Pastor Endicott positioned them both in front, and Nevada captured Christy’s warm hand in his own, pressing it to his side. His heart soared at the love he saw reflected in her eyes. So much to be thankful for—so much to live for, encompassed in this woman who stood next to him.
The service floated by, and Nevada prayed he’d given the correct responses, but he couldn’t have sworn to it. Christy’s presence and the fact she’d soon be his wife had him more addled than he’d thought possible.
“Mr. King?” The pastor reached out and touched his arm. “Sir?”
Heat rushed up Nevada’s neck as he realized he’d missed whatever he’d been asked. “Yes. What am I supposed to say next?”
“Nothing. Just kiss your bride.” A chuckle rippled through the dozen people sitting in the sanctuary, and then a hush fell over the building as Nevada bent to Christy’s upraised face. Their lips met and the kiss lengthened. He placed his hands on her waist and drew her closer, wanting this moment to go on forever.
An elbow caught him in the ribs, and the familiar voice of his best man brought him out of his trance. “You got the rest of your life to do that, son. Let the lady come up for air.”
Laughter broke the solemn moment, and a smattering of applause erupted as the pastor faced the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman, I give you Mr. and Mrs. James King.”
Nevada let out an exultant whoop. He turned to sweep Christy off her feet and into his arms, swinging her around before planting her back on the floor. He kept a firm grip around her waist and grinned. “Mrs. King, I’ve waited my whole life to hear those words. Now let’s go share our happiness with our friends, then head to the bridal suite at the Grand Hotel.”
Author’s Note
In April of 2010 my husband, Allen, and I traveled to Tombstone and spent four days completing historical and local research, along with gaining a feel for the topography of the land, plant life, and buildings. We stayed at the Sagebrush Inn—a small motel built in the 1940s and remodeled a few years ago, a popular lodging place for John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara while shooting movies in the Tombstone area. We had the privilege of staying in John Wayne’s favorite room.
While Christy and Nevada’s story is purely fiction, there are many elements that are true. Doctor Goodfellow, Pastor Endicott Peabody, Marshal Ben Sippy, Doc Holliday, Buckskin Frank Leslie, the Earp brothers, Nellie Cashman, and Big Nose Kate, who dated Doc Holliday, along with all of the businesses depicted, were real and shown as accurately as possible based on my research. The statement made by Doctor Goodfellow when Christy came into his office the first time—“I just finished with a surgery. Bullet wound. Had to dig so deep I felt like I was performing assessment work. Rich in lead but too punctured to hold whiskey”—was close to a direct quote he made after patching up a bullet wound.
Tombstone’s post office was established December 2, 1878, and has yet to be discontinued. And, of course, the most famous gunfight in Western history occurred at the OK Corral, October 26, 1881, when the Earps shot it out with the Clantons and the McLaurys. Boot Hill cemetery is still in existence and well cared for. The vast majority of people resting there were taken by the black horse-drawn hearse mentioned in the story.
Consumption, or tuberculosis as it’s known now, ran rampant in Tombstone, especially among the women in the red-light district. They often ended up contracting pneumonia, and many died young. Some of these girls were young teenagers, and many were dragged unwillingly into the life by circumstances beyond their control. Death of family members, destitution, and even being sold into prostitution were common reasons many women found themselves working the gambling hells of this era, even as they do today. A few women saw the profession as a lucrative way to make money and escape the poverty of their past, but the majority rarely had options.
As I depicted, Nellie Cashman, the owner of the Russ House, was called “The Angel of Tombstone” by many a miner and local resident. She did indeed minister to the downtrodden, the poor, the ladies in the red-light district, and even criminals condemned to die by hanging. Details about her Irish ancestry, her appearance, and the description of the outside of the Russ House are accurate, although the building was being remodeled when we visited and I wasn’t able to see past the lobby through the open front door.
The story about the stagecoach holdup where Christy gets shot in the arm is based on a real event. A young woman shot during a Wells Fargo coach robbery was bleeding badly and insisted one of the outlaws assist her. He took her aside but couldn’t see as his mask kept slipping. When she agreed to keep his identity a secret, he removed the mask, bound up her arm, and the stage eventually went on its way. The outlaws got away with a shipment of Wells Fargo gold meant for the payroll at the mines. During repeated questioning by the town marshal, the young lady continued to refuse to reveal the outlaw’s identity.
A Wells Fargo agent was dispatched by the company and pretended to fall in love with the woman, going so far as to propose marriage in hopes of obtaining the identity of the outlaw. He suggested there should be no secrets between a man and his intended, and insisted she divulge what the outlaw looked like who’d helped her. She firmly refused and broke her engagement. It was later disclosed he’d played a role in hopes of obtaining the information. From the historical account I read, she kept her secret the rest of her life.
Other episodes, such as the one with the city slicker whose hat was kicked down the street and returned to him with more than enough money to purchase another, were common occurrences in Tombstone during this time period. Also, the menu choices shown at the Russ House were from an actual menu used during 1881.
The fire in the latter part of the book occurred on June 22, 1881, and burned a large section of the business district, including the Oriental Saloon, as depicted. Water was scarce during that time period, as no underground lines had yet been run from the mountains. Barrels of water were transported into town by wagon at a high price per gallon, but not in quantities large enough to fight a fire of this magnitude.
The fire resulted from a mishap with a barrel of bad whiskey. At the Arcade Saloon (in the same block as the Oriental Saloon) the owner wanted to measure the amount left in a barrel so he could return it to the vendor. Upon doing so, he accidently dropped the measuring gauge into the barrel. He made the mistake of holding a lit cigar while trying to remove the gauge from the barrel. The cigar ignited the gas, creating an explosion, and spread burning alcohol everywhere. The Golden Eagle, later renamed the Crystal Palace, right across the side street survived, as did a few of the other landmarks in town. The Crystal Palace is still in business today and looks much the same as when it was rebuilt.
It took about two weeks for the townspeople to rebuild most of the business district, bringing lumber from a mill at the base of the nearby mountains. Then, in May of the following year, Tombstone got hit by another devastating fire, and much of the town once again burned (including the Grand Hotel), but was soon rebuilt. Until a water line was brought in from the mountains a couple of years later, the people were helpless to fight fires.
We visited one of the original mines and discovered many of the old tunnels still honeycomb the ground beneath the town. A fire in 1886 destroyed the pumps removing the water from deep in the mines and operation ceased. Mining reopened in 1901, but boiler problems and serious flooding once again closed them. Silver prices dropped substantially when the gold standard was set in place, and the remaining silver in the shafts was abandoned.
The Bird Cage Theater began construction shortly after the first fire and is still standing to this day with many of its original furnishings. One of the mining tunnels can be accessed from a room in that building.
In 1929 the county seat moved to Bisbee. Tombstone’s future was uncertain, but a group of determined citizens coined the phrase “the town too tough to die” and invited the public to come help them celebrate the town’s past. Tombstone has continued to hold onto life over the decades, catering to tourists with
an insatiable appetite for a glimpse into the old West.
Walking the preserved streets of old Tombstone and riding in one of the stagecoaches provided for tourists gave me a small idea of what it must have been like in the wild mining heyday of the early 1880s. I hope this book has brought you pleasure and provided you with a glimpse into a colorful part of our nation’s past.
I’d love to hear from you, if you’d care to drop me a line. Or visit my website to see pictures from our Tombstone visit at www.MiraleeFerrell.com.
About the Author
MIRALEE FERRELL grew up in a small town and married Allen, her high school sweetheart. They raised two children who both serve the Lord. After they left home, she prayed about filling her time. In 2005 she received the answer. While at church the pastor prayed with her, stating he believed God was calling her to write and be published. After praying, she embarked on a new adventure. Two years later her debut novel, The Other Daughter, released, and since then four more novels have followed.
Miralee serves as president of the Portland, Oregon, chapter of ACFW. She speaks at women’s groups, libraries, and churches.
Miralee and her husband have been married for thirty-eight years. They live on eleven acres in Washington State, where they love to garden, play with their dogs, and go sailing. Miralee also rides her horse on the trails near their home with her daughter who lives nearby.
www.MiraleeFerrell.com
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Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
IN THE 1870s ED SCHIEFFELIN SPENT A GOOD DEAL OF TIME PICKING up rocks in Arizona Territory while serving as part of a scouting expedition aimed against the Chiricahua Apaches. On a number of occasions the soldiers told him that if he stayed after they departed, the only stone he’d find would be his own tombstone. When Schieffelin finally discovered silver in 1879, he remembered those words and named his first mine The Tombstone.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapt
er Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Want a peek into local American life—past and present? The Love Finds You™ series published by Summerside Press features real towns and combines travel, romance, and faith in one irresistible package!
Chapter 37
Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona Page 25