Is it morning already?…

Mr. Holliday overslept this morning. Seems he may have taken a bit too much remedy for that bothersome nagging cough.

He was, on arising, somewhat apologetic for yesterday’s outburst. He’s not sure whether his Colts were .36 or.44; so much of those days are just hazy memories. And he admits a healthy respect for Remington, and even confides in having once owned a Lemat; having heard of Jeb Stuart’s fondness for them. Nine .44 shots on the cylinder, with a shotgun round on the second barrel.

He has also provided a copy of his own favorite photograph of himself, and claims that it is from the mid ’80s, possibly taken in Leadville itself. Portraited without his customary derby; he explains that gentlemen in good standing did not wear their hats indoors. That was considered boorish, disrespectful and rude. And even though an admittedly vicious killer, he was also a prominent dentist; and fiercely loyal to his associates.

And after sharing bowls of coffee with everyone here at the Rag, has promised to take them all on the real tour of Leadville; insisting that the English queens be personally escorted in public, so as not to be mistaken for ladies of the evening. Living in a wild and lawless era is no excuse for poor manners, says Doc; Mrs. Holliday did not raise her children in a barn. The tour will commence at the civilized hour of 4 pm, with dinner at the Delaware Hotel. Proper dress is required.

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