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

back here before you wake up.”
    “It had damned well better be,” she said, glaring at him. “If you lose it, or get robbed, or get killed, don't come running to me for any money.”
    “Kate, light of my life, if I get killed I promise not to come to you for more money,” Holliday responded.
    “I'm not kidding, Doc,” she said, suddenly serious. “You come back without it, and you can cough your life out in some goddamned stable or toolshed.”
    He closed the safe, riffled the money as if it were a deck of cards, placed it in a vest pocket, walked over, and kissed her on the cheek.
    “I love you too, my angel,” he said, trying to suppress a grin.
    She glared at him for a moment, and then her expression softened. “Why do we put up with each other, I wonder?” she asked almost wistfully.
    “There's an easy answer to that.”
    “What is it?” she asked, honestly puzzled.
    Holliday smiled. “Who else would?”
    He picked up his cane, and a moment later he was out in the street. He looked around for the dog, couldn't spot it, couldn't decide whether that was a comforting sign or a bad omen, and finally shrugged and headed toward the Monarch.

 
    A
     
S H OLLIDAY APPROACHED THE SALOON he saw a well-dressed woman carrying a parasol approaching from the opposite direction. As she came closer he recognized her from the posters around town as Susan B. Anthony. When they were a few feet apart he took off his hat and bowed low.
    “Top of the evening, Miss Anthony,” he said.
    “Do I know you?” she asked curiously.
    “No, Miss Anthony,” replied Holliday. “But I know you. Or of you, anyway.”
    “If we haven't met, why such a fancy bow?”
    He shrugged. “Why not?”
    “Well, let's make the introduction official,” she said, extending a gloved hand. “I am pleased to meet you, Mister…?”
    “Doctor,” he replied, taking her hand. “John Henry Holliday.”
    “Dr. Holliday,” she concluded.
    “Doc Holliday,” he corrected her. “Why stand on formality?”
    Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand back as if it had been touching a rattlesnake. “The notorious Doc Holliday?”
    “As opposed to all the other Doc Hollidays?” he asked in amused tones. When she had no answer, he continued: “May I buy you a drink, Miss Anthony?”
    “Certainly not!” she said in outraged tones.
    “I'd offer to play five-card stud with you, but that seems somehow inappropriate.”
    “I know all about you, Doc Holliday!” she said angrily. “I was hoping not to encounter you before my tour continued. You are a dreadful man!”
    “True,” he agreed. “But I'm a very good dentist.” A self-deprecating smile crossed his once-handsome face. “Or at least, I used to be.”
    “I will not stand here conversing with a terrible killer!”
    “Actually, I'm quite probably the best killer you will ever encounter,” replied Holliday. “You're sure I can't buy you a drink?”
    “You are a drinker and a shootist!” she snapped. “You represent everything I am campaigning against. You are the enemy!”
    “If the enemy is composed of drinkers and shootists, you should be thanking me rather than condemning me,” said Holliday easily. “I've eliminated more of your enemies than I think you can imagine.”
    “Murderer!” she yelled.
    Suddenly his demeanor changed. “I have never shot a man in cold blood. And I do not call half the human race my enemies before judging each of them in his turn.” A very brief pause. “Excuse me. I meant each in her turn.”
    She glared at him in silent rage.
    “Well, it's been a pleasure, Miss Anthony. But if you'll excuse me, you are standing in the doorway to my office,” he concluded, indicating the saloon's swinging doors.
    She walked past him without another word.
    Holliday looked at his reflection in the Monarch's glass window. “That went about as well as usual, you old charmer, you,” he said sardonically, then walked to the swinging doors, pushed them open, and