“Looks like the bowl has been hand-fitted into the end of the horn, probably welded with tin or copper, possibly silver. The bowl is obviously older and far more valuable than the instrument itself. Highly unusual combination in any case, I would say.” He handed back the trumpet, took off his bifocals and slid them into the folds of his breast pocket handkerchief. “You craft it yourself?”

“You could say that.”

“Where did you learn the metal work? Trade school?”

“Never been to school as you would know it,” Jackie replied.

Doc Holliday nodded his head. “I see,” he said, glancing at Louis.

“But you’ve, at least, had some musical training,” Louis offered helpfully.

Jackie pointed at his ear. “Learned it all by ear.”

Doc Holliday said, “Then you must be very talented because your trumpet looks like it would be difficult to play.”

“Not so,” said Jackie, leaning in close. “It’s a magical horn. Plays like a dream, if you have the right touch. What’s really neat about it is the way it can heal people.”

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