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 hell 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 hell.”
“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.”
“Damn!” 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.”
“I thought it was just a flash in the pan when it came to Denver,” said Holliday, “but then it spread to Leadville, and damned near every town between there and here.” He shook his head. “Doesn't make any sense, a bunch of people paying to watch other people trying to hit a ball with a stick.”
“I prefer prizefighting myself,” said Roosevelt.
“Is this John L. Sullivan all he's cracked up to be?” asked Holliday. “We've heard about him all the way out here.”
“He's a drunkard and a braggart, but he's as good as they say,” replied Roosevelt. “I wish I was about thirty pounds heavier. I'd like to take him on myself.”
“And Bat would write the story,” said Holliday.
“And the obituary,” added Masterson. “I've seen the great John L. Best athlete around, now that Hindoo's retired.”
“Hindoo?” asked Holliday.
“Best racehorse in American history,” said Masterson. “He'd run down the backstretch at Belmont Park and the trees would sway.”
“Really?”
Masterson smiled. “Well, they would if there were any trees there.”
“You really don't miss being a lawman at all, do you?” asked Holliday.
“It cost me a brother, got me shot at pretty regularly for seven years, and kept me broke all the time,” answered Masterson. “What do you think?”
“Well, I'm glad you're finally happy.”
“I hope I still am after tomorrow,” said Masterson without smiling.
“Of course you will be,” said Roosevelt. “He sent for us.”
“He sent for you,” replied Masterson. “He and I are not each other's favorite people.”
“You're staying in town,” Roosevelt reminded him.
“Tell him, Doc,” said Masterson. “He could appear right next to you right now if he wanted to.”
“From what I understand, once he and Theodore make their deal, whatever it is, we're all in a lot more danger from every Indian who isn't an Apache,” said Holliday.
“I take very little comfort in that,” said Masterson.
“Once we leave for Geronimo's lodge, go over to Tom Edison's place,” suggested Holliday. “You'll be safer there than anywhere else.”
“I almost forgot!” said Roosevelt so loudly that he startled a couple of men at the next table. “I want to meet the fabulous Thomas Edison before we leave town. Do you think he's available right now?”
“He'll be in his office, which doubles as his lab,” affirmed Holliday.
“Then what are we wasting our time here for?” demanded Roosevelt, getting to his feet.
“Just a second,” said Holliday. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, scribbled Doc on the bottle, and carried it over to the bar, where he handed it to the bartender.
“I don't suppose Wyatt Earp's in town?” asked Roosevelt as they walked out into the street.
“Not for a couple of years,” answered Holliday.
“How far are we from the O.K. Corral?”
“A four- or five-minute walk,” said Holliday. “At least, at the speed I walk at.”
“Let's stop there on the way to Edison's,” said Roosevelt.
“Any particular reason?” asked Holliday.
“You've no idea how famous it is, even in New York. I'd hate to be in Tombstone even for a day and miss the chance to see it.”
“Or Edison,” said Holliday. “Or probably Buntline, too.” He paused. “Is there anything you're not enthused about?”
“Ignorance,” answered Roosevelt. “Now, which way is