The Doctor and the Rough Rider by Mike Resnick Page A

how many oppose you?” continued Holliday.
    “Perhaps thirty-five, perhaps forty.”
    “And you think with Theodore on your side, you can beat them?”
    “Theodore?” asked Geronimo, frowning.
    “Roosevelt,” said Holliday.
    “It will take more than him,” said Geronimo.
    “What or who else will it take?” asked Roosevelt.
    “Edison and Buntline,” answered the Apache.
    “What will you want them to do?”
    Geronimo shrugged. “It depends on what the other nations do.”
    Roosevelt shook his head. “We need a better strategy than to just sit here waiting
     for them to strike first.” He turned to Holliday. “Doc, you've got to have a lot of
     friends who are good with guns.”
    Holliday smiled a bittersweet smile. “I have never had a lot of friends.”
    “Then we'll recruit them.”
    “To face the warriors of fifty-five Indian nations?” asked Holliday in amused tones.
    “There have to be alternatives.” He turned to Geronimo. “You didn't send for me just
     so I'd be an easier target for your enemies. What do you have in mind?”
    “I chose right,” said Geronimo, nodding his head in satisfaction. “I sent for you
     to make sure you had not changed since you first came to me in a vision three years
     ago, that you were still the man best fit to lead your nation across the river, and
     to make peace with my nation.”
    Roosevelt looked at him expectantly, and finally the old man continued.
    “I will show you what you must eventually face, Roosevelt.”
    “Eventually?”
    “They are still learning how to control it,” said Geronimo. “Little do they know that
     it cannot be controlled, only aimed like a rifle or an arrow.”
    Roosevelt frowned. “I'm not sure I understand.”
    “I will show you.”
    Geronimo closed his eyes and uttered a chant. Roosevelt tried to follow it, but though
     he had studied the Apache language, most of the words were unfamiliar to him.
    Then, suddenly, a naked warrior with bright red skin, perhaps two feet high, stood
     on the ground between them. Roosevelt leaned forward and studied him. His red face
     was almost that of a skeleton's, but it was somehow capable of expression, and right
     now it was frowning and glowering. His arms were as long as an ape's, and ended not
     in hands or paws, but in flames.
    “What is it?”
    “The man Edison would call it a test model,” answered Geronimo.“It is a creation of my rivals and your enemies. It has a name, but you cannot pronounce
     it. The closest approximation is War Bonnet.”

    “And this is what the other tribes are sending against us?” asked Roosevelt.
    “That is correct.”
    “I could smash his head with my pistol right now,” offered Holliday. “Or put a bullet
     through it.”
    “This is not War Bonnet,” said Geronimo, “but merely what he will look like.”
    Roosevelt reached out for the image, and his hand passed right through it. “If that's
     the worst they can do, I don't think we've got much to worry about,” he said.
    “As I said, it is only a model. This is what the true War Bonnet will look like when
     they are done with him.” Geronimo muttered another chant, and suddenly the image of
     War Bonnet began growing taller and broader, the flames that were his hands become
     longer and brighter, his skeleton's face grew more fearsome, and when he finally reached
     his full height the top of his head towered some twelve feet above the ground.
    “Interesting,” commented Roosevelt.
    “He is not just a giant, but will have powers even I cannot guess at,” added Geronimo.
    “He's a couple of feet taller than the biggest grizzly I've ever seen.”
    “And mighty few grizzlies can reach out and set you on fire,” added Holliday.
    “Will he be able to shoot those flames like arrows?” asked Roosevelt.
    “Almost certainly,” answered Geronimo.
    “And he'll have other powers too?”
    Geronimo nodded. “Many.” He paused. “I will make him vanish now.”
    “No,” said Roosevelt,