Weird West 04 - The Doctor and the Dinosaurs Read Free

you.”
    “Didn't seem to bother you,” noted Holliday.
    “I know your habits,” replied Edison with a smile. “And how many places can you drink all night in a town as small as Leadville?”
    Holliday chuckled. “Well, thanks for coming,” he said. “I'm sorry it was a wasted trip.”
    “Nonsense. We're glad you're alive. I guess they misdiagnosed you.”
    “No, they had it right. At noon today any gambler would have given you even money that I wouldn't be around at noon tomorrow.”
    Suddenly Edison learned forward intently. “You want to tell me about it?”
    “Not much to tell. We both know there's only one man with the power to let a dying man live.”
    “Goyathlay?”
    Holliday nodded his head. “Geronimo.”
    “He had a reason, of course?”
    “Of course,” said Holliday. “The bastard.”
    Edison frowned. “I'm not following this. He brought you back from the precipice. Why is he a bastard?”
    “He didn't restore my health, not that I ever had any by the time I was old enough to shave.”
    “But you were dying, and now you're not!” protested Edison.
    “Oh, I'm dying, all right,” replied Holliday as a gambler at a nearby table let out a triumphant yell. “Just not quite as fast as before.” He took another drink. “He's made me the way I was when I met him. I've still got the consumption, but at least I can function.”
    Edison nodded. “He doesn't want to take that killing edge off you.”
    Holliday stared at him for a long moment. “You too?” he growled.
    “I'm not saying I approve, Doc,” answered Edison. “Just that I understand his reasoning. If he gave you perfect health, you'd be less inclined to risk it.” There was a brief pause. “What does he need you for?”
    “Some foolishness in Wyoming,” said Holliday, frowning. “Hell, it doesn't even concern the Apaches,” He grimaced. “Well, not unless it gets out of hand.”
    “What the hell is in Wyoming?” asked Edison, clearly puzzled. “There's no gold, no major rivers to be diverted, not much of anything valuable to be honest.”
    “There's a graveyard.”
    “I'm sure there are lots of them,” said Edison. “So?”
    “Let me re-word that,” said Holliday. “There's a sacred burial ground.”
    “I'm still confused,” said Edison. “There's no train tracks going through there yet, the way there were down near Lincoln City in Arizona when we got them to re-route it. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, there are no Apaches.”
    “You're right,” said Holliday. “There's no Apaches, no railroad, no major rivers, and no gold.”
    “So what is there?”
    Holliday stared at him for a moment. “Bones.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I knew you wouldn't believe it,” said Holliday with an amused smile as a happy shout went up from the faro table and one of the gamblers, clutching a wad of cash, offered to buy drinks for the house, then amended it to drinks for the faro players when he saw how crowded the Monarch was.
    “Someone's digging up bones from a Comanche burial ground?” repeated Edison, frowning.
    “That's about it.”
    “But why ?”
    “To get at the bones that are beneath them.”
    Suddenly Edison's eyes widened. “Of course!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Cope and Marsh!”
    “Has every one heard of them except me?”
    “No reason why anyone out here should know the names. I'm surprised Geronimo did. I assume he's the one who told you about them?”
    Holliday nodded. “Right.”
    “Damn! This is exciting!” enthused Edison. “Come back to the hotel with me! Ned'll want to hear about this!”
    “They got any empty rooms?” asked Holliday. “I came right here from the sanitarium, and I'd been there maybe four or five months.”
    “We have a suite. If they don't have any more rooms, you can sleep on the couch in the parlor.”
    “What the hell,” said Holliday, getting to his feet, putting the cork back in the bottle, and picking it up. “I can drink there as well as here.”
    He