June 19 A difference of opinion

Hello everyone!!

Waves from across the pond

A reasonably easy one for you this lovely month of flaming June

Engage your brains and don your thinking caps for


A difference of opinion

A bit of fluffiness, but I keep hearing them bickering... And since no one else has posted yet, I figured what the heck:


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“Looks like what we got here is a failure to communicate.”

“Naw,” Curry drawled, shaking his head slowly, his arms folded across his chest, “looks like what we got here is just a difference of opinion.”

“Well, that’s your opinion,” Heyes insisted.

“Yeah. A different one than yours.”

“C’mon, Kid, you can’t mean that you really don’t want to –"

“Yes, Heyes,” the Kid interrupted. “I do mean it! I don’t wanna! And no matter how much you try to use that silver tongue of yours on me, you ain’t gonna change my mind.”

“But, Kid – “

“NO.”

“Kid, hear me out. If you would just listen for a min—”

“No.”

Kid Curry strode purposely across the hotel room, his long legs covering the distance to the bureau in three long strides. He picked up his gunbelt and proceeded to strap it around his hips, fasten the buckle, and tie the rawhide thong around his thigh.

Hannibal Heyes hastened after him, demanding, “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

The Kid straightened and whirled around, his face betraying disbelief at the pot calling the kettle black. “Stubborn? Me stubborn? You’re the stubborn one that can’t take no for an answer. I told you. The answer is no.” This last was emphasized with a finger stabbing at his partner’s chest.

“But if you would just listen to reason,” the darker man wheedled as the kid checked his Colt, then twirled it around his finger several times before sliding it into its holster.

“I’ve been listening to you all afternoon, Heyes. My answer three hours ago was no. My answer one hour ago was no. And my answer now is  -- hmm, let me think -- still no!” Curry scooped up his saddlebags, turned on his heel and headed for the hotel room door.

“But, Kid, I don’t think you’re really considering the entire situation,” Heyes continued, grabbing his own saddlebags as the Kid swung the door open.

The Kid, about to step into the hall, stopped and turned back to face his partner in exasperation, deftly switching to his alias. “Joshua!” he barked, “What’s it gonna take to shut you up about this?!”
Curry continued down the hotel hallway, Heyes dogging his heels.

“I would definitely stop takling about it if you would just say yes,” he argued reasonably, keeping pace one step behind him.

Curry stopped in his tracks. Heyes had to draw up short so as not to ram into him from behind.

“NO!”

This last was shouted – loud enough to  startle a chambermaid walking toward them with an armload of towels. She flinched at the disturbance, then quickly lowered her eyes and brushed past them hastily.

"Shhh! You’re gonna attract attention,” Heyes scolded, almost whispering.

Curry lowered his voice as well and replied through gritted teeth, “I am not gonna attract attention. YOU are gonna attract attention because you can’t let this go!”

“I’m not the one shouting about it! Shouting is going to attract attention,” protested his partner, the picture of innocence. By this time, they were both descending the staircase into the lobby, shoulder to shoulder.

“Ya know what’ll really attract attention? When I flatten you, that’s what will attract attention! So just let this go before I have to flatten you.”

“You really wouldn’t flatten me over a silly little thing like – “

“It is NOT a silly little thing. It is a big, dumb, you-know-who kinda plan! And no matter how much you try to convince me I will never agree to it  and I don’t wanna hear another word about it.”

“But I don’t think you really understand the plan. If I could just explain it to you one more time.”

Ignoring the last comment, Curry approached the clerk’s desk where a mild-mannered, narrow-shouldered gent sporting extravagant whiskers hovered nervously.

“Fix us up our bill,” he demanded. “We’re checking out.”

“Yes, Mr. Jones.”

Heyes joined his partner at the counter and countermanded, “I beg your pardon, but what Mr. Jones here meant to say was that we’re staying another night.”

“Yes, Mr. Smith.”

“No, he did not. What Mr. Jones meant to say is what he said. We’re checkin’ out. Now.”

“Yes, Mr. Jones.”

“I’m afraid we really are not leaving yet,” Heyes persisted.

The poor clerk looked as if he was a spectator at a tennis match between two players of equal skill -- that is, two players of equal skill who were also glaring at each other fiercely
.
“It appears that you two gentlemen have a difference of opinion,” the clerk ventured meekly.

As it turned out Kid Curry meanwhile did what he did best: he checked out the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, he prepared something that looked like sandwiches to his partner.

When Heyes opened the door, his head popped up while his right dropped to the butt of his gun. Recognizing his partner, a genuine smile lit up his face.

“I’m glad, you finally got here, Heyes,” he said, obviously in best spirit. “You won’t believe it, but you will love it! This kind of ... well ... funny strong box holds no money, but supplies, nice and cool and fresh. Who would think of something like that?”

Heyes entered the room, relieved to see his partner well, but nevertheless scolding him. “Kid, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Gettin’ me somethin’ to eat. Lovemakin’ makes me hungry all the time,” the blond replied matter-of-factly.

“Everything makes you hungry all the time!” Heyes retorted. “Just look at you, Thaddeus! You not even took the time to get properly dressed! That’s anything but decent in a lady’s house.”

“What lady?” his partner mumbled; his voice muted by a rich slice of ham he just stuffed into his mouth.

Said lady took it as a call to enter the scene, too. She had thought about staying in bed, but decided to follow Not-Heyes instead. The plain thought was mind blowing: Hannibal Heyes was checking out her house and she was lying in bed, sleeping and snoring?! A part of her mind tried to convince her that it was impossible and no sign of sanity to believe what seemed to happen, but her heart was of a different kind of opinion. How often would she get a chance to meet the man of her dreams? And then she was supposed to stay in bed, faking a sane mind? Ha! No, sir! If she was going crazy now, she would at least enjoy it to her fullest!  

Yet she decided it was about time to bring some light into the darkness - literally. She tried to switch the light on, but the lamp refused its service. ‘A blackout? Now?’ she thought. ‘Just great. What else can go wrong tonight?’

Reality – or at least what felt like reality for her – distracted her mind. The cowboy of her dreams stood behind her kitchen counter with tousled, honey-colored hair, only dressed in his jeans and gun belt. The faint light seeping through the shutters caressed his bare chest. His boyish features and casual stance only enhanced his masculinity and sex appeal. It was the most appetizing thing she’d ever seen, here or elsewhere. She just couldn’t take her eyes off him.

The eyes of the man, who would probably deny being Kid Curry, widened, then he swallowed the big bite of food he was chewing at, almost choking. “Oh, I ... uh ... I apologize, ma’am. I didn’t know about you.” His baby-blues looked her up and down, sending a blissful shiver down her spine. “To be honest, your kind of dress, well ... ain’t quite up to scratch, too.”

A red flash of anger flushed her face. “Now wait a minute! You’re here without my invitation, in the middle of the night – in my kitchen! Whom do you blame of being indecent?”

Their eyes met. The male one’s wandered down her figure, drawing her attention with them. Suddenly she realized her outfit and the color of her face deepened. She used to sleep in her slip and an oversized tee-shirt. Considering the time period he was coming from, she must appear everything but decent, she had to admit. There just wasn’t much she could do about it, for the kitchen usually presented a distressing lack of clothing, and she would be damned if she would leave to miss any beat of whatever happened.

The blond man noticed the trouble she was in. He took another bite of his snack, then he turned around and grabbed his light-blue shirt from one of the barstools lined up along the counter. Shrugging into it he approached her slowly.

He snapped his fingers and indicated Not-Heyes something behind him. The owner of the place followed his gesture with her look and noticed a light leather jacket that she hadn’t seen before. Leapfrogging her dark-haired visitor, she grabbed it first and wrapped it around her shoulders. Still chewing, the curly one smiled at her before he turned around, edged around the counter and returned to his midnight snack.

She was following his every movement with her eyes as he walked away, admiring the setting of his shoulders, the confidence in his stance, the movement of his hips... He was definitely nobody she would push out of her bed – quite the opposite.

Chocolate-brown-eyes watched her watching his partner. He rolled his eyes and huffed. “Lost,” he stated, shaking his head.

He then started strolling through the kitchen, exploring the unfamiliar place and devices. His eyes where shining in bright curiosity and fascination. “I’d love to know what all the machines, dials and switches are for,” he murmured. “For some reason nothing happens when I turn those triggers...” He turned his head and noticed that his partner wasn’t listening, but working his way through his pile of sandwiches. “Heck, Kid, how can you eat in a situation like this?”

“Would it do us any good, if I’d starve?” the blond mumbled.

“Well...”

“Exactly!”

“Do you have any idea where we are?"

“Nope. But the food is excellent!”

“But you have to know something. It was you who brought us here!” the dark one complained.

“Who said it was me?”

“You went first, I just followed you.”

“Now, I admit you have a point there, but I just walked through that door like any time before, but instead of the backstreet I ended up here.”

“And where is here?”

“How should I know? Am I supposed to be the brains?”

“Have I really been looking out for you? I can’t understand why I should do such a fool thing like that. I’d be better off without you!”

“That’s what I told you before, but you wouldn’t listen to me!”

“Why should I? As you said, I do the thinking here! Your ideas are nothing but trouble. Just look where we ended up just because of you!”

“Thanks a lot! You wouldn’t make it one week without me, Hey... Joshua, and you know that!”

“I know!?” Dark-brown eyes sparkled in annoyance.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!? I’ll show you that I can! We can split up right here and now.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Just tell me where the heck is ‘here and now’!”

“Well ... I’m working on that,” Heyes shot back.

The blond just snorted.

“You can’t split up, Heyes,” a female voice chimed in. “Didn’t you tell me that bad things happen when you do so?”

“I don’t believe that,” Heyes answered ruefully, and looked sideways at his partner. “And don’t call me that. The name’s Smith.”

“It’s not, and I know it! You slipped, when you addressed your partner ‘Kid’,” she countered with a self-sufficient smile on her face. “And weren’t you scared when you didn’t see your partner when you arrived?”

“Well...”

“You were?” Kid Curry said, obviously very curious and interested in this topic.

“Nope.”

“He was?” the Kid asked, turning away from him and towards their host.

She nodded agreement. “He couldn’t think of anything else.”

A wide grin lit up the gunslinger’s face. Wherever they were, things took quite an interesting turn...

With sparkling eyes, he resumed his annihilation of food.

Astonished she watched him, wondering what would happen if he found out about ice cream and chocolate. Maybe he didn’t ever want to leave again? The combined thought of Kid Curry, bare skin and soft melting ice-cream flashed through her mind and inspired some quite delicious ideas.

But she knew Heyes was right: usually bad things happened when the boys separated. They could run out of chocolate and ice cream for example and where would they end up then?

Still tempted, she flirted with the thought of introducing him to the contents of her freezer as she suddenly noticed sounds, unfamiliar sounds emerging from somewhere in the house...

Scene from the Kid's new life post amnesty





“Well what d’ya think?”



The Kid and Cowdry stood side by side contemplating which of the three suits, hanging over the closet door the Kid should wear to a lavish Gala that evening. When Cowdry didn’t answer him the Kid looked at him, with a sigh.



“Well?”



Cowdry winced. “Its difficult to say, sir.”




“I know,” the Kid agreed. “That’s why I’m asking for ya opinion.”



“It’s not for me to say, sir.”



“Yes it is. I’ve asked ya to say. I’ve given ya PERMISSION to say.”



“I know sir. Thank you sir.”



When nothing more was forthcoming, the Kid growled. “Cowdry, help me make the right decision, huh? Isn’t that what I’m paying ya for?”



“I’m trying sir. Really I am.”


The Kid took a deep breath and pursed his lips. “Trouble is they’re identical.”


“Not quite sir. The linings are different colours, the cloth is different, the cut is slightly … .”



“They’re all BLACK!”


“Yes sir.”



More pondering.



“They’re identical to the untrained eye,” the Kid started slowly. His eyes slide towards Cowdry and grinned. “But we don’t have an untrained eye do we?” He turned to face Cowdry. “You’re trained in … .” The Kid waved his hands in frustration. “Valetry.”


“Not fully sir!” Cowdry spluttered. “I’m learning on the job now sir,” he added, quickly. He paused.
“The correct term is valeting sir.”


“Uh-huh, so consider this a test. Of your abilities so far.”



Cowdry’s face looked like he’d eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him.


“You’ve tried them all on sir,” he began.


“I have,” the Kid agreed with a nod.


“How did they feel sir? Which was the most comfortable?”


“Cowdry they’re SUITS! They’re not SUPPOSED to be comfortable!” Then inspiration seem to strike.

“Say did we ever find out what happened to my old suit?”


“No sir.”


“Pity, I coulda worn that,” the Kid said, with a big martyred sigh.


“No sir.” Cowdry shuddered. “You really couldn’t,” he added, under his breath.



“Huh?” the Kid frowned.



“It was grey sir. Tonight’s event calls for black sir,” Cowdry said, quickly, finishing with a beam reminiscent of one belonging to a dark haired former outlaw.


The Kid sighed, hands on hips, reminiscent of the same dark haired former outlaw.


“If it was you, which one would you prefer to wear?”


Cowdry winced. “I’m shaped a little differently to you sir,” he said, diplomatically. “It would only be a matter of opinion.”


“It’s your opinion I want!”


Cowdry gulped and took a deep breath. “All of them are appropriate. They are made by the three best tailors in Boston.”


“I know that,” the Kid said, mustering more patience from somewhere than he ever thought possible.

“Look, Caroline wants me to look my best tonight. How do I choose which one of these suits tailored by the best three tailors in Boston is the best?”


“That’s a difficult one sir.”


The Kid sat down and rubbed his forehead, wearily. “If I don’t pick the right one, she’ll know won’t she?”


“I believe so sir.”


The Kid groaned. He looked up suddenly. “Then maybe she can choose.”


He sprung up and headed for the interconnecting door. He threw it open and marched into the other bedroom.


“Caroline!”


Cowdry heard a small scream and widened his eyes. Mr Curry was unconventional to say the least. It did make life interesting. However, he wasn’t sure that Mrs Curry’s ladies maid would agree right at this moment.


“Sorry Margaret. Is Caroline here?”


“Madam is in the bathroom sir,” a flustered Margaret said.


Cowdry waited and winced.


“Sir! She’s in the bath!” Margaret was horrified.


Cowdry waited some more.


“Jed! Get OUT!”


The Kid returned, looking slightly embarrassed. “No joy there Cowdry,” he said, quickly, shutting the door. He cleared his throat. “We’re on our own.”


“You could toss a coin sir?” Cowdry offered.


“Naw! Need a three sided coin and not even HEYES has one of them,” The Kid muttered, contemplated the problem again as if a magical insight would suddenly provide the answer. “I bet HE could decide which suit to wear.”


“Perhaps you could … send an urgent telegram sir?” Cowdry said, dryly.


The Kid gave him a withering look.


“Sorry sir.”


The Kid gave the problem some more thought. He was fast reaching the conclusion that finding a three sided coin might be easier, when there was a knock on the door.


“Yeah?” he called, glad of the interruption.


Johnson came in.


“Sorry to disturb you sir. There’s a gentleman to see you.”


“For me?


“Yes sir. He left his card.”


Johnson handed it over.


The Kid pursed his lips but gave nothing away.


“Hmmm, okay. I’ll come down.”


Johnson held the door and the Kid marched through, only to pause in the threshold.


“Cowdry, this may take a while. I won’t have much time to change when I get back so pick a suit and put the other two back, will ya?” he said, with an amused smirk before disappearing.


Cowdry’s shoulders slumped.