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Ermahgerd, was that book ever dull. I mean boring to the boringth degree! The writing is fine, if stark, but simply nothing happens. It's all talk, talk, talk—let me describe these anachronistic inventions to you, invitations to drinks and meals, greetings, threats and 'I'm not afraid to die' or 'I'm already dying' quips—talk, talk, talk and very little actual doing, even less actual narrative and/or development. I suppose Resnick figured we all know who Earp, Holliday and Ringo are so no need to develop their character. And the poor women, they aren't even alive if you judge by their characterization, just faceless whores that range from wholly human, half-human or not human. But they're all pretty interchangeably unimportant. Ugh. My library has two more of this series, but I won't be bothering with them.