It was high noon and a gentle breeze blew from the west to mask the heat beating down on the wooden walkways and dust-laden street. As a stranger approached, the armed citizen readied himself with his six-shooter and before the dust settled around his boots, the stranger lay wounded on the well-worn planks beneath him. He didn’t have a chance. On this day in the streets of Tombstone, it’s every man for himself, and the citizen was doing what any man would do: protect his family to maintain the peace and keep the bandits away.
There was a shootout in the streets of Tombstone that day. A prolific duel maintaining order in a town notorious for its inhabitants? Not so much. The stranger, an actor in full regalia, who upon sight of the two pint-sized keepers of the piece sporting (cap) guns — one pink, mind you — dropped to the floor with a realistically sounding thud (not once, but twice, to allow each a shot) and may have lost the battle, but he won my kids’ hearts. They have each retold the day’s battle in recounting their trip to the town famous for its Western boomtown history. The brief few minutes of interaction will undeniable be ingrained in their memory.