The Doctor and the Rough Rider (5 page)

“You're Goyathlay,” he said with absolute certainty.

“And you are Roosevelt,” said Geronimo.

“I have come a long way to meet you,” Roosevelt said in Apache.

“I speak your language,” said Geronimo. “And we have important things to discuss.”

“If this is a private conversation,” said Holliday hopefully, “I can just go sit in
the shade of that hut, and maybe relax with a drink from”—he padded his flask through
his coat—“my special water supply.”

“No,” said Geronimo.

“No?” repeated Holliday, making no attempt to hide his annoyance. “I brought him.
What more do you want?”

“It is important that you listen too,” said Geronimo, “because when we are done, it
will start a war such as you have never dreamed about.”

Holliday stared at him for a moment, then pulled out his flask. “I think I'll have
that drink right now,” he said.

��I
T IS TIME
,” said Geronimo when he and Roosevelt were sitting cross-legged on the ground in
the shade of Geronimo's hut, facing each other. Holliday, who had some trepidation
about lowering himself to the ground gracefully and an absolute certainty that if
he managed it he could never get up on his own power, remained on his feet a few feet
away. “That is why I have sent for you.”

“I appreciate that,” replied Roosevelt. “I have two questions.” Suddenly he grinned.
“Well, two right now. A lot more later.”

“You may ask.”

“Why me?”

“You are a man of honor.”

“Thank you,” said Roosevelt. “But there are many men of honor.”

“Not as many as you think,” said Geronimo. “And though you are a very young man, you
are the best of them.”

“I'm flattered that you should think so,” replied Roosevelt, “but there are many better
men.”

Geronimo stared at him for a long moment. “Do you truly believe that?” he said at
last.

Roosevelt stared back for just as long. “No,” he finally admitted. “No, I don't.”

“Good. Because if you answered otherwise, I would not know that I can trust you.”
He paused. “You had a second question?”

Roosevelt nodded. “Why now?”

“It is time.”

“It is past time, but why have you decided to lift the spell now?”

“Many reasons,” said Geronimo. “The man Edison will soon know how to negate much of
our magic.”

“We both know you could kill him before that happens,” offered Holliday from where
he stood.

“He has done me a service. I will not kill him while I am obligated to him.”

“You paid it off,” said Holliday. “He found a way to remove the spell and the railroad
from your burial ground, and you removed Billy the Kid's supernatural protection.”

Geronimo shook his head. “I paid
you
, Holliday. You were the one who faced McCarty called the Kid. I did not pay Edison,
and until I find a way, he is safe from me.” Another pause. “But he is not safe from
the other tribes.”

“You said many reasons,” said Roosevelt. “What are some others?”

“There are too many White Eyes,” answered Geronimo. “Already many thousands of you
have crossed the river. You have even built towns. We no longer have the power to
stop you, only to hinder you. Eventually your nation will reach from one ocean to
the other, and if we fight you every step of the way is it not beyond your people
to wage a war of extermination, which we cannot win.”

“I would fight against that,” said Roosevelt.

“I know. That is another reason I have chosen you.”

“After you, Hook Nose was the strongest of the medicine men,”
said Holliday, “and you killed him almost two years ago. This should be a stroll in
the park.”

Geronimo frowned. “I do not understand.”

“With no Hook Nose, there should be no meaningful opposition,” said Holliday.

Geronimo shook his head. “How little you know.”

“Enlighten us,” said Roosevelt.

“The medicine men of the other Indian nations have always resented my power, and now
they have a reason to openly oppose me. They have no intention of lifting the spell.”

“If you're the strongest…” began Holliday.

“I am stronger than any one of them,” explained Geronimo. “I am not stronger than
most of them acting in concert.”

“How many others are there?”

“More than fifty.”

“And how many oppose you?” continued Holliday.

“Perhaps thirty-five, perhaps forty.”

“And you think with Theodore on your side, you can beat them?”

“Theodore?” asked Geronimo, frowning.

“Roosevelt,” said Holliday.

“It will take more than him,” said Geronimo.

“What or who else will it take?” asked Roosevelt.

“Edison and Buntline,” answered the Apache.

“What will you want them to do?”

Geronimo shrugged. “It depends on what the other nations do.”

Roosevelt shook his head. “We need a better strategy than to just sit here waiting
for them to strike first.” He turned to Holliday. “Doc, you've got to have a lot of
friends who are good with guns.”

Holliday smiled a bittersweet smile. “I have never had a lot of friends.”

“Then we'll recruit them.”

“To face the warriors of fifty-five Indian nations?” asked Holliday in amused tones.

“There have to be alternatives.” He turned to Geronimo. “You didn't send for me just
so I'd be an easier target for your enemies. What do you have in mind?”

“I chose right,” said Geronimo, nodding his head in satisfaction. “I sent for you
to make sure you had not changed since you first came to me in a vision three years
ago, that you were still the man best fit to lead your nation across the river, and
to make peace with
my
nation.”

Roosevelt looked at him expectantly, and finally the old man continued.

“I will show you what you must eventually face, Roosevelt.”

“Eventually?”

“They are still learning how to control it,” said Geronimo. “Little do they know that
it cannot be controlled, only aimed like a rifle or an arrow.”

Roosevelt frowned. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“I will show you.”

Geronimo closed his eyes and uttered a chant. Roosevelt tried to follow it, but though
he had studied the Apache language, most of the words were unfamiliar to him.

Then, suddenly, a naked warrior with bright red skin, perhaps two feet high, stood
on the ground between them. Roosevelt leaned forward and studied him. His red face
was almost that of a skeleton's, but it was somehow capable of expression, and right
now it was frowning and glowering. His arms were as long as an ape's, and ended not
in hands or paws, but in flames.

“What is it?”

“The man Edison would call it a test model,” answered Geronimo.
“It is a creation of my rivals and your enemies. It has a name, but you cannot pronounce
it. The closest approximation is War Bonnet.”

“And this is what the other tribes are sending against us?” asked Roosevelt.

“That is correct.”

“I could smash his head with my pistol right now,” offered Holliday. “Or put a bullet
through it.”

“This is not War Bonnet,” said Geronimo, “but merely what he will look like.”

Roosevelt reached out for the image, and his hand passed right through it. “If that's
the worst they can do, I don't think we've got much to worry about,” he said.

“As I said, it is only a model. This is what the true War Bonnet will look like when
they are done with him.” Geronimo muttered another chant, and suddenly the image of
War Bonnet began growing taller and broader, the flames that were his hands become
longer and brighter, his skeleton's face grew more fearsome, and when he finally reached
his full height the top of his head towered some twelve feet above the ground.

“Interesting,” commented Roosevelt.

“He is not just a giant, but will have powers even I cannot guess at,” added Geronimo.

“He's a couple of feet taller than the biggest grizzly I've ever seen.”

“And mighty few grizzlies can reach out and set you on fire,” added Holliday.

“Will he be able to shoot those flames like arrows?” asked Roosevelt.

“Almost certainly,” answered Geronimo.

“And he'll have other powers too?”

Geronimo nodded. “Many.” He paused. “I will make him vanish now.”

“No,” said Roosevelt, pulling a notebook out of a pocket. “I'm not
much of an artist, but let me sketch him so I can show Tom what we're up against.”

“Tom?” repeated the Apache.

“Edison.”

“The White Eyes have too many names,” declared Geronimo.

“His whole name is Thomas Alva Edison,” said Holliday with a smile.

“You are sure?”

“As sure as my name's John Henry Holliday.”

Geronimo snorted but made no reply.

“Okay, I'm done,” said Roosevelt a moment later, putting the notebook away. Geronimo
made a gesture and the image of War Bonnet vanished.

“I've got a question, if I may,” said Holliday.

Geronimo turned to him. “Ask.”

“You're the most powerful medicine man of them all. Why can't you just magic War Bonnet
away, send him back to whatever hell they pulled him out of?”

“His magic is too strong for that—or it will be, once he truly exists,” answered Geronimo.
“They know better than to create a creature that I can scatter on the winds.”

“Let me make sure I understand our agreement,” said Roosevelt. “You lift the spell,
and I agree to fight War Bonnet with help from Edison or anyone else I can enlist?”
He paused, frowning. “We have an army. Why don't I just send for it?”

“Your army cannot cross the river, for I cannot lift the spell with all of the other
medicine men arrayed against me,” answered Geronimo. “First they must be defeated.
Only then can I lift the spell.”

“Not much of a bargain,” commented Holliday. “Especially since you admit that sooner
or later we're going to spread across the river anyway. Did I hear that right?”

“You heard it right,” confirmed Geronimo.

“You didn't ask him the operative question, Doc,” said Roosevelt.

“What question was that?” asked Holliday.

Roosevelt turned to Geronimo. “If the spell isn't lifted,
when
will we freely cross the river and settle the land to the Pacific Ocean?”

Geronimo opened both hands, extended his fingers, then closed them and repeated the
process seven more times.

“Eighty years,” said Roosevelt. “Almost everyone who is alive today, even newborn
infants, will be dead by then.” He grimaced. “That's why I have to do this, Doc. It
is our manifest destiny to reach from one coast to the other. I can't make an entire
nation wait for more than three-quarters of a century because I find the task daunting.”
He reached his hand out. “Goyathlay, we have a deal.”

Geronimo took his hand. “It is not written that you shall succeed,” he said grimly.
“Only that you are the best of them.”

“Doc and I have to get back to Tombstone and meet with Edison,” said Roosevelt, getting
to his feet. “How long will you remain here?”

“I leave tonight,” answered Geronimo.

“How will I find you if I need to confer with you?”

“Holliday knows.”

Geronimo didn't say another word, but somehow his warriors knew to bring Roosevelt's
and Holliday's horses and weapons, and shortly thereafter they were heading back to
Tombstone across the parched landscape.

A single hawk, riding the hot thermals, circled overhead. Finally it swooped down,
diving directly toward Roosevelt. When it was some thirty yards away its wings turned
to flames, the same flames Roosevelt had seen at the ends of War Bonnet's arms.

“Soon!” promised the hawk, and vanished just before it reached him.

H
OLLIDAY
, R
OOSEVELT, AND
M
ASTERSON
sat on cow hide furniture in Edison's living room. Edison himself emerged from a
kitchen, bringing them coffee on a copper tray.

“Ned will be here in a few minutes,” he announced. “He's just finishing up some work
in his lab.”

“I don't want to sound unduly nervous,” said Roosevelt, “but I have to ask: Is it
safe to sit here with my back to a window?”

Holliday chuckled at that, and even Masterson smiled.

“Have I said something funny?” asked Roosevelt, trying to hide his irritation.

“Theodore, nothing inimical can get within a quarter mile of the house without my
knowing it—on land
or
in the air. Pull your gun and take a shot at the window in question.”

Roosevelt frowned. “Shoot at the window?” he repeated.

“That's right.”

“Stand back, Bat,” said Edison. “Just in case.”

Masterson got up and walked to the center of the room as Roosevelt
pulled his pistol out of its holster, took aim at the window, and fired. The bullet
flattened against the window and careened off very near to where Masterson had been
sitting.

“Well, I'll be…” said Roosevelt, obviously impressed. “That's truly remarkable, Thomas.”

“I developed it about two years ago,” answered Edison. “The problem is, I haven't
found an inexpensive way to make it. It's effective, but it's exorbitant. I use the
glass only on the house. Oh, and of course on Ned's next door.”

Roosevelt leaned back on his chair. “Well, that assuages one worry.”

“Just one?”

“You've been out here for three years. I've never seen a manifestation of magic until
today.”

Edison smiled. “I view it as a different scientific system. The effects can be startling,
even frightening, but it obeys laws, just as science does. The trick is to find out
what those laws are and to learn how to negate or contravene them.”

“Maybe we can get you together with Geronimo,” suggested Roosevelt, picking up a cup
and sipping his coffee. “You're both on the same side, so perhaps he can educate you
in his system's laws.”

“He'll never do it,” said Holliday firmly.

“I agree,” said Masterson, lighting up a cigar.

“But—” began Roosevelt.

“Trust me,” said Holliday. “I know him better than any of you. We were his enemy until
a few months ago. We're still not his friends, just a perceived inevitability. He's
not going to turn over any secrets to any of us, and especially not to Tom.”

Roosevelt turned to Edison. “Do you agree with that appraisal?”

Edison nodded his head. “Doc's summed it up. We're not his
friends, and we're not his allies. We're an inevitable force that he's willing to
accommodate, nothing more.”

A burly, balding man entered the room from the enclosed passageway that joined the
two houses together.

“Hello, all,” said Ned Buntline. “How did the meeting with Geronimo go?”

“The spell's still in effect,” said Roosevelt.

“Figures,” said Buntline. “He didn't send for you just to say, ‘Here, Theodore—the
continent's yours.’ What does he want from you?”

“You're very perceptive,” remarked Roosevelt with a smile.

“If he was going to lift it without something in return, it'd be gone already. And
if he just wanted someone killed, he'd never send for you when Doc was already obligated
to him for springing him out of that jail in Leadville.”

“That's what I'm here to discuss,” said Roosevelt. “Ever hear of someone or something
called War Bonnet?”

“No,” said Buntline and Edison in unison.

Roosevelt spent the next few minutes describing the huge apparition.

“What can he do?” asked Edison. “Which is to say, what are his powers?”

“I don't know,” answered Roosevelt. “In fact, I don't know for a fact that he has
any, other than the strength that goes with that physique.”

“Oh, he's got them, all right,” said Edison. “If physical strength was all they wanted
to imbue it with, they could make it the king of the grizzlies, huge and invulnerable.”
He turned to Buntline. “Right, Ned?”

“I agree. They didn't need to make this creature just to combat
you
, Theodore. They've got the warriors from half a hundred tribes to do that.”

“May I offer an idea?” said Masterson.

“Certainly.”

“Could this thing have been created to face an American regiment if Geronimo finds
a way to lift the spell without their consent?”

Edison and Buntline exchanged looks.

“Makes sense to me,” said Buntline at last.

“I don't know,” said Edison. “I think we're missing some necessary information.”

“What do you mean?” asked Roosevelt.

“Theodore, I'm sure you and Bat made excellent time coming out here, and caused no
undue commotions along the way, but believe me, you couldn't have kept your presence
secret from all the other medicine men, even if none of them are quite as powerful
as Geronimo. They could have attacked you at any time along the way. And that means
you might not be the
only
reason this War Bonnet was created, or is being created, or will be created.”

“Makes sense,” said Holliday.

“It makes sense, but it means we're still in the dark,” said Buntline, taking a proffered
cigar from Masterson and lighting up. “What do the other tribes plan to do? How do
they plan to negate Geronimo's magic and keep you from doing whatever it is Geronimo
wants you to do?”

“He wants me to kill or neutralize this War Bonnet,” said Roosevelt.

“Well, I'm sure he wants that too,” said Buntline, “but he's a devious old devil,
even when he's on our side. And somehow he always gets what he wants. The trick is
to figure out on the front end just what that is.”

“I don't know that I agree with you,” said Holliday. “He's an honorable man. It's
entirely possible that he wants exactly what he says he wants.”

“Perhaps,” said Edison, refilling his coffee cup. “But I think, in the meantime, that
Theodore might consider being my house guest. At least he'll be safe here.”

Roosevelt shook his head vigorously. “I thank you for the offer, but I'll stay where
I am.”

“Are you certain?”

“I'm certain,” replied Roosevelt. “I didn't come all this way to hide in a room, even
one with as nice a library as yours doubtless has. Whatever War Bonnet's capabilities,
we know there's an Indian military force, so I've got to be out and around recruiting
men to face it. We're not going to be fighting them in New York or the Dakota Badlands,
so I have to become more acquainted with the terrain.” He paused, as if considering
whether or not to continue, and finally shrugged. “And there's something else.”

The four others looked at him expectantly.

“I am not entirely lacking in the power of persuasion,” said Roosevelt. “I thought
I might visit the Southern Cheyenne and some of the others and convince them to come
over to Geronimo's side.”

“Are you crazy?” demanded Masterson.

“They were his allies until a month or two ago,” said Roosevelt.

“Then let an Apache talk to them!”

“It's no different than speaking to a crowd of Democrats,” Roosevelt assured him.

“The hell it isn't,” said Masterson. “The Democrats weren't sworn to kill you.”

“They were sworn to defeat me. So are the Indians.”

Masterson turned to Edison. “
You
explain it to him. I give up.”

“Theodore, you don't really want to ride unprotected into Indian territory,” said
Edison.

“I thought it was
all
Indian territory,” said Roosevelt with a smile. “Isn't that what this is about?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” answered Roosevelt. “But Bat and Doc have told me about
some of the inventions you've come up with since the government sent you out here,
and I thought you might like to supply me with some of them.” He flashed the others
a grin. “So you see, I don't plan to ride into enemy territory, or anywhere else,
without protection.”

Edison sighed. “Theodore, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be protecting you
from
.”

“Then I'd say that finding out is our first order of business,” answered Roosevelt.

“Geronimo's told you all that he's going to tell you,” said Holliday. “Hell, it's
probably all he knows right now.”

“What do you propose, then?” demanded Roosevelt. “That we sit right here and wait
for them to reach full strength and launch an attack?”

“Me?” said Holliday. “I propose to go back to Leadville, check into the sanitarium,
and hope to hear before I breathe my last that Geronimo lifted the spell and we've
crossed the Mississippi in huge numbers.”

“I'm sorry,” said Roosevelt earnestly. “This is
my
fight. And I don't propose to do it on an empty stomach. I saw a nice-looking restaurant
across from the Oriental.”

He got to his feet, and Masterson stood up as well. “I'll join you.”

“I'll be back tomorrow,” Roosevelt promised. “I want to consider various approaches
to the problem, and see which seems to offer the greatest chance of success.”

“How can you do it when you don't know what this War Bonnet can do, or even if he's
the only magical thing they're going to throw against you?” asked Masterson as he
followed Roosevelt to the door.

“It's a novel problem. It requires a novel solution.”

Then they were out the door and gone.

“Doc, are you really going back to Leadville?” asked Edison.

“I was going to ask that myself,” said Buntline.

“I'll stick around another day or two, sit in on a game or two at the Oriental, and
then I plan to head back. I don't want to be too far from the sanitarium if something
happens.”

“I can appreciate that,” said Edison, frowning.

“But?” said Holliday, suddenly alert. “There's an unspoken ‘but’ hiding in there somewhere.”

“Doc, I studied this young man, this Roosevelt, when I heard he was coming out here.
He's the most accomplished man America has yet produced. Along with everything else,
he even wrote the definitive treatise on naval warfare. There are the seeds of greatness
within him. Whatever the outcome here, America is going to need him.”

Holliday stared at him in silence.

“You know what I'm going to ask you,” said Edison uncomfortably.

“You're going to have to say it,” replied Holliday.

“Doc, Ned and I will supply you with anything you need, but I want you to keep that
young man alive.”

“Whatever the cost?” said Holliday.

“Whatever the cost.”