Authentic Tales of the West: Part 8

A Sad Day in Dodge City

Arnold Ashford’s Journal Entry #8

Jack Holloway was a murderer. He had been a murderer for some time before he ever came to Dodge City. The stories say that he stole away his Pappy’s horse when he was only 12 years old, and took his first life just two years later. By the time he rode into Dodge City he must’ve been in his late twenties. I’ve never seen someone look at a horse with such appreciation (almost tenderness) and not a moment hence fix a man with a glare of such malice.

Alice knew he was the killin’ sort and knew he wouldn’t stop short of anything including a man’s life if it came between him and the horse he’d picked. George was dead before he ever walked out of his door. As soon as that shot rang out, I saw the regret in Alice’s eyes; she knew Hoss would kill, and she’d waited.

Her hesitation cost George his horse and his life. She pulled her revolver before the echo of that shot had stopped ringing in my ears and shot Hoss squarely in the shoulder. Her shot spun him around; he fired off a wild shot that somehow caught Alice right in the gut. She went down immediately, fallen backwards and holding her stomach with both hands, watching her life slowly bleed away right through her fingers.

Sweet Alice Sweetwater

Every man in Town would be willing to give his life for the beautiful Sweetwater.

Hoss winced as he hopped up into the saddle of George’s beautiful mare, and quickly rode out of town, his left arm drooping at his side like a scarf in the wind. The whole town rushed to Sweet Alice lying there in the dirt that was turning into mud from her own life’s blood. There was nothing that could be done; she was gone.

— Check back next Monday for a new entry in Ashford’s journal —