Retribution by Eleanor Ward

After a trivial argument, Heyes and Kid part company, and Heyes finds himself abducted by a Bounty Hunter, with shattering consequences, that plunge him into emotional crisis and drive him into a quest for revenge that has devastating repercussions.
Rating: FRM
Cetagory: ASJ General Fiction h/c, angst
Warnings: Character death(s)

Original: 1973/Updated: 2005

Index

Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Chapter 11
Chapter 12: Chapter 12
Chapter 13: Chapter 13
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

http://www.aliassmithandjonesfanfic.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=32&Itemid=91

Retribution
by Eleanor Ward

-1-

It was a hot, dusty, afternoon as two strangers rode into the small township of Harrison, just inside the Nebraska border. They had been travelling for the better part of three weeks, as they worked their way up from Colorado.

A few of the locals gave them a passing glance as they pulled their horses up outside the hotel. Had they known that the two strangers were the two most wanted outlaws in the West, they would likely have been rather more alarmed.

Kid Curry climbed wearily down from his horse, took off his hat and raked a hand through his wavy, fair, hair before replacing it on his head and then reaching in his pocket to see how much money he had, grimacing when he counted just under two dollars.

“How much you got?” He glanced across at his partner, Hannibal Heyes, who had dismounted and was removing his rifle from the saddle.

Heyes delved into his pocket and drew out his money, bending his head to count it.

“Two dollars …fifty …sixty …seventy five.” He glanced across at Curry, raising a dark eyebrow questioningly.

“One eighty five.” sighed Curry. “Just enough for a room and supper.” He gave his partner a rueful look. “Let’s hope your luck’s in tonight.”

Heyes sighed. “I wouldn’t bet on it, the way things have been going lately.” he said sourly. Turning, he headed into the hotel with Curry on his heels.

After a successful ‘career’ robbing banks and trains with Heyes’ gang, Heyes and Curry had decided – or, more accurately, Heyes had decided, and Curry had reluctantly followed – to go straight, before the increasingly efficient law caught up with them, and had sought the help of a former gang member named Lom Trevors. Trevors, who had gone straight several years earlier and won an amnesty from the Government, was now Sheriff of Porterville, a small township in Wyoming, and, working with the Government, he had helped several small time criminals get an amnesty for their crimes and become free citizens once more and Heyes and Curry had asked him if he could do the same for them. Because of their notoriety however, the Government were suspicious about their motives, and of their ability to stay on the right side of the law, and had imposed a waiting period on them, initially of one year, during which time, if they got into any trouble, the amnesty would be refused and they would be condemned to ride the outlaw trail to it’s predictable end. If, at the end of the trial period however, they had proved that they could live on the right side of the law, then an amnesty would be granted and they would be free citizens once more.

Lom was to be responsible for them during this time, and would report on their progress. He had given them new names to live under during this trial period, Joshua Smith for Heyes and Thaddeus Jones for Curry.

After the initial one year trial period however, the Governor had decided that politically, it wasn’t a good time to grant them an amnesty, and a further waiting period had been imposed, at a date to be advised, when the political climate improved. Heyes and Curry had almost quit at that point and gone back to their outlaw ways, but Lom had persuaded them to stick with it, and for the last few months they had been travelling around, keeping a low profile, doing odd jobs to earn money, avoiding confrontation, and hurriedly leaving town when, as frequently happened, someone recognised them. They had ended up in jail several times, for minor misdemeanours, but Lom had managed to rescue them on each occasion so far without having to report the incidents back to the Governor.

After their exciting, extravagant lifestyle as outlaws, Heyes and Curry had found staying on the straight and narrow hard going. They had spend a large part of these last few months broke and hungry, and at times, the temptation to go back to their old life was almost irresistible. But so far they’d stuck at it, knowing that this was their best chance of living to what could be called a ripe old age. If they continued in their ‘profession’, the longest they could realistically hope to survive was perhaps two more years as the telegraph network spread its tentacles across the country, enabling the law to get to the scene of a robbery almost as soon as it happened, reducing their chances of escape, and increasing their chances of getting killed.

They booked a room in the hotel and put their belongings in it before going across the street for a meal and then onto the saloon where Heyes got into a poker game, hoping to win them enough money to enable them to eat the next day.

Heyes was a gifted card player and won frequently, although his luck had often got them into trouble when his opponents accused him of cheating.

Curry propped himself against the bar with a drink while Heyes played. He studied the game for a while, trying to work out how it was going. He could gleen nothing from Heyes’ expression. His dark eyes gave away nothing - his normally mobile mouth set, his expression impassive.

Curry turned away, bored with watching, and began chatting to some people standing near to him.

Heyes returned some time later, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Well?” Curry enquired, his blue eyes looking perturbed.

“Don’t worry, Kid, you can have your breakfast tomorrow.” Heyes told him.

The Kid grinned.

After a couple more drinks, they went back to the hotel where they fell asleep, on the luxury of real mattresses, almost as soon as their heads touched the pillows.

The next morning, they paid for a bath and a long overdue haircut, and had their clothes laundered. Later, after a leisurely brunch, they adjourned once more to the saloon.

“Well.” said the Kid, after they had downed their first drink and poured a second. “I feel almost human again now.” He sighed, his expression becoming solemn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to wonder if this amnesty lark is worth it. I’m sick to death of always being broke, and hungry, and always having to slink away when we’re recognised.”

Heyes sighed, irritated by this latest bout of whingeing that the Kid had kept up more or less constantly since the day they’d approached Lom for help in going straight.

“We’ve been through this.” he said impatiently. “What would you rather have? A couple of years hardship now, and then a decent, hopefully long life to look forward to, perhaps a family, kids? Or, twelve months of the high life now, followed by 20 years in jail, or the hangman’s noose? If we live that long that is.”

The Kid shook his head contemptuously. “Do you know” he downed his drink and picked up the bottle to pour another “at the moment, I think I’d settle for the high life. My backside’s killing me from all this travelling, and sleeping rough aint doing my back any good either.”

Heyes tutted. “The trouble with you is, you’ve got no stamina.” he said scathingly, picking up the drink the Kid had just poured him.

The Kid’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s rich, coming from you.” he retorted. “As I recall, you’re pretty quick to complain yourself if you have to do a full day’s work, especially if it involves getting your hands dirty.” he snapped angrily. Heyes loathed physical labour, preferring to use his active, intelligent mind for planning and organising, and made no secret of his penchant for the finer things in life, although, to his credit, since agreeing to try for the amnesty, he had complained very little at having to bow and scrape to people he would just as soon punch in the face, and take on dull jobs that paid little in the way of wages by normal standards, let alone the money they’d been used to getting from their robberies. They had argued several times about the merits, or not, of going straight and trying to get an amnesty, and the Kid’s remark, which sounded to Heyes as though he was inferring that he was somehow not pulling his weight in their endeavour, rubbed him up the wrong way.

“At least when I make my mind up to do something, I stick with it.” he retorted. “I don’t quit just because my butt’s sore.” he added waspishly, turning away and picking up his glass.

The Kid glared at him, anger flaring in his eyes as he picked up the tone of sarcasm in Heyes’ voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“You know perfectly well.” replied Heyes, his tone condescending. “All you’ve done this last three weeks, in fact this last three months, is bitch and complain, and I’m sick to the back teeth of hearing it. You knew this wasn’t going to be easy. If you can’t handle it, why did you agree to do it?”

“I didn’t have a lot of choice.” snapped the Kid. “You railroaded me into it.”

“I what?” Heyes’ eyebrows shot up indignantly.

“Oh, sure, we ‘discussed’ it” the Kid continued “but as always you decided, and, as always, you decided to do what you wanted.” he said, with sarcasm.

Anger glittered in Heyes’ dark eyes. “You agreed it was the best thing to do.” he growled. “You didn’t have to do it. You’re quite capable of making your own decisions. You don’t have to do everything I say. I’m not your Mother for God’s sake.”

The Kid recoiled from Heyes’ remark like a physical blow. After their parents had been murdered by bushwhackers while they were still small children, he and Heyes had had no-one to provide for them, or care for them, and had had to rely on each other for their survival. They had been each other’s Father, Mother and Brother, and the tone of disdain in Heyes’ remark seemed, to the Kid, to make all those years count for nothing.

“I…” Heyes began, seeing the Kid’s expression and realising how his remark had sounded, but the Kid raised his hand to cut him off and spoke over him.

“No.” he agreed “My Mother always did what was best for me, not for her.” He glared at Heyes, his eyes dark with anger.

A tinge of colour touched Heyes’ cheekbones at the implications of the Kid’s remark.

“You know, I might just do better on my own.” the Kid continued before Heyes had a chance to protest to his earlier comment.

Heyes grunted cynically, hurt by the Kid’s remarks, but too proud to admit it.

“Feel free.” he snapped, waving a hand theatrically towards the door. “Don’t let me hold you back.” he added sarcastically. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of preventing you from bettering yourself.”

The Kid picked up his hat, his face white with temper.

“I don’t know why I’ve stuck with you for so long.” he hissed furiously at Heyes. “You’re a…self opinionated …arrogant …overbearing son-of-a-bitch.” He thrust his hat on his head and, turning on his heel, headed towards the door.

“I love you too!” Heyes tossed at his receding figure. “Oh, and don’t forget to give Lom your forwarding address, because I won’t be around to bail you out when you end up in jail.”

The Kid turned to glare furiously at him.

Heyes gave him a deliberately dazzling smile, which just served to infuriate him further. He clenched his fists in anger before turning and thumping out through the saloon door.

Heyes turned back to the bar and poured another drink, downing it in one gulp and banging the glass down angrily on the counter.

Self opinionated was he? Overbearing? Arrogant? Heyes took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger bubbling inside him. The Kid had a pretty big ego himself, Heyes noted, especially when he had a gun in his hand. He had an extraordinary talent with a gun, the best Heyes had ever seen. The Kid knew it, and delighted in amazing others with his speed and accuracy. Fortunately, he wasn’t of the sour disposition that seemed to dog a lot of sharpshooters, and he had never killed anyone. Neither had Heyes, although rumours had it that between them they’d slaughtered dozens of people.

Left to his own devices however, Heyes thought that the Kid could be provoked into it. His quick Irish temper all too easily got the better of him, like just now.

Heyes sighed. He just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid while he was in a rage. But why was he worrying? he chastised himself. The Kid had made it plain he didn’t want any help from him.

With a sigh, Heyes poured himself another drink. If the Kid thought he could do better on his own then let him try. He smiled, smugly. He gave him two days at the most, before he came skulking back. Like Heyes, the Kid wasn’t, by nature, a loner. He would be out of his mind with boredom after one day on his own.

Picking up his drink he headed to the poker table, where he won a reasonable amount of cash.

After several hands, he quit, while his luck held, and returned to the bar.

It wasn’t long before he was approached by one of the saloon girls, a pretty girl, with long blonde hair, peachy skin and big blue eyes, a complete contrast to his own dark colouring and swarthy complexion.

She introduced herself as Josie. Heyes introduced himself as Joshua Smith and poured her a drink. They stood chatting at the bar, Heyes amusing her with his sharp wit, she tantalising him with her firm young body, pressing herself to him as she giggled at his jokes. They adjourned to one of the tables, Heyes surprised to find, as they talked, that, for a saloon girl, she had a very intelligent mind, and he was drawn to her as much for that as for her body.

When Josie told him it was the end of her shift at the saloon and suggested that they go back to her place Heyes didn’t object. It had been quite a while since he’d been with a woman, and even longer since he’d been with one as lovely as Josie, and it would do the Kid good to stew a while, to wonder, if he went back to their hotel later, where he’d got to and if he were coming back or not.

Heyes finished his drink and stood up, dropping his arm around Josie’s shoulder as they walked towards the door. Josie slipped her arm around his waist and tilted her face up to kiss him tantalisingly on the lips. Heyes sighed with anticipation. Falling out with the Kid did have its compensations, he thought with a smile.


Unnoticed by Heyes, two men got up from an adjacent table and followed them.

As Heyes and Josie stepped out of the saloon and onto the boardwalk, the barrel of a gun was suddenly pressed against Heyes’ temple by one of the two men who had followed them out.

“That’ll be far enough… Mr. Heyes.” said a voice off to his left.

Heyes stopped dead in his tracks, shifting his gaze to look at the man who now stepped out of the shadows to stand in front of him, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants. He was an evil looking man, thin faced, with cold dark eyes and dark auburn hair that was greased down.

“Who are you? What do you want?” asked Heyes.

“Who I am isn’t important.” the stranger sneered. “It’s who you are that counts.”

“My name is Joshua Smith.” Heyes told him.

The main raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He shook his head. “You’re Hannibal Heyes.”

Josie, who had stood watching the proceedings nervously, drew in a shocked gasp. She had heard the stories about Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry over the years. Could this handsome, witty, happy-go-lucky man really be the ruthless outlaw she’d heard all those terrible stories about?

“Who says?” asked Heyes.

“I say.” replied the stranger.

Heyes shook his head. “Well I’m afraid you’re mistaken, friend.”

“We’ll see who’s mistaken when we get to Cheyenne.” The man glanced around him. “Is that your horse?” He nodded to Heyes’ horse tethered nearby.

“Yes.”

“Get on it.”

Heyes stared at him momentarily, while he tried to think of a way out of the situation, before deciding there wasn’t an immediate one.

“You heard.” the man holding the gun on him hissed in Heyes’ ear. “Move it.”

“McKenzie, take his gun.” The stranger ordered.

McKenzie reached down and removed Heyes’ gun from his holster before giving him a hefty shove in the direction of his horse that all but sent him sprawling.

Heyes glared angrily at him, but before he could speak McKenzie turned to the stranger and said. “What about the woman, Red?”

“Bring her too. We don’t want her gossiping to all and sundry.”

Josie looked terrified. “No, please …let me go. I won’t say anything. I only met him today …I don’t know anything….”

“Yes, let her go.” echoed Heyes. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Shut up.” snapped Red. “She comes with us.” He grabbed Josie’s arm and pulled her towards him, pulling his own gun and holding it on her. “She could be useful ….in more ways than one.” he added, leering at her voluptuous figure.

“But…” Heyes began.

“I said, shut your mouth, and keep it shut, unless you want her death on your conscience.” he told Heyes, nodding towards Josie.

Heyes shut up and got on his horse. Red and McKenzie did the same, Red hauling Josie up into the saddle in front of him.

They turned their horses and began to walk them towards the edge of town, McKenzie leading Heyes’ horse, with Red following behind.

“Where’s your partner, Kid Curry?” Red asked presently.

“My partner’s name is Thaddeus Jones, and he left town.” Heyes replied. He didn’t want them going after the Kid too.

“Don’t give me that.” snapped Red. “He was with you last night.”

Heyes raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t suspected they were being followed by anyone.

“Yes, he was.” he agreed truthfully. “We had a …disagreement, earlier today, and he left. That’s why I was with this young lady. I don’t know where he is.”

Red contemplated what Heyes had said. He had been hoping to be able to capture both of them but it was possibly a good thing that Curry hadn’t been around. He was too good with a gun, and it would have made it harder to capture them.

“No matter.” he said finally. “He’ll keep.”

They rode along in silence. Heyes wondered if there was any chance of him making a break for it. He decided there wasn’t. Even if he could break away, they could shoot him before he got twenty yards, or run him down, or hurt Josie. He wondered about the Kid. He’d certainly got his wish to make him stew, he thought with a grimace of irony. It would be a while before he realised something was wrong, if at all, and even if he did, there was no way of him finding them. No-one had seen their abduction from outside the saloon. He sighed. What a mess.

Some way out of town, they met up with another four members of Red’s party, camped with a covered wagon containing their supplies. They talked amongst themselves for a few minute before setting off again.

They’d been riding for a couple of hours when Heyes became aware of the men sniggering. He turned his head to see what was going on. Red was kissing and fondling Josie as they rode along, viciously biting her neck, ears and breasts, the men sniggering as Josie squirmed with pain. Her eyes caught Heyes’, pleading with him to help her.

Heyes clenched his fists. “Leave her alone.” he told Red.

Red looked up from biting Josie’s neck, while his hands squeezed her nipples, so hard she moaned with pain, her hands pulling uselessly at his as she tried to remove them.

“I told you to shut up.” he growled at Heyes, his eyes like steel. He gave an evil smile. “Perhaps you’d like to watch while I have her?” He removed one hand from her breast to grab her long blonde hair and yanked her head backwards, bending to kiss her, forcing his tongue into her mouth while his other hand pulled and twisted each nipple in turn, so viciously it was like someone clamping her in a vice and crushing her. She thought she would choke as his tongue probed almost down her throat, the smell of sweat and hair oil turning her stomach. She tried to scream, but only an agonised gurgle emerged as she beat her hands about his shoulders, her body writhing as she frantically tried to free herself from his grip.

Heyes turned his horse alongside Red’s, leaning across and lashing out at him, trying to pull him off her.

“Leave her alone.” he yelled.

There was a sudden explosion in his head as McKenzie clubbed him with the butt of his gun. He slumped over the horse’s neck as stars floated before his eyes. His horse, unhappy at being crowded by the other horses, reared up, throwing the semi-conscious Heyes backwards out of the saddle. For an instant the world spun about him before he landed with a jarring thud in a heap on the ground, gashing his forehead on a rock.

He lay there, dazed, until McKenzie crouched down by him, putting an arm around his throat and hauling his head up to look at Red, who had now dismounted and was holding onto Josie who was struggling frantically.

“Watch, and take heed.” Red hissed at Heyes, his eyes blazing with fury. He turned and hurled Josie to the ground, throwing himself on top of her, while Josie screamed and struggled. Red slapped her face and then stuffed a large handkerchief in her mouth to quieten her screams before ripping open her clothes and brutally raping her.

Heyes, still groggy from the blow to his head, couldn’t take in what was happening at first. He felt like he was in the middle of some awful dream. But, as his senses began to clear, and he realised what was happening, he tried to struggle free of McKenzie’s grasp, to help her.

“No.” he cried, but his cry was cut short as McKenzie tightened his grip on his throat, pulling out his gun and pressing it to Heyes’ temple. “Shut up.” he hissed in his ear.

Heyes had no choice but to lie there and watch while, first Red, and then three of the other men, raped her.

As the last man stood up from her half naked, bruised and bleeding body, Red glanced around the group.

“Anyone else want a go?” he enquired. When no-one else took up the offer, he turned to Heyes.

“How about you?” he sneered. “After all, that was your intention, wasn’t it?”

Heyes closed his eyes, feeling sick. When he opened them again, Red was crouching over Josie’s crumpled form, gun in hand.

“Well?” he smiled evilly. “We’ve no further use for her, so unless you want her ….” He trailed off, lifting Josie up by one arm and pressing the gun to her temple. He turned to look at Heyes once more, lifting one eyebrow questioningly. “What’s it to be?” he asked, his dark eyes boring into Heyes’.

Heyes couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Rape her to save her life? It was an impossible choice, and Red knew it. Even if Heyes had been physically able to do it, which, at this moment, he wasn’t, morally, he couldn’t.

He looked into Josie’s pleading gaze, his eyes silently begging her forgiveness for being unable to help her.

“I…. can’t …” he choked.

Red gave a nonchalant shrug, and, without further hesitation, pulled the trigger, an evil smile on his face as he watched Heyes’ reaction.

Heyes stared in horror at her blood spattered body, unable to believe that Red had actually done it.

“No…” he gasped, shaking his head in shocked disbelief. “No.” She'd had nothing to do with this. She’s just been an innocent bystander. She’d died just because she happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person. Him. Nausea welled up in him and he retched as the realisation hit him.

“You ….bastard…” he choked.

“Shut up.” Red snapped breathlessly at him. “Let that be a lesson as to the sort of thing that could happen to you if you try to pull anything. Some of these guys don’t only fancy women either.” he added menacingly.

Heyes stared at him momentarily, while he took in the implications of what Red had said, before returning his tortured gaze to Josie’s blood spattered remains.

“What about her ….you can’t just ….leave her there…”

“I can do what the hell I like.” Red snapped, levelling his gun at Heyes. “Now, stop your whining and get on your horse.”

Heyes stared at him for a moment, deciding he had no option but to comply. Not with a gun at his head anyway.

He tried to get up but yelped at a sudden pain in his right leg. He had fallen badly and landed with his leg bent up under him. He’d been too dazed, and shocked, at what was happening, to register it before, but now, even trying to straighten it was agony. He bit his lip, sinking back down onto one elbow.

“My leg …I think it’s broken.” he said, through clenched teeth.

Red raised his eyes to the sky, obviously irritated by this unexpected inconvenience.

“McKenzie …have a look at it.” he instructed.

McKenzie crouched down by Heyes and examined the leg. Heyes grunted with pain as he straightened it and prodded around.

“It’s broke alright.” he announced presently. “Just about here.” He pressed on the spot, about five inches above Heyes’ ankle, causing him to yelp with pain.

“I’ll see if I can make a splint.” McKenzie got up and disappeared into their wagon, returning, a few moments later, with some rope and some stout branches, that they were keeping for their camp fire, which he cut with a knife to make a makeshift splint from Heyes’ knee to his ankle.

“Right.” said Red, when McKenzie had finished. “Now, get up and get on your horse.”

Heyes shot him a startled glance. A bruise was already starting to show on his temple where McKenzie had clubbed him, and a trickle of blood ran down the other side of his forehead from where he’d struck his head as he’d fallen.,

“But …I can’t walk.” he said, his tone incredulous.

Red levelled his gun at him. “It don’t make no difference to me if I deliver you alive, or dead.” he told him. “If you want it to be alive, you’d better get up and on your horse …now. And if I suspect you of trying to slow us down in any way at all, I’ll put a bullet in your head. Get it?”

Heyes stared at him in disbelief. Surely he didn’t expect him to walk with a broken leg? And if he didn’t give a damn about taking him in alive, why hadn’t he just killed him instead of taking him prisoner? It was easier to take in a corpse than a prisoner. That probably meant he was bluffing, to keep him in line. Well, Heyes bristled, he wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“I can’t walk.” he said flatly, his eyes challenging Red’s.

Without any hesitation, Red aimed his gun at Heyes and fired, the bullet hitting him in the left shoulder. Heyes slumped to the ground with a grunt, as much of surprise, as pain.

“You’ll walk …or else.” growled Red.

Heyes struggled to get back up onto one elbow, turning his gaze to Red’s as he clutched his injured shoulder and tried not to show how much it hurt.

“Get on your horse.” Red ordered, his eyes cold, totally unmoved by what he had done, to Heyes or to Josie.

Heyes stared at him, humiliated at calling Red’s bluff and losing. He hadn’t believed he would follow through with his threat, but it was obvious to him now that Red would indeed kill him if he gave him the slightest reason. If he wanted to arrive in Cheyenne alive, he would have to do exactly what Red told him.

What Heyes didn’t know was that Red enjoyed torturing his prisoners, physically and psychologically, and would do so at the slightest opportunity. If they died before he delivered them, that was just too bad. Either way, he still earned the Bounty.

Heyes struggled to his feet, pain flowing through him. Stars floated before his eyes and he felt dizzy, but he fought to stay conscious, limping and hopping over to his horse.

To get on the animal, he had to take all his weight on his injured leg. As he tried to, pain washed over him and he thought he would pass out. He hung onto the saddle, leaning his head on his arm, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths as he tried to fight off the red mist that threatened to engulf him, his face beaded in perspiration.

“Move it.” Red growled behind him.

Heyes took a deep breath, and, grasping the saddle, held his weight while he got his good leg in the stirrup. He swung up, groaning as he swung his injured leg over the horse’s back.

“Tie him on.” Red told McKenzie.

Heyes glared at him. “There’s no need for that. I’m hardly going to be running away am I?”

“Just making sure.” sneered Red. “You’re a valuable cargo. Can’t afford to take any chances.”

“I’ve told you, you’ve got the wrong man.” Heyes said quietly.

“Yeah, yeah.” scoffed Red. “And I’m Abraham Lincoln.”

McKenzie approached with a length of rope which had a loop in one end. He placed the looped end around Heyes’ injured ankle and pulled it tight, causing Heyes to grunt with pain. He then took the rope under the horse’s belly before tying it to his other ankle. Then he grabbed Heyes’ wrists and bound them securely around the pommel of the saddle. His left hand was streaked with blood which had soaked his shirt and run down his arm from the wound in his shoulder.

McKenzie took out a large handkerchief and stuffed it inside his shirt to stem the bleeding.

“I think we ought to bury the girl Mr. Felton.” One of the men said now. “Just in case anyone tries to track us.”

Red contemplated for a moment before nodding. “Alright, but be quick. Put her over there in amongst those rocks.” He pointed to some boulders about thirty yards away.

Heyes watched with tortured eyes as a shallow grave was dug, and Josie’s remains hurriedly buried, before everyone mounted their horses and moved off, Felton towing Heyes’ horse behind his own.

The gang chatted amongst themselves as they rode, totally ignoring Heyes.

Heyes pondered on who these men were, and what his chances were of getting away from them. He shook his head. Who was he trying to kid? He wasn’t going anywhere, except maybe to an early grave. He shuddered at the thought of what lay in store for him. Their amnesty was unofficial. Until it was, they were still wanted criminals with a $10,000 price on each of their heads and 20 years in jail to look forward to. The only person who might be able to save him was Lom, and there was no way for him to know where he was, nor for the Kid to pass on a message to tell him. He sighed. It looked pretty bleak.

He tried to flex his aching back and shoulders. The fall had shaken him up, and being tied to this horse wasn’t helping matters. He didn’t know which part of him hurt the most.

His thoughts returned to the Kid. What would he do when Heyes failed to contact him?  Probably nothing at first. After their argument, he would think Heyes was sulking. That was assuming, of course, that he hadn’t left town altogether and came back to the hotel to look for him, which was by no means certain. Later, he might go to the saloon to look for him. But, even if they even remembered him being there, they would only be able to tell him that he had left, and there the trail would end. There were no clues, no witnesses, nothing.

“Lord, what a mess.” he muttered to himself.

His thoughts returned time and time again to Josie. They’d had no right to do what they’d done to her. She’d done nothing wrong, except get involved with him.  He was consumed with guilt that she had died because of him, and so brutally.

His stomach turned over as his mind replayed it to him once more. He would never forget the look in her eyes as she’d silently pleaded for salvation. This guy Felton had to be crazy, he decided. He would have to be very careful if he wanted to live long enough to even get to trial.

Eventually, Red stopped the gang, to make camp for the night. One of the men untied Heyes and told him to get down off his horse.

Heyes did as he was told. He limped, with difficulty, over to their wagon, where he was pushed down onto the ground. His leg and shoulder hurt like hell, and he felt sick and faint.

Someone handed him a small plate of food and mug of coffee. The rest of the men sat in a circle some distance away, eating and passing around a flask of whisky. Heyes licked his lips as he watched them drinking. He could really do with a swig of that himself right now.

When McKenzie came to take the plate and mug from him, Heyes caught his sleeve.

“Wait.”

McKenzie looked disdainfully down at him. “What?”

“This bullet ….will you get it out?”

McKenzie looked doubtful, glancing across to where Felton was sitting with the men. He knew if he did anything like that without his permission he would be in big trouble. On the other hand, he didn’t much like the way Felton treated his prisoners and couldn’t see what harm it could do to help the guy. The trip to Cheyenne would be rough enough on him without having a bullet in him.

“Please.” Heyes’ eyes pleaded with McKenzie’s.

McKenzie sighed, drawing out a knife. “Alright, but keep it quiet, or we’ll both be for it.”

Heyes nodded, unfastening his jacket and shirt. McKenzie knelt by him and began to probe around inside the wound while Heyes leaned back against the wheel of the wagon, his eyes tightly closed and his teeth clenched as he tried to stifle a groan of pain.

After a few moments McKenzie announced “Got it.” and held up the bullet for Heyes to see.

“Thanks.” Heyes whispered weakly, tilting his head back and letting out a deep sigh, his face beaded with perspiration. McKenzie tossed the bullet away before stuffing another handkerchief inside Heyes’ shirt to help stem the bleeding. “It didn’t hit anything major. It’s just a flesh wound.” he told him, before returning to the other men, who had started a game of cards.

Heyes watched them, through half closed eyes, trying to block his mind to the pain wracking his body,

When it was time to turn in, McKenzie came over to Heyes with a length of chain in his hand. As Heyes looked questioningly at him, McKenzie gave a sheepish shrug.

“Lie down.” He told him. Heyes did so.

McKenzie secured the chain about his neck and then fastened it to the spokes of the wagon wheel, leaving him just enough room to turn over. He gave it a tug, to test it was secure, almost choking Heyes. He felt humiliated to be chained up like an animal, but, when he looked into McKenzie’s face, his dark eyes were defiant.

McKenzie left without further conversation, and Heyes tried to get into a moderately comfortable position. He couldn’t lie on his injured shoulder, and lying on his other side hurt his leg, but he had no other option, the chain around his neck preventing further movement.

The ground was hard and stones dug into him no matter how hard he tried to push them from underneath him, and, as a stiff night breeze blew up, the dusty earth got up his nose and down his throat. The other men had blankets to keep them warm, but they hadn’t deigned to give him one, and, in the light clothes he wore, he was soon shivering with cold. But eventually he fell asleep, to be rudely awoken the next morning by a boot in his ribs.

One of the men unfastened the chain and Heyes struggled into a sitting position, every bone and muscle stiff and store.

McKenzie handed him a mug of coffee. Heyes took it, wondering, once more, how the hell he was going to get out of this mess. In the unlikely event that he could get away from them, he couldn’t travel far with his injured leg. 

What was the Kid doing, he wondered. He regretted their argument the previous day. If they hadn’t gone their separate ways in a huff, he might not be in this mess now.

continues

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Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Despite still being furious with Heyes, the Kid had, nevertheless, returned to their hotel late that night.  When he found their room empty, he assumed that Heyes had stayed in the saloon and got involved in some late night card game.

When he woke the next morning to find Heyes still hadn’t returned, he was, at first, irritated by his childish behaviour, believing that he had stayed out deliberately, just to make a point, but, when he’d had breakfast and there was still no sign of him, his irritation began to give way to concern.  It wasn’t like Heyes to go off and leave a situation unfinished.  If he planned to part company with the Kid and go it alone, he would have come back to the hotel to collect his things and told him so to his face, and, even though it was the Kid who had walked out, he knew Heyes better than to believe he would leave town without waiting to see if he came back and to find out what he intended to do. He hung on a while longer in case Heyes was deliberately trying to wind him up, but, after lunch, when there was still no sign of him, he was worried enough not to care about saving face, all sorts of reasons as to why he hadn’t come back whizzing round in his head. 

Perhaps he’d got into a fight, over a card game, and ended up in jail …or worse. The Kid shuddered. Or maybe he’d got drunk and got arrested for being drunk and disorderly. 

He went to the Sheriff’s office, to check, but no-one had been brought in the previous night so he went to the saloon, where, after asking around, he established that a man answering Heyes’ description had been in the saloon the previous afternoon, playing poker, and had left later with one of the girls. 

“She aint turned in for work today neither.” the bartender told him. 

The Kid frowned. “Do you know where she lives?” 

The bartender nodded. “She shares a room with one of the other girls, up the street, over the Telegraph Office.  Name’s Josie.” 

“Thanks.” The Kid turned to leave. 

“If you see her, tell her to get her ass in here, double quick, unless she wants to be out of a job.” 

“Will do.” The Kid left and headed up the street towards the Telegraph Office. The girl who answered his knock at the door informed him that she hadn’t seen Josie since the previous morning.  The Kid thanked her and left. 

Something wasn’t right, he thought, as he walked back towards the hotel.  It wasn’t certain that the man seen leaving the saloon with the girl was Heyes, but it was too much of a coincidence for him to dismiss.  He could understand him staying out all night with some girl, just to spite him, but to vanish completely, and the girl too…. He shook his head, a knot of apprehension beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.   

He decided to go back to the saloon to try the only other option left, to try and pick up the trail of Heyes’ horse. The animal was missing as well, and the Kid could only assume that wherever Heyes was, the horse would be too.  

The Kid went back to where their horses had been tethered the previous afternoon.  Heyes’ horse had a chip out of one hoof that made if relatively easy to track, and the Kid soon found its prints in the ground.  He was thankful it hadn’t rained overnight and washed them away. 

He searched around amongst all the other hoof prints that had come and gone since, and finally found tracks of Heyes’ horse going in the opposite direction to that which they had ridden into town from. 

He walked along a way, studying them.  There were tracks of at least two other horses going in the same direction.  He wondered at first if the other prints were just of other riders who had passed that way before or after, but none of the tracks overlapped, so that was unlikely. They were all evenly spaced, suggesting that Heyes had been travelling in the middle of a group of people. 

The Kid stood up with a sigh.  He had no option but to follow the tracks and see where they led.  If Heyes had decided to leave town without waiting to see if he came back, the Kid wanted to give him a piece of his mind for going off without any explanation or word of goodbye.  Heyes owed him that much at least, after all the years they’d been together. But, given that Heyes had left without taking any of his belongings, it looked increasingly to the Kid like he was in some kind of trouble, in which case he would try to help.  

He went back to the hotel, gathered their things together and checked out.  He secured his and Heyes’ belongings to his horse and, after pausing to pick up a few supplies, set off to follow the tracks. 

It wasn’t long before he found the tracks of several other horses, and a wagon. The tracks of Heyes’ horse were clear on the ground, but seemed surrounded on all sides by the others, suggesting that ,whoever they belonged to, Heyes wasn’t travelling with them of his own volition. It looked increasingly to the Kid as though Heyes had been abducted, maybe by some Bounty Hunter who had recognized him. 

Some time later he pulled up when he found what looked like signs of a scuffle. 

He dismounted and studied the ground carefully.   The tracks of Heyes’ horse were now all jumbled up with the others, and there were several sets of footprints and some strange indentations in the earth that the Kid couldn’t work out at all.  A few feet away he found the remains of some tree branches and a piece of rope, but he didn’t look far enough to find Josie’s body, buried behind the rocks a short distance away. The Kid couldn’t work out what had happened here, but at least he knew now that he was on the right trail.

He remounted his horse and moved on, wondering how far ahead of him they were, and if Heyes was alright.    

When the men had breakfasted, and were ready to leave, Heyes was told to get on his horse.   He struggled over to it, biting his lip to prevent himself from yelping with pain.  He wouldn’t give the bastards the satisfaction of letting them see how badly he was hurting. 

He reached the horse and hauled himself into the saddle.  Again they tied his feet under the horse’s belly, which caused him excruciating pain with every step the animal took. 

Today, they chose to tie his hands behind his back, rather than in front of him, which made him even more uncomfortable.  Apart from being stiff and sore from his fall the previous day, not being able to hold the saddle he had to use his knees to keep his balance, which hurt his leg even more. 

McKenzie yanked his arms behind his back to tie him, which re-opened the wound in his shoulder.  Heyes closed his eyes, his teeth clenched against this fresh wave of pain, but he remained silent. 

Again the men ignored him as they rode, merely turning round every once in a while to make sure he was still there – as though he had any chance of escaping, he thought bitterly – and to make a few snide remarks in his direction. 

They paused midway through the morning, dismounting to water their horses and drink from their canteens, leaving Heyes tied to his horse.  

McKenzie started to offer a canteen to Heyes, but Felton stopped him. 

“Water’s too precious to waste. He can wait.” he growled. 

McKenzie shrugged and replaced the cap on the canteen. 

“But, you…” Heyes began to protest, but was cut short as Felton slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. 

“Shut up.” he growled.  “One more word out of you and you’ll get nothing, except a bullet in the head.” He drew his gun and pressed it to Heyes’ temple, clicking the safety catch off.  “Got it?  Good.” he said, when Heyes didn’t answer.  He put the gun away and turned his horse away, shouting instructions to the men. 

Heyes sighed.  A man needed water in this heat.  He knew only too well the consequences of dehydration. He prayed he could last out until they chose to give him something.  Felton would probably expect him to plead with them to give him some before the day was out.  Heyes resolved not to.  He wouldn’t let them demoralize him.  Whatever they dished out, he would take, with dignity. 

Presently, they re-mounted and pressed on again.   Heyes felt terrible.  He was hot and thirsty, and desperately uncomfortable, and the pain from his injured leg and shoulder was driving him slowly mad.  Like a constant toothache, it gnawed away at his senses until it obliterated all other conscious thought.   He had no idea how long they’d been travelling. The hours blurred into one another.  The movement of the horse’s body pulled his injured leg and was so painful he wanted to cry.  He felt sick and dizzy, but he couldn’t risk passing out.  Felton hadn’t been joking when he’d said he would put a bullet through his head.  The reward money was the same if he delivered him dead or alive.  He would have to use every ounce of his willpower to keep alert.    

When they made camp for the night, Heyes was once again given a meagre plate of food and a mug of coffee. 

At turning in time, McKenzie once again fastened the chain about his neck and secured it to the spokes of the wagon wheel. 

One of the other men, a young lad of about seventeen, stood nearby, sniggering. 

“Well, just look at you.” he chided. “All trussed up, like a turkey.”  He began strutting around, flapping his arms and making a gobbling sound. 

As he strutted in front of him, Heyes, already irritable from the pain he was in, lost his temper, at the kid’s sarcastic remarks, and stuck out his foot, tripping him up. The lad fell right in front of Heyes, who grabbed him by the jacket collar and hauled him up face to face with him. 

“Just watch it, kiddo.” he hissed at him. “If I get….” The rest of his sentence was cut short as Felton suddenly appeared, yanked the lad aside and struck Heyes hard across the face with the back of his hand. 

Heyes glared angrily up at Felton, blood trickling from a split lip. 

“Joey, get to bed.” Felton snapped at the lad, without taking his eyes from Heyes’.  Heyes returned his gaze defiantly. 

Joey scrambled to his feet and scurried off, muttering to himself. 

“It’s easy to hit people who can’t hit back.” Heyes said flatly. 

Felton’s answer was to slap him again, the force of the blow knocking his head back against the wheel of the wagon.  It took all of Heyes’ willpower not to reach up to rub the spot, which stung painfully.  Instead, he stared at Felton, almost proudly. 

Felton took a length of rope ad, stepping over Heyes, bent and yanked his wrists behind him, tying them tightly together. 

“Maybe that’ll keep you out of mischief.” he hissed, before getting to his feet and stalking off. 

“You’d better watch it.” McKenzie sneered. “Joey is Red’s kid brother.  He don’t stand no messin’ where Joey’s concerned.” 

Heyes ignored McKenzie, trying to get into a position that didn’t hurt.  McKenzie had fastened the chain tight enough for it to be restricting to his breathing, and Felton had tied his wrists so tightly, the rope cut into the already raw flesh until they bled, but he was so exhausted he slept anyway, regardless of his pain and discomfort. 

Kid Curry caught up with the gang on the third afternoon. Up on a ridge where they couldn’t see him, he watched them carefully, trying to figure out what was happening, and what to do next. He counted seven men altogether, and they all looked useful. They had Heyes well tied up, and he appeared to be hurt. But at least he was still alive. The Kid had half expected to find a corpse.

He followed at a respectful distance until they made camp, then he crawled a little nearer to try and get a better look, wishing he had a rifle. They’d had to sell one of the two they possessed a few weeks back, to buy food, and rely on sharing one between them, which Heyes had had in his possession at the time of their argument.

McKenzie untied Heyes from his horse. "Get down." he told him. "Over there." He pointed to the wagon.

Heyes slid off the horse, hanging onto the saddle for a moment as he tried to summon up the strength to get over there. After another day in the hot sun with barely any food and no water, he had very little strength left, and he was so stiff, and in so much pain, he could hardly move.

"Move it." McKenzie thumped him between the shoulder blades with the butt of his rifle, knocking him to the floor.

Heyes slowly hauled himself up and managed to hobble over to the wagon. He moved like an automaton, too blinded by pain and fatigue to think straight. He sank to the ground by the wagon, gazing vacantly ahead.

He was handed a plate of food and a mug of coffee. He felt too sick to eat, but he forced himself to drink the coffee as it was the first drink he’d had since sunrise. But his throat was so dry and constricted, he could barely swallow it, and had only managed a few mouthfuls before McKenzie returned to take the cup and plate away from him. He then chained him to the wagon wheel, and tied his hands behind him again on Felton’s instructions.

Heyes gritted his teeth and tried to lie still. Every time he moved, the ropes cut into his already raw wrists, causing him even more pain.

Joey hung around making sarcastic remarks. At first, Heyes was too dazed to notice his presence but eventually, his calls of "Hey, turkey", and his strutting and clucking noises drew his attention.

"I told you to watch it." Heyes croaked at him.

Joey crouched down by him, sniggering. "Or what? What are you going to do to me?" he sneered.

"I’ve got friends." said Heyes. "One word from me, and you’d be finished."

"Oh, yeah?" snorted Joey. "And how are you going to get in touch with them, eh?"

"I don’t need to." said Heyes. "They’ll catch up with you, sooner or later. If I’m dead, they’ll get all of you. If I’m not, I’ll do it myself. Either way, you lose."

Felton, who had been listening to the conversation, now walked up to Heyes and delivered a hefty kick to his stomach, the force of it lifting him off the ground.

He would have doubled up, but the chain around his neck pulled him back sharply, almost choking him. As he lay gasping for air like a fish out of water, Felton crouched over him, grabbing his collar and hauling him up to face him, a knife blade glinting evilly in the firelight in his free hand. He pressed the point of the blade under Heyes’ chin.

"I’ll only tell you this once." he hissed menacingly. "Say just one more word to my brother …just one …you hear? …and it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever say …because I’ll personally cut out your tongue." He grabbed Heyes by the hair, forcing his head back. "Do you understand?" He spat the words, his face inches from Heyes’. "Do you?" he repeated, when Heyes didn’t answer.

Heyes had been determined not to be intimidated by them, but as his strength failed, so did his courage. Felton’s eyes told him that he would have great pleasure in carrying out the threat, and frankly he was scared, especially after seeing how brutally he had attacked and killed Josie, without a flicker of remorse, before turning on Heyes himself and shooting him.

Too winded to reply, Heyes nodded as best he could with Felton grasping his hair.

"Good." sneered Felton, reading the fear in his eyes. "And" he continued in a menacing whisper "be warned. If I have to do that, it’ll be just the start. By the time we get to Cheyenne, you’ll be minus a few fingers and toes as well as a tongue." He laughed evilly, stroking the flat of the knife blade across Heyes’ forehead and down over his cheek, while Heyes held his breath, praying he wouldn’t slash him.

Felton traced the line of Heyes’ jawbone to the centre of his chin and then turned the blade over and deliberately drew the point down from Heyes’ bottom lip to the edge of his chin before standing up and wiping off the smear of blood on the sleeve of his jacket. Then, with an evil smirk, he turned and strode away, pleased at Heyes’ reaction. They all cracked after a few days, however tough they thought they were.

Heyes closed his eyes and let out his breath in a shuddering sigh, trembling, partly from exhaustion and the effects of dehydration, but as much from fear, at the thought of what Felton had threatened to do to him, which was, in Heyes’ mind, a fate worse than death.

The Kid was too far away to hear what was being said, but it was obvious they were giving Heyes a hard time. He badly needed help by the look of him, but how was he going to rescue him? He couldn’t take on seven men with rifles with just a hand gun. It was suicide. He would have to watch and wait for an opportunity to arise. He just hoped Heyes could hold out.




Heyes lay, in too much pain to sleep, praying for some sort of relief. He began to wonder if being dead was so bad. At least it would end this agony. His only regret was that he and the Kid had parted on bad terms and he wouldn’t have the chance to straighten it out.

He just hoped the Kid would understand.

Eventually, he dozed off, to be woken, after what seemed like only a few minutes, by a boot in his ribs that started him coughing until he heaved.

One of the men, who Heyes had heard called Bob, untied him and offered him a mug of coffee, but Heyes shook his head, feeling too sick to drink it. All he could think of was that he couldn’t face another day of this. Anything was better.

"Git on your horse." Bob told him presently.

Heyes didn’t respond.

"I said, move." Bob shook him roughly.

Heyes gave a vague shake of his head. "I can’t." he muttered, his tone pleading.

"I can’t." His lips formed the words a second time, but no sound came out.

"Don’t give me that." Bob grabbed his injured arm, hauling him forcefully to his feet. Heyes gave a sharp cry of pain as he wrenched his injured shoulder.

"Move." growled Bob, dragging him towards his horse. Heyes stumbled to his knees, but Bob hauled him up without barely slackening his pace.

"Wait…" pleaded Heyes, stumbling a second time, but Bob hauled him towards his horse, Heyes yelping in pain with every step.

"Please ….I can’t…" he pleaded.

Felton appeared, his rifle aimed at Heyes. "I told you, if I thought you were stalling for time, I’d put a bullet in your head, didn’t I?" he said, staring icily at Heyes down the barrel.

"I’m not." Heyes sounded anguished, as he tried to stand up properly without passing out from the pain in his leg. "Please…" he pleaded, hating himself for letting them see him grovelling, but too exhausted and too scared for anything else. "…I’m not…" his voice caught. Why were they doing this to him? he wondered dazedly. What had he done to deserve this treatment? He swayed dizzily, his eyes pleading with Felton’s for compassion.

Felton waved the point of the rifle towards the horses, a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

Heyes finally got himself into the saddle, biting his lip to try and stop himself from crying out with pain as they tied him to it and secured his hands behind his back.

"Hi turkey." called Joey, as he rode by.

Heyes bowed his head, humiliated, that in itself almost as bad as the physical pain they’d inflicted on him.

Since his capture, they’d alternately ignored, insulted and beaten him, lowering his mental resistance and confusing his mind, making him vulnerable to their snide comments which normally wouldn’t have upset him in the slightest.

Some distance away, the Kid watched the proceedings with clenched fists, wishing there was something he could do. Heyes looked sick, and tired, and was obviously in a great deal of pain. He had to do something soon. Time was running out.





Mid morning, the men paused to water the horses. Again, they refused to give Heyes any of their water, retiring to the shade of some large rocks for twenty minutes, leaving Heyes on his horse out in the hot sun. He could hear them sniggering behind his back, and wondered again what he had done to deserve this treatment.

When they resumed their journey, the men made a big show of passing around their canteens, slurping the water noisily just to tantalise him.

Heyes could tell that Felton was just waiting for him to plead for some so that he could lay into him again, so he kept silent as they wended their way towards Cheyenne.

He was suffering from dehydration and was dizzy and nauseous. His physical pain was almost more than he could bear, his proud spirit beaten into submission by the endless humiliation and insults they’d subjected him to. He was almost past caring if he lived or died, but some deep rooted instinct for survival refused to let him give up. As unconsciousness threatened to engulf him, he tried desperately to keep alert, sure that if he passed out, Felton would maim, or kill, him. He didn’t know himself why he was fighting so hard to stay alive. All that was waiting for him at the end of this nightmare journey was twenty years in jail, and the prospect of that was even worse to Heyes than being dead.



When they made camp for the evening, McKenzie untied Heyes and told him to dismount and take his place by the wagon. When Heyes remained in the saddle, too exhausted to move, McKenzie reached up and pulled him off the horse. Heyes landed heavily on the ground, knocking the breath out of him.

"Move it." McKenzie hauled him to his feet and pushed him towards the wagon.

As he attempted to hobble over there, trying not to pass out, Joey appeared and began taunting him.

"Well, hello turkey." he grinned. "You must be nearly cooked now, being out in the sun all day. Now you know how turkeys feel don’t you? Hey guys" he shouted to the others. "We got our very own turkey, cooked and ready." He laughed, circling around Heyes, clucking and flapping his arms.

"Not that I’d pay as much for a turkey as we’re gonna get for you." he taunted. "Why, you aint even got any meat on you." he giggled, pawing at Heyes’ frail form, frailer still after almost five days with barely any food or water.

Suddenly, Heyes couldn’t take any more. Couldn’t take any more humiliation, any more pain. Something snapped in his mind, and he lunged at Joey, grabbing him around the throat and hanging on with the last of his failing strength, hissing obscenities at him through clenched teeth.

Felton leapt at them, dragging Heyes off Joey, who sank to his knees gasping for breath, and flinging him to the ground.

"I warned you ….. I warned you what would happen if you spoke to my brother again." Felton snarled, pointing an accusing finger at Heyes. He pulled out his knife and grabbed Heyes around the throat.

One look in his eyes told Heyes that he meant to carry out his threat to cut out his tongue.

"No." he cried, frantically trying to wriggle free. He managed to free himself and rolled away from Felton’s grasp, desperately trying to crawl away to safety. But there was nowhere to hide. Felton laid into him, punching and kicking him, trying to pin him down, cursing Heyes to hell, his eyes blazing with rage. Terrified, Heyes curled up, trying to fend off the blows, yelping with pain and begging for mercy, while the other men watched apprehensively. They knew Felton and his violent rages only too well. It didn’t take much to make his see red, hence his nickname, and they also knew the gruesome things he did to anyone who crossed him. They didn’t altogether like what he was doing to Heyes, but none would dare interfere for fear of getting the same treatment themselves.

One kick caught Heyes’ broken leg, causing him to scream out in agony. His scream was cut short as Felton got his arm around his throat, choking him. As Heyes coughed and spluttered, Felton grabbed his hair and pulled his head backwards, the knife flashing evilly, inches from his face. Heyes managed to turn his face away, trying to push Felton’s arm away. He was twisted round so that he was half sitting on his injured leg, and as Felton bore down on him, the pain threatened to cause him to black out, but he hung on desperately to Felton’s knife hand.

The others watched in morbid fascination as Felton cursed and Heyes screamed as they struggled for possession of the knife.




continues

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Chapter 3: Chapter 3

                                                       3-



Heyes’ screams of pain motivated Kid Curry. He belted down the ridge, hoping the element of surprise he had would be enough against seven of them.

Felton had his arm around Heyes’ neck, his hand pulling on his chin to force his mouth open. He was almost sitting on top of him and reached out his foot to press down on Heyes’ injured leg. As Heyes let out a howl of pain, Felton forced his jaws open.

He kept his foot on Heyes’ injured leg and, leaning forward onto him, forced him down onto one shoulder, so that his one arm was trapped beneath him and the other couldn’t reach Felton’s knife hand with any leverage.

Heyes choked and spluttered, trying to bite Felton’s hand, but Felton all but had his fist in his mouth now, and had forced his head so far back, he could barely swallow and was in danger of choking.

"No." he tried to cry out, but all he managed was an agonised whimper as Felton forced his fist into his mouth.

"Oh, God." Heyes prayed, silently, knowing that he was powerless against him. "Not this. Anything but this."

Too weak to fight any more, and paralysed by fear at what was about to come, Heyes closed his eyes and tried to block his mind to the unbearable agony about to be inflicted on him.

"Freeze!"

They all jumped as Kid Curry burst onto the scene with a blood curdling yell, his gun aimed at them.

One of the men made a move towards his gun. The Kid fired a warning shot that missed his toes by half an inch.

"Don’t try it." hissed the Kid.

"It’s Kid Curry!" said one of the men.

"Don’t try anything. He’s pretty good with a gun." said another.

Joey turned pale, remembering what Heyes had told him about his friends coming after them.

"Get away from him!" the Kid yelled at Felton, his eyes blazing.

Felton let go of Heyes, who slumped to the ground and lay still, and stood up slowly.

The Kid nodded to McKenzie. "You …tie up the others. Tight mind. I’ll be watching."

McKenzie did as he was told and then the Kid tied him up while keeping an eye on the others. He then confiscated their ammunition and took a couple of canteens of water, and a portion of their food, which he loaded into the back of their wagon, hitching up two horses to it and tying Heyes’ own horse to the back of it before scattering the rest and then hurrying over to Heyes’ motionless form, face down on the ground, afraid, for one heart stopping moment, that he was too late, that Heyes was already dead. But, as he crouched down by him, he could see that he was still breathing.

"Heyes?" he called softly. "It’s me, Kid. It’s O.K. You’re safe now."

Heyes gave no response.

The Kid frowned, worriedly. He had to get him out of here, and get him some medical attention, and fast. But it was obvious that he was badly injured and the Kid was afraid to touch him for fear of hurting him further. The frenzied attack that Felton had just made on him alone would be enough to injure him severely, without the other beatings the Kid had seen him endure, and he didn’t know what other injuries he may have suffered in the three days before he caught up with them. It might be dangerous, fatal even, to move him in his present condition, but what choice did he have? Help wasn’t going to come to them.

Carefully, the Kid got his arms underneath him, and, as gently as he could, picked him up, grimacing at the involuntary whimper of pain that escaped Heyes’ lips as he did so.

The Kid started for the wagon, glancing worriedly down at Heyes as he did so. At first glance, he appeared unconscious, his body limp in the Kid’s arms, arms dangling down, his head flopped back against the Kid’s shoulder, but his eyes were open, their expression glazed, and the Kid knew that he was in deep shock, unaware of anything going on around him.

The Kid lay him carefully in the back of the wagon and covered him with a blanket, staring down at his bloody, bruised and swollen, dirt streaked, face, scarcely able to recognise this as the same man he’d left in the saloon five days ago.

A wave of anger washed over him at the men who had done this to him, and, when he left the wagon, he had to use every ounce of self control he possessed to stop himself from going over and inflicting some of the same on them.

Instead, he climbed up onto the front of the wagon and headed off at a gallop, stopping, briefly, to collect his own horse before riding on again.

He rode several miles before he felt safe enough to stop and check on Heyes.

He climbed inside the wagon to find Heyes still lying as he’d left him, gazing unseeingly at the roof of the wagon.

The Kid wanted to examine him, to find out what harm those bastards had done him, but he was afraid to touch him. Instead, he said "It’s O.K. You’re safe now. Just relax. No-one’s going to hurt you."

Heyes gave no response, and the Kid got out of the wagon with a sigh.

He climbed back up on the front again, a frown furrowing his brow. After a moment, he picked up the reins. "Ya!" he shouted to the horses.

Instead of making camp somewhere for the night, he decided to ride to Lom’s. Heyes needed medical attention as soon as possible. If he rode straight through, he could get there by nightfall the next day. There were townships nearer than Porterville, but the Kid didn’t want to risk going to any of them, unless the situation was desperate, in case they were recognised. Heyes was injured, and in shock, but the Kid didn’t think his injuries were serious enough to be immediately life threatening. At least, he hoped they weren’t.

He rode all night, pausing, briefly, just after sunrise, to rest the horses and fix a quick breakfast. He tried to get Heyes to drink some water, but he was completely out of it, like a rag doll in his arms.

The Kid pressed on, stopping once more, by a small stream, to rest the horses and fill his canteen.

It was growing dark when he pulled the wagon up outside Lom’s cabin. Thankfully, a lamp was burning inside, indicating that Lom was at home.

The Kid climbed wearily down from the wagon, hoping, as he knocked the door, that Lom hadn’t got company, walking straight in without waiting for an answer.

Lom was just drying his hands at the sink, having heard the horses and been about to come out to see who it was.

"Kid!" Lom looked surprised. "What brings you here?" he asked with a smile.

"Trouble." The Kid took off his hat and wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "What else ever brings us here?" he added wearily.

"What’s happened?" Lom asked in a resigned tone of voice. Since going in for the amnesty they’d got into trouble several times, and each time had come to Lom for help. On each occasion so far, they had been able to prove their innocence and Lom had bailed them out, but, he had made it abundantly clear that if he ever found them guilty of any crimes charged against them, they could expect no help from him whatsoever.

"It’s Heyes." said the Kid. "He’s been hurt."

"Hurt?" Lom frowned. "What’s happened? Where is he?"

The Kid jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. "He’s outside, in the wagon…" He broke off temporarily, passing a weary hand across his eyes. "I didn’t want to risk causing you any trouble by coming here…" he raised his eyes to Lom’s now. "…but I didn’t know where else to go. Will you help?" he asked, his eyes pleading.

Lom stared at him momentarily, noting his dusty and dishevelled appearance, the weariness in his face, the worried frown on his brow and the pleading, almost desperate, look in his eyes as he waited for him to answer. He seemed almost beside himself, and Lom realised that whatever had happened must be pretty serious. A knot of apprehension began to form in the pit of his stomach as he nodded his reply. "Of course…" he began, hoping that however Heyes had come to be hurt, it wasn’t doing something illegal.

"Thank you." The Kid cut off the rest of his sentence, relief flooding his face. "Will you help me get him inside?" he asked, turning towards the door.

Lom nodded, following him outside.

"Don’t be shocked." the Kid warned as he climbed into the wagon. "He’s in pretty bad shape."

Lom nodded, dumbly, following him inside.

The Kid crouched down by Heyes. He could almost sense him flinch as he reached out and touched his shoulder.

"It’s O.K." he told him. "Lom’s here. We’re gonna take you inside. Relax now."

He turned to Lom who was looking at Heyes with an expression of disbelief, barely recognising this pale, battered, figure as his friend Hannibal Heyes.

"Help me carry him."

Lom nodded.

"Gently now." ordered the Kid.

Together they carried Heyes inside and laid him carefully on Lom’s bed. He was barely conscious, not aware of where he was or what was going on around him. He was physically and mentally exhausted, but some deep subconscious instinct refused to let him drift into total unconsciousness for fear of death, or disfigurement, at Felton’s hands.

The Kid covered him with a blanket.

"What the hell happened?" Lom burst out, his eyes taking in Heyes’ cut, bruised, and dirt streaked, face, scanning over his grubby, torn and bloodstained, clothes, his raw, bloody, wrists and the makeshift splint on his injured leg, before lifting his horrified gaze to the Kid’s.

"It’s a long story, Lom." sighed the Kid.

Lom nodded. "I’ll go for the doctor. You can tell me about it later."

While Lom was away, the Kid got some water and cleaned up Heyes’ face up as best as he could and bathed his cut wrists. He didn’t dare try to clean him up any further as he wasn’t sure what injuries he’d sustained and didn’t want to hurt him unnecessarily.

A short time later, Lom returned with the doctor, a stout, middle aged man, with sandy hair and a bushy auburn beard, who wore gold rimmed spectacles.

After Lom had introduced the Kid as Thaddeus Jones, and told him Heyes’ name was Joshua Smith, the doctor approached the bed to give Heyes a thorough examination.

He opened his shirt to look at the wound to his shoulder. "Someone’s removed the bullet from this wound, but it looks a bit infected." he commented to no-one in particular. "I’ll see to that later." He continued his examination. "Minor lacerations" he intoned, touching the cuts on Heyes’ face. "bruising to the face, throat …shoulders, arms …and back." he said as he looked over his body. "Bruised ribs …a couple cracked I think." He looked at Heyes’ hands. "Rope burns." he stated, examining the raw, red, wheals around his wrists. He straightened up, peering at Lom and the Kid over the rim of his spectacles. "I won’t even ask how he came to get in this state." he said severely.

Lom nodded. "Thanks."

The doctor moved onto Heyes’ leg, removing the splint and slitting his pants up to the knee with a knife before bending to examine the damage.

He stood up presently, tutting and shaking his head.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Best part of a week." the Kid told him. When the doctor frowned, the Kid added. "We were a long way from civilisation, in Nebraska. It’s taken until now to get back."

The doctor looked doubtful. There were other towns between here and Nebraska that they could have gone to for medical help instead of coming all the way here. But he refrained from comment. He knew Lom and his strange ‘friends’. His work under the amnesty system was an open secret in the district. These two, he assumed, were a couple of two-bit criminals he’d taken under his wing.

Lom only helped people he thought were decent, so they couldn’t be all bad, the doctor decided. The one he’d introduced as Thaddeus Jones seemed affable enough, although he looked a bit concerned at the moment. But he had an open, honest, face, with clear blue eyes that looked as though they laughed easily, and this other one was probably a handsome looking man underneath all this dirt and bruising. He would have liked to know just how he had come to take such a terrible beating, but he knew, if he asked, they would lie, so he let it go.

"The fracture is about five inches above the ankle." he told them now. "It’s started to knit wrong." That was an understatement. The leg was a mess. Goodness only knew what he’d been doing to it. "I’m going to have to straighten it and reset it." he said.

Lom nodded. "O.K."

"Hold his leg steady." said the doctor, positioning himself at the foot of the bed.

Lom walked to the bed and securely grabbed Heyes’ leg just above the knee, nodding to the doctor for him to begin.

The doctor pulled and twisted Heyes’ leg back into line with a crack that made the Kid shudder.

Heyes, who had lain semi-conscious until now, let out a scream of agony before being overcome by pain and finally passing out.

The doctor reset the leg in a splint from foot to thigh, before cleaning and bandaging the wounds to his shoulder and wrists, strapping up his injured ribs and treating the cuts to his face with iodine.

"There." he announced finally. "That’s about it." He straightened up and began putting his things in his bag. "Keep an eye on him." he told them. "Not that he’ll be going anywhere for a while." he added, casting a brief glance at Heyes’ face. "When he wakes up, try and get plenty of fluids into him. He’s very dehydrated"

"Thanks for your help, doc." Lom shook his hand.

"Pleasure."

Lom escorted him outside.

"He’s had a hell of a beating." the doctor told him. "He needs plenty of rest. If he should take a turn for the worse, send for me."

Lom nodded. "I will. Oh, and send the bill to me, would you?" he added.

"As you wish. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, doc, and thanks."

Lom went back inside and together, he and the Kid managed to strip Heyes of his grimy clothes and get him into some nightclothes before covering him with the bedcovers.

Lom gazed down at Heyes’ motionless form, a frown on his face.

The Kid had washed off the blood and grime, leaving a pale, bruised, face, with several days stubble. His cheeks seemed pinched somehow, and even asleep he looked a broken man. His lips were cut and swollen and there was a cut on his chin and a gash on his forehead, along with several bruises, and dark shadows of fatigue under his eyes.

"What the hell happened?" he asked the Kid, his voice gruff.

The Kid turned and left the room. With a last glance at Heyes, Lom followed, leaving the door ajar.

The Kid poured them some coffee, placing the mugs on the table and sitting down, gazing pensively into his mug. Lom sat down, picked up his mug and leaned back in the chair, putting his feet up on the table and crossing his ankles, fixing the Kid with a scrutinising gaze as he sipped the coffee. He noted that the Kid too was unusually pale, and he looked dead on his feet. Whatever had happened to Heyes had taken its toll on him too.

As he watched, the Kid yawned, raking his hands up through his hair and shaking his head. He hadn’t slept in almost thirty six hours, and not much in the five days before that while he’d tracked Felton’s gang, and he was fit to drop. It was only his concern for Heyes that had kept him going. Now that he knew he was going to be alright, the tiredness he’d kept at bay washed over him.

"Well?" Lom prompted.

The Kid shrugged. "Heyes was ambushed by seven men. I don’t know who they were - Bounty Hunters I guess - but they were obviously taking him to Cheyenne to hand him over for the reward, and, believe me, they weren’t fussy how they got him there." He paused, remembering.

"Where were you?" Lom asked.

A slight flush touched the Kid’s cheeks as he stared intently into his coffee. "We’d... er… sort of ...had a disagreement…" he began.

"You’d fallen out and gone off in a huff!" Lom finished for him. "What about?" he asked, as the Kid nodded.

The Kid shrugged. "It was one of those rows that flare up over nothing." He sighed. "We’d just arrived in Harrison, broke and saddle sore. We went to the saloon for a drink, and before long, we were arguing over the amnesty."

"The amnesty?" Lom raised an eyebrow.

The Kid nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Sometimes, it just don’t seem worth it, you know?" He glanced over at Lom. "Being constantly broke, always having to keep looking over our shoulders in case we’re recognised. Having to slink away when we are…" he shook his head. "It’s hard… and we take it out on each other sometimes." He trailed off, momentarily lost in thought. Then, making a visible effort to lighten up, he said. "I told him he was a self opinionated, arrogant, over-bearing son-of-a-bitch." He glanced at Lom, who raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"What did he say to that?" Lom asked, his expression amused.

The Kid shrugged. "Not much. He just gave me one of his ‘looks’, you know?"

Lom nodded. He could well imagine Heyes’ disdainful expression.

"He can be so …insufferable …sometimes." the Kid continued. "I lost my temper, told him I thought I’d do better on my own, and left." He sighed. "It was late when I went back to the hotel, but Heyes wasn’t there. I assumed he’d stayed out just to prove a point. When he didn’t come back the next morning, I wasn’t too concerned." He shook his head. "By the time I realised something was wrong, they were long gone. It took me three days to track them and catch up with them. By then, Heyes was in pretty bad shape …I don’t know what they did to him before then, but I saw enough in the day and a half that I followed them to make me sick to my stomach." He paused to take another sip of his coffee, his eyes flicking across to the bedroom, where Heyes was still out cold.

"They treated him worse than a dog." the Kid growled. He explained to Lom how they’d beaten and humiliated him, how they’d purposely tied him to his horse, and chained him up at night, even though there was no possible way for him to have escaped with his injuries.

"He tried so hard to stand up to them, but he was just too weak in the end."

He told Lom of what he had seen on the afternoon he’d rescued him.

"I don’t quite know what started it, but that guy went wild. I really thought he was going to kill him…" he broke off shaking his head.

"Heartless bastards." Lom said through his teeth. "You wouldn’t let an animal walk around in that state."

The Kid nodded agreement. "They wouldn’t even share their water with him out on the trail, and, when he didn’t do what they told him, they laid into him with their fists, boots, gun butts, anything that was handy ….he must have been in agony." he muttered, gazing into space, a frown on his face, feeling guilty that he hadn’t been able to rescue him sooner.

Lom got up and went to check on Heyes, who was deeply asleep, barely breathing.

"He’ll sleep right through." Lom whispered, closing the door and going over to a cupboard, returning with a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

He stoked up the fire and turned down the lamp and then sat down to pour them both a drink, handing one to the Kid. They sat talking over old times, when Lom had ridden with them as an outlaw before going straight and becoming Sheriff of Porterville.

It had taken a lot of talking by him to keep Heyes and the Kid on the straight and narrow, and they weren’t out of the woods yet. But they were two of his closest friends and he didn’t want to see either of them go to jail, or the gallows, or be killed in some senseless shoot out, and so he kept close tabs on them, bullying and cajoling them to stay out of trouble, sticking his neck out for them on the occasions they had ended up in jail.

He knew they were both grateful, although they tried not to show it. Indeed, they constantly complained at Lom, saying that the amnesty ‘wasn’t worth the trouble’, that they enjoyed robbing banks and trains and didn’t want to quit. But Lom knew that deep inside, it was what they wanted, or nothing on earth would have persuaded them to stick with it through the tough times, which, Lom had to admit had been plenty, particularly Heyes, who, despite his amiable manner and charming way, had a stubborn streak a mile wide and had always done precisely as he wanted, although his friendship with the Kid had mellowed him a little over the years. Indeed, they were good for each other. The Kid was apt to be highly strung and short tempered, and, in his youth, this, combined with his talent with a gun, had got him into a lot of trouble. Heyes’ easy charm had a calming influence on him, and, in return, the Kid’s dependence on him to keep him out of trouble had, over the years, taught Heyes to think of the consequences before dashing off on some hair-brained scheme.

In some ways they were as different as chalk and cheese, hence their frequent arguments, yet, in others, as alike as peas in a pod, but they were as close as it was possible to be without being blood relatives, closer sometimes, and Lom knew that each would be devastated if something happened to the other, hence the worried look on the Kid’s face now.

"You look tired." Lom told him as he saw the Kid’s eyelids beginning to droop.

"I am. I haven’t slept since yesterday."

Lom stood up and took the Kid’s glass from him.

"Turn in." he told him. "I’ll keep an eye on Heyes."

The Kid smiled. "Thanks, Lom." He got up and went into the other bedroom, undressing and climbing into bed, falling into an exhausted sleep almost before his head touched the pillow.




When the Kid got up the next morning, Lom was already eating breakfast.

"Hi." He wandered over to the stove and poured himself some coffee.

"Sleep well?" Lom enquired.

The Kid nodded, sitting down.

"Want something to eat?" asked Lom.

The Kid shook his head, sipping the coffee. "How is he?" He nodded towards the bedroom.

"Still out. He must be shattered."

The Kid nodded agreement. "I know the feeling." he said, yawning. He was still tired from his long journey the previous day.

They sat chatting for a while and then the Kid decided to have some breakfast.

They left Heyes to sleep until lunch time before going into the bedroom to check on him.

He had twisted onto his right side, his arms wrapped about his shoulders. The eighteen hours he’d slept had put a little more colour in his face, but he still looked exhausted.

Lom was standing with his head on one side, listening to his breathing, which was light and erratic. He leaned over and touched his shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Heyes?" he called quietly.

At Lom’s touch, Heyes woke with a startled gasp, a look of terror in his eyes. He shrank away from Lom’s touch, obviously expecting a beating.

Lom hastily removed his hand.

"It’s O.K." he told him. "You’re safe now. You’re in my cabin and everything’s gonna be alright. You just relax."

Heyes gazed vacantly ahead, seemingly unaware of their presence.

Lom nodded to the Kid to follow him outside.

"What’s wrong with him?" the Kid asked.

"It’s just shock." said Lom, a frown on his forehead. "He just needs time to collect himself."

They left him for a while and then looked in on him once more. He was lying exactly as when they’d left him, still gazing vacantly ahead, out of the window.

Lom approached quietly, not wanting to startle him.

"How’re you doing?" he enquired.

Heyes showed no indication that he was aware of their presence.

"Heyes?" Lom reached out and touched his shoulder.

Heyes’ gaze flicked briefly, unseeingly, in his direction.

"How are you doing?" Lom asked again. Heyes gave no response.

"Are you hurting much?" asked Lom.

Still Heyes gave no response, his gaze back on the window.

Lom and the Kid exchanged glances. Lom shrugged and tried again. Picking up a glass of water, he perched himself on the edge of the bed.

"Come on, Heyes, try and drink some of this. You must be thirsty." Gently he reached down and slid his arm under Heyes’ shoulders to lift him up enough to sip the water, noticing the boniness of his shoulders through the nightshirt, his body barely seeming to weigh anything as Lom’s strong arm raised him up off the pillow. He put the glass to his lips, relieved, when, as the cool water touched his lips, he responded and took a few mouthfuls before his swollen throat caused him to choke as he tried to drink more than he could swallow.

"Whoah, easy now." said Lom as Heyes coughed and spluttered. He put the glass down before taking Heyes’ pillow and plumping it up and then placing it behind him to raise him up slightly.

"Better?" he enquired as he lay him back against it.

Still Heyes gazed vacantly ahead of him, seemingly unaware of Lom, or the question.

Lom gazed down at Heyes’ pale, bruised, face. His dark eyes, which normally twinkled good humouredly, bore an unusually tortured expression. The expression of a man in pain and demoralized beyond his limit. Lom turned away, suddenly filled with anger at the men who had reduced such a fine, free spirit to this broken wreck, albeit, Lom hoped, temporarily. He strode out of the room, the Kid following him.

"I could kill those mongrels for what they’ve done to him." he spat with uncharacteristic venom.

They tried several times during the day to get some response from him, but it was as though he was locked in some tormented world of his own.

"Do you think he’s going to be alright?" the Kid asked that evening.

Lom sighed, pacing the room. "I don’t know. He’s shut himself off from everything because he can’t handle what’s happened to him. Either it’s too painful, or too humiliating, or both."

When they checked on him before turning in, he had at last fallen asleep.

"Hopefully, he’ll be a bit more lucid tomorrow." said Lom, as he closed the bedroom door.

After breakfast the next morning, Lom and the Kid went in to check on Heyes’ condition. He appeared to be sleeping, but, as they entered the room, his eyes flew open, eyeing them suspiciously as they crossed to the bed.

"Hello." Lom smiled at him. "How are you feeling?"

Heyes just stared at them.

"Are you hurting much?" asked Lom.

Heyes’ gaze slid off them to roam vacantly around the room, obviously trying to work out where he was.

"Heyes?" Lom prompted.

Heyes’ vacant gaze returned to Lom’s face.

Lom and the Kid exchanged anxious glances before Lom moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, grasping Heyes’ shoulders and pulling him into a half sitting position. "Heyes?" he called, shaking him when he didn’t respond. "Do you?"

Heyes stared at him for several moments as he fought to get his muddled thoughts into some kind of order, before finally nodding his recognition of Lom’s face.

"Tell me." Lom commanded.

Heyes stared at him for several more moments. "L-Lom…" he stuttered finally, his voice a whisper.

"And who’s this?" Lom pointed to the Kid at the foot of the bed.

Heyes turned his confused gaze onto the Kid’s face. It was several moments before he finally said "Kid." his tone dispassionate, making him sound like a stranger.

"And do you know where you are?" Lom asked.

Heyes gazed vacantly around the room before shaking his head.

"Yes, you do. You’ve been here before." Lom was shouting, now, as he tried to get through the fog clouding Heyes’ brain. "Come on, where are we?"

"I…" Heyes looked confused, shaking his head.

"Come on, Heyes. Think!" Lom demanded.

"Y-Your cabin?" Heyes replied finally, still sounding uncertain.

Lom nodded. "Where is it? What town? What State?"

Heyes frowned, obviously trying to search his mind for the information. "Chey…" he began, then stopped, looking confused. "No….Por …Porterville ….Neb …" he frowned again, shaking his head. "…Wy …Wyoming…?" he said finally.

"Right. Good lad."  Lom rubbed his hands up and down Heyes’ upper arms, in a gesture of encouragement, satisfied that he was at least coherent enough now to know who they were and where he was, although it was obvious that he couldn’t fathom out yet just how he’d got there.

"Do you …remember what happened?" Lom asked gently.

Heyes’ gaze slid off Lom, to some point beyond his shoulder, a frown creasing his brow. "I…" he began hoarsely, but then broke off with a helpless shrug, looking down to his lap, obviously confused and not a little upset.

Lom touched his shoulder. "It’s O.K." he told him, a lump coming to his throat at the desolate expression in Heyes’ eyes as he lifted them to his.

"Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk it through later, when you’re feeling stronger. O.K?"

Heyes bowed his head once more, giving Lom a vague nod.

"You rest a while." said Lom, easing him back against the pillows before he and the Kid left the room.

The Kid sank down at the kitchen table while Lom poured two cups of coffee, moving to place one in front of him before sitting down opposite to him and taking a sip.

"Don’t worry, he’s gonna be fine." he said, seeing the Kid’s anxious expression.

The Kid sighed. "I don’t know. He seems so…" he shrugged, at a loss to explain himself.

"It’s just the effects of what’s happened." Lom told him. "Those guys beat him into submission. He gave in because he was too weak, and too sick, to fight them any longer." He shook his head. "They came pretty close to destroying him, and it’s going to take a while for him to work his way through his feelings, and it won’t be plain sailing either, you mark my words."

"I’m just glad he’s O.K." said the Kid.

Lom nodded. "There’s a way to go yet, but he just might be."

Back to index

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Back to index

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Author's Notes:  

The next morning, the Kid went into town to fetch groceries, and to stop off at the saloon for a drink. Lom, who had taken a couple of days off work to help look after Heyes, went into the bedroom to collect the breakfast tray the Kid had earlier taken in.

As he entered the room, Heyes appeared to be reading a book, but Lom could tell he was just staring vacantly at the pages, his mind elsewhere.

"Hi." Lom smiled, crossing the room and sitting down on a chair by the bed. "How are you feeling today?"

Heyes closed the book and shrugged. "O.K. …I guess …." he sighed, fiddling with the corners of the book cover. "…I don’t know."

"I understand what you’re going through." Lom told him. "It’ll pass. Just give yourself a little time."

Heyes twiddled his thumbs nervously, avoiding Lom’s gaze, and Lom suddenly understood what the Kid had been trying to say the previous night. This wasn’t the Hannibal Heyes he knew. The one who never let any problem get him down, who would move heaven and earth to achieve any desired goal, who spat in the face of adversity. He was fighting a battle with himself, but, he didn’t seem to know what the battle was, and, worse still, Lom had the feeling he was losing.

"You’re doing fine." he told him. "Even though you might not think so right now."

Heyes shook his head. "You always could see right through me, couldn’t you Lom?"

Lom laughed. "I’ve known you a long time." he said, patting his shoulder. "We’re alike in a lot of ways, you and I." he continued. "We see things the same way. Most of the time." he added with a smile, remembering their frequent disagreements over the amnesty. "We feel things the same way. That’s why I understand how you’re feeling now."

Heyes shook his head. "You couldn’t …no-one could." He turned his anguished gaze to Lom’s now. "I feel so …" he trailed off, unable to find the words to describe his feelings.

"Angry? …Humiliated? … Defeated …Inadequate?" Lom suggested.

Heyes raked a hand through his hair, nodding. "But …I’m lucky to have escaped with my life …I should be over the moon …but …I just …feel so …so …" he shook his head, trying without success to find a way to explain. "I hate myself …you …everyone." he continued presently. "I don’t understand why …and I can’t seem to get myself out of it."

"There’s a lot of words to describe how you feel." said Lom. "What it comes down to is that you were pushed to the limit of your endurance, and beyond. It scars you emotionally, upsets the balance of your mind. It’s going to take a while, but you will get over it. The main thing is not to worry. You feel angry and hurt and humiliated, with good reason. That makes you resentful, that’s only natural. You feel confused, that’s to be expected. Your moods will swing from one extreme to the other, but it’s just your body’s way of dealing with what happened. You’ll be restless one minute, exhausted the next, happy one minute, suicidal the next, but, if you just let the feelings come and go, work your way through them, you’ll be fine. And don’t be afraid to ask if you need help, or if you want to talk. We’ll be here." He bent to look at Heyes, whose head was bowed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he enquired.

Heyes shook his head. He couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. He’d only just recovered all the memories of it himself, and it was too painful to even think about, let alone discuss.

"O.K." Lom didn’t push it. "Well, I hope it’ll help you understand what’s happening to you, and to come to terms with it."

Heyes swallowed, feeling strangely emotional. He nodded, turning to gaze out of the window, his eyes moist.

Lom looked at his pocket watch. "I have some chores to do. I’ll see you later. O.K? Call if you need anything." Lom got to his feet, and, patting Heyes’ shoulder, left the room.

Heyes gazed out of the window for some time, trying to put Lom’s words into perspective with what he was feeling.

Angry? Inadequate? Humiliated? Yes, he felt all of those. Angry because they’d got the better of him. Inadequate because he hadn’t been able to save Josie. Humiliated by the treatment they’d inflicted on him and his cowardly reaction to it. When he thought about what they’d done to him, and to Josie, and of how he’d behaved, grovelling, and begging for mercy, he really wished he was dead, and had an almost uncontrollable urge to get his gun, put it to his head and pull the trigger. He shuddered. He was, by nature, a strong willed survivor, and he hated himself for being such a coward, and he hated them for making him feel that way. He wished to God he could put it out of his mind. But he couldn’t, and every time he thought about it, the feelings engulfed him once more and he just wanted to die.

Images of the things they’d done to him flashed before his eyes; Felton threatening to kill him if he didn’t walk on his inured leg and shooting him in the shoulder just to prove the point; McKenzie tying him to his horse; Joey sniggering and calling him names; being chained up to their wagon at night like some animal; the beatings and the insults; Felton cutting him with his knife; the men sneering as they’d left him tied to his horse in the sun with no water; Felton kicking him around the floor, trying to force his mouth open to cut out his tongue. He couldn’t believe it had happened and that he had survived it.

Lom’s words echoed in his head. Angry! Humiliated! Defeated! Inadequate!

Tears of self pity spilled over onto his cheeks. He brushed them away angrily, feeling even more humiliated at his emotions getting the better of him. He tried hard to control himself, but the harder he tried, the weaker he felt. All be could think of was the paralysing terror he’d felt when Felton had tried to carry out his threat.

He covered his face with his hands, biting his lip as he tried to control his emotions.

Just then, Lom came back into the room. "Oh, by the way…" he broke off when he saw Heyes sitting with his face in his hands.

"Heyes? What is it?" he asked, sitting down by the bed and putting a hand on his shoulder, worried he was feeling ill.

Heyes shook his head, without removing his hands. "I …"he choked. "I…"

"It’s O.K." said Lom "Don’t fight it."

Heyes shook his head again.

"Just let it go, Heyes." Lom said gently.

Heyes hadn’t the strength to fight it any longer. He flopped down onto the pillow, folding his arms across it and burying his face in them, letting the tears flow freely.

"They …treated me like …an animal…" he choked. "They were going to …." He broke off, unable to say the words. "If the Kid hadn’t come when he did ….Oh God …I was …so …scared…" he broke off, overcome, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed, oblivious to the pains it caused in his injured ribs and shoulder.

Lom gazed at him compassionately, reaching out and patting him gently on the back, as though to sooth away his pain.

Eventually, Heyes managed to compose himself and rolled over onto his back.

"Why do I feel like this?" he croaked, wiping tears off his face with the back of his hand. "I haven’t …cried …in years …it always seemed so... pointless. It never changes anything." he said, a wistful look on his face.

"It’s your body’s way of coping with everything you’ve been through." Lom told him. "Just let the feelings come and go as they please, all the anger, frustration, humiliation. Don’t fight them. You’ll feel better much more quickly."

"I’m tired." said Heyes, and he looked it.

"You rest a while." said Lom, quietly leaving the room as Heyes drifted off to sleep.




When the Kid returned after lunch, Lom was sitting on the front porch puffing on his pipe.

"Hi." The Kid sat on the porch step and put down the bag of groceries. "How’s things?" he asked.

Lom nodded slowly. "Progressing." He muttered between puffs.

"Oh? How?"

"We …er …had a few tears this morning." said Lom.

The Kid’s mouth fell open in shock. "You’re kidding?" he said finally.

Lom shook his head. "No. We had a little chat earlier, about why he was feeling so down. When I went back later, he was in tears." He looked over at the Kid who was looking past Lom with an expression he couldn’t read, shaking his head to himself.

The Kid could scarcely believe it. Heyes hadn’t come close to shedding a tear for anything, or anyone, in over twenty years. He must be really shaken up to break down like that, and in front of Lom too. He would rather die than embarrass himself that way. But he’d been on the verge of this for days. The Kid had seen the signs, but hadn’t recognized them.

"Was he very upset?" he asked presently.

Lom puffed on his pipe. "Yeah, but it’ll do him good to get it out of his system. Those guys really knocked the stuffing out of him. He’s really screwed up about it all and he needs to get those feelings out, otherwise they’ll destroy him."

"Poor Heyes." the Kid muttered, half wishing he’d been there to comfort him, and half glad he hadn’t.

"There’s still a way to go yet. He’s got a lot of things he needs to resolve in his head."

"I guess." the Kid sighed. "What’s he doing now?"

"He was sleeping a while ago."

"I’ll put these away and take a look in on him."

Lom nodded. "O.K."

The Kid put the groceries away and then went into the bedroom. Heyes was awake and gazing vacantly at the book he’d earlier been reading, lost in thought. He didn’t hear the Kid enter and looked up with a startled expression as he spoke to him.

"Hi."

"Hi." Heyes replied, somewhat sharply, returning his gaze to the book.

"How are you feeling?"

"O.K." Heyes replied offhandedly.

The Kid frowned at his tone. "Have you tried the crutches yet?" he enquired, just for something else to say.

"No."

"Something wrong?" the Kid asked.

Heyes gave him a withering look.

The Kid raised his hands in mock defence. "O.K. Stupid question. Want to talk?"

"About what?" Heyes said sourly.

The Kid sighed. "Lom told me what happened this morning. I’m sorry I…"

"He what?" Heyes cut in sharply, his voice hard.

"He told me what happened." the Kid repeated, confused by Heyes’ outraged reaction.

He was shocked when Heyes angrily hurled the book across the room. "Trust him to go shooting his mouth off." he shouted, a little too loudly, dissolving into a fit of coughing, clutching his painful ribs.

"He’s concerned about you." the Kid replied. "We both are."

"Ha!" Heyes grunted, raking his hands through his hair. "I might have known." he said, as much to himself as the Kid. "You can never trust a Sheriff to keep his mouth shut."

"Heyes?" The Kid was indignant.

"Leave me alone." Heyes snapped, turning away from him.

"But …Heyes…"

"I said, leave me alone!" Heyes shouted, picking up one of his pillows and hurling it at the Kid, gasping at the sudden pain that shot through his shoulder and ribs as he did so. He turned away so that the Kid wouldn’t see the grimace of pain that crossed his face.

The pillow hit the Kid in the chest and fell to the floor. He stared open mouthed at Heyes, before turning on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door shut.

Lom came in off the porch just as the Kid slammed the door and stood staring at it in bewilderment.

"What’s up?" he asked.

The Kid explained what had happened.

"I should have warned you not to let on about that." Lom said, shaking his head. "He’s embarrassed to think you know he was upset. His reaction was predictable.

"But why should he be embarrassed? He’s my closest friend. Hell, he’s seen me through times like that."

"Pride." said Lom. "That’s a good sign. I was worried he was getting too overcome by it all to find anything of himself. It’s good to see him showing a little spirit. I warn you though, he’ll be like this for a while yet, so watch what you say."

"He threw his pillow at me. I’d better go pick it up."

"No." Lom stopped him. "He has others, and if he wants that one he can call one of us, or get it himself. Those crutches are by the bed. It’s about time he started to use them. Don’t make it easy for him"

"Yeah." the Kid agreed.

"And he can call for his supper if he’s hungry." Lom added, feeling slightly niggled at Heyes’ inference that he was a gossip.

"Right." said the Kid.

Heyes had the last laugh however. He didn’t call for any supper and they didn’t hear a peep out of him for the rest of the evening. When they went to check on him before turning in, they found the pillow still on the floor where it had fallen, and Heyes fast asleep, the lamp still turned up full, a book open on the bed where he’d left it, his blankets, as usual practically on the floor.

"I told you he was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch." Lom whispered with a smile. "Even now, as messed up as his mind is, he still has to have the last word."

The Kid stifled a giggle. "I guess so." he whispered, bending to turn the lamp down, but leaving the pillow where it was.

Heyes groaned and Lom and the Kid dashed out of the room for fear he would wake and find them there.

They closed the door, giggling like a couple of schoolboys.

The Kid had been upset to think of Heyes in tears that morning, but his spirits rose as he thought of his behaviour that evening. Lom was right. He was tough, even if he didn’t know it himself. Even in his confused state, his natural desire to have the last word, to be obstreperous, still hadn’t deserted him.

The next day, Heyes seemed in marginally better spirits, and, now that his shoulder was beginning to heal, and he’d regained some of his strength, he decided to try getting up, with the aid of the crutches that the doctor had provided.

Lom and the Kid helped him up out of bed and supported him as, overcome by dizziness, after six days in bed, he almost passed out. But after a few minutes the feeling passed and they gave him the crutches. He was a bit unsteady a first, but soon got the hang of it, going out onto the porch and sinking, exhausted, into a chair.



Over the next few weeks, Heyes was a nightmare to live with. Still in considerable pain from his injuries, he was, naturally, irritable. His sleep was also regularly disturbed by nightmares about his ordeal, which made him listless and depressed. As he struggled to come to terms with his feelings about what Felton and his men had done to him, and to Josie, his moods changed like the wind. One minute he’d be laughing with them, the next, throwing a fit of temper. Normally genial by nature, with a slow temper, both Lom and the Kid were surprised by his sudden harsh words and violent outbursts. Several of Lom’s cups and plates were broken by him when he exploded with fury for no apparent reason, and the Kid was stunned when Heyes went for him, physically, one evening, after a harmless, but rather tactless, remark about his kidnap, striking him hard across the face. The Kid just stared at him, speechless with a mixture of shock and surprise.

"I’m sorry." said Heyes, catching the look in his partner’s eyes. "I’m sorry, I…." He broke off, and, adjusting his crutches, limped out of the cabin, banging the door shut after him.

Lom blew out his cheeks. "My, my." he muttered.

"This is crazy." The Kid rubbed his face, where four red finger marks stood out clearly on his cheek. "I’ve never seen him get violent with anyone, unless he was picked on first."

"That remark was a bit tactless." Lom replied.

"Yeah, maybe. But even so…"

"It’s a touchy area." said Lom. "It’s his way of dealing with his feelings about what they did to him. He feels guilty for being what he thinks of as weak. That makes him angry with himself and he just lashes out. Then he feels guilty about that and is full of remorse. That’s why his moods are so erratic. You’d better not make jokes about what happened unless you want him to wallop you again."

"How can what happened have this terrible effect on him?" asked the Kid.

"These new, modern, physicians call it an ‘emotional breakdown’." said Lom. "A person’s system is pushed too far for them to cope with and suffers a total breakdown. I’ve seen it before. It can take a long time to get over. Some people don’t. Heyes needs understanding, not negative reactions. He’s hurt, and confused, and he doesn’t know why, or how to deal with it."

The Kid sighed. "I’d better go see if he’s O.K."

He went outside to look for Heyes who had gone over to the corral and was seated on a bale of hay, his face troubled.

"Heyes? You O.K?"

Heyes nodded, not looking at him.

"Don’t get upset. I understand. You didn’t mean it ….I hope?" he added, throwing him a questioning glance as he sat down by him.

Heyes shook his head. "I’m sorry." he said, his voice barely audible. He raked a trembling hand through his hair. "I don’t know what comes over me. I don’t want to do these things, but I can’t seem to stop myself."

"I know. Lom’s explained it all to me. I’m sorry about what I said in there. It was uncalled for. It was meant to be a joke, but I should have realised you couldn’t see the funny side right now."

Heyes didn’t reply.

"You’ll feel better when you get that splint off." said the Kid.

Heyes nodded. "Yeah. It bothers me …you know …that it might not heal right."

"Sure it will." the Kid told him.

"I guess." muttered Heyes, sounding unconvinced.


While they waited for Heyes’ injuries to heal, the Kid filled him in on how he’d tracked, and finally caught up with them, following while he tried to figure a way to rescue him.

Heyes listened, but said little in return. Lom was worried he was keeping too much inside. He’d barely spoken a word about what had happened during those five days, despite them trying to get him to open up about it, and there was a haunted look in his eyes that Lom had never seen before.

Finally, Doctor Simpson returned to remove the splint from Heyes’ leg and check on his shoulder and ribs.

Heyes had settled down a bit in the last couple of weeks, but seemed on edge this morning.

"And how are you now?" asked the doctor.

"Fine." Heyes replied, in a tone that told Lom and the Kid he was anything but, but the doctor seemed unaware of the tension in his voice.

"Shoulder’s healing nicely." The doctor told him. "So are the ribs."

All the cuts and bruises had disappeared now, save for faint red wheals around his wrists and a faint line where Felton had cut his chin with the knife, but those would fade in time.

The doctor removed the splint and examined the leg.

"Mmm. Seems alright." He looked at Heyes over the top of his glasses. "You were very lucky, young man. I did wonder if it would heal right, it was in such a state when you arrived. You must treat it gently for a while until you get your strength back."

Heyes nodded. "I will."

"Try it." The doctor told him.

Gingerly, Heyes stood up and took his weight on it.

"Well?"

"Feels strange, but it’s O.K."

"You’ve lost some of the strength in your muscles. Get plenty of gentle exercise and it’ll be alright in a couple of weeks or so."

"Thanks doc." said Heyes.

The doctor and Lom left the room.

"Come on." said the Kid. "Let’s go for a stroll. The sooner you get fit, the sooner we can leave here."

"O.K." said Heyes.

They strolled out the back and into a nearby meadow, Heyes limping slightly.

"How’s it feel?" the Kid asked presently.

"Like it don’t belong to me."

"We’d better not go too far." the kid said presently. "The doc did say ‘gentle’ exercise." said the Kid.

They strolled slowly back, enjoying the afternoon sunshine.

"I’m sorry about the way I’ve behaved these last few weeks." Heyes said suddenly, looking at the floor.

"Don’t apologise. It wasn’t your fault."

"I know …but ….it just isn’t like me. I bet Lom’s not too happy about the crockery and stuff I smashed …and then there was the day I hit you."

The Kid smiled. "Lom was quite amused. He doesn’t mind a bit. He’d never seen you have fits of temper like that. I think he enjoyed it. I think ‘relieves the monotony’ were his exact words."

Heyes looked embarrassed. "Don’t …I feel awful about it."

"Don’t be silly. We’re just glad you’re O.K. now."

Heyes didn’t reply. They walked a while in silence before Heyes suddenly said, with venom. "If I ever meet those guys again, I’ll kill them, I swear."

The Kid looked at him. Heyes wasn’t one for making idle threats, and he could tell from his expression that he meant his words. He just hoped the mood was a passing one.

"It’s not worth it." he told him presently.

"What do you mean?"

"Killing them. It would make you no better than them, and you are. And what about the amnesty? That would be out of the window."

Heyes sighed wearily. "I don’t know." he said, sounding anguished. "I just know I hate them for what they did to me …what they put me through. I may have healed on the outside, but the scars in here will stay with me for a long time." He tapped his temple.



They walked the rest of the way back in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts.

Later, while Heyes took a bath, now that he was able to get into the bathtub, the Kid told Lom what he had said about killing the men who had abducted him.

"Do you think he meant it?" asked Lom.

"What do you think?" the Kid gave him a withering look. "He doesn’t generally make idle threats."

"I know. But he’s still a little unsettled. Perhaps he’ll see things differently when he’s a little more straight in his mind. I can’t believe he’d really do it. It’s against everything he believes."

"He looked pretty serious to me." said the Kid. "And I can understand him feeling that way. I saw some of what they did to him, and I’d like to kill the bastards myself."

" ‘Like to’, yes, but you wouldn’t do it, surely?"

The Kid thought for a moment then shook his head. "No. But then, I wasn’t on the receiving end." He sighed heavily. "I tried to talk him round but …." he shook his head. "I’m afraid of what he might do if we ever run into them again."

"Well, you’re welcome to stay on here if you think Heyes needs more time to get himself together."

"Thanks Lom, but we can’t impose on your hospitality for ever. We need to move on, earn some money."

"Maybe you could find some work in town to tide you over for a while." Lom suggested. "To be honest, I don’t really think Heyes is fit enough yet to leave here either, physically or mentally."

"No." agreed the Kid.

Just then, Heyes burst into the room. It was obvious from his expression that he had heard what they’d been saying.

"Would you like me to go out again so you can finish talking about me?" he said with sarcasm. Yet another sign that he wasn’t completely recovered.

"Heyes." sighed Lom. "Don’t get uppity. We were just saying…."

"I heard." Heyes interrupted, his dark eyes like chips of coal.

"We were just trying to decide the best thing to do next." said the Kid. "If we can get some work around here, we can stay on for a while. Give you a chance to get fit…"

"There’s nothing wrong with me." snapped Heyes, pouring a cup of coffee and banging the pot down on the stove.

Lom and the Kid exchanged glances.

"You’re welcome to stay on here, Heyes. I’m not kicking you out." said Lom. "We were just discussing the options."

"Yeah, I was just saying that it’s not fair for us to keep imposing on Lom’s hospitality." added the Kid, as Heyes glared at them. "It can’t be cheap feeding the three of us, and I ran out of cash weeks ago."

Heyes slammed his cup down on the table, its contents slopping over onto the wooden surface.

"We’ll leave in the morning." he snapped. "I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. Least of all you." he snarled at Lom, turning on his heel and heading for the door. Lom caught his arm. "You’re not. Don’t be ridic--" he began, but broke off at the look in Heyes’ eyes as he wrenched free from his grasp.

"Take your hands off me." Heyes said flatly, glaring at him with a fire in his eyes that Lom hadn’t seen for a long time. He would have been pleased if Heyes had been angry for the right reasons, but he knew that it was just another rebellion against his treatment by Felton and his men. A show of pride, and Lom was quite offended by his tone. He dropped his arm and glared back at Heyes.

"Don’t worry. I’ll see you’re reimbursed in full for what I’ve cost you." Heyes hissed at him, leaving the room and slamming the door so hard it shook.

Lom stared at the door in disbelief.

"I’m sorry, Lom." said the Kid, mortified by Heyes’ outburst after Lom’s kindness to him. "He had no right to speak to you that way."

Lom sighed, walking over to the stove to pour some coffee. "I shouldn’t be angry. I know why he reacted that way, but, I swear, I don’t know how I kept my hands off him."

"You have every right to be angry." said the Kid.

Lom shook his head. "He’s still on edge. Us talking about him behind his back like that upset him. He just over-reacted. He’ll regret it when he’s had time to cool off."

"I don’t care." snapped the Kid. "He had no right to speak to you like that. I’ve had enough of all this pussyfooting around in case it upsets him. I’m going to tell him what I think of him."

"No …wait …" Lom began, but the Kid had already left the room.

He burst into Heyes’ room, flinging the door open with such force it banged back against the wall.

"You’ve got a nerve." he said to Heyes, who ignored him.

"Kid…" called Lom, but the Kid waved him away. "Stay out of this." he told him, closing the door on him.

"Just what the hell is wrong with you?" The Kid walked around in front of Heyes, hands on hips.

Still Heyes ignored him, gathering his things together.

The Kid grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn round and face him.

"What do you mean, speaking to Lom that way, after all he’s done for us …for you? I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life." he hissed at him.

"Let go of me." snapped Heyes, wrenching his arm free. Since his treatment by Felton’s men, he‘d developed a paranoia about being mauled by people. "What do you mean, going behind my back and telling him what I said about Felton?" he growled, with a look of hatred in his eyes. "That was a private conversation, between us. If I’d wanted him to know, I’d have told him myself. Now he thinks I’m off my head."

"I wonder why?" the Kid retorted sarcastically. "Look at you. You’re raving about something totally trivial." He glared into Heyes’ angry gaze. "Yes, I did tell him what you said, because I’m worried what you might do in your present state of mind. And looking at you now I have good reason to be."

"What ‘state of mind’?" sneered Heyes. "You’re starting to sound like him now." He jerked his head in the direction of the other room where they’d left Lom.

The Kid sighed, trying to contain his rapidly rising anger.

"You’re still …confused …You’re not thinking rationally…." he began, but Heyes spoke over him.

"My thinking is perfectly rational." he snapped indignantly.

"No. It’s not. If it was, you wouldn’t be talking about killing anyone, especially in cold blood, however angry you were. It’s just not in you."

"Perhaps I’ve changed." said Heyes

"You have. For the worse."

Heyes glared at him. "With good reason" he said flatly.

"Look" said the Kid, losing patience with Heyes’ irrational attitude. "All I said was that I was worried about us leaving here in case we ran into Felton and his men and you did something stupid. I think that’s a reasonable concern given our current circumstances. Lom thinks we should stay here a while longer, but I don’t think it’s fair on Lom to live off him. We’ve been here for ages as it is. We need to get some money."

"The government pay him well as a Sheriff. If we have to live off anyone, it might as well be those who are trying to catch us."

The Kid stared at him, shocked at the coldness in his voice.

"Lom’s our friend." he said, his tone incredulous. "How can you say that?"

"Friend or not, his money still comes from the government."

"You callous bastard." the Kid hissed at him. "There was no call for you to speak that way to Lom. I want you to apologise to him."

Heyes grunted, cynically, turning away to resume his packing. "I have good reason to be callous" he snapped. "and as for apologising ….you can go to hell."

Before he could stop himself, the Kid swung a punch at Heyes. Heyes staggered back against the wall before angrily swinging a punch back at him, catching him on the cheek. The Kid retaliated automatically, without thinking, punching Heyes hard in the stomach and then in the face. Heyes sank to his knees, dazed.

"How dare you ….." the Kid hissed, furious now. "What gives you the right to dictate to me, or Lom, after what we’ve done for you? We’ve been patient with you for far too long." He pointed a finger at him. "You’re turning into a prize bastard, do you know that?" He turned on his heel and strode to the door, pausing to look back at Heyes who was still on his knees, head bowed, one hand bracing himself off the floor while the other clutched his stomach.

"Pull yourself together, Heyes, or you’re on your own. I’ve had it with you." He turned away and slammed out of the room.

Heyes sat back on his heels, gasping for breath, wiping blood off a split lip.

Slowly, his anger subsided, and the Kid’s words began to hit home. He climbed slowly to his feet and sat on a chair by the open window. He folded his arms on the window ledge, resting his chin on them as he gazed out into the night. The more he thought about it, the worse he began to feel. The Kid had rescued him from that terrible, terrible ordeal, when the odds had been heavily stacked against him. He’d brought him here and he and Lom had nursed him back to health, putting up with his moods and tantrums, and for what? For him to hurt and insult them.



The Kid went out to the front porch, where Lom had gone to sit. He rubbed his still smarting cheek, still too angry to have any compassion for Heyes.

"What happened?" asked Lom, noting the redness around the Kid’s eye. He had heard their raised voices, but hadn’t been able to decipher what was being said.

The Kid shrugged. "I said my piece."

Lom raised a sceptical eyebrow, suspecting that more than just words had been exchanged between them.

The Kid paced up and down the porch, anger still boiling inside him.

"He’d have realised soon enough he was wrong." Lom told him.

"Aw, he deserved a belting." the Kid snapped "He’s had it coming for a while." he said with uncharacteristic venom.

"Maybe." Lom looked doubtful. It was true Heyes had behaved very badly, but the Kid didn’t understand the reasons for it. His physical injuries may have healed, but mentally, he was far from recovered.

"Is he alright?" Lom asked now.

"I don’t know." said the Kid. "I didn’t wait to find out."

"Have you done this before?" asked Lom.

"Sure, we argue all the time."

"I mean fight. I’ve never seen you come to blows before."

The Kid sighed, letting the anger out of him. "We’ve got pretty mad with each other, but…" He suddenly began to feel guilty. Heyes was older than him, and a lot wiser, not to mention smaller. The Kid had always relied on him to look after him, keep him out of trouble, almost like a substitute Father. Now that his temper was subsiding, the Kid felt bad about laying into him like that. Especially after what he’d already been through.

"Perhaps I shouldn’t have hit him." he said eventually. "He’s been hurt enough already."

"It’s too late now." said Lom, getting up and heading towards the door. "You can’t undo it now. Anyway, as you say, I guess he had it coming."

The Kid followed him inside.

"Don’t worry about it." Lom told him. "He’ll survive."

They set about preparing supper and ate alone in the kitchen.

In the bedroom, Heyes was still sitting by the window, deep in thought. His chin still resting on his arms, he gazed out of the window, wondering what to do. He felt awful about the things he’d said, to Lom, and to the Kid. He knew he ought to apologise, but his newly regained sense of pride got in the way.

He wanted so much to appear strong and tough after all these weeks as an emotional wreck, but his friends meant more to him, and he’d wronged them both.

He sighed. Maybe he should just leave, sneak out in the middle of the night, then he wouldn’t have to face them. But that was a coward’s way out, and he was sick of acting like one. Anyway, he didn’t want to be on his own. He’d felt so desperately alone while Felton had held him prisoner. He didn’t want to feel that way again, ever.

Gradually, his eyelids drooped, and he fell asleep where he sat.

"Do you suppose he’s O.K?" the Kid asked, some time later. "I hope I didn’t hurt him." he said, remembering the doctor’s advice for him to take things easy. "He only got the splint of his leg this morning, he could have damaged it again or…"

"Shall I go see?" asked Lom.

"No …yes …oh, I don’t know."

Lom got up and went into the bedroom. The room was in darkness. Lom could just about make out Heyes’ shape at the window. He walked quietly over to him. He was sitting with his head on his arms, his eyes closed.

"Heyes?" Lom whispered, suddenly gripped with a fear that he might be hurt, or worse.

Heyes did not stir. Lom bent closer and listened for a moment. His breathing seemed normal enough. He didn’t disturb him, but crept out again, satisfied he was alright.

"Well?" asked the Kid."

"He’s O.K." said Lom. "Fell asleep where he sat."

continues

Back to index

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Back to index

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Heyes slept late, after his disturbed night, and he was very withdrawn when he emerged from his room as Lom and the Kid ate an early lunch.

"Hi." Lom said cheerfully, a chunk of bread in his mouth.

"Hi." Heyes replied, absently, without looking at either of them.

The Kid looked up at him over the rim of his coffee mug. "You O.K?" he asked, taking a swig.


Heyes gave a vague nod, pouring himself a mug of coffee and going over to the window, standing with his back to them, gazing pensively out as he drank.

Lom and the Kid exchanged glances. The Kid raised his eyebrows in a question. Lom shrugged.

They made idle chit chat, watching Heyes as he continued to stare out of the window, deep in thought, as he finished the coffee.


After several minutes, Heyes put down his cup, and, leaving Lom and the Kid with puzzled expressions, went outside, wandering out through the meadow at the back of Lom’s cabin, feeling the need to be alone to think.

He strolled along, not consciously thinking of where he was heading, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his shoulders and watching how the light dappled through the leaves of the trees. He came out into a little clearing and sat down by a narrow brook, stretching out and folding his arms behind his head, flexing his leg, which still ached a lot. He supposed it would for good now.


He supposed he should be grateful that was the only after-effect of his physical injuries. He could easily have been crippled, maimed or killed. Yet the thought didn’t give him any satisfaction. He was still too full of resentment, too humiliated, the pain of his injuries still too fresh in his mind for him to be glad just to be alive. At the moment, being alive was hell.

A look of anguish came to his face as he recalled his nightmare the previous night, the memories it brought back to him, and the way he had behaved, crying like a baby in front of Lom and the Kid.

He spent most of the afternoon there, chewing it over in his mind, trying to rationalise his thoughts and feelings.

Heyes was normally a very logical thinker, but he couldn’t seem to be logical about what Felton and his men had done to him, and it’s effect on him. No matter which way he tried to look at it, anger and resentment rose up in him, cutting off all rational thought.


He thought of all the advice Lom had given him. He’d been a great help. Without him, he’d have gone bananas. He hoped Lom knew how grateful he was. He couldn’t begin to put it into words. And what about the Kid? They hadn’t talked much, not really talked, but Heyes knew it wasn’t because he didn’t care, he just didn’t know how to express it. But he was there, close by, quietly supporting him, like always.

He was a good friend. The best. He may not be as articulate as some, but Heyes would trust no-one else with his life, not even Lom. Hell, if it hadn’t been for the Kid, he would have been dead now, or worse… He shuddered at the thought. The Kid had taken a tremendous risk, taking Felton’s men on, alone, with just a hand gun, and he hadn’t thanked him. Not really.



"Where do you suppose he’s gone?" the Kid looked worriedly out across the meadow while Lom puffed on his pipe, rocking gently in his rocking chair on the porch.

"He needs some time to think." said Lom "Don’t worry, he’ll be back."

"How do you know? What are you, a mind reader?" the Kid snapped irritably. He was doing it again, he thought angrily. It was like he could predict Heyes’ every action.

The Kid had no idea where Heyes had gone, and he was churning himself up wondering if he was going to do anything stupid, especially after the state he’d been in the previous night. Yet Lom was sitting there so calmly, confident that he knew what Heyes was doing, and it drove the Kid crazy.

"No." Lom said matter-of-factly. "But it’s what I’d feel inclined to do in his place."

The Kid sighed. "Well, I’ve tried putting myself in his place, and thinking wouldn’t be top of my list of things to do."

Lom looked up at him, taking the pipe out of his mouth.

"Don’t give me that crap about thinking alike." the Kid cut in as Lom opened his mouth to speak. "Maybe you do, sometimes. But not over this. You have nothing to compare it with, so how do you know what you would do in his place? Or what he’s going to do?"

"Funny." Lom smiled. "He said the very same thing."

"Huh?"

"I told him I understood what he was going through, and he said I couldn’t."

"There, you see!" the Kid wagged a finger at him. "Well I can. I was there. Hell, it was almost as bad for me watching it. I know what I’d feel like doing." He turned away from Lom to scan the horizon for a sign of him.

Lom eyed him thoughtfully. Maybe he was right. Perhaps last night had been too much for him. He had been very upset. Lom thought for a moment. No, Heyes had fought so hard to stay alive, out there, with Felton, and since, as he’d tried to preserve his sanity, and what was left of his dignity. He wouldn’t give up now, of that he was certain, and he said as much to the Kid.

"Don’t torture yourself. Do you suppose he fought so hard to survive, to give up now?" He shook his head. "I appreciate your point, but he’ll be O.K. Trust me. He’s not suicidal. Just …confused. He just needs to sort it out in his head, that’s all."

The Kid sighed deeply. "You’d better be right, Lom."



The sun was just beginning to dip below the tree tops when Heyes finally appeared, walking slowly across the meadow, chewing on a piece of grass. He hadn’t got it all sorted out, but a few things had become clearer in his mind, and he felt a little more settled that he had that morning.

The Kid looked at Lom, who shrugged. He wanted to go and meet him, question him, but refrained. Lom puffed nonchalantly on his pipe, watching Heyes though narrowed eyes.


Heyes reached the porch, throwing away the piece of grass as he stepped up onto it.

The Kid turned to face him, his eyes full of questions. "Heyes?"

Heyes suddenly embraced him. "I didn’t thank you for what you did." he told him.

The Kid looked confused. "You did." he said.

"No, not really. I didn’t realise what a risk you took to help me. Thank you."

He pushed the Kid to arms length, looking intently into his eyes. His gaze was steady, and the Kid knew that Lom had been right. He’d been trying to sort things out in his head, and he seemed to have made considerable progress. That tormented look was fading, and a new determination creeping into his eyes.

The Kid nodded his acceptance and Heyes turned away, stepping over to Lom.


"I can never thank you enough, Lom." He told him. "Without your help, I’d never have got through it all." He extended his hand to Lom. Lom got up and shook it. Heyes had said this before, but now his words had new meaning.

"I’ve let this thing with Felton get the better of me for far too long." Heyes told them. "It’s time I put it behind me, and got on with my life. So," he looked at the Kid now. "if it’s alright with you I’d like to forget about what we said about finding work here, and move on."

"It’s fine with me." The Kid nodded.

"It’s not that I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, Lom." Heyes turned to him now. "I just think… a change of scene will do me good."


"I understand." said Lom.



And so, two days later, they bid Lom goodbye and mounted their horses.

"Take care now." Lom told them.

"We will." said the Kid. "And thanks again."

Lom waved his thanks aside. "Keep in touch."

"We will. Thanks, Lom." said Heyes, gazing intently at him. Then, with a cheeky grin that Lom hadn’t seen in a long time, he spurred his horse, the Kid following at a gallop.

Lom watched them go with a smile. Heyes would be O.K. It would take a while, for the pain and humiliation to fade from his mind, but he would make it.





Lom had loaned them some money to tide them over, and after a few days they arrived in the small township of Alcova.

They checked into the hotel, intending to stay a few days and see if they could find some work.

They took a bath and then went out for some supper, enjoying the meal all the more for not having had to catch and cook it themselves.


When they’d finished, the Kid leaned back in his chair patting his full stomach.

"Fancy a drink in the saloon?" he asked, glancing across at Heyes who was sitting in a similar pose, smoking a rare cigar.

An odd look came into Heyes’ eyes. He hadn’t been in a saloon since the day Felton had abducted him. In fact he hadn’t been anywhere other than Lom’s cabin. The Kid’s suggestion brought memories of that day, and Josie, flooding back. Memories he’d been trying hard to bury. A shudder ran through him now as he remembered the events of that day. Even though he had been powerless to prevent what had happened, it didn’t ease the guilt he felt that an innocent person, and a woman at that, had died, brutally, just for having been unfortunate enough to be in his company. He felt he hadn’t tried hard enough to help her, that if he hadn’t been so scared for himself, he might have been able to save her. Lom and the Kid knew nothing of it, and Heyes hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell them, believing that they thought him weak because of the way he’d reacted to Felton’s treatment of him, and that if he told them what had happened to Josie, they would be even more disgusted at his cowardice.

"Heyes?" the Kid prompted when Heyes didn’t answer.

Heyes jumped. "Mmm?"

"I said, do you fancy a drink in the saloon?"

Heyes didn’t, but what reason could he give without the Kid questioning him?

"I guess." he replied vaguely.

They paid for their meal and strolled across the street to the saloon, where the Kid ordered, while Heyes gazed around him, lost in thought, feeling strange among the crowd and noise and music after his months of solitude, both physical and mental, at Lom’s.

He returned to the present as the Kid nudged him to hand him his drink.

"Oh …thanks." he muttered, accepting the glass.

"Gonna try your hand?" the Kid nodded towards a card game going on in the corner, assuming that that was what he’d been gazing at.

"I don’t know…" Heyes looked doubtful. "I’m a little rusty…."

The Kid grunted good humouredly. "That’ll be the day. You play cards like other people breathe air."

Heyes smiled, turning his attention to the card game, a spark of interest in his eyes. It had been quite a while since he’d had a game. It would be interesting to see if he still had the touch.

"Well …O.K." he said finally.

The Kid looked pleased. "Just make sure you win. We could use the money."

Heyes went off to sit in at the game. The Kid stood at the bar, studying him for a while.

He seemed apprehensive at first, but, as his instincts for the game took over, the Kid could see him begin to relax, and soon he was totally absorbed in the game, everything else temporarily forgotten.

It would do him good, the Kid mused, turning away, with a smile, to refill his glass. He’d brooded on his problems for far too long.

Presently, the Kid was approached by one of the saloon girls, who introduced herself as Katie. They stood talking and it wasn’t long before he was persuaded to go upstairs with her.

They passed by Heyes’ table and the Kid bent to tell him where he was going.


"Oh …right." Heyes looked up briefly from his cards, looking at Katie with an odd expression, before turning his attention back to the game.

He played several games and won a fair amount of cash, enough to last them for a few days anyway. He decided to quit, while his luck held, and returned to the bar to get a drink, feeling quite pleased with himself.

Alone at the bar, it wasn’t long before he was approached by one of the saloon girls, as was their custom.

"Hello." The girl put her hand on his shoulder and pressed her body against his.

"Hi." Heyes smiled politely.

"Want to buy me a drink?" she smiled, seductively."

"Sure." Heyes got a glass and poured her a drink.

"Thanks." she picked up the glass. "I’m Agnes."

"Joshua." replied Heyes.

They stood talking for a while, or rather, Agnes talked and Heyes answered her in words of one syllable, unusual for Heyes, who was never normally short of anything to say, especially to a pretty girl, but his ordeal at Felton’s hands seemed to have drained him, not only physically, but mentally as well. He couldn’t think of anything to talk to her about, and didn’t particularly want to try.

The Kid returned with Katy a short time later and they all stood at the bar talking, the Kid with his arm around Katy’s shoulder while she nibbled playfully at his neck.

The kid noticed Heyes’ unusual aloofness, but thought nothing of it until Agnes, fed up of trying to draw him out, decided on the direct approach, threw her arms about Heyes’ neck and kissed him sensually on the lips, pressing herself to him with a whispered plea for him to come to her room.

"No!" Heyes snapped, pushing her forcibly away from him, an agonised look on his face, much to Agnes’ indignance and the surprise of Katy and the Kid.

As he looked at their surprised expressions, Heyes realised how it must look. No-one turned away the attentions of a woman, especially women like these, unless they were queer, or crazy. Well, he certainly wasn’t queer, but he began to wonder if he was crazy. Agnes was a handsome looking woman. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but, as he looked at her now, all he could see was Josie, and those men raping her, and he felt sick. If she hadn’t been with him that day, she would be doing this now, and Heyes had the irrational thought that if he went with Agnes now it would somehow happen all over again.

"Joshua?" the Kid said questioningly.

Heyes made an effort to pull himself together.

"I’m sorry." he said to Agnes. "I didn’t mean to yell at you. Let me buy you another drink to make up."

"That’s alright." Agnes pouted prettily, pressing herself close to him once more. "I can think of a much better way." she said into his ear, nibbling his ear lobe and then working her way along his jaw bone to kiss him once more on the lips, her fingers sliding teasingly up his neck and through his hair.

Heyes closed his eyes, resisting the urge to push her away from him. He didn’t want to sleep with Agnes, with anyone, right now, he had too much on his mind. But as Agnes skilfully kissed him, his body refused to be controlled by his mind and he began to respond, putting his arms around her and pulling her closer, a shiver of anticipation running through him.


Before he knew it, they were upstairs in her room. He hesitated, briefly, haunted by memories, but they were soon overtaken by desire as Agnes skilfully kissed and caressed him. They tumbled onto the bed discarding their clothes, Heyes allowing himself to enjoy the touch of her silky skin, the smell of her cologne, the softness of her hair as it touched his face, the warmth of her arms around him and the temporary comfort they gave him, like the much missed embrace of the Mother who’d been snatched from him so long ago.


Afterwards, they lay, spent, in each other’s arms. When Heyes opened his eyes to look at her, naked in his arms, the vision of Josie’s naked and blood spattered body flashed into his mind, and he felt sick with guilt.

With a stifled groan, he abruptly let go of her, rolling away and sitting on the edge of the bed his head in his hands.

"What’s wrong?" Agnes reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Heyes recoiled from her touch, standing up and beginning to dress.


Agnes sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet about her. "Wasn’t I good?" she asked worriedly. She didn’t usually get this reaction from her clients.

“You were fine.” said Heyes, buttoning his shirt. “I just …have to go, that’s all.” he said, his voice sounding strangled.  He put some money on the dresser and picked up his hat before daring to face her again. 

 “I’m sorry.” he said softly, before turning and leaving the room.   

Agnes watched him go, a wistful look on her face.  He was a handsome man, and caring too.  Not brutal, seeking only his own pleasure, like most of the men she had, and she briefly indulged herself in her dream, that someone, someone like him maybe, would one day take her away from all this.  Then she smiled, sadly. Who was she trying to kid?  

With a sigh, she got up off the bed and began to get dressed ready for her next client.  

The Kid grinned at Heyes as he came downstairs, but it died on his lips as he looked into Heyes’ face.  He looked tense, distraught even.  

“Heyes?” The Kid caught his sleeve as Heyes put on his hat and made to walk straight past him. He paused and turned his gaze to the Kid’s.  

“What’s wrong?” asked the Kid.  

“Nothing.” Heyes pulled his arm away and went outside.  The Kid followed him.  

Heyes was standing on the boardwalk, his hands resting on the railing, gazing out into the night, his eyes troubled.  

“Heyes?” the Kid touched his shoulder. “Are you O.K?”  

Heyes flinched away from his touch. “I’m alright.” he snapped.  

“No you’re not.  What is it? What’s happened?”  

“Nothing.  Leave me alone.”  

“Heyes.” the Kid’s tone was reproachful. “What’s wrong?”  

Heyes shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Really.”  

The Kid sighed. “Then come back inside.”  

Heyes closed his eyes. “I can’t.” he sighed.  

The Kid frowned. “Why not?”  

“I just …can’t.  Just leave it will you?” he snapped, turning and striding back towards their hotel.  

“Heyes, wait!” the Kid called, but Heyes ignored him.  

Shaking his head, the Kid went back inside.  He paid for their liquor and then went in search of Agnes.  He found her across the other side of the room, sitting on some guy’s lap. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Agnes excused herself and stood up.

“What do you want, lover boy?” she asked, twiddling the buttons on his shirt and eyeing him sultrily.  The Kid removed her hand, fixing her with a hard gaze.  

“My friend, Joshua.  What happened?”  

Agnes looked both surprised and insulted by the question.  

“Why do you want to know?” she asked. “Give you a miss tonight did he?” she added cynically.  

The Kid wanted to slap her for that remark, but refrained.  He supposed his question was a little unorthodox.  

“Was he alright? Did he …act strange? Do anything odd?”  

Agnes smiled seductively. “He’s not kinky, if that’s what you mean.”  

“No, it’s not.” The Kid sighed impatiently. “Look, he’s been …ill, recently.  He seemed tense, upset, when he left here. I’m worried about him.  Did he say, or do, anything strange?” he asked again.  

Agnes looked apologetic.  She had sensed the vulnerability in him and it had drawn her to him.  

“No.” she replied in a more civil tone.  “He didn’t do anything unusual, but he couldn’t wait to leave afterwards, and he seemed …” she searched for a way to explain, before shrugging. “…I don’t know …I thought it was something I’d done, but he said not.  He just thanked me and left.  He looked kind of sad.” she added, gazing past the Kid’s shoulder as she remembered the haunted look in those dark eyes.  

“I see. Well, thank you.” said the Kid.  

Agnes shook herself out of her reverie and smiled up at the Kid.  Not the seductive smile she reserved for her clients, but a sad little smile that showed she understood a lot more than she let on. 

“That’s alright.” She paused briefly before adding. “I hope he’ll be alright.”  

“Me too.”

The Kid tipped his hat to her before heading back to their hotel room.  

Heyes was sitting on the bed, hugging the pillow to his chest, gazing blankly at the wall.  

The Kid tossed his hat onto the dresser and sat down in a worn armchair in the corner of the room.  

“Heyes?”  Heyes didn’t answer him.  

“Heyes.” the Kid repeated.  

Heyes shifted his gaze to his.  

“What’s wrong?”  

Heyes shook his head. “Nothing.”  

“Don’t give me that.” retorted the Kid. “You’re upset about something.”  

“I’m alright. Just leave me alone.” Heyes muttered.  

The Kid sighed, leaning back in the chair and studying Heyes’ face.  This had to be something to do with Felton, but he couldn’t for the life of him see a connection. Agnes had said that he hadn’t done anything unusual during their lovemaking, but had seemed upset afterwards. ‘Couldn’t wait to leave’ she’d said. ‘Kind of sad’.  A sudden thought occurred to him.  But no, that couldn’t be the reason. Could it?  He leaned forward. “Felton didn’t …I mean …you weren’t …”   

“No!” Heyes cut in, giving the Kid a disgusted look. “Although the subject was raised …as a threat of punishment…” he broke off.  

“For what?”  

Heyes looked away.  “If I didn’t do as I was told.” he muttered.  

The Kid leaned back in the chair. “So, what’s wrong?” he asked. 

Heyes didn’t reply.  

The Kid sighed. “Lom said you have to get things out in the open, not brood on them.  This has to be something to do with Felton, and you should get it off your chest so you can put it behind you.” 

Heyes shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”  

“Well I do. And you need to.” The Kid studied his face.  

Heyes sighed, wearily. “What do I have to do to get you off my back.” he growled. 

 “Nothing you can do.” The Kid shook his head. “You don’t behave like this without good reason, and I’m not budging until you tell me about it. Even if it takes all night.” He folded his arms and resolutely leaned back in the chair.  Lom had told him he had to get Heyes to discuss his problems and he was determined to do so.  

Heyes closed his eyes, letting out a tremulous sigh.  He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew how determined the Kid could be.  He would indeed sit up all night, and make sure Heyes stayed awake, until he told him.  But he couldn’t tell him.  He just couldn’t.  He raked his hands through his hair, swallowing down the lump that had risen in his throat at the thought of it.  On impulse, he threw down the pillow and got up, heading for the door, but the Kid got there before him, locking the door and leaning against it.Their eyes held momentarily, the Kid’s determined, Heyes’ pleading.  

“No more running away.” the Kid told him.  

Slowly, Heyes turned away and sat back down on the bed, drawing his knees up and folding his arms around them.  

The Kid crossed back to the chair and sat down.  

“Why were you so…” he searched for the right word. “… ‘afraid’, of Agnes?”  

Heyes shook his head. “I wasn’t afraid of Agnes …I was …afraid  for her…and myself.”  

The Kid looked puzzled. “But why?”  

Heyes raked his hands nervously through his hair once more.  He really didn’t want to tell him. But he knew the Kid wouldn’t quit until he did.  

Eventually he said “The day …Felton kidnapped me, from outside the saloon …I wasn’t alone …I had …a girl with me.  Josie.”  

The Kid nodded. “I know.  They told me when I came looking for you.”  He had wondered what had happened to her, but hadn’t liked to press Heyes for details.  

Heyes continued as though he hadn’t heard him.  “Felton insisted on taking her along with us, to cover his tracks.” He paused, remembering.  

“And?” the Kid prompted.  

Heyes falteringly recounted the events of that day, telling him how Felton had abused Josie, and how he had tried to stop him.  

“Someone clubbed me.” he said. “My horse reared and threw me off.  That’s when I broke my leg.”  

With a trembling voice, he continued, relating how McKenzie had held him down at gunpoint and forced him to watch while Felton had brutally beaten and raped her, followed by three of the other men, before Felton had made the offer to Heyes himself.  

“When I said …I couldn’t …he …he …put his …gun to her head …and …and shot her.” he said, sounding as though he still couldn’t believe it.  

The Kid looked sick.  How could anyone be that barbaric?  

Heyes shook his head to himself, gazing vacantly at the wall his expression agonised.  “He shouldn’t have killed her …She’d done nothing wrong.  She just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person ….me.” he choked.  

“I’m sorry.” muttered the Kid, unable, for the moment to think of anything else to say.  He had assumed that she had somehow got away from them before they’d left town. It had never occurred to him that they had murdered her.  

Heyes returned to the present, turning his head half away from the Kid.  

“When Agnes …” he paused, shaking his head. “…all I could think of was Josie …that if it wasn’t for me …she’d be here now …” he shook his head. “…and that somehow …if I went with Agnes …it would all happen again…”  

“Don’t be silly.  It wasn’t your fault.” the Kid began, but Heyes carried on speaking, seeming not to have heard him.  

“…I keep going over it in my mind, trying to think of something I could have done to save her.”  He sighed. “Maybe …if I’d refused to go with them in the first place unless they let her go …or if I’d bided my time instead of going for Felton …perhaps I wouldn’t have been hurt and could have done something…”  

“No, Heyes.  There was nothing you could do.  You couldn’t have taken on seven of them, injured or not.  They’d have killed you.”  

“Better me than her.” said Heyes. “She didn’t deserve to die.  She hadn’t done anything …except go with me.”  

The Kid shook his head. “You have to stop blaming yourself.  There was nothing more you could do.  Even if you had been able to do what Felton suggested, he would still have killed her …you know he would …and then you’d have felt even worse. You couldn’t do anything more under the circumstances.”   

Heyes looked unconvinced.  “I just feel like …if I hadn’t been so afraid for myself …” he broke off, his eyes bright with tears. “I’ll never forget …the look in her eyes…” he croaked, shaking his head and covering his face with his hands, letting out a deep sigh, before raking his hands up through his hair once more.  

He really wished the Kid hadn’t forced him to talk about this.  He hadn’t wanted anyone to know, least of all the Kid and Lom, about what he saw as his cowardly actions in allowing an innocent person to be treated so brutally, and be killed, and not lifting a finger to help.  He closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.  Abruptly he got to his feet and headed for the door.  He had to get out, away, get some air, before it suffocated him. 

 “Heyes.” called the Kid, but Heyes disappeared through the door, slamming it shut after him.  

The Kid sighed.  There was no point in going after him.  There was nothing more he could say.  This was something Heyes had to work out for himself.

With a sigh, he undressed and got into bed.  He lay awake, listening for Heyes’ return, but eventually he grew too tired to stay awake any longer, and, despite his concern for Heyes, fell asleep.  

Heyes wandered the streets for some time, turning it all over in his mind, before finally finding himself back outside the hotel.  He leaned against a wooden pillar, gazing out into the night, deep in thought.  

On one hand, he was relieved that he could still function as a man, but he was disturbed by the memories it had woken in him.  Memories he knew would haunt him every time a pretty girl propositioned him.  The thought made him feel nauseous.  He wanted to live a normal life again, to put all this behind him, to love women, laugh, joke.  But he didn’t want to be reminded of Josie every time he got close to a woman, or to feel the way he felt now as he once again pictured her blood spattered body lying on the ground.  He shuddered, trying to push the vision from his mind.  Oh, God, he groaned inwardly.  Sometimes he felt so confused by it all he didn’t know where he was. He wished he could forget it had ever happened, but he knew he never would.  

He glanced up at their window. There was no light.  The Kid must be asleep.  Good.  He couldn’t face talking to him any more tonight.  

Slowly, he climbed the stairs, his feet feeling like lead.  He made a resolution not to let the Kid see his confusion after tonight.  He knew that the Kid couldn’t see why he was still so upset by it all.  It was almost three months since he’d rescued him from Felton, and as far as he was concerned, it was all over and done with.  He didn’t understand the effect it had had on him, was still, the mental anguish that he was still enduring.  He did his best, and maybe he did understand, up to a point.  After all, he’d been a witness to most of what Felton had subjected him to.  But he couldn’t really understand unless he’d been through it himself.  No-one could.  Even Heyes himself didn’t.    Sometimes he felt he was drowning under the weight of it all, but tonight would be the last time he would show it, he vowed.  

The Kid was asleep, snoring softly, and didn’t hear Heyes enter.   

Quietly, he undressed and climbed into bed.  He lay staring into the darkness, his mind once again replaying the events of that day to him. He closed his eyes, tightly, trying to blot out the visions, but the image of Josie’s blood spattered remains pushed itself into his mind, time and time again.  

Heyes shook his head, unaware of the tears that had forced their way through his lashes to trickle down onto the pillow.  

It was almost dawn before he drifted into an exhausted sleep that the Kid had difficulty rousing him from three hours later.  

“Heyes.” He shook him for the fourth time, receiving only a grunt in response from under the blanket.  

“Heyes, wake up.” The Kid tried again.  

Heyes woke enough to croak. “Whassatime?  

“After eight.”  

Heyes groaned, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Go away …let me sleep.” he muttered.  

The Kid grinned.  He must have got to bed really late to be this tired.  He decided to give it one last try.  

“Come on Heyes, wake up.” he said, shaking him once more.  

“Go away.” Heyes’ voice came muffled through the blanket.  

“Don’t you want any breakfast?” asked the Kid.  

A weary “Mmm.” was Heyes’ only response.  

With a smile, the Kid left the room, Heyes already fast asleep.  It was unusual for him, the Kid mused as he crossed the street to eat breakfast alone.  Heyes usually slept like a cat, alert to any noise or disturbance.  But this morning, the Kid doubted even an earthquake would rouse him.  

He left him for another three hours before going back to wake him.

Heyes rolled onto his back, rubbing his face with his hands and yawning tiredly.  

“What time did you get to bed last night?” the Kid asked.  

“Don’t know.” replied Heyes. “Late.  But I didn’t sleep much.” 

The Kid nodded. “You O.K. now?”  

Heyes sighed, irritated by the question, as though the Kid thought that talking about Josie’s death out loud had exorcised the demons and wiped it all away.   

“Anything else you want to talk about?” asked the Kid, mistaking his silence as a prelude to some other problem still on his mind.  

“No.” Heyes snapped angrily. “God, don’t you ever quit?  Just drop it, will you?  There’s nothing I want to talk about.  I didn’t want to talk last night either, but you had to keep pushing, didn’t you, and no, I’m not O.K, but I’m going to have to learn to live with it, and I’m not going to do that if you keep bringing it up.” He glared angrily at the Kid who looked shocked by his sudden outburst. 

“I’m sorry.” he sighed. “I just want to try and put it behind me.”  

“I’m only trying to help.” the Kid sounded hurt.  

“Don’t!” Heyes cut in, raising his hand to cut him off. “Don’t make me feel guilty.  I can’t handle it right now.”  

“I’m sorry.”  

They both sat in silence for several moments. 

“No. I’m sorry.” Heyes said presently.  “I know you’re trying to help, and I’m grateful.  It just …all gets too much sometimes, you know?”  

The Kid nodded. “Sure.”  He smiled reassuringly. “I understand.” although Heyes wasn’t sure that he really did.  

Heyes managed a watery smile in return.  “Hey, listen. ” he said, changing the subject. “Do you mind if we don’t stick around this town?” he asked.  

The Kid shrugged. “I don’t mind.”  

“Good.  I won some money last night, enough to tide us over for a while anyway.  I just want to get away.  I don’t feel …comfortable …just yet …around people…” He shrugged. “I need some space.”  

“It’s fine by me.” said the Kid.  

Back to index

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Two days later, Lom arrived. After checking into the hotel, he went to see the Sheriff who explained what had happened.

Lom couldn’t believe his ears. Heyes trying to kill the Kid? It didn’t seem possible. Unless he’d gone completely crazy. After what he’d been through these past months, Lom had to concede the possibility.

He went straight over to the doctor’s office to visit the Kid, before returning to see Heyes, who was so lost in thought he didn’t even hear them come in.

Lom stood, momentarily, looking at him. He was sitting on the bunk, his knees drawn up under his chin, his arms folded around them, gazing blankly out of the window. He looked terrible. He hadn’t shaved in three days and his eyes were heavy from worry and lack of sleep.

"Hey." said Lom, but Heyes didn’t appear to hear him.

"Hey, Hello." Lom called again. He couldn’t call him by his real name, and he didn’t expect him to answer to Joshua Smith in his present state.

Heyes jumped, turning tortured eyes in the direction of the voice.

"Lom!" He scrambled off the bunk and hurried to the bars. "Oh, Lom," he choked "thank God you’re here."

Lom nodded to the Sheriff. "It’s O.K. Let me in with him. I’d like to speak to him alone."

The Sheriff shrugged, and opened the door, locking it after Lom and then departing.

"What the hell happened, Heyes?" Lom spat the words as soon as the Sheriff had left.

"How is he, Lom?" asked Heyes, ignoring the question. "They won’t tell me anything."

"He’s still alive. Just." Lom growled. "What the hell happened?" he repeated, looking as though he wanted to shake him. "The Sheriff said you tried to kill him. Is that true?"

Heyes shook his head. "I went after Felton. The Kid tried to stop me. He just got in the way. I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have hurt him on purpose."

"Felton? But…" Lom was confused. The Sheriff hadn’t mentioned a third party. But the look in Heyes’ eyes said he was speaking the truth. Or believed he was. He looked at the wild look in Heyes eyes, wondering if it was just distress about what had happened to the Kid, or if he’d lost his mind.

"He was in the saloon." Heyes continued. "The Kid tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t listen. I just had to go after him." he added, his voice full of self disgust.

Lom sighed. If he was telling the truth, then that guy Felton was a jinx as far as Heyes was concerned. But was it the truth? The only person who could answer that was the Kid, and it was possible he wouldn’t live to tell it. Then Heyes would be hung, guilty or not.

"How is he, Lom?" Heyes pleaded again, his eyes boring into Lom’s.

"He’s lucky to be alive." Lom told him. "The bullet didn’t miss his heart by much. He’s holding on, but he’s lost a lot of blood and he’s running a fever. I don’t know, Heyes… It could go either way."

Heyes sat down heavily, his face ashen. Oh, God, what had he done? He gazed out of the window, his expression agonised.

Lom studied his face. He wasn’t sure if Heyes was telling the truth, or merely what he wanted to believe had happened.

The Kid had told him he believed Heyes might kill Felton if he ever saw him again, but the Sheriff had said that no third party had been involved. Maybe Heyes had lost his mind and somehow mistaken the Kid for Felton. Lom could scarcely believe it, but, with the absence of any other evidence… His thoughts returned to the Kid, fighting a fever, with a gaping hole in his chest, delirious and in pain. If Heyes could see him now, see what he’d done… Lom got up and called the Sheriff as a thought occurred to him. If Heyes had lost his mind, maybe, if he could see the Kid, see the state he was in, it would bring him back to his senses. It would be a punishment to him, far worse than any law could inflict on him. Lom was also aware of what the shock could do to him if he’d done this while not in his right mind, but it was a chance they would have to take to try and find out the truth. He couldn’t wait around in the hope that the Kid would be able to explain what had happened. He might not make it, and Lom didn’t want Heyes hung unless he was sure of his guilt. Not even then, but it would be out of his hands.

He whispered briefly to the Sheriff who nodded and unlocked the door, having agreed to let Lom escort Heyes to the doctor’s office and back.

"Come with me." Lom ordered, taking Heyes’ arm and hauling him off the bunk.

"What …? Where...?"

"Wait." The Sheriff stopped them at the cell door and, producing a pair of handcuffs took Heyes’ arm and snapped it around his wrist, before taking his other arm and pulling it behind his back intending to secure his hands behind him.

"There’s no need for that." said Lom, as Heyes took an involuntary step away from the Sheriff, but the Sheriff shook his head. "I aint taking no chances." he said "Either he wears these or he aint going no place. Sorry." he added with a shrug.

Lom nodded, knowing that he would do the same in his position.

The Sheriff secured the handcuffs and Lom took his arm and led him out.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Heyes.

"Wait and see." Lom said flatly, without even looking at him.

They arrived at the doctor’s office and Lom pushed him through the door.

"See for yourself what you did." Lom told him, leading the way to a room at the back where the doctor was looking after the Kid.

Heyes just stood and stared in shocked disbelief. After a few moments of watching him moaning with pain and muttering unintelligible words, while the doctor bathed his sweat soaked face, Heyes turned away, but Lom grabbed him and forced him to look again.

"See what you did, with your obsessive quest for revenge." he hissed in his ear. "Are you satisfied?" he questioned angrily. "Or do you still want it?"

Heyes nodded slowly, his gaze riveted on the Kid. "More than ever." he croaked.

"What?" Lom couldn’t believe his ears. "Even after this?" he waved a hand towards the Kid.

Heyes shook his head. "Because of this."

Lom gave a groan of frustration. "I don’t believe this." he ground out the words. "He could very well die because of your stupid pride, and …" He grunted in disgust. "Oh, I’ve had it with you." he snapped. "Come on." He grabbed Heyes’ arm and hauled him out of the doctors office and back towards the Sheriff’s, Heyes practically having to run to keep up with Lom’s determined stride. Keeping a tight grip on his arm, he dragged him up the steps to the Sheriff’s office and propelled him forcefully through the cell door.

The Sheriff removed the handcuffs from Heyes’ wrists and hurriedly departed, sensing the atmosphere between them.

As soon as the Sheriff had left, Lom rounded angrily on Heyes.

"I’d like to knock some sense into that thick head of yours." he shouted at him. "The Kid’s right. If you kill Felton, it’s the end for you, and probably him too. I thought you were smarter than this, Heyes, I really did!" He shook his head in exasperation. "You’ve both worked so hard to make a go of things. Is it worth throwing it all away over some two-bit punk? I don’t think so, and the Kid doesn’t either. But you? You just have to make a point, don’t you? To save face." he said cynically. "The Kid’s risked his life to save you, not once, but twice, and how do you repay him? By damn near killing him, that’s how." He sighed heavily. "I’m very, very, angry about this, Heyes." Lom wagged his finger in Heyes’ face. "And if I were the Kid, I’d wash my hands of you." He turned away and paced about the cell, hands on hips, shaking his head in annoyance, while Heyes sat motionless on the bunk, head bowed, his expression unreadable.

"If I were him, I’d press charges against you and leave you to rot in here, as a punishment, until you see sense." he continued, his tone venomous. "If he lives that is." he added. "If he doesn’t …you’ll be hung, and Felton will get away scot free. If he was ever here at all." he added doubtfully. "That’ll be two lives, wasted, and all because of your stupid quest for revenge." He stopped pacing and turned to face him. "When will…" he broke off when he saw Heyes, his face buried in his hands, weeping silently, his shoulders heaving. Lom’s words were an echo of his own thoughts, and right now he just couldn’t handle any more criticism. He hated himself enough already. He couldn’t handle hearing the same thoughts echoed by Lom, and probably the whole world.

"It’s a bit late for remorse isn’t it?" Lom said contemptuously.

Heyes’ only response was a choked grunt, as the sobs he’d tried to keep hidden from Lom finally escaped him.

Lom sighed and leaned back against the wall of the cell, his arms folded. He had no intention of comforting him. As far as he was concerned, Heyes had brought all of this on himself, and he would have to suffer the consequences, whatever they might be.

Heyes sat for some time, great sobs wracking his body. Lom remained where he was, waiting for him to collect himself, feeling sorry for him in spite of himself.

"You …don’t …understand…" Heyes managed finally, his words muffled through his hands. "No-one understands."

Lom frowned, going over to sit beside him on the bunk.

"There’s nothing to understand, Heyes. You were wrong to do this, and whatever your reasons, they’re not good enough."

Heyes shook his head, removing his hands and wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. He leaned an elbow on his knee, holding his head in his hand, the other periodically wiping tears off his face.

"You didn’t have to …go through what … they put me through." he choked. "You don’t know how it felt …still feels."

"I know you had a rough time, Heyes, but I thought you’d got all this out of your system."

Heyes shook his head. "I thought I had …until I saw him …in the saloon …and then it all came back …and I couldn’t think of anything …except making him pay for what he did …has done …to me, and to …" he broke off, lifting his head to look at Lom, and Lom could see in his eyes that, whether his words were the truth or not, Heyes genuinely believed them.

"He had no reason to do the things he did…" Heyes croaked. "I was already hurt …there wasn’t much hope of my getting away. All he had to do was take me in for the reward." He shook his head, his gaze sliding off Lom and out of the window as his thoughts turned to Josie. Presently, he drew in a trembling breath, his voice shaking with emotion as he continued. "He enjoyed every minute of pain …and humiliation… he inflicted on me, the sadistic bastard …If I hadn’t already broken my leg, he’d probably have done it himself …or something worse…" he trailed off, a tortured look in his eyes as he remembered the threats Felton had made to him. "He doesn’t deserve to live." he muttered. "He’s more evil than any criminal I’ve ever met."

"And you’ve made it your personal crusade to get rid of him?" said Lom flatly.

"Unless someone else beats me to it."

Lom studied Heyes face as he gazed past Lom out of the window. Tears still slid down his cheeks to drip unchecked onto his lap. He looked genuinely upset about what had happened, but even so, the fire of retribution still burned deep in his eyes, and Lom knew that if he and Felton should ever cross paths again, it would be the same thing all over again.

"Oh, Heyes." sighed Lom, shaking his head. "You always said revenge was for fools. Can’t you just let it go?

A stifled sob escaped Heyes as he remembered the Kid saying those very words on that morning. He bowed his head, shaking it no.

Lom tried to put himself in Heyes’ position. He knew that killing someone, anyone, was against his basic beliefs. To be driven so badly to do what was so fundamentally against his principles must be sheer hell, especially when innocent people, friends too, got hurt in the process. He also knew that if the Kid died, Heyes wouldn’t be able to live with his guilt, and would more than likely end up taking his own life. He sighed. Either way, Heyes couldn’t win, unless he could let this obsession go, and that looked virtually impossible. God, what a mess.

"I’m sorry I yelled at you." he said to Heyes now.

"I’m sorry …that the Kid got hurt …I didn’t want for this to happen …God, if he dies …I’ll never forgive myself…" he broke off, burying his face in his hands, overcome once more.

"Come on, Heyes, lie down and try and get some rest. I’ll keep tabs on the Kid, and I’ll let you know if there’s any change."

Heyes nodded, lying down, and Lom threw the blanket over him.

Back outside in the Sheriff’s office, Lom asked him to keep an eye on him.

"I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth about this being an accident. He’s really upset about it and I’m worried what he might do. Mr. Jones is his closest friend. I’ll be over at the hotel. If there’s any problems, send for me."

The Sheriff nodded. "O.K."

Lom left and went back to the hotel. He took a bath and ate supper before paying a visit to the doctor’s office to check on the Kid. There was no change. All the doctor could tell him was that he was holding his own. Lom left and went to the saloon for a drink, chewing the situation over in his mind, before retiring early, tired after his long journey from Porterville.

The next morning, he ate a leisurely breakfast and then went over to the doctor’s office. The doctor’s assistant, a plump middle aged woman with kind eyes, was looking after the Kid, the doctor having gone out on his rounds. She informed him that the fever was beginning to subside, but that he was very weak and still unconscious.

"Will he make it?" asked Lom.

"Difficult to say. He lost a lot of blood, and the wound was so very close to his heart. Perhaps, if he’s strong."

"Oh, he’s strong." said Lom.

"Then let’s hope so." smiled the woman.

It was almost lunch time when Lom went to the Sheriff’s office.

"Hi, Joe." He smiled at the Sheriff. "How’s it going?"

"Oh, O.K." the Sheriff looked up from his paperwork.

"How’s Joshua?"

"Quiet."

"Has he eaten today?"

"No. I took him some breakfast, but he aint touched it. Nor any of the other meals I’ve left him."

Lom frowned. "Is that some soup on the stove?" he asked.

The Sheriff nodded.

"Can I?" asked Lom.

"Help yourself."

Lom took a bowl and spooned some soup into it. Then he poured two mugs of coffee and turned back to the Sheriff. "Can you let me in?"

"Sure." The Sheriff led the way, unlocking the door for Lom to enter and locking it after him, before departing.

Heyes was lying on the bunk, one arm folded under his head, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Heyes?" Lom called, but Heyes didn’t answer.

Lom put down the bowl and cups and walked over to him. "Heyes?" He touched his shoulder.

Heyes returned from his thoughts and shifted his gaze to Lom’s.

"Hi." Lom smiled. "No change." he added in answer to the unspoken question in Heyes’ eyes. "The Sheriff tells me you haven’t eaten. I brought you some soup."

Heyes shook his head.

"You haven’t eaten for days, Heyes. You can’t go on like this."

"I’m not hungry." muttered Heyes.

"I know." said Lom sympathetically "But you need to eat. Will you try some?"

Heyes shook his head.

"Please, Heyes. You’ll make yourself ill."

"I can’t" croaked Heyes.

Lom sighed. It was hopeless. "At least have some coffee then?"

Heyes shook his head again.

Lom gave up. He picked up his own cup and took a sip of the coffee, peering worriedly at Heyes over the rim of the cup.

"What are we gonna do with you?" he muttered. Heyes didn’t reply.

Lom sat with him for an hour, but it was hopeless trying to talk to him, so he left and went back to the hotel.

He popped back later that evening, to find Heyes still lying on the bunk, dozing now, but otherwise, nothing had changed since lunch time.

The next day, when Lom went across to visit the Kid, the doctor greeted him with a smile.

"Hello Mr. Trevors. I have good news. Mr. Jones has regained consciousness this morning."

"Really? Thank God. Is he going to be alright?"

"Yes, but it’s going to take a while. He’s very weak and he’s going to need plenty of rest. But he’s out of danger now."

"May I see him?"

"For a few minutes." The doctor led the way into the back room.

They’d raised the Kid up a little since his last visit, and he smiled tiredly up from amongst his pillows.

"Hi, Lom." he whispered, raising a hand in a feeble wave. "When did you get here?"

"Hi." Lom took the hand and shook it gently. "A couple of days ago." he told him. "Glad you’re back with us. You had us worried there for a while."

The Kid gave a tired smile. "I’m O.K." he said softly.

"Are you hurting much?" asked Lom.

The Kid’s eyelids drooped. "Not much." he muttered, before drifting off to sleep again.

Lom left and went straight across to the Sheriff’s office. He was relieved that the Kid had come round, because Heyes was rapidly going downhill. He was so consumed with guilt for what had happened he’d just given up on himself completely. Nothing Lom had said had brought him out of it, but, pray God, this would.

He went inside and asked the Sheriff to let him in.

Heyes was sitting on the bunk, his knees drawn up under his chin. He looked round when he heard the Sheriff jangling the keys.

Lom smiled. Heyes didn’t. His eyes, reminding Lom of a frightened deer, followed him across the room.

"Good news." Lom told him.

A flicker of interest appeared in Heyes’ eyes.

"He’s gonna be O.K." Lom beamed at him.

Heyes just stared at him, dumfounded.

"Did you hear me?" Lom placed his hands on Heyes’ shoulders and shook him gently. "The Kid’s come round. The doc says he’s gonna make it."

Heyes closed his eyes, all the tension leaving his body in a deep sigh of relief.

Lom took a step backwards as Heyes uncurled himself from the bunk, looking as though he couldn’t believe it.

"A-Are you sure?" he asked, getting to his feet, feeling light headed.

Lom nodded. "I’m sure."

"Thank God." croaked Heyes, raising a hand to his head as the room started to spin about him.

"Heyes?" Lom called, as Heyes’ legs buckled underneath him and he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Lom caught him before he hit the ground, calling for Joe to give him a hand.

The Sheriff helped him get Heyes back on the bunk, and Lom covered him with the blanket.

When he came round, Lom insisted he have some food and a drink. "You’ll be out of here soon. You want to go under your own steam don’t you?"

Heyes nodded, taking the bowl of soup that Lom offered. It was hard to eat after five days with no food. He had virtually no appetite left. But he forced it down, and the chunk of bread that Lom handed him.

"Better now?" Lom asked as he handed Heyes a mug of coffee.

"A bit." said Heyes. "I’m just so relieved."

"I know." Lom patted his shoulder. "No more than I am, believe me."

Heyes went to sleep after the meal. He had barely slept since the shooting and was physically exhausted.

Lom asked Joe if he would let Heyes out of jail now.

"If Mr. Jones can confirm it was an accident, yes." said the Sheriff.

"I’ll see how he is tomorrow, and if he’s up to talking, I’ll come over to fetch you to speak to him. O.K.?"

"Sure." replied the Sheriff.

continues

Back to index

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

The next morning, Lom went over to see how the kid was. He was awake and cheerful, but still pale and very weak.

"How’re you doin’?" asked Lom.

The Kid smiled. "I’m O.K."

Lom nodded. "You just take your time and get well."

The Kid nodded.

"Do you remember what happened?" asked Lom.

The Kid nodded, a frown crossing his face. "Pretty much."

Lom nodded.

"Where’s Heyes?" the Kid asked, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.

"He’s in jail."

"But …why?"

"Because of what happened. There were no witnesses, so the Sheriff had to take him in on suspicion of attempted murder." said Lom, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to influence whatever the Kid might say.

"Attempted …murder?" The Kid tried to laugh, but grimaced as pain flowed through him. "It was an accident."

Lom gave a mental sigh of relief. He’d had to hear him say that of his own volition.

"Thank God. Do you think you could tell the Sheriff what happened? Then he can let Heyes out of jail."

"Sure. How long have I been here?"

"Five days."

"Five days?" The Kid looked confused.

Lom nodded.

"Has Heyes been in jail all that time?"

"Yeah."

The Kid grinned, tiredly. It only took a few minutes for him to become exhausted.

"I bet he’s been climbing the walls." he muttered.

If Heyes had been aware of his surroundings that would have been true, Lom acknowledged. He hated being shut in anywhere. As it was, he’d practically been climbing the walls with worry.

"You know Heyes." Lom smiled, not wanting to upset him with the details. "I’ll bring the Sheriff over, later, when you’ve had a rest."

The Kid nodded, drifting off to sleep again.



Lom went to fetch the Sheriff at three o’clock, and they went together to the doctor’s office.

"How’s Joshua?" Lom asked him as they walked, almost forgetting to use his alias.

"Not long woken up." replied the Sheriff.

"He was exhausted." acknowledged Lom.

They stepped up onto the boardwalk and entered the doctor’s office. Lom introduced the Sheriff to the Kid, who shook hands with him.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Jones." said the Sheriff. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a horse trampled on me."

"I’ll bet." smiled the Sheriff.

"Can you tell the Sheriff what happened on the day you were shot, Thaddeus, in your own words." said Lom.

The Kid nodded, understanding, from Lom’s phrasing that he didn’t want him to talk about how they knew Felton or what had prompted Heyes to go after him. He told the Sheriff about Felton appearing in the saloon, hoping that Lom had already laid down some kind of story to fit the facts. He told of how he’d had to drag Joshua out to prevent him from going for him there and then, and then went on to describe the events of the following morning, of how he’d almost convinced him to put down his gun when Felton had gone for his own and Joshua had aimed the gun at him, purely in a gesture of self defence.

"It was an accident. I tried to grab the gun. He couldn’t do anything about it." he told him. "It was probably me grabbing for it that caused it to go off."

The Sheriff nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I guess that clears him. I’m glad. I have to admit to liking Mr. Smith. I would have hated to see him go to the gallows." He turned to look at Lom, a puzzled look on his face.

"Mr. Smith seems like a fairly affable guy. What happened to make him want to attack this guy Felton so badly?"

Lom and the kid exchanged glances. The Kid looked anxious, hoping that he hadn’t said anything in his testimony that Lom couldn’t explain away. Lom walked around the bed, giving the Kid an imperceptible wink as he did so. "It’s a long story…." he said now, stalling for time as he tried to finalise a story he’d been working on in his mind ever since they’d walked in here to talk to the Kid. "They grew up in the same town," he began "went to the same school, but they never got on. They’ve been at loggerheads for years one way or another." He paused momentarily as he composed the next part of his story. "This latest set-to all started because of a girl, who Felton believed Joshua had stolen from him. He hadn’t, but Felton didn’t believe him. He went all out for revenge. He accused Joshua of all kinds of things, and stirred up no end of trouble for him for several months. Joshua played him at his own game, by exposing him in some dishonest dealings, for which he did a short spell in jail. After he got out, he lay in wait for Joshua, one night, with some friends, and they attacked him and beat him to within an inch of his life. It took months for him to recover from it." Lom’s sorrowful look wasn’t all acting as the similarities in his story made him think of the months Heyes had spent at his cabin trying to deal with what Felton had done to him. "He hadn’t seen him since that day." He continued presently. "I guess, when he saw him again, he just snapped." He looked at the Sheriff now, hoping he would believe his story and not ask too many questions, while the Kid fought to keep the smirk of amusement off his face at Lom’s over-zealous imagination.

The Sheriff nodded, appearing to accept Lom’s story.

"What happened to Felton?" the Kid asked, frowning.

The Sheriff shrugged. "He must have beat if after you were shot. There wasn’t another soul around when we got there. Didn’t want to get himself caught up in it I suppose." He sighed. "Well, I’ll go and arrange for Mr. Smith’s release." He stood up. "Nice to meet you." he said again to the Kid.

"Likewise." replied the Kid.

"I’ll catch up with you." Lom called after him.

"O.K." The Sheriff left and Lom turned to the Kid with a smile.

"Thanks Kid." he winked at him. "See you later, O.K?"

The Kid nodded, yawning.

Lom left and went back to the Sheriff’s office, where he was just letting Heyes out of jail.

"Hi." Lom smiled as they came into the main office.

"Hi." Heyes replied, giving him a weak smile.

"You can stay at the hotel with me." Lom told him. "They re-let your room."

"Thanks, Lom, but I’ll have to owe you for the cost. I’ll have the doctor’s bill to settle." Heyes said gruffly.

"That’s O.K." smiled Lom.

"Thanks." Heyes picked up his things and followed Lom outside. He paused on the boardwalk, turning his face up toward the afternoon sun and taking a deep breath of the clean, fresh air. After five days cooped up in that jail cell, it was like being reborn, and Heyes made a silent vow that he would never let himself be sent to jail again.

Lom smiled, reading his thoughts. "It is a nice day." he remarked.

Heyes nodded, following Lom to the hotel and upstairs to the room he was to share with him, which was on the floor above where he and the Kid had been staying. They entered, and Heyes sat down on the bed with a sigh.

"I picked yours and the Kid’s stuff up from the desk clerk." Lom told him.

"Thanks." Heyes muttered.

"Are you O.K?" Lom asked on impulse. If anything, he looked in a worse state than the Kid. Being pale didn’t look so bad on the Kid’s fair haired complexion, but on Heyes’ swarthy features it made him look like death warmed up. His dark eyes stood out against his pasty complexion, his growth of beard making him almost unrecognisable.

Heyes nodded.

"Listen, why don’t you go get a bath and a shave." Lom told him, handing him some money.

"Thanks, Lom." Heyes gratefully took the money and quietly left the room, returning some time later looking a little more like his old self, having bathed and shaved and had his clothes laundered.

They went to the doctor’s office together that evening. The Kid was dozing when they arrived, so they sat down quietly by the bed.

Heyes stared at the Kid while Lom studied Heyes.

The Kid was very pale, Heyes noted, and from the amount of bandaging to his chest, the wound must have been very serious. And to think he had done it to him. God, it didn’t bear thinking about. He closed his eyes, consumed with guilt, opening them again as he felt a hand on his arm. Lom was shaking his head to him.

"Forget it, Heyes. It’s over. Done. He’s O.K. That’s all that matters."

Heyes sighed heavily. "Yeah."

The Kid seemed to become aware of their voices and woke to see them both sitting by the bed.

"Hi." He smiled tiredly at Lom. Then, turning to Heyes. "It’s good to see you."

Heyes nodded but didn’t reply. They looked at each other for a moment, a thousand words passing between their eyes. Heyes looked away first. "Kid, I’m so sorry. I…"

"No." the Kid cut him off.

Startled, Heyes looked up to find him shaking his head. There was no need for apologies between them. "Forget it." he said quietly.

Heyes gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Are you O.K?" the Kid asked suddenly. "You look like hell."

Heyes was both touched and embarrassed by the question. He gave a vague nod in reply.

The Kid raised an eyebrow. "Jail get to you?" he joked.

Heyes looked away, his eyes bright with unshed tears. If only that were all.

"Yeah." he mumbled. Then, looking back at the Kid with a forced smile. "I’m O.K."

The Kid nodded, doubtfully, but refrained from further comment.

They chatted for a while until the Kid’s eyelids began to droop, tired once more.

"Well, we’d better let you get some sleep." said Lom, getting to his feet. "We’ll see you tomorrow. O.K?"

The Kid nodded.

Heyes got up too, forcing a smile. "Look after yourself."

"You too." the Kid replied tiredly. He raised his hand in a small wave, as Lom and Heyes left the room, drifting off to sleep almost before they’d closed the door.

"Well, maybe, now, you’ll let this be an end to it." Lom said to Heyes as they walked back towards the hotel. "You’ve been very lucky, both of you. Don’t push it."

When Heyes didn’t answer, Lom stole a sideways glance at him. He was looking straight ahead and Lom thought there was an unusual set to his face. But maybe it was just his imagination. Heyes had been so changeable these last few months, maybe that was how he usually looked and he had forgotten.

"Heyes?" he prompted.

"Yeah, sure." Heyes replied, without looking at him, his voice flat.

Lom gave him a puzzled look as Heyes opened the door for him to enter the hotel, but Heyes’ expression gave away nothing.




The next day, Heyes seemed in remarkably good spirits.

As they all chatted at the Kid’s bedside, Lom kept glancing across at him, not sure what to make of it. After seeing him sobbing his heart out in the jail a couple of days ago, Lom had doubted that he would ever be able to put what had happened behind him, yet now, he looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Lom was suspicious, but the Kid didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about his behaviour.

"Are you sure you’re O.K?" Lom asked him that evening as they changed before going out for supper.

"I’m fine." Heyes replied non-commitally, without looking at him. "Why?"

Lom shrugged. "It’s just that …after everything you said the other day …you seem so …cheerful."

Heyes glanced at Lom through the mirror on the dresser. "I was upset about the Kid the other day …I over-reacted."

"You didn’t over-react when you went after Felton. You knew exactly what you were doing."

"Maybe, maybe not." muttered Heyes, shrugging into his jacket. "Like you said, it’s over. Let’s just try and forget it, huh?"

Lom gazed at Heyes with a frown, sure now that something wasn’t quite right. On the surface, Heyes appeared to be his old witty, amusing, happy-go-lucky self, but Lom had felt all along that it was an act, and now he was sure.

"What are you up to, Heyes?" he asked suspiciously.

"Up to?" Heyes raised an eyebrow as he put on his hat.

"Don’t kid me, Heyes. I’ve known you too long. You’re up to something."

"Like what?"

Lom shrugged. "I don’t know, but you are, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar it’s no good."

Heyes smiled. A sweet, disarming smile, intended to distract Lom from his train of thought, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes and it filled Lom with trepidation.

"Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving." said Heyes.

Lom gave up. He wasn’t going to get anything out of him. He would just have to keep a close eye on him.

He followed Heyes out of the room and they crossed the street to the restaurant for their supper. Lom was both surprised, and pleased, that Heyes ate everything in sight. Since the shooting, his appetite had been virtually non-existent. Perhaps he really was making an effort to put it all behind him.

"Hungry tonight, aren’t you?"

Heyes glanced at him. "Mmm. Must be all the meals I missed lately."

They finished their meal and strolled across the street to the saloon for a drink, intending to visit the Kid afterwards.

They’d been there about twenty minutes or so, when, in the middle of a conversation, Heyes suddenly put down his glass and bent over, clutching his stomach.

"What’s the matter?" Lom touched his arm.

Heyes straightened up, still clutching his stomach. "I guess …I ate too much… Indigestion I think…"

"You did eat rather a lot." agreed Lom as Heyes bent again, with a gasp of pain.

"I think …I’ll go back to …the hotel, and lie down …for a while." Heyes said hoarsely. "I feel a bit sick."

"I’ll come with you." Lom began.

"No." Heyes raised a hand to cut him off. "You stay and finish your drink… No need to spoil the rest of the evening on my account... I’ll be O.K."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes …don’t worry." Heyes pushed away his half full glass. "Tell the Kid I’ll see him tomorrow."

"O.K." Lom watched him, worriedly, as he left the saloon, still stooping slightly.

Lom stayed and had a few more drinks, chatting to some of the locals, before strolling across to the doctor’s office to visit the Kid. He was getting stronger now, but wouldn’t be on his feet for several days yet, so Lom had insisted that they all go back to his place while the Kid convalesced. It was a two day journey, and Lom had arranged to hire a wagon and the Kid would have a bed made up in the back of it as he wouldn’t be able to ride for a while.

It was quite late when Lom arrived back at the hotel, having got chatting to the doctor about psychology, a subject that Lom had developed an interest in over the years, and lost track of time.

He turned the lamp up slightly and turned to check on Heyes who appeared to be asleep in the other bed. He leaned over him. He looked a little pale, he thought, but seemed alright otherwise.

"Heyes?" he whispered, but Heyes did not stir.

Lom turned away and undressed before turning out the lamp and climbing into bed.

In his bed, Heyes gave an inward sigh of relief, glad that Lom hadn’t suspected he was awake. He couldn’t handle talking to him right now.




"You O.K?" Lom asked Heyes the next morning.

"Fine." Heyes replied curtly, although Lom thought he still looked pale.

"The indigestion wear off?"

"Eventually." said Heyes, busying himself shaving. "My eyes must have been bigger than my belly. I had really bad stomach cramps. Did you visit the Kid?" he asked, changing the subject.

Lom nodded. "Yeah, he should be fit to travel in a day or so."

"Good. I can’t wait to see the back of this town."

They dressed and went across the street for some breakfast.

"Just coffee for me, Lom. I still feel a bit iffy." said Heyes.

"O.K." Lom ordered coffee for Heyes and bacon, eggs, beans and tomatoes for himself.

Lom chatted to Heyes about the preparations for moving the Kid to Porterville to continue his recuperation, but Heyes was preoccupied and didn’t seem to be listening.

Lom’s breakfast arrived and he began to eat it hungrily. Heyes stared vacantly at Lom’s plate, lost in his thoughts. As he watched Lom cutting up the blood red tomatoes on his breakfast, Heyes began to feel decidedly queasy.

"You O.K, Heyes?" Lom asked as he glanced up to see the colour drain from Heyes’ face.

Heyes shook his head. "Excuse me." he choked, getting up and hurrying out back, where he promptly threw up.

That’s judgement on you, he told himself, as nausea welled up in him a second time. He bent over to throw up again, before leaning against the wall of the restaurant, beads of perspiration standing out on his forehead. His legs felt like lead, and for a moment he thought he would pass out, but he took several deep breaths, forcing his mind onto other things, and presently, the nausea subsided enough for him to go back inside, where, thankfully, Lom had finished eating and was now on his second cup of coffee.

"What’s wrong?" Lom asked, scanning his pale face worriedly.

"I was sick. Must’ve been watching you scoff all that greasy food." he quipped.

Lom smiled, taking another sip of coffee. "O.K. now?"

Heyes nodded. "I’ll be alright." he said, an odd expression crossing his face.

"Well, I’m done. Shall we go see the Kid?" said Lom.

Heyes was lost in thought and didn’t hear the question.

"Heyes?" Lom prompted.

"Mmm?" Heyes blinked and looked at him.

"Shall we go see the Kid?" Lom repeated.

"Sure."

They got up and strolled up the street towards the doctor’s office.

"You still look peaky to me." Lom told him. "I’ll get the doc to check you over."

"No. I’m O.K. Really."

But Lom insisted, and the doctor examined him thoroughly.

He could find nothing specific wrong with him except that he was a little underweight and was suffering from an irritation to the lining of the stomach, which he suggested was probably caused either by stress or too much rich food and drink.

"You need plenty of rest, no worry and not too much rich food." he told him. "Then you’ll be fine."

"Thanks doc." said Heyes, getting dressed. Fat chance of no worry, he thought to himself, unaware of the pensive frown on his face. He glanced up to see Lom studying him intently. Heyes smiled at him. "See, I told you it was just indigestion."

Lom merely raised an eyebrow and followed him in to see the Kid.

"The doc says I should be O.K. to travel tomorrow." the Kid told them. He looked much better now that his colour had returned.

They chatted for a while and then Lom said he was going to make arrangements for their departure the next day.

He left Heyes and the Kid talking while he headed off to organise the wagon for the next day. As he passed the Sheriff’s office, he came out and called him over.

Lom crossed the street. "Hi Joe, how’s it going?"

"Come in. There’s something I want to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Lom followed him inside.

"We found a body this morning, in an alley at the back of the bank."

Lom looked puzzled. "So?"

"So, the guy’s name is Felton. John Felton."

"Felton?" Lom went cold. "But…"

"Wasn’t the guy your friend Mr. Smith had a beef with called Felton?"

"Well …yes …" Lom admitted. "But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the same man."

"It’s a bit too much of a coincidence." said the Sheriff. "Can you account for Mr. Smith’s movements in the last twenty four hours? After what happened, he has to be the prime suspect."

"Why, yes. He’s been with me the whole time…" Lom broke off, suddenly remembering Heyes’ departure from the saloon the previous night. But that had been genuine, hadn’t it? Hadn’t he been asleep in bed when he’d returned to the hotel? And hadn’t he been sick that very morning? He’d certainly looked ill, and the doctor had said he was suffering from a severe irritation to the stomach lining, probably caused by stress. Stress! Lom had allied it to the stress of what he’d been through, but there was nothing more stressful than killing somebody.

"How was he killed?" asked Lom.

"Throat cut." said the Sheriff.

Lom allowed himself a mental sigh of relief. It couldn’t have been Heyes. If he did kill anyone, it wouldn’t be like that. He would use a gun. No, it must have been someone else. From what Heyes had told him about Felton, Lom was sure there must be a lot of people who would like to see him dead. Yet still the nagging doubt persisted. But what did he do? If he told the Sheriff the truth, Heyes would be hauled back in jail, possibly hung, maybe wrongly. But, if he lied, he’d be going against his oath as a Sheriff.

"He’s been with me all the time since he got out of jail." he said finally. "We were in the saloon last night, and we’ve just been across to the restaurant for breakfast. He’s over at the doc’s right now, visiting Thaddeus."

The Sheriff nodded, seemingly satisfied. If he checked, the Sheriff would probably find out that Heyes had left the saloon early, but he appeared to take Lom’s word as the truth.

"Well." the Sheriff nodded "there’s no witnesses and no murder weapon, so, if you say he’s been with you all the time since he got out of here, it looks like that’s that. There’s nothing else to go on."

Lom nodded, thoughtfully.

"How’s Mr. Jones?" the Sheriff enquired now.

"Mmm? Oh, fine. He should be O.K. to travel tomorrow, so we’re going back to my place for a while, while he recuperates.

The Sheriff nodded. "You’ve known them a long time?"

"Yeah." Lom nodded. "We’ve been friends a good many years."

"What do they do?"

Lom shot him a quick glance. He was asking a lot of questions. Was he just making conversation, or did he suspect them of something else? The descriptions on their wanted posters weren’t totally accurate, but having met both of them, he would recognise them if he checked them.

"They travel a fair bit." Lom replied. "They do all kinds of work. Ranching, mining, anything that comes their way. I used to work with them before I became a Sheriff." he added, fighting to keep the smile off his face as he thought of what the Sheriff would say if he knew just what sort of ‘work’ they’d been in."

"Oh." the Sheriff nodded.

"Well." Lom stood up before the Sheriff had time to enquire any further into their history. "I must be going. I have a lot to see to." He extended his hand. "Thanks for everything."

The Sheriff shook his hand. "That’s O.K. See you around, huh?"

"Sure."

Lom left and went over to the undertaker’s office. He had to have a look at this guy Felton.

The undertaker led him through to the back room and pointed out the coffin.

Lom looked at the face of the man in it. Thin faced, with harsh eyebrows and a cruel twist to his thin mouth, Lom knew instinctively that this was the right man, the one who had reduced Heyes to a physical and emotional wreck. Heyes was right. He looked evil, even in death. Lom was glad he couldn’t see his eyes. He could imagine how cold they would have been. With a shudder, he turned away and, after thanking the undertaker, left. After arranging for their departure the next morning, he went back to the hotel to wait for Heyes’ return.

When he came in, Lom studied his face, but his expression was unreadable.

"Heyes." Lom began.

"Yeah?" replied Heyes, opening one of the dresser drawers and delving inside.

"I’ve just been to the Sheriff’s office." Lom thought he detected a slight stiffening of Heyes’ shoulders, but his tone was normal when he said "Yeah?"

"Felton’s been murdered." Lom watched him carefully.

Heyes put down the things he’d been sorting out and turned to face him.

"Good." he said flatly.

Lom studied his face, but it was as though he’d drawn a mask over himself.

"He asked me if I could account for all of your movements over the past twenty four hours."

"What did you tell him?" Heyes asked, his gaze levelled on Lom’s face. He appeared calm, but, behind his back, Lom couldn’t see his hands clutching the edge of the open drawer tightly.

"That you were with me."

Heyes nodded slowly, breathing an inward sigh of relief that Lom hadn’t told the Sheriff the truth.

They stared at each other for several moments, each trying to read the other’s thoughts.

"Did you do it, Heyes?" Lom had to know.

"You think so, don’t you?" Heyes retaliated, his expression hard.

"I don’t know what to think." said Lom. "You did leave the saloon early last night."

"I was sick." said Heyes.

Lom nodded. "So you said."

"Aw, come on, Lom. The doc confirmed it. And it was you who forced me to see him. I didn’t want to if you recall. If I’d wanted that as an alibi, I would have been keen to see him, wouldn’t I?"

That much was true, Lom had to admit.

"Well, whoever did it is off the hook." he told him. "In the absence of witnesses, or a murder weapon, there’s no case."

A flicker of something that Lom couldn’t read passed through Heyes’ eyes, but he merely nodded.

Both were silent for several moments. Then, suddenly, Heyes said "Whatever I said wouldn’t make any difference. You already have your opinion." He looked disdainfully at Lom who blushed. Was he wrong to doubt him? Heyes hadn’t admitted to killing Felton, but then he hadn’t actually denied it either.

Heyes was right though. Even if he’d said he hadn’t done it, there would always be a niggling doubt in the back of his mind. There was nothing to be done except put it behind them. Felton was dead. They need not worry any more about what would happen if they ever met again.

Lom sighed. "I’m a Sheriff. I have to consider all possibilities." He looked intently at Heyes, hoping he would understand. "And after everything that’s happened, you had to be the prime suspect."

Even if Heyes had admitted to killing him, Lom doubted that he would have done anything about it. Felton had deserved it. Lom had seen enough to know that, and he couldn’t send his friend to the gallows for that. Not that Heyes could know that. He had drilled it into them often enough, since trying for the amnesty, that he would turn them in, personally, if they were ever found guilty of any crime charged against them. It wasn’t surprising then that Heyes was unwilling to admit anything to him.

Heyes nodded. "I know."

Lom wondered if Heyes was angry with him for doubting him. If he was, he couldn’t see it in his face, but, in his shoes, Lom knew he would have felt resentful if he were accused of murder by one of his closest friends, especially if it wasn’t true.

But, with the killer’s identity a mystery, there was no-one for Felton’s gang to seek revenge on. If Heyes had done it, which Lom was reluctant to believe, he’d got it all sewn up. He’d got retribution and got away scot free. But then that had always been the secret of Heyes’ success …good planning.

Lom sighed. "Well, I still have a few things to do. I’ll see you in a while." he said, getting up and heading towards the door.

"O.K." Heyes watched him go.

As the door closed, Heyes’ shoulders seemed to sag and he sank down onto the bed, closing his eyes. He had known that he would be the prime suspect if anything happened to Felton, but it still hurt to be doubted, especially by one of his closest friends. 


After finishing the arrangements for their journey the following day, Lom went over to the doctor’s office to see the Kid.

"Hi." The Kid smiled up at him, looking a little puzzled to see him back so soon.

"Hi." Lom pulled up a chair and sat down by the bed.

"I’ve fixed up everything for us to leave tomorrow." he told the Kid.

"Fine." The Kid studied his face. "Something wrong, Lom?" he asked, sensing his ambiguous mood.

Lom sighed. "I don’t know. Yes and no."

"Why?"

Lom looked at the Kid. Should he tell him? Was it fair to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind too?

"Felton’s been killed." he said finally, carefully watching the Kid’s reaction.

"Felton?" the Kid looked incredulous. "How?"

Lom sighed. It didn’t seem to have occurred to the Kid at all, that Heyes might be responsible. But perhaps he thought it had happened while Heyes was in jail and so couldn’t be responsible.

"I don’t know if I should tell you this." he said, ignoring the Kid’s question.

"What?"

"When I left here earlier, the Sheriff stopped me to tell me that Felton had been murdered. He asked me if I could account for Heyes’ movements in the past twenty four hours."

"Yeah?" The Kid still hadn’t put two and two together.

"So, I told the Sheriff he’d been with me all night. But he wasn’t was he? I told you last night he’d gone back to the hotel with stomach cramps."

"You think he was faking?" the Kid’s eyes widened in amazement.

Lom looked at him. Maybe he was wrong to doubt Heyes. The Kid had seen him try to kill Felton before and yet he seemed genuinely surprised at the idea that it might have been him that had killed him.

"Well, I didn’t at the time, and this morning he threw up just watching me eat my breakfast. And the doc did say he’d got a severe irritation to the lining of his stomach. But, the fact remains that he was out of my sight for two and a half hours last night and now this morning Felton is dead."

The Kid looked thoughtful. "Did you ask Heyes about it?" he asked presently.

Lom nodded. "I didn’t get a straight answer. What he did say was that it didn’t make any difference what answer he gave because the doubt was already in my mind.

The Kid nodded thoughtfully.

"And now I’ve put it in yours." said Lom.

"How was he killed?"

Throat was cut."

"I can’t imagine Heyes doing something like that."

"I know. But Heyes is clever. He’d know we’d be put off by that, and that if there was no weapon, and no witnesses, he’d be in the clear."

"True." acknowledged the Kid.

"Lord knows, I’ve drilled it into his head enough about him and you going to the gallows if he were caught killing him." said Lom, briefly remembering how he’d reduced him to tears over it a few days earlier. "Perhaps I drove him to devise this elaborate plan to kill him, and now he won’t admit it in case I turn him in."

"Would you, if he did?"

"I don’t know." Lom sighed. "I don’t think so. Felton had it coming."

"I know it. But you’re a lawman. It’s your duty."

"Yeah. But sometimes, friendship comes above duty. And after what Felton did to him…" he shook his head. "…Who are we to judge?"

"I’m glad to hear you say that, Lom. If Heyes did do it, he had good reason, and he wouldn’t have done it lightly. The day he shot me… he didn’t really want to kill him… I was that close to stopping him." he held his finger and thumb fractionally apart. "But it was like he was …"

"Driven by some demon?" Lom finished for him. "I know."

They sat for a long moment, thinking their own thoughts.

Presently, Lom said. "Do you think he did it?"

The Kid looked thoughtful. "I don’t know. I thought, after shooting me …that he’d got it all out of his system… But …it’s possible I guess. Maybe if I ask him, I’ll be able to see in his face if the answer he gives is the truth or not."

"Does it change anything? If he did do it?"

The Kid shook his head. "No… I’d feel sorry if he did do it… Sorry for him, ‘cos I know it’s something he never wanted to have to do, not after seeing our folks murdered. And I’d feel…disappointed …that he’d risk both our lives, just for revenge …but after what Felton did …I couldn’t blame him."

Lom nodded. "Well, I’d better get back. See you in the morning."

"O.K." 

 continues

Back to index

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

That evening, Lom and Heyes went to the saloon for a drink. Felton wasn’t mentioned, and Heyes seemed in good spirits, although he was a little offhand with Lom, presumably still upset that he had doubted him.

The following morning, they checked out of the hotel and went to pick up the Kid from the doctor’s office. Lom, Heyes and the doctor carried him out to the wagon, where a bed had been made up for him.

"O.K?" Heyes asked, as they settled him in.

"Fine." The Kid tried to study Heyes’ face without him noticing. He couldn’t read anything specific in his expression, but he too, like Lom, had the feeling that his appearance of normality was just a façade.




It took them almost four days to get back to Porterville, where the Kid occupied the bed that Heyes had been in the last time they’d been here.

"About turn, huh?" the Kid grinned at Heyes as they settled him into bed.

Heyes gave him a sharp glance and didn’t reply. The Kid looked at Lom who raised an eyebrow.

It was four more days before the Kid was up on his feet, although he was still weak and would need several weeks recuperation before he would be fit enough to travel. Heyes had been strangely aloof and distant, spending as little time in their company as he could possibly get away with, disappearing on walks whenever the opportunity arose, or shutting himself away in his room. Lom wondered if it was because he was still upset with him for doubting him over Felton’s murder.

A couple of days later, Lom, who had been going to work part time in order to help out with looking after the Kid, went back full time, leaving Heyes to take care of him. His mood had improved marginally over the last day or so, although he still seemed preoccupied.

After a late breakfast, the Kid persuaded Heyes to join him out on the porch for a game of cards.

They played a game, which Heyes, unsurprisingly, won, and the Kid dealt a second, eyeing Heyes, as he tossed the cards onto the table, wondering whether or not to bring up the subject of Felton’s murder. He had been waiting for an opportunity to question him about it since they’d left Denver. He picked up his cards and leaned back in the chair, giving the cards a perfunctory glance before shifting his gaze to Heyes.

"Heyes." he began.

"Mmm?" Heyes studied his cards, not looking at him.

"Lom told me …that Felton was murdered." the Kid said, studying his face.

"Yeah." Heyes continued to stare at his cards.

The Kid selected a card and threw it down. Heyes’ gaze remained fixed on his cards.

"Did you do it, Heyes?" the Kid looked at him now.

Heyes sighed. After a time he said. "You think so, don’t you?" not looking at him.

"What I think is irrelevant. I’m asking you if you did it."

Heyes looked at the Kid now, his face set.

"If I said no, would you believe me?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

The Kid stared back at him. "If it was the truth." he said flatly.

Heyes turned his attention back to his cards. Several moments later he said "Presumably, Lom filled you in on the details?"

The Kid nodded. "Yeah."

There was another silence. Eventually Heyes said "Then there’s no point in my saying anything. The doubt is already in your mind, as it is in his. If I say no, you’re never going to believe me one hundred percent." He looked at the Kid now. "Felton’s dead. That’s all there is to know."

The Kid shook his head. "I want to know." he told him. "What reason would I have not to believe you?" he asked, his gaze boring into Heyes’. Heyes wasn’t in the habit of lying to him, and if he did, the Kid could usually tell.

"What is it?" he asked, when Heyes said nothing. "Don’t you trust me?" he added, looking hurt at the idea. "You’re my friend. My partner. I just want to know the truth."

Heyes opened his mouth and then closed it again, his façade of self control beginning to crumble under the Kid’s scrutinising gaze. He would trust the Kid with his life, had done, but he couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know. He couldn’t tell him the truth, but he couldn’t lie either. He looked across at the Kid with sad, tortured eyes, and, in that instant, the Kid knew. Heyes had killed him. The guilt was written deep in his eyes. He may have succeeded in hiding it temporarily, but he couldn’t hide it forever, and certainly not from the Kid.

Although Lom had suspected him, the Kid hadn’t really believed Heyes had done it until this moment. To begin with, slitting somebody’s throat wasn’t Heyes’ style, and, on the day the Kid had tried to stop him shooting Felton, he had seen the doubt and uncertainty about doing it in his eyes and had believed that the shock of shooting him instead had finally extinguished his desire for revenge.

As the reality of it hit him, the Kid’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shocked surprise, a brief glimmer of sorrow lighting in their depths, mixed with disappointment, at the knowledge that, as well as his own life, Heyes had been prepared to risk the Kid’s life too, merely to satisfy his quest for revenge.

Heyes saw his expression and was overcome with shame.

Killing Felton had been an obsession, and, although it had sated his quest for retribution, the act had filled him with revulsion and disgust, feelings which he had been struggling to come to terms with on top of his remorse at shooting the Kid, the humiliation he still felt over his treatment at Felton’s hands, and his guilt about Josie’s death.

Now, he mistakenly thought he saw those feelings of revulsion and disgust in the Kid’s eyes, as he’d imagined he’d seen them in Lom’s, and suddenly he couldn’t handle it any more. He couldn’t bear them knowing what he’d done, couldn’t live through all the years that stretched ahead in his mind, knowing he was a murderer, having them look at him with ‘that’ look. They were both as against murder as he was, had been. They would never be able to understand why he’d had to do it. He didn’t even understand it himself. He wished to God he hadn’t done it, but at the same time was glad he had, and he loathed himself for it.

"Heyes?" the Kid questioned, as an odd look came into Heyes’ eyes.

Heyes stood up, shaking his head, his cards falling to the floor as he turned and dashed blindly away, knocking over his chair as he did so.

"Heyes?" the Kid called, getting to his feet and hurrying after him as best he could.

Heyes dashed into the bedroom and grabbed his gun. He would end it; here, right now. It was only fair after all. A life for a life, no, lives. He was not only responsible for Felton’s death, but Josie’s too. By rights he should hang for it, and for their other unlawful deeds over the years. Well, he would save everyone the trouble and do the job himself, and end his own misery in the process.

The gun was unloaded. He searched around for some ammunition, finding some in the dresser drawer.

The Kid arrived in the doorway just as Heyes began loading bullets into the gun.

"Heyes… what are you doing?"

Heyes turned his startled gaze in the Kid’s direction, not really seeing him, his mind locked in it’s mental anguish.

"Heyes?" The Kid advanced towards him, a sudden knot of fear in his stomach at the desolate look in his partner’s eyes.

"Get away..." Heyes sidestepped him, frantically trying to get the gun loaded, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t get the bullets into the chamber.

Realisation of what Heyes was planning to do suddenly hit the Kid.

"No, Heyes, for God’s sake…" The Kid lunged forward and grabbed his arm, trying to wrestle the gun out of his hand.

"Get away" Heyes’ voice was agonised.

"No. You can’t do this. I won’t let you."

The Kid was breathless, and faint, from the exertion, but he hung on, forcing Heyes back against the wall and pinning him there with his weight while he banged his hand repeatedly against the wall to try and loosen his grip on the gun.

"No…" Heyes muttered, turning his head from side to side, seeming almost in a trance.

The rough wood of the cabin walls cut into Heyes’ skin, pain numbing his hand until, eventually, his grip loosened and the gun fell to the floor.

The Kid kicked it out of reach before letting go of Heyes, who, deprived of the means by which to escape from his mental anguish, sank to his knees with a howl of despair, slumping over the bed and burying his face in one arm, sobbing uncontrollably, his other arm hanging limply down, his fingers trailing on the floor, his hand cut and bleeding where the Kid had smashed it against the wall.

The Kid knelt down by him and pulled him up, hugging him to him.

"Ssh, it’s O.K." he told him, his own heart pounding, wildly, in his chest, shocked and frightened by Heyes’ behaviour.

"It’s O.K." he said again. "You’ve no need to feel bad about it. The bastard deserved it. You did society a favour, Heyes."

Heyes was beyond speech, beyond even coherent thought, as he sobbed, hysterically, in the Kid’s arms, oblivious to everything, overcome by the pain and despair, the shame and the guilt of the last few months.

He was no light weight in the Kid’s arms in his present condition, and he was breathless and in pain, but Heyes’ need was greater than his.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, cradling him in his arms, but, eventually, his sobs quietened, his body going limp in the Kid’s arms as he slipped into an exhausted sleep.

The Kid was too weak to lift him, so he lay him gently on the floor and covered him with a blanket before scrambling to his feet and picking up Heyes’ gun. He then went around the cabin collecting every gun and rifle Lom possessed along with every knife and razor and carried them all outside, dumping them on the ground and kicking them out of sight under the porch. Then he went across to the corral. He couldn’t lift a saddle, so he led one of the horses over to the wagon and managed to hook it up before struggling up onto it and riding into town to find Lom.

"Kid! What’s up?" Lom looked surprised when the Kid staggered, white faced, into his office a short time later. He was exhausted, after his struggle with Heyes, and pretty close to collapse.

Lom hurried from behind his desk and the Kid gratefully took his arm as he helped him to a chair.

"You …have to come …Lom." he said breathlessly. "It’s …Heyes …He tried to... kill himself."

"Wha…?" At first Lom thought he must be joking, but the look in the Kid’s eyes told him it was the truth. "Oh my God. Is he hurt?"

"No …but …I’m afraid …please, Lom …I can’t handle him alone."

"Of course." Lom left word with his deputy before helping the Kid back onto the wagon and riding back to his cabin at full pelt.

The Kid explained what had happened as they rode.

"He did kill Felton, Lom …He tried to deny it at first …but he couldn’t hide it. I saw it …in his eyes …and he knew I’d seen it …He just got up and ran. By the time I …caught up with him …he was loading up his gun …and he had this …crazy look in his eyes …I knew what he was going to do..."

He told Lom how they’d fought for the gun and how he’d gathered up every other weapon he could find and thrown them out.

"He was hysterical." he told Lom, his voice hoarse from pain and emotion. "I stayed with him until he cried himself into exhaustion. Then I came for you."

They arrived back at Lom’s to find Heyes still asleep on the floor where the Kid had left him. Lom picked him up and put him to bed, bathing and bandaging his injured hand before helping the Kid to bed in the other room. He was still weak after the shooting and his struggle with Heyes had exhausted him. Lom checked the wound in his chest to make sure it hadn’t opened up again and then re-dressed it before straightening up and studying his pale face. "Looks like I’ve got too invalids on my hands now." he said with a wry smile.

The Kid raised a small smile. "I’ll be O.K. when I’ve rested up a bit." he said. "He was like a madman. I’ve never seen him like that …he scared the hell out of me."

"You rest a while. I’ll watch Heyes." said Lom.

"Lom." the Kid called, as he turned to leave.

"Yeah?"

The Kid studied his face for a moment, not sure whether to proceed with what he’d been about to say. He knew Heyes wouldn’t like it, but after what had happened today he didn’t think he had a choice.

"I …er …think there’s something you should know." he told him, frowning.

"Oh?" Lom took a step forward and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Heyes won’t like it if he finds out I told you this …but …after what’s happened today …I think you ought to know."

"Know what?" Lom looked puzzled.

"He didn’t tell us everything that happened with Felton."

Lom’s eyebrows shot up. "There’s more?" he said incredulously.

"Yeah." the Kid nodded. "Doesn’t seem possible does it?"

Lom shook his head.

"It explains a lot about why Heyes was so …crazy …afterwards …and probably has more than a little to do with what’s happened today."

"Go on." said Lom.

The Kid told Lom about Josie, relating the details of hers and Heyes’ abduction exactly as Heyes had told them to him. When he’d finished, Lom looked as sick as the Kid had felt when Heyes had told him.

"He didn’t intend for us to know." said the Kid. "He feels really bad about it. He thinks he’s responsible for her death, that he didn’t do enough to save her. He thinks he acted like a coward and that we’d think the same if we knew."

"But, that’s crazy. What could he have done against seven men?"

"I know. I tried to get it through to him that it wasn’t his fault, but …" the Kid shrugged. "he still blames himself."

"When did he tell you all this?" asked Lom.

"Not long after we left here." the Kid replied. "But, he didn’t tell me voluntarily…something happened…" He looked up at Lom, concern in his eyes, "I’d rather not say what … it’s his business. But, he was upset …and, because you said I shouldn’t let him brood on stuff, I’m afraid I badgered him until he told me." He sighed. "As I said, he really didn’t want anyone to know. He was bottling all his guilt and anger up. He tore me off a strip the next day for pushing him into telling me. Please don’t let on you know… I just though it might be …useful."

Lom sighed, a frown on his face. He understood more fully now the pressures that had brought Heyes to this, but he had no idea what to do about it.

He raked a hand worriedly through his hair. "After all that …then shooting you …and killing Felton…" He shook his head. "It’s a hell of a lot to cope with." He gave a deep sigh and shook his head once more. "Maybe too much."

"But he was doing so well…"

"Maybe. But a person can only take so much. He was already struggling to come to terms with all that Felton did to him, and, it seems, to handle his guilt about Josie’s death, when, suddenly, Felton turns up to reawaken all the memories he’s been trying to forget. So he tries to kill him - despite it being against everything he believes in - and ends up shooting you instead, and then has to cope with all the guilt of that, the fear you would die, and with being cooped up in jail. He was half out of his mind then, and that’s probably why he went through with killing Felton. Then he had to try and cope with his guilt about that, on top of everything else, along with the fear that he might be discovered and hung, while at the same time trying to keep it all a secret and keep up a normal appearance." Lom shook his head. "It was only a matter of time before it all got too much for him to handle." He sighed. "I guess realising you knew was the last straw and he just snapped."

The Kid nodded. "Yeah."

Lom shook his head. "We’ll just have to wait, and hope he can pull himself out of this."

"I guess so." the Kid muttered, his expression sombre.

"You try and get some rest." Lom told him. "You’re exhausted. I’ll keep an eye on Heyes."

"O.K." sighed the Kid, as Lom left the room.

Lom went to fix himself some lunch as the Kid had dragged him away from his office before he’d had time to eat and he was ravenous. He popped his head around the door to see if the Kid wanted any, but he was already fast asleep.

He ate in the kitchen, chewing over what the Kid had told him as he did so. After he’d eaten he cleared away and then went to sit on the front porch, enjoying the tranquillity while they were both asleep. After all the trials and tribulations of the last couple of weeks, the peacefulness seemed extra sweet.

Some time later, his attention was drawn by sounds from inside the cabin. He got up and opened the door, to see Heyes, searching feverishly through the kitchen drawers.

"Heyes?" he called, entering the room and closing the door.

Heyes jumped, slamming shut the drawer he was looking in and turning to lean against it, looking like a cornered rabbit.

"What are you doing?" Lom asked with a frown.

Heyes didn’t reply but just stood, staring at him, breathing heavily. As Lom approached him, Heyes sidled around the table, away from him, and made a dash for the door, but Lom leapt after him, grabbing his arm. "Oh no you don’t." he told him, realising that Heyes had still not recovered himself.

Heyes struggled frantically to get free of Lom’s grasp.

"No …let go…" he gasped.

"No." Lom wrestled him back into the bedroom. "Stop it, Heyes." he shouted, pushing him down onto the bed. "You’re not going anywhere, so you might as well save your energy."

Heyes continued to struggle for several moments before finally realising he could not escape, whereupon he stopped and lay still, turning his face to the side, refusing to look at Lom.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Lom, still holding his shoulders down on the bed. "Life’s too precious to waste, especially over someone like Felton. Do you think he’d have cared if he’d killed you? Heyes?" he prompted when Heyes still refused to acknowledge him. "Do you?"

Lom let out a deep sigh and let go of Heyes, straightening up and looking down at him, hands on hips. Heyes rolled over away from him, curling up in a foetal position and wrapping his arms around his head.

With a sigh, Lom sat down on a chair by the window, not knowing what to do for the best. It was pointless trying to talk to him. At the moment he was beyond understanding anything, except the mental agonies he was suffering.

He’d barely seated himself, when Heyes scrambled off the bed and made a bolt for the door. He was almost out of the cabin when Lom caught up with him, either seeking to escape or, hoping to find a weapon with which to end his mental torture.

Normally, Heyes would have been no match for Lom, who was a good four inches taller than him and had a strong, thick set, build as against Heyes’ lean frame, but desperation had increased Heyes’ strength tenfold and, after struggling for several moments to restrain him, Lom had no alternative but to knock him out cold.



He carried him back into the bedroom, depositing him on the bed and sitting down on a chair by the window, watching him worriedly, wondering how he was going to prevent him from running off again.

He left the room and returned a few moments later with a length of rope.

As he entered the room, Heyes was just coming to his senses. Before Lom knew what was happening, Heyes was halfway out the door. He managed to grab him and dragged him back inside.

"No, Heyes." he shouted at him.

"Let go…" Heyes hissed at him, as Lom forced him down onto the bed.

"No. It’s for your own good, Heyes. You don’t know what you’re doing."

"Let me go." Heyes continued struggling, his anguished gaze showing no recognition of him.

Lom reached over with one hand for the length of rope which he’d dropped on the bed when Heyes had tried to run out.

"No, Heyes." he snapped, struggling to tie it around Heyes’ wrist, being careful not to hurt his injured hand if he could avoid it. "You’re not going anywhere until you’ve calmed down." He managed to fasten the rope around his wrist, and then, by holding onto it and keeping his knee on Heyes’ chest, he was able to grab Heyes’ other arm and tie his wrists together.

"No…" Heyes struggled frantically, his mood suddenly changing from angry desperation, to fear. "No …please…" He shook his head, his tone pleading. "…don’t…"

Lom shook his head. "I can’t take the risk of you running out on me." he told him, securing the rope and then, pulling his arms above his head, fastened the remainder to the metal bedhead effectively immobilising him.

"There." Lom stood up, breathing heavily. "Now, you can stay there until you calm down." He told him, raking his dishevelled hair back into place.

Heyes shook his head, struggling to free himself. "Let me go…" he begged, his expression a mixture of anguish and terror.

Lom guessed that tying him up had plunged his confused mind back to the time of his capture by Felton when they’d kept him tied up and beaten him. He obviously believed he was in for more of the same and was obviously terrified. But what choice did he have? If he released him, Heyes would probably run off again, in search of a weapon with which to kill himself, and, most probably, anyone who tried to stop him. He had to leave him there, regardless of his pleas, until he calmed down and could see reason. If he ever did. Lom was seriously beginning to wonder if he hadn’t lost his mind completely and would never recover. What would they do then? He shuddered, forcing the thought from his mind. He would be alright. He was strong. He just needed some time.

"Just relax, and calm down." he told him soothingly. "The sooner you calm down, the sooner you’ll be released."

Heyes closed his eyes tightly, still wrestling with the rope around his wrists. "Let me go…"

"No." Lom was firm.

"Please…" begged Heyes on a choked sob.

Unable to stand any more, Lom got up and left the room, closing the door after him and leaning against it, swallowing down the lump that had come to his own throat. After a few moments, he pushed away and looked around the door of the Kid’s room to see if he was awake, which he was. He opened the door further and went inside.

"What’s wrong?" the Kid asked, noting Lom’s sombre expression and over-bright eyes.

Lom shrugged, momentarily too choked to speak. Presently, he sat down and explained the afternoon’s events. The Kid listened with a worried frown.

"I just had to leave the room." Lom told him. "If I’d stayed any longer I’d have let him go, and then he’d have been off looking for a gun or a knife." He raked a weary hand through his hair.

"I just don’t know what to say or do to help him. I’m not even sure he can be helped. He may have lost his mind completely."

"Don’t say that." the Kid cut in. "I won’t believe that. Not Heyes."

"I don’t want to think about it either, but it’s a fact we may have to face."

The Kid looked away, his eyes bright with tears. Things must be serious for Lom to be at a loss for a solution. Lom always knew what to do. Finally, he turned back to face him, his face set. "No." he said firmly. "Just give him time."




At sunset, Lom fixed a meal and then took a tray in to the Kid, who was asleep again. His face looked a more healthy colour now, Lom noted with relief. When he’d arrived at his office that morning, he’d been almost grey.

Lom shook him awake and offered him the tray. "Hungry?"

"Mmm. Ravenous." The Kid maneuvered himself into a sitting position and Lom placed the tray across his lap before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked.

"Better." the Kid replied between mouthfuls.

Lom nodded.

"How’s Heyes?"

"Still the same." Lom sighed. "I don’t like it Kid." he told him, shaking his head worriedly.

The Kid didn’t either, but he didn’t say so to Lom. He didn’t want to think about the implications if Heyes didn’t recover.

When the Kid had finished eating, Lom picked up the tray and stood up.

"Stay in bed for the rest of today" he told him. "Don’t take any chances with that wound. I don’t want the two of you out of action."

The Kid shook his head. "I don’t plan to. Don’t worry."

Lom took the tray away and cleared up. He wasn’t sure what to do about Heyes. He hadn’t eaten at all today and Lom was worried about the amount of meals he was missing. Slim at the best of times, he had lost pounds during his ordeal with Felton, which he hadn’t fully gained back. In the days following the Kid’s shooting, he’d been too upset to eat, and had only picked at his food since they’d got back to Porterville, since Killing Felton really, and he’d lost several more pounds that he could ill afford to lose. If he didn’t get some food into him, he would be physically ill, as well as mentally, and that wouldn’t help his recovery any. But what could he do? He couldn’t risk releasing him in his present state, and even if he did, it was doubtful he could get him to have anything. He sighed. The only other alternative was if Lom fed it to him himself.

He decided it was worth a try. It might even help to reassure him that Lom wasn’t his enemy.

He put some food on a plate and, taking a fork, went into Heyes’ room. He appeared to be asleep, but, as Lom closed the door, he jumped, staring at him with wild eyes as he crossed the room.

"How are you doing?" Lom smiled reassuringly.

Heyes ignored the question, his fearful gaze riveted on Lom’s face.

"I brought you something to eat." Lom continued. "You must be hungry by now."

Heyes eyed the plate of food suspiciously as Lom sat down on the bed and picked up a forkful. When he offered it to him, Heyes turned his face away.

"Come on, Heyes. You’ve got to eat." Lom tried again, but Heyes turned his face the other way.

"Please, Heyes." Lom tried several times to get the food into his mouth, but Heyes refused to co-operate, becoming more and more agitated with each attempt, wrestling with the rope securing his wrists as he tried to get away from him.

Exasperated, Lom threw the fork down onto the plate.

"You have to stop feeling guilty about this." he told him sternly. "Do you think Felton would have cared if the situation was reversed and he’d killed you? Huh? No. He wouldn’t have given a damn. He was an evil bastard, and you did everyone a favour by killing him." He sighed. "Don’t let him do this to you, Heyes. If you give up now, he’ll have beaten you. Don’t you see that?" He looked down at Heyes whose face was turned away from him, tucked behind his upper arm. He either couldn’t, or didn’t want to, acknowledge Lom’s words.

With a sigh, Lom got up and left the room, throwing away the food and rinsing the plate as he brooded on the problem. If only he could get some sort of rational response from him.

He looked in on him again a couple of hours later, relieved to find that he had at last fallen asleep. Perhaps, if he could get some rest, his mind might heal itself, Lom prayed.

He left the room and went in to the Kid to find him fast asleep also. With a sigh, he crept out again.

He prowled restlessly about the cabin, thoroughly bored with his own company. He glanced at his watch. It was only nine o’clock. He would have liked to go to the saloon for a couple of hours, to unwind, but he didn’t want to leave Heyes and the Kid alone in the cabin.

He crossed the room and picked up a bottle of scotch and a glass before crossing to flop down in an armchair by the hearth and pouring himself a generous measure. He downed it in two gulps and then poured another, which he sipped more slowly, gazing pensively into the fire, his mind slipping back to the times when they’d all ridden together as outlaws before Lom had gone straight and become a Sheriff. They’d had some good times back then there was no denying. He closed his eyes, his mind wandering on through time. He woke with a start some time later, not aware he’d slept. He looked at his watch. Eleven thirty. He put away the bottle and then took a quick look in on Heyes and the Kid before turning in himself.

continues 

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Chapter 11: Chapter 11

The next morning, Lom ate breakfast and then took some in to Heyes, hoping he could persuade him to have some today.

Heyes was awake, staring blankly at the ceiling.

This morning, when Lom offered a forkful of food to him, Heyes accepted it without protest, his eyes empty, beyond even being embarrassed at being tied up, and fed like a child.

Lom was surprised. He had expected him to refuse it as he had the previous evening. He wasn’t sure however, whether the response was a step forward or back. Had he finally recovered himself? Or had he gone completely out of his mind? He would have to wait a while longer to see. If he had recovered, Lom would have expected him to protest, loudly, at being tied up, yet, when Lom got up to leave, Heyes made no protest, nor any plea for release, but just lay staring up at the ceiling, his eyes bleak.

Lom went to fix some breakfast for the Kid, who came into the room just as he was dishing it up, yawning tiredly.

"I was going to bring this in to you." Lom told him.

"It’s O.K. I feel alright today." The Kid sat down and Lom put the plate of food in front of him.

"How’s Heyes?"

Lom poured them both a cup of coffee and sat down opposite him. "He seems calmer this morning, but I’m not sure what that means, whether he’s come to his senses, or completely lost his mind. I’ll let him up later. We’ll see then."

"You don’t think he’ll try it again?"

Lom shrugged. "I don’t know. I hope not." He paused, thinking. "I was thinking of taking him off somewhere quiet and trying to talk it through with him. If he’s capable that is. He never said a word when I gave him his breakfast. It could be that he’s retreated into himself again, like when you first brought him here after you rescued him from Felton. If he has, there’s no telling when, or even if, he’ll come out of it."

He looked at the Kid now. "Don’t take this wrong, but I think you should make yourself scarce for a while. You were the one who prompted all this. If he sees you, it might start him off again."

The Kid thought for a moment, sipping his coffee. "O.K." he nodded. "I’ll be in my room."

"Thanks." Lom slapped him on the shoulder.

The Kid finished his breakfast and disappeared back into the bedroom to get dressed, while Lom went in to see Heyes.

"Hi." he smiled down at him. Heyes didn’t reply. Lom studied his face but could read nothing in his expression.

"Are you O.K?" he asked. "Heyes?" he prompted, when Heyes made no response, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"Heyes?" Lom called. "Can you understand me? Heyes?"

Eventually, Heyes gave a vague nod.

Lom eyed him thoughtfully. "Do you know who I am?" he asked presently.

Heyes’ gaze flicked briefly over him before returning to the ceiling. After several moments, he nodded.

"Well?" Lom waited for a response.

"Lom" he said, his voice a whisper, refusing to look at him. Lom wondered if he was angry with him for tying him up.

"Do you know where you are?" he asked now.

After a moment, Heyes nodded again. "Your cabin." he muttered, still refusing to look at him.

Satisfied he was in possession of his faculties, Lom bent to untie his wrists from the bedhead. He then crossed to the dresser and poured a glass of water.

"Here, drink this." he told him, holding out the glass to him.

Heyes eyed it, suspiciously, rubbing his numb wrists, before reaching out to take it, levering himself onto one elbow so he could sip it, while Lom studied him anxiously.

When he’d drunk the water, Lom took the glass from him and then said "Come with me." having decided that a stroll in the morning sunshine might clear his head.

Heyes just stared at him.

"Come on." Lom repeated. "Don’t worry, we’re just going out for a breath of air." He told him, on seeing Heyes’ suspicious expression. He helped him up and took his arm, leading him outside and out towards the meadow. They came out into a clearing, the same one Heyes had come to before, to think, after his rescue from Felton. It was a pretty spot and Heyes liked it. He slowed to a halt, his gaze taken by the little brook that trickled nearby. Lom stopped and studied him.

"Let’s stop here a while." he suggested, seating himself on the ground.

A moment later, Heyes followed suit.

They hadn’t spoken since leaving the house, and Lom wasn’t sure where to begin.

They sat for several moments, Heyes staring vacantly into the rippling water, while Lom studied him.

Eventually Lom said. "Are you gonna be alright now? I mean, are you over those …crazy thoughts?" eyeing him anxiously. He looked a wreck. His hair was dishevelled, a shadow of stubble covered his jaw and there were dark shadows of fatigue under his eyes. "Do you even know what I’m talking about?" Lom voiced the thought out loud.

"I…" Heyes began, giving a nod and then a shake of his head, followed by a helpless shrug. He had a lot of strange images going around in his head and he wasn’t sure which, if any, were real, or what they all meant. But the one thing he did remember for sure was the Kid’s expression when he’d realised that he’d killed Felton.

"Come on, Heyes. We have to talk about this. You scared the hell out of the Kid, and me too. We want to be sure you won’t try anything like this again."

"Like what?" muttered Heyes, his bleak gaze fixed on the rippling water of the brook.

"Like trying to kill yourself."

"Why? What difference does it make?" asked Heyes, his voice flat, void of emotion.

Lom looked at him wide eyed. "What diff…? Aw, come on, Heyes, we care about you. We don’t want you to feel bad about this."

"About what?"

"Killing Felton."

Heyes looked away, his expression anguished. "Who says I killed him?" he said hoarsely.

Lom shook his head. "Don’t, Heyes. Don’t give me that crap. You didn’t go crazy for nothing."

Heyes said nothing.

"O.K. Don’t admit it if you don’t want to." said Lom. "It doesn’t make any different to us. He’s dead, no-one got hurt, the matter is closed. Now you…"

"What do you mean, no-one got hurt?" Heyes cut in. "I got hurt, the Kid got hurt and…" he broke off abruptly and Lom wondered if he’d been about to mention Josie.

"I didn’t mean hurt in that way." said Lom. "I meant, no-one was involved in a murder trial, so the matter is finished, all neat and tidy, except for a few loose ends."

"Loose ends?"

"You." Lom looked at Heyes, whose head was bowed, his hair fallen forward, obscuring his expression. "What all this has done to you."

Heyes sighed. "Shouldn’t you be at work." He tried to change the subject.

"My deputy can manage."

"All you’ve done lately …is chase around after us …me… I’m sorry." muttered Heyes.

"It’s no problem." said Lom. That wasn’t strictly true. All the time he’d missed from work lately was becoming a problem, but for Heyes and the Kid, he would make time.

They sat for several minutes, Heyes lost in thought, Lom waiting for him to speak, studying the expressions crossing his face.

"Come on, Heyes." he prompted presently. "Talk to me. Tell me what you feel. Clear it all out. Then maybe we can all get back to normal."

"Normal?" Heyes grunted cynically. "I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way again."

"Sure you will."

Heyes shook his head. "I can’t live with all this …guilt. It just …eats away at me …I can’t stand it."

"Because you’re bottling it all up inside." said Lom. "Come on. Get it all off your chest. You’ll feel better."

"Talking about it isn’t going to change what I feel."

"You don’t know that. A problem shared and all that..." said Lom.

"I’m not even sure what I feel any more." said Heyes. "Everything’s all sort of …jumbled up inside me."

"Give it a try." prompted Lom.

Heyes thought for a few moments before giving a deep sigh.

"Have you ever killed anyone, Lom?" he asked presently.

"Not deliberately." Lom replied. Ouch, he shouldn’t have said that. He saw Heyes flinch at the remark also. "That is, I’ve shot people in the line of duty …but …no, none of them died." Oh hell, he was making a right mess of this.

"Then you don’t know how it feels." Heyes muttered.

"No." agreed Lom. "Why don’t you tell me?" he prompted.

He sat for several minutes, watching Heyes’ expressions as he struggled between admitting his guilt or continuing to keep up the pretence of innocence. Eventually, he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"It’s terrible." he muttered, giving up all pretence of innocence. "Much worse than anything I’ve felt before …even what they did to me …and, God knows, that was bad enough." He turned to Lom now. "I didn’t want to kill him …but I had to. Can you understand that? I just had to."

Lom nodded. "Yes, I can." Then, "But, did it give you any satisfaction?"

Heyes sighed heavily, turning away. "Only because I know he’s not out there, someplace, waiting …but, I hate myself for doing it." His voice caught. "I feel …cheap …dirty…" he passed a hand across his eyes. "…like I’ve gone as low as I can go …like …I’ll never be fit to be a decent citizen again…" he broke off, struggling to find the words to express his feelings. "I’m not a religious man …but I feel like …now I’ve …taken a life …in cold blood …He…" he raised his eyes to the sky "…will have disowned me …that there’ll be no place for me …you know …on the other side?" he trailed off, his eyes troubled.

"Oh, Heyes." Lom put a hand on his shoulder. "You’re one of the most decent people I’ve known. Do you think I’d have gone to all this trouble for you if I thought you were no good? You know that if I didn’t believe in you, I’d be the first to turn against you.  O.K, so you may have lived on the wrong side of the law, but circumstance forced you there, and even so, you always played fair. You never double crossed anyone, you never took from anyone who couldn’t afford to lose it, and you always looked after your friends. In my book, that makes you a pretty decent guy. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here now agonising over this, and I wouldn’t be your friend. Like I said, Felton wouldn’t have given a second thought to killing you. It’s over now. You should try and put it behind you, and move on."

"Easier said than done." said Heyes. "O.K, so I’m in the clear. No-one knows who did it, except you two …but, I know, and …I hate myself for it." He shook his head, lifting a hand to cover his eyes, as though trying to erase the memory. After several moments he said. "I would rather have shot him… but then I might have been heard, and caught, and then the Kid could have been dragged into it, even you." He sighed. "So I chose the next best method …one that I knew would be quick, and sure." His face paled at the memory. "It’s a terrible way to kill someone …so gory…" He broke off as memories of the same thing happening to his parents pushed their way into his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to blot them out. Presently, he opened them and said. "Afterwards …I wished to God I hadn’t done it …but, at the same time, I was relieved, glad even, that he was gone …and I hated myself for that too. God…" he raked his hands through his hair. "…I’m so confused." He sighed heavily.

"Did you fake the stomach ache as an excuse to get away from me?" asked Lom "That was when you did it?"

An ironic smile touched the corners of Heyes’ mouth. "I think that was judgement on me. I deliberately over-ate, intending to fake it, but I really did feel ill afterwards, although not quite as much as I made out to you." He paused briefly. "But the next day was genuine." he continued. "I felt lousy, partly because of over-eating, but …mostly because of what I’d done… Watching you eating…" he closed his eyes, remembering how the juicy tomatoes on Lom’s plate had reminded him of Felton’s blood on his hands. He shuddered. "I’ve felt sick ever since …sick with guilt …and shame." He bowed his head, shaking it.

"Don’t be ashamed, Heyes. If it had been me, or the Kid, we’d have probably done the same thing. I know I told you that you were wrong when you tried to kill him the first time, but that was the lawman in me talking. I was worried about you getting caught and going to the gallows and possibly taking the Kid with you. I hoped, if I gave you a real going over, you’d think twice before trying it again."

"You almost succeeded." said Heyes. "You really made me feel bad... that day in the jail"

"I’m sorry I was so hard on you." said Lom. "But I only did it for your own good."

Heyes nodded. "I know." he said quietly.

Presently, Lom said "You’ve handled everything so well until now. What was it that …you know …upset you?"

Heyes sighed. "I saw the look in your eyes …when you found out about Felton." he said hoarsely. "You already suspected I’d done it, even before you asked me."

"I…" began Lom, but Heyes held up his hand to stop him.

"I can’t blame you. Even if I hadn’t been guilty, it did look suspicious. I knew that. But" he shrugged "even though I expected to be suspected if anything happened to him… it still hurt…" he trailed off momentarily, lost in thought, a sad look in his eyes. Then, sighing "I realised I’d have to live with that suspicion for ever. Even if I said I hadn’t killed him and it had been true, you would never quite have believed me, not after everything that had happened. That realisation hit me hard."

Lom bowed his head, knowing Heyes was right.

"I thought I could hide it, bluff it out, so no-one would ever know for sure, but…" he paused "…when the Kid asked me …he saw it in my eyes." He sighed. "When I saw the look in his eyes …shock …horror …disgust… I just couldn’t stand it. Not on top of everything else… I couldn’t bear you both knowing what I’d done… I was so ashamed… I just wanted an end to it, once and for all." he said, his voice breaking. "It’s only fair after all …a life for a life…" He broke off, turning away from Lom, his eyes tortured.

"It didn’t occur to the Kid that you might have done it until I put the idea into his head." Lom told him. "And even then, I don’t think he really believed it. He has a lot of faith in you. More than I did, I’m sorry to say."

Why be sorry? You were right and he was wrong."

I’m still sorry …you know …for doubting you…" said Lom.

"I could have made you believe I was innocent," said Heyes "and the Kid too …if I’d lied. …I’m a good liar …After all, it’s our way of life isn’t it?" he said bitterly. "We even lie about who we are." He sighed. "I didn’t want to lie …not to you two …Our friendship is the only honest thing in my life …I didn’t want to …soil it …with lies …so I said nothing."

Lom nodded. "Well, it makes no difference to us. The Kid wasn’t horrified, just surprised I think. He believed you’d got it all out of your system after you shot him. He wants you to put it behind you, and to carry on trying for the amnesty."

Heyes frowned. "I can’t even think about that right now. I don’t feel fit to qualify for it."

"Come on, Heyes. You’re as fit for it as I am, and I got one didn’t I? And now I shoot people for a living, and get paid for it. Funny ol’ world aint it?" he nudged Heyes and gave him a wry smile, trying to lift his spirits.

A ghost of a smile touched the corners of Heyes mouth, but then his expression became tortured once more.

"But that’s the whole point." he said gruffly. "You don’t have to feel guilty for killing anyone, because you’re representing the law... What I did …was …murder …cold blooded murder…" he broke off, closing his eyes and shaking his head in despair and Lom instantly regretted the joke.

Presently, Heyes gave a deep sigh. "I don’t know how to deal with all of this." he said in a defeated voice. "Or how I’m going to live with it."

"That’ll take some time." said Lom. "But we’re here for you. We’ll help you any way we can.

"Thanks." Heyes gave him a watery smile. "I don’t deserve friends like you."

"Yes you do. Now, come on, talk some more. Let’s have it all, everything that’s bothering you."

Heyes sighed. "I still feel bad about what happened to the Kid."

"That was an accident. He’s forgotten about it already."

"But he could have died. I was so blinded by hatred, I didn’t think about him."

"But he didn’t die." said Lom with a sigh. "Why torture yourself about what could have happened? He didn’t die, and he’s well on the way to recovery, although you knocked him back a bit, struggling with you."

"I’m sorry."

"Don’t be. You didn’t know what you were doing. And again, do you think he’d have gone to so much trouble to help you if he thought you were such an awful person?"

Heyes thought for a moment, remembering all the things he’d done for him. Rescuing him from Felton and then dragging him out of the saloon the night he’d seen him there. Even though Heyes had argued and fought against him, the Kid wouldn’t give up. Then he’d tried to stop him killing Felton and almost got killed himself. Heyes was amazed at the depth of his loyalty.

"I guess not." he said finally.

"Well then." said Lom.

"He always was a lousy judge of character." Heyes made a feeble attempt at a joke.

"Heyes." Lom reproached him.

"Sorry." muttered Heyes. "Seriously, he didn’t do a bad job on my hand. It’s really throbbing this morning. He doesn’t know his own strength."

Lom grinned. "He knew about it afterwards. He had to spend the day in bed recovering."

Heyes smiled in spite of himself. "Is he O.K?"

"He will be, in a few days. Don’t worry about him. He’s fine. He’s more worried about you."

They sat for a moment in silence, before Lom asked. "What about what happened before? With Felton I mean. How do you feel about that, now he’s gone?"

Heyes sighed. "The same. Even now he’s gone …I still haven’t gotten over what he did to me …how it’s left me. I don’t know if I ever will …He hurt me real bad, Lom …and not just physically. I’m only just beginning to realise how much."

"Were you still having nightmares?"

"Occasionally." Heyes nodded. "But, as you said, they were getting less frequent …but, after this …who knows?"

Lom had no answer to that.

They sat in silence for some time. Finally, Lom said. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

Heyes sighed and shook his head.

"So, are you gonna be O.K. now?"

Heyes shrugged. "You’re more qualified to answer that than me." He gave him a brief glance. "You tell me."

Lom studied him momentarily. His spirit had taken as severe a beating as his body these past months, yet he was still hanging in there, albeit by the skin of his teeth at the moment Lom suspected.

"It’ll take a while. But you’ll make it." He told him.

Heyes said nothing, staring vacantly into the little brook, his mind elsewhere.

"Don’t let it get to you, Heyes." Lom told him. "You were ill. Just as if you’d caught a chill, or pneumonia.  The brain is a muscle, just like any other. If you strain it, it stops working for a while until it’s recovered. That’s what happened to you. You just had too many things happen for you to cope with. It’s nothing to be ashamed of."

Heyes didn’t reply, but sat, gazing ahead, deep in thought.

"It’s Felton’s fault." Lom continued. "Nobody else’s. Certainly not yours. You were the innocent victim."

"Not quite ‘innocent’." Heyes said, bowing his head and fiddling with the bandage on his hand. "I know what you’re trying to say Lom," he said presently "but it doesn’t help. Not yet anyway. I guess …it’s something I’m just going to have to work out for myself."

Lom knew Heyes was right. They could tell him from now until Kingdom Come, but it was no good if Heyes didn’t believe it himself. He had to work his way through his feelings until he reached that conclusion on his own.

"Yeah, well, we’re here if you need any help." he told him. "Don’t be afraid to ask."

Heyes nodded slowly. "Thanks."

They fell silent one more. Eventually Lom asked. "Anything else you want to talk about?" wondering if he would talk about Josie. It was the only thing they hadn’t discussed. Indeed, he’d made no mention of it at all, not even in his confused state the previous day.

Heyes shook his head.

"Sure?" Lom prompted.

Heyes nodded.

Lom sighed. What had happened to Josie had scarred his emotions so deeply, he couldn’t bring himself to even think about it, let alone discuss it. She may only have been a prostitute, and, as such, didn’t rate very highly in most men’s list of sympathies, but that wouldn’t make any difference to Heyes. Despite his criminal background, he was, basically, an honest, caring man, and from his point of view, the death of another human being, and a woman too, albeit a prostitute, because of him, would be hard to live with, even without all the additional feelings of guilt he harboured about not having done enough to help her.

"Want to go back then?" Lom asked presently.

Heyes turned his gaze in the direction of the cabin, mentally picturing it’s contours, hidden by the trees. Did he? Going back meant going on. Did he want to? Did he have the strength?

"I guess." he replied finally

Lom got to his feet and Heyes followed suit.

Lom was surprised at how calm Heyes had been during their talk, but then, from what the Kid had told him about the events of the previous day, he had no tears left. He was cried out, empty, a mere shell of the person he was before.

But Lom knew his inner strength better even than Heyes himself. He would make it. It would take time, years even, but he would find himself again, and be a better person because of it all.

Lom smiled at Heyes’ doubtful expression. "O.K?"

Heyes made a half hearted attempt to return the smile. "I guess so."

They walked slowly back through the meadow towards the house. They’d been away for two hours.



The Kid woke some time later and came into the kitchen where Lom and Heyes were sitting talking. His step faltered as he saw Heyes, wondering what his reaction was going to be to seeing him.

"Hi." he said, eyeing him uncertainly.

"Hi." Heyes stared back at him.

"How long have you been back?"

"About an hour." said Lom. "Want a drink?"

The Kid shook his head. "No thanks." He crossed the room to sit opposite Heyes.

"Are you O.K?" he ventured.

Heyes nodded, looking at the floor. "I’m O.K." he said. Then, lifting his eyes to look intently into the Kid’s "Thanks, Kid."

The Kid nodded, not sure what to think. He glanced across at Lom, who nodded reassuringly. "I’m glad." he said, returning Heyes’ gaze.

He didn’t know what Lom had said to Heyes while they’d been away, but whatever it was seemed to have worked. Heyes looked pale, and tired, but his eyes were calmer than they had been for some time.

Heyes looked away first, looking embarrassed.

"Well," Lom interrupted, brightly, sensing Heyes’ mood. "I don’t know about you two, but I could do with some lunch."

The Kid nodded agreement, but Heyes got to his feet, shaking his head. "Not for me. I think I’ll go lie down for a while. I’ve got a bit of a headache." He told them, scurrying into the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

The Kid glanced anxiously at Lom.

"Don’t worry." Lom reassured him. "He just feels a little uncomfortable about yesterday. He’ll be O.K."

continues

Back to index

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Heyes was quiet and withdrawn for several days as he tried to come to terms with everything that had happened, but by the time the Kid was fit to travel a month later, he was beginning to show signs of getting himself together, and they decided it was time to move on and try and find some work.

"Thanks for everything, Lom." said Heyes as he loaded his belongings onto his horse.

"No problem." smiled Lom.

Heyes finished securing his belongings and then turned to face him. "I mean it, Lom." he told him seriously. "I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help."

"Sure you would." Lom dismissed, looked embarrassed. "Just make sure you make it to your amnesty hearing." He grinned, wagging his finger at him.

"We’ll be here." said the Kid, coming out of the cabin and mounting his horse.

"Take care now" said Lom "and don’t get into any trouble."

"Who? Us?" Heyes quipped, as he mounted his horse.

Lom looked at The Kid, who raised his eyes to the sky and gave a resigned shrug.

Lom grinned, watching them as they rode away.




It was four months until their amnesty hearing. One hearing had already taken place, behind closed doors, the previous year, at which time it had been decided that politically, it wasn’t a good time to grant Heyes and Curry an amnesty, and a further waiting period had been imposed, to be reviewed at a date to be advised, when the political climate improved. Lom had been pestering for a date ever since and had finally succeeded in getting a date for their case to be discussed.

However, once again the promise of an amnesty was refused on the grounds that it wasn’t the right time, politically. Nor was the Governor satisfied as to their intentions to remain on the straight and narrow, and insisted that they prove themselves further.

Lom argued that they had proved themselves enough already, that the original trial period had come and gone and they were still sticking to their end of the bargain so it was only fair that the Governor should stick to his.

The Governor promised that in six months time, he would definitely grant them an amnesty provided they didn’t get into any further trouble.

The news was a setback to Heyes and the Kid, the Kid moreso than Heyes, who had always been the more doubtful of the two as to government’s intention to honour it’s word, and Lom had a hard time persuading them to carry on, both of them saying that it wasn’t worth it, that at the end of that six months, the Governor would find another excuse not to give it to them.

It was only after Lom explained that this was just the attitude the Governor was trying to provoke, and reminded them of the alternatives if they didn’t stick with it, that they reluctantly agreed to carry on.

However, three months later, the Governor died, suddenly, of a heart attack, and his replacement abolished the scheme, condemning Heyes and the Kid to remain wanted criminals for the rest of their days.

Lom tried everything to get their case heard, saying that if wasn’t fair, that they’d worked for this for almost two years, only to have it snatched away from them at the final hurdle. He told the Governor that he should honour his predecessor’s promises, but the Governor was adamant. He thought the whole scheme was a waste of time.

Lom had given up, storming out of the Governor’s office before he hit him.

He returned home with a heavy heart. He knew that Heyes and the Kid would be back, as soon as news of the Governor’s death reached them, to find out what was to happen about the amnesty, and Lom didn’t know how to tell them.

He had ten days to think about it before they arrived from the next state where they’d been working.

Lom met them on the porch.

"Hi." he said to them, his expression sombre. "I take it you heard the news?" he asked, as they dismounted.

"Yeah." said Heyes. "We thought we’d better come and find out what’s what."

Lom nodded. "I’ve been expecting you. You’d better come in."

They followed him inside. The Kid sat at the table while Heyes leaned against the door frame, pushing his hat back and folding his arms.

The Kid took off his hat and put it on the table. "Well?" he asked.

With a sigh, Lom told them of his fruitless efforts to get their case heard.

He had known they would take it hard, but ,as he told them the news that the new Governor had abolished the scheme and condemned them for the rest of their days, he was shocked when the Kid broke down in tears, his face in his hands, while Heyes glared at him from the doorway with a look of ‘I told you so’ in his eyes.

"I’m sorry, boys." Lom glanced from Heyes to the Kid and back again. "Truly sorry.
But, you can settle down someplace under assumed names." He paused. "It’s not the end of the world." he offered, but he knew that, to them, it was.

He turned to comfort the Kid, whose tears had shaken Lom even more than the hostile look on Heyes’ face. He’d never known him so upset. He usually took everything in his stride. When he next looked up, Heyes had disappeared.

"Heyes?" He hurried to the door and looked out, but Heyes, and his horse, had gone.

"Oh, no." Lom sighed. Now what was he going to do? Heyes could be very unpredictable when he was angry. Frowning, he went back inside and poured the Kid a stiff scotch.

"Here, drink this." he told him, pressing the glass into his hand.

The Kid wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and took a sip of the drink. "I’m sorry." He croaked. "It’s just that…"

"I know." Lom cut in. "You’re no sorrier than I am, believe me."

"Where’s Heyes?" the Kid asked now.

Lom lifted his shoulders. "Gone off somewhere." He gazed pensively out of the window. "I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid."




It was two days before Heyes finally reappeared back at Lom’s.

When they heard his horse approach, Lom and the Kid hurried outside.

Heyes looked sick, and tired, and seemed a little unsteady in the saddle, and Lom guessed he’d spent the last two days someplace, drowning his sorrows in liquor. He was relieved however, to see him still in one piece. He had been worried that this might have been the last straw for his already battered spirit.

Lom glanced across at the Kid who also looked relieved at Heyes’ safe return.

Heyes didn’t bother to dismount, but looked disdainfully down at Lom, his eyes like chips of coal. Lom could tell he blamed him for this blow. It was natural enough, he supposed. After all, it was, he who had pressured and cajoled them into accepting the deal offered by the Governor, he who had assured them that they’d make it, and be able to live once more as free citizens. Now, it seemed like an empty promise, and that they’d wasted these last two years, and Heyes felt betrayed, by the Government, and by Lom as it’s agent.

"I’m sorry, Heyes." he said, with a helpless shrug.

Heyes didn’t reply, turning his gaze instead to the Kid.

"Looks like we’re on our own now, Kid." he said, his tone clipped. "Are you coming with me?"

The Kid looked from Heyes to Lom and back again. Then, with a shrug to Lom, he went inside and came out a few moments later with his belongings, going over to saddle his horse.

Heyes sat on his horse throughout, saying nothing at all.

Lom could tell he was furious. He could feel it emanating from him, although outwardly his expression appeared calm. It was quite a feat of self control on Heyes’ part. Although genial by nature, with a slow temper, when he did get mad, he had a vicious tongue, and Lom knew he was remaining silent because, if he said one word, he wouldn’t be able to control the torrent of abuse he was holding back.

Lom hoped it was because he still had enough respect for him than to lay all that on him, and he was thankful he hadn’t gotten off his horse and vented his frustration with his fists.

Lom also suspected that he’d gone off and got drunk in preference to going out and robbing a bank, which went to prove how much he’d matured this last couple of years.

The Kid finished saddling his horse and turned to face Lom, his eyes troubled.

"I’m sorry to run out on you like this…" he trailed off with a small shrug. Heyes had put him in the embarrassing position of having to choose between them. He didn’t want to offend Lom, but he couldn’t walk out on Heyes either.

Lom raised a hand to cut him off. "It’s O.K." he told him. "I understand."

The Kid gave a sheepish smile. "Well, thanks for everything." he said, extending his hand.

Lom nodded and shook his hand. "Take care now." he told him, as the Kid mounted his horse and they turned to go.

"Heyes." Lom called.

Heyes stopped his horse and turned to look at Lom, his face set like a stone carving.

Lom shook his head. "Don’t throw away what you’ve achieved, Heyes." he said, his tone pleading. "Don’t do anything stupid. You can still make a go of things. I know you can."

Heyes said nothing. Lom sighed. It was hopeless trying to talk to him in this mood.

"Good luck." he said finally.

Their eyes met and held momentarily, Lom’s beseeching, Heyes’ hostile. But Lom could see the disappointment and the hurt lurking in their depths and his heart went out to them both. He just hoped that when he calmed down, Heyes would realise that he had been just as much a pawn in the game as they had been.

Heyes managed a curt nod of acknowledgement to Lom’s ‘good luck’ before they turned their horses and rode away.




Lom heard nothing from them for several months. Then he got a telegraph saying that they had assumed new names and were gold mining up in the mountains, hoping to save enough money to get started in some sort of business.

The telegraph was signed only as ‘T. Jones’, and gave no indication of what names they were living under now, or exactly where they were working, presumably done, Lom imagined, so that he couldn’t trace them if pressure was put on him to help track them down. He assumed it was Heyes’ doing. The Kid wasn’t that cold, or that calculating. Obviously, Heyes still hadn’t forgiven him, or the Government, yet.




Lom had been right in thinking that Heyes hadn’t forgiven him, or the Government, but wrong in thinking that it was Heyes who had dictated the telegraph in a deliberately vague manner, either for their own protection, or from some sense of spite. In fact Heyes knew nothing of it.

On their first trip into the nearest town to their claim, when they went in to cash in their gold dust, the Kid had suggested that they let Lom know that they were O.K.

It was the worst thing he could have suggested. Up until then, neither of them had raised the subject of the loss of the amnesty, each thinking the other too upset about it.

The Kid, after his initial upset, had more or less resigned himself to the situation, and in no way blamed Lom for what had happened, and he knew that Lom would be worried about them and wanted to put his mind at rest.

Heyes however, wasn’t so forgiving. As the only focal point for his anger against the government, he wanted to hurt Lom for the way the government had hurt him. He was still too full of resentment to admit that Lom had been used just as much as they had been. His resentment caused irrationality. Going back over it in his mind, it began to seem as though the whole thing had been Lom’s fault. It had been Lom who had talked them into it to begin with, Lom who had nagged and pressured them to stay on the straight and narrow, Lom who had promised them that they would get the amnesty, almost guaranteed it in fact. Heyes had always trusted Lom, believed in him, and their failure to get the amnesty had shattered that trust. Still fragile from his emotional breakdown ten months earlier, his feelings of betrayal became entwined with the anger and resentment he still felt about what Felton had done to him, smouldering away and growing in force, like a volcano getting ready to erupt, so that when the Kid suggested they let Lom know they were alright, it was like lighting the fuse of a bomb.

Heyes had exploded, venting his pent-up emotions on the Kid, forbidding him to send that, or any other, telegraph, ranting that their legal association with Lom was now at an end and they were no longer obliged to inform him of their whereabouts, and yelling at him never to mention Lom’s name to him again.

After his initial shock at Heyes’ verbal onslaught on him, the Kid tried to reason with him.

"You can’t blame Lom for the Governor’s decision."

But Heyes was adamant.

"I can blame him for talking us into it in the first place." he snapped. "We’ve spent the last two years bowing and scraping to people I’d as soon punch in the face, just to keep our identities a secret, scratching a living, broke and hungry more often than not.

"Lom didn’t ‘talk us into it’." the Kid cut in. "It was your idea to go straight."

"Maybe," Heyes looked dismissive "but he browbeat us into sticking with it after the first time they turned us down, practically guaranteed us we would get the amnesty if we did." He shook his head angrily. "If we’d planned it right, we could have carried on the way we were, saved up, and retired in style. The way we live now is worse than …worse than savages." he sneered, his eyes burning with anger. The Kid stared at him. That was a very uncharacteristic remark for Heyes to make. He admired the Indians tremendously, and had often said that there was much to be learned from them and their way of life.

"But it might not have turned out that way." he reasoned now. "We could have got captured, or killed. It wasn’t Lom’s fault the Governor died. And look at the times he’s stuck his neck out for us. He must have had faith in us to stick by us. He could easily have lost his job and ended up in jail himself if anyone had found out some of the ways he helped us out of the trouble we got into. He believed trying for the amnesty was the best thing for us, and he helped us as much as he could."

"Ha!" snarled Heyes. "He had to help us once we’d committed ourselves to it, to save face. He couldn’t afford to have us make him look stupid in the eyes of the powers-that-be after he’d praised us up, made us out to be regular angels." He shook his head. "He helped us as much for his own benefit as ours."

The Kid shook his head angrily. "No." he yelled. "I can’t believe that. I won’t believe it. Lom’s straight. If he thought we deserved it, he’d turn us in himself. He could have …should have ...turned you in for killing Felton, but he didn’t, because he knew right was on your side."

Heyes shook his head disgustedly. "He might as well have turned me in." he said bitterly. "What we’ve got now isn’t much better than jail. At least in jail we’d get bed and board, for free."

"Yeah, and that’s all." retaliated the Kid. "We might not have much, but at least we’re free. We can go where we want, when we want. We can work, or not, as we choose. We’re not beholden to anyone. We can live off the land. Some people would say those were better riches than money. And we owe that freedom as much to Lom as to anyone."

"Oh, stop making excuses for him." snapped Heyes. "If you think like that, you should have stayed with him instead of coming with me. I gave you the choice." he added sarcastically.

"When you get like this, I wish I had." the Kid snapped back. Then, "And I’m not making excuses. It’s the truth. If you weren’t so … so …pig headed …you might see it."

Heyes shook his head. "It’s not being pig headed." he countered. "It’s self preservation. The less people who know where we are, the better. Him included."

At the Kid’s confused, exasperated expression, Heyes continued with his ‘explanation’, which would have been quite logical, if they’d been talking about anyone else but Lom.

"We’re still wanted criminals don’t forget, with a large reward on our heads. People in the government know that he knows us, and where to find us. Who’s to say some of them might not get greedy and bribe him to tell them where we are, and then come after us themselves and take the reward money?"

"Lom wouldn’t take a bribe." the Kid cut in.

"Maybe." Heyes shrugged, unconvinced. "They could just use force."

The Kid shook his head. "No. Lom would rather die than betray us like that."

Heyes grunted cynically. "You think so?" He raised a questioning eyebrow before shaking his head. "Don’t kid yourself."

The Kid couldn’t believe that Heyes could talk that way about Lom after all he’d done for them, and particularly for Heyes, in the months after his abduction by Felton’s gang. He’d taken him in, given over his bed to him, nursed his wounds, comforted his tears, risked losing his job, by dashing to Denver to help when Heyes had tried to kill Felton and shot the Kid, and his integrity as a lawman, by lying to preserve Heyes’ alibi, to another sheriff at that. He tried to point out these facts to Heyes, but he was too angry, and too resentful, to listen.

The row developed into one of the most violent they’d ever had, the basic argument getting lost under a barrage of personal insults as each took out their disappointment and resentment over the loss of the amnesty on the other, degenerating almost to the point of a punch up as they each got more and more agitated as they tried to get their point of view through unwilling ears.

But, surprisingly, it was the Kid who backed off from physical violence. A couple of years earlier, it would have been the other way around, the Kid flying off the handle and Heyes trying to talk him down. It went to prove how the events of the last months and years had changed them both.

Having to stay out of trouble while trying for the amnesty had taught the Kid to curb his quick Irish temper and think before acting, while Heyes had become less patient since his ordeal with Felton and lost his temper much more quickly than before. A lot of the time he would flare up from a subconscious desire to appear ‘tough’ after all the months of what he saw as weak and cowardly behaviour after his abduction, and, with the right approach, it didn’t take long to calm him down. But sometimes, like now, his anger was totally irrational, bordering on hysterical, and nothing would make him see reason. The Kid knew it was as a result of his treatment at Felton’s hands and also a side effect of the emotional breakdown he’d suffered, which was why, when Heyes squared up to him, ready to force his point of view with his fists, the Kid pushed him forcibly away. Fighting wouldn’t change either of their views, and it wasn’t an argument worth thumping hell out of each other over. Not that it was easy for the Kid to back off. At times like these, he really felt like thumping him.

"Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do." he growled at Heyes. "You’re not the law. I’ll do as I damn well please." He turned and began to walk away.

"Fine!" Heyes yelled back at him. "But I’m telling you now, if you send that telegraph, you’re on your own."

"Oh, go to hell!" the Kid tossed over his shoulder, irritated by his irrational attitude.

"Why don’t you?" Heyes yelled back. "I’ve already been there!" he added, venomously, before turning on his heel and striding off in the opposite direction.

The Kid flinched, mentally, at the remark. The last time they’d fallen out like this had been the day Felton had abducted Heyes, and he had indeed been to hell, and back.

The Kid almost stopped and called him back, a sudden feeling of foreboding washing over him, but he resisted, knowing that the chances of something like that happening again were astronomical.

Instead, he went straight to the Telegraph Office and sent the telegraph to Lom.

He stayed out of Heyes’ way all day, and opted to camp out that night, on the outskirts of town, rather than go back to the hotel and face another row with Heyes, or a stony silence.

He went into town the next morning to get some breakfast, contemplating whether or not to go it alone. Heyes had been tough to live with these last months, and the Kid was tired. Tired of trying to anticipate Heyes’ moods, to calm him down when he got mad or upset, to cheer him up when he was depressed. If this was how it was always going to be from now on, the Kid didn’t think he could stand it. He’d rather be on his own.

Yet, despite his mental deliberations, his feet subconsciously carried him to the saloon that evening, knowing that was where Heyes would be if he too hadn’t decided to clear out.

Sure enough, Heyes was propped against the bar, chatting to a couple of local men.

The Kid made his way to the bar, glad that he hadn’t arrived before Heyes and making it look as though he had backed down first.

He stood a couple of feet away from Heyes, who was leaning on one elbow on the counter, his back towards the Kid, a glass of scotch in his other hand.

The Kid ordered a drink and downed it, feigning indifference to their conversation. Heyes was telling them one of his favourite tall tales, and the Kid couldn’t help smiling into his drink as he listened, his elbows on the bar, one foot resting on the rail around the base of it. He’d heard the story hundreds of times, but Heyes had a way of making it sound fresh every time he told it.

It wasn’t until after Heyes had finished telling the story, and half turned to pour himself a drink, that he caught sight of the Kid’s reflection in the mirror at the back of the bar. He turned back to the men he was talking to, making out he hadn’t seen him, but, through the mirror, the Kid could see him lower his eyes, swirling his drink around pensively, a tinge of colour touching his cheeks.

The two men related some tall stories of their own, to which Heyes smiled, politely, but it was obvious his mind was no longer on their conversation.

Presently, he poured another drink and downed it in one gulp, banging the glass down on the counter. He bid the two men goodnight and then turned to face the Kid, who slowly half turned his head to look at him.

"Are you coming?" Heyes asked gruffly, his expression shuttered, the flush on his cheeks the only sign of his uneasiness.

The Kid raised his shoulders in a resigned shrug. "I guess."

With deliberate slowness, the Kid finished his drink and paid the bartender, before picking up his hat and following Heyes outside.

They mounted their horses and had ridden for some distance in silence before Heyes apologised, in a clipped tone, for having lost his temper, although he didn’t mention Lom, or the telegraph, and the Kid didn’t tell him he’d sent it, or the next one he sent.

It would be several months before Heyes began to come to terms with the situation and acknowledge that Lom had indeed been doing his best to help them.




Lom received a second telegraph, three months after the first, which read ‘Still at claim. Making decent progress. Keeping well. No trouble.’ It was signed only as ‘T’ as some of Heyes’ words about people finding them had suddenly sprung into is mind as he’d written it.

Lom knew instinctively that it was purely the Kid’s words and that Heyes had had no involvement in it. It would have been signed by both of them otherwise and would have made more references to the two of them. The Kid was obviously only speaking for himself, and he was sad that Heyes was still resentful towards him.

After that, he heard nothing more from them, and was left to wonder if they’d achieved their goal of setting themselves up in business somewhere and now wanted nothing more to do with Lom and their ‘old’ life, or if they’d got into trouble and ended up dead.

He kept himself up to date on news of any high profile arrests, or killings, and all the legal executions in the surrounding states, but no word came to him that they’d been arrested or killed. He prayed they were alright and doing O.K., but he was hurt by their rejection of his friendship.

As time passed, rumours about them robbing banks and trains, which had always followed them, even after their ‘retirement’, petered out, and he heard no gossip, no stories, false or otherwise, about them, nothing. If they were still alive, they had managed to bury themselves completely.



continues

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Chapter 13: Chapter 13

It was eighteen months later that Lom had to go to Cheyenne on some legal business.

He caught the stage, arriving two days later, tired and thirsty.  He checked into the hotel, took a bath and then, after a light supper, went over to the saloon for a drink.

Cheyenne was a busy town, and the saloon was full.

Lom made his way to the bar and ordered a drink.  He downed it in one gulp and poured another.  He got chatting to a couple of people standing by him, one of whom turned out to be the Deputy Sheriff. Lom was soon deep in conversation with him about the legal business he’d come on.

He turned back some time later to fill his glass, and as he downed it, a reflection in the mirror over the bar caught his eye.  He looked again, but could no longer see it.

Lom put down his glass and leaned forward, trying to see.  Then suddenly, he spotted it.  A fair haired head in the crowd.  Lom had thought it was the Kid, but now he wasn’t sure.  He could only see part of the side of the man’s face as he chatted to one of the saloon girls, who had her arms around his neck, obscuring Lom’s view.  Lom watched as he bent to kiss the girl, the kiss lasting a long time.  Eventually, they parted, and the girl stood on tip toe to whisper something in his ear.  He threw back his head and laughed, and Lom could see then that it was indeed the Kid.  He had his hands on the girl’s backside, pressing her towards him as she playfully nibbled his neck.

Lom studied him.  His hair was longer, his face a little more weather beaten and he was dressed in a fancy suit, different from the one he’d had before.  Like most cowboys and travellers, they had one set of work clothes and one set of best, both of which would be laundered and mended until it was no longer possible to do so before a new set would be bought.  Apart from having nowhere to pack them, often there was no money to buy them, guns, horse tack and whisky being the main purchases their hard earned money went on.  Clothes were a long way down the list of priorities, unless they came into a sudden windfall. From the look of the quality of the blue/grey fabric of the suit, the Kid was obviously doing alright in the financial stakes.

Lom turned his eyes automatically to the card tables.  If Heyes was with him, it was odds on that was where he would be, but there was no sign of him.

Lom emptied his drink, excused himself from the people he was talking to and pushed his way through the crowd towards the Kid, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hi.”

The Kid looked round, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Lom!” He stared at him for a moment, before letting go of the girl and grabbing Lom’s hand, pumping it vigorously.  Lom noticed his hand felt hard.  He’d obviously done a lot of physical work since they’d left.  He also noticed he wasn’t wearing a gun.

“Of all the people…” the Kid was saying. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Lom replied. “I’m here on legal business.”

The Kid nodded, but offered no information in return. Friendly, but aloof.  Obviously this was how they’d managed to disappear so completely, by keeping themselves to themselves, keeping their eyes open and their mouths shut.

“What about you?” Lom decided to be direct.

“I’ll see you later, Sally.” the Kid told the girl, who pouted prettily and flounced away as he turned to face Lom.” Just having a leisurely weekend off.”  he winked knowingly at Lom.

“I got the telegraphs you sent.” said Lom.

“Ah.” The Kid nodded, looking a little sheepish.

“When you stopped sending them, I was worried something had happened to you.”

“Yeah …it was a bit …difficult  …up in the mountains at the claim for months at a time…” the Kid began, not wanting to tell Lom about the argument with Heyes over it. “I guess I just didn’t get around to sending any.  I’m sorry.”

 “That’s alright. I’m just glad you’re O.K.  You’re looking well.”  Lom told him, eyeing his work hardened physique.

“I’m fine.”

“And Heyes?” he enquired. The Kid’s use of the word ‘I’ and not ‘we’ hadn’t been lost on him, and he wondered whether perhaps they had parted company.

The Kid looked nervously around him. “Don’t call him that.” he said in a whispered tone.

“Sorry. What are you calling yourselves these days?” Lom asked, but the Kid wasn’t giving.  After a slight hesitation, he said. “Just stick with Thaddeus and Joshua.” still remembering Heyes’ words about the government trying to get to them through Lom.

“Alright.” said Lom, slightly hurt that he wouldn’t confide in him, but it was none of his business any more.  He knew who they really were.  That was enough.

“How is he?” he asked. “Is he with you?”

“He’s around somewhere.” The Kid scanned the room, his tanned complexion and longer hair still looking strange to Lom.  “Must be upstairs with one of the girls.” he finished, turning back to Lom.

“Neither of you married yet then?” Lom teased.

“Chance would be a fine thing! We’re never in town long enough.  We only come down occasionally to cash in our dust and bank the money.  We stay a few days, to unwind, buy supplies, then …back to work.  All very dull, but …’legal and profitable’ as I’m constantly being reminded.”

“Did I hear right?” said Lom “Bank  the money?”

The Kid laughed. “Yeah.  Who’d ever have thought it, eh? Us putting money in a bank.”

Lom nodded, smiling.

“And  did Hey—Joshua, get over his …problems?” he asked, his expression becoming serious once more.

“Mostly.  Believe it or not, he still has the odd nightmare about it.  Usually when he’s drunk.” the Kid grinned.  “But otherwise …” he paused, his expression momentarily thoughtful. “…he’s doin’ alright.”

“I’m glad he’s O.K.” said Lom.

“You told him he would be.”

“Yeah.” Lom looked thoughtful. “I miss you two you know.”

“Yeah.” the Kid agreed, his expression also becoming wistful.  Then he brightened, slapping Lom on the shoulder. “Hey, let me buy you a drink.”  He called the bartender and ordered a bottle, pouring two glasses.

“Thanks.” Lom clinked the Kid’s glass.

“Cheers.” the Kid downed his drink. “Let’s sit over there and talk a while.” He picked up the bottle and led the way to a vacant table.

“So, are you still going into business?” Lom asked him.

“Eventually.  We’re still saving up.” The Kid poured another drink for them. “We still haven’t decided what we want to do, and it’s pretty peaceful up at the claim.  We’re not in any great hurry to leave, and when we get bored, or have a fight, we come down here and …enjoy ourselves.” He smiled. “It’s not a bad life.  We’ve made friends here.  We avoid trouble.  We don’t carry our guns here.  We’re accepted.”

Lom nodded. “It still sounded a lonely life to him, but then he wasn’t condemned for the rest of his days.  He supposed they’d just tried to make the best of a bad job.

It was almost an hour later when the Kid looked up to the landing. “Here he is now.” he said, nodding in the direction.

Lom turned, to see Heyes, on the first floor landing, locked in an embrace with one of the saloon girls, kissing her deeply.  He was only half dressed, his tie in his hand, his shirt half out of his pants, the girl holding his jacket in one hand, her other arm up underneath the back of his waistcoat.

Lom was fascinated.  After a brief marriage, he and his wife had divorced several years ago, and Lom had never had the urge to remarry.  He knew that Heyes and the Kid liked women’s company, but he had never before had first hand experience.  He watched as the girl, who obviously wanted to take him back to her room for more, tried to undress him right there on the landing, while Heyes continued kissing her while at the same time trying to hold onto his clothes.

Heyes’ penchant was for more refined women than saloon girls, but, when he finally pushed her to arms length, Lom could see she was by far the prettiest girl in the room, with a petite face and big blue eyes that looked adoringly up at him.

Heyes was a handsome man, as was the Kid, and had never had any trouble attracting women’s attention. But he was selective, unlike the Kid, who loved all women as long as they were warm and friendly.

It was obvious that this girl was a ‘regular’ for him on his visits to town, and that she was pretty taken with him.  Not that she had any chance, Lom reflected. Heyes would never marry a saloon girl.  In fact, he’d told Lom himself that he wouldn’t marry at all.  Pity. They made a handsome couple.

Heyes finally managed to extricate himself from the girl’s grasp, fastening his shirt and taking his jacket from her. He bent to say a few words in her ear before, with a final kiss, she disappeared back upstairs and Heyes turned, looking about the room for the Kid as he put on his jacket.

The Kid raised his hand to indicate his position, smirking at Heyes’ antics.  Only he knew how long it had taken him to overcome Josie’s memory and enjoy these women for what they were.

Heyes nodded, smiling down at him.  Then, becoming aware of the stranger seated opposite him, his smile faded and Lom could see his eyes narrow as he tried to work out who it was.

He finished tucking in his shirt and began walking downstairs, stuffing his tie in his pocket and straightening his hair, which was also longer than Lom remembered.

He pushed his way through the crowd, pausing at the bar to get a glass before working his way over to their table, standing in front of them, gazing at Lom, his expression unreadable.  Lom noticed that Heyes too had invested in a new suit, dark brown with a very faint beige stripe running through it.

“Don’t you ever get enough of her?” Lom heard the Kid ask, as he leaned forward to push the bottle of whisky over to Heyes’ side of the table.

Heyes shifted his gaze to the Kid now.  His swarthy complexion was darkened by the sun so that he looked more like a Mexican, and as he grinned at the Kid his teeth seemed to gleam against it’s darkness, his dark eyes deep and moody. It was no wonder that the saloon girl had been reluctant to let him go, Lom noted.

“You should talk.” he retorted, his voice husky, as it always went after several glasses of whisky.

“Look who’s here.” the Kid nodded towards Lom.

Heyes shifted his gaze back to Lom now.

“Nice to see you.” said Lom, extending his hand to Heyes.

Heyes hesitated for a moment, before finally extending his hand and shaking Lom’s.

“Hi.” he muttered, while the Kid looked on, holding his breath.   They had talked about Lom, months after their argument over the telegraph, and Heyes had seemed to have put most of his resentment behind him.  But he wasn’t sure how he would react now, seeing him face to face once more.

Lom held onto his hand briefly, his eyes boring into Heyes’.  Did he still blame him? Or was it all forgotten now? It was difficult to tell.  Heyes was good at hiding his feelings, when it suited him to.

“How are you?” he asked now.

“Fine.” Heyes replied non-commitally.

Lom let go of his hand and Heyes sat down and poured a drink, downing it in one gulp and then pouring another.

“Lom’s in town on business for a day or two.” the Kid told him.

Heyes nodded, his gaze fixed on his glass.

“You two are having a good time I see.” Lom gave a nervous laugh.

“We always do.” smiled the Kid. He appeared unaware of the tension between Heyes and Lom, but was, in fact, acutely aware of it and was trying to diffuse the situation by behaving as though nothing was amiss.  “We only come down here four or five times a year on average, so we have to make the most of it.” he grinned. “Speaking of which, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lady waiting.” He stood up. “If I don’t see you before you go, Lom, it was nice bumping in to you.” He shook Lom’s hand.

“You too.” replied Lom.

The Kid turned to Heyes. “I’ll see you later.” he said, with a wink, and then disappeared into the crowd, obviously in search of the lovely Sally.  They didn’t see him blow out his cheeks as he went.  That was one situation he was glad to have escaped from.  If they were going to fight, he didn’t want to have to choose sides.

Heyes and Lom eyed each other across the table, neither sure what to say, both feeling uncomfortable and both trying not to show it.

“You’re looking well.” Lom ventured finally.

“You too.” Heyes countered.

There was another uneasy silence.

Finally, Lom said “The Kid tells me you two have an account at the bank here?” He smiled to himself, still amused by the irony of it.

The remark brought a mischievous glint to Heyes’ eyes also.

“Yeah.” he drawled. Then, “I just hope no-one robs it.”

Their eyes met and held, and then, suddenly they were laughing, and the tension between them evaporated.

“Can you imagine, if they knew who’s money they were stealing?” Heyes raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

Lom nodded, gazing intently at Heyes.  This was a flash of the old Hannibal Heyes, before all the hurt and heartache. He’d come through it, just as Lom had always hoped and believed he would.  He was wiser and more mature, but still in tact.  Still the wonderful, cheeky, witty, quick-thinking, life loving person he’d always been.

“Did you ever rob this bank?” Lom enquired.

Heyes thought for a moment, then grinned. “I’m buggered if I can remember.”

Lom poured another drink and downed it, gazing thoughtfully into the empty glass.

“What are you thinking?” Heyes asked presently.

Lom raised his eyes to his.  “Just how good it is to see you back like you used to be.  You haven’t changed, despite everything.”

“Is that a compliment?” asked Heyes, taking a sip of his drink. “People have been trying to change me for years, and you prefer me how I was?” he joked.

“Not how you were.  How you are.  How you’ve always been.” He paused momentarily, thinking. “Do you remember how you thought you were going crazy, and I said you’d be fine? I was right wasn’t I?”

Heyes nodded. “I guess.” His expression clouded. “I still have bad times …usually when things are going well.” He paused to take a sip of his drink.  When Lom looked puzzled at his remark, he continued. “When things are good …I get to thinking …by rights, I shouldn’t be here to enjoy them…” he broke off, gazing pensively into his glass.  It was obvious that he had still not quite come to terms with killing Felton, or Josie’s murder, but he seemed to have learned to live with it. More or less.

Heyes smiled, shrugging off the mood. “But I’m O.K.” he said cheerfully. “I guess mountain air suits me.” He grinned. “Calms the nerves.”

“Are you still bitter? About the amnesty I mean?” asked Lom.

Heyes sighed. “I try not to think about it.” he said, although his eyes showed the bitterness that he was unwilling to admit. “I just play the hands I’m dealt.”

“I was just as much a pawn in all of that as you were.  You do know that don’t you?” Lom told him. “I did all I could.”

Heyes nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed, swirling the whisky around in the glass, gazing thoughtfully into it.  Presently he said. “I’m sorry I took it out on you.  I just wanted someone to blame.  You were the only one I knew.” He took a sip of the drink. “I blamed you for a long time.” He looked up at Lom presently. “I know you did your best.” he told him truthfully.

Lon nodded.  Their eyes held momentarily, then Lom smiled. “It’s all in the past now.” he said.

Heyes nodded. “Yeah.”

Lom changed the subject. “I was just telling the Kid, I’ve missed you two you know.”

Heyes grunted good humouredly. “Missed us running to you every time we had a problem, more like.  Well, you don’t have to worry, Lom.  We’re doing fine.”

“If you do need any help any time, you know you can come to me, don’t you? I’ll do whatever I can.”

Heyes nodded. “Thanks Lom. That’s very nice of you.” He stared at Lom for a moment before saying “Want to come back to the hotel? We can talk properly there.”

“O.K.”

They finished their drinks and pushed their way through the crowd to get outside.  They walked back to the hotel, where Heyes poured them both a drink from a bottle in their room.

“How long have you been in town?” Lom asked.

“Day before yesterday.  And we’ll probably go back tomorrow.  We usually go early evening then stop for the night halfway and finish the trip the next morning. It’s about a fourteen hour trip.”

Lom blew out his cheeks. “Long way.  No wonder you don’t come down here too often.  But what if one of you gets sick, or has an accident?”

“We’re pretty careful, and so far, we’ve been lucky.  The Kid slipped and sprained his ankle a while back, but that’s all.  We’ve both taken a few lessons from the doctor here about what to do in an emergency. You know, snake bites, broken bones, that sort of stuff.”

“But, even so, in an emergency, you couldn’t hope to get down and back with help in less than a day.”  said Lom.

Heyes nodded. “As I said, we’re careful what we do.”

Lom frowned, not really happy with the situation, but what could he say?  It was none of his business any more what they did.  He couldn’t worry for them.  They were old enough to do it themselves.

The conversation turned to other things and it was late when Lom got up to leave, and the Kid still hadn’t shown up.

“Oh, he could be hours yet.” smiled Heyes. “Or he might stay over.”

“What about you?” asked Lom.

“I’ve had enough for one night. I’m going to turn in.” He yawned tiredly. “There’s nothing more inviting than a real bed after four months of camping up in the mountains.”

Lom nodded, remembering times like that during their outlaw days together.

“Well, enjoy it.” he smiled, slapping Heyes on the shoulder.

“I plan to.”

“Listen, I’ll be in the saloon tomorrow night.  Will I see you before you leave?” asked Lom.

“We’ll probably be there before you.” smiled Heyes.

Lom tutted good humouredly and left.

The next evening, when Lom went to the saloon, sure enough, Heyes was already propping up the bar.

“You weren’t joking.” Lom said over his shoulder.  It was still quite early and the saloon was less than half full.

“Oh, Hi, Lom.” Heyes grinned at him, getting a glass and pouring Lom a drink from the half empty bottle of whisky he was using.

“Where’s Thaddeus?” he asked, remembering not to use his real name in public.

“The lovely Sally.” smiled Heyes.

“Again?” Lom raised his eyes to the ceiling. “What about your …er …young lady?”

“Dolores?” Heyes grinned. “She’s busy right now. I …er …might not have time before we leave.”

Lom grinned.  “She likes you.” he told him.

Heyes smiled. “I know.  I like her.  But she can be a bit …overpowering.”

“Yeah. I saw.”

Heyes looked at him and they both laughed.

The Kid returned some time later, flushed but cheerful.

Heyes poured him a drink from the bottle, which was now almost empty and Lom had only had a couple. Heyes was pretty merry, and Lom was worried about their trip back up into the mountains, and told the Kid so while Heyes was out back.

“Don’t worry.” said the Kid. “We’re always smashed when we leave here.  Nothing’s ever happened yet.  If we were going to get robbed, it would be on the way down, when we’ve got something worth stealing.”

“There’s always a first time.” Lom told him. “And getting robbed isn’t the only thing that could happen to you.”

“Aw, Lom.  If you thought like that you’d never do anything.” said the Kid. “We take life as it comes these days. Qué será  and all that.  We don’t worry about what might or might not be, only what is.  We don’t come down here very often, so we make the most of it when we do.”

Lom sighed. He couldn’t argue with that.  Life had been hard on them.  He couldn’t begrudge them their enjoyment.  But he still didn’t like it.

“But what if one of you gets hurt, or sick, both of you even?  It’s miles from anywhere up there.  You should be careful.”

“Don’t fuss, Lom.” the Kid cut in. “We are careful.  But a hangover isn’t going to hurt us much.  Hell, it’s a ritual now.  I’ll have a humdinger of a headache tomorrow, and Heyes’ll be sick until Tuesday.”

“What do you mean?” Lom cut in.

The Kid stopped abruptly, realising he’d said more than he’d intended.

“Well?” Lom prompted, frowning.

The Kid glanced at Lom and then sighed. “You remember the doctor told him he had that irritation to the stomach lining?”

Lom nodded.

“Well, it catches up with him when we come down here living it up.  He’s fine up on the claim, when our food and drink is limited, but when we come down here for three or four days, have too much of everything …food, drink, women …his system can’t handle it these days.  By the time we make camp he’s usually doubled up with stomach cramps, and the first day back at the claim, he’s usually as sick as a dog.” He shrugged. “I used to worry, but now I think, what the hell, he’s a grown man. He knows what’s going to happen, but it doesn’t stop him.”

Lom shook his head. “He should slow down or he’ll be really sick one of these days.”

“I’ve told him.  You know Heyes.  Does he ever listen? We’ve had endless arguments about it.  It got to be a sore point between us.  In the end, he got real mad and told me to butt out and mind my own business.  We don’t discuss it any more.  He does as he pleases, as always.” He sighed.  “Anyway, it’s only two or three times a year.  If it was every week, then I’d have to do something about it.” He thought for a moment before saying. “I think it goes back to all that trouble…” he glanced knowingly at Lom. “He wants to get the most out of life, before it’s too late …and for us…” he shrugged “…that could be any time.”

Lom nodded, a frown on his face.

The Kid slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it Lom.  You can’t Mother us forever.”

“Old habits die hard.”

The Kid smiled thoughtfully.  It was nice to have someone who cared, really cared, about what happened to them.

Heyes reappeared in between them, throwing an arm about each of their shoulders.  He was swaying slightly on his feet and both Lom and the Kid overbalanced, grabbing onto each other for support.

They poured more drinks and exchanged several toasts, each more silly than the last.  Lom could see that Heyes was already suffering from stomach cramps.  Periodically he would stiffen and draw in a sharp breath.  Lom glanced worriedly at the Kid and could see that he kept a discreet eye on him but offered no comment, and as Lom caught his eye, the Kid shook his head, the warning glint in his eyes telling him not to say anything either, unless he wanted a mouthful back from Heyes.

The Kid was drunk too, but not so incapable that he couldn’t look after himself in the event of trouble.  Heyes himself wasn’t as drunk as Lom had seen him get in the past, but he was pretty far gone and Lom wondered if he was capable of handling trouble if he had to.  He sounded lucid enough, but he laughed a little too loudly, and his balance had gone.

Dolores appeared to say her goodbyes and a lengthy kissing session ensued before she assured him she’d be waiting next time he was in town and then disappeared back upstairs, presumably to another ‘client’. Heyes watched her go with an odd expression that Lom couldn’t decipher.  He glanced across at the Kid who knew only too well what the look signified, that he was remembering Josie, but he merely lifted his shoulders in a shrug and made no comment.

Another round of drinks was poured and they chatted amongst themselves and to a few of the locals that Heyes and the Kid had become friends with.

While Lom was speaking to the Kid, he noticed his gaze slide off him, onto Heyes, only half listening to what he was saying.  Lom turned to see what was wrong, but couldn’t see any reason for his sudden concern.

The Kid obviously knew the signs however, because, a few moments later, Heyes put his arm on the bar and bent over, resting his forehead on his forearm, his other hand clutching his stomach.  Lom was reminded of the night he’d ‘faked’ the stomach ache to slip away from him and kill Felton.  Heyes had told him that he hadn’t totally been faking, and Lom knew now that it was true.  Heyes had looked like that then, only now, he looked worse.

Lom took a step towards him, but the Kid caught his arm to stop him.  He had obviously been waiting for this.  He downed the rest of his drink, putting some cash down on the bar to pay for what they’d consumed. Then, placing a hand on Heyes’ shoulder he said. “Come on, it’s time we weren’t here.  We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”

With an effort, Heyes drew himself up and, putting on his hat, started for the door, the Kid’s hand lightly supporting his elbow.

Lom followed, wondering if he would make it.  He glanced at the Kid, who was saying goodnight to people, and tipping his hat to others, as they walked, not looking at Heyes, but his hand still holding discreetly onto Heyes’ arm, obviously not daring to attempt to help him further, but ready to catch him if he fell, or passed out, which, by the look on his face at this moment, looked a distinct possibility.

Heyes spoke to no-one, his gaze fixed on the door, seeming to require all his concentration to keep on his feet.

They left the saloon and crossed the street to where their horses were tethered, along with a pack mule carrying their supplies.  Heyes sat down on the edge of the boardwalk while the Kid secured their belongings.

“Are you alright?” Lom asked Heyes.

“Yeah.” Heyes’ voice sounded strangled. “Just a little indigestion.”

Lom opened his mouth to speak but the Kid glared a warning at him.  Heyes’ temper had grown more violent since his ordeal with Felton, and this subject was a sore point with him.  He would not tolerate being told how to live his life, not even by the Kid.  If Lom started preaching to him now, there was liable to be an argument and the Kid didn’t want him agitated in his present state.  Also, Heyes didn’t realise how drunk he was, or that Lom had seen how ill he felt, and would be embarrassed if he indicated as much to him.  It had taken him a long time to get his self respect back, and the Kid did everything he could to protect him from things that might destroy it again.

“Ready?” the Kid said to Heyes now, his tone deliberately casual.

Heyes stood up, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, sure.”  He walked unsteadily over to Lom extending his hand. Lom could see that his face had gone pale.

“It’s been good to see you Lom. Really.” He pumped Lom’s hand.

“Yeah. I’m glad I ran into you.  You will let me know how you are won’t you? I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

“We’ll send you a telegraph whenever we come to town.  How’s that?” said Heyes.

“Fine.”

Heyes let go of Lom’s hand and mounted his horse, setting his hat more firmly on his head, losing his balance slightly as he did so and having to grab the pommel of the saddle to keep upright.

“You O.K?” the Kid asked, with just the faintest note of concern in his voice.

Heyes nodded. “I’m O.K.” he replied, but his voice sounded a little strained.

“Take care you two.” Lom looked up at them.

The Kid winked and smiled. “We will. Don’t worry.”  He turned his gaze to Heyes, concern in his eyes for his obvious discomfort. “See you Lom.” he muttered absently, his mind already on other things.

“Yeah, see you, Lom.” echoed Heyes. “And thanks.”  He smiled briefly and then they were gone, leaving Lom standing on the boardwalk watching after them, his expression thoughtful.

Heyes had always been the strong one. The leader.  But these last few years had brought out hidden strengths in the Kid.  He was no longer the hot headed kid he’d been in his youth.  He’d grown into a caring and sensitive man. He may have lacked Heyes’ intelligence and quick mind, but he’d learned a lot from everything that had happened this last couple of years and put it to good use, and was now, in every other way, Heyes’ equal.  Lom knew he need not worry about them.  They would look after each other until the end.  He felt both relieved and sad.  The only feeling he could liken it to was that of a Father watching his offspring flying the nest into the world.

With a sigh, he went back into the saloon for another drink.

Four months later, Lom received another telegraph from them which read ‘O.K. last trip.  In town for repeat performance.  Otherwise well.  No problems.  Don’t worry Mother.’  It was signed just as ‘T & J’.

Lom smiled.  It was nice to know they hadn’t forgotten their promise.

From then on he got regular telegraphs every few months saying they were O.K, but they never mentioned visiting him, which he had hoped they would do eventually, and he had no reason to visit Cheyenne, and didn’t know if they would be in town if he did.  He couldn’t forward a telegraph to them because he didn’t know what they called themselves now, so he had to content himself with the few lines he received three or four times a year.

Eventually, he received one saying they had left their claim and had gotten themselves a small farm, although they made no mention of where it was.  After that, they sent periodic letters rather than telegraphs, telling him how they were getting on. These said that they were making a living and were settled in the community.  In some, the Kid mentioned a girl, Rita, obviously a neighbour of theirs.  Lom wondered if he might marry her, but subsequent letters made no mention of it.  Lom was sure, if either of them decided to marry, he would be invited.  At least, he hoped he would.  Although they kept in contact with him now, the relationship between them seemed to have changed.  Lom could only assume that it was as a result of them losing the amnesty. It had been a bitter blow to both of them, and an event they needed to try and push from their memories if they were to move on and make new lives for themselves. The only way to achieve that was to cut all ties with people, places and things that linked them to, or reminded them of, their old life. As the mediator between them and the Governor, and one of the few people who knew their haunts and habits well enough to track them down, Lom supposed it was only natural that they wanted to distance themselves from him as much as possible, although he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.  He would have hoped that their friendship would go deeper than that after everything he’d done to help them over the years.  But, he couldn’t really blame them.  Many of the memories they shared were bad ones.  In their shoes, he would probably want to forget too.

continues.

Back to index

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

                                                                                                             Several years passed, during which time Lom continued to receive periodic letters from Heyes and the Kid, telling him their news, although they had never returned to Porterville to visit him nor invited him to visit them.

Then, one day, a telegraph arrived from the small town of Morrill just inside the Nebraska border, which had obviously recently received it’s own telegraph office as part of the ever growing network spreading across the country.

Lom opened it, his face paling as he read the few words on it.

‘Lom. Joshua sick. Please come. Need you. T’

Lom dropped the paper and gathered a few things together. He knew he wouldn’t get a stage at least until tomorrow, so decided to ride there. It never occurred to him not to go. The Kid hadn’t said what was wrong, but it had to be serious or he wouldn’t have asked for him. He collected some supplies and stopped off at his office to inform his deputy that he had been called away on urgent business and that he wasn’t sure how long he would be gone and for him to contact him at Morrill if he needed to.

Then he set off, stopping only when absolutely necessary to speed his arrival.

When he arrived, he wasn’t sure how to go about finding them as he didn’t know who to ask for. He decided to try the telegraph office first, hoping the Kid had thought to leave word for him there.

"Hi, my name is Lom Trevors. I was sent a telegraph from here, concerning a friend who’s sick. Is there any message for me?" he asked the clerk, who frowned thoughtfully before saying. "Ah, yes." He looked through his papers. "You’re to go to the doctor’s office."

"Where’s that?"

"Far end of the street on your right." The clerk pointed in the direction.

"Thank you." Lom picked up his hat and left. He mounted his horse and rode up the street, pulling up outside the doctor’s office. He tethered the horse and went inside, knocking dust off his clothes with his hat.

A middle aged woman, with smiling brown eyes and greying hair, greeted him. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I hope so. My name is Lom Trevors. I was told to come here. I received word to say a friend of mine is sick"

"Ah, yes. We’ve been expecting you. Just a moment please." said the woman, disappearing into another room.

Lom turned away to gaze pensively out of the window, a million thoughts whizzing through his head.

"Lom!"

Lom turned, to see the Kid standing in the doorway, one hand on the door handle. Their eyes met and held, and all the years that had passed since their last meeting faded away and it seemed like only yesterday since they’d stood in the saloon in Cheyenne, laughing and joking with each other.

The Kid strode across the room and shook Lom’s hand. "Thank you for coming."

"I got here as soon as I could. What is it?" Lom asked, studying the Kid’s face. He looked older. The lines around his eyes were deeper and he’d gained a little weight. His eyes were worried, and he raked a hand anxiously through his hair, now cut short.

The Kid sighed heavily, pacing the room. "He’d been having stomach pains for a few days. I thought it was the usual thing …you know?" He glanced across at Lom. "But I should have known it wasn’t …we don’t do much socialising these days." he paused momentarily. "Then he started vomiting, and the pain got worse. I wanted him to see the doctor, but …you know Heyes." he shrugged. "Then …he just collapsed. That’s when I brought him here. The doc said something about …a …ruptured …ulcer? …He operated on him, but he’s no better. He’s got a raging fever and he’s in a lot of pain. The doctor ‘s talking about infection, and shock, and poisoned blood …I’m scared Lom."

Lom didn’t like the sound of it either, but he put an arm around the Kid’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "Don’t worry." he told him. "Can I see him?"

The Kid nodded. He started towards the door, but Lom caught his arm. "You’d better tell me your names." He told him.

"Mmm?" The Kid looked blank for a moment. "Oh, yeah. I forgot you don’t know them. Heyes is known as Joseph Turner and I’m Benjamin Wilson."

Lom nodded. "O.K."

The Kid led the way into a back room where the doctor was tending Heyes.

He was stripped to the waist, bandages covering his abdomen. He was delirious with fever, his body bathed in perspiration, thrashing about and groaning with pain.

Lom approached the bed and stood looking down at him. He hadn’t changed a great deal. His dark hair sported a few grey hairs and his skin seemed more leathery after all the time spent outdoors. Unlike the Kid, he’d gained no weight, or else lost it since his illness.

"Does he know you?" he asked the Kid.

"Sometimes. He drifts in and out of it." The Kid turned his gaze to Lom’s and Lom could see the fear in his eyes.

"What do you think, Lom?" His voice was a whisper, his eyes searching Lom’s for reassurance.

"I don’t know." Lom said truthfully.

The Kid sat down by the side of the bed where he’d been before Lom arrived, while Lom took the doctor aside to question him. He told Lom of how he’d operated but that the bacteria and poisons had already begun to spread through his body.

"What are his chances, doc?" asked Lom.

"Not good." said the doctor. "He’s a tough cookie, but I don’t know if it’s enough."

Lom closed his eyes. It had to be.

The Kid and Lom kept a vigil at Heyes’ bedside through the night. Once or twice Heyes seemed to come to his senses, and they spoke to him in whispered tones. He seemed pleased to see Lom, taking his hand and holding onto it, as pain flowed through him, causing him to cry out, his body rigid.

"It’s O.K." the Kid soothed. "You’ll be alright. Just relax."

However, the next morning brought no improvement in his condition and Lom began to worry. He knew the fever should be subsiding by now if he was to recover, but if anything he was worse, writhing about in pain, his body burning up.

Later in the day, Lom sensed a change in Heyes. He became calmer, and more lucid, but seemed distant, drifting into a world of his own, and suddenly, Lom knew he wasn’t going to make it. He also knew that he couldn’t stay and bear witness to it.

He took Heyes’ hand in his two, leaning down to look intently into his dark eyes. They still held so much fire, so much desire to live, that it brought a lump to Lom’s throat.

He swallowed it down and tried to sound cheerful as he spoke.

"I’m just going to slip out and book a hotel room." he told him. "The Kid will stay with you."

Heyes nodded. "O.K." he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"You just relax, and don’t worry about a thing. Everything will be alright. O.K?"

Heyes nodded again.

Lom swallowed hard. There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. He just hoped Heyes would read it in his eyes.

"It’s good to see you again, Heyes." he whispered, hoping the doctor wouldn’t hear him using his real name. "I’ve missed you, you know? The place hasn’t been the same since you two decided to go it alone." Lom squeezed his hand. "But I’m proud of you. You’ve done O.K."

Heyes shook his head, his eyes bright. "We did good." he whispered.

Lom nodded. "Yeah. You did real good." he said hoarsely. "Listen, you rest now. I’ll be back in a while."

Heyes nodded, closing his eyes briefly, and Lom could tell he was tired. Tired of fighting. His whole life had been a fight, for survival, and now he’d had enough.

Lom held onto Heyes’ hand, gazing down at him, memories flashing through his mind of happier days when they’d all ridden together as outlaws, young and free and full of life. If only one could stop time. He bit his lip, as tears threatened, reaching out, absently, to gently push a lock of hair back off Heyes’ forehead.

With a last squeeze of his hand, and a reassuring wink he whispered "I’ll be seeing you, Heyes." before standing up, and, with a pat on the Kid’s shoulder, left the room.

He went across to the hotel to book a room, his mind still in the doctor’s office with Heyes. Then he stabled his horse before going back up the street, where he sat down on the step outside the doctor’s office to wait.

He contemplated whether or not to go back inside. He felt he should be there to support the Kid, but he couldn’t face it. With a sigh, he decided against it. He’d said his goodbyes. It was the Kid who should be with him now. Poor Kid. He was willing Heyes so hard to live, he either hadn’t seen the signs, or wouldn’t acknowledge them, although Lom suspected that, deep down, the Kid had recognised the signs, or he wouldn’t have sent for him. Lom sighed. It was going to be hard on him.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, when he heard the door open. He turned, to see the Kid, standing on the boardwalk, his face ashen, his eyes bleak. He stumbled dazedly down the step as Lom stood up and moved to stand in front of him.

The Kid suddenly became aware of his presence, his eyes focussing on Lom’s, their expression tortured.

"He …" he began. "He’s …gone…" his tone saying he didn’t believe it.

Lom nodded. "I know." he said, his own voice sounding strangled.

They stared at each other for a moment, each struggling with their own emotions. A tumbleweed rolled past them, blown by the breeze that blew dust in their faces as they stood there. But they were unaware of it.

The Kid opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come.

Lom reached out to squeeze his shoulder, his own throat too tight to speak.

At his touch, the Kid fell against him, burying his face in his shoulder, his shoulders heaving as he began to sob.

Lom brought his arms up around him, silent tears sliding down his own cheeks as they stood alone in the street, holding onto each other, weeping, not only for the death of a fine, free spirit and a good friend, but for themselves, knowing that the void his passing had left, neither would ever quite be able to fill.

Lom wasn’t sure how long they’d been standing there when he finally became aware of his surroundings once more. Today was Sunday, and, this late in the afternoon, there were few people about. But, as Lom looked up, two men were walking by on the other side of the street and giving them decidedly odd looks. At any other time, Lom would have laughed at the admittedly strange sight of two men clinging onto each other in the middle of the street in broad daylight, especially when they weren’t drunk. But, today, Lom couldn’t see the funny side.

With an effort, Lom drew himself up, not aware until that moment that he’d been crying. He wiped the tears off his face with the back of his hand and pushed the Kid to arm’s length, trying to look at his face beneath his bowed head.

"Come on." he said hoarsely, taking his arm. "Let’s get you home."

"No." the Kid cut in, pulling his arm free and shaking his head. "I can’t." he croaked.

"O.K, O.K." soothed Lom. He thought for a moment before taking his arm once more and leading him towards the hotel. The Kid followed without any protest, obviously numb, as indeed was Lom, but one of them had to see to things, and the Kid was obviously too upset to do much about anything right now.

Lom led him upstairs to the room he’d booked earlier that day. Was it really only that afternoon? Lom wondered, as he opened the door and propelled the Kid inside. It seemed years ago and yet, at the same time, only an instant.

The kid sank onto the bed, his hands limp in his lap, head bowed, his expression distraught.

Lom had brought a flask of whisky with him and he poured two stiff glassfuls, taking one over to the Kid and pressing it into his cold hands. "Drink this." he told him.

Mechanically, the Kid obeyed, lifting the glass to his lips and sipping it, while Lom returned to the dresser and picked up his own glass, turning to face the Kid as he sipped the whisky.

Neither spoke for some time, each lost in their own grief. Even though Lom had seen it coming and had a little time to prepare himself for it, it had still hit him hard, and it was obvious that the Kid couldn’t take it in at all. But then they’d been together almost all of their lives. For him, losing Heyes would be like losing an arm or a leg. Lom wondered what he would do now, but it was too soon to ask. He was too upset to think of anything right now. But there was one thing Lom had to ask.

"What about …the burial?" he ventured.

The Kid closed his eyes. "I don’t know…" he muttered.

"Did he have anything …specific …in mind?"

The Kid shook his head. "Not that I know of …He never said anything …I don’t suppose he was expecting…" he broke off as his voice faltered.

Lom was surprised. With the way they’d lived their lives he would have thought they would have at least discussed the subject. But, maybe deep down, they’d both expected to be caught eventually, or killed in some shoot out somewhere, in which case their burials would have been taken care of for them. Or maybe Heyes just hadn’t cared what happened to him after…" Lom shuddered, still scarcely able to believe that he was gone. A thought occurred to him about the burial, but he would wait until tomorrow before he mentioned it to the Kid. If they talked about it now, he would very likely break down again, and Lom couldn’t handle that right now. He was struggling to hold onto his own emotions. He couldn’t comfort anyone else just now.

He sighed, putting down his now empty glass, forcing his mind onto more immediate problems.

"Who are your neighbours at the farm?" he asked presently.

"The Fosters." the Kid muttered.

Lom nodded. "Tell me how to get there and I’ll go and see if they’ll look after things at your place for a while, until you get back."

The Kid nodded, slowly, only half listening to what Lom was saying.

He gave him directions to their farm, which was two miles out of town, the Fosters’ place a mile further on. Then Lom poured them both another drink. Later, when he felt the Kid had calmed down enough not to do anything stupid, he quietly left the room and went downstairs to ride to the Fosters’.

He followed the Kid’s directions and soon found their farm. He paused briefly outside the gate, but didn’t go in. Instead, he rode on until he came to the Foster’s farm, dismounting and going up to the door of the house, taking his hat off, his face grim as he contemplated what to say.

A slim, middle aged man, with greying brown hair, answered his knock at the door. He was lean, but muscular, in build from years of working his farm. His skin was deeply tanned, and his dark eyes looked questioningly at Lom, a faint hint of suspicion in their depths, reminding Lom of the way Heyes had looked at people he wasn’t sure he could trust. He thrust the thought from his mind as the man asked. "Yes? Can I help you?"

His hand rested lightly on the door frame and Lom sensed the shotgun on the wall just inside, a few inches from his fingers. This man was obviously well prepared for trouble.

"Mr. Foster?"

"Yes."

"My name is Lom Trevors. I’m a friend of …" Lom tried frantically to recall the names the Kid had told him they now lived under. "…Ben Wilson’s."

"Oh, yeah?" Mr. Foster relaxed a little, dropping his hand to his side. "What can I do for you Mr. Trevors?"

"Lom." said Lom, extending his hand.

"Jim." Jim Foster reached out to shake it.

"What can I do for you, Lom?"

"I’m afraid I have some bad news." Lom told him.

"Oh?"

"Mr …Turner …He …died …today." The words stuck in Lom’s throat. ‘Died today’ So matter of fact. No trace of the trauma that lay behind them.

Jim’s mouth fell open. "What? Joe? But …how?" Jim looked genuinely shaken by the news.

"He’s been ill for a few days …Stomach problems. The doctor operated, but…" Lom shrugged.

"Gee …that’s terrible…" Jim shook his head. "Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him around for a while." He sighed, gazing past Lom into the distance, something about his dark eyes conjuring up the image of Heyes’ face in Lom’s mind.

"That’s a shame. He was a nice guy."

"Yes." Lom nodded. "He was."

"Please, come in." Jim stepped back from the door and waved Lom inside. Lom stepped through the door, finding it difficult not to smile as he noted the shotgun on the wall, just as he’d sensed. Not all of his senses had dimmed with age.

They were in a large kitchen, where a woman with blonde hair piled up on her head turned to look at them.

"Mary, would you believe it? Joe Turner died."

Mary Foster drew in a shocked gasp. "No ….How awful." She shook her head. "And so young."

"This here’s Lom Trevors." Jim told her. "He’s a friend of theirs. Lom, my wife Mary."

Lom shook hands with her. "Howdy M’am. I’m sorry to greet you with such bad news."

Mary shook her head sadly. "He was such a nice man." she said. "He used to come round here a lot when they first moved here. Ben too. They’re nice people."

"Would you like some coffee?" Jim asked. "We just poured some ourselves."

"Thank you."

Mary showed Lom to a chair. Lom nodded his thanks and sat down while Mary poured a cup of coffee and put it on the table in front of him. "We thought Ben might be part of the family once." Mary said, sitting down at the table. "He was pretty taken with my younger sister, Rita, but…" she shrugged. "she met somebody else before he plucked up courage to do anything about it."

Lom nodded. So, that was the Rita he’d mentioned in their letters. He took a sip of his coffee.

"The reason I’m here" he told them "is, well …we have to see to the burial …and, Ben…" the name still sounded strange on his lips. "…well, he’s too upset to come home right now. I was wondering if perhaps you could look after things at their farm until he gets back?"

"Of course." Jim cut in. "It’s only a small place. I’m sure we can handle it along with our own." He sipped his coffee. "Where will the burial be? I’d like to pay my respects."

"I’m not sure." Lom hedged. "It might be in Wyoming. I think it would be a weight off Ben’s mind if he knew you were looking after things here for him."

Jim looked disappointed, but nodded. "Of course. But you will tell him how sorry we are, won’t you? And that we would willingly have come for the burial." His dark eyes bored into Lom’s reminding him once again of Heyes. He lowered his eyes, pushing the vision from his mind. "I will." he replied.

Lom stayed a while longer before accompanying Jim back to Heyes and the Kid’s farm for him to see to the animals.

Lom went into the small house they’d shared while Jim saw to the feed.

The gloom that had hung over him all day seemed to choke him in here, amongst their things, still left as they had been when Heyes had collapsed; A half empty mug of coffee on the table along with a plate with a half eaten sandwich on it, now gone stale. A pair of muddy work boots tossed in a corner. The beds unmade. Some tools left on the porch outside. In one of the two bedrooms, on a nail behind the door hung Heyes’ holster. A brief search revealed his gun, fully loaded, in the drawer of the dresser. Lom picked them up, intending to take them back with him. It seemed fitting somehow that they should be buried with him. They’d both been excellent shots, the Kid extraordinary, and they’d built their reputations on that fact, practicing daily in front of their gang members and treating their weapons like favoured mistresses, knowing that their lives might depend on them and their ability to use them. Heyes had loved his gun, one of a limited edition, which he’d won from it’s owner, a circus sharpshooter, in a card game many years before. It was indeed an impressive weapon, and, even though he rarely used it, leaving all that to the Kid, Heyes had lavished much love and care on it over the years.

When Jim had finished, he and Lom shook hands and parted company, and Lom rode back to town.

It was late when he got back to his room after stopping off at the saloon for a stiff drink first.

He lit the lamp and turned to look at the Kid, who was asleep on his back on the bed, still fully clothed.




The Kid had been unaware of Lom’s departure for the Foster’s as he’d tried to take in the events of the afternoon. Shortly after Lom had left the doctor’s office, Heyes had seemed to drift off, almost into a trance-like state, gazing at some point beyond the Kid’s shoulder. At least he didn’t seem to be in pain now, the Kid had noted thankfully.

"We did O.K, didn’t we, Kid?" Heyes asked suddenly, his voice a whisper.

The Kid looked puzzled. "Sure we did." he replied soothingly, wondering what he was talking about.

"It wasn’t …how it was supposed to be…" Heyes continued, a slight frown furrowing his brow, seeming not to have heard the Kid speak. "If only…" he sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "I’m sorry…" he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"What for?" asked the Kid, but Heyes didn’t reply, his gaze returning to something he seemed to see in the corner of the room.

"Heyes?" the Kid said urgently, taking his hand and squeezing it.

Heyes turned his gaze briefly onto the Kid’s face. "You …look like …your Father" he muttered, a slight smile touching the corners of his mouth as he closed his eyes once more. "Do you know that?" He opened his eyes again, shifting his gaze once more to the corner of the room, an odd look on his face, and suddenly, in that instant, the Kid realised that Heyes wasn’t going to make it, the realisation hitting him like a blow to the stomach. For a second he stopped breathing. No. It wasn’t true. He would be alright. He’d been through worse than this and survived. He was just tired, delirious. He would be alright.

But, when he looked again at Heyes, he knew it was useless telling himself that. One look in his eyes told him the truth.

"Heyes." he called, squeezing his hand, his tone frantic.

"It’s been …so long…" Heyes muttered, his gaze still focussed in the corner of the room.

"Heyes." the Kid called again as Heyes’ eyelids drooped and he closed his eyes, before briefly opening them once more, as though trying to fight an overwhelming tiredness. He gazed up at the Kid, but his eyes were blank, and the Kid knew he didn’t recognise him. Then, his eyes closed once more, and the Kid felt his hand go limp in his.

"No." The word was a whisper. "Doc?" he shouted to the doctor who was in the next room, his eyes riveted on Heyes face. He was just sleeping, that was all.

The doctor hurried in and bent to examine Heyes, while the Kid watched, his heart pounding in his chest.

The doctor straightened and turned to face the Kid. He was a kindly looking man with a mane of white hair and gentle grey eyes which looked sadly at the Kid through the round, gold rimmed spectacles he wore.

"I’m sorry, lad." he said quietly.

The Kid tore his gaze from Heyes’ face to look at the doctor, his eyes disbelieving.

The doctor shook his head. "I’m sorry." he repeated.

The Kid turned his gaze back to Heyes’ body, shaking his head in disbelief. He dropped Heyes’ lifeless hand as though scalded, standing up and backing away from the bed, his expression tortured.

"No." he groaned, his breath coming in short, strangled gasps.

The doctor took a step towards him, taking hold of his arm. "Now, now …come and sit down… he said soothingly, but the Kid pulled free of his grasp. "No." he said again, his voice anguished. He turned away and stumbled towards the door.

"Mr. Wilson …wait…"




"Oh, God." The Kid groaned, returning to the present as the vision faded from his mind. It was dark outside now, but he didn’t notice. All he could think of was the terrible emptiness that consumed him. He covered his face with his hands and flopped down on the bed, wishing he could go to sleep and wake up to find that it had all been some awful dream.

Eventually he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.



Lom gazed apprehensively down now at the Kid’s pale face, his expression distraught even in sleep. He seemed to have aged ten years this afternoon.

He got a blanket and covered him, before wrapping another around his own shoulders and settling down in an armchair. He tried to sleep, but couldn’t, his mind full of memories; of their outlaw days together, the jobs they’d pulled, of nights celebrating their ill-gotten gains around their camp fire.

He still remembered the look on Heyes’ face the night he’d told him he was going straight. He’d never seen so many expressions cross a man’s face in just a few seconds. Initially surprise, then disbelief, followed by anger, then understanding and, finally, resignation. He’d calmed down the other men, the Kid included, who hadn’t Heyes’ foresight, and believed Lom would bring the law down on them and wanted to lynch him there and then. Then he’d taken Lom aside and secretly confided that he thought Lom was making the right decision. He’d been sad too, because he’d thought that they’d never see each other again. Lom had suggested that they do it to, but, although Heyes had followed the course of ‘progress’ in his mind to it’s logical conclusion, and knew that before long they’d have to quit or die, he wasn’t ready then. Fifteen years Lom’s junior, he was still young enough to enjoy the challenge of outwitting the law, still young enough to believe that living a full and adventurous life as a famous outlaw was infinitely preferable to growing old poor, and dying a nobody.

It had taken seven years and several narrow escapes before a turning point was reached.

During a particularly disastrous train robbery, one of Heyes’ gang was shot dead, and Heyes himself had been shot in the arm as they made their escape. The gang had split up and made their own ways back to their hideout. The Kid’s horse had fallen climbing up a steep ridge, breaking it’s leg and throwing the Kid, concussing him badly. He’d had to shoot the animal and make his way back on foot.

When he became overdue back at their hideout, Heyes had been frantic, thinking he’d been captured, or killed, and blaming himself for the whole disastrous affair.

When the Kid had finally arrived back, weary, and disorientated from the concussion, Heyes, his injured arm in a sling, had dashed to meet him, throwing his arm around the Kid’s neck and embracing him. The experiences of that day made him realise that life was more precious than money and he had persuaded a reluctant Kid to join him in going straight, although none of the other men would. They’d gone on alone, but without Heyes’ brains and ingenuity they hadn’t been very successful and soon split up.

One had been killed in a gunfight over a card game. Two others had died of illness. The last Lom had heard, there were only one or two left alive, and he wasn’t even sure about them now.

His mind wandered on, through the trouble with Felton and the fight for, and failure to get, the amnesty.

At first light, he still hadn’t slept, his mind wandering on now to more recent events.

He must have dozed off finally, because it was a couple of hours later when movement from the bed woke him with a start.

He looked across to see that the Kid was awake, staring at the ceiling as though trying to decide if he’d been dreaming or if the events of the previous day were real.

"Kid?" called Lom, softly.

The Kid turned his head to look at Lom.

"How are you feeling?" Lom asked.

The Kid shrugged, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, yawning and raking his fingers through his hair. "You been there all night?" the Kid indicated the chair Lom had slept in.

Lom nodded. "Yeah."

"I’m sorry." said the Kid. "This is your room. You should have kicked me off."

Lom shrugged. "It doesn’t matter. I didn’t sleep much anyway."

They sat in silence for several minutes, before Lom said.

"Want some breakfast?"

The Kid shook his head. Lom nodded. He wasn’t particularly hungry either, but they couldn’t just sit here all day.

"I was thinking." He began presently. "Remember that small meadow at the back of my place?"

The Kid nodded.

"It’s a pretty place. Peaceful, quiet. I thought maybe …well …Heyes liked it I think. He often used to go there whenever he wanted to be alone. …I thought …I was thinking …it might be a good place to …you know …for the burial…" he trailed off.

The Kid closed his eyes, his expression distraught.

"What do you think?" Lom asked.

The Kid nodded. "Maybe …yeah…" he said gruffly.

"I think he’d like it."

They fell into silence for several minutes before Lom looked at the Kid once more. "O.K. then?"

The Kid nodded. Then, giving a deep sigh. "O.K."

Lom washed and dressed and went over to the doctor’s office to tell him what they were going to do. Then he went to the undertaker’s to arrange for a coffin. He paid for it himself, telling him that he wanted to leave town with the body the following morning. The undertaker agreed to have everything ready by then. Lom then went to the telegraph office to send a wire to his deputy telling him he would be back in three days, and asking for a progress report on things back in Porterville. He waited while the clerk sent it, and then for the reply, which said that everything was fine and there were no urgent problems that couldn’t wait until he got back. Lom was relieved. He didn’t want to have to explain where he’d disappeared to if anything serious had happened during his absence.

He left the telegraph office and went across the street to get some lunch. He wasn’t really hungry, but he had to have something. He hadn’t eaten since he’d arrived. He selected beef stew off the menu without consciously thinking about the choice, and wasn’t particularly aware of what he was eating even as he ate, his mind full of what had happened, of grief for Heyes, of worry for the Kid and how this would affect him, and of the immediate things that had to be dealt with.

After he’d eaten, he went to purchase some supplies for the trip back to Porterville.

When he got back to the hotel, the Kid was missing. With a sigh, Lom turned and went back downstairs, guessing where he’d gone.

He crossed the street to the saloon, where, sure enough, he found the Kid, propping up the bar, drowning his sorrows. He’d drunk his way through the better part of a bottle of whisky and was pretty far gone. At the moment he was giggly drunk, his grief numbed by the alcohol, but Lom knew it would turn to melancholy later. He tried to persuade him to go back to the hotel with him, but he couldn’t get him to leave until he’d finished what was left in the whisky bottle, by which time, he was rambling incoherently about things he and Heyes had done as though he was still alive. Lom led him back to the hotel, supporting him as he swayed drunkenly, staggering and stumbling up the stairs to Lom’s room where he sank onto the bed, looking sick, before passing out cold. Lom pulled his boots off and covered him with a blanket. It was still only early evening, so Lom left him to sleep and went back to the saloon himself. The temptation to join the Kid and drown out his feelings with liquor was almost irresistible, but he resisted. One of them had to keep a clear head.

When Lom returned to the hotel two hours later, the Kid hadn’t stirred.

Lom made himself comfortable in the armchair again, but this time he slept almost as soon as he closed his eyes, the two previous sleepless nights and the liquor he’d drunk, catching up with him.




The next morning, the Kid looked like death. Lom insisted on taking him out for some breakfast as he hadn’t eaten at all the previous day, and probably not much for days before that. But as soon as he saw the food, his face paled and he hurriedly left the restaurant to throw up. When he returned, Lom was gazing out of the window, his mind back on the day Heyes had done the very same thing, the morning after he’d killed Felton.

As the Kid sat down, Lom turned his gaze to his. "You O.K?" he asked hoarsely, blinking back tears.

The Kid nodded. His face looked a more healthy colour now than when they’d left the hotel.

"Eat something. You need to keep your strength up for the trip to Porterville."

The Kid lifted his eyes to Lom’s, their expression seeming to ask ‘For what?’ Then he lowered his gaze and began to eat while Lom looked away, choked, pushing his half eaten breakfast aside.

After breakfast, Lom gathered his things together, and after checking out of the hotel, loaded them onto the wagon he had obtained, along with the supplies he’d purchased the previous day, while the Kid stood around looking lost. Then they climbed up onto the wagon and rode up to the doctor’s office.

The Kid remained on the wagon while Lom went inside, and then he and the doctor carried Heyes’ coffin out and loaded it into the back of the wagon.

Lom shook hands with the doctor and bid him goodbye before mounting the wagon and taking the reins. He glanced across at the Kid, but he was staring straight ahead with an expression Lom couldn’t read. With a sigh, Lom shook the reins and the horses started off.

They rode in silence. Lom could still scarcely believe that it was Heyes’ body in the coffin they were carrying. It was hard to imagine never seeing him again, never sharing a drink, or a joke, or a confidence. Until two days ago, he hadn’t seen them for eleven years, but it had always seemed as though they were still close while they were both still alive. But now…" Lom sighed, glancing over at the Kid. He’d barely spoken all day. He looked sick, but that was probably due as much to the after effects of his drinking session the previous day as anything.

When they made camp in the evening, the Kid refused any food, laying out his bedroll and lying down with his back to Lom.

Lom cooked himself a meal and then leaned against a large rock, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced across at the Kid. He knew he wasn’t asleep, just pretending to be so they didn’t have to talk. He’d barely said a word the whole day. Lom hadn’t felt much like talking either, but the Kid was too quiet, bottling up his grief. He needed to talk about how he felt. Lom sighed. Maybe later. Involuntarily, his gaze shifted to the coffin in the back of the wagon, still struggling to accept what had happened, his heart heavy with grief. He wondered whether the illness that had caused Heyes’ untimely death had been brought about by the stress of years of brooding about killing Felton.

He remembered back to the last time he’d seen them, when he’d run into them in the saloon in Cheyenne, and the look in Heyes’ eyes when he’d told him of his depression when things were going well because he believed he had no right to enjoy life after what he’d done. He’d tried to pass it off, to make out that he’d learned to live with it, but deep down inside, Lom guessed that he never really had and that, over the years, his guilt had eaten away inside him until it had destroyed him. Lom shook his head. If only he’d been able to put it behind him, he might still be here now. With a sigh, he cleared away, before unpacking his bedroll and settling down for the night.




continues

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Chapter 15: Chapter 15

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