"Doc" Holliday's Visit
It was a Bad Bet
The thunder of my pistol still rings in the quiet of this valley. That day in the dirt, I saw the life go out of men while I stayed stuck between breaths. The powder smoke never truly cleared; it followed me here, clinging to these very streets. Come walk where the echoes of that iron heat still burn.
Failing Lungs and Hot Fog
Waiting For End
I dragged my weary bones to Glenwood Springs, praying the mountain air and sulfur steam would mend what Tombstone broke. Instead, I found a room where the thin air tasted of copper and despair. My life ebbed away in this Hotel as I watched the Colorado snow fall through the glass. Come stand where I surrendered. Visit the home of my last gasp.
Among the Pines
The climb is steep and weary, winding through the sharp scent of cedar and spruce. High above Glenwood, I linger by my headstone in Linwood Cemetery. I watch the living pull their coats tight against the mountain chill as they stare at the name I left behind. This earth may hold my shadow, but I am always tethered to this ridge. Come stand exactly where I rest and feel the cold of my gaze.
