The Old Colts (24 page)

Some will sneer, I suppose, that this served me right. Others will whisper that it was neither fate nor a feline, but Bat and Wyatt, jealous of their legend, reaching out of the mists to larrup me over the head with gunbarrels, lug me away, see me tried for slander and sentenced to life in a calaboose of shame and futility. In any case, I am inconsolable. What a calamitous, cat-shit conclusion!

“The greatest consolation I have in growing old is the hope that after I’m gone they’ll grant me the peaceful obscurity I haven’t been able to get in life.”

William Jerome’s poetic farewell to his friend
 

in the
Morning Telegraph.

Goodbye, Bat.

They never heard you blat

About the things you did out West—

You wasn’t built like that.

That great big golden heart of yours,

It wouldn’t harm a cat.

Sweet as a “gal,” so long old pal,

Goodbye, Bat.

Bat Masterson & Wyatt Earp

Dodge City, Kansas, 1876.