funny part,” said Holliday. “It seems that I am, and so are Tom and Ned and anyone who isn't named Roosevelt or Geronimo.”
“With size and muscles like that, he couldn't hurt you?” said an incredulous Roosevelt.
“He picked up a boulder,” replied Holliday. “Damned thing must have weighed twice what a horse and wagon together would weigh. Picked it up like a feather—until he tried to throw it at me. Then it seemed so heavy that it was about to crush him, so he turned away, and was able to throw it farther than from here to the street. He can do anything with that size and strength, as long as it doesn't involve killing anyone besides you and Geronimo.”
“What about these flaming hands of his?” asked Buntline. “Did he try to grab you with them?”
Holliday nodded. “Those flames are hot when he's thirty feet away, or twenty feet, or five feet—but the second he tries to touch me, they're as cool as the air and pass right through me.”
“Interesting,” said Edison.
Holliday turned to Roosevelt. “But they won't pass through you. They'll melt your bones inside your skin.”
“I've been studying the medicine men's magic for almost four years now,” said Edison, “and this is the first time I've heard of it being so selective, where it will work against just two people and no one else. I wonder if it's not a bluff, if he's incapable of doing anything except threatening them?”
“It's no bluff,” said Holliday. “I told you: he picked up a boulder ten strong men couldn't lift, and threw it maybe a hundred feet.”
“When I go up against him, I'd like you to come along,” said Roosevelt. “Maybe you can spot something, something that makes sense or shows a weakness, that's different from last night.”
“If I live long enough.”
“The consumption getting worse again?” asked Buntline.
“No worse than usual,” said Holliday. “But I've got another problem since last night. When he couldn't harm me, he decided to find someone who could.”
“I don't understand,” said Buntline.
“He broke John Wesley Hardin out of jail.”
“Even if that's true, why would he come after you?”
Holliday smiled. “It's a quid pro quo. Theodore can explain the term to you.”
“I know the term,” said Buntline irritably.
“Do you think he really set him free, or was it just bluster?” asked Roosevelt.
“He didn't strike me as the type who needs to bluster,” said Holliday. “After all, why does he care if I come along with you? I can't hurt him, he can't hurt me.” He frowned. “I suppose I shouldn't have taunted them.”
“Them?” said Edison.
“Four, five, I don't know how many medicine men. They control him, and they spoke to me through him. It had to be their idea to free Hardin. War Bonnet doesn't think. He just kills, or tries to.”
“Can Geronimo use that knowledge?” asked Buntline.
Roosevelt shook his head. “He knows who created War Bonnet, so it stands to reason he knows who controls him.”
Buntline sighed deeply. “You know what puzzles me more than anything else? He confronted Doc just a few miles out of town. Why the hell didn't he just come the rest of the way and try to kill Theodore?”
“I think I can answer that,” said Edison. “Doc's made it clear that the medicine men haven't just totally turned him loose, that they're controlling him. That's got to take a lot of energy, be it psychic or physical or whatever. I have a feeling that bringing him into existence for more than a few minutes drains them, and then he vanishes back to whatever limbo they store him in.”
“It's a possibility,” agreed Buntline. “So what's our next step?” He turned to Roosevelt. “Even if he's fifteen feet high, even if he's got a blow like a horse's kick, I can create armor that'll protect you from that.” He frowned. “But if he can also use magic, and those flaming hands of his make me think he can…” He sighed. “I just don't know. I can protect you against fire, of course…but eventually I can protect you against so many possibilities that you won't be able to move or breathe.” He turned to Edison. “Tom?”
“It's so hard to tell without actually seeing him first,” said Edison, frowning. “For example, I can design a weapon that will hurl an electric charge at him. We can rig a trap where he has to stand on a conductor to confront Theodore, and I can shoot enough voltage into that conductor to light the whole city—but will it