The Doctor and the Rough Rider (12 page)

“Jack,” Holliday corrected him. “Texas Jack Vermillion.”

“Would he come?” asked Edison.

“He came on Wyatt's Vendetta Ride,” answered Holliday. “Wild horses couldn't keep
him from something like this.”

“I'll start recruiting as soon as we're done here,” said Roosevelt enthusiastically.
“I'll wager I'll have a handpicked dozen within three days.”

“And you'll be the Roughest Rider of all?” suggested Holliday.

“Why not?” responded Roosevelt with a grin.

R
OOSEVELT AND
H
OLLIDAY
were sitting at a table in the Oriental. Holliday had his omnipresent bottle in front
of him, while Roosevelt sipped a tin mug of tea.

“Now, you have to understand, these are not the most elegant and polished men you're
ever going to come across,” Holliday was saying.

“I can't use elegant men,” said Roosevelt. “I want Rough Riders.”

“You've fallen in love with that term,” remarked Holliday with an amused smile.

“It describes what I want. Anyway, I need to meet these men. I can't imagine we have
more than a couple of days before War Bonnet walks into town, bold as brass, looking
for me. If we were back East, I'd enlist the great John L. and some of his rivals—and
there are some football players I'd add.”

Holliday shook his head. “You mean baseball.”

“No, football.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You will,” Roosevelt assured him. “Anyway, we're
not
back East, so I need the best Tombstone and the surrounding area's got to offer.”

“Some have only a nodding acquaintance with the law,” said Holliday. “And some have
an out-and-out contempt for it.”

“Are they brave?”

“Without exception.”

“And competent with their fists and their weapons?”

“They are.”

“Have they the courage to ride against overwhelming odds, look Death in the eye, and
laugh at him?”

Holliday smiled. “Some will laugh. Some'll curse. And most of 'em will shoot first
and leave the laughing and cursing for later.” He took a drink from his glass. “Anyway,
I've passed the word, and told Henry Wiggins to do the same.”

“He doesn't strike me as a Rough Rider,” noted Roosevelt.

Holliday chuckled. “He's just a well-meaning little salesman who I introduced to Ned
and Tom. But he's—what would you call him?—a hero-worshipper, with a misplaced sense
of what constitutes a hero.”

“Well,” said Roosevelt, “if he chooses the wrong men, we'll know soon enough.”

“There are still a few left over from the Vendetta Ride,” said Holliday. “I'll vouch
for any of them.”

Roosevelt frowned. “You mentioned the Vendetta Ride before, but…”

“It got quite a lot of publicity when it was occurring and right after,” said Holliday
with a smile. “It's the reason I had to leave Tombstone, in fact all of the Arizona
Territory, for a while.”

“Tell me about it,” said Roosevelt.

“Well, you've heard about the shootout between the Earps and the Clantons.”

“The Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” said Roosevelt, nodding his head. “It's famous
even in New York.”

Holliday grimaced. “I guess that's the way it's going to be known from now until doomsday,
but it didn't take place in the Corral, but in the alley that backed up to the Corral.
Anyway, it was me and Wyatt and his brothers on one side, and a couple of Clantons,
a couple of McLaurys, and a kid named Claiborne on the other. When the shooting was
over, both McLaurys and Billy Clanton were dead, and Virg and Morg—Wyatt's brothers—were
wounded. I even caught one myself, on my belt. Didn't break the skin, but it hurt
like a sonuvabitch for a few days.”

“I know the story,” said Roosevelt. “Or, more likely, a fictionalized version of it.
What does this have to do with a Vendetta?”

“A Vendetta Ride,” Holliday corrected him.

“Okay, a Vendetta Ride?”

“There were still a lot of Cowboys left after the gunfight.”

“Well, of course,” said Roosevelt. “The West is full of them.”

Holliday shook his head. “Means a different thing. Back East, a cowboy is anyone out
here who rides a horse and carries a gun. But in Tombstone Territory, it was a proper
noun. You spelled it with a capital C, and it was an organized gang of horse and cattle
thieves. Anyway, the Cowboys didn't like that we'd killed some of their people, so
one night a few weeks later they backshot Morgan while he was playing pool right across
the street from here and killed him.” Holliday grimaced again. “I loved that young
man like he was my own brother. A few weeks later they ambushed Virgil and crippled
him up pretty badly, badly enough that Wyatt shipped him out of here.”

“Is he still alive?” asked Roosevelt.

Holliday nodded. “But he's got an arm he'll never use again. Anyway, we knew Johnny
Behan, who was still sheriff, was never going to do anything about it, so we formed
a punishment party, and no matter what the courts said, it was legal, because Wyatt
was still a marshal and he deputized all the rest of us.”

“How many were you?”

“Maybe half a dozen, maybe a little more,” answered Holliday. “There was Wyatt, and
me, and Texas Jack Vermillion, and, let me see, Turkey Creek Johnson, Hairlip Charlie
Smith, Sherman McMaster, Tip Tipton, one or two more.”

“And the outcome?”

“You didn't see any Cowboys on the way into Tombstone,” replied Holliday, “and you
ain't going to see any while you're here.”

“Good!”

“You got something against the Cowboys, Theodore?” asked Holliday. “You didn't even
know what they were two minutes ago.”

“I mean good, that's the kind of men I want for my Rough Riders,” responded Roosevelt.
“This isn't a mission for milquetoasts.”

“Maybe you'd like to explain just what the hell this mission is about?” said Holliday.
“I've seen War Bonnet, been close enough to touch him or at least spit on him—and
the fact that he couldn't harm me doesn't make any difference if he can get his hands
on you.”

“What am I suppose to do?” growled Roosevelt. “Just sit here and wait for him? You
don't get results by waiting for good things to happen, Doc.”

“You live a lot longer if you don't go out hunting for bad things that were created
for the sole purpose of pulping your body and biting your head off,” answered Holliday.
“You can't stand against him, Theodore. Take my word for it.”

“I know.”

Holliday frowned in confusion. “Then if you know, what the hell are you doing? I'm
the one who's supposed to not care whether he lives or dies.”

“You gave me a clue when you were describing your encounter with him.”

“If I told you how to hurt him, what did I miss when I confronted him?”

“Nothing,” said Roosevelt. “But you confronted him on neutral ground.”

“And you think it's safer to face him on his home turf?” said Holliday. “What the
hell's in that tea you're drinking?”

Roosevelt smiled. “Not
his
home turf, Doc.
Theirs
.”

Holliday looked completely confused. “Whose?” he all but shouted.

“The medicine men who are controlling him,” said Roosevelt. “If I can't harm him,
then maybe my Rough Riders and I can kill the men who give him his orders.”

Holliday shook his head. “You don't even know where they are. Or if they're in one
place.”

“I think Geronimo can tell me,” said Roosevelt. “After all, he's the single most powerful
of them. And he has no desire to die, or so he says, so why wouldn't he tell me?”

“And if they're spread out in forty or fifty villages?”

“Then we'll hunt them down and kill them one at a time.”

“Before War Bonnet can kill you?” said Holliday dubiously.

“If they're in fifty villages, then he's only got one chance in fifty of guessing
right,” replied Roosevelt. “You're a gambler, Doc. Wouldn't you bet those odds?”

“And if they're in one place?”

“Then we'll have to kill them all before he can kill me.”

“I don't know…” began Holliday.

“The alternative is to sit here until he walks through those swinging doors looking
for me,” said Roosevelt.

“He wouldn't fit.”

“All the more reason to
do
something before he tears the place apart trying to get to me.”

“Well, when do we leave?” asked Holliday.

“
We?
” said Roosevelt, arching an eyebrow.

“You're going to be recruiting all the worst gamblers,” replied Holliday with a smile.
“No sense hanging around here with nothing but men who know how to count.”

Roosevelt threw back his head and laughed. “Damn, I knew I liked you, Doc Holliday!”

“It's my shy and gentle manner, no doubt,” said Holliday, taking yet another drink.

“Well, I suppose we'd better devise some tests.”

“Tests?”

“For our potential Rough Riders,” explained Roosevelt. “How well can they shoot? Can
they ride a horse that's bucking in panic? If it comes to close fighting, how are
they with fists and knives?”

“First, they're your Rough Riders, not ours,” complained Holliday. “And second, what
you're describing is a rodeo, except for the fist-fighting part.” He paused and stared
at Roosevelt. “Theodore, there's an easier way to look at it.”

“Oh?”

Holliday nodded his head. “Just consider this: any man who walks in here wearing a
gun is undefeated.”

Roosevelt's eyes widened. “I never thought of that.”

“This isn't like one of Bat's boxing matches back East,” said Holliday. “We play for
keeps out here. When you lose, you're dead. There are no rematches.”

“You're right, of course,” said Roosevelt. “But even if they're all undefeated, they
aren't all of equal value.”

“No, they're not. But if they rode on the Vendetta Ride, it means Wyatt and I vouch
for them.”

“If they survived that and they're willing to ride against the medicine men with me,
that should be all the qualifications they need,” agreed Roosevelt.

Holliday looked up at the swinging doors. “Here's one. Care to meet him?”

“Of course!”

Holliday signaled to the short, burly man who had just entered. He turned and began
approaching the table, and Roosevelt saw there was something wrong with his upper
lip.

“Charlie, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Theodore Roosevelt,” said Holliday
without getting up. “Theodore, say hello to Hairlip Charlie Smith.”

Smith offered his hand to Roosevelt, who rose to his feet. “It ain't a real hairlip,”
he explained. “I got shot in the lip in a gunfight back in Abilene ten, twelve years
ago.”

“Have a seat, Charlie,” said Roosevelt. “Doc's been telling me about you.”

“Nothing good, I imagine,” said Smith with a smile. “Doc's just pissed because that
teenaged chippie went off with me instead of him last time he lived here.” He turned
to Doc. “We both know Kate would have killed you if you'd taken her home with you.”

“There are a lot of rooms in town,” replied Holliday easily. “And hard as it may be
for you to believe, I was saying favorable things about you.”

Smith chuckled. “Maybe so, but I ain't loaning you no money.”

“Mr. Smith…” began Roosevelt.

“Charlie,” Smith corrected him. “Or Hairlip, if you want.”

“Charlie, I am about to embark on an exciting enterprise, and I'd like your help.
Doc's told me about your heroism during Wyatt Earp's Vendetta Ride. I have something
similar on tap.”

“What's the job pay?” asked Smith.

“Not a single penny,” said Roosevelt. “What we're going to do, we're doing because
it's the right thing.”

“I dunno,” said Smith. “Whenever someone talks about doing the right thing, some other
folks usually wind up getting themselves shot all to pieces.”

“What if I told you that Geronimo has decided to lift the spell that's kept the United
States bottled up east of the Mississippi?”

Smith frowned. “You want to kill him for
that
? I thought that's what everyone back East wanted.”

“I want it too,” said Roosevelt. “We all do.” He paused. “Well,
almost
all of us. But there's a group of medicine men who don't want Geronimo to make peace
with us, who are determined to kill him.”

“And you're after
them
?” asked Smith.

“That I am,” Roosevelt assured him.

“So it's whoever you can put together riding off to kill some medicine men?”

“Almost,” said Roosevelt.

“Almost kill them?”

“That's almost all we're riding off to kill.”

Roosevelt spent the next few minutes explaining about War Bonnet, having Holliday
describe him and their meeting, and suggesting that if he and his Rough Riders didn't
go hunting for War Bonnet and the medicine men, that War Bonnet would probably tear
Tombstone apart looking for him.

“So that's the situation,” said Roosevelt in conclusion. “Are you man enough to come
with us?”

“Of course,” said Smith. “So will damned near every other man you ask.”

“They grow them brave out here,” said Roosevelt.

“Brave's got nothing to do with it,” said Smith with a smile. “Doc's
already explained that War Bonnet can't hurt nobody but you and Geronimo, so the rest
of us are safe.”

“Then you'll come?”

“Hell, yes! Once in my life I ought to do something because it's the right thing.”

“I'm glad to have you on our team!” said Roosevelt, reaching out and shaking his hand
again.

“Hard to resist,” replied Smith. “I don't know what the hell a Rough Rider is, but
I sure like the notion of calling myself one.”