Tom and Ned, and saying my good-byes. I figure I'll spend the night in the Grand, and set out right after sunrise.”
He extended his hand and Holliday took it.
“I'm glad we met,” said Roosevelt.
“It's been a privilege to know you,” replied Holliday.
“And now I'll be able to correct all the dime-novel writers and artists,” added Roosevelt with a grin.
“Heads up, Doc!” said Hairlip Smith.
Holliday looked across the saloon at him.
“I think your company just arrived,” said Smith, pointing out the window.
Holliday turned and looked into the street, where a tall, lean man, dressed all in black, was dismounting. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, a sword with an umbrella handle attached to the left side of his belt, and a well-used pistol tucked into his belt. He wore a broad-brimmed black hat that had a thin headband with a couple of feathers hanging down from it. A bunch of fringe, taken from some dead Union soldier's dress uniform, was sewn onto his right shoulder and arm.
“That's him, all right,” said Holliday. He turned to Roosevelt. “Theodore, he doesn't want you. Go over there with your Rough Riders.”
“But—”
“Damn it, Theodore!” snapped Holliday. “You can't beat him, and I'm going to be too busy protecting myself to worry about you too.”
Roosevelt seemed about to object again, thought better of it, got up, and walked over to sit at a table with Mickelson, Sloan, and the others.
An instant later, John Wesley Hardin walked through the swinging doors, looked around the tavern, and walked over to stand in front of Holliday.
“It has to be you,” he said.
“Have a seat, John Wesley,” said Holliday. “Bartender, a glass for my guest.”
Hardin sat down and glared at him. “You can't weigh much more than a hundred, a hundred and ten pounds,” he said. “How the hell did you kill all those men?”
“Force of personality,” said Holliday with a smile. The glass arrived, he filled it, and placed it in front of Hardin.
“They say you're a lunger, too.”
“True enough,” replied Holliday. “They say you're a lawyer.”
“I am now.”
“Then you know that the law tends to frown on murder.”
“This isn't murder,” said Hardin. “You can go for your gun whenever you want.”
“Perhaps later,” said Holliday, taking another swig from the bottle. “Tell me about Texas. Has it changed much since I had to leave it in a hurry?”
“Cows and dust, same as ever.” Suddenly Hardin grinned. “I heard about why you left Dallas.”
“Well,” said Holliday, returning his smile, “the sheriff was running me out of town in the morning anyway for practicing a vigorous brand of self-defense.”
“I wasn't talking about that. It was the teeth.”
Holliday's smile became even broader. “He gave me twelve hours to get out of town. But then that night he had an abscessed tooth, and I was the only dentist he knew, so he hunted me up to have me pull it.” Holliday chuckled. “I put him under with laughing gas, pulled every tooth in his goddamned head, and decided to leave town without waiting for the stagecoach.”
Hardin threw back his head and laughed. “Damn! I knew we could be friends if we ever met!”
“No reason why not,” agreed Holliday.
Suddenly Hardin's smile vanished. “Except that I got to kill you.”
“No, you don't.”
“That was the deal. This huge critter, I guess he was an Indian but he sure as hell wasn't like any I ever saw, tore the brick wall right out of my cell and set me free, but the deal was that he'd only do it if I promised to kill you.”
“You don't owe him anything,” said Holliday. “He's dead.”
Hardin frowned. “Are you kidding me, Doc?”
“Ask anyone here,” said Holliday. “See the guy in the store-bought buckskins and the spectacles? He killed him.”
“Really?”
“Really,” said Holliday, pulling a pack of cards out of a pocket. “So drink up and let's play a little serious blackjack.”
Hardin stared at Roosevelt for another few seconds.
“Him?” he said disbelievingly.
“Him,” replied Holliday.
“Well, I'll be damned!”
“Probably we both will be,” agreed Holliday.
Hardin downed his drink. “Deal,” he said.
��NICE LITTLE TOWN,” remarked Hardin after they'd been playing for about twenty minutes and had pretty much broken even.
“Used to be even nicer, before the silver mines played out,” replied Holliday. “I think it lost better than half its population in the last thirty months.”
“Too bad. As famous as you and the Earps made it, you kinda hate to see it die.”
“As long as people will pay good money to see the corral where the fight wasn't, it'll stay alive.”
Hardin frowned. “Where