He’d stand at his second floor window and gaze to the west
Above the wooden false fronts and newly mortared brick and stone buildings on the opposite side of the street
Across the valley to the Red Mountain
And the evergreens would remind him of his boyhood in Georgia
He’d always preferred the fresh scent of pine to the heavy fragrance of magnolia
At the end, his bed was against a wall opposite the window
And he would lay on what passed for a mattress and watch the snow-filled clouds pass over the great red slope
The interplay of light and shadow gave him comfort
And he thought himself fortunate to die in such a lovely place
He spoke of a girl he’d known before he was sent to Philadelphia to take up dentistry
His beautiful cousin
And wondered if she still ministered to the poor and sick
Or taught children that would never be her own
He fought back tears for his mother after so many years
And spoke his long-dead brother’s name
He woke from dreams of Kate, and Wyatt, but his only regular visitor was the kid who worked at the hotel
The kid who brought him whisky, and laudanum
In his delirium, he was back in the Arizona heat
Trying to stop his finger from pulling the shotgun’s trigger
As Tom McLaury screamed, “No!”
His heart beat a little quicker at the thought that he’d soon be able to apologize
He asked the kid about the boneyard here in Glenwood Springs
Did it have a name?
“Don’t know,” the kid replied, and left to find out
He returned later with a fresh bottle and said, “Linwood”
“Hmm,” Doc mused. “It ends in Linwood”
I deal myself another hand, the morning sunlight fades
King of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, dog-eared trey of spades
True companions all, they are, my life’s only friends
The Queen withholds her judgment, the Jack seeks no amends
Rye whisky burns like hellfire, dulls the deeper pain
Mad dogs need to feel the flame, or their spirit starts to wane
I traveled down a twisted trail that ends in this cheap room
What went before is dust and rage, what lies ahead is gloom
Thoughts of Kansas swirl around
As I lay here in this mountain town
Soon they’ll lay my body down in Linwood
Ten cent novel’s out of reach, dropped down to the floor
It says that I killed 40 men and shot as many more
Somewhere some kid’s reading these tall tales of gun and knife
I pray he never has the chance to take another’s life
I traveled to these mountains in hopes of hanging on
But time now has no meaning, anticipation’s gone
So I try to conjure places, let my memory travel time
Familiar, long gone faces, and a church bell’s distant chime
Ban this devil from my soul
Maybe death will make me whole
They’ll lay me in a six-foot hole in Linwood
My boots sit on the rough hewn floor
My pistol hangs behind the door
I guess they’ll even up the score in Linwood
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Jon Chandler Lyrics – Linwood