his orders.”
Holliday shook his head. “You don't even know where they are. Or if they're in one place.”
“I think Geronimo can tell me,” said Roosevelt. “After all, he's the single most powerful of them. And he has no desire to die, or so he says, so why wouldn't he tell me?”
“And if they're spread out in forty or fifty villages?”
“Then we'll hunt them down and kill them one at a time.”
“Before War Bonnet can kill you?” said Holliday dubiously.
“If they're in fifty villages, then he's only got one chance in fifty of guessing right,” replied Roosevelt. “You're a gambler, Doc. Wouldn't you bet those odds?”
“And if they're in one place?”
“Then we'll have to kill them all before he can kill me.”
“I don't know…” began Holliday.
“The alternative is to sit here until he walks through those swinging doors looking for me,” said Roosevelt.
“He wouldn't fit.”
“All the more reason to do something before he tears the place apart trying to get to me.”
“Well, when do we leave?” asked Holliday.
“We?” said Roosevelt, arching an eyebrow.
“You're going to be recruiting all the worst gamblers,” replied Holliday with a smile. “No sense hanging around here with nothing but men who know how to count.”
Roosevelt threw back his head and laughed. “Damn, I knew I liked you, Doc Holliday!”
“It's my shy and gentle manner, no doubt,” said Holliday, taking yet another drink.
“Well, I suppose we'd better devise some tests.”
“Tests?”
“For our potential Rough Riders,” explained Roosevelt. “How well can they shoot? Can they ride a horse that's bucking in panic? If it comes to close fighting, how are they with fists and knives?”
“First, they're your Rough Riders, not ours,” complained Holliday. “And second, what you're describing is a rodeo, except for the fist-fighting part.” He paused and stared at Roosevelt. “Theodore, there's an easier way to look at it.”
“Oh?”
Holliday nodded his head. “Just consider this: any man who walks in here wearing a gun is undefeated.”
Roosevelt's eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”
“This isn't like one of Bat's boxing matches back East,” said Holliday. “We play for keeps out here. When you lose, you're dead. There are no rematches.”
“You're right, of course,” said Roosevelt. “But even if they're all undefeated, they aren't all of equal value.”
“No, they're not. But if they rode on the Vendetta Ride, it means Wyatt and I vouch for them.”
“If they survived that and they're willing to ride against the medicine men with me, that should be all the qualifications they need,” agreed Roosevelt.
Holliday looked up at the swinging doors. “Here's one. Care to meet him?”
“Of course!”
Holliday signaled to the short, burly man who had just entered. He turned and began approaching the table, and Roosevelt saw there was something wrong with his upper lip.
“Charlie, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Theodore Roosevelt,” said Holliday without getting up. “Theodore, say hello to Hairlip Charlie Smith.”
Smith offered his hand to Roosevelt, who rose to his feet. “It ain't a real hairlip,” he explained. “I got shot in the lip in a gunfight back in Abilene ten, twelve years ago.”
“Have a seat, Charlie,” said Roosevelt. “Doc's been telling me about you.”
“Nothing good, I imagine,” said Smith with a smile. “Doc's just pissed because that teenaged chippie went off with me instead of him last time he lived here.” He turned to Doc. “We both know Kate would have killed you if you'd taken her home with you.”
“There are a lot of rooms in town,” replied Holliday easily. “And hard as it may be for you to believe, I was saying favorable things about you.”
Smith chuckled. “Maybe so, but I ain't loaning you no money.”
“Mr. Smith…” began Roosevelt.
“Charlie,” Smith corrected him. “Or Hairlip, if you want.”
“Charlie, I am about to embark on an exciting enterprise, and I'd like your help. Doc's told me about your heroism during Wyatt Earp's Vendetta Ride. I have something similar on tap.”
“What's the job pay?” asked Smith.
“Not a single penny,” said Roosevelt. “What we're going to do, we're doing because it's the right thing.”
“I dunno,” said Smith. “Whenever someone talks about doing the right thing, some other folks usually wind up getting themselves shot all to pieces.”
“What if I told you that Geronimo has decided to lift the spell that's kept the United States bottled up east of the Mississippi?”
Smith frowned. “You want to kill him for that? I thought that's what everyone back East wanted.”
“I want it too,” said Roosevelt. “We all do.” He paused. “Well, almost all of us. But there's a group of medicine men