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2020-11-05
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One Good Turn

Summary:

A dual author story with Patricia Percival.

Heyes and Kid are summoned for discussions on the amnesty, but fate steps in when Heyes decides to be a hero.

You can view more of my stories at https://eleanorward.wixsite.com/asjfics

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owner, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made from this work.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

 You can find more of my ASJ and non-ASJ stories on my webpage at https://eleanorward.wixsite.com/asjfics

 

 ONE GOOD TURN

by

Eleanor Ward and

Patricia Percival

 

 *****

I'd like to extend a big thank you to my co-author, Patricia Percival. After this story had sat, half written, in my pc for more than a year, Patricia, in her first attempt at fanfic writing, took up my challenge to try and finish it, and did a great job. Thanks, Patricia! Couldn't have done it without you!

*****

 

Heyes and Kid have been summoned for discussions on the amnesty, but fate steps in when Heyes decides to be a hero.

 

CHAPTER 1

 

It was a normal Saturday morning in Porterville, Wyoming, as Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry rode into town, the local residents going about their usual weekend business. One or two of them recognised the men, from their periodic visits to town, as Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones, not as the two, now, ex-outlaws they really were, but none gave them more than a cursory glance as they rode up to the Sheriff's office and dismounted.

Tethering their horses, they stepped up onto the boardwalk and went inside.

The Deputy Sheriff was seated behind the desk.  He looked up, as the door opened, and smiled as he recognised the Sheriff's friends.

"Hello again Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones." he greeted them.

"Hello Jim." Hannibal Heyes gave him his most obsequious smile.  "Is Lom around?"

The deputy shook his head. "No, but I got a wire from him.  He said you'd be by, asking after him, and he left you a message."  Opening the desk drawer he took out an envelope and handed it to Heyes, who opened it and read the message.

"Sorry had to go out of town on urgent business. Meet me at the Court House ,Cheyenne, 9.00am sharp, this Monday. Meeting with Governor. Important!  Dress accordingly.  Lom."

Heyes passed the message to Curry without looking at him, turning instead to thank the deputy and bid him good day while Curry read the message, a sour look on his face.

The initial one year probationary period imposed on them by the government before giving consideration to their application for amnesty had come and gone, with the Governor saying that, politically, it wasn't a good time to grant such an amnesty, as he had, in a review, six months later.  Now, almost two years had gone by and both men were beginning to doubt that the government would ever honour its promise.

They'd been quite happy in the town they'd been in three days ago, before they'd   received Lom's telegraph. It was quiet, they didn't know the Sheriff, the poker had been profitable and the saloon girls warm and friendly, and Curry had taken particular exception to the somewhat brusque telegraph, from Lom, summoning them back to Porterville for discussions about the amnesty, and had protested that the trip was a waste of time, that all Lom would probably tell them when they arrived was that the Governor had shelved their application yet again, and Heyes had had a hard time persuading him to comply with the request.

They had argued about it the whole journey back, to the point where they were barely speaking to each other as they'd ridden into town.

Curry finished reading the telegraph and shoved it back at Heyes with a disgusted look. Heyes took it and folded it up, putting it into the breast pocket of his jacket, as he headed out of the door, Curry reluctantly following.

Out on the boardwalk Curry growled "He orders us all the way back up here and then can't even manage to be here himself." shaking his head in annoyance.

Heyes didn't reply, but took out his pocket watch and looked at it.

Curry eyed him suspiciously.

"If we set off now, we can make Cheyenne by around eight tonight." Heyes said, as much to himself as Curry.

Curry looked aghast. "You're kidding!"

 "The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be there." Heyes said, matter of factly, pocketing his watch.

Curry shook his head. "No way!"

Heyes looked at him.

"No way." Curry said again. "I'm not going anywhere until I've had a beer and something to eat."

"But..." Heyes began, but Curry spoke over him.

"No! That telegraph says to meet Lom on Monday morning.  We don't need to leave now. If we leave after breakfast tomorrow, we'll still be in Cheyenne well before nightfall tomorrow." He put his hands on his hips and glared at Heyes, daring him to push the matter any further.

Heyes opened his mouth, intending to protest.  He would rather get there sooner rather than later, allowing time for any unexpected mishaps that might delay them, but he could see that his partner wasn't going to be swayed on the issue, and so, raising his hands in mock defence he said, sourly "O.K, O.K. We'll leave in the morning."

Curry gave a firm nod and moved to remount his horse, heading down the street towards the livery without waiting for Heyes to follow.  Heyes stood watching him, hands on hips, his lips compressed in irritation, shaking his head to himself, before he remounted his own horse and rode after him.

Once their horses had been taken care of, they went up to the hotel to book a room for the night.  They discovered, however, that the hotel was full, because of a banker's convention in town over the weekend.

Curry, irritated by this latest inconvenience, stomped out of the hotel, Heyes following a few moments later.  Normally, when they came to Porterville, they stayed at Lom's cabin, but with him out of town, that wasn't an option. 

Heyes suggested they go across to the restaurant for a meal, before going over to the saloon and buying a room for the night there.  It would be more expensive, as they would have to pay the going rate for a night's stay with one of the saloon girls in order to get one, but Heyes reckoned it was worth the expense if it stopped Curry's whining.

At the prospect of food, Curry's mood improved marginally.  But only marginally.  Still bristling over Lom's abrupt telegraph, and disgruntled about riding all the way back to Porterville on what he saw as a fool's errand, his mood remained piqued.  All Heyes' attempts to lighten up his mood, as they ate, fell on deaf ears, and by the time they arrived at the saloon Heyes had just about had enough of his petulance.

"For God's sake, Kid, will you get over yourself." he snapped, as he ordered their drinks at the bar. "Being with you is like walking around with a thundercloud."

"Humph!" the Kid grunted, sullenly.

"What's the big deal anyway?" Heyes questioned.  "It's not like we were a million miles away, and we didn't have anything better to do in that town than we do here."

"Speak for yourself." the Kid snapped, irritably.

Heyes rolled his eyes.

"I just resent being ordered back here, on another wild goose chase." the Kid said, crossly.

Heyes sighed. "It was a ‘request', not an order, and how do you know it's a wild goose chase if you don't go see?" he said, raising a questioning eyebrow. "We've not been asked to meet with the Governor in person before." he continued. "Maybe, this time, he's going to grant us the amnesty."

The Kid snorted, cynically. "Yeah, and maybe he's going to tell us he aint - ever." he said, flatly.

Heyes held up his hand to cut him off.  "I'm not listening to any more of this." He growled, thoroughly irritated with his attitude.  "I'm going to play poker." 

With that, he picked up his drink and headed off towards the corner of the saloon to sit in at a poker game going on there, leaving the Kid hunched over his drink at the bar.

Being a naturally positive person, the Kid's negative attitude infuriated Heyes, but, as he walked across the saloon, it occurred to him that the Kid's mood wasn't just cantankerousness - he was afraid. That last sentence had said it all.  He didn't want to go see the Governor because he was afraid that he was going to tell them that their application for amnesty had been refused, permanently.

He paused, as he reached the poker table, turning to look back at the Kid's hunched figure with sympathetic eyes.  He didn't believe that was what they had been summoned for.  If the Governor intended to refuse them the amnesty, their appearance would mean them being immediately arrested and thrown in jail, and Heyes knew Lom would never put them in that position.  Lom must believe there was some profit to their meeting or he wouldn't have sent for them.  But he knew he wouldn't be able to convince the Kid of that.  He'd never really believed that the government would honour its word, and thought that the promise of an amnesty was just a carrot, to keep them sweet, a way of stopping them from robbing banks and trains without actually having to give them anything.  That thought had occurred to Heyes too, but Lom seemed convinced they would get it eventually, and Heyes trusted Lom.  He also knew that they had very little choice but to go along with it. To give up and go back to their outlaw life, now, would be pretty much signing their own death warrants. Maybe not right now, but, eventually, probably sooner rather than later, they would be hunted down and either killed or sent to jail for twenty years.  Heyes wasn't sure which one was worse.  There were worse ways to kill a man than killing him.  Not that the life they had now was much better; always having to keep on the move, constantly looking over their shoulders for the law, never being able to put down roots, or build relationships in case their identities were discovered. It was a soul destroying existence.  The only thing that could be said about it was that at least they had their freedom. For now.

With a sigh, he turned back to the poker game.  "Sit in?" he enquired with a smile, sliding onto a vacant seat as the assembled players nodded their approval.

After a few drinks, the Kid began to mellow a little, and, since he knew Heyes would be at the poker table for the remainder of the afternoon, if not all night too, took himself off to get a bath. Upon his return, he went off to try and organise a room.  Since they would have to pay the rate for a night's stay with one of the saloon girls to get one, the Kid decided he might as well get his monies worth and picked out one of the girls to spend time with.  He would send her home later and then he and Heyes could keep the room for the rest of the night and get some sleep. Heyes might decide to pick out a girl to spend time with himself, but the Kid guessed it was unlikely.  Once he got involved in a poker game he lost all track of time.

He bought the girl, whose name was Chloe, several drinks, before suggesting they go upstairs together. With a giggle, Chloe agreed, eyeing him sultrily.  Not all of the men she entertained were as good looking, or as clean, as him.

"You go on up, I'll be right behind you." the Kid told her, downing the last of his drink.

Chloe disappeared upstairs and the Kid went over to where Heyes was still engrossed in the poker game.  From the pile of money in front of him, it appeared that luck was on his side tonight.  But then it was on his side most nights, the Kid noted with a wry grin.

He hovered by the table until the current hand was played, at which point, Heyes glanced up at him, his expression still fractious.  The Kid's expression became sombre once more, still feeling piqued, about being ordered back here, and at Heyes, for snapping at him earlier.

"Room nine." he said flatly to Heyes.  "Don't hurry your game." he added pointedly.

Heyes rolled his eyes to the ceiling, understanding the Kid's meaning.  Then, with a slight nod of acknowledgment, returned his attention to the game.

He exited the game much later, a satisfied smile on his face, having won over $100, and  adjourned to the bar, not wanting to interrupt the Kid's entertainment.

It was almost midnight when he finally went up to the room the Kid had booked, which was on the second floor, feeling somewhat inebriated after lingering at the bar until he was fairly certain the Kid would have sent the saloon girl home.

He quietly opened the door and peeked his head around it to make sure that he wasn't interrupting anything.  When he saw no sign of the saloon girl, he opened the door further and went inside.

The room was a corner room, and therefore slightly more spacious than some of the others, and sported a double bed on one wall, and a single one beneath the window on the other. The Kid was sprawled in the middle of the double bed, fast asleep, snoring softly, his clothes scattered about the floor where they'd fallen as he and Chloe had undressed each other.  The girl was nowhere to be seen.

With a wry shake of his head, Heyes moved, somewhat unsteadily, across to the single bed, and sat down to pull off his boots. The Kid did not stir.  Placing the boots at the foot of the bed, he hung his gun belt on the bedpost and then draped his clothes over the back of the chair, at the small dresser, before climbing into the single bed.  As he closed his eyes, his head began to spin, slightly, from the effects of the whisky he'd consumed, but in moments he was dead to the world, oblivious.

*    *    *

It was after two a.m. when the Kid woke, coughing.  For a moment, he lay there, still half asleep.  Then, the smell of burning brought him fully awake.  He sat up and lit the lamp, gasping when he saw smoke seeping under the door, and billowing into the room, and realised what it meant.

Jumping out of bed, he grabbed for his pants and started to pull them on.

"Heyes." he called. "Wake up."

Sleeping next to the window, which was open a few inches, the smoke hadn't reached Heyes, and he slept on, oblivious to the lethal fumes billowing into the room.

Fastening his pants, the Kid dashed across to Heyes' bed and shook him roughly.

"Heyes!  Wake up."

"Mmm?" Heyes mumbled.

"Wake up!" The Kid shook him harder.

"Wha--?" Heyes opened his eyes and squinted up at the Kid.

"Get up. Quick!  There's a fire." The Kid threw Heyes' pants onto the bed before dashing across to the other side of the room to pull on his shirt and jacket.

"Fire?" Heyes, his senses dulled by the alcohol he'd consumed, looked puzzled, still only half awake.

The Kid nodded. "The saloon's on fire.  Come on, we gotta get out."

Heyes' eyes widened as the Kid's words sunk in.  Then, seeing the smoke billowing under the door, he dived out of bed and hastily pulled on his clothes.

As the Kid moved to open the door, Heyes shouted "No, wait!" reaching out to stop him.

At the Kid's startled look, Heyes gingerly touched the door handle.  It was warm, but not hot.  Placing his ear to the door, he listened for the sounds of the fire, to judge if it was safe to open it.

"What are you doing?" demanded the Kid.

"Trying to tell how near the door the fire is." said Heyes.  "If it's right outside and we open the door, we're gonners."

"What do you think?" asked the Kid.

"I think it's O.K." said Heyes. "Stand back."  He pushed the Kid away from the door and carefully opened it a crack, before gingerly peering around it.

The landing was full of smoke and he could hear flames crackling on the floors below.  People were shouting and screaming, and he could hear glass breaking.

"Can we make it?" asked the Kid.

"I don't know." said Heyes, closing the door again.  "But we certainly can't go out the window from this floor, so we'll just have to try."

They tied their bandannas over their noses and mouths and stepped out into the corridor, edging along it towards the stairs.  The smoke was so thick they couldn't see more than an arms length ahead.

They reached the landing and started down the stairs to the first floor.  The smoke was lit by an eerie orange glow, and it was hot and airless.

They reached the first floor landing and hurried along the corridor towards the staircase to the ground floor.  Flames were licking up the walls and across the ceiling, and the banisters were smouldering.  It was obvious, from the heat and noise, that the ground floor was well alight, and they paused at the top of the staircase, both wondering, when they got to the bottom, if there was a way through the flames to the door and the fresh air outside. But, since there was no other way out, they had no choice but to try.

Just then, screams rang out from a room at the far end of the landing, whose door was just beginning to be licked by flames.

Heyes and Kid looked at each other.

"You go down." Heyes said hoarsely, eyeing the burning door.

"No." The Kid caught his arm, knowing what he was thinking. "There's no time."

"Go on." Heyes pushed him towards the staircase. "Go!" he insisted, when the Kid shook his head.  "I'll be right behind you." With that, he turned and headed back along the landing.

The Kid glanced downstairs and then back at Heyes, undecided whether to go down, or go after him.  The staircase was well alight, flames beginning to eat away at the treads.  As Heyes disappeared into the smoke that swirled around them, the Kid, sucking in a breath, ran down the stairs, taking care to keep to the centre of the treads, away from the flames.  By the time he reached the bottom, the bottom half of his pants was beginning to smoulder.

The fire fighters were beginning to get control of the fire down on the ground floor, but there was still a large portion of the saloon area still alight that the Kid had to pass through.  Taking a choking breath, he put his head down and ran, holding his arms up to protect his face.

As he exited the door, someone doused him with water.

"You O.K, lad?" the man who had doused him asked.

"I... I think so..." the Kid gasped, breathlessly, doubling over and beginning to cough violently.

"You're lucky you made it." the man told him. "There's four dead so far."

"My friend..." the Kid gasped.  "He's still in there... He went back to rescue someone..."

The man looked at him as though he thought Heyes had no chance of getting out, and, as he turned to look back inside at the flames licking around the staircase, and the falling timbers, the Kid had to admit that it didn't look good.

Just then, the doctor appeared, and, despite the Kid's protests, took him aside and examined him.

"Apart from singed ankles and some smoke inhalation you're O.K." he told him. "You're lucky.  There's four dead so far, five with cuts, fractures and concussion, from jumping out of windows, and two with smoke inhalation serious enough for me to hospitalise them in my clinic." 

The doctor moved on to look for more casualties, and the Kid moved across the street, where the air was clearer, and sat down heavily on the boardwalk, still coughing, surprised to see his hands trembling after his flight from the flames.

The fire fighters, continuing their battle with the fire, had now doused the flames across two thirds of the ground floor, but they still raged up the stairs and on the upper floors, and it was looking unlikely that they would be able to save the upper part of the building.

*    *   *

Upstairs, Heyes kicked open the door to the room where the screams were coming from and leapt inside.

Cowering in a corner, was one of the saloon girls.  Her ‘client' had jumped out of the window, but the girl had obviously been too afraid to follow, and now, to Heyes' disappointment, the flames had cut off any chance of escape that way, which meant risking the journey  back down the staircase.

"Come on." he called to the girl, holding out his hand to her, but she was too scared to move, shaking her head ‘no'.

"Come on." Heyes repeated.  "We can get out this way." he told her, with more conviction than he felt.

When the girl still refused to move, he crossed the room and pulled her to her feet.

"Come on." he said, yanking out the feathers fixed in her hair, which would easily catch fire, and, taking off his jacket, wrapped it around her bare shoulders.

"No..." the girl shook her head, her eyes wide with terror.

"It's O.K. I'll take care of you." said Heyes, removing the bandanna from his face and fastening it across her nose and mouth, to keep out the smoke, and then scooping her up in his arms.

The girl flung her arms around his neck and hung on tight, burying her face in his shoulder, as Heyes edged his way back along the landing towards the staircase. The smoke was so thick and pungent now his eyes streamed and he could barely see where he was walking, and, without the bandanna protecting his nose and mouth, he could barely breathe.  He tried to keep his face pressed in amongst the saloon girl's hair in an attempt to filter out some of the smoke, but it wasn't helping much and he was becoming dizzy and light headed.

He finally reached the top of the staircase and paused, gasping for breath, to adjust the girl's weight, before gingerly beginning his descent, praying he could stay conscious long enough to reach the bottom, where, hopefully, help would be waiting.

But, as he put his foot on the fourth step, the staircase gave way and suddenly they were falling.

The girl screamed, and Heyes let out a yell of shocked surprise as he wildly flailed around for a non-existent hand hold before hitting the ground, amongst the debris of the staircase, and whirling down into oblivion.

Hovering outside, the Kid, hearing the yells, and recognising Heyes' voice, turned and ran into the building, despite attempts by the fire fighters to stop him, shouting for the doctor as he went.

Heyes was sprawled, motionless, face down, on the water sodden floor, amongst the debris of the staircase, the girl a few yards off to his left. His right arm was bent up beneath him, and his right leg twisted underneath the left.  A length of banister lay across the left side of his back.  The smouldering timber had burnt through to his flesh, and the Kid hastily grabbed a bucket of water from one of the fire fighters, who had now approached, and threw it over him, to douse it, his heart in his mouth, as he looked at Heyes' still figure, fearing that he was dead.

The doctor appeared at his side and together they lifted the piece of timber off him before crouching down by his side, while two of the fire fighters crossed to the motionless form of the girl a few yards away.

The doctor checked for a pulse.  "He's alive." he told the Kid.

"Thank God." breathed the Kid. "Let's get him out of here."

"Wait." said the doctor, as the Kid made to lift him. "It might be dangerous to move him.  He might have spinal injuries, or internal damage."

The Kid nodded.  He should have thought of that. He waited while the doctor examined him.  Heyes was bleeding from the nose and a gash on his forehead. 

"His right arm is broken and his shoulder is dislocated, but there doesn't seem to be any obvious spinal damage.  I think it's safe to move him." the doctor said presently.  "Let's get him to my clinic, where I can examine him more thoroughly"

The Kid nodded, and he and one of the fire fighters bent to lift him up.  They carried him carefully up the street to the doctor's clinic and lay him face down on the table in his treatment room, while two of the fire fighters carried the girl over.  By the time they arrived, she had more or less regained consciousness.  The doctor examined her, and treated her for a broken wrist, shock and a mild concussion before allowing her to go home to rest.

The doctor then returned to Heyes, where he soaked the remains of his shirt and carefully peeled it from his back and then stripped the rest of his wet clothes from him and covered him with a sheet before beginning a more thorough examination.

The Kid grimaced at the burn, across his shoulder blade and the back of his left arm, where the piece of timber had landed on him, which was red, swollen and blistered.

Presently the doctor straightened up from his examination. "His arm is broken in two places, midway between the elbow and shoulder and at the corresponding place in his forearm, and he also has a broken collar bone, three fractured ribs, and a severe concussion. He's also inhaled a lot of smoke." he told the Kid.

"What about the burns?" asked the Kid.  "Will he be scarred?"

"It's too early to say." said the doctor as he carefully cleaned the area and then covered the burns with clean, cotton dressings.  He then manipulated Heyes' shoulder back into place and then set his arm in a splint, from shoulder to wrist, before cleaning the blood from his face and examining the cut on his forehead, a couple of inches above his eyebrow.   The doctor sterilized the wound and put three stitches in it, and then he and the Kid lifted him and, carrying him into an adjoining room, lay him face down on the bed there. The doctor took a pillow and, lifting Heyes' burnt arm, placed it against his armpit and, folding his arm, carefully rested it on it.

Heyes was beginning to stir now, groaning at the pain flowing through him.

The Kid circled the bed and crouched down close to Heyes' face, which was turned to the left side.

"Joshua?" he called softly.

Heyes groaned and tried to open his eyes.  After the third attempt, he succeeded, but was too groggy to recognise the Kid, closing them again with a groan of pain and drifting into unconsciousness once more.

The doctor put on his stethoscope and listened to Heyes' heart and lungs, a frown creasing his brow.  Removing it, he turned to look at the Kid who was coughing heavily.

"You should go and get some rest. You look bushed." he told him.

"I'd rather stay here." the Kid replied, coughing again.

"You can't do anything more for him right now, and you need to get some rest just as much as he does." the doctor told him, but the Kid shook his head.

"I don't have anywhere to go." he croaked. "The saloon's destroyed and all our stuff with it, the hotel is full, and our friend, Lom Trevors, is out of town."

The doctor eyed his pale face, as he started coughing again.  Although he didn't know it, this man had been badly shaken by his flight from the fire and could use some peace and quiet to recover.

"Alright." he told him, taking his arm.  "You can stay here.  There's a cot out in the main office."  He led him out to the main office and set up the cot for him, his other treatment rooms all being occupied.  He then went to a cupboard and withdrew a shirt and a pair of pants.  "You should get out of those wet clothes." he told the Kid. "You're about the same size as me, these should fit you. I keep a spare shirt and pants here for emergencies."

"Thank you." the Kid replied gratefully.

The doctor fetched a towel and held it out to him.  "Dry yourself off and then get some sleep, I'll take care of your friend."

"His name's Joshua." the Kid told him, taking the towel. "Joshua Smith."

"Joshua." the doctor repeated.  "And your name is?"

"Thaddeus Jones." replied the Kid.  "He is gonna be alright, isn't he?" he asked worriedly.

"Don't worry, Thaddeus." the doctor replied, ignoring his question. "You just get some rest. Its late." he told him, glancing at his watch.  It was just after three thirty.

"Thanks." muttered the Kid. In truth, he did feel somewhat shaky, both from his flight from the saloon and shock at what had happened to Heyes, and he also felt nauseous from the smoke he'd inhaled.  Unfolding the blankets the doctor had put out, he began to spread them out on the cot as the doctor disappeared back to tend Heyes. Then, stripping off his wet clothes, which he hung over the back of a chair to dry, he towelled dry and then climbed into his makeshift bed.

The doctor hadn't wanted to say anything to Thaddeus, guessing that he wouldn't want to leave if he knew, but his patient was beginning to go into shock, which, if left untreated, could be fatal. Thaddeus was pretty shaken up himself and the doctor thought it was better he get some rest than sit up worrying about his friend.  He could wake him, later, if his friend's condition deteriorated.

He checked Heyes' pulse.  It was weak and irregular, his face had a grey pallor and his skin was clammy to the touch.

The doctor raised the bed up a little, so that his feet were higher than his head, to aid circulation. Then he found out a pair of long johns which he gently manoeuvred onto Heyes' legs, pulling them up to his waist.  Then he fetched several blankets and covered  every part of him except for the burnt area on his back and arm.

"Joshua." he called.  "Joshua, can you hear me?"

Heyes frowned and groaned.

"Come on, Joshua, wake up." the doctor called, wanting to try and stimulate his consciousness lest he fall into a coma.

Heyes groaned again, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to respond to the doctor's voice.

The doctor wrung out a cloth in some warm water and began to dab at Heyes' face.

"Come on, Joshua, open your eyes, there's a good lad."

Heyes tried, succeeding on the third attempt, blinking several times as he tried to focus.

He tried to move, groaning as pain flowed through him.

"Don't try to move." The doctor told him.

Heyes tried to speak, but couldn't form any words.

"Ssh.  Just lie still." the doctor told him.  "You broke a few bones and you burnt your back, but you're going to be fine.  Are you cold?"

Heyes gave a groan, nodding slightly, his eyelids drooping once more.

The doctor went to find another blanket and covered him with it.  When he sat back down, Heyes had drifted off again.

"Joshua." the doctor called.  "Come on, open your eyes."

Heyes forced his eyes open once again.

"Joshua, listen to me.  Can you wiggle your toes for me." the doctor asked. "Joshua?" he repeated, as Heyes' eyelids began to droop once more. 

Heyes opened his eyes again, and the doctor repeated his question, relieved when Heyes responded and moved his feet and toes.  At least he hadn't sustained any spinal damage.

The doctor kept him awake until his pulse had regulated and the grey pallor of shock had faded from his face before allowing him to drift into a fitful sleep, monitoring his condition hourly through the night, in between tending various other casualties of the fire as they came in.

As his body tried to rid itself of the smoke he'd inhaled, Heyes was consumed by coughing fits, so violent they made him heave.  The doctor had to fold a towel and place it beneath his head to prevent him soiling the pillow and bedsheet since Heyes was too dazed and confused from the concussion, and too consumed by the pain of his injuries, to be aware of his actions as he coughed and vomited up the phlegm that filled his lungs, groaning as the action pulled his injured ribs, adding to the already overwhelming pain from the burns and broken bones.

*    *    *

After a few hours sleep, the Kid woke and, pulling on the clothes doctor had lent him, went to check on Heyes.

The doctor looked tired after his sleepless night treating further casualties of the fire and monitoring Heyes and the other two smoke inhalation patients in his clinic, having only managed to snatch twenty minute to half hour naps in between caring for them.

"How is he, doc?" asked the Kid, eyeing Heyes' motionless form.

The doctor sighed, wearily.  "He's still very disorientated and in a lot of pain, but he's hanging in there." he told him. "He started to go into shock last night, but he recovered later." he continued, pouring a mug of coffee from a pot he'd just made.  "Would you like one?" he enquired, holding up the pot.

"No thanks." replied the Kid beginning to cough. "I'll get something at the restaurant later.  Do you mind if I freshen up first?"

"No, of course not." replied the doctor.  "How are you feeling this morning?"

The Kid shrugged.  "O.K.  My chest feels a bit tight, but otherwise, I'm fine."

"Well, try to cough up the smoke if you can." the doctor told him. "It's no good for your lungs."

The Kid nodded.  He freshened up and then went back into Heyes' room, to where the doctor had placed his wet clothes to dry the night before, and felt in Heyes' jacket, which the saloon girl had returned before going home, hoping that the money he'd won playing poker the previous night was in there, breathing a sigh of relief when he pulled out a wad of notes from the inside pocket.  If that had been lost in the fire, he didn't know what he would have done. He only had a few dollars on him himself.  Pocketing the money with his own, he slipped across to the restaurant for a quick breakfast.

As he ate, he suddenly remembered their scheduled meeting with Lom, in Cheyenne, the next morning.  Well, there was no way they were going to make that now, he thought, resignedly. When he'd finished his meal, he went over to the telegraph office to send a wire to Lom, care of the Courthouse in Cheyenne.  He stood there, pondering on what to write.  Heyes usually composed their telegraphs, saying that the Kid put too many unnecessary words in, when he wrote any, wasting money.  After several moments he wrote.  ‘Lom. Sorry, can't attend meeting. Smith hurt. Contact us at doctor's office, Porterville.'  He signed it as ‘Jones' and sent it, before returning to the doctor's office, where the doctor led the way into Heyes' room.

"I'm going to have to bathe those burns and change the dressing's soon." the doctor told him. "I've been putting it off until he's settled down a bit because it'll be pretty painful, but I need to do it to avoid the risk of infection."

He circled the bed to get a closer look at Heyes, still lying face down, as he had been the previous night, blankets wrapped around him, save for his burnt back, and arm, which was still supported on the pillow.  He looked pale and drawn, as he lay there, with his eyes closed, a frown of pain on his face, and his breathing seemed laboured and raspy.  The Kid pulled up a chair and sat down by his side.

"Joshua." he called.

Heyes stirred slightly, but gave no response.

"Joshua, it's me, Thaddeus. Can you hear me?"

Heyes gave a muffled "Mmm."

"Just hang in there.  You're doing fine." the Kid told him reaching out to squeeze the hand resting on the pillow.

"H-hurts..." Heyes muttered, hoarsely, still without opening his eyes.

"I know." the Kid replied, gruffly.

The Kid sat with Heyes all morning, offering words of comfort and encouragement as he coughed and vomited the smoke out of his lungs, disposing of the soiled towels and replacing them with fresh ones, mopping the spit from his mouth and bathing his fevered brow.  Heyes seemed comforted by his presence, although it was obvious that he wasn't coherent enough yet to know just who it was.

The Kid insisted that the doctor go and get some sleep while he kept an eye on Heyes.

At first the doctor refused, but, when the Kid pointed out that he couldn't go another day and night without sleep, he agreed to take a nap on the cot the Kid had slept on the previous night, on the condition that he woke him immediately if he was needed.

The Kid agreed, and the doctor gratefully retired, with instructions for him to wake him at three o'clock.

Heyes seemed to become a little more lucid as the day wore on, becoming aware of who it was sitting at his bedside and gratefully squeezing his hand, although he was unable to sustain anything but the briefest responses to his conversations as he battled against the pain and sickness that consumed him.

The Kid went to wake the doctor at three o'clock. After he'd washed and changed, and had something to eat, he then went to check on his other two patients, who he decided were now fit enough to go home,  before coming back and telling the Kid that he was going to attempt to bathe and re-dress Heyes' burns.

"It's not going to be a very pleasant experience."  he told the Kid. "You may not wish to be present."

"It's O.K. I'll stay." said the Kid.

The doctor nodded acknowledgement and the Kid followed him into Heyes' room.

"Joshua?" the doctor called. "Can you hear me?"

"Mmm." Heyes muttered in response.

"Joshua, I'm going to have to bathe the burns on your back and change the dressings." the doctor told him.  "Now, it's going to hurt, but I have to do it to prevent you getting an infection.  I'll be as quick and as gentle as I can. O.K?"

"Mmm." Heyes muttered again.

However, as soon as the doctor began to remove the dressings, Heyes began to squeal with pain.  Even made of smooth cotton, they had still stuck to the blistered flesh in places, and even though the doctor was careful, not wanting to risk bursting any of the blisters, it still felt like being skinned alive to Heyes, as he gently peeled them off, the damaged skin hypersensitive.

"No... no... please..." pleaded Heyes, his hand clawing at the pillow that supported his arm.  He tried to wriggle away, but was unable to move.

"Hang in there." the Kid soothed as Heyes pressed his face into the pillow, groaning with pain.  "It won't be long, and you'll feel better after."

The doctor removed the last of the dressings and allowed Heyes a few minutes to recover before continuing.

The Kid grimaced at the raw burns on his back and arm.  He had burnt his hand, relatively mildly in comparison, some years before, and that had hurt like hell, so he couldn't begin to imagine how much pain Heyes must be in from those.

The doctor fetched a bowl of tepid water and poured a few drops of liquid, from a phial, into the water.  "This will help to anaesthetise the skin." he told the Kid, before beginning to gently dab at the area.

As he touched him however, Heyes let out a howl of agony that made the Kid jump.

"No..." he gasped.  "Stop ...stop..." He buried his face in the pillow, his hand clawing desperately at the pillow supporting his arm. 

The Kid took his hand and held it tightly.

"It won't be long." he soothed. "Hang in there."

Heyes' howls of pain got louder as the doctor progressed with his task, begging for him to stop and beginning to sob into the pillow.

The Kid couldn't stand any more and, letting go of Heyes' hand, got to his feet and hurried out of the room, an anguished expression on his face.

The doctor finished tending the burns and applied fresh dressings.

"It's O.K.  It's over now." he told Heyes, who remained with his face pressed into the pillow, whimpering softly.  "Just relax and try and get some sleep, and you'll feel better later."  He then went to dispose of the soiled dressings and to look for the Kid, who was seated in the main office, his elbows on his knees his hands clasped under his chin, an anguished look on his face.

"Are you alright?" the doctor asked him.

The Kid dropped his hands and lifted his shoulders in a shrug.  "I just wish there was something I could do to ease his suffering." he said, his voice hoarse.

The doctor nodded. 

 "Why don't you go and get something to eat." he suggested. "You've been hanging around here all day."

The Kid sighed.  "I guess I could." he muttered.

He left the doctor's office and went over to the restaurant to get a meal. 

Since the saloon was virtually destroyed, the owners had enterprisingly set up a temporary venue in an empty building further along the main street, transporting what liquor, glasses and gaming equipment, that hadn't been destroyed in the fire, up there, and some of the locals had managed to get a poker game under way while others propped up the makeshift bar. 

After he'd eaten, the Kid went over to join them, feeling in need of a stiff drink after the events of the last sixteen hours.  He felt bad about insisting they remain in Porterville instead of going straight to Cheyenne as Heyes had suggested.  If they had done that, they wouldn't have been involved in the fire, and Heyes wouldn't have got hurt.

After a few scotches, the Kid returned to the doctor's office where the doctor was checking Heyes' chest with his stethoscope.

"What happened to the girl Joshua rescued, doc?" the Kid asked presently.

"She had a broken wrist and a mild concussion, but otherwise, she's fine." said the doctor. "I think all those underskirts those ladies wear broke her fall." he added with a grin.

"Well, that's something at least." said the Kid.  "If the girl had died, then all Joshua's suffering would have been for nothing."

The doctor nodded. "She wanted to thank Joshua for saving her." he said.  "I told her to leave it for a few days, until he's a little stronger."

"Maybe you should have let her see him," said the Kid "so she'd know the sacrifice he made to rescue her."

The doctor raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

"Listen, doc," The Kid said now, noticing how weary the doctor looked, even after his nap earlier." you look bushed.  If you want to go home and get some sleep, I'll watch Joshua.  He's not in any danger now is he?"

"Not now, no." said the doctor.  "But I wouldn't feel right, leaving him."

"Nonsense." the Kid cut in.  "You need some sleep.  You worked all through last night and most of today.  You can't keep that up."

"I could do bit a bit of a break." the doctor conceded.

"Go." the Kid told him. "If I need you for anything I can come and get you.  It's only a few minutes to your house isn't it?"

The doctor nodded.  "Well... alright."  He reluctantly agreed, before proceeding to bombard the Kid with instructions on what to do if Heyes' temperature should rise or fall, or if he was sick, or took a turn for the worse.

"Doc, doc..." the Kid interrupted him. "...I'll be fine."

"Yes, of course." smiled the doctor.  Putting on his coat, he bid him goodnight. "Don't hesitate to fetch me if you need to." he repeated.

"Yes, doc." smiled the Kid, ushering him out of the door.

After he'd gone, the Kid settled himself down to watch Heyes, eyeing him with concern.  He seemed restless and was whimpering and groaning in his sleep.  It wasn't surprising, the Kid mused.  He had to be in agony from the burns and fractures.  He guessed he still felt it even while sleeping.

He reached out a hand and placed it against Heyes' forehead. "No fever at least." he said, out loud.

He sat by Heyes' bedside reading through the day's newspaper that the doctor had left behind.

Heyes grew increasingly restless, and, finally, just after ten o'clock, woke up with a groan of pain.

The Kid put down the paper and leaned closer to Heyes, taking hold of his hand as he turned the lamp up a little more.

"Heyes?" he called softly.

Heyes opened his eyes two or three times before managing to keep them open, focussing on the Kid's face a couple of feet away from him.

"K-Kid..." he croaked, then groaned, screwing up his face and gripping the Kid's hand, as pain washed over him

"Try and relax." the Kid told him.

"It ...hurts..." croaked Heyes.  "Wh-what ...happened?"

"Do you remember the fire?" asked the Kid.

After a moment, Heyes nodded, biting his lip in pain.

"You went back to rescue that girl."

Heyes nodded again.

"The staircase gave way beneath you and you both fell.  You broke your arm in two places, your collar bone, fractured three ribs, dislocated your shoulder and burnt your back and arm.  You got a pretty nasty concussion too, and you inhaled a lot of smoke. "

"Th-the ...girl...?" gasped Heyes.

"She's O.K.  Just a broken wrist and concussion." the Kid told him. "She wanted to visit you, to thank you, but the doctor told her you weren't well enough to see visitors yet."

Heyes closed his eyes.

"Are you warm enough?" the Kid asked.

Heyes nodded, breaking into a fit of coughing, groaning as the movement pulled on his injured ribs and collar bone, compounding the pain already wracking his body.

"Oh, God ...that ...hurts ..." he croaked when he'd recovered his breath. A single tear slid from the corner of his eye to trickle down onto the towel beneath his head, and the Kid wondered if he was sorry he'd gone back to rescue the girl.

"I know." the Kid croaked, squeezing his hand.

He tried to talk to him, to keep his mind off it, but Heyes couldn't seem to concentrate for long as the pain gnawed away at his already fuddled senses.

He asked for some water, which the doctor had said it was alright to give him a little of, and the Kid gave him some from a canteen, which was easier for him to drink from since he was unable to sit up.

Half an hour later, he was consumed by another violent fit of coughing and was promptly sick.

The Kid replaced the towel beneath his head and wiped his face, as Heyes lay groaning with pain.

"I-I'm ...sorry..." he ground out, as the Kid dabbed at his face with a damp cloth.

"Don't be silly. You can't help it." the Kid told him. "Your chest is full of smoke and you need to get it out.  Just lie still and try and relax." he added, beginning to cough himself.

"D-did you... get hurt?"  Heyes croaked.

"No, just singed ankles and a bit of smoke in my lungs, that's all.  I'm fine."

"My ...neck's stiff." Heyes muttered, as the Kid returned from disposing of the soiled towel.

"Let me move this pillow." said the Kid.  Gently, he lifted Heyes' head and removed the pillow he was lying on, folding the towel into three and placing it beneath him.

"Better?" he enquired.

Heyes nodded.  "Thanks." he muttered.

Heyes drifted off to sleep, briefly, but was rudely awakened, forty five minutes later, by another fit of coughing, so violent that the Kid was worried he would have a seizure, his eyes streaming and his face red as he fought to get his breath between gut wrenching coughs.

The Kid sat, holding his hand, cursing his uselessness, wishing there was something he could do to help him.

"I know it hurts, but it'll pass soon." the Kid soothed, as the coughing fit subsided. "Just hang in there."

Heyes' only reply was to squeeze the hand that held his as he lay there, eyes closed, his whole body throbbing with pain.

Gradually, he drifted into a restless sleep, giving periodic moans of pain, an anguished frown creasing his brow."  The Kid looked at his watch.  It was almost midnight.  Almost twenty four hours since their escape from the burning saloon.

He got up and quietly left the room, going outside onto the boardwalk for a breath of fresh air.  Even now, he could still smell the fire in the air.

After several minutes, he returned to Heyes' bedside, placing a hand on his forehead to test his temperature before pulling the covers, which he'd shaken off during his coughing fit, more closely around him.  He then sat back down on the chair and, propping one elbow on the edge of the bed, rested his head on his hand, intending to put on a pot of coffee in half an hour or so to help him stay awake.

He wasn't aware of falling asleep until Heyes groaned and moved his hand, banging it against the Kid's arm and jolting him awake.

"Mmm ... wha...?" He jumped, looking around him in confusion.  Then, remembering where he was, he took out his watch.  It was almost one thirty.  He put it away and bent to check on Heyes.  He was deeply asleep now, his lips slightly parted, his breathing even, but very wheezy, and the Kid guessed that he would be woken by another coughing fit before the night was over.

Stretching, he got to his feet and went out into the front office to make some coffee, on the small stove the doctor kept there, and carried a cup back into Heyes' room.

He drank it, hoping it would help him stay alert, but soon began to doze in the chair once more.

He woke, some time later, worried by the rattling sound Heyes was making as he breathed.  He leaned forward to check on him.  He was still deeply asleep, his mouth open, causing him to dribble slightly.  The Kid took a cloth and gently wiped his mouth, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes.

The Kid wasn't aware of falling asleep again until he was woken just after four thirty by Heyes coughing.  Blinking to focus his senses, he leaned across the bed and put his hand over Heyes'.

"It's O.K." he reassured him, as Heyes woke up, gasping for air.  He tried to speak, but couldn't get enough breath, coughing until the Kid thought he would choke before finally being violently sick.

The Kid cleaned him up and placed a fresh towel beneath his head.  Heyes was still coughing, although not as severely as before, and now had hiccups.

The Kid fetched the canteen of water and lifted his head for him to sip from it.

Heyes tried to thank him, but choked on the words.

"Throat sore?" asked the Kid.

Heyes nodded, closing his eyes and swallowing with an effort.

The Kid put aside the canteen and, taking the corner of the towel, dabbed at the tears on his cheeks, caused by the violence of the coughing fit and the pain it had caused to his injured ribs and collar bone, while Heyes just lay there, eyes closed, too dazed and weary to even respond as the Kid asked "Do you feel better now?" "Are you comfortable?" "Are you warm enough?"  "Do you need anything?"  just giving a vague nod or shake of the head in reply.

The Kid left the room to dispose of the soiled towels and cloths.  When he returned a few minutes later, Heyes was fast asleep once more.

The Kid bent over him, worried for a brief moment, that he might have passed out, or worse, but his pulse was regular, and his breathing even. 

Heyes slept peacefully for the remainder of the night, and was still asleep when the doctor arrived at eight thirty the next morning.

The Kid was just brewing coffee as the doctor entered.

"Morning." the Kid smiled at him.  "You must have smelt the coffee."

"Morning." the doctor replied.  He looked much more refreshed after a full night's sleep in his own bed.  "I'd love one."

The Kid poured two cups and put one on the doctor's desk while he hung up his coat.

"How's Joshua?" he asked, as he returned and picked up the cup.

"He had a pretty rough night." the Kid told him.  "He was sick a few times, and had some really violent coughing fits, but his chest seems a little bit clearer now.  He's sleeping at the moment."

"Good." said the doctor, setting down the cup and heading towards Heyes' room to check on him.

The Kid went to wash before following him.

"Are you alright?" asked the doctor as he entered the room coughing.

"I'm fine." said the Kid, patting his chest and clearing his throat.

The doctor approached, with his stethoscope, and, despite his protests, listened to his chest.

"Well?" the Kid asked, irritably.

"Not too bad." said the doctor.  "There's still some smoke in your lungs, but nothing too serious.  Just keep trying to cough it up."

"Yeah." the Kid replied, not really listening, more concerned with Heyes' wellbeing than his own.

The doctor eyed him worriedly.  He looked drawn. The fire had shaken him up more than he was prepared to admit, and worrying about his friend's injuries and spending disturbed nights at his bedside weren't helping.  He needed to get some proper rest.

"How's Joshua?" the Kid asked now, eyeing Heyes' sleeping form.  His face looked a more healthy colour now, and his breathing was even, although still raspy. He looked so cosy, and almost childlike, swathed in the blankets the doctor had wrapped him in, that the Kid, still tired after his two disturbed nights, almost envied the peaceful comfort of his sleep, until he remembered what he had to wake up to.

"He's doing O.K." the doctor told him.

Satisfied that Heyes was alright, the Kid gathered what clothes of his and Heyes' that hadn't been damaged in the fire and took them over to the laundry to get them cleaned, making a mental note to go into town the next day and get himself a new pair of pants, to replace his singed ones, and a new shirt for Heyes, to replace the one ruined by the burning timber. He then went across the street to the restaurant to get some breakfast before going back to the doctor's, who insisted that he take a nap in one of the empty rooms vacated by his other patients.  He woke two hours later feeling a little more refreshed.

Heyes slept until just after noon, almost a full eight hours, the longest he'd slept in one stretch since the fire.

The Kid was seated by his bedside reading the day's newspaper over a cup of coffee when Heyes sighed and his eyes fluttered open.

The Kid turned to look at him.

"Hey, sleepyhead.  How're you doin'?" he asked with a smile.

"Kid..." Heyes croaked, managing a weak smile.

"I thought you were gonna sleep all day." teased the Kid, putting down his coffee cup and turning to face him.

Heyes looked confused, having no idea what time it was, or how long he'd been there.

"Wh-wha..." he tried to speak, but had to stop to clear his throat.

"What ... time is it?" he managed finally, his voice sounding hoarse after all his coughing and vomiting the previous night.

"It's just after noon." replied the Kid.

Heyes nodded.  "How ...long ...have I ...been here?"

"The fire was the early hours of yesterday morning." the Kid said, watching him as he tried to flex his aching body, grimacing as pain washed over him.

"How do you feel?" the Kid asked presently.

Heyes tried to shrug, but gave up with a moan as the movement pulled the raw skin on his back and sent a shaft of pain through his collar bone..

"I've ...been... better." he croaked, in a feeble attempt at humour.  In truth, he felt like death warmed up.    Apart from the pain of his broken bones and the burns on his back, his whole body was bruised, from the fall, and stiff, from lying immobile in bed, his head ached and felt muzzy, and his throat and chest hurt from all the coughing and retching he'd been doing. The smoke in his lungs made him feel sick and breathless, but breathing anything but the shallowest of breaths was agony and so he constantly felt as though he was suffocating. "I feel like ...a horse ...trampled ...all over me." he added.

The Kid chuckled.

"I'll go tell the doc you're awake." he said, disappearing from Heyes' line of vision, to return a few moments later with the doctor, who examined him thoroughly before asking him if he wanted to try a little food.

"I don't know..." croaked Heyes.  "I don't... feel hungry ...and my throat hurts."

The doctor nodded sympathetically.  "It's just a little soup." he told him. "You need something to build your strength up."

Heyes gave a vague nod, not caring one way or the other.

The doctor fetched a bowl of soup and carefully spooned a few mouthfuls to him, breaking up a few pieces of bread to go with it.  Afterwards, he explained to him about the injuries he'd sustained, now that he was coherent enough to understand him.

"It's too early to say how much, if any, scarring there'll be." he told him, as he explained about the burns and how long they might take to heal.

Heyes just nodded, his face showing no reaction one way or the other, still too muzzy from the concussion to fully comprehend the doctor's words.

"You rest a while, and then I'll change the dressings." the doctor told him, getting up and leaving him and the Kid alone to talk."

"Was the... saloon destroyed?" Heyes asked presently.

"Pretty much." replied the Kid. "The top two floors certainly." He sighed.  "All our stuff is gone."

Heyes raised his eyebrows resignedly.  They hadn't had much to lose, only their spare clothes, saddlebags and Heyes' watch, which he'd left on the dresser in their room - fortunately, their saddles had been left at the livery - not worth  much financially, but it was still depressing to lose them.

"You ...got out O.K?"  You weren't ...hurt?" Heyes asked presently, not seeming to remember he'd already asked him the previous night.

"Yeah." the Kid nodded. "Just a bit of smoke inhalation. I'm fine."

"Good." croaked Heyes, and then broke into a fit of coughing, not quite as severe as the previous night, but enough to bring tears of pain to his eyes as the movement wrenched his painful ribs and collar bone and pulled the raw skin on his back.

"Take it easy." said the Kid, fetching a canteen and lifting his head in order for him to drink from it.

"Thanks." croaked Heyes, when he'd taken a few mouthfuls, his breathing still ragged.

The Kid picked up the corner of the towel beneath his head and dabbed at the tears on his cheeks.

"Just relax and try and breathe slowly." he told him.

Heyes closed his eyes, a frown of pain creasing his brow.

The Kid sat back down on the chair by the bed, watching him anxiously for several minutes.   When he began breathing easier, the Kid picked up the newspaper once again.

A few minutes later he said "Hey, what do you know? Bill Burton got caught trying to rob the First National Bank in Denver." in reference to an old associate of theirs.

"Mmm?" Heyes muttered, without opening his eyes.  Then, several minutes later, after the information had seeped into his brain, he opened them and asked. "Does it say ...what kind of ...safe it was?"

The Kid turned to look at him with a grin. "A ...P & H '78."

Heyes' smile was weak, but the spark of amusement that lit in his eyes more than made up for it.  Renowned for his safe breaking abilities, the P & H '78 had almost beaten Heyes. It had taken several failed attempts before he had finally come up with a formula for blowing one.  So far, he was the only person to have succeeded in the task.  Bill Burton was not the most intelligent of outlaws.  Anything requiring more thought than a stick of dynamite to open was beyond him.

The Kid returned his attention to the paper, making periodic comments on the day's news.  When he next looked at Heyes, he had fallen asleep again.

"I didn't think it was that boring." he muttered. Shaking his head to himself, he put down the paper and, quietly leaving the room, he headed out to get a bite to eat and pick up their clothes from the laundry.

Back at the doctor's office, he changed back into his own clothes, promising the doctor he would have the clothes he had loaned him laundered the next day.

"Don't worry about it." smiled the doctor. "My wife will take care of it."

Heyes slept fitfully for most of the afternoon, being woken periodically by violent fits of coughing.

At six o'clock, the doctor came in and told Heyes that he needed to change the dressings and bathe his burns.

"Do you have to?" croaked Heyes.

The doctor nodded. "I'm afraid so.  I know it's painful, but we have to avoid the risk of infection.

Heyes didn't reply, his body rigid, in anticipation, as the doctor moved to begin the task.

Heyes yelped with pain as the doctor gently removed the dressings, biting his lip as he tried to control it, but when the doctor began to treat the burns he could not longer contain it.

"No... stop... please..." he begged, flinching away every time the doctor touched him.

"Try to keep still Joshua." soothed the doctor.  "You'll just make it worse."

"Please... stop..." Heyes pressed his face into the folded up towel he was using as a pillow, his body tensed up in anticipation of the doctor's touch, moaning with pain despite his best efforts to keep silent, while the Kid hovered at the foot of the bed, wishing he could do something to ease his suffering.

"There, all done." The doctor said presently.  "I know it's painful, but each day it'll get easier." Heyes made no reply, his face pressed into the pillow. "You take a few minutes to relax and then we'll have some supper." he told him, taking the basin and soiled dressings and leaving the room.

With a glance at Heyes, the Kid followed.

"I'll go and get us some supper from the restaurant." the Kid said, as the doctor cleared away and put on a pot of coffee.

The doctor nodded and the Kid left, returning fifteen minutes later with a serving of stew.

The doctor split the stew into three portions while the Kid poured coffee.  He and the doctor ate theirs in the outer office, before the Kid took Heyes' portion into his room, where he spooned it to him.  Heyes managed about half of the portion before shaking his head as the Kid offered him another spoonful.

"Sure you can't manage any more?" the Kid asked.

Heyes shook his head, not looking at him.

"Drink?" the Kid enquired.

Heyes shook his head again.

The Kid took a sip of his coffee before saying "How are you feeling now?"

Heyes closed his eyes and tried to shrug, but gave up, with a grimace, as pain shot through his fractured collar bone.

"Terrible." he croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The Kid stared at him.  They'd both been sick and injured many times, but the Kid didn't think he'd ever seen Heyes look as sick, or as despondent, as he was now.

"Does it ...look as bad ...as it feels?" Heyes asked presently, in reference to the burns on his back and arm.

The Kid stared at him momentarily.  He couldn't tell him it wasn't bad, Heyes knew better, but he didn't want to tell him how bad it looked.

Presently he said "I don't know.  I've never seen anyone burned before, so I don't know what looks bad.  But, it looks ...painful." he finished.

Heyes eyed him, obviously trying to read between his words.

"The doc says you're doing fine." the Kid continued.  "But its gonna be a while before you'll be able to bear any clothes on your back."

Heyes merely nodded, thoughtfully. 

"What... time... is it?" he asked presently.

"There you go again." the Kid smiled, shaking his head.  "I've never know anyone so keen to know the time all the while." he teased gently. "It's nearly eight o'clock." 

Heyes gave a vague nod, trying to work out how long he'd been lying here.  It seemed like forever.  He vaguely remembered the Kid telling him the fire had been in the early hours of the previous morning.  But had that been today, or yesterday?

A few moments later, he was consumed with another coughing fit.

The doctor, hearing him, came in to check on him, as Heyes coughed until he could barely get his breath, his eyes streaming and his face red as he fought, for air, and against the pain wracking his body.

Once he'd recovered, the Kid gave him some water, while the doctor put on his stethoscope to listen to his chest.

"Oh, God..." Heyes groaned, despairingly, after he'd drunk the water.

"Just relax, and try and get some rest." the Kid told him.

Exhausted, Heyes closed his eyes, and the Kid followed the doctor out to the main office.

"How's his chest?" he asked him.

"Not too bad." the doctor replied.  "He's still got a lot of smoke and phlegm, but not as much as before. But, obviously, coughing it up is a painful exercise given his injuries."

Just then, the door opened, and Lom walked in.  The Kid could tell by his expression that he was furious about them not attending the meeting, and was probably expecting some feeble excuse for them not turning up.

"Evening, Lom." the doctor greeted him.

"Doc." Lom nodded acknowledgment to the doctor before turning to the Kid. "Thaddeus." he said, his voice hard.

"Lom." the Kid nodded a greeting.

"I got your wire." Lom said now.

The Kid sighed, and gave a helpless shrug.

Lom turned to the doctor now.  "Will you excuse us for a moment." he told him before nodding to the Kid to follow him outside onto the boardwalk, not wanting the doctor to hear their conversation.

Once outside, the Kid said "I'm sorry we couldn't come to Cheyenne, Lom, but Heyes was hurt."

"So you said.  But you're not hurt." Lom growled, looking him up and down.  "Couldn't you have come alone?  You know how important it is."

The Kid shook his head.  "I couldn't leave him."

"Why not?  What happened?" he demanded.

"In case you hadn't noticed," the Kid began, cuttingly. "there was a fire, at the saloon."

"So my deputy tells me." said Lom "But I've not been to have a look yet." he added. He'd only got back from Cheyenne an hour ago, and, after stopping off at his office to check in with his deputy, had come straight to the doctor's office which was in the opposite direction to the saloon.  "But what does that have to do with anything?"

The Kid sighed.  "The hotel was full when we arrived on Saturday - some banking convention or other - so we had to get a room in the saloon." he told him.

"Go on." said Lom.

"Our room was on the top floor.  I woke up in the middle of the night and the place was on fire.  We couldn't go out the window from that height, so we had to fight our way through the smoke and flames to get down the stairs.   We'd just got to the first floor landing, when we heard screams from inside one of the rooms - one of the saloon girls was trapped.  Heyes went back to rescue her.  As he was carrying her downstairs, the staircase collapsed underneath them and they fell."

Lom's eyes widened in shocked surprise.

"Part of the banister fell on him and burnt his back and arm." the Kid continued.  "He dislocated his shoulder, broke his arm, in two places, three ribs and his collar bone. He also had a severe concussion and, because he gave his bandanna to the girl, to protect her face, he breathed in a lot of smoke." He sighed. "He's been in a pretty bad way."

Lom said nothing, but his eyes registered concern.

"There was no way I was leaving him just to come to some meeting." the Kid said now.

Lom sighed.  "It wasn't just ‘some meeting'." he told him.  "The Governor was all set to grant you the amnesty.  That's why he wanted to see you both in person.  He was furious to be stood up."

"Did you tell him why we didn't come?"

Lom nodded. "Yes, but he didn't believe me. He's not in the mood to even discuss it right now. He said to forget the whole thing.  Whether he'll change his mind, when he cools down, I don't know."

The Kid sighed, gazing past Lom's shoulder to some point in the distance, feeling even more guilty now.  Not only was he responsible for Heyes getting hurt, but also for them missing the chance of getting the amnesty.

Lom eyed him.  He looked pale and there was a pinched look to his face that gave testimony to his anxiety about what had happened.

"Can I see him?" Lom asked now.

The Kid returned from his thoughts and nodded, turning back towards the door.

Lom followed him inside as the Kid led the way to Heyes' room.

They entered and made their way quietly to Heyes' bedside.  He was asleep again now, lips parted, his breathing wheezy.  A frown creased his brow and as Lom looked down at him he could see dark shadows of fatigue under his eyes, which stood out in contrast against the paleness of his face.  There was a cut on his forehead around which a dark bruise glared.  He noted the dressings on his back and arm, which rested on a pillow, and the splint that ran the full length of his right arm.

He lifted his anxious gaze to look at the Kid, who raised his eyebrows in a resigned shrug.  "I told you he's been in a bad way." he told him.

After another glance at Heyes, Lom followed the Kid back out to the main office.

"How long will he be laid up?" Lom asked the doctor.

The doctor shrugged. "The fractures will take around six weeks to heal." he told him. "But he should be able to get up in a day or so, now that the effects of the concussion are beginning to subside, although it will take him quite a while to expel the smoke he's inhaled, and it's going to be some time before he'll be able to bear any clothes on his back."

"Will they scar?" Lom asked.

"It's too early to say yet." the doctor replied. "If so, hopefully not too much. The burns are quite deep but haven't penetrated the full thickness of the skin. If the blisters don't break they should heal without much, if any, scarring."

Lom nodded, thoughtfully.

The Kid turned to the doctor now. "Listen, doc, why don't you get off home.  I'll stay with Joshua."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" the doctor replied, somewhat doubtfully.

"No.  There's no point both in us being here all night.  You go and get some sleep."

"Well, alright, if you're sure."

After the doctor had left, Lom said "Have you been sleeping here nights?"

The Kid nodded, moving to put on a pot of coffee. "I didn't have anywhere else to go. The saloon's destroyed and the hotel is full.  The doc was exhausted after treating everyone from the fire - he worked all through Saturday night and most of yesterday - so I told him to go home last night and I would look after Heyes."

Lom nodded, thoughtfully.  "Have you eaten?" he said presently.

The Kid nodded.  "We had something from the restaurant, earlier."

"Well I haven't, so I'll go and get something."

"O.K." replied the Kid, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Do you need anything?" Lom asked, as he headed to the door.

The Kid looked at him. Did he need anything? Where would he like him to start? There were lots of things he needed, none of which Lom, or anyone, could provide. He needed new belongings, to replace those lost in the fire, he needed for Heyes to get well, he needed to apologise for being too stubborn to follow Heyes' advice to head straight on to Cheyenne instead of staying here, but most of all he needed to make up for what his cantankerousness had cost them - the possibility of the amnesty.  But all he said was

"No thanks, I'm fine."

Lom nodded, seeing the turmoil in his eyes.

"I'll be back later." he said, before going out of the door.

The Kid took his cup of coffee and went back into Heyes' room.  He sat down by the bed, eyeing Heyes as he sipped the coffee, wondering how to tell him that they'd missed the opportunity of getting the amnesty, and all because of him.  He felt terrible about the way he'd behaved.  If he hadn't got on his high horse, they'd be in Cheyenne now, maybe even free men.

An hour and a half later, Heyes was woken by another violent coughing fit, his face red, as he fought to get his breath, involuntary tears of pain sliding from his eyes.  Just breathing was painful, coughing was unbearable agony.

"It's O.K. It'll pass in a minute." the Kid soothed, holding his hand, sounding calm and comforting, although, in reality, he was terrified that Heyes would choke to death, or have some sort of seizure, before he recovered.

Just then, Lom entered the room, stopping in his tracks when he saw what was going on.

Slowly, he approached the bed, as the Kid said to Heyes. "Try and relax, and breathe slowly."

Heyes tried to say something in reply, but couldn't, the words lost as he continued to cough, violently, before being sick once more.

The Kid removed the soiled towel from beneath his head and replaced it with another one before taking Heyes' hand once more. Heyes continued coughing, but less severely, clinging onto the Kid's hand and groaning in pain. 

"Relax." the Kid said again, dabbing at the tears on his face with the corner of the towel while Heyes lay there, eyes closed, a frown of pain creasing his brow, all of his concentration directed towards keeping his breathing smooth and fighting down the urge to cough.

The Kid looked up at Lom, standing on the other side of the bed. He looked shocked and the Kid lifted his shoulders in an "I tried to tell you." gesture.

"Better?" the Kid enquired presently, as he felt Heyes' grip on his hand relax slightly.

Heyes gave a vague nod, his eyes still closed.

"Lom's here." the Kid told him now, nodding to Lom to approach.

Lom skirted the bed to put himself in Heyes' line of vision.

Heyes looked at Lom through half closed eyes.

"Lom..." he croaked, his throat raw from coughing.

Lom smiled. "What's this I hear about you becoming the local hero?" he said gently.

Heyes raised his eyebrows in a wry shrug.  "Wasn't ...intentional..." he croaked, choking on the words.

Lom smiled at him as the Kid fetched a canteen and gave him some water.

"Th-thanks..." muttered Heyes.

"Now, try and get some sleep." the Kid told him. "Lom'll be by to see you tomorrow."

Heyes obediently closed his eyes, and, when his breathing had regulated, the Kid got up and moved out to the main office, Lom quietly following.

The Kid sank down onto the leather chair behind the doctor's desk and, putting his elbows on the desktop, dropped his head into his hands.

"Are you alright?" Lom asked, worriedly.

The Kid raked his hands up through his hair, and gave a deep sigh, before nodding.

"Listen, if you want to get some sleep, I don't mind staying to keep an eye on him." Lom told him.

"It's O.K, Lom.  He'll probably sleep for the rest of the night now." the Kid told him.

"I'll be fine.  You get off home."  He knew Lom had been travelling most of the day, and didn't want to keep him up.

"Are you sure?" asked Lom, eyeing him anxiously. "You look bushed."

"I'm alright." the Kid replied dismissively. It wasn't the lack of sleep that was bothering him so much as what Heyes would say when he knew what had happened in Cheyenne.

"Well, alright." said Lom. "But tomorrow night you can stay at my place." he told him firmly. "Kid?" he questioned, when the Kid continued to stare blankly at the wall, lost in thought.

The Kid returned from his reverie and looked at him. "Mmm?" he muttered, questioningly.

"I said, tomorrow night you can stay at my place."

The Kid gave a half nod but didn't reply.

"Lock this door after me, and I'll see you tomorrow." Lom told him, moving towards the door.

The Kid got up and followed him.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you when I arrived." Lom said as he opened the door.

"It's O.K, Lom." the Kid replied, his expression shuttered.  "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Goodnight."

" ‘night." replied the Kid before closing the door and locking it.