Clara Grady sits on a high horse with a quick tongue. That is until her family moves to Tombstone, Az where she meets her match in John Henry 'Doc' Holliday. Their encounter incites a series of heated conversations, daring flirtations, and foolish g...
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Author's Note: I want to start by stating that this is the only A/N I will post at the beginning of any chapters to come. Also, I want to apologize in advance for delving into yet another Fanfiction, especially when I'm still working to finish Sweet Sacrifices, Bitter Green, and The Torrid Affair. Allow me to explain though. I recently watched (For the hundredth time) Tombstone and as the majority rules, Val Kilmer's Doc Holliday was-is, marvelous. I was craving fanfiction involving Doc with a female OC and while there are beautiful one-shots out there, I needed a more elaborate story. Thus, this little tidbit popped into my head and I (without shame) ran with it.
I've been extremely nervous in posting this, namely for the fear of not doing the character in the movie justice. What can I say, I, really, fear flames. That being said, I worked to the best of my ability to make this read smooth. I don't have a beta reader and I can only bother my partner to proofread so many times before they tell me to bugger off. So please, do forgive me for my errors. I'm not perfect and will never claim to be. Hoping that my work here has paid off, it would be lovely to have some feedback (especially regarding my ability to keep dear, sweet, devilish Doc and others that follow in character.) I've also taken into consideration the customs and ways of the time.
Without further delay, I give you Foolish Games. A Doc Holliday/OC romance. Vote and review if it pleases you; it's always lovely to get feedback. Most importantly, I hope you enjoy it. This truly is a labour of love.
Chapter One
Early Summer 1881
The Arizona heat was stifling inside the small coach. They had been traveling all day, crammed together with all their luggage like sardines in a tin. Hot and sweaty, Clara Grady did all she could to ignore these irritations. Instead, she focused on a small opened book on her lap. Reveling in the occasional breeze that wafted through the carriage window.
"I'll never understand your fascination with reading the macabre." Mother fussed from the opposite of her. Clara knew exactly what she had meant by it, too. So she closed the old book. She rested her head against the sideboards of the jittering stagecoach.
"But, Mama," Clara spoke with tired eyes, betrayed by a rather brassy tone. "Tamerlane explores themes of pride and independence, as well as loss and exile..."
A cold stare cut straight through her. Even in the summer's heat, Clara shivered under her mother's gaze. It was clear the ice she tip-toed upon was thinning. She may have her own opinions on matters about her family's affairs, but Clara knew better than to voice them aloud. Flippantly, even. The rest of their ride to Tombstone remained silent. Clara desperately wished she could continue reading her book.
.
.
Mother was first to leave the coach with the helping hand of her son, Thomas. Who arrived a few months before them to get ready for the new family home. When he finished attending to Mama, Thomas offered to help Clara. She thanked her brother for the same courtesy. Accepting his hand, she stepped out to greet her new home. Desert heat made for misery. That is all she saw in it. For in Clara's mind, Tombstone would have no trouble proving to be backward in contrast to her tastes.
