The Pale Horse

Twelfth

"Crack me back of the head like some stinkin' bull! Hell, you ain't no fightin' man, you're just a goddamn cop!" Curly Bill could be heard barking at Wyatt Earp from his cell behind bars in the town jail. Doc didn't pay it any mind and neither did Wyatt. Instead, Wyatt continued to talk to Clum about the situation from the night before.

Doc leaned against the wall near the entrance of the establishment. The smoke from his cigarette was just about the most interesting thing he could focus on, just inches in front of his face as it rose further and further up toward the ceiling until it evaporated from sight. He pursed his lips around the cigarette as he began to take in another drag, his eyes closing tiredly, allowing his mind to drift back to the bay, the shore, and back to her as the smoke filled his seasoned lungs, ripe with scarred and frayed tissue.

***

Lana's words lifted into the air around Doc curiously, his senses shifting.

"I want you to stay. Tonight."

Immediately Lana made mumbles of apologies in hopes to explain further.

When was the last time he spent the night alone with a woman? It felt like a lifetime ago. He was no saint. It was in his younger days he had enjoyed female company a tad bit more than every so often. He had paid for it like the most valuable of services or goods. That was how he had become aquatinted with Kate, trying to fill a void inside of him that he had refused to acknowledge, all the while doubting its existence altogether. The women, booze, and riches never seemed to follow him very far. It wasn't something he was particularly proud of, but he would never deny it, for he was an honest man.

The innocent nature of Lana's proposal didn't remain lost on Doc for too long, his focus straying from his own thoughts to her face. It read how it usually did, a look of unsureness as she tried to read him. He was perhaps the most unreadable man in the West, maybe even the country. It was an odd fascination she had started getting accustomed to, how she knew him in such intricate ways now, yet was lost on others that could paint the bigger picture of his person. What a feat she was trying to accomplish.

"Stay?" Doc mused, his eyebrows raising with a slightly playful suggestion.

Lana nodded her head then tilted her gaze on Doc. Was he insinuating what she thought he was?

"For what in particular? Do satisfy my curiosity," he asked as if he was as clueless as the day he was born, although he knew her request hadn't been a lewd one. Even if it had been, for her, he had more honor than that. But after all, the two were left alone in the room, and he had been invited to stay the night. He just couldn't pass up any opportunity to tease Lana, lightheartedly or not. Seeing her flustered genuinely made something in him stir.

"To talk," she answered him matter-of-factly, crossing her arms and angling her gaze at Doc. Even in his hazy, half-drunken, and slightly gaunt state, he was just as graceful and aplomb as ever, just more relaxed in the present.

"What ever would you wish to talk about, Miss Pearson?" Doc continued, walking backward a few feet to sit in an armchair that sat in the hotel room, moving languidly.

Lana let her eyes roll as her cheeks began to tighten. She strained, trying to stop herself from blushing. She took a deep breath when Doc raised his hands from where they rested at his sides, signaling that he was far from serious. The grin on his face was infectious and Lana couldn't help but let out the most content laugh he had ever been blessed with hearing. He couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of him as she apologized quietly a few timws. The two then caught themselves growing quiet.