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Part 2 of The Kate Series
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2020-11-04
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2005-09-09
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Second Thoughts

Summary:

A sequel to "Mrs. Smith and Jones", features the return of a Kid Curry love interest, as Heyes and Curry become involved in solving a kidnapping scheme.

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Notes:

 

Chapter Text

In the two days since they had left Denver, the weather had been balmy, the sun shining, they had not been chased, punched, shot at, held up, captured or accused of cheating at poker. The last job they’d had, clearing railroad tracks of snow and ice in the mountains west of Denver, had paid well, although it had nearly given them each a good case of frostbite, and they still had some money in their pockets. Life was good. And Hannibal Heyes was about to knock his partner right off his horse.

"Will you stop this, please?" Heyes pleaded for the umpteenth time since they’d started their journey.

"Sorry," the Kid mumbled. He rode at least umpteen more steps before saying. "But she could’ve changed her mind."

Heyes pulled up on the bay’s reins, stopping dead on the road. "Then she’ll drop you like a rock," he called after Curry.

The Kid halted instantly and looked back over his shoulder, utter dismay on his face. "What?"

Heyes crossed his arms over his chest. "If Kate’s changed her mind, she’ll drop you like a rock."

"But…she wrote," Curry said, all seriousness and worry.

Heyes dropped his head, shook it slightly. It was hard to stay annoyed at anyone so pathetic. A prairie dog skittered across the road in front of him. There was a colony of the rodents they’d been riding through for the past quarter of a mile, hundreds of the little critters sitting up, watching the sky for hawks and the ground for snakes…and casually observing the non-threatening outlaws in their midst. The bay fidgeted, back-stepping away from the furry little deadly threat. Heyes didn’t know which was more pitiable, a horse afraid of a prairie dog or the Kid afraid that Kate McCullough had changed her mind. Calming the horse, Heyes nudged her forward until they were once again alongside the Kid.

"She wrote to you," Heyes said.

"Yeah," Curry nodded.

"She told you where she’s living," Heyes pointed out.

"Yeah," Curry nodded.

"Did she say she missed you?" Heyes asked, knowing full well the answer.

"Yeah, she did," Curry nodded.

A group of a dozen or so prairie dogs close to the road sat upright outside their burrows, adding their chittering opinions to the conversation.

"Did she say she wanted you to not come and see her?" Heyes asked.

"Yeah," Curry nodded automatically. Then he caught himself, smirked at Heyes. "No. No, she didn’t say not to come and see her. But-"

"But what!" Heyes erupted, his hands flying out, palms skyward. The cluster of prairie dogs vanished in a panic into their burrows. "The girl is crazy about you! You’re crazy about her! And now that you’re finally going to see her, you haven’t slept for three nights and you’re fretful as a steer smelling cougar. What’s the matter with you?"

They started riding again up a long, steady grade. The road was worn well by wagon tracks and, on either side, the prairie grass was thriving. The snows had been heavy that winter, making the soil rich and the seeds from the prior year had taken hold well. The grass was a good foot high and blew soft and wave-like in the easy breeze.

In all their years together, first as children, then as juveniles too quickly forced to grow up, Heyes had seen his partner in just about every circumstance imaginable. He’d seen the Kid hurt, sick, seen him stare down bullies and fools, seen him outdraw everyone he’d ever come up against and hold his own against other outlaws, lawmen, rattlesnakes of both the slithering and two-legged varieties, mountain lions and adolescent girls with exceptional rifle skills. He had never seen him insecure…except about Kate McCullough.

In fairness to Curry, Kate was not what Heyes would have called a typical woman. When Heyes had first met her, and he liked to point out to the Kid at every possible opportunity that HE had, in fact, met her FIRST, she’d been working in a saloon in Arizona. Heyes had watched her fight off a man twice her size who had in mind to molest her. Heyes had seen her chased down and captured by bounty hunters, running for her life across the desert, accused of being a murderer and then, that last night, standing at Curry’s side during a showdown that still made Heyes shudder, still made him wonder how far the Kid would have gone. Kate was smart, too…book smart as well as common sense smart. And she could ride, shoot, track, hunt, fish and God only knew what else. On top of it all, she was very easy on the eye. Quite a woman. The Kid had fought hard to resist her. He’d lost.

They’d been in New Mexico when her month old letter caught up with them. They’d spent the late fall and early winter in Colorado, playing poker and living off the wages from their last jobs. Then they’d begun to run low on funds and had gotten the jobs with the railroad. After all those years of blocking tracks to stop trains…and, just incidentally, remove the money they were carrying, the irony of jobs clearing tracks wasn’t lost on them. It paid well but it was bitter cold much of the time and Heyes had caught a cold that threatened to become pneumonia but he’d finally fought it off. Still, they grew weary of the work and, by the time spring arrived, they were ready to take their funds and head for someplace dry and warm. They went first to Denver where a few profitable poker games doubled their funds. Then they headed toward New Mexico with the thought of heading down to Texas for awhile. But first, while in Santa Fe, they’d wired Lom Trevors to let him know their plans see if there was any news about the amnesty. He’d wired back "… governor appreciates your efforts… doing your best to stay out of trouble… however… politics… right time… etc., etc., etc." Then there had been the final note. "Stay put. Letter to Thaddeus on the way." So they stayed put. They waited. And finally the letter arrived, an envelope within an envelope, the smaller one addressed to Thaddeus Jones, in care of Lom Trevors in a familiar, feminine hand. After days of feeling depressed over the amnesty, Kate’s letter brought much needed cheer. And, surprisingly, she was in Colorado.

"She got a job there," the Kid had explained to Heyes, relaying his censored version of Kate’s correspondence. Some things, he didn’t share…even with Heyes.

"What kind of job?" Heyes had asked. "Saloon?"

And Curry had smiled warmly. "No, Heyes. She’s a school teacher."

She had happened on the job by accident. After all that had happened in Arizona, she’d ended up working there for Elizabeth Beaudine, the widow of the man who had tried to rape her, the man she had, in turn, been accused of murdering. In helping Kate clear her name, Heyes and Curry had gone with her to visit the widow and, in a strange series of events, the two women had become friends. Kate was working to relocate some of the late Mr. Beaudine’s possessions with universities and museums around the country and had corresponded with a gentleman in Chicago, Franklin Auberdine. Impressed with Kate’s letters, her vocabulary and writing skills as well as her knowledge, Mr. Auberdine had asked her plans when the job ended. In a series of letters back and forth, Kate had learned of a teaching position in the small town of Silver Lake in eastern Colorado. Mr. Auberdine’s sister was a resident of the town and had a son and a daughter she’d been educating at home. But the town needed a school, a teacher. They’d posted advertisements but their budget was small and they’d been unable to attract a true, certified teacher. Mr. Auberdine suggested that Kate might be an excellent choice, if the town would accept someone without a teaching certificate. With his recommendation, the Town Council had invited Kate to come to Silver Lake and meet with them. It had been a long journey with no certainty at the other end but the town folk had been as impressed with Kate as Mr. Auberdine had. She was offered the position.

"A teacher, " Heyes grinned. Her father, a one-time college professor, would have been pleased, he suspected.

So, after taking on provisions, they’d headed back north and, by the time they returned to Denver spring was in full bloom, the trees that had barely budded a few weeks earlier were bright green and leafy, window boxes brightened the town with tulips and daffodils. The weather was warm and, though the ground was still a bit soggy, it was good weather for traveling.

They spent a few days in Denver, giving their horses a rest before heading back out on the trail. And the entire time, Curry had grown increasingly worried that somehow, by the time he reached her, Kate would have had a change of heart, would no longer have feelings for him, no longer want to see him. It even affected his appetite, which was rarely affected by anything short of unconsciousness. Then it affected his sleep to the point that, for the last three nights on the trail, the Kid had tossed and turned and barely closed his eyes. It was, of course, preposterous. But, if Heyes had harbored any doubts about how hard the Kid had fallen for her, the last few days had made it abundantly clear. The Kid was in love. And it was driving him crazy.

"What if she expects me to settle down?" Curry fussed.

Heyes looked skyward for the divine gift of strength.

"I mean, she’s got a nice respectable job and all. She should have a house… a family… all those things…" the Kid explained, urging the chestnut gelding up the incline of a hill.

"Kid," Heyes sighed, trying for patience. "Kate knows who you are. She knows you can’t settle down, least wise not ‘til we get the amnesty. She knows you’re still on the run."

"But what if it’s what she wants and I can’t do it?"

"Then she’ll drop you like a rock," Heyes told him.

The Kid’s eyes narrowed just as the faint sound of a whole lot of hoof beats registered on his brain. Instinctively, he spun around, expecting a posse. Heyes did the same, ready to dig his heels into the bay’s sides and take off. But it wasn’t a posse. It was a stagecoach heading the same direction they were. Breathing a collective sigh of relief, the two men moved aside as the coach slowed on the incline, horses snorting from the exertion. The driver nodded an acknowledgment of the men’s courtesy. In the passenger window, a lovely young face looked out coyly. She looked about 13, with long golden ringlets covered by a pink bonnet that matched her dress, both trimmed in white eyelet. Her Sunday best, Heyes guessed. He grinned at her and she blushed a demure smile, glancing back over her shoulder at a woman, not so easily seen. Mother, Heyes supposed, and, from what he could see, the daughter favored her. The stage rattled on past and he and the Kid moved back onto the road as they continued uphill.

"What if-" Curry started.

"Like a rock," Heyes fired back, cutting him off.

They crested the hill and looked down into the valley below, a farming community with acres of patchwork fields, all of them showing early crop growth. The stage was slowing in the distance as it neared the town. Silver Lake. There was clearly a main street and what appeared to be a few cross streets, a quaint town, as Kate described it, surrounded by farms and one cattle ranch to the north. To the south was a wooded area surrounding a large glacial lake. They could see it in the distance, looking deep blue and glassy smooth. And somewhere down there in that pretty little valley…was Kate McCullough.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Will Taylor leaned over to restock the cans of beans on the lowest shelf. When he raised back up, his spine registered a protest and he grunted as his forty-one years caught up with him. He shook his head, perturbed with himself. He had nothing to complain about. He was, other than the occasional backache, very healthy. He had a wife, two beautiful daughters, all healthy. He was able to keep his family fed and clothed fairly easily, business was fair and his wife and older daughter, off in Denver for the past week where Molly was competing in a spelling bee, were due back on the afternoon stage. He had nothing to complain about.

"Hey," he mumbled to himself. "If you ain’t getting older, you’re dead." He brushed his hands off on the long, bib apron he wore to protect his clothes and started for the storeroom.

"Papa!" Molly Taylor ran into her father’s store, a vision in pink, her hand clutching a piece of cobalt blue satin.

Smiling broadly, Will’s back was forgotten as his daughter raced in and he caught her up in a big hug.

"Welcome home, sweetie!" he cried. "Where’s your mama?"

"Down the street," Molly told him breathlessly. "She’s coming."

She held up the blue satin. One end was attached to a golden medallion etched with the words, "First Place".

"I won, Papa! I won!"

Will took the ribbon, his smile expanding as he admired his daughter’s achievement. "Molly, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you!" It warranted another hug.

At that moment, Maggie Taylor entered the store. She was, like Molly, dressed in her Sunday best, her lavender dress with the dark purple trim, her best straw bonnet. But, unlike her daughter, she was a bit disheveled and road weary. It might have had something to do with the two large valises weighing her down. Laughing, Will rushed over to take them from her and set them out of the way.

"I’m sorry, Maggie. I should’ve met the stage." He warmly embraced his wife, boldly bussing her cheek right there in the open doorway of the store.

"Will!" she cautioned, reddening but pleased.

After almost twenty years of marriage, he loved that he could still make her blush.

"I lost track of the time," he apologized. Then he whispered in her ear. "Missed you, Mags." More loudly, he said. "First place!"

Molly beamed.

Maggie Taylor nodded. "You should have seen her, Will. She did beautifully."

"First place," he said again. "I guess she did! What was the word? The winning one?

"Enamored," Maggie announced.

"E-N-A-M-O-R-E-D," Molly demonstrated. "Kate’ll be proud, too, won’t she?"

"She’ll be very proud," Will assured her. "She’ll be very, very proud."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In an upstairs room in one of the buildings on main street, five men held a meeting. There was a Founders’ Day celebration scheduled in Silver Lake for the next day but their meeting was only surreptitiously tied to the event.

"Best time to take them," The man who was in charge said. "Will be after dark. Things quiet down a bit but the music starts up. People are paying attention to that."

"Won’t the girls be there with their folks?" The thin, blond haired man ran a finger down the scar that charted a ragged road from the corner of his left eye to his jaw line. It gave him a menacing look that he’d come to enjoy. People thought him dangerous without ever having to prove it, without them knowing that the scar was the result of a childhood fall from a horse through a barbed wire fence.

"Their folks’ll be playing music. Pa plays a guitar, Ma plays a fiddle. The girls’ll be on their own. They might stay around to listen but, at some point, I’m betting they’ll need to relieve themselves, talk to friends. They’ll head off somewhere."

The man who was in charge looked out the window, noticing two strangers riding into town from the west.

"Logan," he called.

Another man, this one with black hair and mustache, moved to the window. He was heavier than the blond man, thicker chested and broader in the shoulders. He moved over to the window as the leader nodded toward the riders below.

"Those two…"

Logan shook his head. "Not from around here. Never seen ‘em. You want I should check ‘em out?"

The leader studied the riders a moment longer. They had a look about them. The way they sat their saddles like they were born to them, the layer of trail dust that clung to them, the tied down guns.

"Could be trouble," said another of the men, coming over to look past Logan at the newcomers.

But after a moment, the head man waved it off. "Drifters probably. Passing through. When they find out the saloon closes at 9:00, they’ll move on fast enough."

The others laughed. But the leader continued watching for another minute before returning to discussion of the plan.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Riding into a new town generally filled Heyes and Curry with a bit of trepidation. There was always the risk of running into a sheriff who knew them, an old comrade in arms who would yell out "Heyes! Curry!" from down the street, someone who’d been on the train or in the bank when Heyes and Curry arrived to make a withdrawal. But Kate’s letter had relieved some of the worry. There was no sheriff in Silver Lake. A very civilized place, was how she’d put it, with no apparent need for resident law enforcement. The town had a Town Council. It had a mayor. And, on the rare occasion when it was necessary, a wire was sent to the sheriff in the next town and he would either come or send a deputy within a few days. There was a jail to handle the occasional rowdy drunk and members of the Town Council acted as guards if needed but, overall, it was a very law abiding and peace-loving place. Just the sort of town that would, no doubt, appeal to two such law abiding and peace-loving gentlemen as Misters Smith and Jones.

The first thing that struck Heyes was how clean the town was. In the southwest, with the dryness and winds, there was often a sameness from town to town. No matter what color a building was painted, after a time in the blazing sun and dust, it took on the color of brown. Light brown sometimes, dark brown sometimes, somewhere in between the two sometimes. Rarely a touch of red would show through to show that, at some point, there had been color, there had been a more vibrant look to the place, but it didn’t take long for a new coat of paint to look old and, after awhile, people tended to stop wasting time and effort.

But here, in Silver Lake, it was neither as dry nor as dusty. There was a crisp, newly painted look on many of the buildings, the storefronts showing bright signs and freshly swept boardwalks. At the near end of the main street, they rode past the Town Hall, distinguishable by the American flag on the flagpole in front and the colonnades in front…and the sign proclaiming it "Town Hall". On the opposite side of the street was the church, painted white with dark green shutters and arched, stained-glass windows evenly spaced on either side of the door.

They had clearly arrived in the midst of preparations for some sort of celebration with both the church steeple and the columns of Town Hall bedecked with small flags strung on string, red, blue, yellow, green…all bright shades. The place was bustling with clusters of people adorning the bank, the storefronts, even hitching posts, with more flags and banners. Even before they saw the construction, they heard the tell-tale sounds of hammers on nail and then spotted an area where men were constructing small wooden booths, and still others were slathering paint on completed stalls or creating colorful signs announcing contests and games. Busy watching the activity, Heyes and Curry nearly ran into two young men carrying a banner twenty feet long stretched between them. The riders pulled up short and the pedestrians halted quickly, apologizing.

"So sorry, friends," one called out. "’Fraid we weren’t watchin’ where we was goin’."

"No harm done. We were a bit distracted ourselves," Heyes called back. Reading the banner, he said. "Founders’ Day, huh? Looks like we’re just in time for the party."

"Sure are," the second banner-bearer agreed. "If you’ll be here tomorrow. Big to-do!"

Curry glanced around. "Looks like."

Heyes said. "Don’t suppose you boys could direct us to…" he looked at Curry. "What’s the name again?"

"Taylor," Curry told him. To the men, he said. "Will Taylor. Supposed to have a store here?"

"Sure does," the first man confirmed. He gestured to the other end of the street. "The only general store in town. Last building on the left, there. Can’t miss it."

"Much obliged," Heyes told them amiably. They waited until the men had passed before riding on. Curry was very quiet.

"You ain’t still worried about this?" Heyes wondered wearily.

"It’s been seven months."

Heyes groaned. "Uh-huh."

"Seven months, two weeks and four days," Curry said explicitly.

"I’m gonna just shoot you now and put you out of your misery," Heyes offered.

"Maybe she’s met someone else…you know, since she wrote the letter."

"Naw," Heyes said, trying not to grin or, worse, laugh out loud. The legendary Kid Curry, indeed. "We got us an omen."

Confounded, Curry scowled at him. "What omen?"

Heyes shrugged. "Well, here it is, the day before Founders’ Day," he grinned. "And you found ‘er!"

"Heyes?"

"Hmmm?"

"I’m gonna just shoot you now and put YOU out of my misery."

They reached the end of the street and found the mercantile right where directed. A hand painted sign in the window proclaimed, "Welcome Home Molly and Maggie!". The two men dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching post, still looking around, getting their bearings. Heyes stepped up on the boardwalk waiting for the Kid. For a moment, his partner stayed by his horse, like he was contemplating mounting back up and hightailing it out of town. Finally, he joined Heyes.

"Come on," Heyes urged, clapping the Kid on the shoulder and propelling him forward, through the doors and into the store.

As soon as they entered, they spotted the young vixen from the stage sitting on a counter relishing a stick of red penny candy. She looked up, surprised, as they entered.

"Papa," she called. "Customers!" She continued to lick at the candy but didn’t take her eyes off the strangers, or manage to quite hide her coquettish smile, all the more fetching with lips reddened by the sweet.

The store, like the rest of the town, had a well-tended appearance, the shelves neatly stocked, the floors swept clean. The men stood awkwardly, smiling at the girl until, a moment later, a man emerged from a doorway near the back of the store, presumably a storeroom. Wearing an apron over his clothes, he had the look of a storekeeper. About their height, the man was a bit heavier, his head covered by a bounty of salt and pepper hair, and his brown eyes warm, friendly. He was quickly followed by the very attractive woman they had only glimpsed before in the shadowy stagecoach. She looked about the same age as the man, each of them showing a fair amount of crinkles around their eyes when they smiled. The woman’s hair was almost the same golden shade as her daughter’s, her eyes the same vibrant blue-green color. She was flushed and patting her hair into place and both Heyes and Curry suspected they’d interrupted a private "welcome home" celebration.

Hesitantly, Curry stepped forward. "Sorry to bother you folks but would you be Will Taylor?"

The man was surprised that the stranger knew his name but brushed his hand on his apron and extended it immediately toward the Kid. "I am indeed. And you are?"

"Thaddeus Jones," Curry said. He opened his mouth to offer more of an explanation but was interrupted by the girl.

"You’re Thaddeus!!" she squealed, hopping down off the counter, her eyes wide.

Now it was Curry’s turn for surprise. "Uh…yes’m."

"Kate’s Thaddeus!" the girl said, turning to her parents. "He’s Kate’s Thaddeus!!"

Resting his hand on his daughter’s shoulder to calm her, Will Taylor grinned. "I guess he is."

"Then you must be Mr. Smith," Maggie Taylor surmised, turning her gracious smile on Heyes.

Smiling back, Heyes extended his hand to Will. "I am," he acknowledged. "Joshua Smith. Sounds like you were expecting us."

"Well, I’m Will Taylor. This is my wife, Maggie, and our oldest daughter, Molly. It’s real nice to meet you boys." He laughed. "We weren’t expecting you, exactly. But there’s a local schoolmarm who’s sure been hoping you boys would come to town and it’s a good bet she’s gonna be one very happy woman."

In a very rare occurrence, Kid Curry blushed.

"Is there a hotel here in Silver Lake?" Heyes asked.

Maggie shook her head vigorously. "No hotel but something much better. We have a boarding house, Will and me. And the only boarder we have at the moment is Kate so there’s plenty of room for you two."

"Oh, yes!" Molly proclaimed. "You have to stay with us!"

"Is that…uh…" the Kid stammered. "Where…Kate…where she…"

"Where Kate is?" Will aided. "Actually, she’s probably at the school. She and Emma, that’s our younger daughter, they’re probably still there working on building."

"Sir?" Heyes queried.

Will chuckled. "Silver Lake’s schoolhouse is actually an old tool shed on our property," he explained. "It needs a heap of repairs and," he scowled slightly. "Well, we’re having some problems getting the money we need to fix it up so Kate’s been doing a lot of work herself. Some of the rest of us help when we can but…well, it’s a farming community. That don’t leave anyone with much extra time. So the girls help, so do the other students when they can."

"Well, maybe we can lend a hand, too," Heyes offered. "We’ve done a bit of work with hammers from time to time."

The Kid winced at the thought of purple thumbs and splinters the size of two-by-fours.

Curry warned. "We’re not real good but we’re better than nothing."

Heyes snickered. "Maybe."

"We wouldn’t be able to pay you," Will apologized.

"The quality of work we do," Heyes told him with a grin. "You shouldn’t."

Maggie found herself instantly taken with these two strangers. After only a few months, Kate had become like family. She had talked of these two often, had told Will and Maggie only snippets of her past and the adventure she’d had in their company but it was enough to establish clearly that Kate was deeply in love with Thaddeus…and deeply in like with his partner. After mere moments in their company, Maggie already understood why.

"Tell you what," Maggie said. "You help out with the school repairs and we’ll pay you with room and board. Three squares a day."

"You have to stay with us," Molly declared. "Mama’s a wonderful cook."

Kid Curry smiled at her. "Molly, you’ve got yourself a deal."

And Molly Taylor was, at once, e-n-a-m-o-r-e-d.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Maggie and Molly walked Heyes and Curry to the Taylor farm, a mile or so past the eastern edge of town. The road was well traveled and wove its way through fields cultivated with a new crop of corn, the air rich with the smell of the tilled soil, and row upon row of foot high stalks standing straight as soldiers. The men had offered to let the ladies ride their horses but, after spending the day with her rear end bouncing on the barely padded seat of a jostling stagecoach, Maggie was grateful for the walk. Will would follow, he assured them, when he closed down for the evening, bringing home his wife’s and daughter’s bags in the wagon. Meanwhile, Maggie was anxious to get home to see her younger daughter and see what state of disrepair her home was in. And there was supper to get underway, a real celebration. First there was Molly’s blue ribbon performance in the spelling bee. Then there was the homecoming. And last, but far from least, was the arrival of the often spoken of Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith. It warranted a feast, to be sure.

"We’ll have fried chicken," Maggie announced, making Heyes’ mouth drool. "And, if Emma picked blackberries like I asked, we can have some with cream for dessert. Long as I save enough for the pies tomorrow. Founders’ Day is a major event here," Maggie told them, untying her bonnet and carrying it. "Every year we have a wonderful celebration with games and music and contests for quilt making and lace making, cakes, pies..."

"Mama almost always wins the pie contest," Molly announced proudly. She had positioned herself between the two men for their walk.

"Pie eating?" Curry asked hopefully.

"Pie baking," Maggie corrected. She turned to her daughter. "Which reminds me. You and Emma need to get to bed early tonight. I’ll need your help in the morning."

"If you need any help with the eating part…" Curry offered with a grin.

"He’s your man," Heyes concurred.

There was a turn off the main road onto a smaller, less traveled one and Molly led them down it. The corn field ended on one side, on the other was the family’s garden, already showing a good crop of beans and greens and cabbage and all sorts of other goodies that reminded Heyes and Curry…of home. It had been a long time. They’d visited plenty of other farms over the years. But the land here, the scent of the soil, the feel of the air and the color of the sky were much like Kansas, much like the farms they had known as children, the farms that had been home.

The farmhouse itself was larger than those either of them lived in as boys but the barn in the back, the chickens roaming around, the large pastures beyond with cows, sheep, pigs, horses…it was all familiar, both uncomfortable and comfortable. It renewed the loss. But it also carried the memories of before…before the loss.

"Nice house," Heyes noted wistfully.

Looking at the pasture, the Kid nudged Heyes with an elbow, pointing.

"What?" Heyes asked. Cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, horses…horse…one horse in particular. A buckskin mare grazing contentedly.

"What?" Maggie asked, following Curry’s gesture. "Oh, you know Pearl? Kate’s horse?"

"Pearl?" Curry cocked an eyebrow.

"Came with her all the way from Arizona," Maggie assured him.

"Pearl got to ride the train part way," Molly added.

"Pearl," Curry repeated, shaking his head. He remembered that buckskin, the horse Kate had ridden all over Arizona and New Mexico. Spirited little mare, she was, with lots of energy and determination. But…Pearl??

It was a two-story house, painted pale yellow with white trim on the shutters and the porch railing. The covered porch ran the full length of the front of the house and was decked out with mismatched chairs and, at one end, a swing hung slightly askew from the porch roof. It conjured visions of the family gathered on hot summer nights, youngsters catching fireflies and everyone drinking lemonade.

"Real nice," Curry agreed, too quietly for anyone but Heyes to hear.

"Will’s parents had 8 children," Maggie explained. "Two more after they moved here. They’d lived in a very small house in Ohio with all of the children sharing one room. When they settled here, they decided that every child should have his own room." She held her hands out, presenting the house.

"So now you have a boarding house," Heyes nodded appreciatively.

They tied their horses to the porch railing.

"We’ll get you settled in," Maggie said. "And then we can get the horses into the pasture. We had a heap of snow this winter and the meadow grass is real lush. They’ll feast, too."

Curry was suddenly edgy. He was glancing around and Maggie took notice. She pointed east, toward a rather small, battered looking building sitting near the top of hill at the far end of open, grassy field.

"That’s the school," she told him.

The Kid looked uneasily at Heyes. "Maybe I should get cleaned up. We been on the trail-" he stopped in mid-sentence when he turned back toward the school and saw a slender woman come through its door dressed in a black skirt, white shirtwaist, her dark hair in a single long braid that hung over her shoulder. Without another word, he started walking.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Since lunch, Kate McCullough and Emma Taylor had been working on the schoolhouse. Early on in the project of turning the crumbling building into a school, they had been given some old benches by the pastor. They’d once served as church pews but, when improvements were made on the church, the benches had been stored in the cellar of the building. They were rough benches, some with broken legs, but they were better than sitting on the floor. So Kate had been sanding them down, making new legs when she was able to finagle wood scraps from some benefactor. It was slow progress without funds to buy what she needed or pay for help. But gradually, they were making headway. Most of her help came from Emma and Molly, 11 and 13 respectively. But other students helped when they could, as did their parents. In some ways, it had become a community project and was helping her get to know her neighbors. It was also helping her to obtain a variety of blisters, splinters, calluses and scars.

Classes were only half a day since most of the children in Silver Lake needed to spend a good chunk of time helping on their families’ farms. They rose early, did chores, went to school and then, at lunchtime, they returned home leaving her with Molly and Emma…and hammers, nails, and saws. Since her arrival in Silver Lake, the two girls had become like shadows. They adored her, loved her stories, loved her knowledge and her encouragement, and sought her approval almost as much as that of their parents.

"Emma," Kate called. She picked up the hammer she’d left on the ground and replaced it in Will’s toolbox. She brushed her sore hands on her skirt, her old, tattered black skirt that was perfect for doing repairs. Her "before clothes", as she thought of them. It was how she thought of her life. Before. Before last autumn had changed her, changed her life. Before running for her life out of Tumbleweed, Arizona on a stolen buckskin mare. Before being accused of murder. Before being hunted like a criminal and captured by bounty hunters. Before meeting Hannibal Heyes. Before meeting…him.

A sweet, blonde-haired beauty popped her head through the door of the school, a smudge of blue paint dotting her cheek.

"Emma, it’s getting late. Let’s head home. The stage should be here soon if it hasn’t already arrived," Kate told the girl.

At 11, Emma Taylor bore a striking resemblance to her older sister, the same blonde hair, currently worn in two long, unruly braids, the same blue-green eyes and fair skin. They also shared their mother’s turned-up nose and ready smile. Emma, too, was wearing old clothes, speckled now with sawdust and more blue paint. Standing in the doorway of the school, the young girl looked over Kate’s head down the hill toward the house. The sun was getting low and it shone in her eyes making it hard to see but…there was someone…

"Kate," Emma called. "Who’s that coming? Is that Mama?" She came down the two steps to the ground, excited at the prospect of a reunion.

Turning around to look, Kate held her arm up to try to block the sunlight. Someone was coming. She could only see…a shadow…little detail. Just a shadow moving toward her…walking…not fast, but resolutely… The broad shape of a hat… And then she was walking, too, just as resolute, moving toward the shadowy figure. Feeling it before she knew. Knowing it before she could see… Him. Without breaking stride, she walked straight into Jed Curry’s arms, straight into a kiss that tried to make up for seven months, one week and four days.

Emma chased after Kate, braids bouncing, and pulled up short when Kate walked headlong into a stranger and began kissing him. Really kissing him. A lot. Kissing him on and on…and on…and on.

As Heyes, Maggie and Molly walked up, Maggie hurried to her younger daughter, grabbing her in a hug. But Emma, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide, seemed hardly to notice. She maneuvered to look around her mother at Kate and…him. Molly, too, had eyes the size of saucers and a gaping mouth. The kiss continued.

Heyes admired at the lovely blue sky, beginning to take on a purple hue as the sun lowered. He inspected, from considerable distance, the old shed-turned schoolhouse. Rather dilapidated, he realized, but repairable. He gazed in wonder at the verdant grass in the field, the budding corn crop, the lush pasture…scrutinized the bottom of his boot to see if it needed cleaning, looked back at the farmhouse. He coughed. He looked at Maggie and smiled awkwardly. She had an arm wrapped about Emma and was watching Molly’s face, not certain if she should remove them from this…encounter or act as if it was nothing unusual. She settled for stifling a nervous laugh. Heyes coughed again. It might have been the longest kiss in…well, ever.

Heyes coughed… … … …

Heyes coughed… … … … …

Increasingly embarrassed, Heyes grinned lopsidedly at Maggie and muttered apologetically. "They haven’t seen each other in a long time."

Maggie nodded sympathetically, her face a bit flushed. "I know," she said, biting her lip. "But…" She studied her daughters’ faces apprehensively. They were enthralled.

For Kate and Curry, time had stopped. They were, quite simply, lost in each other, remembering, renewing, rekindling…REALLY rekindling. Kate was quite aware that Curry’s rekindling had moved below his belt and she could feel it manifesting itself rather enthusiastically against her belly. She was also vaguely aware that somewhere, a duck was quacking or…someone had developed pneumonia…or…(COUGH!)

"WHAT?!" the Kid barked, spinning his head around to confront…uh…two awe-struck girls, one somewhat flustered mother and one extremely contrite partner. "Oh," he said meekly.

"Oh," Kate uttered, too, catching her breath. She pressed her forehead against his chest briefly and then looked at Maggie sheepishly. "I’m sorry, Maggie. I-"

But Maggie was laughing. "I knew you’d be glad to see him but…"

Kate spotted Heyes grinning at her, dimples in full splendor. She let go of Curry and started to go to him but Curry held her close.

"Not quite yet," he whispered to her, his excitement still a bit too…apparent.

Not unhappily, Kate stayed in front of him but turned a bit to face the others. "I take it…you’ve all met?" she said, her face flushed.

"I haven’t," Emma piped up.

Maggie injected. "Thaddeus Jones, Joshua Smith, this is our younger daughter, Emma. Emma, these are Kate’s…friends. Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith."

"Emma," Curry nodded tightly.

Generously buying his partner some time, Heyes took off his hat in a big, sweeping motion, bowing chivalrously.

"Miss Taylor," he said. "A true pleasure." He took the kerchief from around his neck and walked over to her, dabbing at the paint splotch on her cheek. "But I think this color rouge is a bit gawdy for a lady of your tender years."

He held out the kerchief so she could see the paint he’d wiped away. She giggled, moving shyly against her mother but never taking her eyes off Heyes…or his dimples.

Putting his hat back on, Heyes told Maggie. "Mrs. Taylor, you’ve got a bevy of beauties here."

"Thank you," Maggie beamed. "I may be a bit prejudiced but they’re smart, too."

"Oh!" Kate exclaimed. "Molly, I’m so sorry! Welcome home! I didn’t even ask you about the spelling bee!"

"I won!" Holding up the ribbon, Molly rushed to her. "Look, Kate!! I won! First place! You said I could, and I did!"

She felt Curry loosen his grip on her and realized it was safe to move away. She gave Molly a hug, admiring the ribbon.

"Good for you, Molly! I knew you’d do well but first place is wonderful! And you were nervous."

As Molly moved over to show Emma her treasure, Kate gazed for a moment at Heyes before walking over, taking his face in her hands and drawing him down into a pretty serious kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he picked her up, twirling her around and around, drawing more gaping stares from the girls.

"She kissed him, too," Emma announced loudly.

A crooked grin on his face, the Kid explained. "They haven’t seen each other in a long time."

Maggie laughed again, shaking her head. "Alright, girls. I think we’ve invaded on this reunion long enough. Let’s give Kate and her friends some time to…catch up."

"Aw, Mama," Molly protested as Maggie began to herd her daughters toward the house. "Are they going to kiss more?"

Ignoring the question, Maggie kept one arm around each daughter, aiming them face forward and moving downhill. "I need you two to help me get dinner started and we need to catch up with everything Emma’s been doing in our absence. I think we need a celebration dinner, don’t you?"

Heyes still had his arms locked around Kate, though he’d allowed her feet to return to the ground. She looked wonderful, not as skinny as she had in the fall. She’d been eating some much needed good meals and leading a kinder life. But she also reminded him of the first time he’d seen her in the Tumbleweed saloon, her hair in the same single braid, her eyes, those deep, dark eyes, had not lost all of their sadness. Even her clothes could be the same she wore that night. As he stood there holding her, admiring her, he was suddenly aware of the Kid, standing a few feet away…his arms crossed over his chest…eyebrows arched in Heyes’ direction.

"You through?" the Kid asked pointedly.

"No," Heyes told him with a grin.

Curry’s eyes narrowed and he crooked a finger at her. Kate gently pulled free of Heyes and moved back into the Kid’s arms. He bent to kiss her again.

"A teacher, huh?" Heyes said, his empty arms crossing over his chest. "Your father would like that, I bet."

The kiss ended sooner this time. Kate rested her cheek on the Kid’s chest, facing Heyes.

"He would," she agreed. "So do I. It’s really nice here. The people have been so friendly. I’ve been here for two and a half months and it feels…homey." She looked up at Curry. "And right now it feels perfect."

They began to walk down the hill toward the house, Kate and Curry with their arms around each other’s waists, Heyes holding her other hand.

"Any news about the amnesty?" she asked hesitantly.

Curry sighed. "Not yet."

"But we’re still trying," Heyes assured her.

Again, she hesitated. "Can you…can you stay for awhile?"

"Awhile," Heyes answered.

"However long it is," Curry said. "It won’t be nearly long enough."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *