Doctor and the Kid, The (A Weird West Tale) (Weird West Tales) by Mike Resnick Page A

a touch of admiration. “I'll bet you've had a lot of schooling.”
    “I'm a doctor. Well, a dentist.”
    “I envy that kind of book-learning,” admitted the Kid. “I know they write me up in the dime novels, but I can barely wade through the first page before I give it up.” He frowned. “And I'm never on the first page!”
    “We all have to live with disappointment,” said Holliday. “At least you live to the end of the story.”
    “Other people read ‘em and tell me about ‘em,” said the Kid. “Some bastard wrote one last month that has Garrett calling me out and shooting me down in the street at high noon.” He frowned. “I think I'll kill both the writer and Garrett for that.”
    “I'm sure Woo-Ka-Nay will be thrilled,” said Holliday dryly.
    “So who are you here to kill?” asked the Kid, signaling to the bartender for another glass. “I hope you don't mind if I share your poison?”
    “Not at all,” said Holliday, filling his glass when it arrived. “As for why I'm here, I lived here for more than a year.”
    “Yeah, everyone's heard about the Gunflight.” The Kid leaned forward. “Was it as bloody as they say?”
    “Nine people showed up. Three died, two ran away, three were wounded.”
    “And Wyatt Earp got off Scott-free!” said the Kid. “I heard that.” He paused. “Were all nine of you really in that little alley?”
    Holliday nodded. “According to the Tombstone Epitaph , which measured the place, the farthest any of us could be from the men on the other side was nineteen feet.”
    “Sounds crowded.”
    “It was,” answered Holliday. “One of the McLaurys even had his horse there.”
    “I wish I'd been there,” said the Kid wistfully. “They'll be talking about that shootout a century from now.”
    “I doubt it,” said Holliday. “The whole thing was over in half a minute, tops, and there was so much smoke from the gun barrels that you couldn't see half of what was happening anyway.”
    “Still, ain't no one ever gonna remember the Lincoln County War.”
    “Sure they will,” said Holliday. “It was a war, it's got Lincoln's name, and the notorious Billy the Kid fought in it. What more does it need?”
    “You really think so?” said the Kid eagerly.
    “I really do.”
    “I like you, Doc Holliday!” said the Kid, draining his glass. “I think we're going to be great friends.”
    “Might as well be,” said Holliday. “After all, we can't shoot each other even if we want to.”
    And I've got to get Tom working on that.
    “Let's finish the bottle and then go straighten our backs at the Wildcat,” suggested the Kid.
    “I don't know if they'll let us in after last night,” said Holliday with a smile. “We frightened away half their clientele.”
    “Who's going to stop us?” said the Kid.
    “A telling point,” agreed Holliday, finishing the whiskey and getting to his feet.
    “I'll tell you true, Doc,” said the Kid, also rising. “I'm sure glad I can't kill you.”
    “Me, too,” said Holliday, swaying just a little as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He coughed into his bloody handkerchief.
    But I'm going to have to find a way to kill you, and before too much longer, or I'll be too damned weak to make it back to Leadville.

 
    H
     
OLLIDAY WALKED DOWN THE DIRT STREET past all the empty hitching posts. Ned adds a few more carriages to the Bunt Line and they might as well get rid of these damned hitching posts , thought Holliday. Hell, they might even pave the streets.
    He turned a corner and saw Edison's and Buntline's houses. From the outside, they appeared to be normal residences. Only the brass-enclosed connecting passage between the two gave any indication that they weren't what they seemed to be, but Holliday knew from previous demonstrations that these were the best-protected buildings in Cochise County.
    He approached Edison's house. Before he could knock on the door, the security system had identified him and the brass portal swung