten years since I became a Marshal, all I’ve ever done is try to be like you.”

Earp scoffed. “Shit. Don’t be like me. Even I don’t want to be like me.”

Slade looked Earp in the eye. “You ever feel like, when you do this job, that you’re at war with who you are on the inside and who you need to be on the outside in order to win?”

“Nope,” Earp replied. “If a man deserves it, I’ll shoot him dead then fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.”

“I try to pretend I’m like that,” Slade said. “But every man I’ve ever shot deserved it and they all haunt me. I used to walk around pretending like they don’t. Sometimes I feel like I still need to.”

Earp put his hand out. Slade shook it.

“Good,” Earp said. “Then there’s hope for you yet.”

Hope. That was a big word for Slade. He was once convinced he was out of it, but now he was feeling like he had it more and more every day. Even a man he admired saw it in him.

Earp continued. “Sure, when we all start out in the Marshal’s service, a lot of men have to pretend like they breathe fire and shit daggers but once they earn their reputation as a good law man, they can act however they want. You foiled a Legion plot that was years in the making, Slade. You’ve earned the right to just be yourself.”

Slade let out a sigh of relief as though Earp’s words brought him great comfort. “Do you really shit daggers?”

“Sure do,” Earp replied. “Makes a mess out of the outhouse.”

Earp took the star in his hand and pinned it to Slade’s shirt.

“But I…”

“While you’re talking about yourself,” Earp said. “Let me tell you about a side of yourself you haven’t met yet. See, my brothers and I all agreed that once we retired from the law and left Dodge City, we were never going to pick up a star ever again. We were going to become businessmen in Tombstone and live the good life. We did our part. We earned some happiness. But sure enough, just when you think you’ve left all the assholes behind you, new ones arise, dirtier and smellier than ever. And try as you might to say that you don’t give a shit, that it’s not your problem, you know deep down inside that you care and sooner or later, you’ll pick up that star and fight those assholes again because if you don’t, no one else will.”

Slade looked at the star, then back to Earp.

“Do what you please with it, Slade,” Earp said. “Wear it on your shirt proudly. Take it off, throw it in a drawer and never look at it again. Live your life. Love your woman. Love your young’un. But on top of the vampires, zombies and werewolves, there are still plenty of human shit heels who will be happy to attack this nice town you’ve got here and when that day comes, you’ll need to do what you need to do. That star will make it nice and legal, whatever that means these days.”

Earp untied his horse then climbed up into the saddle. Slade shuffled through the deck and held up the Chairman’s card.

“Marshal Earp,” Slade said.

Earp corrected him. “Wyatt.”

“Wyatt,” Slade said. “Get the rest of them and I’ll ride with you against him.”

Earp tipped his hat at Slade. “I’ll hold you to that.”