And to this end, he was even now installing a handsome dentist’s chair, complete with all the trimmings a lady loves, in his new premises on Main Street, Tombstone. ‘Easy there!’ he said to the Wells Fargo delivery boys, ‘You hear me? You carry that there piece of merchandise real gentle – like she was a one-day bride!’ His mind right set on domesticity, you will note? And I’ll tell you for why. In some fly-bitten cow-town down the circuit a-piece, he had recently had occasion to shoot the bejesus out of one Reuben Clanton – of whom we have already heard so much. Some trifling altercation of an academic nature – in fact, as to just how many aces a man can reasonably be expected to have up his sleeve at the one time; that was the point at issue between them which had caused the argument. And, as usual, Doc had won it. Fair enough, you will likely say; and, on account of the sporting ethic prevailing at the time, I agree. But the said Reuben Clanton had friends in town, and they didn’t see it our way.
What do You think about Doctor Who: The Gunfighters?
