After another early morning departure and several hours of driving, the two immortals found themselves in front of the Billy the Kid Museum in Fort Sumner, New Mexico. They signed up for the tour at the front desk, Billy setting the Italian on the desk so that he could be seen. The woman working at the desk stared at Billy just a moment longer than was usual or polite. Billy shifted a bit under her gaze, but smiled at her nonetheless.

"Do I know you?" she asked in what Machiavelli felt was an unnecessarily accusatory voice.

"No, ma'am. Don't think so. Never been in this part of the country before," Billy said, covering his nervousness with bravado. Mac thought Billy had a lot of gall to say that with a blownup copy of the famous ferrotype on the wall behind her. "My baby boy, he loves cowboys. We came quite a way to see your museum."

She was, apparently, not impressed by his explanation but handed over two ticket stubs and indicated that they should wait for the tour to start. Billy collected Machiavelli in his arms and stood with his back to the lobby wall, lovingly rocking the little boy in his arms. A contented sigh escaped the Italian's lips, unbidden, and the Kid huffed a laugh. "Going to put you on the ground now, honey, so you don't fall asleep before the tour starts."

"Won't fall asleep," Machiavelli protested. But he leaned against the other immortal's thin frame, burying his head in Billy's abdomen.

Soon, the two immortals were joined by two older women, a fat man wearing sandals and knee length socks, a married couple, and a young mother with three boys a little younger than Machiavelli. Billy grinned happily at the youngest boy who was wearing red cowboy boots and a bandanna tied around his neck. "Nice boots," he said tapping the kid on the head as they moved aside. The boy looked at Billy's boots with wide eyes. Machiavelli picked up on this interaction and wrapped his arms around Billy's waist, effectively claiming the outlaw as his. Billy obviously didn't mind the additional affection. He hugged the Italian to him, his fingers carding through the Italian's brown locks. The tour started shortly after this unspoken interaction.

~MB~

"I can't believe you convinced me to go along with this," Billy muttered in Machiavelli's ear an hour later. He was carrying Machiavelli so that he could see over the adults' heads.

"What's the matter? You're not having fun?" Machiavelli whispered back.

Billy shrugged. "Wouldn't you find a tour of your life a bit dull? I lived through this already." He shifted the Italian slightly, easing him onto his other arm. The tiny tactician wrapped one arm around Billy's neck for safety.

The tour moved away from the reconstruction of the original Silver City jail cell that had held Billy the Kid nearly a hundred and fifty years before. Machiavelli patted his shoulder. "I liked the story about you climbing up the fireplace to escape jail. Did you really do that?" Billy nodded, and was about to speak when the tour stopped again. The outlaw looked slightly affronted, which made the Italian giggle in response.

They had stopped in front of a large blown up copy of the famous tintype. Machiavelli shushed Billy so that he could hear the tour guide speak. Billy listened in too, but looked vaguely bored with the whole experience.

"This is the only verified image of Billy the Kid in known existence," the tour guide informed the group.

"Good looking guy, huh Mac?" Billy whispered.

The tour guided continued to blather on. "Even if you could ignore those big buck teeth, it's hard not to notice how one of the outlaw's ears sticks out more than the other." Billy grimaced at her. He pulled at his ear.

"Notice the dull expression on his face," Machiavelli quipped. Billy pinched him, but he just giggled.

"If we were to go by this picture, it would be safe to say that Billy the Kid wasn't the most attractive of men," the tour guide sank lower in Billy's opinion. "He was short, only about five foot eight or nine, his eyes seemed unfocused, and he dressed sloppily." Billy snorted. The tour guide went on, unfazed. "But actually most accounts from people who met him in person have said that this was a bad picture of him. Most of those who knew him found him quite attractive, especially the ladies," the tour guide emphasized the last point especially, winking at the adults in the group.

"Well that's more like it." Billy stood a little taller.

The tour guide looked once more at the picture. She got the last say in the matter. "Yes, Billy Bonney's only unattractive feature was his big buck teeth, which had the unfortunate effect of making him look like a deranged squirrel." All the children laughed at that one. She continued. "Bonney was attractive and loveable, but had huge buck teeth."

That was too much for both the immortals. Machiavelli giggled uncontrollably and Billy pulled him to the back of the group. The Italian stuffed a fist into his mouth and tried to compose himself. "Yes, yes, very funny," Billy mumbled.

The tour continued down the museum, the guide apparently through with berating Billy's appearance for the moment. They turned the corner.

"Oh, man," Billy exclaimed. He pushed to the front of the group, pulling the European immortal with him. "How'd you get that?" he asked the tour guide, pointing to his Winchester rifle hanging on the wall. "Where'd you find it?" he mumbled.

The tour guide gave him a funny look. Billy had startled her out of her routine and it was clear that she didn't enjoy the fact. "We bought it at auction ages ago." She turned the rest of the group, her tour guide instincts kicking back in. "As you saw from Billy's tintype, the young outlaw was rarely without his rifle, this rifle. It was with him at Fort Sumner in..."

Machiavelli tugged Billy back into the group.

~MB~

"Where are we staying?" Machiavelli asked over dinner. Billy had brought them to a diner down the road. The Italian had managed to coat his fingers and face with buffalo sauce from his chicken fingers and was now shoveling mashed potatoes in his mouth.

"I'll tell you where we're not staying," Billy said firmly, wiping at Machiavelli's face with a wet nap. Machiavelli squirmed under the attention and the Kid had to grab his chin to hold his face steady. "We're not staying at Billy's Bunkhouse. The sign's insulting." He pointed across the street to a gross caricature of Billy in a nightgown, looking for all the world, exactly the way their tour guide had described him.

"I like that picture," Machiavelli mumbled around a mouth full of potatoes. He swallowed with some difficulty. "I was thinking of putting it my villa in Italy."

Billy squinted at the sign. "I wonder if I can steal it." One of the waitresses passing by gave him a startled look. He smiled charmingly at her. Machiavelli too, gave her his most winning grin. She smiled back and went into the kitchen. Both immortals dropped their grins. Billy continued on as if nothing had been said, "I don't need sleep, so I'll probably drive through the night up to a cabin I own in Montana. We'll stay there for a couple of days, maybe more. If you really like it, we can stay the summer. Sound good?"

Machiavelli hmmed happily. "Billy, am I going to be cold in the car?"

The outlaw took a few bills out of his billfold and dropped it on the table, half covering them with his drink. "No, baby, I'll put my coat over you."

"Good. Carry me?"

"Mac, we parked ten feet away." Billy pointed out their car, the only one in the lot.

"Please?"

The Kid couldn't say no to him and Machiavelli knew it. "Okay, honey." He settled the Italian immortal on his hip. "I'll carry you down the long, incredibly long path to our car." He smiled at the boy's giggles and waved to their waitress as they left. Rocking Machiavelli, he sung Springsteen songs under his breath as he settled the sleepy boy into the car and turned out onto the highway. Before long, the Italian was asleep.