CHAPTER 6
Almost two weeks passed since our return from Battles Gap. I tried to put the tragedy out of my mind, but I was plagued with nightmares. The image of Sarah Bledsoe lying dead on that blood-soaked table with a gaping hole in her neck was especially horrifying for me. It still is as I write this.
In keeping with the law, I had to give a statement to Bat Masterson, who was still sheriff of Ford County. There would be a coroner's inquest and a hearing before a judge. Mr. Hawes had sent a telegram to my mother, and she responded that she would take the train to Dodge City in about a week.
"No need to worry," Bat had told me. "Wyatt and Bill will vouch for you, and you have two reputable witnesses who will explain what happened."
None of that helped me deal with the specters that w
