Doctor and the Kid, The (A Weird West Tale) (Weird West Tales) by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online Page B

woman who stood more than five feet tall.
    When they had retrieved their luggage and the coach had pulled away, Holliday looked up at the hotel. Three windows were cracked, some siding had fallen off and been rather clumsily nailed back, the building hadn't been painted or stained since it had been built and the dust and the sun had both taken their toll of it.
    “The Grand Hotel,” he read, and grimaced. “Is there a town anywhere west of the Mississippi that doesn't have a Grand Hotel, almost none of which have more than a nodding acquaintance with the concept of ‘grand'?”
    “Do I detect a Southern aristocrat beneath the scowl of the shootist?” asked Charlotte with an amused smile.
    “'Way' beneath,” came the sardonic reply. “The war buried it pretty deep.”
    “I'm sorry,” she said. “I meant no offense.”
    “None taken,” replied Holliday. He looked around. “We can stand here gathering dust all day, or we can go inside and register.”
    She nodded, he picked up his suitcase with his right hand, and was about to lift hers with his left when she beat him to it and carried her luggage inside before he could protest.
    “Got any rooms?” asked Holliday, walking up to the desk.
    “That's our business,” said the elderly clerk pleasantly. “One for you and the missus?”
    “One for each of us,” said Holliday. The clerk looked surprised, and he added, “She's a missus, but she's not my missus.”
    The clerk turned to the rack of keys behind him and pulled a pair down. “206 for the lady, 215 for the gentleman,” he announced, handing them over. “How long will you be staying?”
    “I'll be here ten days,” answered Charlotte promptly.
    “I don't know,” said Holliday.
    The clerk stared at Holliday for a long moment. “You're him , ain't you?”
    “Probably not,” replied Holliday with no show of interest.
    “You're him,” repeated the clerk, nodding his head with conviction. “You're Doc Holliday, come to town to kill someone.”
    “I'm a dentist and a gambler,” said Holliday.
    “You're Doc Holliday, and you're here on business,” insisted the clerk.
    “My business is pulling teeth and playing cards.”
    “Who are you going to kill?” asked the clerk, oblivious to Holliday's answers. “The bank president, maybe, or perhaps the mayor?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Are you working with the Kid?”
    “What kid?” asked Holliday, trying to hide his interest.
    “Why, Billy Bonney, of course!” exclaimed the clerk. “Billy the Kid! Our claim to fame!” He looked at the front door, as if he expected someone to enter and interrupt him at any moment, then turned back to Holliday and lowered his voice. “You're in cahoots with him, right?” he said conspirationally.
    “I guess I can't fool a sharpie like you,” said Holliday. “Yeah, we're partners. Where can I find him?”
    “Hell, he's your partner,” replied the clerk with a chuckle.
    “I'm new to town. I just want to let him know I'm here.”
    “The marshal and his deputies have been looking high and low for the Kid for a couple of months. If they can't find him, I sure as hell don't know where he is.”
    “That's okay,” said Holliday, forcing a nonchalant shrug. “But pass the word that I'm in town and I've got some business to discuss with him.”
    “I'll do that,” promised the clerk. “But it could be a month or more before he shows his face. That reward is up to twelve thousand dollars. There's more than a few men, including those who call themselves his friends, that'd like to put a bullet between his pale blue eyes.”
    “Thanks,” said Holliday, flipping him a quarter. “And now I think the lady and I will go to our rooms to unpack and freshen up.”
    Charlotte was again too fast for him and lifted her own luggage. He sighed, wondering how he would manage both suitcases if he had beat her to it, picked up his own, and together they climbed to the second floor. As she was unlocking her