April 2024 - Retirement

Hello one and all...

Well, WELL - I have now had a full four weeks since I left my old job - and, I did promise myself a month off before making my mind up between job hunting and retiring...

At the moment, retiring is feeling like - y'know - maybe which way the cookie might crumble.
Although, gosh, even thinking that makes me feel a tad - well -old


SO, this month your topic is; (and it is a fairly easy one given that the boys kinda did it)

RETIREMENT / RETIRING

Let the creativity flow

Retirement
April 2024 Challenge
Outlaw Days

Relaxing on the porch of the leader’s cabin at Devil’s Hole, Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes sat in comfortable rocking chairs. Their feet were balanced on the porch railing and each had a drink in their hand. The sun was shining and a light breeze was tickling the top of the trees. Life was good.

“Don’t like it, Heyes. Too many ways it can go wrong, especially without Wheat and Kyle along, Curry said.

"Just a first draft of the plan, Kid.” Excited, Heyes smiled widely as he pictured the gang executing this new plan. “You tell me where it needs tightening up and I’ll fix it. Counting on them two to be back from visiting Kyle’s ma by the end of this week,” Heyes answered.

“Well, the first thing is we know from experience that train ain’t never on time,” Curry pointed out.

“Granted. And that might be a problem. Let me think on it.”

Suddenly they sat up straight in unison, their attention fixed on the road into their camp as they heard three shots fired in rapid succession.

“Must be Hank and Riley returning with our supplies,” Curry said, but didn’t relax his scrutiny of the road. Security of their hiding place was part of his job as a co-leader of the Devil’s Hole Gang. The blond gunman took security very seriously.

They stood up together as a solo rider appeared. Curry’s hand hovered over his ever-present Colt.

“Hank, where’s Riley? What happened?” demanded Heyes.

“Riley’s coming. Nothing happened to him. Thought you might like to see this as soon as possible.” Hank dismounted and handed Curry a newspaper, who glanced at it, huffed, and gave it to Heyes. He read the lead article outside.

“Two Members of the Devil’s Hole Gang Held for Trial”

Last night two members of the infamous Devil’s Hole Gang, Wheat Carlson and Kyle Murtry, were arrested here in Mountain Steps. They are charged with yesterday’s robbery of our mercantile and shooting the owner. Mr. Gerald R. Major, proprietor, was shot in his left foot. He will survive. Trial for Carlson and Murtry will start in two weeks upon arrival of a Dakota Territory circuit judge. The Devil’s Hole gang has never been active in our part of the territory before. This has led to the speculation these two have broken away from the gang. Extra deputies have been hired to prevent escape from our Step Mountains jail.

Heyes looked at the date of the paper and said, “Hank, go find Riley but first tell Preacher and Wooly Williams I want to see them right now.”

Curry turned to his cousin. “I see that mind of yours goin’. What are you thinkin’?”

“Paper is from the twenty second so the robbery took place on the twenty first. Where were you on the twenty first?” Heyes answered with a question of his own.

Curry looked up, then smiled and snapped his fingers. “We robbed that bank in Bitter. We got the payroll we had heard was gonna be there. On the way home we hurrahed in West Ridge.”

Heyes matched his partner’s smile. “Exactly.”

Carrying a bottle of whiskey, Preacher approached them. Wooly Williams sheltered his half-closed eyes from the sunlight. He was notorious for preferring the night over the day. He had become the night guard for Devil’s Hole and was a perfect fit for the job.

“One question for you two. Were Wheat and Kyle with you all the time in West Ridge?”

Preacher answered, “You were there, Heyes. You know they were. They didn’t leave until noon the next day to go see Kyle’s sick ma.”

Wooly nodded his agreement. ‘We sure had fun there!”

“Good. Thanks. Me and the Kid spent the night with two very entertaining upstairs ladies. The Kid didn’t come down until breakfast.” Heyes smiled at the memory of the enchanting Maureen. He’d have to visit her again soon.

Preacher and Wooly retreated to the bunkhouse.

Bringing out their bottle of whiskey, Curry refilled their glasses. “So, the robbery occurred on the twenty first and Wheat and Kyle were with us in West Ridge that day and night. Doesn’t help, Heyes; we can’t testify in a court trial. We’d get arrested.”

With a twinkle in his brown eyes, Heyes answered, “Yeah, I got a plan for that.”

ASJ*****ASJ

Porterville…

Hannibal Heyes surreptitiously looked in the window of the Porterville’s sheriff before opening the door. “Hi, Lom,” he said.

Working at his desk, Sheriff Lom Trevors went to grab his gun when he heard the distinctive click from a Colt.

“Now, Lom, that ain’t no way to greet friends,” Kid Curry said from his left.

“I got to put a the lock on that back door,” Lom growled.

“So?” Heyes said with a wink.

“What do you want, boys? Heyes pull those curtains shut before someone sees you…and lock the front door,” Lom said, without taking a breath. “You can put the gun away, Kid. What do you two want?”

“Lom, can’t two friends come just to say hello,” asked Heyes.

Lom looked from one of the boys to the other. “Not you two. Now I repeat, what do you want?”

“Your help to save two old friends,” Heyes said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and relaxing in the chair in front of Lom’s desk.

“I heard Wheat and Kyle were on trial but I can’t help them.”

“But you can try. What if you testified at the trial that two men you’d trust with your life swore to you that they were with them in West Ridge that night?” Heyes asked him.

And it got Lom to thinking. “You swear to me you were with them that night?”

“I do,” answered Heyes.

“Me, too,” added Curry.

So, Lom, you think that might help them?”

“It might help them get out of this charge, but they’re both wanted in Wyoming. I don’t want to hear what will happen after the trial.

Heyes smiled. “Want some coffee, Lom?”

Nodding, Lom answered, “That’s what I thought. I’ll testify and we’ll see what happens.”

“Thanks, and Lom, something to think about,” added Heyes.

“What’s that?” Lom gave Heyes a suspicious look.

“Well, how many people do you know that have been shot in the left foot?”

“A few. Happened when they’re cleaning their gun and it goes off accidentally,” Lom answered. Heyes had planted the seed and Lom’s brain was going fast. “What if the mercantile owner shot himself by accident and lied about the robbery to cover his embarrassment…and then the next day he sees Wheat and Kyle traveling through town and identifies them as the ones who robbed him? Maybe, just maybe. Think I’ll get there a day or two early and talk to the sheriff there. Make sure he thinks of this.”


ASJ*****ASJ

Dressed in their new dark suits and white shirts, Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes were sitting on a bench in back of the livery where they couldn’t be seen from the street. They didn’t want to take the chance of being recognized. From the nearby alley they could see the front door of the school house which was being used as the courthouse. Heyes stood up. “Gonna check on the horses.”

A young boy came running out of the makeshift court house. “The jurors are back. The jurors are back.”

Without a word, the partners walked in step to the side down of the schoolhouse and slipped in. They slipped into a back row of chairs, next to Sheriff Lom Trevors, who nodded but gave no other sign of recognition. Wheat and Kyle were led in from a back room.

A large smile broke across Kyle’s face as he leaned toward his partner and whispered loudly, “Hey Wheat, look it’s the…”

Wheat cut him off quickly. “Yeah, it’s our lawyer. He’s waiting for us to be seated and be QUIET!”

Curry breathed a sigh of relief that Kyle didn’t make his presence known. A door opened and the clerk announced, “All rise,” as the judge walked in and took his place. He was followed by the men of the jury as the clerk said, “For the record: The jurors were in retirement for three hours and eighteen minutes.”

“Seemed longer than that,” Heyes whispered to Curry and drew a dirty look for talking from Lom.

“Defendants, please stand.”

“That’s us,” Wheat said to Kyle.

“Jury Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Judge, we have.”

The judge held out his hand for the paper in the foreman’s hand, read it, and handed it back. “Please read it to the court.”

The foreman cleared his throat and said, “We find the defendants, Whittier Carlson and Kyle Murtry, not guilty.”

Curry let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding as he heard the man they had paid to yell, “Drinks for everyone on me over in the saloon!”

In the confusion, Heyes and Curry slipped out the side door, slipped badges onto their vests, and headed to get the four horses they had secured behind the livery. Then they went to the sheriff’s office.

“Heyes, you think those US Marshals that we stopped on the way here and stole their badges will stay tied up?” asked Curry.

“Even we couldn’t get away from the way I restrained them. They’ll be fine and we’ll let Lom know where that old farmhouse we left them in is. We’ll even give them their badges back.”

“Don’t know they’ll want them after what I did to them.”

They stopped outside the sheriff’s door and looked at each other. Their years together taught them to communicate wordlessly. This was the most dangerous part of Heyes’ plan, but they couldn’t think of anything other way.

Heyes knocked then walked in before waiting for an answer. The sheriff was just finishing locking Wheat and Kyle into the two cells of his jail and had his back to the door.

“Sheriff, we’re from headquarters to transport two wanted outlaws to Cheyenne,” Heyes told the startled man.

“You were expecting us, were you not?” asked Curry.

“Yeah, yeah, just not this soon. I’ll need to see your paperwork.”

Heyes fished in his pocket for the papers they had taken off of the marshals. “You should find everything in order. We’d like to get going right now while we still have sunlight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Don’t need to read them, just want to see you have them.” The sheriff was anxious to get to the free drinks at the saloon. “Please sign the transfer paper on my desk and I will get them.You want one of them cuffed to each of you?” the sheriff asked. He was feeling letdown that his infamous prisoners were leaving so soon after their trial even though joining the joyous crowd for drinks was some consolation.

“No, sir. We have four horses. We’ll secure them to their saddle and lead their horses,” Heyes told him confidently.

“We’ve transported prisoners before,” Curry added.

ASJ*****ASJ

The saloon was still joyously celebrating with the free drinks Heyes had provided, obvious to the four men who rode out of town in the tree line behind the buildings. Lom had two drinks, figuring that gave his friends time to do what they were going to do when he saw the sheriff enter. Wheat had saved his life once when he rode with the Devil’s Hole Gang. Looking the other way was his way of paying him back.

At his hotel, the desk clerk got his attention.

“Sheriff Trevors, I have an envelope for you,” she said.

“Thank you. May I ask who dropped it off for me?”

The desk clerk got a dreamy smile on her face. “A well-dressed blond man with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Lom nodded. Kid Curry has that effect on women of all ages. Waiting until he was in his room before opening the letter, he poured its contents on his bed. He picked up the two US Marshal badges. “What have you done this time?” he said to no one. “Impersonating a US Marshal is a serious crime.”

He looked closer at the badges. Each had the round dent from a bullet obscuring the rsh so the word Marshal was unreadable. Lom had no doubt the twin dents had come from Kid Curry’s colt

He picked up the letter.

Lom, thank you for all your help. Wheat and Kyle were innocent this time. You’ll find the two men that lost these badges in a farmhouse about five miles north of town.

HH and JC

PS - We never told the sheriff we were US Marshals.


note: When I was serving jury duty I heard the court clerk use retirement in this way.

Dr. Joshua Crandall stared out the window of the train at the passing scenery with unseeing eyes, lost in his own gloomy thoughts. Forced into retirement due to his health, the former Kansan was on his way to a sanatorium in Denver, that city's mild weather and dry mountain air being reputedly beneficial for consumptives like himself.

He was under no illusion that a mere change of climate could actually effect a cure for his malady, however. So, he had no doubt that at some time in the not too distant future he would end his days at that establishment, alone and unmourned, since he no longer had any family having lost his wife and young son during an epidemic many years ago. That he might have had another family of sorts, if only he hadn't allowed his head to overrule his heart, was yet another bitter pill for him to swallow at this time and made just one more regret for him to brood about now.

It took the train suddenly grinding to a screeching halt to break through his somber ruminations and recall him to the present. There was only one reason  he could think of for them to have made such an unscheduled stop and he frowned in irritation. It seemed rather ungenerous of fate to have placed him on a train that was about to be held up considering everything else he currently had to deal with. But as soon as the word started going around that the outlaws who had stopped them were none other than the infamous Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, Crandall's frown turned into a wry smile. A natural enough reaction, given that he'd previously crossed paths with the infamous duo, though they'd hardly been infamous back then.

After all, it had been fifteen years since those two had first fetched up on his doorstep back in Kansas, on a rainy September evening, the boy Hannibal looking so scared and worried because his younger cousin Jedediah was ailing. And for much of that time Crandall had felt responsible for having sent them down the path they had chosen to follow in life. So, he was finding it supremely ironic that he had now fallen victim to the very forces that he himself had helped set in motion.

Not that he hadn't tried to do right by them at the time, because he had. Being a dedicated healer as well as a compassionate man, he'd naturally taken the pair in and nursed the young blond boy through a dangerous bout the grippe. An endeavor in which he'd been willing assisted by the older lad who had shown his devotion to his young relative by refusing to leave his bedside, even to eat, until the crisis had passed.

And even after Jedediah was well again he'd still allowed them to stay with him. Ostensibly because of the plea Hannibal had made that they be allowed to work off they debt they owed him for Jed's care, but in reality it had been because they had made his empty house a home again, which had helped ease the pain of Mary's and Thad's passing.

That being the case, it wasn't long before he'd begun to think about making the arrangement permanent by adopting them. There'd only been one thing standing in his way. The war hadn't been long over then and, as a result, times were hard and money scarce. So, taking on the legal responsibility of providing for one child would have been daunting enough, while taking on two had seemed nigh on impossible.

He hadn't been willing to give up on the idea however, and while it had taken a good deal of persuading on his part, he'd finally managed to convince an older, childless couple of his acquaintance, to take one the boys into their own home. Which, at the time, had seemed to him like an ideal solution. After all, they would still get to see each other every day, so it wouldn't be all that different from the way their lives had been when their respective parents had been alive.

However, as soon as he'd broached the proposal to them he could tell by their expressions that he'd miscalculated. After everything they'd been through together they weren't about to accept even a minimal degree of separation and, in a way, Crandall couldn't say that he'd blame them. So, he'd sighed and told them not to worry, that he'd find a way to work things out and that they would talk more about it in the morning. But when morning came they'd been nowhere to be found. Having learned the hard way that adults were not always to be trusted, they hadn't risked waiting around to hear what he might have come up, and instead had decided to ensure that they stayed together by taking off in the night.

Crandall, of course, had gone looking for them but it had been to no avail. None of the townspeople had seen them nor were they particularly interested in what might have happened to the two young runaways since they were more concerned with figuring out just who had picked the lock on the door to the mercantile and relieved it's cash box of the prior day's receipts. Which was one question that Crandall was pretty sure he had the answer to, when he returned home and discovered that two finely bladed scalpels were missing from his surgical kit. Feeling that he was more to blame for that act of larceny than they were, he'd kept that information to himself.

After their names began to be bandied about in the press, Crandall had made a point of following their careers now that they were full fledged outlaws. And he'd taken some consolation from the fact that, unlike so many others in their chosen profession, they weren't violent men and that they had never harmed anyone during the commission of their crimes. He had, of course, never expected to see them again though. So, he was now rather glad than otherwise that things had worked out the way they had, since  it would hopefully give him the opportunity to judge for himself whether or not they'd gone hopelessly to the bad or if it were still possible to see anything of the boys he'd once known in the men they had since become.

And apparently that opportunity was now at hand, because two members of their gang had just boarded the train in order to escort the passengers off. As he filed out with the others Crandall took care to stay on the outskirts of the group, so that he could have an unobstructed view of what was going on. It didn't take him long to spot them either. Hannibal's dimpled grin and Jedediah's blond curls and baby face were a dead give away. And his first superficial impression was that they'd certainly grown into a pair of fine looking young men, who stood out from the other motley members of their gang like day from night.

As for who they actually were on a deeper level, as he stood there watching them laughing and joking with the railroad men (who, by the way, were acting as though it was an honor to be robbed by the famous pair) Crandall, who'd always been a good judge of character sensed that, in spite of what they did for a living, they really hadn't changed all that much.

He felt sure that they were still basically good at heart. It was simply that, having been forced to steal to survive as youngsters, they'd discovered they had a talent for it and so had gone right on doing it. Almost as if it were some sort of game to them. But no matter how good they were  at that game,  Crandall knew they would eventually lose at some at some point. And with that realization a flood of guilt washed over him, as well as sadness for all of their sake.

If only he hadn't tried to split them up. He'd known from the start that the bond between them was unbreakable. If he'd only said, to start out with, that he'd adopt them both then he'd have two fine, young sons to be a comfort to him now and to mourn his passing when his time came. And as for them, well they wouldn't be the two most wanted men in the country now, with every sheriff and two-bit bounty hunter west of the Mississippi looking to cash them in for the hefty prices on their heads.

If only. Two of the saddest words in the English language, Crandall thought bitterly.

It was too late now to rectify his past mistakes, however. Too late for him, at any rate. But they were young, maybe there was still time for them to turn their lives around. If only he could talk to them, maybe he could convince them to take a different path while there was still time.

If only. There were those two words again. Who am I kidding?, he chastised himself. There's no time for that now and they'd never listen to anything I had to say anyway, and why should they?

He doubted if they'd even remember him after all that time. So even if he could get close enough to speak to them, why would they put any stock in what a stranger had to say about the way they'd chosen to live their lives?

They were still at the top of their game, after all. The two most successful outlaws the west had ever seen. And, because of that fact, no doubt still cocky enough to think that it would always stay that way.  No, as far at the good doctor could see the only thing that would save those two now was an act of divine intervention. Which wasn't a very likely occurrence, Crandall acknowledged with derision.

As a man of science he'd never been overly religious, but he did believe in God, in his way. It was just that he'd seen too much suffering and death over the years, however, to allow him to believe that He really took much of an interest in the day to day lives of human beings.

Still, since there wasn't anything else he could do for them, he decided it didn't hurt to ask.  So, for the first time in years Crandall now found himself praying that somehow, someway the Almighty would see fit to intervene on their behalf, because there was still a lot of good in those two, he could feel it, and he knew they didn't deserve the dismal fate that he foresaw for them.

ooo000ooo

Standing by the engine, Kid Curry nudged his partner in the ribs, then nodded in the direction of the passengers. “Heyes, you got any idea why that old man is starin' at us like that?”

Heyes grinned. “ How should I know, Kid? Maybe he's a bounty hunter and he's tryin' to memorize what we look like.”

“An old geezer like that?” Curry countered. “That ain't too likely now, is it? At any rate I wish he'd quit doin'  it, 'cause he's givin' me the willies.”

Since the Kid didn't spook easily, Heyes took a closer look. “Well, maybe we've met him before somewhere. In fact, now that I think about it, he does look kinda familiar.” Since he prided himself on never forgetting a face, Heyes searched his memory. Nothing immediately coming to mind, he shrugged it off, telling himself that it would come to him eventually, if it really mattered. Then he got back to the business at hand. “Anyway, Kid, forget about him 'cause I wanna tell you about the next job I got lined up for us. You see, I found out that there's a fifty thousand dollar payroll comin' in on that Columbine run next week. And I figure we oughta make a try for it.”

The Kid was skeptical. “I don't know, Heyes. We made quite a haul tonight. Might be pressing our luck if we hit another train so soon.”

Which was a valid point, but one that Heyes chose to ignore given the fact that no matter how much money they stole they never seemed to have any, since it ran through their fingers like water. “It's not a matter of luck. It's a matter of skill.” he declared confidently. “So, trust me, Kid. I've allowed for every contingency and it'll be just like takin' candy from a baby, you'll see.”

However, when the time came it soon became clear that the Kid had been right to be concerned, because everything that could go wrong on that Columbine job had gone wrong. Which had left them running for their lives from a very determined posse. And the only good thing that had come out of the whole sorry mess was that it had induced them to rethink their position regarding an amnesty flier that an elderly female passenger had so fortuitously given them and, by doing so, they ventured down a new path in life. One that was still rocky, but infinitely more worthwhile than the one they had previously traveled.

Now, of course there's no way of knowing whether this turn of events is attributable to an actual act of divine intervention or simply the result of mere coincidence. But it doesn't really matter since, either way, Crandall's prayer was answered. Still, you have to admit, it sure does give a body something to think about, now doesn't it?

ooo000ooo

Heyes and the Kid were in Lom's office waiting for him to come into work. They'd arrived in Porterville late the previous night, dirty, broke and frustrated from shaking yet another tiresomely determined posse. Heyes had picked the lock on the door with ease and they had sacked out on the floor, falling asleep easily after the stress of the last days, knowing no one would look for them in a sheriff's office, and wanting somewhere to shelter from the storm they could smell in the air.

The Kid stirred with a small groan as the sun crept through the window and stretched cautiously, moaning at the slight crack of his muscles at the movement. He peered over at where his partner had lain down the night before, unsurprised to see the space empty, and as he cautiously looked around the dusty room, he saw his partner at Lom's desk, a lamp half lit by his side peering at a sheaf of papers. Feeling himself being watched, Heyes blew out the lamp, and looked over at him, a half smile on his lips. “You know Kid, I'm real sick of this life we're living. If we ain't having to be ordinary, we're running for our lives.”

The Kid sat up and nodded. “The boredom is almost worse than the fear isn't it?”

Heyes sighed in tired agreement, and nodded down at the papers he'd been looking at.. “This is a plan of the rebuilt bank, Kid. It's got a shiny new safe, a Pierce and Hamilton 1878.”

The Kid shook his head, that damn safe seemed to be haunting them lately. “Well they sure ain't spared no expense, Heyes.” It was then he noticed the expression on his partner's face. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he recognised it as the one he'd seen on his face the moment before they were about to ride out to rob a train, or break into a bank and he said warningly “We're retired remember, Heyes.”

Heyes blew out a heavy breath, the gleam fading from his eyes as his shoulder's slumped. “I know Kid, but sometimes...” Heyes stretched his fingers wide and then with his right, made the movement of opening a safe.

The Kid laughed. “Well ya know we'd have to blow it anyway, Heyes, and I ain't real sure I miss nitro too much.”

Heyes grinned at him. “No I guess ya don't, Kid, but you miss that buzz as much as I do.”

The Kid grinned, and his gun hand twitched,, as he easily remembered that thrum of excitement that taking part in a successful job had always brought, but then he pushed the memory away with some regret.  “Well, Lom will be here soon, I better go get hid. Don't figure on him being impressed with us breaking in here.”

Heyes sighed and nodded. “You're right, Kid.”

The Kid eased himself off the floor, and slipped into shadow, just as the door opened and Lom entered. His eyes fell on Heyes at the desk, and  he snapped. “Whatcha doing here? What if someone had seen you?”

Heyes grinned and said. “Aww, now Lom. You know we're better than that...we just wanted somewhere outta the rain.”

Lom's hand hovered towards his gun, but then quickly folded his arms at the click of a gun hammer and sighed heavily. “You can make yourself useful Kid, and save us from Heyes' coffee, while I go get breakfast, then you can tell me exactly whatcha doing here.”

The Kid looked hopeful at the thought of food and Lom sighed even louder. “Guess you want me to bring some for you two huh?”

“Well we're kinda broke, Lom, and the Kid sure gets grumpy when he misses breakfast, and that makes his gun hand twitchy, and he don't listen so good.” This from Heyes who gave a full dimpled grin at the resigned expression on the sheriff's face.

“I'll be back quick as I can, stay outta sight, and Heyes don't touch anything all right...especially not the coffee.”

Heyes humphed, and he said grumpily to the man's retreating form. “There ain't nothing wrong with my coffee!”

The Kid laughed. “So long as I don't gotta drink it, that's true.”



Lom returned quickly with breakfast and Heyes just shook his head when Lom tried to talk while they were eating and said quietly. “Wait till he's done, Lom, its like poking a bear otherwise.”

“I heard that, Heyes.” The Kid's voice though muffled as he spoke round a mouthful of food, held some irritation.

Heyes shrugged. “You telling me it ain't true?”

The Kid didn't reply, and Heyes grinned as he thought, point to Hannibal Heyes, but didn't voice it, returning his attention to the food, as hungry as his partner.

Finally they were done and Lom eyed them both over his coffee and asked severely. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company right here in Porterville?”

He put dark emphasis on the word pleasure, and Heyes snorted. “Aww, Lom, we just wanted to say hello...”

The Kid with an amused look at his friend added. “And we're figuring this is the only sheriff's office we're safer than Texas rangers in. Ain't that right Heyes?”

Heyes blew out a heavy breath. “You ever gonna let that go Kid?”

“Gimme a couple more months, and I'll think about it...”

Lom glanced between the two men, feeling invisible and cleared his throat loudly as he almost growled. “Get on with it Heyes. I got a job to do in case you've forgotten, so I ain't got all day.”

Heyes cleared his throat and his face turned serious, in a way Lom had seen rarely, even when they'd ridden together- it usually meant trouble for someone, and he felt a slight chill. “Well, me and Kid been talking, and we're kinda sick of being Smith and Jones, we weren't made to be ordinary, and if we aren't dodging bounty hunters, or just a concerned citizen wanting their share of twenty thousand dollars, that's what we are and its getting a mite annoying.”

“What you saying Heyes? You're gonna force me to arrest ya talking like that.”

The Kid snorted and said evenly. “Like to see ya try Lom....”

Heyes' expression drifted into smug, and Lom sighed, knowing he wasn't even close to having the upper hand here, and shrugged in resignation. “So go on, Heyes...what were you saying?”

Heyes glanced over at his partner, before his eyes drifted back to Lom, after a brief settle on the bank plans on the sheriff's desk, and realised suddenly just why he'd decided on Porterville. The Kid was watching him intently, and his expression went from startled to resolute and he nodded, as he said. “Go ahead, Heyes, I've got ya back.”

Heyes swallowed hard, a little surprised at how easy the words were coming, when the idea had really just leapt into his mind moments ago. “We're considering unretiring, but we wanted to give you a chance to change our minds.”

Lom had nothing from the Governor to help, and certainly didn't possess Heyes' silver tongue, but the words came quick and fierce. “Look boys, you been outta the business for a coupla years, and outlawing is even harder than it was when ya decided to quit.  We got posse trains now, and forms of communication are even better then they were just a year ago.”

Heyes shrugged and the Kid tutted, before Heyes said with little hint of conciliation to his tone. “We know all this, Lom, and it ain't exactly giving us quite enough reason to stay outta trouble, 'cos we were real good at what we did, and we're plenty experienced at adapting after these last years.”

The Kid added just as firmly. “And we're still wanted, so ain't like we're safe from being arrested, and I'm real sick of being pushed around.”

Lom sighed, seeing their point, and not exactly surprised at their attitude. “All right, so you wanna go back to outlawing.” He turned to the Kid. “You willing to kill while you're robbing this time round, in order to keep Heyes safe? Because that's likely what you're gonna have to do at least once.” He turned to Heyes and added. “You want to see the Kid have to live with that, then watch while he hangs? Because lets face it, even if you get a coupla more years out of outlawing, we all know that'll be where it ends.”

Heyes shifted uncomfortably and his eyes locked with the Kid who met his gaze almost unflinching, except for the smallest crease in his forehead, that Heyes was sure he was unaware of. Willing, if not comfortable with the need to make that choice if he had to. Heyes looked away first, knowing he wasn't prepared live with those consequences. So shaking his head, he stared over at Lom, his expression bleak, as he said wearily. “You know I don't want that....but we can't live like this for much longer. Seems we're just as likely to die by posse now, then to hang later, whatever choice we make.”

Lom glanced between them not unsympathetically as the reality of their life choices seemed to hit them squarely, for what he thought was quite possibly the first time.

The Kid spoke into the tense silence. “Maybe we oughta just turn ourselves in, and hope it ain't twenty years.”

Lom looked at them, and felt his stomach flip at the words, and to his surprise the thought of them going to prison suddenly seemed unbearable to him. They had honoured their side of the deal they'd made with the then Governor, so it was time he tried harder to keep to his own. “Look, boys. Don't do anything hasty, stay here a few days, rest up some, while I speak to the Governor again.”

They laughed harshly in unison and Heyes said bleakly. “C'mon Lom, we're well past believing that old chestnut is going to bring anything but another year boys.”

“Or maybe even just another little job, that comes to nothing...” The Kid's tone was just as dark.

Lom said firmly. “C'mon now, this ain't like you. Its election year, and it sure looks like the current governor ain't gonna hang onto his job when the new President takes office....so he'll be more likely to listen when his career isn't on the line...”

Heyes after another glance at his friend, who gave a slight shrug, obviously indicating his agreement to whatever Heyes wanted, gave a small smile, and nodded. “All right, Lom, we'll take one last roll of the dice...”