The Best Rootin' Tootin' Shootin' Gunslinger in the Whole Damned Galaxy (27 page)

      
“Why, thank you, Mr. Flint,” replied Kargennian. “And just to show you there's no hard feelings about turning down the Galaheen playdate, why don't we up our bet to five thousand credits?"

      
“That's awfully rich for my blood,” said Flint. “Are you sure you're not trying to flimflam me?"

      
“Absolutely not,” said Kargennian with a predatory smile.

      
“Well, then,” grinned Flint, “in the name of friendship, I guess you've got yourself a bet."

 

 

Chapter 17

 

A world born in sickness and shame: Tombstone.

A world that lived up to its name: Tombstone.

A world that deserved no acclaim: Tombstone.

A world for the halt and the lame: Tombstone.

A world even God would disclaim: Tombstone.

A world that events overcame: Tombstone.

A world where the Fates fanned a flame: Tombstone.

A world that would soon live in fame—Tombstone!

 
—from “The Ballad of Billybuck Dancer"

 

      
You know, it really
does
look like something right out of a John Wayne movie,” remarked Flint as he and Tojo walked down the dusty frontier street. “I wonder how the hell they made the sagebrush."

      
“The Dancer must have given them a very thorough description,” agreed the little hunchback. “Look! They even have a watering trough for the horses."

      
“You don't suppose that little red bastard blew a couple of million credits on a robot horse, do you?” Flint said suddenly.

      
“I haven't seen one,” said Tojo.

      
They walked a bit farther, past the general store and the editorial offices of the Tombstone
Epitaph
and the Tombstone
Nugget
, and stopped again in front of the jail.

      
“If I didn't know better, I'd swear the Earp brothers were inside there, sitting around playing poker,” remarked Flint as he stood back and looked at the stone structure.

      
“The Dancer says that their headquarters were in some saloon,” responded Tojo. “He says that their battle was against the local sheriff and a bunch of hoodlums he was associated with."

      
“For ten years nobody could get a word out of him,” said Flint irritably. “Now all of a sudden he's a professor of history.” He wiped his forehead off with the sleeve of his shirt. “Damn! As long as they were starting from scratch, they could have picked a cooler planet."

      
“Kargennian was very pleased with this one,” said Tojo. “It has a G-type sun and only one moon, just like Earth, and the climate is very similar to Arizona's."

      
“Save it for the press,” muttered Flint. “It's hot and it's uncomfortable.” He flicked his hand at a couple of buzzing insects. “Now I remember why I never took the show to Phoenix when we were back on Earth.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. At least we're only here for two days.” He looked down at the little hunchback. “Have you figured out what you're going to wear tomorrow?"

      
“I haven't even thought about it,” admitted Tojo.

      
“Well, you'd better. You're going to be appearing in front of something like eighty billion viewers."

      
“That many?” asked Tojo, suddenly looking very nervous.

      
Flint smiled. “Would you feel better if I told you it was only fifty billion?"

      
“I'm sorry,” apologized the hunchback. “I just hadn't thought of it in those terms before.” He paused. “I suppose I'll wear my carnival uniform. After all, that's what I am—a carny barker."

      
“You'll be the flashiest guy there,” remarked Flint. “The robot wears gray, and I just know the Dancer is gonna wear those faded jeans of his."

      
“Speaking of tomorrow . . .” began Tojo hesitantly.

      
“It's taken care of,” said Flint, leaning against a wooden hitching post.

      
“Can I ask how?"

      
“As long as you keep your mouth shut,” said Flint.

      
“I will,” promised Tojo.

      
“We're running a ringer."

      
“A second robot?” asked the hunchback.

      
Flint nodded. “I'll make the switch tonight."

      
“Isn't that cutting it awfully close?"

      
“Not really,” replied Flint, lighting up a cigarette. “Besides, this way we don't have to program it to go through all those damned interviews. Kargennian's got this place as busy as Super Bowl week.” He mimicked the reporters' voices. “What does Billybuck eat for breakfast? How many teeth did Doc Holliday pull in his career? Why doesn't the Dancer ever practice? Why didn't we give the robot tuberculosis? Jesus—if they could, they'd go to Earth and ask the Dancer's parents where they bought him his first cap pistol!"

      
“They
do
ask some pretty silly questions, don't they?” said Tojo with a smile.

      
“That's the problem with a gunfight or a boxing match or anything else like that. They can find out everything they need to know in five minutes, and then they've got to start interviewing third cousins and family doctors to justify the money their publishers and networks are spending on them."

      
“Getting back to the robot,” said Tojo, “do you know how to activate it?"

      
“Yeah. Borilliot showed me how. You use six words in combination, just like with the other robot."

      
“How will you know you're activating the right one?” persisted Tojo.

      
“Different code words.” He rattled them off, and Tojo nodded.

      
“They're different from the ones Jiminy and I used,” said the hunchback.

      
“I just hope it works." Flint looked up the street and saw the Dancer walking toward them. “Isn't he supposed to be doing a last set of interviews?” he asked.

      
“I thought so,” agreed Tojo.

      
“Hey, Thaddeus!” called the Dancer when he was about fifty yards away.

      
“Yeah. What is it?"

      
“We got a real serious problem,” said the sharpshooter, covering the last few steps on the run.

      
“Oh?"

      
“You just walked down Fourth Street,” said the Dancer, obviously agitated.

      
“Didn't you see it?"

      
“See what?” asked Flint.

      
“Come on,” said the Dancer, heading back up the street. “I'll show you."

      
Flint ground his cigarette out on the dirt, then fell into step behind the Dancer and Tojo. They walked for perhaps two hundred yards and stopped in front of a colorful barroom.

      
“There it is,” said the Dancer.

      
“Looks like a tavern to me,” said Flint impassively. “It probably has a few gambling tables, and rents the upstairs rooms by the hour. So what?"

      
“
So what
?” repeated the Dancer. “It's the Long Branch Saloon!"

      
“Okay,” said Flint. “It's the Long Branch Saloon. I still don't see the problem."

      
“It belongs in Dodge City!” exclaimed the Dancer, looking as if he might burst into tears any second.

      
“You're sure?” said Flint. “I mean, they wouldn't have put it here if you hadn't told Borilliot about it."

      
“I told him about it when I was telling him about when Doc and Wyatt Earp were just starting out. It doesn't belong here."

      
Flint grimaced. “I don't know how to tell you this, Dancer,” he said, “but this place isn't really Tombstone and this world isn't really Earth. So what the hell difference does it make if a bar from Kansas wandered over to Arizona? I won't tell anyone if you won't."

      
“But they were supposed to do it the way I told them!” complained the Dancer. “It's just
wrong
!"

      
“It's a little late to tear it down and build a new one,” said Flint. “Why don't you just learn to live with it?"

      
“Can't we even change the sign?"

      
Flint shook his head. “All the construction people are gone."

      
“Well,” muttered the Dancer, “I don't like it, and
Doc
won't like it neither."

      
“I'll make you a deal,” said Flint. “If
he
complains too, I'll change the damned sign myself."

      
“You mean it?"

      
Flint nodded.

      
“Thanks, Thaddeus,” said the Dancer, heading off for his interview.

      
“He's a little crazier than usual these days, isn't he?” remarked Flint, watching the sharpshooter's slender figure kicking up clouds of dust as he turned east toward the video studio on Third Street.

      
“He'll be all right after he fights the robot,” said Tojo.

      
“I sure as hell hope so,” replied Flint. “If he comes up to me tomorrow afternoon and tells me he still wants hotter competition I just might take him on myself."

      
“A lot of people would pay to see that."

      
“You think so?"

      
Tojo smiled. “Most of them work for you."

      
Flint returned his smile. “You'd probably bark that one for free, wouldn't you, you ugly little dwarf?"

      
Tojo shook his head. “I've learned a lot from you. I don't do anything for free anymore."

      
Flint chuckled and began retracing his steps. “Has Kargennian told you where you're going to be tomorrow?” he asked as they passed between the bank and the feed store.

      
“Yes,” said the hunchback. “I'll be sitting on the chair right outside the sheriff's office. I guess the Dancer will start from the O.K. Corral, and the robot will come out of one of the saloons. The video technicians will be hidden all over the place so they can shoot the fight from every possible angle, and the members of the carny crew who want to watch will be in the Long Branch. I guess that's why they put so many windows into it."

      
Flint looked up and down the street. “I think I'll watch from the general store. It looks like it'll have a better view."

      
“It all depends where they finally stop,” said Tojo. “But I think they're going to have a cameraman in the store."

      
“Then he'll have some company,” said Flint firmly. “By the way, what are those white blocks leaning against the side of the livery stable."

      
“I don't know,” replied the hunchback, looking where Flint indicated. “I didn't see them before."

      
Flint walked over to the stable, followed by Tojo, and soon stood in front of a pair of granite tombstones.

      
“I guess we're prepared for all eventualities,” he said dryly.

      
“
Billybuck Dancer, born 1958, died 1987
,” read Tojo.

      
“Read the other one,” said Flint in an amused tone.

      
“
Doc Holliday, born 1852, died 1887. Born again 1987, died 1987
.” Tojo looked up. “It sounds eerie."

      
“Think of what some exploration team from Earth will think when they stumble across it a few thousand years from now,” replied Flint with a smile.

      
Tojo stared at the headstones for another minute, then turned to Flint. “I'm going to go back to the ship,” he announced. “I don't know why, but these things make me nervous."

      
Flint gave them one last glance. “I'll come with you. It's too goddamned hot to be walking around in the sun. I don't know how Arizonans get through the day."

      
They turned back onto Fourth Street and started walking toward the ship, which was about half a mile distant.

      
“Hold on a minute,” said Flint, ducking into the general store and emerging a moment later with a piece of licorice. He tore it in half and held out a piece for Tojo. “Want some?"

      
“No, thank you."

      
He shrugged, put it into his pocket, and bit into the other piece.

      
“Shit!” he muttered, spitting it out onto the dirt.