From the Grigsby Archives

February 25, 1882

DEAR BOB,

How are you, you old bastard?

We been busy here in El Paso. We had a killing here night before last, one of the local hookers. Susie Morris, maybe you remember her, the redhead with the big honkers worked at Sadies place. Come to think, I believe you had her once yourself—that time you was here to pick up Sid Carver & we spent all of Saturday night & most of Sunday at Sadie’s? I never drunk so much rotgut whiskey or dipped my wick so many times ever in my life. Its a wonder the two of us are still alive. Anyway, Susie isnt, shes dead as a doornail.

I never seen anything like it before. I still get sick just thinking about it, & you know how I got a pretty strong stomach. He used a knife on her, whoever it was did it. Doc Amundson figures on account of the blood that he cut her throat first & thats what killed her, but then its like he went crazy. He took a knife to her innards, filleted her like a catfish, & tossed everything out onto the ground. All her parts, I mean. Well, not all of them, because according to Doc, he walked off with her privates. Just cut them out & maybe stuck them in his pocket & sashayed out of there. This was in the alley around the corner from Sadie’s place, by Buchanon’s livery stable.

Did you ever hear of such a thing?

We dont got no idea at all who done it. Probably it was some hopped-up Mexican from across the river, which means well never get him. Makes me madder than hell that some loco bastard could do that to poor Susie & get away with it. I been in this law & order business too long, maybe.

Your friend Doc Holliday is in town this week, gambling over to the Longbranch. I had me a talk with him, warned him I didnt want no trouble, & he just nodded & looked right through me with them funny black eyes of his. He is one spooky son of a bitch, Bob. I wont be sorry to see him leave, Ill tell you.

We had another famous visitor this week, that English poetry fellow, Oscar Wilde. Maybe you heard of him. He gave a lecture on art at Hammersmiths. I didnt go myself, but Connie did, & she says he was smart as a whip. I met him at the Mayor’s house & he looks like a pansy-boy to me, if you want the truth. He acts like one too, very lah di dah. But hes sure a big one—must be six foot four or five. I reckon pansy-boys can come in just about any size, though.

Well, time for me to mosey on. You take care of yourself. When are you heading down this way again? You let me & Connie know & well fix up the spare room. (Ill let Sadie know too, so she can warn the girls!) Are you writing to Clara these days? If you are, you send her our love & tell her from me & Connie that we hope the two of you can work things out & get yourselves back together. Youre too old & ornery to be on your own.

Sincerely,

Earl