By the time the wispy gray gun smoke cleared on that chilly, October afternoon, three men lay dying and three more were wounded on a street in Tombstone. Only Wyatt Earp stood amongst the fallen, unscathed, a cocked Smith & Wesson still planted firmly in his hand. Ike Clanton's fleet footprints pointed squarely away from the heat of the battle, as if heel-fly time had come to call all over again.B. A. Braxton digs deep with years of painstaking research...