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"I thought it was just a flash in the pan when it came to Denver," said Holliday, "but then it spread to Leadville, and d.a.m.ned near every town between there and here." He shook his head. "Doesn't make any sense, a bunch of people paying to watch other people trying to hit a ball with a stick."
"I prefer prizefighting myself," said Roosevelt.
"Is this John L. Sullivan all he's cracked up to be?" asked Holliday. "We've heard about him all the way out here."
"He's a drunkard and a braggart, but he's as good as they say," replied Roosevelt. "I wish I was about thirty pounds heavier. I'd like to take him on myself."
"And Bat would write the story," said Holliday.
"And the obituary," added Masterson. "I've seen the great John L. Best athlete around, now that Hindoo's retired."
"Hindoo?" asked Holliday.
"Best racehorse in American history," said Masterson. "He'd run down the backstretch at Belmont Park and the trees would sway."
"Really?"
Masterson smiled. "Well, they would if there were any trees there."
"You really don't miss being a lawman at all, do you?" asked Holliday.
"It cost me a brother, got me shot at pretty regularly for seven years, and kept me broke all the time," answered Masterson. "What do you think?"
"Well, I'm glad you're finally happy."
"I hope I still am after tomorrow," said Masterson without smiling.
"Of course you will be," said Roosevelt. "He sent for us."
"He sent for you," replied Masterson. "He and I are not each other's favorite people."
"You're staying in town," Roosevelt reminded him.
"Tell him, Doc," said Masterson. "He could appear right next to you right now if he wanted to."
"From what I understand, once he and Theodore make their deal, whatever it is, we're all in a lot more danger from every Indian who isn't an Apache," said Holliday.
"I take very little comfort in that," said Masterson.
"Once we leave for Geronimo's lodge, go over to Tom Edison's place," suggested Holliday. "You'll be safer there than anywhere else."
"I almost forgot!" said Roosevelt so loudly that he startled a couple of men at the next table. "I want to meet the fabulous Thomas Edison before we leave town. Do you think he's available right now?"
"He'll be in his office, which doubles as his lab," affirmed Holliday.
"Then what are we wasting our time here for?" demanded Roosevelt, getting to his feet.
"Just a second," said Holliday. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, scribbled Doc on the bottle, and carried it over to the bar, where he handed it to the bartender.
"I don't suppose Wyatt Earp's in town?" asked Roosevelt as they walked out into the street.
"Not for a couple of years," answered Holliday.
"How far are we from the O.K. Corral?"
"A four- or five-minute walk," said Holliday. "At least, at the speed I walk at."
"Let's stop there on the way to Edison's," said Roosevelt.
"Any particular reason?" asked Holliday.
"You've no idea how famous it is, even in New York. I'd hate to be in Tombstone even for a day and miss the chance to see it."
"Or Edison," said Holliday. "Or probably Buntline, too." He paused. "Is there anything you're not enthused about?"
"Ignorance," answered Roosevelt. "Now, which way is the Corral?"
THEY TRUDGED ACROSS THE FLAT, barren, featureless desert, where even the snakes and scorpions waited until dark to come out.
"Let's stop for a rest," said Holliday, reining his horse in.
"It's got to be a hundred and twenty degrees, Doc," said Roosevelt. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can find some shade."
"I'm a sick man, Theodore," said Holliday. "Either I climb down for a few minutes now, or I fall off in the next mile."
"All right," said Roosevelt. He pointed at a shaded outcrop a few hundred yards away. "But let's stop there, so we can enjoy what little shade there is."
Holliday nodded and steered his horse toward the outcrop, dismounting and immediately sitting down on the ground with his back against a tree. Roosevelt considered hobbling the horses, decided they were too hot to run off, then squatted down, stood up, and repeated the process half a dozen times.
"What the h.e.l.l's wrong with you?" asked Holliday, frowning.
"Nothing," replied Roosevelt. "But I didn't get my running in this morning, and a man's got to keep fit."
"Just surviving in this heat ought to be enough," said Holliday, pulling out a flask and taking a drink.
Roosevelt shook his head. "A fit mind and a sloppy body are no better than a fit body and a sloppy mind."
Holliday stared at him for a long moment. "I'm surprised you didn't run here from the Badlands."
"If we weren't operating on such a tight schedule, I might have run part of it," admitted Roosevelt with a grin. "How long a rest do you think you'll need?"
Holliday shrugged. "I don't know. Until I feel stronger. Why?"
"Well, I thought if it would be more than ten or fifteen minutes, I'd pull a book out of my saddlebag and read a chapter or two."
"d.a.m.n!" said Holliday, shaking his head in wonderment. "You are the most remarkable young man I've ever met."
"Surely you're not going to tell me you never read," said Roosevelt. "Bat told me you minored in cla.s.sical literature."
"I did," agreed Holliday. "But I know better than to take a book along when it's a million degrees and we're on our way to visit Geronimo in his own lodge."
"Are you expecting trouble?" asked Roosevelt curiously. "After all, he wants to see me."
"He's seeing you in the one place he feels protected," noted Holliday. "Remember, he told me that the other medicine men aren't ready to lift the spell yet. They don't figure to be too thrilled with this meeting."
"They don't know who I am or what I'm doing here."
"d.a.m.n it, Theodore, they're medicine men. They can hold an entire nation on one side of the Mississippi when it wants to expand. Believe me, they know what you're here for."
"Tell me about them," said Roosevelt, taking a sip of water from his canteen. "What can they do besides keeping most of us-not all, I must point out-east of the river?"
"You ever hear of Johnny Ringo?"
"Yes," said Roosevelt. "I think he was killed about four or five years ago in Texas."
"He was," agreed Holliday. "The first time."
Roosevelt frowned. "The first time?"
Holliday nodded. "A medicine man named Hook Nose brought him back from the dead, bullet holes and all, and sent him to kill Tom Edison."
"He obviously didn't succeed."
"Tom had an equalizer."
"You?" asked Roosevelt.
Holliday smiled. "He invented the equalizer. I fired it."
"I'm glad I hit it off with him and Ned last night," said Roosevelt. "I have a feeling we may need his help."
"That's what he's here for," said Holliday. "The government sent him West to study the medicine men and try to invent something to counter their magic."
"He's turned Tombstone into a more futuristic town than Manhattan," noted Roosevelt. "Has he had any luck with the medicine men?"
"Minimal," answered Holliday. "Little bits here and there, against Hook Nose and others. But he hasn't been able to lift the spell. Hopefully Geronimo will do it for him."
"Geronimo's the most powerful of them?"
"He'd better be, because he's going to have fifty or sixty of them opposing him." Suddenly Holliday smiled. "And you."
"And us," Roosevelt corrected him.
"Not me. I'm just an onlooker."
"Sure," said Roosevelt with his characteristic grin. "That's why you contacted me and why you're riding across the desert to Geronimo's lodge."
"Circ.u.mstance," said Holliday.
"We'll see," said Roosevelt.
"A month from now I'll be checking into a sanitarium in Colorado, and living out what remains of my life as comfortably as possible," said Holliday.
"I don't think so," said Roosevelt.
"Why the h.e.l.l not?" demanded Holliday pugnaciously.
"Because exceptional men are few and far between. You happen to be one, John Henry Holliday. You are capable of remarkable feats, some of them distasteful, all of them exceptional-and it's my observation that Fate usually has plans for exceptional men."
Holliday pulled out a fresh handkerchief and coughed into it. It came away b.l.o.o.d.y. "Fate's played enough tricks on me already," he said, pocketing the handkerchief. "All I want it to do is leave me alone." He paused. "All I ever wanted to be was a dentist and a loving husband. I didn't plan to be a shootist, or spend most of my adult life living with a hard-drinking madam. I could tell five minutes after I met you that you want to be something special, that you revel in your exceptionalism." A bitter smile. "Not all of us do, Theodore. You want to be a mayor or a governor? More power to you. I just want to lie in a bed and have a little less trouble breathing."
"I hope you get your wish, Doc, truly I do," said Roosevelt.
"But?" said Holliday. "Sure sounds like there's a 'but' in there somewhere."
"But you and I are riding to meet the most powerful medicine man on the continent. If we don't make a deal, America's stuck on the other side of the Mississippi for G.o.d knows how many years and decades, or even centuries. And if we do make a deal, you a.s.sure me that every other medicine man will be out to kill us." An amused smile crossed his face. "I just don't see how that leads to a bed in a sanitarium. An earlier grave than you antic.i.p.ate, perhaps-but not one near a sanitarium in the Rockies."
Holliday took another swallow from his flask. "I wish you didn't sound so G.o.dd.a.m.ned sensible," he growled, and Roosevelt chuckled.
"Have we rested long enough?" asked the younger man.
Holliday grimaced and got to his feet. "I'm tireder now than when we sat down. Might as well try to rest on the horse."
They mounted up and began heading south again, Roosevelt identifying every bird, insect, and snake they saw by their scientific names. "When this is all over," he said, "I've love to come back and collect some specimens for the Smithsonian and the American museum."
"They're just birds and flies, and the occasional rattler," replied Holliday in bored tones. "Wouldn't be the most exciting hunt you've ever been on."
"I'm not looking for excitement," said Roosevelt. "I've hunted grizzlies for that, and someday I hope to go to Africa after really big game. But many of these species aren't in the museums back East, and the ones that are have been carelessly mounted."
"That's right. Bat said you were a taxidermist too."
"I dabble in it."
Holliday smiled. "No false modesty. He said you were considered one of the country's top ornithologists and taxidermists while you were still in your teens."
"He's being too generous," said Roosevelt.
"Probably," agreed Holliday, and was pleased to see a little tightening of Roosevelt's expression when he agreed with him.
"Have you ever been to the Smithsonian?" asked Roosevelt. "I'm told you didn't grow up all that far from it."
"I grew up in Georgia," replied Holliday, "and we were fighting a war with the people who ran the Smithsonian."
"Not by the time you got to college."
Holliday shrugged. "I was busy learning to be a dentist, and then I was busy coughing on all my patients, so I moved West where the air was dryer." He snorted. "You can see how much it helped."
"It helped get rid of a lot of desperados," remarked Roosevelt.