novels for years, and that's what they think we wear.”
Roosevelt approached the table.
“Theodore, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine.”
Wiggins got to his feet and extended his hand. “Henry Wiggins.”
“Theodore Roosevelt,” replied Roosevelt. He turned to Holliday, “Mind if I sit down?”
“Of course not,” said Holliday, and Roosevelt and Wiggins both seated themselves. “How'd it go?”
“He was about as useful as Tom and Ned,” answered Roosevelt grimly. “It's all guesswork until it happens, at which point it may very well be too late.”
“You think he's holding anything back?”
Roosevelt shook his head. “Hell, he sent for me. Why would he do that and then conceal information or lie to me?”
“I can't help but notice you're being vague,” said Wiggins. “I can leave if you wish.”
“No, stay here, Henry,” said Roosevelt. “I'm all through being vague. The subject is closed, and we can talk about anything you wish.”
“Doc tells me you're from back East,” said Wiggins. “How far east?”
“About as far as possible,” replied Roosevelt with a smile. “New York City.”
“It is as big as they say?”
“In terms of area, no. You could fit a few dozen New York Cities into the Territory here and never notice any land was missing. But in terms of population, it's crowded east to west, north to south, and top to bottom.”
Wiggins frowned. “Top to bottom?” he repeated.
“The island of Manhattan is only maybe twelve or thirteen miles long and a couple of miles across,” said Roosevelt. “So when they ran out of room on the ground, they started building up. They've got buildings that are seven and eight stories high.”
“And people live in them?” asked Wiggins.
Roosevelt nodded his head.
“What do you do there? Work in some store?”
“Right at the moment, I don't do anything there. I live on a ranch in the Dakota Badlands.”
“I thought—”
“I did live in New York State until a few months ago,” said Roosevelt. “I had a job with the government.”
Holliday chuckled. “I love the way you describe it.” He turned to Wiggins. “He was one of the three or four men who ran the damned state.”
“It doesn't matter,” said Roosevelt with a shrug. “It's history.”
“Survive the next month or two and I have a feeling you'll make your share of history,” said Holliday. Suddenly he was seized by a coughing fit. “Of course,” he continued, taking a bloody handkerchief from his mouth, “I won't be around to see it or read about it.”
“Maybe you'd better consider going back to Denver,” suggested Roosevelt.
“Leadville,” Holliday corrected him. “And I plan to do just that in a day or two.”
“Good,” said Roosevelt, nodding his approval.
“I hate to leave you without any help.”
“I've got Tom and Ned,” answered Roosevelt.
“I meant frontline help.”
“I've got Bat.”
Holliday shook his head. “What Geronimo did to him the last time he was out here in Tombstone isn't exactly a secret. You can bet some other medicine man will remember it.”
“It's not Bat's battle anyway,” said Roosevelt.
Holliday was about to reply when there was a commotion at the bar. Finally a tall, deeply tanned man walked over to the table and stood in front of Roosevelt.
“You can settle a bet for us, Four-Eyes,” he said. “I say you're a dandy from back East, and my friends say that no, you just stole that outfit from some other dandy.”
Roosevelt got to his feet. “I have a name,” he said. “And it's Theodore, not Four-Eyes.”
“It's Four-Eyes to me, you Eastern creampuff,” said the man.
Roosevelt took off his glasses, folded them, and handed them to Wiggins. Then he swung a roundhouse right that knocked the man sprawling. “How may eyes do you see now?”
The man went for his gun, but Holliday was faster, and was pointing his own pistol between the man's eyes before he could pull his gun out of his holster.
“Take it out, real gently,” said Holliday, “and hand it to me. You can have it back after the bloodletting's over.”
The man glared at Holliday, slowly removed his gun, and handed it to Holliday, butt first.
“Good luck,” said Holliday. “And may God have mercy on your soul.”
The man got to his feet and charged at the smaller Roosevelt, who ducked under his outstretched arms and delivered two quick blows to the stomach. The man growled a curse, spun around, and raced at Roosevelt again. This time he got a broken nose for his efforts.
The one-sided fight went on for another five minutes. Roosevelt offered to end it three different times, but the man, his face a bloody mess, refused.