April 2019 - None of the above

Ooooh what to choose, what to choose...

I think I do have to in some way reflect our current parliamentary hoo-hah and failure to say 'Yes' to any option.



So...
Not terribly creative, but I have total faith in you all, let your fertile minds and fingers ponder


'None of the above'

“Mornin', Heyes. Where’s the Kid?”

Sheriff Lom Trevors did not so much as bat an eye as he entered his office from the cell area where he had been checking on the current occupant – just a local ranch hand who had whooped it up a bit too much the night before and was sleeping it off courtesy of the Porterville Sheriff Office -- to find the former outlaw gang leader and criminal mastermind Hannibal Heyes ensconced at his desk, helping himself to a cup of hot coffee.

Heyes grinned over the rim of the cup as a soft knock sounded on the side door.

Lom unlatched the lock and swung the door open to reveal a slightly annoyed Kid Curry, gloved fist raised, about to knock again.

“Howdy, Kid! I took your advice and finally got a lock on my side door,” Lom greeted him, hiding a slight smile behind his mustache.

Kid growled something that might have been a howdy and stepped through the door, pulling off his gloves and shoving them in his gunbelt.

“Well, I dunno why you’re so put out! You’re the one always said I should do it,” Lom chuckled to himself as he closed and latched the door.

The Kid accepted a steaming cup of coffee from his partner, who had gotten up to pour it during the previous exchange.

“Coffee, Lom?” Heyes offered a third cup to the sheriff, who took it absently and leaned against the wall to take a sip.
Heyes re-settled himself comfortably in Lom’s chair while his partner perched on the corner of the desk.

“So what brings you boys to Porterville?” Lom asked, straight-faced.

The partners exchanged a look.

“That’s not funny, Lom,” began Heyes. “You know why we’re here. Because you telegraphed us.”

“And we’re hopin’ it has something to do with our ‘mutual' friend,” added Curry.

“Sorry, boys. Don’t getcher hopes up too high. I did call you here for the governor’s sake, but it’s not the amnesty – yet. He’s got another job for ya.”

Curry put his cup down forcefully as he rose from the desk, scowling, looking as if he wanted to punch something or someone.

Heyes set his coffee down as well and sat up straight in the chair looking indignant. “Another errand for the governor? What’s it gonna be this time? Escort his prize French poodle to high tea? Trim his mustache for him? Lick his boots?!”

“Now, now, Heyes… None of the above,” Trevors attempted to placate him.

The attempt was interrupted by the opening of the front door. The diminutive figure of the local banker’s daughter, Miss Porter, stepped tentatively into the room, holding a dish covered by a cloth towel.

Heyes was on his feet in an instant. Lom pushed off from the wall and stood up straight. Curry stood a little straighter. The two former outlaws swept their hats from their heads gallantly and all three men chorused, “Good morning, Miss Porter.”

“Oh…” stammered the young woman characteristically. “What an unexpected yet delightful surprise! G-good morning, Th-- M-Mr. Jones, Mr. Smith, Lom -- er, Sheriff Trevors. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, no, Miss Porter, the boys were just passing through,” replied the sheriff.

Miss Porter, flummoxed, stood rather awkwardly, seemingly haven forgotten why she had stopped by.

“Whatcha got there, Miss Porter?” asked Heyes, coming to the rescue. “Something for Lom…?”

“Oh! Oh, yes. Lom -- I mean Sheriff Trevors -- I made an extra pie this morning. Currants. Well, you see I had enough currants for two pies, so I thought I shouldn’t waste them and why not make two pies and then I thought perhaps Sheriff Trevors would like a pie. Would you like a pie, L -- Sheriff?”

Heyes helpfully took the fragrant, cloth-covered dish from the nervous young woman, saying, “Sheriff Trevors would LOVE a currant pie, wouldn’t you, Sheriff Trevors? Mmmm. Smells delicious.”

“Thank you kindly, Miss Porter,” Lom said. Miss Porter's cheecks flushed. She stammered something about being late to open up the bank and scurried out the door.

“Lom, you sly old dog!” said Heyes, as soon as she was gone, lifting the corner of the cloth to inhale the aroma of the pie appreciatively. “You’re sparkin’ Miss Porter!”

Curry reached over, just about to scoop a taste of the pie with two fingers, when Lom slapped his hand away and took possession of the pie.

“Why, Lom,” Kid teased, “you’re blushin'.”

“I am not,” scoffed Lom. “I was helping a friend on his ranch this weekend and I got some sun. That’s all.”

The partners exchanged a knowing glance and grinned teasingly at the flustered lawman as he placed the pie on the sideboard with the coffee cups.

“More like she’s sparkin’ me,” he mumbled. “I’m way too old for that girl.”

“Aw, don’t be so humble, Lom. I’d say Miss Porter could do a lot worse than you,” Heyes cracked, looking pointedly at his partner.

Curry looked momentarily offended, but then his partner abruptly changed the subject.

“Let’s get back to the point. What does our “friend” want us to do this time?” Heyes demanded, sitting back down in Lom’s chair and taking another sip of his coffee.

“It’s an easy job. A friend of his has a daughter he’s sending to boarding school in Denver. He wants you to escort her from Cheyenne. And her governess. On the train.”

“Wonderful. Another babysitting job,” Curry muttered sarcastically.

“What does it pay?” asked Heyes, ever the businessman.

“One thousand dollars.”

“Apiece?” asked the Kid hopefully.

“No, for both of you. But that’s a good deal. A thousand dollars to ride on a train – and another chance to get in good with the governor.”

“Oh come on, Lom.” Heyes was on his feet again, pacing as he ranted, “He’s just playing with us. Like a cat plays with a mouse. I think he gets a kick seeing what he can make his "trained outlaws" do. Probably brags to all his rich friends about it.” Disgustedly, he sat down again.

“So you’ll take the job?” asked Lom.

“We’ll take the job,” both partners responded in unison and with the same dejected tone.

~~~~

Reddish brown dust was everywhere; flying through the air, making the whole world tinted the same color. Kid Curry led the horses toward the mouth of the mine, barely able to see in the dust squall. He had a bandanna over his face and the horses had spare shirts over theirs. Heyes was already inside; he’d helped his partner in first, and then gone back for their mounts. At least the foul weather meant they could rest awhile and take care of Heyes’ wound.

The blonde sagged in relief once they got inside, relieved to be away from the buffeting winds. He took the blindfold off of his face and unwrapped the shirts from around the horses. All three of them shook off, utterly covered in dust and sand. Kid tended them and hobbled them quickly before he grabbed his saddlebags.

He planned on doctoring Heyes’ wound whether his partner wanted him to or not. Kid recalled the sheer panic when he’d seen Heyes fall off his horse and the way his cousin had laid there all crumpled and still. By the time he’d turned around, Heyes had been back on his feet but unsteady. Even though he’d remounted and said he was fine, Kid still worried. It had been a hard fall and he knew Heyes had been hit.

“Okay Heyes, time for me to see if it really was just a graze,” Kid said as he walked into the next chamber of the mine. He froze on seeing his partner being dangled over a mine shaft with a man looming over him. No, not just any man. Horace Whitaker. He’d run with Lobo back in the day, but he’d been too erratic and bloodthirsty to stay with the Devil’s Hole Gang. Kid was instantly furious—Heyes was already hurt and it looked like Whitaker had done a number on him—but a fast draw wouldn’t matter if his friend fell.

“Come on up close to your partner, Kid. Drop the bags real slow. If you do it right, maybe I don’t drop your partner down this mine shaft.”

Kid complied. “Now what?”

“Well, Kid, here’re the choices I was givin’ your partner. I can drop him down this mine shaft and we can all hope it ain’t deep enough to kill him; you can hunker down with me in here after you give me your haul, or I can shoot you both right now. What’s your pick?”

Heyes glanced backwards and he and Curry exchanged glances. He tried to reassure his friend but knew he wasn’t fooling anyone when he smiled. “How about, ‘none of the above’?”

Whitaker leaned Heyes further out over the shaft, almost dropping him. Kid, not Heyes, winced.

“We don’t have a haul, Horace,” Kid said. “The most we got between us is two hundred dollars. If you want to take that as the price of sharin’ a shelter, fine. I’ll get my half out of my coat if it won’t make you nervous. Just don’t drop him.”

Whitaker looked at the gunslinger who was giving him a cold look. “You tellin' the truth?”

“Yes.” Kid’s fist clenched. His fast draw wouldn’t do any good in this situation; if he shot Horace, he’d drop Heyes who was already injured and Curry wasn’t going to let him get hurt again, not even if he had to do something foolish to stop it.

Whitaker and the Kid stared at each other until finally Whitaker threw Heyes as hard as he could in Kid’s direction.
Kid caught his partner by instinct and Whitaker used the time to point the gun directly at them. Scowling, Kid looked at his partner and gently sat him down against the wall.

“You okay?” He asked, even though it was obvious he wasn’t.

“Wonderful,” Heyes muttered. The dark-haired man had blood running down from his dark hair, bruises on his jaw, a shiner, and his mouth was bleeding on top of the graze he’d already had on his side. Kid scowled.

“Curry, you can stand on up away from him,” Whitaker said.

Kid straightened up and eyed the man and the fact the gun was pointed directly at his partner. He stepped forward, subtly moving in front of Heyes.

“Don’t move,” Horace snapped. “I will shoot. I could use twenty thousand dollars.”

Heyes grimaced. He’d heard the adage bad things came in threes, but it seemed to be doubled for them. They’d been spotted and chased by a posse, he’d been hit and knocked off his horse, and the dust storm which caused them to shelter in the mine had led them straight into Horace Whitaker. He wasn’t sure who’d been more surprised; him or Horace. The man was a cattle rustler and a dry-gulcher who unfortunately had already had his gun out and pistol whipped Heyes. Kid was clearly thinking of making a move, though, no doubt feeling overprotective. Heyes caught his eye.

I’m risking it. Kid’s expression said. Back me up.

Let’s come up with a plan first. Heyes replied silently, knowing his partner understood. They were close enough that words weren’t necessary.

Kid merely looked at Whitaker and Heyes knew the sole plan was for Kid to draw and risk a shot. He’d just have to back him up as best he could.

“There’s only one problem,” Heyes said loudly to their foe.

“Yeah?” Whitaker asked.

“You forgot about the price on your own head,” Heyes said sensibly.

With the man’s attention on his partner, Kid Curry whipped out his gun and fired and then tackled the man.

“Kid,” Heyes snapped, annoyed at the risk his partner had taken.

Horace Whitaker had turned toward Kid but only managed to get shot in the arm and knocked backward to the ground, hitting his head on a rock.

Kid got up and started feeling the man for more weapons, which he had in plenty. “What?” he asked Heyes, his own voice tinted with annoyance at his partner’s tone.

“Was that really necessary?”

Kid looked up at Heyes and grinned. “Which part? Me coming up with the plan or saving our skin?”

“That wasn’t a plan, that was…idiocy. He was already unarmed; did you have to tackle him?”

“As you can see, he had a whole lot of other weapons. I just wanted to make sure he was down,” Kid replied, turning the man over and tying him. He tied Whitaker’s bandanna around the arm injury and looked at the man’s head wound. It didn’t seem too bad.

To be honest, Kid hadn’t been thinking, he’d been reacting, and he didn’t regret it, since Heyes was alive to fuss at him. “Heyes, I’m going to carry him into one of the tunnels, think you can stay out of trouble for five minutes?”

The blonde didn’t stay around to hear his friend’s terse response; he just hauled the unconscious man down the next
path and resisted the urge to drop him down a shaft. He saw a felled beam on the ground, though, and got an idea. He laid the man on top of it and then he tied a blindfold over his eyes. He finished just in time for the man to wake.

“Wha—?”

“Don’t move too much, Whitaker. You’re tied up and blindfolded on a beam over a mine shaft. I’d stay put if I were you.”

Whitaker swallowed. “I…I wasn’t really gonna drop Heyes, Kid.”

“I sure hope not, Horace. Well, have a good night.”

“You’re gonna leave me here??”

“Sure am,” Kid replied. “But I tell you what. If you stay quiet and don’t make a peep all night, I’ll come get you in the mornin’. Can you do that?”

Whitaker nodded.

“See you in a few hours.”

“Don’t leave me!”

“Whitaker, I said if you stay quiet , I’d come back.”

The man closed his mouth and Kid smiled. After all, the man had no idea the beam was safely on the floor. Maybe Heyes could still get some much needed sleep after all. He headed back to his partner and once again picked up the saddlebags so that he could take care of Heyes.

“He’s awful quiet,” Heyes said.

Kid smirked and told him the reason.

“Wow, Kid.”

“What? You think it’s too much?” Kid looked at his friend, feeling a little guilty.

“No. Just wish I’d thought of it,” Heyes replied with a smile. “That’s the kind of plan I approve of.”