When the Earps reached the Grand Hotel, they asked the hotel manager if Davies was up in his room. He nodded, saying, “Room 22.” The Earps then made their way up the stairs, guns in hands, and the hotel manager attempted to follow them up. “No, no, no,” said Virgil. “This is official police business. You stay downstairs and keep everyone calm and away from us.” The hotel manager looked sad and dejected but did what he was told.
It was Wyatt who pounded on the door.
“Yes?” came the familiar voice from inside.
“Open this goddamn door, Davies.”
There was a pause, and then the door was unlocked and opened. Davies looked at them, smiling a big, toothy smile.
“You better stop smiling,” said Wyatt. “Or else I’m liable to knock all those pretty teeth down your goddamn throat.”
Davies’ smile
