"Where will you go next?" he asked. "Leadville, maybe," I said. "I will decide later."
I know the attitude I exhibited had upset Signore Difranco, and I was not happy about that. He had been a true friend and benefactor, after all. But I also knew that he was behaving like a detective for my mother, who was convinced that I was going to come to no good. I needed to get loose from my mother's apron strings, and it seemed as if Signore Difranco was nothing more than an extension of them.
The next morning, Signore Difranco left for Tucson, and I met up with Charley Higgins at Smith's Corral, where I rented a horse for the day. As I was adjusting the stirrups (they were almost always too short for me), Wyatt Earp walked into the corral and began saddling his horse—a sixteen-hand-high chestnu
