The Doctor and the Rough Rider Read Online Free PDF

and approached the table. “The Earps are long
     gone, and the silver mines are pretty much played out. If it wasn't for your pal Edison,
     this place'd be a ghost town.”
    “I'm just passing through,” replied Holliday noncommittally.
    “You're here to kill Johnny Behan!” said the bartender suddenly.
    “You mean someone hasn't done it already?” said Holliday. “What's the matter with
     you people?”
    “He's still around,” was the answer. “But we threw him out of office a year after
     you left town. Caught him stealing five thousand dollars of the county's money.”
    “Yeah, that's Behan, all right,” said Holliday.
    “When are you going after him?” persisted the bartender. “Tonight? Tomorrow?”
    “I'm really and truly not here for him,” said Holliday.
    “Good!” said a man sitting a couple of tables away. “He owes me money. I'd like him
     to live long enough to pay me.”
    Holliday gave him a look that said, You still haven't figured out who you're dealing with, have you? He poured a drink, downed it in a single swallow, and made a face. “That's pretty
     awful stuff.”
    “It's the best we got, Doc,” said the bartender.
    “Somehow I'm not surprised,” said Holliday, pouring another glass. He remained seated
     at the table until he'd killed half the bottle. Then he got to his feet, grabbed his
     suitcase in one hand and his bottle in the other, and walked out into the twilight.
    He turned on Fremont Street, passed a pair of rooming houses, and headed toward the
     Grand Hotel. When he arrived he took a room, left his bottle on a table and his carpetbag
     on the floor, and then walked back out the front door. It had grown a little darker,
     and now the streets were illuminated by Edison's electric streetlamps.
    He considered lighting a cigar, decided he didn't need to bring on a coughing fit,
     and instead began walking toward Edison's and Buntline's side-by-side buildings. He
     tried to spot all the protective devices as he approached Edison's front door, saw
     four and was sure he'd missedat least two or three others, and was about to knock when the door suddenly swung
     open.
    “Come on in, Doc,” said Edison's voice, and he entered as the door silently closed
     behind him. He knew his way around the house, and walked directly to Edison's office,
     which was at least as much laboratory and workshop as office.
    Edison was seated at his stained and battered desk, scribbling in a notebook. There
     were notes tacked to every available surface, vials of chemicals, batteries in various
     stages of design and completion, and a huge electric light. When he saw Holliday,
     he closed the book and put it in a drawer, then got to his feet, walked around the
     desk, and shook Holliday's hand.
    “I got your wire,” he said. “Is Mr. Roosevelt with you?”
    Holliday shook his head. “He's coming with Bat. Truth to tell, I don't know what the
     hell he looks like.”
    “Neither do I,” admitted Edison, “but I know that he's the most accomplished young
     man I've ever heard of.” A pause. “Can I get you a drink.”
    “I don't recall ever saying no to one,” replied Holliday.
    Edison walked to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. “I'll be interested
     to try this out,” he said, handing a glass to Holliday and filling both. “Ned picked
     it up the last time he took the Bunt Line to St. Louis.”
    Holliday took a sip. “It's better than the horse piss they're serving at the Oriental,
     I'll give it that.”
    Edison smiled. “I'll tell him you said so.”
    “He's not around?”
    “Oh, he's in town,” answered Edison. “He's repairing one of the metal harlots at what
     used to be Kate's establishment.”
    “I'm surprised he's not fixing them all the time, given the use they get.”
    “They're not in as much demand as they were when we created them three years ago and
     the population was three or four times larger,” said Edison. “On the other hand, they're