"How comforting," said Holliday, but even as the words left his mouth he realized he was speaking to an empty room.

HOLLIDAY APPROACHED EDISON'S HOUSE. Long before he reached the door, it swung open and Edison's voice welcomed him in. He entered, walked into the living room, and waited for Edison to come out of his lab and greet him.

"How are you, Doc?"

"I've been better," replied Holliday. A wry smile. "Of course, that was a long time ago."

"What can I do for you?" asked Edison.

"Plenty. But before we start talking, call Ned in here. No sense repeating it all to him."

Edison frowned, but went back to his lab and summoned Buntline on the primitive communication system he'd installed between the two houses. Buntline entered the living room a moment later, chewing on a sandwich and carrying a beer.

"Hi, Doc," he said. "Can I get you anything?"

"Plenty," said Holliday. "But not to eat."

"Have a seat, Ned," said Edison. "I think Doc's got something important to tell us."

"Important to me, anyway," said Holliday.

Both men sat at opposite ends of a couch and stared at him expectantly.

"I've just had a visit from Geronimo," began Holliday.

"What did he want?"

"He wants me to face War Bonnet."

"What?" shouted Buntline. "He'd better make up his d.a.m.ned mind about who this creature is being created to kill."

"Nothing's changed," said Holliday. "War Bonnet has been or is being created for the sole purpose of killing Roosevelt and Geronimo."

"Then I don't understand," growled Buntline.

"I think I'm beginning to," said Edison, leaning forward.

"Good!" said Buntline. "Then one of you two can explain it to me."

"Let me take a guess," said Edison.

"Go right ahead," replied Holliday.

"He wants you to face War Bonnet because War Bonnet was not created with you in mind. At the most extreme, and this probably isn't the case, he is immune only to Theodore's bullets and blows, and Geronimo's spells, and at the same time, he is deadly only in combat against Theodore or Geronimo." He paused and looked at Holliday. "Am I close?"

"You're close. He doesn't guarantee that anyone is safe facing War Bonnet, but he's sure that I'll be safer than him or Roosevelt."

"It's possible," agreed Edison.

"I still cut and I still bleed," said Holliday. "How the h.e.l.l safe can I be?"

"Is Geronimo protecting you with some kind of spell?" asked Buntline.

"He didn't say so," responded Holliday. "Besides, I have to think if there's one thing his spells are useless against, it's War Bonnet."

"So...you're off to face War Bonnet, and you want...what?" asked Buntline. "Weapons? Protection?"

"Maybe a train back East," replied Holliday with a wry smile.

"I'm being serious, Doc," said Buntline. "Have you made up your mind to face him?"

"Geronimo's made up his mind," said Holliday. "I suppose it comes to the same thing."

"Where is he?"

"Geronimo?"

Buntline shook his head. "No, War Bonnet?"

"Who the h.e.l.l knows? I a.s.sume Geronimo will be more than happy to direct me." He sighed deeply. "I'd like to survive it. I'm not afraid to die-in fact, I've been busy doing it for years-but I hate to do it at the hand of a monster that isn't even interested in me."

"We'll do what we can to protect you," said Edison. "Is there anything new you can tell us, anything you can add to what we already know?"

"Or think we know," added Buntline, finally finishing his sandwich.

"Not much," said Holliday. "It's all guesswork. All Geronimo knows is that War Bonnet can kill him and Roosevelt for sure, but he can only kill the rest of the world maybe."

"Well, let's put our heads together, figure out what won't work, and concentrate on what's left," said Edison.

Holliday frowned. "I don't follow you."

"War Bonnet was made to face Geronimo and Theodore, right?" said Edison. "So, if he's the threat Geronimo thinks he is, and he's a magical being, he must be immune to anything those two can throw at him."

"Of course, being immune to magic is academic," said Buntline. "But it makes sense that he's immune to that rifle Theodore favors."

"In fact, War Bonnet could be immune to all bullets and sh.e.l.ls," said Edison. "I know Theodore doesn't have much confidence in his six-gun, he's said as much to me, but the medicine men don't know that, and could a.s.sume he'll come with pistols blazing."

"Which brings up an interesting question," said Buntline. "Is he immune to all bullets, or just those fired by Roosevelt?"

"It's a possibility," replied Edison. "But not one Doc will want to bet his life on."

"So what weapons can we provide that neither Theodore nor Geronimo will ever use?" said Buntline.

"Well, there's acid, of course," said Edison. "But what if he swipes at it with his hand? If it's made of flame, it may not have any substance at all. Acid might go through it like water. If there is some substance, he still may not feel any pain, and could spill it all over Doc."

"We can attach it to an arrow and have Doc fire it from a safe distance," replied Buntline.

Holliday shook his head. "Won't work. I haven't had the strength to pull a bow back far enough to shoot an arrow home since I was a teenager."

The two older men fell silent for a moment, and then Buntline looked up. "I've got it!" he exclaimed.

"What?" asked Holliday.

"Nitroglycerin!" said Buntline, excited. "We'll blow that son of a b.i.t.c.h all the way back to wherever he came from." Edison seemed to be considering it, and Buntline continued: "Tom, is there a way to coat Doc's bullets with it so they explode when they hit War Bonnet?"

Edison shook his head. "Coat his bullets and they'll explode inside his gun when he pulls the trigger."

"d.a.m.n!" said Buntline. "I thought I had something there."

"Maybe you do," replied Edison. "But it requires Doc to control where they meet." He turned to Holliday. "If you can choose the site, we can salt it with nitro containers so you can shoot them from a safe distance, hopefully when War Bonnet is standing right next to them."

"I've seen nitro kill men who took a bad step while they were carrying it to the mines outside Leadville," replied Holliday. "How the h.e.l.l do I get it to wherever I'm going, riding a horse over rough terrain?"

"I can give you the const.i.tuent parts, and you will mix it carefully-very carefully-once you get to where you're going," answered Edison.

"I don't know," said Holliday dubiously. "If this War Bonnet is magical..."

"Didn't Geronimo say he was created to face only Roosevelt and Geronimo?" said Buntline. "It's possible that he's immune to anything they can use against him, but that you can use the very same things successfully."

"All right," conceded Holliday. "I don't know why I'm worried about dying fast. But just in case this doesn't work, I'd like some alternatives."

"How much time have we got?" asked Edison.

"Until Geronimo tells me that War Bonnet is here."

"We'll spend the rest of the day and night coming up with possible weapons," continued Edison, "but it's also essential that we give you some defenses."

"I suppose I could accept that."

"I can make you some incredibly strong armor, something that'll resist anything even a thirty-foot-tall giant has to offer," said Buntline. "But I doubt that you'd be able to lift it, let alone walk a step in it."

"You'd be surprised how much I can't lift," said Holliday dryly.

"I just thought of another potential weakness we'll have to address," said Buntline.

"Oh?"

Buntline nodded. "I a.s.sume you're not going to meet him at the O.K. Corral."

"A fair a.s.sumption," said Holliday, wondering what Buntline was getting at.

"So you'll meet him out in the desert."

"I'd a.s.sume so."

"So you ride twenty miles out of town to meet him, and he finds that either for reasons having to do with the conditions of his creation, or the defenses we've supplied you with, he can't hurt you. He hits you with all his might, and you don't feel it. He stabs you with a knife, and the blade never breaks the skin."

"I like it already," said Holliday.

"You won't," Buntline a.s.sured him.

"Okay, why not?"

"Because he kills your horse, empties your canteen, and goes back to wherever he came from. Doc, you can't walk a mile on a cool day with all the water in the world. How are you going to walk twenty miles back to town across a hot desert with nothing to drink?"

"Well, I liked it until then," replied Holliday.

"So," concluded Buntline, "it's not enough that we arm and protect you. We're going to have to protect your horse."

"Maybe he's not bright enough to think of that," said Holliday.

"Maybe he isn't," agreed Buntline. "But do you want to bet your life on it?"

"I don't want to seem ungrateful," said Holliday, "but n.o.body knows anything! Geronimo doesn't know, Roosevelt doesn't know, and you don't know-and I've been elected to face this thing and see how fast he can kill his enemies. I'm headed off to the Oriental for a drink."

"I can understand your frustration," said Edison.

"I doubt it," replied Holliday irritably as he got up and walked to the door. "You don't have to see how fast War Bonnet can kill you so Roosevelt and Geronimo can prepare for him."

"All right," said Edison, electing not to argue with him. "If we come up with something tonight, I'll send word to the Oriental, and if you're not there, we'll leave a message at the Grand's desk. Otherwise, come by tomorrow at noon and we'll go over what we've come up with."

"And if Geronimo calls me sooner?" said Holliday.

"Then stop by on your way out of town and we'll give you what we have."

Holliday seemed about to say something, thought better of it, and walked out into the street. He saw a jackrabbit lingering near the corner and stared at it.

"If I thought you were anything but what you look like, I'd blow your d.a.m.ned head off," he said, and turned and walked to the Oriental.

He'd calmed down by the time he arrived, short of breath and coughing more blood. Henry Wiggins was there and waved him over to his table.

"Hi, Doc," he said. "You're here early, aren't you?"

"Don't you start on me, Henry," growled Holliday.

"Me?" asked Wiggins, surprised. "What did I say?"

Holliday sighed deeply. "Nothing, Henry. It's just been that kind of a day." He signaled for his bottle. "Tomorrow will probably be even worse."

The bartender showed up with the bottle and a gla.s.s, and Holliday promptly filled it to the top.

"By the way, I like your friend Roosevelt," offered Wiggins.

"Most people do," said Holliday. "That's his job."

"His job?" repeated Wiggins.

"Making people like him. He's a politician."