"Same thing."

"You are one of the most interesting men I have ever met, Doc," said Roosevelt.

"Clearly your circle of acquaintances is too small."

Roosevelt chuckled at that. "Well, maybe one of these days I'll return to public life and make it larger."

"If you're too young to run for president, and I suspect you are by a decade, then perhaps you'll stay out here and run for governor, because if Geronimo keeps his word, we're going to need one."

"He'll keep it," said Roosevelt with certainty. "He's an honorable man."

"I've always found him so," agreed Holliday, "but never forget that he's an honorable man who's responsible for twenty times as many deaths as Hardin."

"He's a warrior, protecting his people," responded Roosevelt. "Hardin is just a killer, like..."

"Like me?"

"I was going to say like Billy the Kid."

"A nice young man, in his way," said Holliday.

"But you killed him."

"You don't have to hate what you kill," answered Holliday. "Johnny Ringo-or what was left of him, or what he'd become, or however you want to say it-was the most educated and interesting man I've met out here until you came along. But sometimes liking someone isn't enough."

"What was it about them that you liked?" asked Roosevelt. "As far as everyone knows, they were cold-blooded killers."

"Well, the Kid was," agreed Doc. "But Ringo only became a killer when he was drinking, so I guess you'd call him a hot-blooded killer. Anyway, I could discuss Chaucer and Descartes and Cicero with Ringo, and I've never been able to do that with anyone else out here."

"You never brought them up with me," said Roosevelt.

"If you stay, we'd get around to it. We've had more pressing business. Anyway, Ringo was a fascinating man to talk to when he was sober."

"And the Kid?"

Holliday shrugged. "He reminded me of someone."

"Oh? Who?"

A smile. "Me."

"So if Hardin actually shows up, you'll probably like him too," suggested Roosevelt.

"Probably," agreed Holliday. "And he'll probably like me too. But it won't stop one of us from killing the other."

Holliday took another drink from the bottle.

"Well," said Roosevelt, "I think I'd better be taking these weapons back to Tom and Ned, and saying my good-byes. I figure I'll spend the night in the Grand, and set out right after sunrise."

He extended his hand and Holliday took it.

"I'm glad we met," said Roosevelt.

"It's been a privilege to know you," replied Holliday.

"And now I'll be able to correct all the dime-novel writers and artists," added Roosevelt with a grin.

"Heads up, Doc!" said Hairlip Smith.

Holliday looked across the saloon at him.

"I think your company just arrived," said Smith, pointing out the window.

Holliday turned and looked into the street, where a tall, lean man, dressed all in black, was dismounting. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, a sword with an umbrella handle attached to the left side of his belt, and a well-used pistol tucked into his belt. He wore a broad-brimmed black hat that had a thin headband with a couple of feathers hanging down from it. A bunch of fringe, taken from some dead Union soldier's dress uniform, was sewn onto his right shoulder and arm.

"That's him, all right," said Holliday. He turned to Roosevelt. "Theodore, he doesn't want you. Go over there with your Rough Riders."

"But-"

"d.a.m.n it, Theodore!" snapped Holliday. "You can't beat him, and I'm going to be too busy protecting myself to worry about you too."

Roosevelt seemed about to object again, thought better of it, got up, and walked over to sit at a table with Mickelson, Sloan, and the others.

An instant later, John Wesley Hardin walked through the swinging doors, looked around the tavern, and walked over to stand in front of Holliday.

"It has to be you," he said.

"Have a seat, John Wesley," said Holliday. "Bartender, a gla.s.s for my guest."

Hardin sat down and glared at him. "You can't weigh much more than a hundred, a hundred and ten pounds," he said. "How the h.e.l.l did you kill all those men?"

"Force of personality," said Holliday with a smile. The gla.s.s arrived, he filled it, and placed it in front of Hardin.

"They say you're a lunger, too."

"True enough," replied Holliday. "They say you're a lawyer."

"I am now."

"Then you know that the law tends to frown on murder."

"This isn't murder," said Hardin. "You can go for your gun whenever you want."

"Perhaps later," said Holliday, taking another swig from the bottle. "Tell me about Texas. Has it changed much since I had to leave it in a hurry?"

"Cows and dust, same as ever." Suddenly Hardin grinned. "I heard about why you left Dallas."

"Well," said Holliday, returning his smile, "the sheriff was running me out of town in the morning anyway for practicing a vigorous brand of self-defense."

"I wasn't talking about that. It was the teeth."

Holliday's smile became even broader. "He gave me twelve hours to get out of town. But then that night he had an abscessed tooth, and I was the only dentist he knew, so he hunted me up to have me pull it." Holliday chuckled. "I put him under with laughing gas, pulled every tooth in his G.o.dd.a.m.ned head, and decided to leave town without waiting for the stagecoach."

Hardin threw back his head and laughed. "d.a.m.n! I knew we could be friends if we ever met!"

"No reason why not," agreed Holliday.

Suddenly Hardin's smile vanished. "Except that I got to kill you."

"No, you don't."

"That was the deal. This huge critter, I guess he was an Indian but he sure as h.e.l.l wasn't like any I ever saw, tore the brick wall right out of my cell and set me free, but the deal was that he'd only do it if I promised to kill you."

"You don't owe him anything," said Holliday. "He's dead."

Hardin frowned. "Are you kidding me, Doc?"

"Ask anyone here," said Holliday. "See the guy in the store-bought buckskins and the spectacles? He killed him."

"Really?"

"Really," said Holliday, pulling a pack of cards out of a pocket. "So drink up and let's play a little serious blackjack."

Hardin stared at Roosevelt for another few seconds.

"Him?" he said disbelievingly.

"Him," replied Holliday.

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!"

"Probably we both will be," agreed Holliday.

Hardin downed his drink. "Deal," he said.

NICE LITTLE TOWN," remarked Hardin after they'd been playing for about twenty minutes and had pretty much broken even.

"Used to be even nicer, before the silver mines played out," replied Holliday. "I think it lost better than half its population in the last thirty months."

"Too bad. As famous as you and the Earps made it, you kinda hate to see it die."

"As long as people will pay good money to see the corral where the fight wasn't, it'll stay alive."

Hardin frowned. "Where it wasn't?"

"It's easier to call it the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral than the Gunfight in the Alley Backing Up to the O.K. Corral," said Holliday.

"A telling point," agreed Hardin. "Still, it's a shame. I could have settled down here and gone to work."

"That's right," said Holliday. "With your law degree."

Hardin smiled. "Can you picture that, Doc-me defending killers?"

"Why not?" replied Holliday. "If you got your degree, you know the law, and I don't think anyone would deny that you know shootists."

Hardin laughed at that. "You've got a h.e.l.l of a sense of humor, Doc. Why do you look so d.a.m.ned grouchy?"

"I resent dying."

"I ain't going to kill you."

"I'm dying just the same."

"The consumption?"

Holliday nodded. "I'll be heading back to Colorado in the next few days to die."

"Colorado makes dying more pleasant, does it?"

"The sanitarium I plan to check into does," answered Holliday.

"Is this sanitarium in Denver?"

Holliday shook his head. "Leadville."

"Well, maybe we'll become almost-neighbors," said Hardin. "Got to be a lot of lawbreaking going on in Denver. Place like that must need a good lawyer who knows all there is to know about lawbreaking."

"Especially if there aren't any warrants out for you in Colorado."

"Never been to Colorado," answered Hardin. "And after living in h.e.l.lholes all over the Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona Territories, it might be nice to step outside at night and feel the need of a coat."

"Leadville was a hundred four degrees when I left it," said Holliday with a rueful smile.

"Surely it's not like that all the time."

"No, it's not," admitted Holliday. "I have a hard time breathing that thin mountain air, but h.e.l.l, these days I have a hard time breathing any air."

"Cool mountain air," mused Hardin. "It's worth considering, anyway."

"I'd be happy to have you ride along with me."

Hardin paused, considering the offer. "It's tempting, Doc," he said at last. "d.a.m.ned tempting."

"But?" said Holliday. "Sounds for sure like you've got a 'but' coming at the end of that sentence."

"I got a couple of men who have offered to set me up with a law office back in El Paso." He grinned. "Might even hire me one of those dance-hall girls as a secretary. I'll get up to Colorado one of these days, but as long as there's money waiting for me in El Paso..."

"I'd do the same thing if I were you," said Holliday. "And if I ever need a lawyer, I'll know where to go."