Story Story Story

Hannibal Heyes woke with a throbbing head, and the distinct feeling that something was not quite right. He raised himself up on one elbow, and looked around, blinking to refocus his bleary eyes. He came to the conclusion that he was correct; waking up on a cot in a jail cell was not the way he would prefer to start the day.

Fortunately, he was alone. He had some vague recollection of being with his partner in a saloon the night before but that was all he could remember. One minute he'd been playing poker--winning, too, he thought--and the next, he'd woken up behind bars. How he had gotten there and where his partner was, Heyes had no idea.

He sat up, placing his feet on the cold, damp cell floor. He looked down and noticed that the hole in his right sock had grown much larger than he remembered. Worse still, the fact that he could see his socks meant that he was no longer in possession of his boots or more importantly, the picklock he kept hidden inside.

But wait, Heyes recalled with a glimmer of hope, there was always that other lockpick, the one he kept tucked beneath his hatband... A hasty exploration of both his own head (bare) and the jail cell (equally bare) served only to ratchet up the pain in his head. What had initially felt like a single annoying hammer pounding against the inside of his cranium now resembled a rather large herd of steers stampeding through his skull.

Across town, Kid Curry also stirred. Slowly he became aware of his surroundings, the smell of animals, hay and manure; the rustle of hay as he stretched his legs and the neigh of a horse. He opened his eyes to find four wooden walls around him. What the heck was he doing in a stable? He scanned the confined space. And where was Heyes?

Heyes sighed and looked around as he counted the cells. Four. He was alone and the only prisoner. "I'm in jail, my head feels like it's gonna explode, I don't have my boots and my hat is missing." He sat up very slowly and sighed with relief when the pain didn't increase. At the sound of footsteps he turned quickly and winced when the devils in his head danced with renewed vigor. Upon opening his eyes, Heyes swallowed at the stern expression on the sheriff's face as he inserted a key into the lock.
"Can't call you by your name, you were too drunk to remember it, but whatever it is, you're free to go. Just don't try any of those shenanigans in my town again or I'll lock you up and throw away the key! Here's your hat and boots, now skeedaddle!"
Heyes didn't argue, he skedaddled!

Kid Curry grabbed one of the planks of the stall and slowly pulled himself up. He grimaced and held his head. "Feels like I got trampled by a herd of cows!" he muttered. He looked around and saw his hat in the corner along with his gun. "What the..." He placed his hat on his aching head and twirled his gun back into its holster. "What happened?"

He staggered out of the dark livery and squinted in the bright sunlight, holding on to the door post with dear life so he wouldn't fall.

"Hold on there, son. where do you think yer goin'?" A grizzled man, anywhere between 50 and 60 or thereabouts, came from the side of the livery. "You owe me for sleepin' in my horse stall."

"I owe you?" Curry pushed his hat up and rubbed the back of his head which was developing what felt to him like an egg-sized lump. "I don't even know how I got here."

"Weel, all I know is you were layin' there this mornin' when I come in. I figure you owe me fer the night's sleep,but if you don't got any money you can make it up to me by helpin' my wife, Maxine count her chickens."

The Kid sighed.  "Don't seem right that I have to pay you when somebody obviously hit me over the head and dumbed me in there."  

The livery man held out his hand.  "Not my problem how you got there.  Pay up."

Curry checked his right pants pocket...nothing... His left pants pocket...nothing... Both pockets in his vest...nothing...

The proprietor tapped his foot impatiently.

Digging deep into sheepskin jacket pocket, he discovered a hole in the lining.  Curry felt around and came up with a nickel.  He shrugged and dropped the coin in the open hand.  "It's all I got."

"Guess it'll have to do."  A hand closed around the nickel.  "Now scram before I charge you with loiterin' in my establishment."

"Not so fast, mister!" Maxine snapped in a loud and firm tone. She stepped directly in front of Curry, effectively blocking his escape. "If you take one more step, I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the coop myself!"

Curry stopped obediently and eyed the woman with some trepidition. She didn't look as easy going as the farmer did. In fact, she looked quite capable of carrying out her threat without breaking a sweat.

"I, uh, well you see, ma'am, it's all a mistake -"

"The only mistake I see, is that Henry is too soft-hearted and you are worse than a lazy, good-for-nothing transient that takes advantage of poor easy-going people without a twinge of guilt, that's what I see! And I'm not about to let you get away with it this time! Follow me over to the chicken coop; we're going to find out how many chickens are there and how many are missing!"

Curry opened his mouth but Maxine had already turned and was walking briskly away. He turned to Henry in mute appeal.

Henry shook his head. "Best hurry and catch up to her, son. Nothin' makes her madder'n an ol' wet hen than to have to wait for dawdlers. "Jus' do as she says an' everything will be alright."

One...two... three... Where in the heck is Heyes?" the Kid mumbled. "Four...five... HEY, quit movin' around so! Six...seven... eight...nine...ten... There has to be dozens of chickens!"

Curry glanced behind him and saw the stern woman with her arms crossed in front of her. "Eleven...twelve...thirteen..."

"That's right, you keep counting them!" she said crossly.

The Kid turned back. "Dang it... did I count you already? One... two... three... four..."

"Whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice enquired.
Kid spun around to see Heyes grinning at him from the other side of the wooden enclosure.
"Where the heck have you been?" Kid asked as he approached the fence.
"Woke up in jail."
"Jail?" Kid's expression grew concerned.
"Apparently I was found drunk and disorderly. How 'bout you?"
"Woke up in a stable." He touched the lump on the back of his head. "I reckon someone knocked me out."
Concern covered Heyes' face. "You all right?"
"I will be. What happened after the poker game?"
"I wish I knew, Kid. I wish I knew."

"That's right, ma'am, you have forty-eight chickens." Kid Curry brushed a few feathers from his jacket.

"Are you sure? Did that man over there distract you?"

"No, ma'am. He didn't distract me and you do have forty-eight chickens." He tipped his hat with a finger. "Now if you'll pardon me..."

The Kid hurried past Heyes. "Come on; let's get outta here! Quick!"

They turned to go and were met with a pistol. "Reach for the sky, both a ya!"  The look on Henry's face told them to get their hands up. "Maxine, get over here and take their guns, these two are Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes; we just made ourselves an easy forty-thousand."

The Kid spoke up while Maxine removed the guns and padded them down. "Now Henry, I'm Thaddeus Jones and my friend here is Joshua Smith. We're...."

"No ya aint! I jus heard your friend call you 'Kid' - and now I know who you are.  Maxine, you go git the sheriff. He'll be glad to know who these two trouble makers really are."

"I heard him too!" Maxine said as she yanked both men's arms, pushed them in the chicken coup and locked the door.  Curry and Heyes realized they were standing ankle deep in ch..... sh....

Minutes later the Sheriff was locking their cell doors behind them.  The Kid sat down gloomily on the edge of one of the cell's two bunks.

“This is the second time I've been in here today,” said Heyes dejectedly.  

“Oh.”

“But only the first time I've been in here with my boots on,” he thought to himself.  Could that mean that his picklock was still inside his boot?  Had the Sheriff found and removed it?  Surreptitiously, he ran his thumb along the seam of his boot.  There it was!  Still firmly and secretly stashed away inside the seam!  Wait until tonight, thought  Heyes, and when it's dark I'll get us out of here.  

The Kid was now looking even more  depressed.  Heyes glanced at him.

“The last time we were stuck in jail together like this, he sang 'Stranger here, stranger everywhere',” he thought.

Sure enough, Heyes started singing; "I am a stranger here..." he began. Curry put his head between his hands and started moaning "Oh no, not again..."

And sure enough, the sheriff walked in.  But he didn't say 'Shut up!' The Kid looked in disbelief as the sheriff started singing along with Heyes.  And he was joined by Maxine and Henry. Together they formed a mighty chorus that drowned out Heyes awful voice.

"Aye, true words." the sheriff said at the end of the hymn. "A good Welsh hymn - one that's close to my heart."

"Ours too!" added Maxine and Henry with beaming faces.  

"What are they doing here?" Heyes asked.

"We're staying here 'til we collect our reward," Henry said. "Now let's sing another hymn; here is one that will do your prisoner hearts good." Henry started singing loudly, and Maxine and the sheriff join him.

For mercy I am seeking
For mercy still shall cry;
Deny me not Thy mercy;
O grant it or I die!

"Mercy! Mercy!" exclaimed the sheriff. "What is that terrible smell?"

"Smells like ch.... sh.... to me," said Henry.

"Where did that come from?" asked the sheriff.  

"Well, these two were in our chicken coup a'countin' chickens," said Maxine, "and it's ankle deep in ch... sh... in there."

"Wa.....!" exclaimed the sheriff, "you don't clean your chicken coup?" He looked at Heyes and Curry. "You two take off your boots, Maxine here will clean them up.  I won't have my jail smelling to high heaven."

Curry noticed Maxine get red in the face and cross her arms. "I ain't takin' those boots off; my hands will stink," he said. "Me either," said Heyes.

Get them boots off, NOW!" ordered the sheriff.

The obstinate former outlaws folded their arms and leaned against the back wall.

The sheriff pushed out his gun and cocked it. "NOW!"

Heyes and Curry quickly sat down on their perspective cots, in unison, and began taking off their boots.

"Sheesh, all you had to do is ask, Sheriff," Heyes muttered. He stood and padded over in his socking feet.

Curry handed the foul boots through the bars, "Can we have some soap to wash our hands?"

Maxine looked at Curry holding his foul boots through the bars. "I'm not warshin' those!" she said as she
glared at the sheriff.

"You brought that ch... sh... in here; you're going to wash it!" the sheriff shouted. He looked over at Henry,
"Henry, you tell your wife here to clean up those boots!"

"Ah...well....I've got some important things to do," Henry said sheepishly, "and I'll be a'levin' now."  With that, he walked out of the jail. "And I'm a'goin' too" added Maxine as she stomped out.  "It's your jail sheriff, and if you don't like ch.... sh...., you can clean it ya'self. Just make sure those two are locked up until we get our reward!"

The sheriff ran after her, "Wait! Wait!"

Curry shrugged and pulled his boots back through the bars.  Then he looked back at Heyes.

"You want to go back to counting those chickens Kid?" Heyes asked with a big grin on his face, as he pulled the lock pick out of his boot.

Outside it was rapidly getting hotter and there were fewer people about to see two dishevelled strangers ambling their horses down the main street.

As they passed the sheriff's office they were having their own disagreement.

"I still don't like it, Wheat. Calling a town 'Boot' just don't sound right - it makes me think of boot hill."

"Kyle, if you don't shut up about the name of this town, boot hill's where you'll be heading!"

The smaller of the two newcomers opened his mouth as if to protest, but at sight of the glare from his larger companion, immediately thought better of it and closed said mouth abruptly.

Wheat turned his gaze to the saloon farther down the dusty main street and said, "Let's go cut some of this trail dust from our throats, Kyle."

"But Wheat," Kyle answered, blue eyes darting toward the nearby sheriff's office, "ain't we gonna go --"

Once again the big man silenced the smaller one with merely a look.

"No we're not. Why should we?"

Kyle could name several reasons why if he had a clue as to why what. But he didn't have a clue and although he wasn't too sure about whether Wheat did have a clue as to why what they should or shouldn't he decided to go by Wheat's suggestion. It was just too darn hot to think straight, let alone to argue with Wheat. So they proceeded not to the sheriff's office but to the saloon instead.

Heyes and Kid poked their heads cautiously out the door. To their right, the sheriff was chasing Henry and Maxine down the street yelling for them to stop or he would arrest them for eluding the law. In unison they turned to their left. Both men looked as if they were poleaxed when they saw Wheat and Kyle walking into the saloon.

"I don't see nothin' but trouble no matter which direction we take, Heyes!"

Heyes nodded. "Guess we'll have to flip a coin." He pulled one from his pocket. "Heads we go right; tails we go left." He tossed it high into the air. They followed it with their eyes, first up and then down as it spiralled towards the ground. It hit the floor and rolled under the sheriff's desk.

Heyes and Kid looked at each other. "After you," Curry gestured with his hand. "I'm afraid to look."

Heyes opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it. He reached under the desk, grabbed the coin and then grabbed the Kid, dragging his partner along as he left the sheriff's office.

"What are we doin'?" asked a perplexed Kid.

"We're going to go to the saloon and find out what those two knuckleheads are doing in town. Maybe they have something to do with whoever hit us on the head and got us into this to begin with." He paused. "Of course we'll allow them buy us a couple of drinks while we listen to them." He smiled at the Kid. "We wouldn't want them to miss that opportunity."

The Kid smiled in return. "When you put it like that, partner, I'm all for it."

Heyes and the Kid hurried to the saloon, turning their heads often to see where the sheriff was. As Curry turned his head back after seeing the sheriff heading towards the livery, he found himself inches from a wall of boxes. Unable to avoid collision, he brought up his hands as a shield and closed his eyes.

Hmpt... thump... ow...

When the Kid opened his eyes again, he was on the ground with a lovely lady a few years older than him and all her packages around them.

Heyes stopped and rolled his eyes. "Thaddeus, you gotta watch where you're going!" He offered a hand to the lady. "Are you hurt, ma'am?"

The woman looked at the handsome man with blue eyes in front of her and then up to the handsome gentleman with brown eyes. She smiled. "I think so, but my packages..."

Heyes helped her up and tsked to his partner. "You heard the lady... gather her items.

Curry shook his head to stop the double vision and began collecting boxes as Heyes led the woman to a nearby bench in the shade.