September 18 - A day early...

Lovely ones.

Yes, yes I know... Thirty days hath September, April, June and Cold November... etc
And this ain't one of them

BUT
I am disappearing on a long weekend and so am putting in the Challenge marker a day early.

So, I thought ...
Your challenge can be:


A Day (Too) Early

Let the creativity - pause - and begin again tomorrow

Just bipping this one to top :)

They were one day early so they took their time. Dr. Albus’s Great Medicine Show drove with moderate speed over the dry land. The colorful wagon was covered with dust.

The "Founder’s Day" in Darlington would start at the 25th of the month and it was always a ticklish timeframe to hit a town quite right. The annual festival was celebrated for several days and included a farmer’s market and kermis. The folks from remote farms would not join the event before Saturday and build a solid base for his business.

Marty Callahan, alias "Dr. Albus" always made a narrow schedule for his visits at that sort of event. He scratched his almost bald head and thought it over again. With their current speed they needed about two days to reach their destination. Today was Tuesday and he didn’t intend to arrive before the early hours on Friday.

If they would arrive too late, the best places for business would already be occupied by somebody else. But if they’d be there too early, they might miss the best business that was expected for the weekend. His experience told him, that is was never a good idea to stay longer than two or three days in one place.

It took some time - but never very long - until someone shouted “charlatan” and wanted his money back. That was almost always the signal to start a witch-hunt. It was always a great attraction for townsfolks, but Marty wasn’t keen to find himself in the position of the hunted.

Why did people always believe that “guarantee” meant to revoke a good deal just because they were not satisfied with the result?

Sure, he guaranteed that his hair tonic truly did wonders - just like almost all of his medicines - but well, when had it ever been heard that wonders happened every day?

Lucille, scolded him for his practices every time again. She was his new assistant since he left Atlanta, where he had restocked his supplies and ingredients.

His previous assistant Mary-Lou, a beautiful brunette, had used their winter break to find her a husband and get pregnant, not in this order though, and left the business shortly before he planned to start his tour westwards. In his line of business an assistant was indispensable!

A pure coincidence had crossed his path with Lucille Chandler’s and if he had been a religious man he would thank God on his knees for it every single day. He had literally bumped into her when she was rushing out of the train station, complaining loudly about the exorbitant prices.

She was a woman in her 40s, still good-looking and resolute. He had recognized her potential the moment he saw her. She accepted his apology and joined him for dinner. During the evening he learned, that her husband had died and she planned to move to her daughter in San Diego.

Lucille’s husband had been a well-known doctor in town. He had not only a lot of experience, but a heart for the poor. He treated them without any payment and he even donated food now and then. Lucille had loved him for that and always supported him. That she now was almost impecunious, too ... well, they both had not thought that far, thinking they would still have time to save money for themselves. It wasn’t important before the tragic accident happened, that took her husband away.

It turned out, that she was not only good in dealing with customers, she also was more than capable to keep the loud-mouthed reined in. And she had a lot of experience in nursing and medicine making, too. Marty had been delighted when he expanded his range of goods with her syrups and powders. And best of all – they worked. He never got any complaints about her remedies.

Marty turned his head and looked at his blonde companion. “Lucille, why don’t we stop early for the night?”

“Sure, why not? But it doesn’t seem there’s any water around here.”

“The keg is almost full and tomorrow morning we will find a well, when I recall it right. There could be a good place to rest.” He pointed forward towards stony structures not far aside their trail.

“You’re the boss,” she nodded towards him and shrugged. He answered her with a smile.

She wasn’t as young and enchanting as his previous assistants, but she was so much more than those girls ever had been. Lucille would have made a great business partner, if she only would be willing to stay with him in long term. But she had never made pretense of her opinion about his practices.

Marty sighed and led the horses towards the rocks while he followed his own thoughts.


When they arrived at the foot of the cliffs, they found an acceptable resting place. Some bushes held back the wind and provided food for the horses. The place seemed frequently used and there were pretty fresh tracks around here Marty noticed when he stepped into a couple of road apples. Fresh, definitely!

While Marty built camp, Lucille left him to find a remote place for her ... necessities. It was almost dark now and he didn’t like the thought of her being out of sight. Oddly enough he thought about her much too often lately.

He was just about to set the kettle on the fire when he heard her scream.

Instantly he was up and about. The iron kettle still in his hand he followed her along the small path towards the cliffs. He turned around a bend and almost bumped into two shades.

“Hold it right there!” a strong voice called him.

Marty froze.

He noticed a sturdy figure about one head taller than himself, wearing a cowboy hat and a gun at the ready.

Marty choked hard and raised the kettle in his hand, the only weapon he had. Under his breath he cursed himself that he never made it a habit to arm himself.

“Hands off the lady, mister! Leave her be or you’ll regret it!”

The light was too dim too see details but something in the stranger’s stance relaxed. Maybe he was more menacing than he expected, Marty thought, not sure how the sight of a balding, chubby man in his late-forties, armed with a kettle might have impressed him.

“There’s nothing to fear for you. Just leave this place and move on,” the stranger told them.

Lucille moved slowly backwards until she reached Marty’s side.

“We will,” he said.

“We won’t!” she objected strictly. “It’s too dark to drive the wagon any further.”

A short shimmer of white teeth told Marty about the stranger’s smile.

“What do you suggest?”

“Can we just ... agree, to keep away from each other?” Lucille offered.

“Can we trust each other?” the stranger asked.

Lucille just stared meaningfully at the gun. Marty was speechless.

Silence spread.

Moments later the gun was uncocked.

“I have to apologize. I must have scared you, ma’am,” the stranger said and took off his hat. “My name is Thaddeus Jones. I won’t do you any harm.”


Together they walked over to the campsite.

In the firelight Marty noticed that the stranger was much younger than expected. He looked dusty and strained, but he had a handsome face and bright blue eyes. Blond curls poked out under the brown hat. Marty didn’t like the way Lucille’s features softened when she looked at him.

The salesman refilled the kettle with water and set it on the fire while Thaddeus Jones examined the wagon. He turned around and lifted his brows.

“A Medicine Show?” he asked. “Are you really a doctor?”

“Yes!” Marty answered and puffed himself up.

“NO!” Lucille cut him off and shot him a glance. “No, he isn’t. Why do you ask?”

Thaddeus fell silent, obviously trying to judge the couple he was facing.

“Ma’am, I need help. A friend of mine is hurt, seriously. I can’t leave him alone and we can’t stay without supplies.”

He paused.

“I ... hoped for your help, maybe you could sell me some food and water...”

“Where?” Lucille asked.

“Ma’am?”

“Where is he? Your friend?”

“Not far away.”

“Let me see him!”

“Why?”

“Maybe I can help him.”

The blond man glanced at her and nodded then.

“Please, follow me.”

He turned around and strode back towards the cliffs.


They reached a small cave and close to the entrance Lucille noticed the body of a man on the ground. Someone had tried to make it as comfortable as possible for him, but stony ground and a few blankets were not the best conditions to build on.

The sight of the man lying there made her gasp for air. It took just a moment before she had gathered herself again, stepped a little closer and knelt down beside the dark-haired stranger.

“I’ve seen worse,” the told nobody in particular, “when the Unionists hit Atlanta and burned it down. There’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

Cautiously she examined the tormented body, gently touched shoulder and face, stroked the thick bangs back and felt for his temperature. The injured man showed no response.

“I need more light. And hot water! He can’t stay here. We have to move him to the wagon.”

“Haven’t you seen him? We can’t move him!” Thaddeus blurted out.

“We have to! Or we could just leave him here to die.” She answered harshly. “It’s up to you!”

She met the eyes of the blond man and held his gaze for long moments.

“You’re worried and you have reason for it,” she told him softly. “I can’t promise you anything, just that I’ll do my best. But I need him at the wagon!”

Thaddeus turned his head and looked down to his friend. His features smoothened and a warm glance showed up in his eyes.

“What’s his name?” Lucille asked quietly.

A short smile flashed over his face, like he remembered something long ago, before he answered. “Joshua.”

He met her eyes again, heaved a deep breath and nodded.

“We’ll do it your way.”

Marty hitched up the horses again and drove the wagon as close as possible towards the cave. It was no easy task on the dark, narrow path.

Thaddeus and Lucille had returned to the makeshift sickbed and prepared Joshua for his transport.

They had quickly combined two wooden boards which they lay close to him on the ground now. Each of them picked up two corners of the blankets under Joshua, lifted him up and let him cautiously down onto the boards.

When Marty arrived with the wagon, he met them at the cave. With combined efforts they lifted the boards and carried Joshua carefully to the vehicle.

They eased him down in Lucille’s bed, which was more comfortable than the cot Marty usually used since they travelled together.

As cautiously as possible Marty drove the wagon back to the campsite. The trail was hard and bumpy and Thaddeus was close to punishing the bald man for every pot hole he hit. Each time a low groan told them that Joshua felt the pain, the shocks must have caused him, but he didn’t open his eyes.

When they eventually reached their destination, Lucille began to pick up several cups and cans and a leather wrapper that contained a set of shiny tools like fancy eastern doctors used them. Thaddeus sat on the edge of the bed and watched her, surprised how self-confidently she handled the situation, at least until she tried to throw him out of the wagon.

“You have to leave now, Thaddeus.”

“No.”

“That was no question!”

“You’re right. It is no question and I will stay!” he countered. Blue eyes locked with gray ones, tried to stare each other down.

Another painful sound from the bed broke the spell. Immediately Thaddeus turned around, touched his friend’s hand and focused his eyes on him. The worry and affection Lucille noticed in his glance told her everything she had to know.

“You will stay from under my feet and do what I say!” she told him. “For now, sit down by his head and tell me if you notice any change of his condition.”

He didn’t even look at her but shifted closer towards the headboard. She smiled and shook her head.

“I guess, you took care of his injuries. So, tell me what have you done and why...”

Deliberately she examined the injuries in-depth before she began with his treatment...


Two hours later Marty was a nervous wreck.

Well, in some way he was in the health business for a long time and he really wasn’t squeamish, but some of the noises he had heard tonight he never wanted to hear again.

Several times he was about to enter the wagon but he always held himself back. Truth be told he knew for himself, that he wouldn’t be of any help.

Finally, Lucille left the wagon. She looked pale and tired and her dress was smeared with blood and worse.

Marty shot her a concerned glance. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, Marty,” she said slowly. “I did, what I could do. I’m not sure it was enough.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and nodded gratefully towards her employer.

“Poor man. So young, so handsome. I don’t know what comes over people sometimes to do those things to each other... And we’re not even in a war anymore! What might he have done to deserve this?”

Marty laid his arm around her shoulders.

“You know that we not always get what we deserve, Lucille. If there is any plan, I gave up trying to understand it long ago. Maybe we’re just not meant to know that sort of things.”

He paused.

“What about him?” he nodded towards the wagon.

“He will stay with him. No sense in talking it out of him. And maybe he’s right. I’ve seen a lot in those days long ago...” her voice trailed off. “Maybe it makes the difference. At least it will make a difference for him.”

She looked up and met Marty’s eyes.

“Would you be so nice to bring him some coffee and a bowl of stew? He’ll be grateful and so am I. Thanks, for taking care of us.”

Marty lowered his eyes and smiled a bit contritely while he filled two bowls.

“Don’t think, I’m hard-hearted because of my way of life.”

“You’re not. I know.”

She smiled at him and followed him with her eyes when he headed for the wagon with a filled bowl in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Her smile broadened as she watched his clumsy attempts to open the door before he finally managed it without spilling all of the food he carried.


It became a long night for Kid Curry. He had been grateful for the meal and even more for the coffee Marty had served him.

He had settled down beside Heyes again, always in touch, always alert.  His shoulders leaned against the headboard, his left hand lay on his partner’s chest. Now that nothing else was left to do, he was reading to him, hoping he would hear him, listen him, stay with him.

The Kid had asked Lucille for a book and she lent him one: "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn". A pretty good choice, not only Heyes liked the novels of Mark Twain. This one was new for both of them.

Regularly, he took breaks to care for his partner, cooled the hot skin and instilled the bitter smelling tea in him, which Lucille had brewed some time ago.

Heyes lay still again after all the tortures he had to endure tonight. Much too still, just breathing low, almost unnoticeable. But his heart still beat...


It was dark.

The pain was so hard he couldn’t feel it anymore. But he knew it was there, just waiting for a moment of inattention to return.

The abyss still called him. He walked its edge, about to let go, over and over again.

But he was there, pulled him back. Every single time.

His warmth, his voice, his touch.

And so, Heyes withstood the temptation, fought it.

And returned.


It was close to morning, the sun about to rise, when Heyes got restless. He started to stir, trying to move, his eyes still closed. In a blink Kid Curry was up and about, his own weariness quickly scared away.

“Lucille!”

His call alerted the healer and immediately she was at his side. She shoved him aside and checked on the injured man, searching a reason for his restlessness. His desperation increased.

Suddenly his eyes tore open, beautiful brown eyes, filled with horror and pain.

He tried to focus, obviously disoriented. His searching eyes just glanced over her.

She spoke to him, tried to calm him down, but he did not even notice her.

Finally, his eyes found their target. Blue eyes and brown eyes locked. A single light appeared inside them and Joshua simmered down again.

Lucille released the breath she still held. Cautiously she continued her examination.

When she was finished she straightened up again, turned towards Thaddeus, gave him a smile and nodded.

Joshua was on the mend.


Finally, all of them found rest. It wasn’t important that the sun stood already high on the sky.

The two cowboys still occupied the wagon, both sleeping soft and sound the last time Lucille had checked on them.

Marty had built makeshift beds in the shadow of the vehicle where they eased themselves down now.

“Lucille, you know, it’s good that we were one day early.”

The blonde sighed. “One could say, we were just in time. I’m sorry, you’ll miss the fair now.”

Marty shrugged. “It’s all right. There will be other fairs.”

After a while he added “You know, sometimes I think, I’m wrong. There’s gotta be a plan...”

Ruthless editing brought this down to 2,991 words.

--------------------------------
“Five dollars a night? For one room? Are you kiddin’ me?” Hannibal Heyes’ voice rose in disbelief.

The desk clerk was not intimidated by the dark-haired cowboy.

“No, sir. It’s not just a room. It’s a suite, very comfortable, with bath, and full breakfast. The price is very reasonable for what you get.”

“I bet. You’re sure that’s the only room available?”

“Absolutely, sir. Except the Presidential Suite. That’s ten dollars.”

Heyes took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh, creating a cloud of dust. The clerk sniffed disapprovingly but said nothing.

“I can’t believe every other room’s taken.” He pointed a gloved finger at the cubbyholes lining the wall behind the clerk, all but a few containing keys. “It looks like most of the rooms are available.”

The clerk shook his head. “No, sir. Every room in town’s reserved for the reunion. Many guests are arriving tomorrow morning. If you hadn’t come a day early, the Continental Suite would’ve been gone, too. The inexpensive rooms always go first. There’s no lodging available anywhere, unless it’s sleeping in the stable with your horses.”

Heyes put his hat back on. “I got to talk to my partner first.”

“Of course, sir.”

Jed Curry was waiting at the hotel’s hitching post with the horses.

“Oh, no. I know that look. They’re full, aren’t they?”

“Almost. Cheapest room they got is a suite for five dollars.”

“A suite?” Curry’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Is breakfast included?”

“I should’ve known you’d ask that. Yes, breakfast is included, and baths.”

Curry turned away and started unbuckling his saddlebags. “That’s all I need to know. For once, we’re flush, and we got more’n enough to cover the cost. I ain’t sleeping rough one more night.”

“Fine.” Heyes went to get his saddlebags. “At least I can rely on you to get our money’s worth at breakfast.”

“You’ll need five dollars’ worth of soap just to get that trail dust off you. Besides, that next job you lined up for us sounds like a humdinger. I want to rest up before we go to Austin.”

The clerk looked up in surprise as the cowboy returned, with an equally dusty and dirty companion.

“We’ll take the Continental Suite,” Heyes said. “Just for tonight.”

“A wise decision, sir, given the circumstances. The five dollars is payable in advance.”

“Figures.” Heyes looked at Curry, who only smiled benignly and flipped the register open. Heyes grudgingly reached inside his vest to extract coins.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Here are your keys. Your horses are out front, yes? I’ll have a boy take them around to our stable. Their care is included as well. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay. By the way, all are welcome at the reunion, even strangers like yourselves. It’s sure to be an enriching experience.”

Curry looked up from signing his name. “What reunion is that? Family?”

“In a way, yes. Every year, the First Baptist Church holds a 3-day reunion and revival for all its members who’ve moved away. They call it a family reunion. That’s why the town’s sold out.”

“The whole town? Sheesh. Must be a lot of people coming for this shindig.”

“This hotel is completely booked, save for the suites, and all the other lodging in town is full, too, except maybe rooms at the saloon. Not too many Baptists go there.”

“At least, not when other Baptists might see them,” Heyes said.

When the men entered their suite, they dropped their saddlebags on the floor and stared at the luxurious surroundings.

“Reminds you of the old days, don’t it, Kid?”

“Sure does. Spending money like water and enjoying the high life. Got to say, I miss that part of it.”

“Thanks to a decent job that actually paid us, we can enjoy that high life tonight before we head south. I admit I wasn’t looking forward to another night sleeping under the stars either. Before we get those baths and go for dinner, I’d like a whiskey, followed closely by another whiskey.”

Curry put a companionable hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Now that’s my kind of Hannibal Heyes plan. Lead the way, partner.”

The nearest saloon was only a five-minute walk from the hotel. “Convenient,” Heyes noted. “A man can’t get too lost after a late night.”

Only a few tables were occupied. No one was seated at the bar except the bartender, who was idly reading a newspaper. He looked up at the sound of the squeaking doors.

“Welcome to the Iron Rail. How about some liquid refreshment to wash away that trail dust?”

Heyes grinned. “Now that’s the kind of hello I like from a barkeep. Two whiskies, in clean glasses.”

The man folded his newspaper and got up. “That’s the only way we serve drinks here. This is a high-class place.”

Curry looked around at the dingy tables, the piles of dust accumulated on the uneven plank floor, and the lurid paintings faded by years of cigar smoke. “Don’t pay my friend no never mind. He wasn’t brought up proper like me.”

The bartender served up two glasses. He pointed towards a shelf of whiskey bottles. “How fancy you boys feeling today?”

“Something in the middling range. My mama told me not to put on airs.”

“Your mama was a wise woman. Kentucky bourbon ordinary enough for you?”

“Always.” Full glasses in hands, Heyes and Curry touched their glasses together with a gentle “clink” before sipping.

“You own this place?” Heyes asked the bartender.

“That I do. Lock, stock, and barrel. Name’s Fred Bleeker.”

Heyes pointed to himself. “Joshua Smith, and this proper man next to me is Thaddeus Jones.”

Bleeker snorted in mild disbelief. “You ain’t Baptists, are you?”

“Not recently,” Curry said. “Why?”

“You might want to buy yourselves a bottle. Might be harder to get a drink once the reunion gets rolling. Some of the church ladies are all for this new-fangled temperance movement, and they got the idea it’s their job to make it hard for the rest of us to enjoy a drink.”

“I’ve heard of this temperance business,” Heyes said. “The Women’s Christian Temperance Movement, ain’t it? They got some crazy idea to shut down saloons because – well, I ain’t sure why precisely – but they don’t want anybody to sell alcohol.”

“That’s it. They’re saying they want a full prohibition on sales of beer and whiskey and everything good. That’d put me out of business. You ever hear of such a crazy thing?”

“Not lately. How could they put you out of business?”

“They stand out in front and preach and sing.”

Heyes and Curry looked at each other, puzzled. “That ain’t illegal. Is it?”

“No, it ain’t illegal, but it sure ain’t good for business. That’s why I say, buy a bottle to take with you, unless you’re fine with pushing through a picket line of church ladies."

“Yeah, I see how that might be a problem for a decent man who’s got a powerful thirst,” Heyes said.

“And we are definitely decent, law-abiding people,” Curry added, earning a sideways glare from his partner.

“How do these ladies feel about poker?”

Bleeker snorted, loudly this time. “Games of chance? What do you think?”

“I think, maybe they don’t like that either.”

“You think right. I talked to the sheriff about making them move, but he says, they’re just exercising their constitutional rights. I say, why can’t they exercise them rights away from my front door? Men got to have someplace to go and relax.”

“Amen to that,” Heyes said. “On that subject, how about a refill, Fred?”

“You got it.” He got the bottle to pour but froze in mid-motion, holding the bottle in mid-air. “Oh no.”

Heyes and Curry looked around, alarmed. Their hands rested on their guns. “What is it?”

Fred put the bottle down with a thud. “Just what I was telling you, boys. Looks like the show’s about to start.”

Both men turned to look. Two women stood outside the swinging doors.

Curry turned back to the bar. “You mean they’re going to start singing?”

“And block the door. Damn it all! Ain’t they got nothing better to do than ruin my business?”

More female faces appeared, crowding together on the sidewalk. The bar patrons who’d been drinking peacefully at their tables staggered to their feet.

“Tell you what, Fred. We’ll take that bottle and thank you. Is there a back way out?”

“In a saloon? Are you kiddin’ me? I got two back ways out.”

Heyes threw some coins on the counter. “Maybe we’ll use those back ways to come in later, if there’s a female picket line out in front. We were hoping to play some poker after we eat.”

Fred’s grin showed the gaps between his brown teeth. “With any luck, those ladies will go home to make dinner for their families, and we can get back to serving liquor here without no show out front. Problem is, there ain’t no telling’s what’s gonna happen once they get started.”

“Nope, I guess not.” Fred guided the men through a door behind the bar, along with the few remaining drinkers, and they found themselves in an alley where the small group dispersed.

“Let’s get out of here while the getting’s good,” Heyes said, tucking the bottle under his arm.

“You go ahead,” Curry told him. “I want to get a look at the show.”

“Are you crazy? We’re the kind of men they’re preaching against.”

“I want to see how many come. Maybe it ain’t so bad as Fred says. Anyway, why’re you arguing with me? If I stay here, it means you get the first bath.”

“Can I help it if I’m concerned about the welfare of my partner? Alright, I’m going. Don’t be too late. I’m gonna need some nourishment soon.”

“Not a chance.” As Heyes went right, Curry went left, circling around to the street in front of the saloon.

The group on the sidewalk blocking the saloon’s swinging doors didn’t look troublesome. He saw six women, dressed simply and modestly in gingham dresses and large bonnets that obscured their faces. Each one carried what he assumed was a Bible. Passers-by walked around them without a second glance. He leaned against a hitching post, preparing to wait and see what developed. One stout woman dressed all in black raised her hands, trying to get the group’s full attention. She took papers from the back of her Bible, and gave each woman a page, which they all studied intently. Then she took out some round thing and made a musical tone on it. The ladies all tried to hum in tune with the note. Curry crossed his arms and tried to get comfortable.

The leader waved her hand and counted down to four. The six women started singing, with more enthusiasm than skill, something about demon rum and rescuing lives. When the chorus repeated “lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine” a few times, Curry got restless. He looked around and saw a few people in the street stopping to watch and listen for a moment, then apparently lose interest almost as quickly as he had done.

The song went on for a few more off-key verses. When it ended, a few passers-by applauded listlessly, earning exasperated looks from the women. Curry crossed his arms and watched the group start to split up. He imagined Fred Bleeker would be happy that this interruption to his business had been brief.

He stood up and dusted off the seat of his pants. He thought maybe he’d go for a walk around the town, check out the sheriff’s office and scout paths out of town, should they need to make a quick exit.

Suddenly, he felt someone was watching him. He turned around slowly, trying to appear calm, but all semblance of calm left him when he saw her startled expression and big brown eyes that widened with surprise. She clutched her Bible close to her chest, as if for protection.

He felt his jaw drop, then closed his mouth self-consciously. Mimicking her pose, he took off his hat and held it against his chest.

“Hello, Grace. Fancy meeting you here.” He watched the play of emotions wash over her face, passing too quickly for him to interpret. She walked towards him, slowly.

“Hello, Thaddeus.” The shy smile he remembered appeared. “Are you here for the reunion? It doesn’t really start until tomorrow.”

“No, me and Joshua are just here for the night.” He walked up to meet her.

“Oh. I see. You’re a day early, anyway.”

“That’s different for us. We’re usually a day late and a dollar short.” She laughed, as he’d hoped she would do.

“What’re you doing here, Grace? Thought you were going back to Boston.”

She nodded. “I was. The stage was delayed here for a few days, and I got to meet some people from the Baptist church. They’re doing so much good here, Thaddeus!” Words started to rush out of her. “They’re running a program for unfortunate women, helping them to leave their work in saloons and the like. And the temperance movement I’m involved with helps dipsomaniacs give up alcohol and recover their lives. I was so impressed by all the good works happening here! I felt God brought me here to do his work. I decided to stay and fulfill my mission here.”

“You’re not preaching, are you?”

She laughed again, more robustly this time. “No, Thaddeus. I learned my lesson. I can do God’s work in different ways. I was blessed to find that out.” She looked him full in the face, all shyness gone. “I know I promised you I’d go to Boston. I hope you can forgive me for not following through with my promise.”

“There ain’t nothing to forgive.” He bent lower, almost whispering to her. “Are you happy, Grace?”

She looked away, not willing to meet his eyes. “Very much so. I really do think I was led here.”

He put his hat on. “Well. I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to be happy. You’re a good woman.”

“Thank you, Thaddeus. You’re a good man.” He shook his head slightly.

“You don’t really mean that. I got my faults, lots of them.”

“No, I do mean it. You truly are.” A wry expression crossed her face. “Even if you didn’t come here for the reunion.”

“Thank you, Grace.” They smiled at each other. “Are you seeing anyone?”

She blushed. “Yes. I am. He’s very kind. I think . . . I like to think we have an understanding.”

‘That’s good. That’s good.” He took a deep breath.

“You’re part of this temperance movement, huh?”

“Oh yes. I’ve seen how demon rum destroys lives. Not just the life of the inebriate, but of his wife, his children, his community . . . it’s truly awful. If we’re going to save lives and save families, alcohol must be prohibited.”

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t join you on that. Me and Joshua, we enjoy having a whiskey or two. It don’t hurt us none.”

“I suppose not. It hurts so many other people, though.”

“Maybe.” He reached out and took her hand gently in his. She didn’t pull away. “It was good to see you, Grace.”

“You, too, Thaddeus.”

“Goodbye, Grace.”

“I . . . yes. Goodbye, Thaddeus. I’m glad I saw you.” She looked at him full on, seriously, intently. “I really do wish you all the best, you know.”

“I know. Same to you.” She withdrew her hand from his and held the Bible to her chest, hugging it with both arms. It looked like she was armoring himself. He tipped his hat. “Good night. I hope you enjoy the reunion.”

“I will. Good night, Thaddeus.”

He gave her one last smile, then stepped around her, going back to the hotel. She watched his retreating back for a moment before walking away in the opposite direction.

When he returned to the suite, he found Heyes reclining on the couch, feet propped on an expansive ottoman, holding a book in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

“Good timing. Your bath should be ready by now.”

Curry sank down in an overstuffed armchair. “Thanks for getting that organized.”

“My pleasure. It’s easier to be around you when you don’t smell more like a horse than your horse does.” He put the book down on the couch. “How was the performance?”

“I’ve seen better.”

“I bet.” Heyes’ eyes narrowed. He looked more closely at his friend. “Did anything happen?”

“Happen? Like what?” Curry took off his hat and placed it on an end table.

“I don’t know. You look kind of funny.” He sat up straight, feet on the floor. “Anything happen I should know about?”

“No. Nothing you need to know about.”

“So something did happen.”

“No.” He reached across, and Heyes gave him the whiskey. He watched Curry drain the glass.

“There’s plenty more. You can even have your own glass.”

“This is good for now.” He stood up slowly. “Think I’ll grab some fresh clothes and go for that bath. Down the hall?”

“Yeah. To the right.”

“Good.”

“Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Curry shook his head. He felt about a hundred years old.

“No, nothing. When I come back, let’s find some food, alright? Some honky tonk where they got big steaks, lots of whiskey, and none of the women carry a Bible or talk about temperance.”

“And people say I have all the good ideas.”

He looked at Heyes’ concerned face. It was good to have a friend who accepted his moods and silence, without needing to know details. “Thanks, Heyes. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Kid.” Heyes picked up his book again and began to read.

Hi everyone, decided to post this. I had a snippet of an idea that I decided I could build a story around. Yes, I'll finish it. As per usual, I intended this short and it ended up long.


Heyes glanced around the dingy saloon. The sawdust was littered with cigar butts as well as vomit, stale beer, and tobacco juice. He could smell all of the above, piss, and horse dung. It was definitely putting off both his appetite and his thirst. Too bad there wasn’t another saloon in the town. Supposedly poker and faro games started up at 6:00 PM. He glanced at his pocket watch. He had 30 minutes.

“Joshua Smith? Is that you?” a woman’s voice exclaimed.

Heyes looked to see a brunette saloon girl bustling over to his table. When she got close enough, he recognized her as Miss Lydia Love. She’d been a dance hall girl in a town he and the Kid had stayed in while completing a job for Lom. He remembered the conversation they’d had about pseudonyms, as she’d asked why he hadn’t taken one having such a plain name.

“Miss Love, nice to see you again,” Heyes said, standing and pulling out a grimy chair. She smiled at him as she sat and he recalled that she knew him as an ex locksmith turned temporary deputy thanks to a lie he’d spun to excuse certain talents. She looked around the saloon hopefully and he remembered that she and the Kid had gotten along rather well.

“Call me Lydia. It’s great to see a friendly face!” She looked around once more as if his partner might materialize. “Isn’t Thaddeus with you?”

“Unfortunately not. You’ll have to make do with my company instead,” Heyes said with a charming grin.

Lydia laughed. “It isn’t that, I just hoped to see him again. He owes me a dance, remember.”

“As long as it isn’t a jig,” Heyes said with a grin and she laughed, partly in on the joke.

“You teased him about that, but he was a fine dance partner,” she said. “He won’t be meeting you at all?”

Her eyes were sad despite the smile and he wondered how she’d ended up in this piss pot of a bar. Heyes briefly debated what to tell her. She only knew them as Smith and Jones and she was fond of the Kid. He didn’t sense ill intent, but something made him hesitate. You’re getting paranoid, he told himself. “Thaddeus will be in tomorrow afternoon. I’m sure we can stop by again.”

Lydia beamed. “I’d appreciate it. Or I could come see you, as I’m off in the afternoon. You at the Twisted Briar?”

He nodded. It was the most economical yet clean hotel in town.

“Then I’ll head to their dining room tomorrow! Do you mind buying me a drink? Terrence will raise cane in a minute if I’m not working.”

Hannibal Heyes raised his finger and the bartender brought over drinks. As soon as he left, they clinked glasses.

“Cheers. Lydia, don’t take this wrong, but…”

She laughed again, wryly this time. “How’d a classy gal end up in this cheap place? I started heading further west not long after you two left and only made it as far as here. I needed to work again to get back on the trail. I mean to make it to California and if I have to walk in piss drenched sawdust to do it, I will.”

“I admire a woman with determination,” Heyes said. He bought her another drink and idled by the time with her until 6:00 PM.

Not much long after that, a crowd of men did pile in and divide up into faro and poker. Heyes went to the poker table, noting the fact that the crowd seemed like they’d be at home in Devil’s Hole. They were all rough and distinctly unwashed, though that wasn’t unusual with cowboys or outlaws. Heyes couldn’t decide whether the air of menace or halitosis they exuded was worse.

“I’m Jethro Jackson,” the largest and ugliest of the bunch said. “That’s Sol, Lefty, Bart, and Ned.”

They each nodded in turn.

“Joshua Smith,” Heyes said.

Lydia brought their drinks and squeaked as the leader pinched her behind. “Jethro, if you want that kind of thing, go to Louella’s down the street.” She batted his hand off of her. “You can buy me a drink, though. I might even let you walk me home.”

Heyes relaxed; she handled him just fine.

Jethro smiled at her. “I might take you up on that.”

The poker game proceeded with very little chit chat. They drank and smoked and that was it. Unfortunately the seriousness didn’t translate to a satisfying game.

Jethro was what Heyes thought of as an erratic player. He played every hand, bet more than anyone else, and raised and raised without thought. Heyes played the long game and won, but not too much. No point in rushing. Sometimes Jethro had a decent hand, but it was clear to him that most of the time he didn’t, including just then.

Heyes glanced at his three kings. “I’ll see your twenty and raise you twenty,” he said.

Jethro frowned and Heyes tried not to smirk as the rest folded and the two went into the kind of showdown he always won at—poker. He displayed his kings and Jethro looked and then tossed down two pair.

“Good guess,” Jethro said as Heyes took the pot.

Hannibal Heyes had definitely not guessed, but he didn’t push his luck and explain. Not without the Kid here to back him up.

“Need some refills?” Lydia asked, bringing over a bottle.

“So what do you do, Mr. Smith?” Jethro asked, sneering. Of course, his face sort of naturally did that so Heyes didn’t take offense. “Other than play cards.”

“He’s a locksmith,” Lydia replied. “And a good one.”

Heyes wished she hadn’t said that when he saw Jethro’s sudden interest. “Retired, alas.”

“That's a shame since you can make good money if you pick the right locks,” Lefty said.

They all laughed. Heyes smiled; his unease only in his eyes. “I wouldn’t know about that, but I do know a good deal about poker. How about we get back to the game?”

And so they did.
Later that night, Hannibal Heyes smiled at the men easily despite feeling trapped. Four of the five from the poker game had circled him and the girl and this time they all had weapons out. Unfortunately, they’d taken his own.

“Can I help you, gentleman?” Heyes asked pleasantly, although his eyes were cold. They were alone outside the Twisted Briar Hotel.

“You’ll have to if you don’t want a world of hurt,” the leader, Jethro, said with a grin that highlighted missing teeth.

Lydia let out a frightened noise and Heyes stepped in front of her protectively, although he didn’t trust her much more than the men surrounding them. She’d arrived with them, after all. He had the sinking feeling this had something to do with the fact she’d said he was a locksmith.

“You’re a picklock?” Jethro asked, cementing his fear.

“A locksmith,” Heyes corrected. “There’s a difference. As I said earlier, I haven’t plied my trade in years. Why are you here?”

Lydia moved next to him and bit her lip. “As soon as you left, they were saying they wished they’d asked you to open a lock for them. They…they insisted I take them to you.”

Heyes noticed the grouping of fingerprints on her arm that would no doubt bruise and frowned.

Jethro grinned. “We need a ‘locksmith’ to work for us. We got ourselves a couple of fancy locks we can’t pick.”

“We cain’t blast ‘em either,” Ned, the shortest of the group piped up.

I see this gang has a Kyle, Heyes thought.

“Can’t destroy the whatsits inside and pick ‘em neither.”

“Mechanisms,” Heyes said. “If you wanted to hire me for a legitimate job, you didn’t need to surround me in the dark. Besides, I’ve retired. If you need a locksmith, I bet there is a perfectly good one in town.”

“We don’t want to use the one in town,” Jethro said menacingly. “We want one that ain’t from around here that will keep his mouth shut. We’ll pay you well.”

“I’m sorry, I have another appointment tomorrow,” Heyes said, remaining pleasant. He was calm and hoping that would help Lydia, who was terrified.

“We ain’t askin’ you, we’re tellin’ you,” Jethro said, levelling the short barreled shotgun at him.

Lydia gasped and clutched his vest from behind as if she might like to hide under it.

“Ah.” Heyes weighed his options. Why did they have to come a day too early for the Kid to be around to help? Heyes would try to be long out of trouble by the time Kid got to town but if he couldn’t manage it, Kid would find him. At that thought, he paused. He’d told Lydia that Thaddeus was coming tomorrow. Careless. “If I decline your generous offer?”

“Then we take it out on the girl,” Bart said.

The thin, silent member of the gang took that as an invitation to paw at her hips. Heyes knocked the man’s hands off of her and would have hit him, but the man’s six-gun was suddenly in his face.

“Sol,” Jethro said, stopping the man. He looked at Heyes and continued, “Go down the alley and get in our supply wagon.”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Lydia said, hesitantly putting a hand on Jethro’s arm.

“Oh don’t you worry, sweetheart, you’ll be coming along,” the man replied.

Lydia staggered back, hitting Heyes who steadied her. “What?” she asked.

“Walk!”

And Jethro gave them both a little shove and they started the walk down the narrow alleyway beside the hotel. Two men were on either side of them, one was in front, and Jethro was behind. Boxed in. If he’d been with the Kid, Heyes would have risked a move as the alley was tight for their adversaries as well as them, but Lydia wasn’t going to give him any backup.

A door on the side opened and everyone froze, but the maid standing there just dumped a pail of refuse into a ditch by the hotel. She was short, had coffee colored skin, and pretty eyes; she made accidental eye contact with Heyes, and froze a moment, startled, before looking down. A tense moment passed and she closed the door.

“That girl saw us,” Lefty said. “Want me to go in after her?”

Jethro paused. “No. Nobody’s gonna believe anythin' she says.”

My partner will, Heyes thought. At least he’ll know how many there were.

The group finally came out of the alley behind the hotel where there was a wagon waiting with a powerful farm horse hitched to it and the last poker player from the game in the box seat. There were also four horses.

“Gentleman,” Heyes began, but Jethro hit him from behind with his pistol and he fell, unconscious.

Lydia cried out and two of the men hauled him into the back of the supply wagon and tied him up.

Jethro laughed at her distress. “Get in there with him afore I make you. Don’t want to miss the fun.”

“You don’t need to take me with you and you know that Terrence will notice my being gone!” Lydia tried. “He has people who will miss him, too!”

“Then let’s hope you both do everythin’ I say so you get back safe. Get in the wagon, Lydia,” Jethro said. He said it in a way that made her not want to make him repeat it.

She got in the wagon and they tied her up and put her down by Joshua, who was still unconscious. Lydia began to sob as the wagon started to move. How had it gone so wrong? She had been looking forward to reuniting with Thaddeus but then she’d mentioned Joshua was a locksmith and it had gone south.

Lydia Love had followed Mr. Smith at their insistence and stopped him so that the men could surround them. She hated her part in it but she was terrified of Sol. If she could get away, she would, with or without Joshua. Hopefully with, but Lydia had seen the way the men were looking at her. She’d do anything to escape.

This is another long one... sorry... However many of you will be up to speed on this one already and can scroll to the last scene...

A Matter of Faith and Trust

“Did you ever think that we’d end up here?”
Kid Curry stretched his tongue like he was trying to rid himself of a particularly bad taste.  His partner and long-time trail companion, Hannibal Heyes, visibly shuddered.
“Not in my wildest dr… nightmares … Kid… Not even then.”
Heyes squared his shoulders and straightened his neck, breathed in purposefully, and wrapped his knuckles hard on the outer door of the Wyoming Territorial Prison.  
Kid groaned and lowered his head till his chin was buried in his chest.  He couldn’t grow a beard in a week like Heyes, he had to rely on the copious trail dust he’d left to crust his face.  When it came to it however, this thin veil of dirt seemed far too inadequate a disguise for his too well-known face.  How could their so-called friend, and ally in the acquisition of an amnesty, have agreed with the Territorial Governor that they were the best candidates for a job like this.
“What do you want!” came a surly voice from the other side of the large wooden door.  The ominous rattle of a large key in the lock accompanied the enquiry. Heyes’ stomach muscles spasmed involuntarily, releasing a fearsome groan.  Kid groaned even louder, wiping at his eyes with his gun hand, removing a layer of precious dirt to fall to the ground and sprinkle his boots. His hand was quickly removed, first reflexively finding the hilt of his Colt, then schooled to his belt buckle.
Heyes gave him an annoyed look of ‘Will you cut that out!’
Heyes cleared his throat. His first attempt at speech came out as a squeak, which he rapidly covered with a manly cough.
“Huuum… Deputies Smith and Jones here… Acting for Sheriff Lom Trevors …of Porterville…. On the orders of …erm… the The Governor… hisself…. Here to collect…. a prisoner… that is to say… a former prisoner… and to transport …same… to… erm… himself…. That is to say…. Sheriff Trevors… not the Governor…”
Kids eyes rolled in pain.
The large door swung open, slowly, to reveal a uniformed, buffalo-shouldered, armed guard staring disapprovingly into the daylight.  His pale skin spoke of the darkness behind him.  Heyes reflexively smiled, then realising his mistake, immediately scowled at the guard.
“And …we haven’t got all day …to be about it …neither!”  he stated firmly.
The guard looked.  He took in every inch of the former outlaw leader, and then, purposefully leaned out of the doorway, to give Kid Curry a similar once over.  Heyes saw Kid’s cheeks start to crimp, and shook a warning negative.  Kid tried to look like he thought a Deputy on duty should look, nodding curtly, and quickly turning away to scan the surrounds of the prison for trouble.
The Prison building was at quite a remove from Laramie.  Any trouble would have been more than visible for miles around.
There was none.  
Kid nodded that this was the case to the guard, and repeated the single word,
“Deputies”,
just in case the over-sized man hadn’t got the message; they were deputies, they weren’t prisoners.
“Hmmmm” said the guard, unimpressed by the vigilance.
“You’d best come in then” he said, turning away and disappearing back into the gloom.
Heyes looked stricken just for a second, nodding assent to the retreating guard’s back.  He eyed that black rectangle of threshold like it was a portal to Hell, then he turned to Kid, grabbed his arm, and swung him around like a shield as he marched them both into the Wyoming Territorial Prison like soldiers advancing to war.


They stood in a dark vestibule.  
The enormous guard had disappeared behind a door marked ‘Governor’. The reformed outlaws had a sickening feeling of déjà vu, stood outside such a door, whilst others beyond decided their fate.
They couldn’t look at each other in that place.
“Gentlemen!” came a high, jovial sounding voice from the suddenly open office door in front of them.  
“What an auspicious occasion, that brings two such August Gentlemen as yourselves, to our door.  I must say, I was rather enjoying the anticipation of your visit, and now … Here you are … at last.”
He eyed them up and down, only now taking in their battered dirty clothes, Heyes’ full beard and Kid’s considerably trail dust encrusted face. He shook his head slightly, dismissing as a trifle, his disappointment that they’d failed to look as he’d expected.
“Now that you’re here, I intend to make the most of your visit.  Won’t you come and join me in my office.”
Kid, who had his back to the wall and hadn’t taken his eyes off the outside door for more than a second, grunted and smiled briefly at the invitation but deferred to Heyes’ judgement.  If they were going into that office, there had better be a window to the outside.
Heyes smiled his most charming smile, given the beard.
“August? … Us?  No…no… You must be expecting someone else.  We’re just a pair o’ regular deputies … Here to collect a prisoner … for … erm… well … that is to say… a former prisoner… one that’s already paid…”
The Governor beamed happily and gushed over Heyes’ assertions.
“Yes… Yes… I know all about … EVERYTHING! I’m fully briefed… fully briefed.”
He seemed to delight in the effect his words were having on Wyoming’s most wanted men.  
Heyes had stopped in his tracks, his lips still searching for words.
“EVERYTHING?” questioned Kid in a cold, calm voice.
“Oh yes… Oh yes…. This is an occasion to be savoured Gentlemen …. Auspicious indeed… Now won’t you come in.”
He stood aside and waved an arm into the Office.  He said no more, eyeing them with the beady eyes of a spider inviting a fly to its web.


It was an unremarkable office; a large desk, several chairs of different degrees of comfort and a second door to the rear.  The window gave a view inwards, to what appeared to be a parade ground of some sort.
Kid’s anxiety levels rocketed upwards. He warily took in the surrounds, then his blue gaze settled on that second exit. Wherever that second door led, that must be where the enormous armed guard was now located. He purposely stood, where he could see both exits and the window, arms folding around his chest as he planted his feet.
The Governor watched Kid survey his office, and seemed just a little less sure of himself as he invited them to sit, in two of the less comfortable chairs near the desk.
Kid remained motionless.
Heyes stated that they were just fine as they were, it wasn’t like they were planning to be staying any length of time.
“Gentlemen… We might as well make ourselves comfortable” said the Governor, as he walked over and sat behind the desk, in his plush upholstered armchair, his right hand dropping from view to his lap.  
Kid merely straightened, and the Governor’s hand quickly reappeared, palm open, facing towards the gunman in an almost apologetic gesture.
The tension was palpable.  
The Governor clasped his hands together, to keep them from straying further, and attempted a smile.
“Now…now… I understand that you must be … rather uncomfortable …with your present situation gentlemen…” he started carefully.  “But you must see… this is a first for me also.  It’s not every day… the likes of… men… such as yourselves… come walking into my office… voluntarily.  We’re all a little on edge.  That’s only to be expected.  Now …you still have your guns… I remain unarmed… as you can see… though… of course, I am not unprotected.  Can’t we sit and discuss… ARRANGEMENTS …in a civilised manner?”
Heyes guessed 'arrangements' hadn’t been the man’s first choice of word.  He listened, fascinated.  He could see a sheen of sweat starting to bloom on the other man’s forehead.  There was no doubt at all in Heyes’ mind, that this man knew exactly who they were. He’d seen that sheen before, when many a man had sat under the steady gaze of a fully armed Kid Curry, whilst he himself had encouraged them things would go better for them if they fully cooperated.
This time was different.
This felt more like a poker game, with the highest stakes imaginable on the table.  He schooled his face to a blank stare.  His demeanour quietening and leaving little doubt that he was indeed Hannibal Heyes, former leader of the Devils Hole outfit.
“Arrangements?”
He repeated the word, drawing it out, and seeming to chew it around in his mouth, as he removed the glove of his gun hand.
“Arrangements ...have all been made.  You release the prisoner… We see he gets to Lom… Sheriff Trevors... Alive.  There don’t seem to be no other …arrangements… to discuss.”
Kid moved a fraction to stand at Heyes’ shoulder.  He too had removed his gloves.
The Governor looked them squarely in the eyes, carefully placing his hands flat on the desk before him.
“What would you say Gentlemen… if I told you… that there is no such prisoner to collect… It being… just a ruse… cooked up by Sheriff Trevors... to get you here.”
The poker faces held.
“One…” continued the Governor undaunted. “… that I for one… doubted you would ever comply with… And yet …here you are... in my office.”
Maybe the faintest twitch.
“And...”
The Governor gathered his resolve.
“That Sheriff Trevors ...and the Territorial Governor himself…. will both be in this very office… first thing …tomorrow morning?”
The boys took a second to look at each other, just to make sure they were on the same page.
They were.
Kid’s gun was in his hand in a flash, and he quickly moved to the outer door to see what resistance they would meet on their way out.
Heyes, also gun in hand, covered the Governor, who had remained seated.
“I’d say…” he said, rolling his eyes and sneering up his mouth in mock thought.  “I’d say …You were gonna have quite the reunion there.  Pity is… we’re planning to be missing it!”
He joined Kid at the door, keeping the gun trained on the seated man as Kid carefully opened the door a crack.
“Well that would indeed …be a great pity… Mr Heyes…  Mr Curry…“ said the Governor slowly, looking down the barrel of Heyes' gun.  “I’ve been led to believe …you are not an unintelligent man, Mr Heyes.  Is it beyond your whit… to fathom …WHY … The Governor would wish to make such a trip …to the Penitentiary…in the company of your friend… Trevors?"
Heyes' eyes narrowed in annoyance at the slight.
"I can assure you … neither has made such a trip …before” finished the Governor, seeing the change in Heyes.
Kid’s head was in the vestibule.
“Clear!” he rasped in disbelief, the security around here was shocking.
But Heyes’ attention was all on the seated man.  His hand found his Partner’s shoulder.
“Wait a minute Kid…”


The Governor hadn’t moved.  He sat quietly, watching the outlaw leader’s Scofield pistol as it wavered to and fro, in time with the cogs whirring inside Heyes’ head.  Heyes stared back for what felt like a very long few seconds, as he tried to get the measure of the other man’s character.
This Governor, Governor Valentine K. Johnson, was not an easy man to read.  But there was something Heyes recognised, something in the man’s manner and bearing that brought to mind, a certain, fair minded Judge of their acquaintance.  A Judge whose word could be trusted.
Slowly, Heyes lifted and holstered his gun.
“It’s… Heyes … just Heyes.”
Kid, still stood with the door knob in his hand.  He stared at Heyes as he trained his Colt on the seated Governor.  He looked confused.  What was this? They were leaving. It had all been a lie. A trap, to get them to the prison.  No way, was he holstering his gun.
“Well … just … Heyes …” said the Governor ignoring the gunman’s pistol, “You … may call me Johnson … if you wish … for now.”
A small smile of satisfaction crossed his face, or was it relief, as Heyes placed a hand over Kid’s gun and lowered it to point at the floor.
“HEYES … You’re not gonna listen to this snake… ARE YOU? He just admitted it’s all been a pack o’ lies! He’s just stallin’ us … till his guard comes back … COME ON HEYES … WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE!”
Heyes’ gaze hadn’t left the seated man.
“I wanna hear what he has to say Kid … You can keep him covered while we talk … if it makes you feel better… but … I don’t think we should leave without hearing what he has to say.”
Kid stared at his cousin in disbelief.  Saw that Heyes was in earnest, and wouldn’t be swayed. So, with a scrape of more dirt from his face to the floor and a frustrated growl of anger, Kid resumed his vigil at the door, whilst keeping his Colt trained on Johnson’s middle.
Heyes sat, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in his lap, all ears.  Johnson eyed Kid Curry behind the seated Heyes in question.  Heyes merely smiled.  He wasn’t surprised, their reputations were such, that many a man believed Kid merely did Heyes’ bidding.
“He can hear you well enough from there” he assured the Governor.
“Well … Gentlemen …” Johnson seemed to accept that this was the best he could expect from his august company, just at present.  
“I presume you would like to know why, your friend Trevors, had you turn up a day early for a meeting with the Territorial Governor?”
Heyes’ eyebrows did his answering.
“Yes… Governor Thomas Moonlight himself … is coming here tomorrow morning.  And I presume you’d like to know why he had you come to this… “
Johnson waved a hand towards the window and the parade ground beyond.  It was filling up with a bedraggled bunch of half-starved looking men, whose hair looked recently shorn and who were all wearing the same stripped uniform. They were overseen by more of the mammoth guards wielding rifles.  Kid watched as the men were directed to move boulders, the size of small doggies, from one side of the yard to the other.  He was not impressed.
Heyes wasn’t distracted however, he was listening to every word Johnson was saying.
“To this … facility … this great bastion … of penal reform?”
‘Ah, that was it,’ thought Heyes.  ‘That was the angle.’

The sun had barely started to kiss the low mountains with a red rim, as the two riders made their way out of the valley into the hills.  The horses had been restless, being on the road so early.  They seemed anxious to move more quickly, but their riders did not.

“You gonna be okay?” The gathering light glinted off the silver conchos on the band of the black hat.  He had turned to face his partner.

The other rider kept his head down, the wide brim of his hat keeping his face in shadow.  He didn’t reply.

The first rider pulled up on his horse, causing the other to reluctantly stop too.

“At least you got to say good-bye to her.”

“Heyes, we’ve been through all this before.  I really don’t feel like discussing it again.”  The Kid clucked to his horse and started moving again, forcing Heyes to continue on too.

After riding up the mountainside in silence, Heyes could not keep quiet.

“I’m not certain the sheriff would have connected us to that telegraph.  Well, not totally certain.”

The Kid sighed.  “It would have caused problems for her, if he did.  And us.”

Heyes thought on that for a while, nodding.  “But you really didn’t want to leave, did you?”

The Kid pulled up on his horse, and lifted the brim of his hat.  “If I admit I didn’t want to leave, will you let it go?”

A sympathetic look finally came over Heyes’ face.  “Ah, Kid, I’m sorry.”  He reached out to touch his friend on the shoulder.  “Someday we’ll get that amnesty.”

“Yeah,” the Kid replied, but didn’t look as positive as his partner.  “Someday.”


“Is Joshua around?” the short, bespectacled, young woman asked.  She still had on the apron she usually wore in her father’s telegraph shop, and her mousy brown hair was a bit disheveled from the wind, as she had crossed the street without putting on her hat.

Mr. Herman, the shopkeeper, was older, and rounder.  He had little hair left to muss, but also wore spectacles.  Pausing in his current activity of gathering an order for Mrs. Hurst, the banker’s wife, he peered over his eye glasses at the young woman.  Eleanor Sweet was not one of those obviously pretty girls, like Alice Hurst.  She was one of the good daughters in town, helping in her father’s business, and probably ending up as an old maid.

“Yes, I think he and Thaddeus are out back, loading up the wagon with supplies for the grist mill.”  Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones had been working at Mr. Herman’s shop for the past two weeks.  It was not work that was easy on the back, but it was all they could find in the small town of Alamosa.  Mr. Herman’s nephew, who normally did the deliveries, had broken his leg and was still laid up.  “Why are you in such a hurry?”  He noticed the telegraph paper in her hand.  “They get another note from their friend sheriff friend up in Wyoming?”

“No,” Eleanor paused, hesitation evident in her posture.   “This is not for them.  I just stopped to invite them to dinner.  Thank you, Mr. Sherman.”  Always polite, Eleanor replied as she hurried out the back door.

Even in her rush, she stopped for a moment, to watch the boys as they loaded the boxes of supplies into the back of the wagon.  It was not the easy work that they often joked they preferred.  In her small town existence, she had never encountered such charismatic individuals.  She still wondered at their kindness, that had enabled her to know them as more than customers of the telegraph shop.  They seemed to be like the rather rough and ready types who sometimes wandered through town, who seemed disinclined to do honest work, but preferred spending time in the saloon.  They did often stop in that establishment for a beer and a card game, but she could forgive them those vices, when they had so many other admirable characteristics.  

Only truly good men would have spent their hard-earned money on her picnic basket at the church social, when no one else would bid even two bits.  Thaddeus Jones had tried to bid on Libby Warren’s basket, but Chas Hurst, the banker’s son, had outbid him.  Loading wagons at the hardware store did not pay enough, even if everyone in town knew the school teacher was just as sweet on Thaddeus as he was on her.  Chas had just been his obnoxious self, and bid thirty dollars, something the boys could not match, even if the funds were going for school supplies.

Eleanor had been surprised, but of course pleased, when the boys used some of the money they had planned to spend on Libby’s basket on her own lonely one.  Everyone in town knew she was not the best cook, and as she wasn’t anywhere near as pretty as either Alice Hurst or Libby Warren, she had expected to be eating the ham sandwiches and apple cobbler herself.  Libby had helped her with the dessert.  She said anyone could make a cobbler.  Eleanor had almost proved her wrong, when she had burnt the first attempt, but luckily she had enough apples for a second try.  The school teacher had of course made a wonderful basketful of food, including fried chicken, potato salad, and a light and airy cake.

She had to admit she was shocked when Joshua and Thaddeus had actually offered two dollars for her basket, at the last minute of the bidding.  They could have gotten it for twenty-five cents, but as Joshua said with a dimpled smile, it was for the school.

She forced herself back into the current moment, glancing down at the telegraph she had clutched in her hand, as she approached the wagon.

“Miss Eleanor!” the Kid called as he pulled a large bag onto his shoulder and deposited it in the bed.

Heyes was standing in back of the wagon, arranging boxes.  He looked up as the Kid called to her, and smiled broadly.  Jumping down, he said, as he neared her, “To what do we owe this unexpected, but definitely welcome visit?”  His smile wavered as he saw the telegraph in her hand, and her serious face.  “Well, I doubt very much if that’s from our good friend, Lom Trevors,” he stated.

“It is for the sheriff here,” she started, but then faltered, looking away for a moment.

“If it’s for Sheriff Malcolm,” the Kid said as he too approached.  “Why are you bringing it here?”  His face went still, and he looked towards his partner.

“Nora?” Heyes asked.

“It is from the sheriff over to Del Norte.”  She took a deep breath, and looked first at the Kid and then at Heyes.  “He says he has information that Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry might be in this town.”

“Then why are you bringing it to us?” Heyes asked quietly.

“Sheriff Newman included a description,” she replied.

“Can I see it?” he asked.

She handed it over and he quickly scanned it.  “Ellie, these descriptions could be just about anyone.”  He gave her a big smile, but she noticed it did not reach his eyes.  “We’ve got those type of faces that folks think they’ve seen before.”

“Did you read the rest?” she asked softly.  “It says they would have arrived two weeks ago, from Monte Vista.  She looked up and fixed Heyes’ gaze.  “You are the only two who came into town then.”  She took a deep breath.  “And you told me you had been in Monte Vista.”

“Still doesn’t mean we’re Heyes and Curry,” the Kid replied, with a still look on his face.

“The sheriff is over to Fort Garland, until tomorrow,” she said quietly.  

The boys exchanged a look.

“I can give the telegraph to Deputy Ward and tell him it’s for the sheriff.”  She cleared her throat.  “He usually just leaves those on his desk, unless I tell him they are important.”

Heyes came closer to her and she glanced up at him.  “We don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Papa actually received the telegram.  He just asked me to deliver it.”

“No one will believe you didn’t know what it said,” Heyes continued.

“You’ll be gone by then, and the sheriff will be a day late.  That’s all that matters.”  She held his gaze.

“You can be arrested for helping us escape,” he shook his head.

“Joshua,” the Kid cautioned.  “Don’t you think,” he started.

“If you give me the telegraph back,” she interrupted.  “I get it over to the deputy, and no one will know.”

“You certain of that?” Heyes persisted.

“Yes,” she insisted.

“We could leave from the grist mill,” the Kid suggested.

Heyes shook his head, pondering.  “Then they’d know Eleanor told us.”  He paused for a moment.   He looked back and held her gaze.  “You certain the sheriff is away until tomorrow?”

“Yes, he was testifying at a trial.  The judge wasn’t getting in until late tonight, from Walsenburg, so the trial won’t be until tomorrow.”
“How do you know all this?” the Kid asked.

“That telegraph I took.”

Heyes nodded this time, and said, “We’ll leave before first light.”  He touched Eleanor’s arm.  “We don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just be safe,” she insisted.  She folded the telegraph back into the envelope, and was about to leave, but stopped.  “I told Mr. Herman I was inviting you for supper.”

“We’ll meet you at the schoolhouse,” Heyes answered.  “The children will be gone by the time we get back from the grist mill.”

Eleanor nodded and hurried back into the shop.  Mr. Herman was busy with a customer, so she just breezily waved, and continued on her way to the sheriff’s office.


Libby Warren usually enjoyed her days teaching.  There might be a trying day or two, here and there, that the Norris boys would act up, and disrupt the classroom, but she had learned a bit of an imperious manner from her father, and truth be told, from her mother too, so she had no problem handling these situations, even though some of the older boys were taller than she was.  She simply would pick up the switch, and threaten to tell their parents.  She knew she didn’t have the gumption to actually use it, but so far her threats had maintained order.  

This day however was dragging slowly.  She looked out at the bright sunshine, and the trees gently waving in the breeze.  Normally it was the children who were daydreaming about the school day being over, but today it was her.  Ever since Thaddeus had been in town, she had found it hard to concentrate only on her classroom.  

She knew nothing was going to come of a dalliance with a man who, no matter how kind he was and no matter how blue were his eyes, truth be told, was nothing but a drifter.  Her daydreams told her otherwise, even though she should know better than to listen to them.

They had met the day he and his friend Joshua had delivered the winter coal to the school.  It was a hard, dirty job, but it told her what sort of man Thaddeus really was, as well as his friend Joshua.

They had waited until class was out for the day, so they wouldn’t disturb the children, and then dug into the job of filling up the coal bin.  While most men would have complained, all she heard from the two of them was laughter.  Oh, there were some good natured jabs between them as to who was actually shoveling more coal, but they continued shoveling nonetheless.

It was when they were finished, and Thaddeus asked for a broom to clean up the coal dust that she first met those blue eyes, and wide smile.

“Miss Warren?  Miss Warren!” Bobby Boudon called out, and finally brought her attention back from her daydreams to the classroom.  “You said we only had to read for ten minutes.  It’s been fifteen.”

“Yes, Bobby, it has,” she; admitted.  “And since you all have been so well behaved, I think you deserve to get out fifteen minutes early.”

There was much rejoicing in the classroom, along with the shutting of books and gathering of lunch pails.
Libby stood at the doorway waving as the last of the children hurried out, before she could change her mind about the early dismissal.  She was about to turn back in to straighten the classroom for the next day, when she saw Eleanor Sweet coming down the street.  She waited until her friend came close to the school and then went down the steps to greet her with a sincere hug.

“To what do I owe this lovely visit?”  Libby noticed that Eleanor was a bit stiff returning her embrace.  As she pulled back, she looked into her friend’s face and noticed concern, if not a bit of fear.

“Oh, Libby, can we go inside, before I start blathering in the street?”

“Certainly.”  She had never known her down-to-earth friend to be given to unfounded worries, so she linked arms with her and turned to re-enter the school.

“Let me tidy up here quickly and we can go on to my house.  I probably could scramble up some eggs for dinner, if you’d like.  Alice Henry brought some in from their farm.”

Eleanor simply nodded, and started to organize some of the books left not quite tidy.  She took a deep breath, and said, “I invited the boys to supper.”

“Oh,” Libby paused but then smiled at the thought of seeing Thaddeus.  “I’m certain I have enough eggs for us all, as well as some ham I could fry up.”  She looked over towards her friend.  “I thought they were going to go play cards tonight, after taking that big load to the mill.”

“Plans have changed,” Eleanor told her friend.


“But I don’t understand,” Libby shook her head, confused, as Ellie and the boys tried to explain why they were leaving in the morning.  “But you aren’t Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes.  It might take some time and be a bit inconvenient to wait for verification from your friend, Sheriff Trevors, but he should be able to straighten this out, shouldn’t he?”

Joshua cleared his throat, after he and Thaddeus had exchanged a glance, but Eleanor spoke before he had a chance.  “It will be safer for them, if they leave.”

“It will be safer for you too,” Thaddeus said quietly, then looked at Libby, sadness mixed with determination, covering his face.

“But you aren’t Curry and Heyes,” she insisted.  No one replied.  Neither Joshua nor Eleanor would meet her gaze.  Thaddeus did, but still said nothing.  “Are you?”

He took her hands, as Joshua and Ellie got up to clear the table and take things into the kitchen.

Thaddeus took a deep breath, and said.  “I’m not going to lie to you, Libby.”  He then said nothing more.

“You’re...you’re...” she faltered to a stop, looking into his blue eyes, trying to commit to memory how the sun glinted off his blond curls.

“Just remember me as Thaddeus.”


They had been riding for three days before they stopped to make camp.  There had been no sign of pursuit, but it had been too close of a call for them to feel comfortable earlier.

The Kid had been quieter than usual all day, but Heyes had finally refrained from trying to draw him out.  It made for a very silent ride, but Heyes knew it had gotten to a point beyond teasing.

The food Libby had insisted they take had run out the day before, but Heyes had come up with enough coffee to make a pot to warm them.  They sat around the fire in companionable silence.

It was the Kid who finally spoke.

“Promise me we’re gonna get that blasted amnesty,” he said, not meeting Heyes’ eyes.

“Sure we are, Kid.”  Heyes came up with a smile for his partner.  It may not have been huge, and may have been a bit soft, but it was there.  “Just gotta keep the faith.”

Kid Curry, simply nodded, and looked off over the mountain valley.  “Guess we’d best get some rest, if we’re gonna make Granite CIty tomorrow.  I’ll take first watch.”

“You certain?” Heyes’ eyes showed his concern, and not just over who was going to sleep first.

The Kid just nodded, and Heyes settled in for sleep.  Neither closed their eyes for some time.

From my ASJ Universe shoe horning the prompt in here ....



“Josh, can you come home please?” Mary said, as soon as he’d picked up the telephone receiver.

“I’m right in the middle of something Mary. What’s so important it can’t wait until I get home later?”

“We have a visitor. Someone we haven’t seen for a while.”

“Who?”

“Just come home Josh,” Mary said. “You’ll be glad you did.”

He heard the click of the receiver replacing at the other end and he growled. “Impossible woman!”

He narrowed his eyes. Mary rarely telephoned him at work and she had never before asked him to come home. So it must be important although she didn’t sound upset or worried. She would have told him if it was bad news wouldn’t she?

Frowning in frustration, he shuffled the papers he had been working on into a pile and stuffed them back into their folder. Then he tidied the rest of his desk and switched off the desk lamp, marvelling as always, at how electric light had transformed their lives in so short a time. Snatching up his keys, he got up and went to the safe. He bent and tried the handle. Satisfied that it was locked, he nodded. Returning to the desk, he thrust the folder under his arm and cast his eyes around the room as he walked to the door, checking to see that everything was away that should be away. He took his jacket from the coat stand and draped it over his arm. From the top of the coat stand, he took his hat. Positioning it comfortably on his head, he gave the room a further check. Outside in the main office, he turned and locked the door.

Dropping the folder on his secretary’s desk he said, “I’m going home early. There’s some emergency apparently.” He shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll look at those tomorrow.”

“Yes sir. Good night Mr Mayor.”

“Good night Carole, John.” Heyes nodded at the other occupant, his assistant.

He ran down the wide elegant carpeted staircase and out onto the boardwalk, where he paused to do up his jacket, and flipped open his pocket watch. He nodded, tight lipped at the time before setting off in the direction of the livery.

It was a five-minute walk from the Town Hall to the livery stable. Usually it took him much longer. The townsfolk always found some reason to stop him. Asking him to do things, complaining about something the Town Council had done or not done, enquiring about a by-law, asking after his family, telling him their problems, all manner of things. Forty-five minutes was his record and some nights he had a queue! Yet they all knew where his office was. He’d even had it signposted. Why didn’t they come and see him there? No, they preferred to stop him on the street. Heyes accepted it with good grace and carried a notepad and pencil to write down their complaints and requests. At home, it had become a familiar greeting ritual to ask him how many items where on the list. Mary and the children would just smile. Despite all his complaining they knew secretly, he liked all the informal attention. And they all knew why people did it. He got things done.

Outside the livery, he smiled, as he looked at his watch. Tonight was almost speedy; seeing fifteen minutes had elapsed. Snapping the pocket watch shut, he entered the livery. He didn’t have to wait for his horse to be saddled, it already was. He never understood how that happened. Did his staff telephone ahead once he left the office? Or did the word go out as he made the walk through the town? Either way he was grateful that he wasn’t delayed any longer and could start home straight away.

He rode home wondering what the emergency was. All three children were still away and weren’t expected back anytime soon. Susan, having finished studying for a Fine Art degree at University College London, had taken off to tour Europe. Harry and Billy were in Denver. The elder in his first job as a trainee detective with the Bannerman Detective Agency; the younger in his last year at school. There was only Mary and Heyes at home. He smiled ruefully as he rode. It was nice just the two of them. They’d only had that first year on their own before Susan arrived. Of course, he loved his kids and he liked having them around. Sometimes though it was nice just to be a married couple again and not be anyone’s father.

So what could the emergency be? He growled. He hated mysteries. Spurring his horse a little faster, he was soon cantering up the drive of Amnesty. John Beecher, their liveryman cum gardener came out to meet him with a broad grin.

“What’s going on, John?” Heyes asked as he dismounted.

John chuckled. “Reckon you’ll find out soon enough.”

Heyes growled as he handed him the reins. “Will I like it?”

“I reckon.” John chuckled as he led the horse away.

Heyes gave him a look and started up the path to the house. Reaching the steps, he stripped off his gloves. Pausing by the door, he took off his hat and fluffed up his hair, before pushing the handle down.

“Hallo,” he called as he entered the hall. “I’m home.”

It wasn’t Mary who appeared in the drawing room doorway shortly afterwards. For a moment, he didn’t believe his eyes and then he did.

“Susan!”

“Pappy!”

Susan ran lightly across the hall. Heyes dropped his hat on a chair and enfolded her in a tight embrace.

“When did you get home? Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Sweetheart! Are you well? You look well.”

“Yes Pappy I’m very well. I see you’ve got greyer,” she laughed, stirring his hair.

“Never mind that.” He flicked her hand away in irritation. “Where’s Mama?”

“I’m here,” they heard Mary call.

Heyes took Susan’s hand and kissed the fingers before they walked hand in hand into the drawing room. Where Heyes received another surprise. Mary was perched on the edge of the sofa but she was holding onto a very small boy. Susan held her hand out to him and Mary let him go.

“Pappy, I’d like you to meet … .” Susan pulled the boy into her arms. “My son, Alfie.” She grinned the full double dimple, delighted at his nonplussed expression.

Heyes looked from Susan to Mary, back to Susan, to the boy, and then back at Mary, who by now was by his side.

“What? How? When?” he spluttered, grateful to feel Mary’s hand on his arm.

“Not my natural child. Obviously,” Susan said, rolling her eyes dramatically.

A doctor had told them when she was a teenager that due to a physical deformity, Susan would never be able to have children of her own. She was never sad about it but the knowledge had made her promiscuous. Nothing to lose but all the fun, she had told her parents glibly. Unfortunately, her laisser-faire attitude to life had plunged her into trouble. The only way out had been to go to Europe and let the dust settle. Three years later, trouble forgotten but her zest for life remained undiminished. Now she was back to turn Heyes and Mary’s lives upside down again. Right from the off it appeared.

“Alfie and I met in Sienna. He didn’t appear to belong to anybody so … .” Susan shrugged. “I adopted him. Alfie this is Grumpy. I mean Grampy. Alfie è questo Grumpy.”

Heyes looked at Mary.

“Do you understand any of this?” he asked.

“Yes, darling,” Mary laughed, obviously delighted. “We have a grandson.”

“But … you can’t just … .” Heyes began as Mary guided him into a chair before his legs gave way.

“Well I did. US Immigration were fine about it. They stamped all the paperwork in double quick time and Alfie and me were on our way … lickety split as the say.” She grinned.

Heyes stared open mouthed. “Have you any idea what people will think?” he asked, several octaves higher than his usual baritone.

“Let them think what they like. Alfie and me are very happy. Aren’t we Alfie? Alfie e mi sono molto felice. Non siamo?”

“Si, Mama,” said Alfie.

“Oh, Pappy, how’s your Italian? I’m afraid Alfie doesn’t speak much English yet.”

Heyes dropped his head into his hands. Mary sat beside him and put an arm round his shoulders. “Cheer up Josh. Our daughter’s home,” she said, excitedly.

“I know,” Heyes groaned. “I’ve got a headache already.”

“Isn’t it exciting?” Mary squealed, ignoring him. “Josh, we have a grandson!”

Heyes raised his head and looked at Mary in astonishment. “Yeah. That’s why I’ve got a BIG headache. She’s not married!” he hissed. He looked at Susan and Alfie and then narrowed his eyes. “And … .” He flung his hand out in their direction. “The boy looks like her!” He turned to Susan. “Are you sure he’s not yours?” he demanded and then realised the absurdity of that
question. He squeezed his eyes shut with a wince.

“And ruin this figure?” Susan was incredulous, looking down at her trim body. “Don’t be so ridiculous! And … .” She put her nose in the air. “For your information I’m still bereft of monthlies!”

Heyes looked at Mary, tight-lipped, shook his head and rubbed his cheek.

“Susan’s home,” Mary whispered, rubbing his arm.

“Ye-ah.”

ASJASJASJASJ

The Kid stood at the bar of the saloon and slowly sipped his coffee. It was a little too early for anything stronger and he wasn’t going to be here for long. He looked up in interest as Heyes came stormed through the doors, marching with determination up to the counter, ignoring the greetings coming his way.

“Whiskey!” he growled at the bartender.

Fred took one look at Heyes’ face and rushed to grab a bottle without questioning the unusual request. He filled a glass, with a shaking hand and watched, along with the other few occupants of the saloon, as Heyes downed it in one, before requesting a refill.

The Kid raised an eyebrow and smiled ruefully. Something had his partner riled up so early this morning. As Heyes downed the second glass, the Kid decided he ought to make his presence known.

“Howdy Heyes,” he said, cheerfully, joining his partner.

Heyes looked round at him wide-eyed. The Kid wasn’t supposed to be here.

“You’re … what?”

The Kid chuckled at his flummoxed partner, grabbed his arm and stirred him over to a table. He nodded to Fred to bring their drinks.

“Come and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Susan!” Heyes growled as he sat down.

“I take it you mean your daughter Susan?” the Kid queried.

Heyes glared. “Do you know any other Susan who can make me drink whiskey at 8.30 in the morning?” He reached for the bottle and poured himself a third glass, knocked it back and slammed the glass on the table.

“What has she done? I thought she was still in Europe.”

“She come home. With a boy.” Before the Kid could say anything further, Heyes indicated the height of a small child. “That high.” He raised his hand a little. “Mebbe there.” He looked disgruntled. “I’m a grandfather,” he said, bitterly.

The Kid chuckled briefly and then sobered. He could tell that Heyes wasn’t finding the news amusing.

“But …,” he started.

“He’s not hers. Well yes he is. Mebbe.” Heyes sighed and toyed with his empty glass. “I’ve acquired a grandson. An ITALIAN grandson.”

“Well you went and had a daughter Heyes. Caroline and me decided to stick to boys.” The Kid sat back. A flicker of sadness crossed his face but when Heyes raise his head to give him the look, his face was innocent.

“I didn’t exactly plan it y’know,” Heyes spat.

“Didn’t you tell me that science recently discovered that it’s the male contribution that determines a child’s sex?” The Kid bit his lip.

Heyes looked at him incredulously. “I still didn’t have any say it in,” he ground out between gritted teeth. Then he looked away as his mouth twitched into a smile, which became a chuckle, then a short laugh.

The Kid grinned and patted his partner on the back. “Congratulations, Heyes.”

Heyes sat back. “Thanks. I think.” He frowned. “Why are you here? I wasn’t expecting you until next week.”

The Kid sighed. “Ah, it seems I still can’t get the hang of railroad timetables. I forgot the asterisk,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Thought I was on a fast train. Cowdry and me’ll be here for a few days.”

ASJASJASJ

A few weeks later …

“What on earth is going on here?” Heyes thundered as he walked into the hall. It resembled an untidy warehouse, full of trunks and boxes. A procession of deliverymen brought more objects in.

“Susan happened that’s what,” Mary said, obviously flustered and close to tears.

Heyes sidestepped a life sized bronze statue of a naked woman with outstretched hand in provocative pose. After giving it a glare of disgust, he joined Mary in the middle of the hall. Hands on hips Heyes looked round shaking his head. Mary drabbed at her nose with a handkerchief.

“She shipped everything home!” Mary cried. “What are we going to do with it all, Josh?” Tears overwhelmed her and she retreated to sit on the stairs, her face in her hands. Mary was usually more stoic than this but seeing her hall disappearing was too much.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Heyes sat next to her and put his arms round her. “Hey, darling, we’ll sort it all out,” he said, gently.

Mary sniffed and recovered quickly. “I know,” she gasped, dabbing her eyes.

“Might have to rent a barn,” Heyes sighed, looking round at the chaos.

Mary managed a smile. “I love having her home, Josh, but she does turn our lives upside down.”

Heyes looked at her sadly. “I know.” He swallowed hard as more boxes appeared. “Where is she by the way?”

“She took Alfie into town to buy him new shoes.”

“Ye-ah, ‘course she did.” Typical Susan. “Was she expecting this?”

“If she was, she didn’t say a word to me. You?”

“No not to me either,” he sighed. “Well.” He levered himself up with a grunt. “I suppose we’d better try and make some sense of it all. I’ll have John come up to give a hand.”

Before he could get further, the delivery foreman approached him with a clipboard.

“That’s all in now. Sign here please.” He offered Heyes one of the new Parker Jointless fountain pens to use.

“I’ve no idea if it’s all here!” Bizarrely Heyes had a flashback to an incident years ago when he had first worked in The Hardware Store. An unusual delivery that had taken all his ingenuity to sort out. He hoped he wouldn’t have to employ it again with this little lot.

“There’s nothing left on the van and the manifest has all ticked off. Miss Smith should get in touch if she thinks there is anything missing.” The foreman shrugged. “This shipment has come a long way. Lots of opportunities to lose a trunk.”

Heyes glared and signed. “Ye-ah,” he smacked his lips. “No doubt she will.”

As Heyes saw him out, a buggy came up the drive. “Ha!” He looked back at Mary. “Of course, impeccable timing!”
Susan pulled the horse and buggy to a halt by the steps. John followed up the path from the stable and held the horse as she got out. Then she turned and lifted Alfie into her arms. The delivery truck was making its slow way round the turning circle and away.

“Was that my stuff?” she asked excitedly.

“Uh-huh,” Heyes nodded, standing hands on hips. “Nice of you to tell us.”

“Oh.” Susan rolled her eyes dramatically. “I didn’t know precisely when it was coming. I think it’s a day early.”

With that, Heyes had to scramble to accept Alfie, thrust into his arms. He growled. “Susan!” He followed her in. She stood, hands on hips and surveyed the scene, a big grin on her face.

“All my things! Now I really feel that I’m home for good.”

“Your mother’s been in tears,” Heyes said dryly behind her.

Mary stood up from the stairs at the other side of the hall from where Susan and Heyes stood.

“Susan, what are going to do with it all?” Mary asked.

“Oh Mama, it’s not so bad,” Susan started forward. “It just looks a lot because it’s all higgledy-piggledy. Once it’s straightened
out, it’ll be fine.”

Mary looked at Heyes, helplessly.

“This is the first thing that gets moved!” Heyes indicated the naked woman statute.

Susan turned and put her arm protectively round the statute’s shoulders. “Pappy I think this piece of work clinched me getting a first! The examiners all said it was quite remarkable and so lifelike.”

“Don’t you tell me, it’s you!” Heyes roared, shaking a finger at her.

Susan looked shocked. “No of course not! This is my good friend Foxy. I wrote you all about her. Daughter of an Earl I think she
said. We had such an exciting time together with Jenny, our other room mate. She was Australian. I have a painting of her somewhere. Quite multi-national our room.”

“I don’t care who it is. It’s NOT staying in the middle of MY hall!” Heyes said, through gritted teeth.

“No of course not, Pappy. It should stand against a wall, preferably blank – no hideous wallpaper and be the focal point.” She turned away. “We’ll move it into your study where you can look at it in private. Now … .”

Heyes and Mary looked at each other open mouthed.

“Nuove scarpe, Grumpy!” Alfie suddenly squealed, pointing at his feet, successfully distracting Heyes from murdering his daughter.

“Hmm, very nice.”