Doctor and the Kid, The (A Weird West Tale) (Weird West Tales) Read Free Page A

dryly.
    “I'm just being a realist. When you've been dying as long as I have, realism gets easier every day.” He turned toward the door. “I think I'd better be going. Nobody'll ever remember a consumptive gunfighter, so I want to impress the illustrious Mr. Wilde and have him write me into a book or a play.” He paused, then smiled. “I'm going to stop by Kate's office and pick up my bankroll, just so I can flash it and impress him.”
    “Let me make absolutely certain first I understand the purpose of this visit,” said Edison. “The only reason you came here is to tell me Geronimo knows I'm in Leadville—or, rather, that we can assume he knows it?”
    “Right,” said Holliday. “And to accept a drink, if you hadn't forgotten your manners.”
    Edison chuckled, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a bottle.
    “No sense getting a glass dirty,” said Holliday, taking it from him. He took a long swallow, then another, put the top back on, and handed it back. “My best to Ned.”
    “You may see him later,” said Edison. “He's working on another of Kate's robots. I think he should have it—or should I say, her?—in working order by midnight.”
    “Must be nice work, field-testing metal whores,” said Holliday.
    “You know he doesn't do that.”
    “More's the pity,” remarked Holliday. “I won't see him, though. Once I get my money, I'm off to the Monarch until sunrise.”
    He walked out the door, which closed automatically behind him, and headed toward Kate Elder's establishment. The dog got up and began walking beside him.
    “You sure you're not from Geronimo?” asked Holliday.
    The dog made no reply, which seemed almost as odd to Holliday as an affirmative would have been. He walked the two blocks to Kate Elder's whorehouse on Second Street, pausing three times to catch his breath, and cursing the thin night air.
    Finally he arrived at the large two-floor frame building, one of the holdouts against Buntline's impervious brass, climbed the three steps to the broad veranda, and entered. There were four scantily clad girls and two robots positioned around the parlor, talking to a trio of local men. The girls, none of whom were as young as they looked, all smiled and nodded to him, while the robots, whose feminine appearance always surprised him, ignored him and continued their pre-programmed flirting with the men. Holliday walked through the room, proceeded down a long corridor, and opened the door to Kate Elder's office.
    Kate was a busty woman in her early thirties, with a proboscis that had earned her the sobriquet of Big-Nose Kate. She sat at a desk, staring at him, her head framed by a large painting on the wall of a passionate Leda and a highly motivated swan. “Well, you're back early,” she said dryly. “Did you shoot all the customers, or did the saloon burn down?”
    “Only in your dreams,” said Holliday, walking over to a safe in the corner, kneeling down, and dialing the combination.
    “What do you think you're doing?” she demanded.
    “Taking my bankroll out for an airing,” answered Holliday as the lock clicked and he was able to open the door.
    “You're not touching that!” she snapped.
    “Don't be silly,” replied Holliday, pulling it out. “Whose money is it?”
    “What if someone shoots you and takes it?”
    “Then, my love, you will be shit out of luck when they read the will,” answered Holliday in amused tones. “You know, it's difficult to feel sorry for the proprietor of the biggest whorehouse in the territory.”
    “I thought you needed it for that place where they're going to lock you away to die,” said Kate.
    “Ah, the mistress of the delicate phraseology,” said Holliday. “I told you—I'm just taking it out for a few hours to impress someone who may very well immortalize me.”
    “I thought all those dime novels did that.”
    “There's immortality, and then there's immortality,” replied Holliday with a wry smile. “The money and I will both be