March 19 - Smoking Gun

Hello one, hello all...

I was mildly tempted to come up with a challenge reflecting the current impasse in our Parliament as we splutter and stall over making any move in any direction, and just circle repeatedly ... In/Out In/Out Shake it all about...

However, I have been offered a suggestion or two for the LIST,

So I invite you to unscrew the cap of your best fountain pen, don a Sherlock Holmes deerstalker, (or maybe a Poirot Moustache) and contemplate the


SMOKING GUN

and... type.

First out of the blocks this month, this sort of follows on from last month. Heyes and Curry have delivered the pearls safely to Lom.


“Ah, Sheriff Trevors come in. Do take a seat,” Governor John Wesley Hoyt said, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.


“Governor, thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Lom said, quickly taking the chair offered.


“You were lucky I had a gap.”


Governor Hoyt leaned on the desk and wrung his hands. “I think I can guess why you’re here, Sheriff. Heyes and Curry correct?”


“Yes sir.” Lom reached into his pocket and pulled out the pouch. “They did what you asked.” He put the pouch onto the desk. He wasn’t surprised when Governor Hoyt swept it quickly into his desk drawer.

“They keep doing things for you sir. Or for friends of yours,” he started slowly. “How much longer?”


“I know they do,” Hoyt sighed, shrugged and spread his hands. “How much longer? What can I tell you?
It’s politically …. .”


“You keep telling ME this and I keep telling THEM that,” Lom interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.

“Governor, there’s only so many times you can string ‘em along with that excuse.”


“Are you threatening me, Trevors?” Hoyt barked.


Lom sat back. “No sir, I’m very concerned for their welfare that’s all.” His tongue explored his mouth.

“They’re not doing too well. Either of them. The anxiety they’re going through is beginning to show. I’m worried about them both but Heyes in particular.”


“Are you saying you think they may go back to robbing?”


“No sir I firmly believe they surely don’t want to do that. They’re trying real hard but frustrated that they don’t seem to be getting anywhere. You can’t blame them for thinking that … the amnesty might never happen. Their wanted posters say dead or alive. No one was even hurt in any of their robberies, let alone killed. They’re living each day in fear that they’ll run into someone who could kill them. They believe they’re living without hope. That don’t seem right to me.”


“You told me at the beginning that there was never any casualties and I know that from the records.”


“Then why is dead or alive there? And such a high amount? That’s a fortune.” Lom knew why but he wanted the Governor to tell him. Keep it in his mind.


Hoyt sighed. “That’s the railroads and the banks idea. They wanted Heyes and Curry stopped and were prepared to pay that much to get it done. They don’t care how it happens just that it’s done.” Hoyt paused. “I’m in a dilemma, Sheriff Trevors. I know that Heyes and Curry are trying. I admire them for turning round some impossible situations that, to all intents and purposes, seemed like a smoking gun at first glance.” He paused again and licked his lips.


“You’re concerned about Heyes you say?”


“Yes sir.”


Hoyt looked to be having a battle with himself and then he appeared to make some kind of a decision. To Lom’s surprise, Hoyt got up abruptly and strode to the bookshelves. He selected a book, sighed and leafed through the pages until he found what he was looking for.


“What do you make of that, Sheriff?”


He handed Lom the book, opened at the selected page. Lom blinked. The book was a quarterly binding of the weekly publication, Scientific American. The journal Hoyt had opened was from February 1882 and the title was “The Mechanics of Robbery”.


Lom glanced at Hoyt who was perched on the edge of his desk.


“Read it Sheriff. I think you’ll find it very interesting.”


Lom bent his head to do just that. He widened his eyes when he read aloud,


“This method of blowing a safe was invented by the notorious outlaw, Hannibal Heyes, when he and his partner, Kid Curry, robbed the Merchant’s Bank in Denver, Colorado, June 1879. (Both men are currently still at large. 1882)”


Lom looked up, confused. “But this is a matter of public record.”


“Yes, it is but I wasn't aware of all the facts until I read that paper,” Hoyt agreed. “There’s a couple of things that are left out. Perhaps to stop someone else imitating this robbery. Two important and deliberate things. Continue reading, Sheriff.”


“It should be noted in particular for its ingenious use of nitro glycerine as the propellant, coupled with the creation of a vacuum to enhance the explosive properties. It should also be noted that this method makes very little sound, making it ideal for use in bank robbery!”


“The article goes onto list the equipment used,” Hoyt said. “Except for two things: one is fairly obvious; the other only hinted at.”


Lom had a fair idea how Heyes had blown the Pierce and Hamilton 1878 and the equipment used.


“Such as Governor?” he asked, wanting no misunderstanding.


“It’s fairly obvious that the criminals would need some kind of timepiece. The process relies on accurate timings. An alarm clock perhaps?” Hoyt paused. “In order to create a vacuum, one first has to make sure that the safe is airtight. That’s eluded to in the article but not specifically detailed. Now I know that the public records of this incident said that there was putty found at the scene. I checked just to be sure. I also found that the putty left behind was a particular brand. Red Seal Putty, the quick drying variant. Now that WASN’T in the public record but it’s perfect for this type of er … operation. The ordinary type wouldn’t do the job properly in the time. It may APPEAR to but it wouldn’t create a GOOD ENOUGH seal. An unknowing perpetrator would blow the safe up and himself with it. No, this was well thought out by a clever mind.”


“So, the writer musta thought it deserved a mention, in what I presume is a creditable academic journal.”


“Indeed,” Hoyt agreed and hesitated. “Do you know who the author is, Sheriff Trevors?”


Lom’s eyes flicked back to the book. “Nial H Benshaye?” He pulled a face and shrugged. “Probably a young professor wanting to make a name for himself?”


Hoyt gave a rare grin and took the book back. “Oh noo! That’s exactly what I thought at first. Took me a while to figure it out.”


He returned to his side of the desk and his chair.


“Nial H Benshaye is an anagram of Hannibal Heyes.”


Lom’s eyes widened and so did his mouth. Oh s**t, he thought. He groaned and rubbed his forehead in despair.


Hoyt leaned back in his chair and tapped the book thoughtfully.


“I think Hannibal Heyes is a lot, lot smarter than we’ve previously given him credit for. However, I don’t think he wrote that article out of bravado. He was sending me a message, knowing that I’m a man of science and likely to read and have published papers in that very publication. Which I do and have. The fact that he left out the type of putty means he’s well aware of its importance and what I might make of it.” He paused and then said deliberately. “I would hate to think a man THAT smart would return to his previous criminal activities. The law, as we know it, doesn’t stand a chance.”


Lom looked up sharply.


Hoyt looked thoughtful. “I have to ponder on this some more, Sheriff. Can you come back tomorrow? About this time?”


Lom had been planning to start for home after this meeting but if there was a possibility … no, no, he didn’t even want to think it. Instead, he nodded.


“Yes Governor, I can come back tomorrow.”


ASJASJASJASJ


When Lom entered the Governor’s office he next day, the first things he saw on the edge of the desk were two white envelopes, one marked Mr H Heyes, the other Mr J Curry. The Governor himself had his back to him, looking out of the window. He didn’t acknowledge Lom but started to speak.


“I’ve thought long and hard about this overnight and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re right. They’ve more than proved themselves and there is no point continuing this charade. I have two options. Either I renew the law’s efforts to bring them in or grant the amnesty. I don’t think the former, under the circumstances, will bear fruit and I can foresee Mr Heyes and Mr Curry being somewhat AGGREIVED with that course of action. No doubt, they would extract their revenge in a most spectacular way. One that would cause me considerable embarrassment. Especially should word get out that I had promised an amnesty and not made good on my promise. I've no doubt THEY would make sure of that.”


Hoyt turned from the window.


“So I have granted their amnesty. I don’t consider this blackmail, simply the action of two desperate and justifiably so, men. There in those envelopes are the papers. All I need do is sign them and they’re official. However, before I do I wanted to talk to you first.”


He sat heavily in his chair and motioned for Lom to do so as well.


“Yes sir.” Lom was having trouble keeping a straight face when all it wanted to do was beam. He’d done it! He’d got Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, the two most successful outlaws in the history of the West, amnesty! Right here in front of him, in these two envelopes.


“What kind of men are they, Sheriff Trevors? I know about their reputations but reputations are sometimes exaggerated. I’ve also read some of the dime novel stories about them.” Hoyt rolled his eyes at admitting that he had done so. Despite himself, Lom smiled at an image of the Governor of Wyoming, a solemn and serious man, sat in front of a fire reading a dime novel. “Yet I don’t think either give me a full picture of these two men. I’m beginning to realise that there is more to them than meets the eye.”


“Yes sir. There is.” Lom licked his lips, realising what he said now was crucial. The amnesties weren’t yet signed and Hoyt could still change his mind.


“Start with Curry,” Hoyt prompted. “The gunman.”


Lom shook his head. “No sir. That’s one thing he’s not. Yeah, the Kid’s fast on the draw there’s no denying but he doesn’t show off and he doesn’t broadcast his speed. In fact, he goes outta his way to avoid having to draw at all. If he does, he rarely has to pull the trigger. His speed is usually enough to get the other fella to back down. When he’s HAD to pull the trigger, he’s aimed for an arm or a leg.”


“He’s never shot to kill?”


“No sir.” After the Bilson incident, Heyes and Curry had resolved to keep it between themselves so Lom was unaware of what happened in Matherville.


Hoyt sat back and linked his fingers over his stomach. “Hmmm. Of the two of them, because of that reputation, granting his amnesty is the hardest to justify.” He sighed. “But I suppose details can be checked and substantiated.”


“Yes sir and I’ll stake my badge that you won’t find anything different to what I’ve just told you.”


Hoyt nodded. “You’ve hinted at someone who has a high regard for his fellow man. Tell me more about
the man.”


“Yes sir he does. He doesn’t like to see injustice or folks down on their luck. If he’s in a position to help then he will. Heyes is always ribbing him about helping the needy folk.”


“Heyes won’t?”


“No sir it’s not that. Heyes is more suspicious, more cynical. He’ll look for an angle first.”


“Sometimes that’s the best way to be.”


“Yes sir. It can be. Y’see they complement each other, work as a team. They keep each other in check. I don’t think either would do very well without the other.”


“And Heyes?”


Lom grunted. “Heyes is more difficult to read, a closed book. Yet every now and then, a crack will appear and you catch a glimpse of the man underneath. He won’t thank me for telling you this Governor but there’s a vulnerability about him. I think he likes to make sure that isn’t exposed too often so he is what he is, thoughtful and cautious and meticulous. He doesn’t like to leave things to chance.”


“Like writing the article?”


“I guess so.”


Hoyt sat considering for a long while. Lom shifted uncomfortably. Had he said too much? Had he said something wrong? Had he scuppered the amnesty at the last minute?


“And what will they do? If I grant their amnesty?”


Lom was relieved. Perhaps he hadn’t ruined their chances after all. Yet this was a difficult question and he didn’t know the answer. He would just have to go on his gut and hope.


“To be honest sir I don’t know for sure. They haven’t confided in me and in truth I don’t think they’ve given it much thought. I don’t think they wanted to contemplate what happens after, in case … .”


“But what do YOU think?”


Now Lom was on the spot.


“I think they can turn their hands to anything if they’re of a mind,” he started, slowly. “Whatever they decide to do you can be sure they won’t rush into anything. They’ll give it careful thought discuss it fully. They know this is their only chance and they don’t wanna mess it up. They’ve gone through too much to get this far.”


“Are they in contact with any of their old friends?”


Lom shook his head. “Not as far as I know,” he said, honestly. “They’ve tried to put as much distance from that life as they can.”


Hoyt nodded and reached forward for the two envelopes. He pulled them slowly towards him.


“Very well I will sign their amnesties. However, there are certain conditions that you should make very clear to them.”


Lom nodded eagerly.


“The first and most important is that if they perpetrate a crime, any crime within five years then the amnesty can and will be rescinded and their entire record of criminal activities will be taken into account. That’s not just in Wyoming, Sheriff. That applies to any state in the Union.”


Lom nodded. “I understand.”


“The second condition is that they will have no contact with any known criminal for the same five years.”
Lom nodded. “I understand.”


Hoyt shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I hope you do, Sheriff, because in light of what you’ve just said to me, I’m going to add a third condition and that may prove difficult for you.” He licked his lips before going on. “For personal reasons that I’m not going to go into here I don’t intend to make this public for another six months.” Lom opened his mouth to protest but Hoyt stopped him. “Let me finish. I’m aware of the consequences that will have for Mr Heyes and Mr Curry but that’s where you come in. I want you to keep them gainfully employed in Porterville until the end of the year. Under your supervision, they shouldn’t come to any harm. It will also give them a safe place to be while they think about their future.”


Lom nodded and rubbed a hand over his face. How on earth could he keep these two free spirits anchored to Porterville for six months? As if reading his thoughts, Hoyt continued.


“Of course they can LEAVE Porterville if they so wish. The amnesty would still be in place BUT if they do leave, they run a grave risk. All their efforts, and yours, would be for nothing if they were killed. I suggest you impress upon them, most strongly, that six months of town arrest is in their best interests.”


Hoyt gave Lom a hard stare.


“Do we have a deal, Sheriff?”


“Yes sir. I’ll think of something to keep ‘em in Porterville for six months.” If it kills me, he added to himself.


“Very well. I’ll add that condition to the official record here.”


Hoyt slid an official looking document from the first envelope, plucked out a pen from the inkwell, hesitated before quickly adding his signature to the bottom. He blotted it carefully then slid document and envelope to Lom to reassemble. Lom noted it was the one for Heyes. The Governor had seemed more comfortable about giving amnesty to him.


“The letter in each envelope sets out the conditions under which I have granted these amnesties. There are a few other minor ones but I’ve mentioned the important ones. I stress again, if you care for these two men and I can see by your face that you do, then insisting they stay in Porterville for six months is just as important.”


Hoyt now had the second document in front of him and he hesitated.


“Heyes has control over Curry?” he barked.


“No sir,” Lom said, quietly. “Curry is his own man but what Heyes can do and does is influence him. Curry makes his own decisions but he listens to Heyes. Like I said before they’re a team.”


“Does Heyes back Curry up?”


“If it’s the only way and it’s the right thing to do.”


Hoyt nodded. Before he could change his mind, he repeated signing and blotting. He pushed it across to Lom to reassemble the second envelope.


Securing both precious envelopes, Lom pushed himself up.


“Thank you Governor. You won’t hear of Heyes and Curry in a negative way again.”


“I hope not Sheriff.” He leaned forward and offered his hand.


After a shake, Lom was walking out ten inches above the floor. Now all he had to do was find Heyes and the Kid and tell them the good news. At their last meeting, the two now former outlaws had been despondent. He hoped he could find them in time before they did something they ALL would regret.

Notes:
The above is set in late June 1882.


Dr John Wesley Hoyt was Governor of the Territory of Wyoming between May 1878 and August 1882. This later date is significant as he was about to resign and may even have done so, although not made public, by the time Lom goes to see him. Hoyt was a Professor of Chemistry and was well respected as a scientist and educator. He would return to Wyoming in 1887 and became the first President of the University of Wyoming.

A Day Early, A Dollar Short - Chapter 7

Heyes sagged into the filthy cot.  His brain was still fuzzy with fever but he’d heard everything--Mac’s startling confession along with Jed’s stubborn refusal to take the papers and go.  The last of his strength slipped away and his mind spun with gruesome memories and imaginings, both his and Mac’s families horribly intertwined as their deaths played out in his nightmares.

Angered and shaken by how much he’d revealed to Curry, Mac brooded until the first light of the new day filtered in through a hole in the cabin’s chinking.  Soft snores emanated from the Kid, but Heyes was shifting about causing the bed to creak.  He’d spent the long night thinking about the two outlaws.  He’d always heard Heyes was the brains of the outfit, but he’d also heard Kid Curry was a stone-cold killer and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew it wasn’t true.  Curry was a man with his own code of honor just like him.  He respected that.  One other thing was crystal clear; the young gunman cared deeply for his leader.  Mac could use that.

“Curry, psst!” he whispered.  “Hey, wake up.”

The Kid bolted upright, awake, his hand dropping to his sidearm and his eyes cutting to Heyes.  “What the…?!”

“Don’t worry, he ain’t dead.”  Mac grinned.  Curry’s devotion to his partner was so painfully obvious.

Slumping with relief, the Kid rubbed his eyes wearily.  His lack of sleep and concern for Heyes was wearing him down.  Reacting without thinking was a dangerous place for him to be.  “What’d you wake me for?” he grumpily asked.

“You and me need to talk while your partner can’t hear us.”

“You and I don’t have anything to talk about.”

The smile slipped from Mac’s face.  “Sure we do.  You know as well as me, fevers burn a man up from the inside out and there ain’t enough of Heyes left to light a match.  If’n that fever don’t come down real soon, he’s gonna die.”

The Kid looked back at Heyes.  Dark hair lay matted on his forehead and his face was gaunt.  The fever had whittled away the little fat he’d carried.  Curry reached up and rested a hand against a bristled cheek.  The skin was hot but the fever had lessened overnight.  “He’s okay.”  

Mac smirked.  “For now.”  

The words pierced the Kid’s heart.  “What’re you sayin’?”
 
“He’s gettin’ weaker and you need to get ‘im a doctor.  By my calculations, we ain’t that far from Grand Lake.  There’ll be a doc there.  Can’t be more’n four, five hours at most.”

Blue eyes narrowed skeptically, “I ain’t leavin’ Heyes with you.”

“So take me with you.  Heyes’ is out of it.  He won’t know you left ‘im alone.”

“Like hell I will.  This place stunk of bear when we arrived.  You think I’m leavin’ my partner to get eaten by critters?”

“Then leave me with ‘im.  You got me tied up good.  I’ll keep watch.”

Not answering, the Kid considered Mac’s proposal.  He knew Heyes needed more care than he could provide.  Getting up, he tugged the bedding off Heyes’ leg then set about changing the dressing.  The ominous dilation of the veins had lessened but the wound was still producing pus.  The pine tar had done a good job of drawing out what it could, but there wasn’t much left.  What was going to happen when it ran out?  He carefully cleaned Heyes’ foot and bound it with more skunk cabbage leaves secured by a strip of torn cloth.  Intent on what he was doing, he’d failed to notice brown eyes following his every move.

“Kid,” said Heyes breathlessly.

“Hey. How’re y’doin’?”  Gently smiling, the Kid pulled the blankets up and shifted on the edge of the bed so that he was facing his friend.  Heyes looked better.  His eyes were still glazed but focused.

“Thirsty,” squeaked Heyes.

Curry dipped a mug into the pail of clean water and lifted Heyes’ head letting him take a few small sips.  “That’s enough.  Don’t want you gettin’ a bellyache.”  He lowered Heyes to the pile of rags serving as a pillow.  “Your fever’s down a bit.  You feelin’ any better?”  

“Feels like I’ve been trampled.”  

“Think you can eat somethin’?  I got porcupine dryin’.  Roasted it up last night.”

Heyes’ stomach lurched at the thought and his face grayed.  “No,…can’t.  I’ll pitch it up.”

Dissatisfied with that answer, the Kid’s fears intensified.  He wasn’t sure what he should do.  Cautiously he ventured, “I’m thinkin’ we’re pretty close to Grand Lake.”

Heyes nodded.  “Couple hours south.” Realization crept onto his face and his gaze sharpened, “You could get help.”

“Heyes…”

“No, listen, leave my gun.  Mac’s tied up.”

“What if he gets untied?”

“I’ll deal.  Please…go…I need a doctor.”  

Heyes never wanted to see doctors and the fact he was asking for one now terrified Kid Curry and dissolved the rest of his objections.

Having been listening to the two friends, Mac chimed in, “For God’s sake, Curry, you tryin’ to kill ‘im?  Man says he needs a doctor!”

The Kid rose, his fists clenched in fury, “Shut up!  We wouldn’t even be in this fix if’n it weren’t for you!”

“I din’t put you on a life of crime!” yelled Mac.  “You brought this on yourselves!  God’s punishin’ your wicked ways!”

Taking a step towards his prisoner, the Kid was caught short as Heyes grabbed his shirttail.  “Stop!”  Heyes coughed with the effort.  “Don’t matter how we got here.  Leave my pistol.  I’ll be fine.”

The Kid had swung back to his partner ready to argue but the waxy sheen on Heyes’ face caused the words to die on his lips.  He nodded curtly.  Furious about what he knew he had to do, he turned away from both men and started gathering up his gear.  “I’ll take both horses.  You won’t need ‘em and I can switch off, gallop the whole way.”

“Take my money, Mac’s too, if he has any.”

Curry roughly searched Mac’s pockets finding thirty-two dollars.  He pulled out the bills, a small key, and a folded knife, waving them in front of the other man’s face.  “Since I’m such a crook, guess I’ll take these.”  He turned to Mac’s saddle bags and dug through them, looking for weapons but finding a pair of handcuffs.  The key worked.  The Kid turned around and held the cuffs up enjoying the anger that flitted across Mac’s face.   “Let’s see you weasel your way outta these.”  He snapped them around Mac’s wrists and untying the rope to use as a lead.  “Guess I’m all right now with leavin’ you here.”  

“Take the papers,” croaked Heyes.  “Hire someone to ride to Denver.”

“Is that why you want me to go to Grand Lake?!” growled the Kid, searching his partner’s face for the truth.  It wasn’t beneath Heyes to manipulate the situation.  Even now.

“Look, there’s still time.”  Heyes shifted uncomfortably, but gave him a wan smile.  “It’ll give me peace knowing even if I don’t get it, you might.”    

“Damn it, Heyes!”  The Kid snatched up the torn envelope and shoved it into his jacket.  

“Use your compass…ride due south…don’t stray off course or you’ll never get back,” instructed Heyes as the Kid put the Schofield, a mug and pail of water, and a portion of dried porcupine by Heyes’ side.  Curry left another portion within Mac’s reach along with two full canteens, checked his prisoner’s bindings, gave a quick nod, and was gone.

Both Heyes and Mac listened to the sound of hoof beats fading away until silence fell.  Heyes rolled over and pointedly glared at Mac as he slipped his hand around the Schofield’s grip.  The two men watched each other.  Neither said a word and, after a while, Heyes’ eyes drooped.  Mac waited patiently until Heyes was sound asleep then began trying to work the cuffs loose.  He struggled purposely, chafing his wrists until they bled freely.  He’d tensed the muscles of his arm while keeping his hands relaxed as Curry had snapped on the cuffs.  It was an old trick he’d learned the hard way with one wily outlaw and he hoped now he could replicate it.

XXX

Recklessly driving the horses on, the Kid dangerously wove his way through the forest as fast as he dared concentrating on his path so the misgivings he had were driven from his mind.  Periodically, he fished out the compass, checking the direction--South.

XXX

Heyes awoke to Mac sawing the chain of the cuffs against the wooden post.  Disoriented by his fever, he lay still and let the rhythmic noise wash over him.  The steady sound quickly lulled him back to sleep.

XXX

Bloodied, sore, and desperate, Mac continued working the cuffs around his wrists while they chewed through the old wood.  One way or another, he planned to be long gone by the time Curry returned but he’d see Heyes in hell before he went.

XXX

Several hours into his ride, the Kid intersected a wagon trail.  He pulled the horses up and checked the compass.  Using a sock from his saddlebag, he flagged a tree where he exited the forest so he could easily find it again.  Turning onto the road, he vaulted from the bay onto the sorrel and picked up a fast gallop tugging the now rider-less horse along beside him.

It wasn’t long before he passed a small ranch.  Split rail fencing lined the side of the road and delineated the property.  A long road branched off through a gate and disappeared into distant trees.  Soon, he came to more homesteads and the road became smoother, steadily dropping elevation.  Within another hour, he glimpsed the deep blue waters of Grand Lake.  Tall, heavily forested mountains rose sharply from the banks of the lake and he could see a settlement of buildings clustered on the eastern shore.  Heartened, he drove on.

Nearing the outskirts of town, the Kid saw a young man hanging laundry on a clothesline in a front yard.  As he approached he called out, “Howdy, is there a doctor in town?  My partner’s been hurt.”

The man turned slightly and pointed to a two-story building down the street, yelling back, “Dr. Minner’s office’s upstairs, the Ore Building.”

“Much obliged.”  The Kid took in the weathered, peeling paint on the house and the grayed, well-worn clothing hanging from the line.  His eyes came back to the man as he reined to a stop.  “I’ve got some papers that need deliverin’ to the governor’s office in Denver as fast as possible.  You know someone who might want to make a quick thirty bucks?”  It was an exorbitant sum, but it had the effect the Kid was hoping for.

“I could help you out with that,” replied the man.

The Kid handed over the envelope and the money.  After shaking on the deal, he hurried away.

XXX

A shaft of sunlight filtered through a grimy, broken window pane and fell across the bed.  Slowly as the day wore on, the beam shifted across Heyes’ sleeping form until it reached his face.  He squinted and turned away from the harsh light.

Seeing the outlaw stirring, Mac ceased his sawing and shifted around the pole until he was facing Heyes, his raw, torn hands concealed behind him.  He’d managed to squeeze a cuff midway down his left hand and the iron grip of it was cutting off the blood supply causing him great pain but there was no way he’d let on he was hurting.  Heyes’ gaze briefly fell on him as the outlaw grabbed the mug left next to him and dipped it into the pail next to the bed.  His hand shook crazily as he lifted the water to his mouth slopping some onto the bed before he managed a few swallows.  Mac watched him trying to steady his hand but he couldn’t.  

Heyes dropped the mug and looked up, seeing the other man’s speculation. He scowled.  “Don’t get any bright ideas.  I’ve got six bullets and six chances to shoot you.”

Grinning, Mac shook his head.  “I got all sorts of ideas, but ain’t none of ‘em gonna do me a lick of good with these cuffs on.”

“Hmpf.”  Heyes swung his legs off the bed and, struggling, managed to sit up leaning against the wall behind the bed.  He was breathing hard like he’d run a mile, but he’d managed it.  Pulling the Schofield into his lap, he watched Mac watching him.

XXX  

The Kid took the stairs to the Ore Building two at a time until he reached the portico. A door stood to his left ornately labeled, “Dr. Philip Minner, General Practitioner.”  It shook as he rapped firmly but there was no answer.  He shouted, “Open up” several times until a man’s bespectacled head poked out through the door to the next office.

“Stop that racket!  Can’t you see Dr. Minner’s not in?”

The Kid walked over and stood in front of the door.  “Where is he?”

The man looked him up and down before sniffing dismissively.  “He’s at the Wilson place,” he said as though the Kid should know where that was.

His temper rising and his eyes growing cold, Curry leaned in towards the man and bit off his next words.  “Where…exactly…is that?”

The man swallowed dramatically, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and babbled, “Two miles outta town on the left.  Look for the lightnin’ struck tree and the swayback gray in the field.  Whitewashed…,” He inhaled to provide more detail but the intimidating stranger left before he could finish.

XXX

Heyes kept dozing off.  No matter how hard he fought it, he was too exhausted to keep watch.  In his dreams, he saw his father and Uncle working a two-handed crosscut saw making timbers for the barn they were building.  He was lying under the old oak tree by the creek with the noonday sun warming him.  Flies buzzed about his head as he struggled to stay awake.  In the distance, he could see Jed coming back with their lunch, a sack held in his hand.  Jed looked different.  Older maybe?  Before he could decide how or why, he saw the blond trip.  The sack sailed up into the air releasing scattered sheets.  A tornado appeared spiraling into the sky and drawing the papers and Jed upwards until they disappeared.  Heyes screamed in horror and jerked awake looking wildly about.  “Jed!”

Mac froze.  The pain in his hands was almost unbearable but he’d made no further progress getting the cuffs off.  Sawing through the wood was proving to be futile as well, the post was too thick.  He had one more trick up his sleeve but he had to wait for the right moment and act fast.  Not now.  Not while Heyes was alert.

Relieved it was all a dream, the outlaw sagged and closed his eyes.

XXX

Galloping towards town, the Kid saw a man in a bowler hat and a dark coat coming towards him on a bicycle.  Curry slowed to a walk hoping to avoid spooking the horses as they passed the unfamiliar conveyance.

Smiling, the man stopped and greeted him.  “Thank you, sir, for slowing.  Horses don’t seem to care for my mode of transportation.”

Curry noticed the black leather doctor’s bag tied to the back of the seat.  “Are you Dr. Minner?”  

“I am.”

The Kid swung out of his saddle.  “I need your help.  My partner’s sick.  He got shot in the foot a coupla days ago and infection’s set in.  He’s been spikin’ a fever.”

“Well, that was careless of him,” said the doctor, assuming an accident.  The two horses before him were sweated up and winded from a long ride.  “How far away is he?”

“A few hours north of here.”  

The doctor stiffened and he started to protest, “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“I’m sorry.  I ain’t got time for this,” the Kid’s Colt appeared in his hand like magic.  “Leave the bike.  You’re comin’ with me.”

Dr. Minner’s hands shot up.  “Please, don’t hurt me.  I have a family.”

“So do I Doc, and right now he needs your help.”  The Kid grabbed the doctor’s bag and gestured for the physician to mount Heyes’ horse.  

“I don’t know how to ride a horse!” protested Dr. Minner.

“You’re about to learn.”

XXX

It seemed liked he’d been waiting forever.  Heyes hadn’t made a peep in a long time and he was pretty sure the outlaw was sound asleep again, but Mac kept stalling.  He knew what he had to do.  He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  The shadows in the cabin were getting longer.  He had to do it now so he could be well away before Curry returned.  He took several deep breaths.  It was now or never.

He bit his shirt collar to keep from crying out and, with a desperate sharp upwards yank of his left arm he dislocated his thumb, sliding his damaged hand easily through the cuff. The pain was terrible and he began to hyperventilate through his clenched teeth as tears streamed down his face but he didn’t hesitate.  Mac leapt to his feet, his nerves hurtling him across the cabin where he snatched up a table leg.  Turning, he swung it over his head and charged at the sleeping man on the bed.

Heyes’ eyes opened.  His hand rose as if by its own volition, gripping the Schofield, and it fired, the bullet hitting Mac’s hand.  The table leg clattered to the floor as the older man’s momentum carried him forward, his bloodied hands outstretched and his mouth screaming his rage despite the smoking gun aimed at his heart.  The gun’s muzzle shifted slightly, barked again, and a second slug found its mark.  

Mac wobbled, nearly fell, but recovered clumsily and came to a halt.  His hands dropped and he stared stupidly at the newly-formed hole in his right foot.

Sol stood in the doorway and Ned stood up straight, making a scared squeak and not finishing untying Heyes’ bonds. Lydia moved behind Ned and to his credit he stayed in front of her, at least momentarily.

Heyes moved to stand up despite the fact his hands weren’t yet free. They almost were; he only needed a few more moments.

Ned was saying nothing and Lydia was making short little gasps as she tried to control herself. It was up to him. Hannibal Heyes took a small step forward so that Sol’s focus shifted, if only momentarily.

“Hello Sol,” Heyes said, but the man was still focused on Lydia.

Lydia whimpered.

Heyes raised his voice. “Is there something we can help you with?” He gave a charming, slightly sardonic smile.

Sol gave a little giggle, which made both Lydia and Ned flinch. “I’ll be takin’ the woman.”

“Now Sol, I c-cain’t think Jethro would like that,” Ned said, stuttering. He stayed in front of the saloon girl, but he was shaking.

“Run,” Sol said.

“W-what?”

“Run, boy,” he said.

Ned gulped. “Ain’t runnin.’ What happened to Lefty?”

Sol shifted his attention to Ned and Heyes worked the ropes behind his back hastily in response, wrists twisting in the ropes. Finally the binds loosened and he was free, though he kept his hands in the same position. Hannibal Heyes preferred to plan in advance, but he could improvise if needed. He would wait for an opportunity…or until he was desperate enough to act without one.

“He might not be dead…yet,” Sol replied with a grin.

Ned’s face went from terrified to grief-stricken and then angry. Heyes watched the man’s simple, straightforward face
show each emotion and saw the moment he decided to attack.

“Don’t,” Heyes said right as Ned put his head down and charged Sol.

Heyes winced as Sol slashed with the knife and Ned fell heavily. Lydia ran for the door but Heyes grabbed her and swung her behind him just before she passed by the killer. Sol was still too close; he would have caught her.
The killer held up the knife and smiled at them. The weapon didn’t glint like in the dime novels, but it may as well have; it was still extremely intimidating. For his part, Heyes showed no fear. He felt it, but didn’t show it.

“Your boss won’t like any of this,” Heyes said evenly.

Gunshots from somewhere outside momentarily surprised everyone and when he saw the knife tilt down and Lydia starting to run again, Heyes slammed into Sol with all of his weight.

The two men crashed to the ground.


Kid shot the gun out of the other rider’s hand and the scared man—Bart, apparently—stared at him.

“I had my gun out,” Bart said in an awed tone. “You still out shot me.” Then he swallowed and waited for the bullet that would end him.

Naturally Kid didn’t fire that shot, just gave the two men his steely glare.

“Regroup at the house!” the man who’d had the shotgun said, spurring his horse away from Kid.

Bart wheeled to join him and Kid made sure they were riding away before he headed for the source of gunfire he’d heard. It might be a tactical error not to chase them down and subdue them, but Curry was more worried about the trouble Heyes was in. He just knew the other shot had to do with his partner and so he spurred his horse on toward the source.

Soon enough Kid saw a line cabin and galloped toward it.


The knife was still in Sol’s hand and Heyes punched him, trying to take it. Sol was a thin man but he had the strength of a lunatic and he rolled over on top of Heyes. Lydia screamed.

Heyes hit him in the side and the man barely grunted. Instead, Sol threw a hit that clipped Heyes’ chin and made his teeth click together. His already wounded head throbbed in protest and he saw spots. He curled his hand into a fist regardless and gave Sol another body shot to the ribs and rolled sideways to get away.

Heyes nearly rolled right into Lydia who ran for the door.

“Don’t,” Heyes managed, but Sol got to his feet and went after her with the knife in his hand.

The dark haired man got to his knees, reached and grabbed a handful of Sol’s jeans. “Get Ned’s gun!”

Lydia flung open the door and looked back at Heyes with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The woman ran outside, getting as far away from Sol as possible and leaving him. Great.

The cabin’s door swung closed as Sol kicked Heyes and he fell back onto his behind. Sol covered the distance between them and raised the knife.

The door clattered open again. Heyes assumed Lydia had returned, but a gunshot sounded and there was a thump as the knife, and then Sol, dropped to the floor.

Heyes sat up to see his partner in the doorway, smoking gun in hand. “Kid,” he breathed.

“Heyes!” Kid ran over to him, hands gripping his arms. “You okay?”

Hannibal Heyes gave his partner a relieved smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’re you doin’ here already?”

“Don’t you mean, ‘It’s good to see you. Thanks for savin’ my hide?’” Kid asked as he returned Heyes’ smile with his own bright grin.

“It’s good to see you. Thanks for saving my hide,” Heyes said wryly. “But really, you aren’t due back yet.”

“Thought I’d surprise you and show up early for once,” Kid said as he looked his partner over and then went to tie up the semi-conscious Sol none too gently. “Good thing I did. I rode straight through, only rested an hour.”

Heyes paused, doing the math. “Wait… If you rode straight through, what took you so long to get here?”

He sounded so indignant that Kid turned to him after he’d finished tying up Sol.

“Oh you know me, Heyes,” Curry said. “I had to search the town, rescue a girl from gunmen, get here, search every dang line cabin on the property, and then have a shootout on horseback first. The usual.”

“You say that like it isn’t actually your usual,” Heyes replied. “You rescued a girl? Get seen by any sheriffs?”

“No, and she and her brother are the reason I knew what happened to you and where you were.”

Heyes looked apologetic. “Sorry. Thanks.”

Kid nodded and Heyes crouched by Ned, turning the man over to see the slash across his chest. The man groaned.

“Hey, he’s still alive. He tried to help us.”

“Us?” Kid questioned.

“Oh, yeah. You remember Lydia Love? Dance hall girl? We ran into her when we worked with Lom.”

“I remember her,” Kid said. “She’s here?”

“If she hasn’t run all the way to the next county by now,” Heyes replied, filling his partner in on everything that had happened.

Kid whistled. “And you say I always get into trouble when left alone.”

“You do,” Heyes insisted. They were both helping Ned, Kid grabbing a sheet and Heyes wrapping the long cut.

“So do you. We never should split up,” Kid replied.

“I’ll agree with you there.” Heyes sat back down, having fixed his erstwhile ally up the best he could.

“You okay?” Kid looked over his partner again, noticing the pinched look around the eyes.

“Fine.” Seeing Kid’s doubt, Heyes added, “I got hit in the head, but I’ll live.”

Kid nodded, but would keep an eye on him. “So what’re we gonna do now?”

“What, you didn’t show up with a plan?” Heyes asked as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His head was killing him and from the look of his partner, Kid was seriously fatigued.

“My plan was to come here and save your hide,” Kid said. “Mine’s done.”

“Hello?” Lydia slipped into the building. “Was that you, Thaddeus?”

On seeing him, she let out a joyous cry and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. Lydia looked confused when he politely caught her but pulled away.

Heyes couldn’t stop a small smile. Kid was chivalrous and wouldn’t want her in danger, but she was mistaken if she thought he’d welcome her warmly after everything.

“Lydia, I’m glad you didn’t get hurt after you left my partner,” he said.

“I… I was scared. But listen, there are horses outside. I think we should go to town and talk to the sheriff.”

Heyes and Kid sighed. One way or another, the law was going to be involved, but that didn’t mean they had to enjoy it.

“Ned’s hurt. Sol’s our prisoner. Can’t just leave them…the others would find them,” Heyes said.

“And what about the wife?” Kid asked. "Will Jethro hurt her?"

Heyes rolled his eyes. “She’s safe. Jethro' in love with her. Is the wagon still outside?”

“Yes,” Lydia said.

“Okay so we take them to town in the wagon and hope Jethro and Bart don’t come after us,” Heyes said.

"We take them into town?" Kid asked.

"Yes. Drop Sol at the sheriff's and Ned at the doctor's."

“All right. I’ll ride, just in case.” Kid wanted the maneuverability of a horse.

“Can you drive a wagon?” Heyes asked Lydia.

“Yes,” she said.

“Good. I’ll ride, too.” Heyes would keep an eye on the prisoner from the back. He walked outside to pull the wagon closer to the door and Lydia went to the Kid.

“Thaddeus…you don’t owe me a dance anymore,” she said. “I owe you, both of you, and I can’t make up for what I did. I’m so sorry. I’ve just never been so scared in all my life.”

Her voice wobbled and Kid frowned.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Lydia,” he said, and though his voice was perfectly polite, it was also distant, and she knew she’d lost any chance with him.

Kid put Sol over his shoulder and walked outside, dropping him into the back of the wagon.

Heyes was kneeling by Ned’s cousin Lefty, who was dead.

Kid walked over. “What about him?”

“Let’s put him in the cart. It will back our story and also, he’s Ned’s cousin. Doesn’t seem right to leave him here.” Heyes was sorry for Ned’s sake. The simple man had been dragged into a mess thanks to familial love.

“I’ll do it,” Kid said, bending down.

“I’ll get a blanket.” Heyes walked inside to fetch one.

“Joshua,” Lydia said when he entered the cabin. “I’m sorry. For…well, so many things. Getting you into this. Telling them about Thaddeus. Leaving.”

She looked down, her long lashes dotted with tears.

“Tell you what, Lydia, I forgive you,” Heyes said. He'd forgive his betrayal of her, but he wouldn't forget.

She looked up at him.

“But if you ever try to use Thaddeus against me like that again, you will regret it.” His voice was calm and perfectly level, but something in his gaze made her take a half step back.

Kid walked in and they loaded Ned into the back of the wagon, carrying him more gently. Heyes spread the blanket over Lefty and checked Sol’s bonds.

Lydia moved to the front of the wagon and Kid, ever the gentleman, helped her into the driver’s seat and gave her the reins. Heyes and Curry mounted their own horses.

“You ready?” Kid asked.

“As ever,” Heyes replied.

The two nodded at each other and rode off into the night, flanking the wagon.