"I don't recall ever saying no to one," replied Holliday.

Edison walked to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle and two gla.s.ses. "I'll be interested to try this out," he said, handing a gla.s.s to Holliday and filling both. "Ned picked it up the last time he took the Bunt Line to St. Louis."

Holliday took a sip. "It's better than the horse p.i.s.s they're serving at the Oriental, I'll give it that."

Edison smiled. "I'll tell him you said so."

"He's not around?"

"Oh, he's in town," answered Edison. "He's repairing one of the metal harlots at what used to be Kate's establishment."

"I'm surprised he's not fixing them all the time, given the use they get."

"They're not in as much demand as they were when we created them three years ago and the population was three or four times larger," said Edison. "On the other hand, they're machines, and they're three years old, and it's natural that some of them break down."

Holliday brought his b.l.o.o.d.y handkerchief to his mouth and coughed. "I know all about things breaking down," he said sardonically.

"No better?"

Holliday shook his head. "I thought I was just a month or two away from entering the sanitarium when Geronimo broke me out of jail."

"Jail?" repeated Edison, surprised.

"It's a long story," said Holliday, "but the usual one. The only good thing about it is that sometimes stupidity is genetically self-limiting. Anyway, he got me out, and that's why I'm here. In law offices and other criminal enterprises, they call it a quid pro quo."

"And he really wants to lift the spell that's kept the country confined to the other side of the Mississippi?" asked Edison.

"I don't know if he wants to," said Holliday. "But he's a realist. The United States gets bigger and stronger every day. I know the Indians' magic is pretty powerful, but how long can they hold us east of the river? It had to be a lot easier back in Washington's time, or even Andy Jackson's...but how many millions do we total today?" He took another sip of his drink. "We've got numbers, we have firepower"-he paused and smiled at Edison-"and we have you."

"Me?" said Edison, surprised.

"Don't be modest. You're our greatest genius. That's why they sent you out here-to find the weak spots in the medicine men's magic."

"And I haven't accomplished a thing," said Edison.

"You haven't accomplished what you wanted to accomplish," agreed Holliday. "But you've weakened them. You helped cause a rift between the two most powerful medicine men, Geronimo and Hook Nose, and now Hook Nose is dead. I think that's another reason Geronimo's ready to deal. The other Indians blame him for Hook Nose's death."

"He did kill him," noted Edison. "We were there."

"Did they ever have a falling-out before you were sent out West?"

"How would I know?"

"Take a guess," said Holliday.

"No," admitted Edison. "Not an important one."

"That's why you've got an artificial arm. They knew early on that you were the catalyst. That's why they got Curly Bill Brocius to take that shot at you. You were just d.a.m.ned lucky he was liquored up and couldn't see straight."

"Let's not talk about it. It makes it very difficult not to hold a grudge against Geronimo."

"He's an honorable man," said Holliday. "And there ain't too many of them in any race."

"So when is young Mr. Roosevelt due here?" asked Edison, changing the subject.

Holliday shrugged. "Four, maybe five days." He smiled. "If it was me, and I had to ride horseback, it'd be a lot closer to a month."

"So what do we do when he gets here?" continued Edison. "Take him to Geronimo's camp? I mean, we can't have Geronimo walking or riding into Tombstone."

"We don't do anything," answered Holliday. "Geronimo never mentioned you. I imagine Roosevelt wants to meet the great Tom Edison. The only person Geronimo wants to meet is Roosevelt. I don't even know if he'll let Bat come along." A grim smile. "I don't know if Bat'll want to, either. You know what happened to him last time he rode out with me to Geronimo's camp."

"So I just sit by and do nothing?" asked Edison. "If that's the case, and the spell's going to be lifted, I suppose Ned and I might as well close up shop and go back East."

Holliday shook his head. "Oh, I think your services are going to be needed-and soon."

"But if he's lifting the spell..." said Edison, frowning.

"He's making peace with Roosevelt," said Holliday. "But while he speaks for the Apaches, he's not the king of all the Indians, and Roosevelt's not the president of the United States. There are lots of Indians who don't want to lift the spell, and that includes every medicine man and shaman on this side of the Mississippi except Geronimo."

"So you're saying that there may actually be a war coming..."

"Right," said Holliday. "With Geronimo and Roosevelt on one side, and every other Indian on the other."

"Where do you fit in, Doc?" asked Edison.

"Me? I'm just a dying man who's putting two interested parties together."

"Rubbish. For one thing, you're the best shootist alive."

"Well, alive and free," amended Holliday. "Don't forget John Wesley Hardin."

"Is he still incarcerated in some Texas jail?" asked Edison.

"Last I heard."

"Anyway, you're not the type to sit on the sidelines."

"I may be so sick I'll have to lie down on the sidelines," replied Holliday.

"I hope you're joking."

"I hope so too," said Holliday. "But if I were a betting man..."

"Enough," said Edison. "For a dying man, you're as indestructible as any man I've ever met."

"Good," said Holliday. "Then I'll be around to see what you bring to the battle."

"Me? But Geronimo doesn't even want to see me."

"He'll want to see what you can produce."

"What makes you think I'll produce anything?" asked Edison irritably.

"Because if we're to have a country that extends to the Pacific, I have a feeling Geronimo and Roosevelt are going to need all the help they can get." Holliday smiled at Edison. "And that means you."

HOLLIDAY WAS SITTING AT A TABLE in the Oriental when Masterson entered the saloon, followed by his companion.

"d.a.m.n, but you made good time!" said Holliday, surprised to see them. He got to his feet. "You must be Theodore Roosevelt."

Roosevelt extended a hand. "I've been anxious to meet you," he said. "I've heard and read a lot about you."

"Most of it lies, I'm sure," said Holliday, taking his hand. "I've heard a bit about you myself."

"From Democrats?" said Roosevelt with a grin. "All of it lies."

Roosevelt released Holliday's hand, and Holliday immediately began trying to shake some life back into it. "That's quite a grip you've got there," he said. "Shake my hand three or four more times and I'll have to learn to shoot left-handed."

Roosevelt laughed heartily. "I like you already!" he said. "But of course I knew I would."

"You have an affinity for dentists?" said Holliday sardonically.

"Not that I'm aware of. I hope you have one for politicians. Well, former politicians."

"The only good politician is a former one," said Holliday. "Or a dead one."

"I wish I could offer more than a token disagreement," said Roosevelt. He looked around the interior of the Oriental, then pulled a chair over and sat down, and Holliday and Masterson followed suit.

"Any problems along the way?" asked Holliday, offering his bottle to Roosevelt, who shook his head, and to Masterson, who took a swallow.

"Nothing to speak of," replied Masterson. "A couple of highwaymen tried to hold us up on our way through the New Mexico Territory." Suddenly he grinned. "The world is changing."

"What happened?"

"Young Mr. Roosevelt got the drop on them with his rifle-they must have figured anyone wearing spectacles is blind, because they weren't paying him any attention-so he disarmed them, offered to go a few rounds of fisticuffs with them, beat the c.r.a.p out of them, then patched them up and treated them to dinner." Masterson chuckled at the memory. "Now I know how he wins the voters over. Those two volunteered to ride shotgun for us as we pa.s.sed through Southern Cheyenne country, and swore their eternal friendship when we parted." He shook is head in wonderment. "It's not like riding with Wyatt, let me tell you."

Holliday laughed. He expected Roosevelt to look uncomfortable, but the Easterner simply looked pleased with the result of the story.

"Too bad Johnny Behan's not sheriff anymore. I'd love to see you run against him."

"I'm through running for office, for a little while yet," answered Roosevelt. "I'm here to see Goyathlay."

"You know his real name?" asked Holliday, surprised.

"Once I knew I was coming out here, I made sure I packed a couple of books about the Apaches. I don't know how good his English is, so I thought I'd better learn to speak his language."

"Must be recent books," remarked Holliday. "He's only been the boss since Victorio died."

"But he's been one of the leaders for twenty years now," said Roosevelt. "An admirable man, from all I've learned."

"He's responsible for the death of thousands of white men," said Masterson.

"He killed them while protecting his people," responded Roosevelt. He turned to Holliday. "You've spent time with him. What's your opinion?"

"He's an honorable man," said Holliday. "On those occasions that he's a man at all."

"I don't understand."

Holliday smiled. "You will." He paused. "You really speak Apache?"

"I'm not sure of the p.r.o.nunciations," answered Roosevelt, "but I'm pretty sure I can understand it if it's spoken to me."

"Geronimo will like that," said Holliday. "He's not some ignorant savage, and he resents being treated like one."

"When do we meet him?" asked Roosevelt.

"Tomorrow we'll ride down to his lodge," answered Holliday. "I'm sure he knows you're here."

"I'll stay here," said Masterson.

Roosevelt turned to him. "Why?" he asked curiously.

"Bat had an unpleasant experience the last time he paid a visit to Geronimo," said Holliday with an amused smile.

"Stop grinning!" snapped Masterson. "There was nothing funny about it!"

"It sure as h.e.l.l wasn't funny while it was happening," agreed Holliday.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," complained Roosevelt.

"Bat killed one of his warriors, and Geronimo, who speaks enough English to know what a bat is, turned him into a huge one every night from sunset to sunrise." Suddenly Holliday smiled again. "So if you've got a nickname like Bull or Hawkeye, I'd suggest you keep it to yourself."

"It wasn't funny," growled Masterson. "It was a living h.e.l.l."

"Clearly it ended," said Roosevelt. "You kept me awake half of each night with your snoring."

"I did a service for Geronimo and he lifted the curse," said Holliday.

"Ah!" said Roosevelt with a smile. "A quid pro quo."

"d.a.m.n!" said Holliday happily. "Latin! I knew I was going to like you. Have a drink!"

"No offense, but I want to keep a clear head until this business is over. The results are too important."

"Fair enough," said Holliday. "You got a room yet?"

"Yes, we took out a pair of rooms at the Grand Hotel," said Roosevelt.

"Yeah, we took a quick tour of the town-well, what's left of it-before we came over here," added Masterson. "I see you've got a baseball diamond outside town."