Earp

to make me

to make me Wyatt Earp, I may as well do it up right.”

Lowering the radio, Mike’s face was ashen. “Oh, Christ. We’ve been suckered.”
Frank Jackson, Harry Lefferts and Alex Mackay were gathered around him. Frank turned his head and glared at the Spanish prisoners being herded into a makeshift “prison camp.” The camp was nothing more than a large stretch of farmland below the Wartburg’s hill. The prisoners were held in place not by fences but by the crude expedient of guns pointing directly at them. Even the guns did not surround them completely. The area to the west of the prisoners was bare and open. But the three catapults were standing by, ready to lob hellfire into their midst in case of any trouble.
“All this?” Frank demanded. His voice