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backstretch
     at Belmont Park and the trees would sway.”
    “Really?”
    Masterson smiled. “Well, they would if there were any trees there.”
    “You really don't miss being a lawman at all, do you?” asked Holliday.
    “It cost me a brother, got me shot at pretty regularly for seven years, and kept me
     broke all the time,” answered Masterson. “What do you think?”
    “Well, I'm glad you're finally happy.”
    “I hope I still am after tomorrow,” said Masterson without smiling.
    “Of course you will be,” said Roosevelt. “He sent for us.”
    “He sent for you ,” replied Masterson. “He and I are not each other's favorite people.”
    “You're staying in town,” Roosevelt reminded him.
    “Tell him, Doc,” said Masterson. “He could appear right next to you right now if he
     wanted to.”
    “From what I understand, once he and Theodore make their deal, whatever it is, we're
     all in a lot more danger from every Indian who isn't an Apache,” said Holliday.
    “I take very little comfort in that,” said Masterson.
    “Once we leave for Geronimo's lodge, go over to Tom Edison's place,” suggested Holliday.
     “You'll be safer there than anywhere else.”
    “I almost forgot!” said Roosevelt so loudly that he startled a coupleof men at the next table. “I want to meet the fabulous Thomas Edison before we leave
     town. Do you think he's available right now?”
    “He'll be in his office, which doubles as his lab,” affirmed Holliday.
    “Then what are we wasting our time here for?” demanded Roosevelt, getting to his feet.
    “Just a second,” said Holliday. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, scribbled Doc on the bottle, and carried it over to the bar, where he handed it to the bartender.
    “I don't suppose Wyatt Earp's in town?” asked Roosevelt as they walked out into the
     street.
    “Not for a couple of years,” answered Holliday.
    “How far are we from the O.K. Corral?”
    “A four- or five-minute walk,” said Holliday. “At least, at the speed I walk at.”
    “Let's stop there on the way to Edison's,” said Roosevelt.
    “Any particular reason?” asked Holliday.
    “You've no idea how famous it is, even in New York. I'd hate to be in Tombstone even
     for a day and miss the chance to see it.”
    “Or Edison,” said Holliday. “Or probably Buntline, too.” He paused. “Is there anything
     you're not enthused about?”
    “Ignorance,” answered Roosevelt. “Now, which way is the Corral?”

T HEY TRUDGED ACROSS THE FLAT , barren, featureless desert, where even the snakes and scorpions waited until dark
     to come out.
    “Let's stop for a rest,” said Holliday, reining his horse in.
    “It's got to be a hundred and twenty degrees, Doc,” said Roosevelt. “The sooner we
     get there, the sooner we can find some shade.”
    “I'm a sick man, Theodore,” said Holliday. “Either I climb down for a few minutes
     now, or I fall off in the next mile.”
    “All right,” said Roosevelt. He pointed at a shaded outcrop a few hundred yards away.
     “But let's stop there , so we can enjoy what little shade there is.”
    Holliday nodded and steered his horse toward the outcrop, dismounting and immediately
     sitting down on the ground with his back against a tree. Roosevelt considered hobbling
     the horses, decided they were too hot to run off, then squatted down, stood up, and
     repeated the process half a dozen times.
    “What the hell's wrong with you?” asked Holliday, frowning.
    “Nothing,” replied Roosevelt. “But I didn't get my running in this morning, and a
     man's got to keep fit.”
    “Just surviving in this heat ought to be enough,” said Holliday, pulling out a flask
     and taking a drink.
    Roosevelt shook his head. “A fit mind and a sloppy body are no better than a fit body
     and a sloppy mind.”
    Holliday stared at him for a long moment. “I'm surprised you didn't run here from the Badlands.”
    “If we weren't operating on such a tight schedule, I might