“Appears to me like he just did some killin’.” said the tall, strapping man with the dark, reddish blond hair and bushy moustache who came around from behind Neilson. He was dressed in a dark suit, with a badge pinned to his vest. Virgil, thought Neilson. He recognized him from photographs he’d seen. It was Virgil Earp, eldest of the three “fighting Earp” brothers.
“It was killin’ that needed to be done,” Leslie replied. “The kid did the right thing.”
“I’ll say, he did.” said the gambler, getting up from the table “The kid just saved my bacon.”
“Is that so?” said Virgil. “What happened?”
Neilson stared as the good-looking gambler with the neatly trimmed black moustache came toward him. “Cowboy over there called me a cheat and threw down on me. The other one got the drop on Frank. And me without my guns.”
Those boys meant business, Virgil.” Leslie added. “I would have been shot dead, if it wasn’t for this here Montana kid.”
“I owe you a debt of gratith. cle,” the gambler said. “I’d like to shake your hand and stand you to a drink. The name’s Bat Masterson.”
Feeling rather numb. Neilson shook his hand.
“What’s your name, Montana kid?” asked Virgil.
“Neilson.” Scott replied instinctively, not thinking to give an alias. “Scott Neilson.”
“I like Montana Kid.” said Masterson, with an easy, charming smile. “Drinks all around, Frank. And a bottle for me and the Kid, here. Virgil, you’ll join us, won’t you?”
Virgil Earp looked Neilson over. “Well, if Frank and Bat vouch it was a necessary shooting, then I guess that’s okay with me. But I’ll need to take your gun. Kid, just the same. Those boys were part of Clanton’s bunch. Mean customers. You’re lucky you came out of it okay.”
“Hell, luck had nothin’ to do with it,” said Leslie, pouring the drinks “You should’ve seen it. Virgil. The Kid’s greased lightnin’ with a gun.”
“You don’t say.” said Virgil.
“Shot ’em both right through the heart, dead center!” said one of the other men around them. “Fastest draw lever seen in all my born days! If you’d a blinked your eye, you would’ve missed it!”
The others in the bar quickly agreed with this assessment.
“Sounds right impressive,” Virgil said.
“Impressive doesn’t do it justice,” responded Leslie.
“Is he really that fast, Frank?” Virgil said, with some surprise, apparently expecting. exaggeration from the others, but not Win Frank Leslie.
“I wouldn’t have a prayer against him, that’s for damn sure.” Leslie said. “And here I thought he was some green kid, fresh off the wagon. Shoot! I’ll bet he could beat Wyatt.”
“Faster than Wyatt?” said Virgil, raising his eyebrows.
“God’s my witness.” Leslie replied. “You put him up against Wild Bill. I’d give you even money and it would be a coin toss.”
“Hell, Frank, I never heard of anyone as fast as Hickok.” Virgil said.
“You’re lookin’ right at him.” Leslie replied, flatly.
“Was he really that fast, Bat’?” Virgil asked.
“Well, to tell you the truth, I didn’t see it.” Masterson replied. “but I heard both shots come so close together. I would have sworn they had been fired from different guns.”
Virgil looked at Neilson with new respect. ‘Where did you learn to shoot like that, Kid?”
Neilson was still slightly overwhelmed. His hesitance and confusion were taken as modest embarrassment. He simply shrugged and said, “Practice.”
The bodies were still lying on the floor. No one made a move to do anything about them. The d
oor swung open and two more men came in. both with pistols drawn. One man was tall and slim, with dark blond hair and blue eyes. He had a flowing handlebar moustache that curled up at the ends and, like Virgil, he was dressed in a black suit. He also wore a badge. The family resemblance was strong and unmistakable. The other man was pale, thin and slightly built, perhaps a hundred and twenty pounds, with sandy hair, sharp features, a moustache and intense. slate-gray, spectral-looking eyes.