had studied the Apache language, most of the words were unfamiliar to him.
Then, suddenly, a naked warrior with bright red skin, perhaps two feet high, stood on the ground between them. Roosevelt leaned forward and studied him. His red face was almost that of a skeleton's, but it was somehow capable of expression, and right now it was frowning and glowering. His arms were as long as an ape's, and ended not in hands or paws, but in flames.
“What is it?”
“The man Edison would call it a test model,” answered Geronimo. “It is a creation of my rivals and your enemies. It has a name, but you cannot pronounce it. The closest approximation is War Bonnet.”
“And this is what the other tribes are sending against us?” asked Roosevelt.
“That is correct.”
“I could smash his head with my pistol right now,” offered Holliday. “Or put a bullet through it.”
“This is not War Bonnet,” said Geronimo, “but merely what he will look like.”
Roosevelt reached out for the image, and his hand passed right through it. “If that's the worst they can do, I don't think we've got much to worry about,” he said.
“As I said, it is only a model. This is what the true War Bonnet will look like when they are done with him.” Geronimo muttered another chant, and suddenly the image of War Bonnet began growing taller and broader, the flames that were his hands become longer and brighter, his skeleton's face grew more fearsome, and when he finally reached his full height the top of his head towered some twelve feet above the ground.
“Interesting,” commented Roosevelt.
“He is not just a giant, but will have powers even I cannot guess at,” added Geronimo.
“He's a couple of feet taller than the biggest grizzly I've ever seen.”
“And mighty few grizzlies can reach out and set you on fire,” added Holliday.
“Will he be able to shoot those flames like arrows?” asked Roosevelt.
“Almost certainly,” answered Geronimo.
“And he'll have other powers too?”
Geronimo nodded. “Many.” He paused. “I will make him vanish now.”
“No,” said Roosevelt, pulling a notebook out of a pocket. “I'm not much of an artist, but let me sketch him so I can show Tom what we're up against.”
“Tom?” repeated the Apache.
“Edison.”
“The White Eyes have too many names,” declared Geronimo.
“His whole name is Thomas Alva Edison,” said Holliday with a smile.
“You are sure?”
“As sure as my name's John Henry Holliday.”
Geronimo snorted but made no reply.
“Okay, I'm done,” said Roosevelt a moment later, putting the notebook away. Geronimo made a gesture and the image of War Bonnet vanished.
“I've got a question, if I may,” said Holliday.
Geronimo turned to him. “Ask.”
“You're the most powerful medicine man of them all. Why can't you just magic War Bonnet away, send him back to whatever hell they pulled him out of?”
“His magic is too strong for that—or it will be, once he truly exists,” answered Geronimo. “They know better than to create a creature that I can scatter on the winds.”
“Let me make sure I understand our agreement,” said Roosevelt. “You lift the spell, and I agree to fight War Bonnet with help from Edison or anyone else I can enlist?” He paused, frowning. “We have an army. Why don't I just send for it?”
“Your army cannot cross the river, for I cannot lift the spell with all of the other medicine men arrayed against me,” answered Geronimo. “First they must be defeated. Only then can I lift the spell.”
“Not much of a bargain,” commented Holliday. “Especially since you admit that sooner or later we're going to spread across the river anyway. Did I hear that right?”
“You heard it right,” confirmed Geronimo.
“You didn't ask him the operative question, Doc,” said Roosevelt.
“What question was that?” asked Holliday.
Roosevelt turned to Geronimo. “If the spell isn't lifted, when will we freely cross the river and settle the land to the Pacific Ocean?”
Geronimo opened both hands, extended his fingers, then closed them and repeated the process seven more times.
“Eighty years,” said Roosevelt. “Almost everyone who is alive today, even newborn infants, will be dead by then.” He grimaced. “That's why I have to do this, Doc. It is our manifest destiny to reach from one coast to the other. I can't make an entire nation wait for more than three-quarters of a century because I find the task daunting.” He reached his hand out. “Goyathlay, we have a deal.”
Geronimo took his hand. “It is not written that you shall succeed,” he said grimly. “Only that you are the best of them.”
“Doc and