'Not the man I thought he was '

Heyes and Curry are on the run from another posse, and decide to split up, with dangerous consequences for both of them. They come to realize how much they depend on one another.

Work Text:

'Not the man I thought he was.'

The horses stood, heads down, flanks heaving, coated with white froth from the last hour’s exertion. The two men on their backs weren’t fairing much better. Sweat trickled down their faces, stinging their eyes, bodies aching from constant riding of the last three days.

“They’re still coming ain’t they?” enquired the dark haired man, as he wet his bandana with a little water, wiping his face, and the back of his neck, and swallowing deeply from his canteen. The other man didn’t respond, he didn’t have to, they both knew the answer. Hannibal Heyes tied his bandana around his head and gathered the reins. He looked across at Kid Curry who sat motionless on his horse, staring into the distance in the direction from which they had just ridden. An ominous cloud of dust rose from the valley below.

“Got any bright ideas, Heyes?” Kid asked quietly. They had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to lose the posse, that had been tailing them and still they came. Both men were beginning to feel physically and mentally exhausted, and were fast running out of ideas on what to do in a bid to escape. They both knew what the next step was, but neither wanted to say it out loud. It was always the last resort.

Finally Heyes said “Guess it’s time to try splitting up.”

“Yep, guess it is.” responded Kid. “Which way you want to head?”

Heyes pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “Reckon I could head East and swing round behind them. How about you head across to the ridge and through the pass and meet me in Twin Falls in a couple of days?”

Kid knew Heyes had given him the easier ride, with less chance of being caught, and was grateful for that. He felt worn to the bone and was unsure how much more of this chase he could endure. He also felt concern for his partner. Although confident that Heyes’ quick mind and able riding skills would keep him one jump ahead of even this posse, he wouldn‘t be there to watch his back.

“If you think it’s the best way, Heyes, I’m happy to go with that,” replied Kid.

They looked at each other with understanding, knowing neither of them was really happy with the situation. Briefly they shook hands before turning their horses to their designated destinations. Heyes gave an inward sigh of resignation before heeling his horse forward. He knew he was in for a tricky time. This posse was good. Very good. For the last few days he had sensed a despondency in Kid that was unusual. Nothing had been said, he just felt it. Usually Kid was right along side him, taking equal responsibility for their situation. But this time, Heyes had felt, well, as though he was just giving up. That was why he had given him the easier route, taking the tougher ride himself. For once Kid hadn’t been stubborn and argued with him, which in itself was unusual. Heyes decided that when they got to Twin Falls he would have to talk to Kid and find out what was bothering him. But first he had to get there.

In the meantime, Kid Curry headed towards an outcrop of rocks which concealed a narrow pass through to the next valley. He’d ridden this way a few times before. It would be harder for the posse to track him over the dry, stony ground and up the narrow paths. Guilt hit him, for a moment, as he thought about his partner, and the hard ride that faced him, but he drew a sharp breath and kicked his horse up a steeper incline, trying not to think about it too much. He smiled, slightly, to himself that, for once, Heyes had not suggested tossing a coin - that coin- for which route to take. Curry had always had suspicions about the fairness of the coin toss - it always seemed to land in his partner’s favour!

His train of thought was suddenly broken by the realisation that he was being followed. Reining in his horse, he turned in his saddle to check his back trail. He let out a soft moan when he saw the five riders following his tracks. Luck was obviously still on Heyes’ side - coin or no coin. He urged his horse forward, aware that the animal was not responding as quickly as usual. He began to calculate in his head whether to lead the posse a merry dance through the rocks or head directly for the pass. Chances were that they probably could guess at his chosen route, and knew where he was headed. He chose the latter course of action, steering his horse towards an out crop of rocks.

He felt the horse strain beneath him, with the exertion of the steep climb. He held onto the horn as he negotiated a particularly tricky part of the track. Luckily, the jagged rocks gave him protection from any over enthusiastic member of the posse taking pot-shots at him. ‘That would end the day nicely,’ he thought cynically - a bullet in the leg! Just a few more feet to go and he would get through the pass and be able to pick up speed and head down the hill and put some real distance between him and his pursuers. He reached the last part of the narrow track that led to the pass. As he took the last corner, he stared in disbelief. Where there should have been a gap in the rocks he could only see a pile of rubble. Panic gripped him. The way was blocked by a rock fall. His hand automatically reached for his gun, his impetuous nature taking hold. His knuckles were white with tension as he held the gun butt, drawing a breath. He suddenly felt a calming sensation as he thought of his partner. “What would Heyes do?” he asked himself. “Try and talk himself out of the situation,” was the answer, although not a wholly satisfactory one for Jed Curry!

Kid turned to meet his pursuers. They were coming up the track as fast as the ground would allow. He sat quietly on his horse, breathing deeply to try and keep himself calm. There were five riders approaching. Kid scanned them, looking for the tin star - he couldn’t see one. As they got closer he could see their faces more clearly - this was no posse. They were a ragged bunch, in worn and dirty clothes. Their horses were too thin, and their saddles looked over used. Three held hand guns whilst the other two had rifles - all pointing at him. He contemplated the situation for a moment, considering whether to shoot his way out, but then resigned himself to the fact that he was trapped. The group came to within about ten feet of Kid, and came to a stop.

It took every inch of Kid’s self restraint to appear calm. Inside his heart was thumping and adrenalin was rushing through his body, every instinct was screaming to make a run- straight at them, but he knew how that would end. If he let them take him in at least there was a chance that Heyes would be able to do something, as since no member of the group had followed him, so he should be safely heading to Twin Falls. Reassured by this thought he raised his hands above his head and gave his best resigned smile .The possibility that they might just kill him also crossed his mind.

“Don’t know who you think I am, fellas, but you got me cornered.” Kid thought it was worth a go to try and act the innocent, but had a feeling it wouldn’t have much effect on this bunch.

“We know exactly who you are, so don’t try anything, Mr Curry,” said the sour, faced man at the front of the group. “Just slowly throw your gun down, with your left hand, by the fingertips. Don’t try nothing funny as there’s no place for you to go - but upwards!” The man gave a grin, showing yellow and broken teeth.

Kid did as he was instructed, watching the group before him. They really were a motley crew. One of the men, the one on a pinto, looked familiar, but Kid couldn’t quite place him. Heyes was the one with a memory for faces and places.

The leader’s name was Zeb Machlan, known as Mac. He had spent many years in the army and seen things that no man should see. It had made him hard and cynical. No-one worried for him and in return he cared for no-one. He had spent a short time with an outlaw gang a couple of years previously. One night, when they were celebrating a particularly profitable robbery, one of his fellow gang members had pointed Heyes and Curry out to him in the saloon. All he wanted from life was to live as easily as possible. At this moment Kid Curry offered him that opportunity for a good, long while, living off his share of the $10,000 reward. Zeb Machlan had no belief in the honour among thieves theory.

The four remaining members of the gang consisted of two brothers, Jake and Joe Clements, Tom Willard and a half breed, who was referred to as Quail. This was the man whose tracking ability had led to Kid Curry’s present predicament.

“Get off your horse and keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” Mac commanded.

Kid did as he was told, figuring that it was best to go along with them until an opportunity arose, to attempt escape, if one ever did. He swung his right leg over the back of the saddle and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He then turned, holding his hands high above his head to face the men.

What happened next was totally unexpected. He was aware of a slight movement to his left and instinctively turned towards it. Then came a loud sound and he felt the air rush from his lungs in a gasp. The full force of the bullet hit him in the left shoulder, just below the collar bone. He stood for a second, trying to comprehend what had just happened, then sank to his knees, sitting back on the heels of his well worn boots. A burning sensation shot through his arm. He looked up in disbelief at Joe, who sat still on his horse, six gun smoking in his hand. Kid glared at the man, clutching his injured shoulder.

“What the hell did you do that for, you stupid bastard?” cursed Willard at Joe.

“What’s it matter - he’s worth the same dead or alive?” spat back Joe.

“The matter is Hannibal Heyes is more likely to try and help a live partner than a dead one, and then we’d have $20,000 to split.” came the reply.

In the meantime Jake Clements put his gun back in its holster, got off his horse and strode across to Kid, eyeing the dark, red stain starting to spread across his chest.

“You ain’t dead then?” he smirked. “Lucky for you my brother ain’t much of a shot!”

Quail strode over to join him to look at the figure kneeling on the ground. Roughly he pulled back Kid’s shirt to expose the wound.

“Bullet didn’t go through, it’s still in there.” he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Although he had been riding with this bunch for a couple of months, he knew he was tolerated mostly because his tracking skills. He had known Mac from the army some years before, and when he bumped into him in Cheyenne that day he had been feeling pretty desperate. The offer of a cut on a bounty of this size had been too great a temptation, even though Quail was not comfortable with the way he’d be earning it. Especially since he felt he owed the two outlaws they were chasing a debt of gratitude.

By now, Kid had managed to stagger to his feet, still holding his upper arm. He took a step towards Joe, who immediately shrank back at the look in Kid’s eyes. He raised his gun again, pointing it at Kid, who stood his ground, unwavering. Mac joined the group, sensing that Joe was getting out of his depth, and, before anyone really knew what was happening, struck Kid firmly across the back of the head with his gun butt.

“That should make him a lot easier to take in!” he sneered.

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

As Heyes galloped across the plain he thought he heard a shot. He pulled his horse up and looked in the direction Kid had ridden. He felt the urge to spin around and head back. He didn’t know why he just felt a gut instinct that something wasn’t right. He reasoned with himself that, to hit Kid Curry with just one shot went against the laws of probability. The Kid would be fine. He must be at the pass by now and would soon be heading for Twin Falls to meet up with him. As he continued on his way the feeling of unease stayed with him. ‘He’s fine,’ he kept telling himself.

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

All five men stood around Kid, looking down at him. “Don’t look much like a gunfighter now, do he?” commented Jake.

“Will he live?” enquired Mac of Quail. The half breed’s other talent, luckily for Kid Curry, was tending wounds. During his time tracking for the army he’d helped remove more than his share of bullets from hapless soldiers.

“Not if you go on hitting him like that! Need to take a closer look in that hole,” Quail responded, pointing to the wound in Kid’s chest.

“Hell, I’m not hanging around here while you play nurse maid. Patch him up and load him onto a horse. Let’s head to town before he bleeds to death,” said Mac. “I need a drink!”

The sharp pain in his chest, as he was thrown across a saddle, brought Kid momentarily back to consciousness. He felt like he was spinning and the pain in his head was intense. He could smell the man who roughly tied his hands and feet to the saddle to prevent him slipping off. He heard the deep growl of another man’s voice, obviously unhappy that things weren’t going strictly to plan, and became aware that someone was now grabbing the front of his hair to lift his head. Keeping his eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness, he was surprised when someone held a dampened cloth to his mouth and squeezed water between his parched lips. He showed no response, not sure if this was some sort of trick to bring him round so they could torment him.

“What you doing Quail?” Mac shouted.

At the sound of the man’s voice Kid’s head was quickly released.

“Just checking to see if he’s still breathing.” the man by Curry’s side responded.

Assured that he was, the rest of the men mounted their horses and set off back down the slope that they had climbed only an hour previously. For Kid Curry it felt like a lifetime since he had been riding alongside Heyes. He wondered how his partner was fairing, hoping he was safe. As the horses picked their way down the rocky slope, slipping on loose shingle each movement caused Kid to wish that exhaustion and blood loss would take control and let him pass back into oblivion. His disquiet for his present situation seemed to be keeping him alert - years of watching his and his partner’s back he reasoned.

They rode on until the sun began to slowly sink beyond the horizon. Having to lead a horse with such a precarious cargo had slowed the pace some.

“Can’t we stop for the night, Mac? I’m getting hungry and my backside’s gone numb. We ain’t going to make it to town tonight anyways, and these tracks are way too dangerous to try at night!” complained Jake.

The group stopped and Mac had to agree. “Ok. We’ll stop over there by those trees.”

As Joe got a fire going, Jake saw to the horses. Quail was given responsibility for the prisoner, with a reassurance from Mac that if he died he would be held accountable.

Kid was untied and pulled from the horse, landing heavily on the ground. He let out an involuntary cry as he made contact with the hard surface. Willard unceremoniously dragged him across the ground, roughly pushing him up against a rock. A glow of perspiration covered Kid’s forehead, and he was beginning to shiver as shock began to kick in. Quail resigned himself to the fact that if he was going to keep this man alive he’d have to do something here and now. Mac stood over him as he examined the wound in Kid’s shoulder. Quail moved off to gather what he would need to tend to the wound, while Mac squatted down in front of the Kid and looked him straight in the eye. Kid returned the gaze but felt so weak it didn’t hold its usual menace.

“Where’s your partner headed, Curry?” Mac spat into his face.

Breathing more heavily than usual, Kid kept himself focussed on the man before him, as he tried to ignore the stench from the man’s mouth and block out the intense pain in his exhausted body.

“Don’t know,” was the quiet response.

Mac reached forward, grabbing Kid’s injured shoulder, digging in his fingers. Kid gritted his teeth, managing to stifle the scream of agony that formed in his throat.

“You’d better tell me or things are going to get a whole lot more unpleasant for you.” Mac leaned in even closer, increasing his grip. Kid closed his eyes against the pain.

“What the hell you doing, Mac?” Quail had returned with a knife and water.

“Just having a chat with our friend here.” he answered.

“Well, if you want me to get him sorted you’d best get out the way and let me see to him,” replied Quail.

Mac gave Kid one last push, causing him to fall on his side, and parted, with a kick in his lower back. “Yes sir, a whole lot more nasty!”

“You OK?” Quail said in a low voice as he knelt beside Kid.

Forcing his eyes open, Kid looked up the softly spoken man. “Do I look alright?” he grimaced.

“Hell, no! You look like shit!” Quail manoeuvred him into a slightly more comfortable position. “I’m going to try and get that lump of metal out of you.” he offered.

“Thanks, I’d be grateful,” said Kid, not sure if he really would be. He looked up at the man and again had a flash of recognition. “Do I know you?”

The man’s eyes widened. “No. Why in hell would you? I ain’t scum like you, outlaw.” he said in a more aggressive tone. Kid let it rest at that. It was then that he noticed Joe standing nearby.

“He ain’t dead yet then?” commented Joe.

“Nope. No thanks to you.” It was Kid who answered him, giving a steely stare with his piercing blue eyes. Joe merely smirked and walked off.

“Best get started then. It’s going to hurt like hell and I ain’t got no whiskey either.” Quail told Kid.

“You done this before?” asked Kid.

“Too many times.” was the reply. He opened up the Kid’s shirt, took the knife and placed the point in the wound. Kid gripped loose earth in each of his hands as the stabbing pain shot into him. Quail probed a little deeper and Kid felt himself involuntarily squirming. Quail stopped. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to get some help and get the boys to hold you still.”

Kid grimaced. The further the rest of the gang kept from him, the better he’d like it, but there seemed no alternative.

The other four gang members took too much pleasure in securing Kid’s limbs to the floor as Quail explored inside his shoulder with the knife. Their grip was intense and they laughed at his distress. After some minutes the suffering got too much and Kid slipped into unconsciousness. By then he’d lost even more blood and the wound was a torn and bloody mess, but still Quail had been unable to reach the bullet.

“Tell me again Mac, why we going to all this bother for a man who’s wanted dead or alive ?” asked Willard, now sitting back on his heels since there was no need to hold the injured man any longer, now that he had passed out.

“Because,” Mac replied in a deliberate tone, “if he’s still breathing, his partner’s going to come looking for him. And if we get his partner we get double the reward. We also get one of the most successful outlaw teams in the West at our disposal!” Mac gave a wide grin, giving his fellow gang members the full benefit of his uncared for teeth.

Whilst this conversation was going on, Quail was still probing the wound. Eventually he sat back, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, splattered with Kid Curry’s blood. “I can’t get it. It’s too far in. When you grabbed him earlier you must have pushed the bullet in deeper.”
“Well, dig a little deeper. He ain’t going to be able to complain too much” Mac shouted back at him.

“I’m no surgeon, Mac, and that bullet’s way too deep for me to go prodding around for - unless of course you don’t mind too much if he does die! I’ll patch him up as best I can and then our best chance is to get him into Twin Falls, sooner rather than later. There’s a good doctor there by the name of Philips.” Quail used Kid’s spare shirt to cover the wound, but after all the delving about in his flesh, he could see blood was still seeping through the fabric, staining it red. Quail looked apologetically at his patient.

Mac strode over, cup of coffee in hand.

“Can’t stop the bleeding.” Quail informed the leader.

Mac contemplated this for a short while, not really caring whether Curry did die, but he was keen to get back to town, to claim the reward, as soon as possible. Mac turned to Willard, and told him that when Quail was finished, to make sure Curry was tied securely for the night.

“There’s no need for that, he ain’t going nowhere!” said Quail. Mac merely threw him a look, adding that Willard should put a rope around Kid’s neck and keep hold of it through the night, just in case his partner did decide to show up.

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

Hannibal Heyes scanned the cards in his hands. He looked at them but didn’t really see them. Concentration eluded him, his thoughts regularly drifting back to Kid, as he tried to work out what was a realistic time for him to arrive in town. He reasoned that, after going through the pass, Kid would have had to work his way through the less known trails to evade the posse, if they were still trailing him. Heyes had been more than a little surprised when he had realised that all five men had followed Kid but reassured that he had been able to lose bigger posses than this in the past.

Heyes drained his whiskey and threw in his hand. “That’s enough for me for tonight.” he said to the other players. He pushed back his chair, collected and picked up his winnings, smoothed back his hair, and placed his hat on his head. Unobtrusively he left the saloon and headed back to the hotel.
He was disappointed to find that Kid still hadn’t checked in and his unease returned. He hated having to go back to an empty room on his own. He considered going back to the saloon to find one of the girls to keep him company, but he knew that it wasn’t just anyone’s company he wanted.
“Hell! Where are you Kid?” he suddenly said out loud. He spent a restless night drifting in and out of sleep, hoping - no willing - to hear Kid’s signal knock on the door. It never came.

The morning came and went and still Heyes waited. He passed the time sat on the hotel porch, watching the folks go about their daily business. By this time it was almost noon and there was still no sign. He was just considering his options when he noticed a group of men riding into town. He instantly recognised them as the bunch, who had been trailing him and Kid, but now there were only four and Kid wasn’t one of them. Heyes found himself momentarily letting out a sigh of relief that they obviously hadn’t managed to catch up with him but this led him to wonder just where was the Kid?

He pulled his hat down over his eyes as the group got closer; there was no doubt in his mind that these men could identify him. He’d have to be careful, especially without the Kid there to watch his back. Heyes did what he did best - he waited for the right opportunity to present itself so that he could glean any information that may be useful. In his present state of concern this was not easy.
Luck was still on Heyes’ side when he ran into one of the saloon girls, who was on her way to work the evening shift. She was quite a pretty, strawberry blonde called Rosie, who had been trying to attract Heyes’ attention away from the card game, he‘d been involved in, the previous night.
Heyes had noticed her but was uninterested, thinking she was more Kid’s type than his ! Seeing his opportunity he instantly grabbed it.

“Evening Ma’am !” he said politely, tilting his hat at the girl. She blushed at the handsome, dark, stranger.

“Sorry I didn’t get to meet you last night, I was a little preoccupied.” Heyes said in his deep, soft voice.

“That’s OK.” the girl smiled back at him “Perhaps you can make up for it tonight ?”

Heyes gave her his best smile. “Well, I’d like that, but first I wondered if you could do something for me?”

Rosie hoped that Mr Smith would make up for the fact that she had to spend the evening hanging around the four, rough looking men that he had pointed out to her. They certainly fell a long way short of the dark, handsome man for whom she found herself doing this favour!

When she finished her shift she was delighted to see Mr Smith waiting across the street for her. She strode over to him, swinging her hips provocatively. He gave her a broad smile, touching the front of his black hat with his fingers, before offering her his arm. They walked for a while until they were away from the main street of town.

They stopped by a small group of trees and Rosie turned to look up at him. “Ok Rosie darling - tell me everything they said.” Heyes directed her.

She stood, gaping up at him. This wasn’t exactly what she had been expecting - or wanting for that matter.

“What! All of it?” she asked.

“Yep. Every little detail. Don’t leave anything out.” he answered.

“Well ….” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts.

“What?” Heyes questioned in a more aggressive tone. He needed to know, and the sooner the better.
The girl was a little a taken aback by his change of manner and stepped back from him. In an instant he grabbed her roughly by her upper arms, holding her in a firm grip. She tried to wriggle free but he only held her tighter. As she began to panic that this man may not be what she hoped he was, Heyes saw the fear in her face, and he instantly released her, looking down at the ground.

“I’m sorry, Rosie. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that I’m real concerned about a friend of mine and I hoped that those men might know something.”

“Why couldn’t you just ask them yourself then?” she said defiantly.

“Well, they’re not real friendly towards me, and I’d rather they didn’t know I was in town.” Heyes said softly. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. She flinched at first but his touch was so gentle that she began to realise that he didn’t really mean her any harm. She smiled at him and started to recount the conversations of the evening.

There wasn’t a lot to go on, but Heyes managed to put together bits and pieces from what Rosie told him. It seemed the gang must have caught up with Kid and had been bringing him into town. One of the men had frequently referred to lost money. Somewhere up on the ridge, about ten miles out of town, they had lost him and one of the gang members. Rosie could give him no further details but it gave him enough to go on to begin searching for his partner. What he couldn’t work out was, if Kid had managed to get away, why hadn’t he come into town to meet him - unless he knew the gang were here, or he was injured or worse. Heyes was determined to find his partner, sooner rather than later.

Heyes collected his belongings from the hotel and retrieved his horse from the livery in double quick time. He rode out of town just as the sun was beginning to rise, leaving behind a rather disappointed girl. He had paid her well for the information, but as she stood clutching the money the dark stranger had given her, she couldn’t help but wish he’d chosen to stay the night with her instead.

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

Kid Curry had spent a very uncomfortable night. The pain from the gunshot wound had throbbed consistently, punctuated with sharp, stabbing sensations that seemed to course their way throughout his entire body. Fever was beginning to set in, and he suffered uncontrollable bouts of shivering. He had been given no blankets and even his worn, but warm, sheepskin coat could not keep out the chills of the night.

He slept fitfully and even when he did manage to drift off, the rope that had been placed around his neck tightened as either he or Willard shifted position. On top if all this, the circulation of blood to his hands and feet was more or less cut off by the tightness of the thongs with which he had been tied. He was just beginning to think that he wouldn’t be able to endure much more when he noticed, thankfully, that the sun was rising, although he was apprehensive of what fate the new day would bring.

He must have drifted back to sleep, because the next thing he was aware of was the rope around his neck being yanked and hearing Willard’s rough laugh.
“Time to get moving Mr Quick draw!”

Kid gasped for air as the rope constricted his windpipe. Willard ignored him, still laughing as he walked away.

Suddenly the pressure on his throat released as Quail loosened the knot, taking the rope from around his neck. Quail checked the wound, quickly, relieved to see it had finally stopped bleeding, although Curry had lost an awful lot of blood.

Kid winced as he repositioned the pieces of shirt that had stuck to his shoulder. Kid thought he heard Quail mumble ‘Sorry’ but he couldn’t be quite sure. He was then helped into as sitting position and offered a canteen of water. As he took his first grateful sips it was suddenly knocked from his mouth, as Mac hit it away.

“Taking your nursing duties a little too literally ain’t we Quail?” he said scornfully to him.
“Just trying to keep him alive,” Quail responded.

Mac snorted and grabbed Kid roughly by his arms, which were still secured behind his back, and hauled him onto his feet, which were still tied together. This sudden movement sent more flashes of pain through Kid’s body, as he tried to keep his balance.

“Let’s get him loaded onto a horse and get moving,” instructed Mac.

Quail held Kid by the shoulders until he could keep his balance, then he bent down and released his feet. Kid swayed, his head beginning to spin as he tried to re-adjust to this new position. Again Quail held him, and began to guide him towards his horse.

As they stopped at the side of the animal Kid looked at the man who seemed to be trying to help him. There was something slightly familiar about him but, for the life of him, Kid couldn’t remember how he knew him. He caught the man’s eye, but an expressionless look was returned.

Quail began to untie Kid’s hands hoping he wouldn’t try anything foolish. He would be sorry to have to hurt him now, when he’d managed to keep him alive this long, although he doubted Kid Curry had enough energy to cause any harm.

Without saying a word, he guided Kid up onto his horse, helping him to put a foot in the stirrup and then giving him a push into the saddle. This everyday act left Kid feeling totally exhausted and he found himself leaning forward into his horse’s mane, trying to catch his breath.

Kid was then yanked back up into a sitting position by Jake, who proceeded to tie his hands to the horn of his saddle, making them a little bit tighter than was really necessary.

Sweat began to trickle down Kid’s face and he began another violent bout of shivering. He caught Quail throwing him a concerned look as he mounted his own horse, but he did, and said, nothing. Kid Curry suddenly felt very alone, thinking at this moment he’d give anything to see his partner’s dimpled, smiling face.

The party started to make their way down the rough track. Kid was grateful that they had tied his hands in front of him, allowing him some means of keeping his balance as his horse picked its way down the slope.

Each step his horse took jolted his body, he was thirsty and he felt cold. His despair couldn’t get any worse, part of him wished they’d just shoot him and put him out of his misery.

These morbid thoughts made him think of Heyes, wondering how he was fairing. He’d always thought that they’d leave this world together, in a hail of bullets. This certainly wasn’t the way he’d thought he’d die, but he was coming to terms with the possibility, that this would, more than likely, be one of his last days on this earth. His only hope was that Heyes would find him, but, as he felt increasingly weaker, he felt the likelihood of his partner getting to him in time becoming more and more remote.

The six riders continued on, more or less in silence, the only sound being the horses’ hooves as they made contact with stones, and an occasional snort from the animals.

The silence was dramatically broken by a loud crash from the sky. Kid jumped, snapping his head up and tensed. He had been slipping in and out of consciousness and had been totally unaware of the gathering storm clouds that had caused the thunder that startled him.
A short while later his desolation was increased as the heavens opened and torrential rain began to fall. “Oh god - just let me die now!” he found himself saying.

As the group ploughed on through the elements, the ground became more unstable and the horses slipped more frequently.

They had been battling on like this for about half an hour when it happened.
Mac and Joe were at the front of the group, followed by Jake, who was leading Kid’s horse, with Quail and Willard bringing up the rear. Unexpectedly, the ground beneath Jake’s horse began to crumble, soaked in the rain. Unfortunately it happened at a particularly narrow part of the track, with a steep drop away to one side.

Jake’s horse began to slide down the bank, struggling to keep its footing. He hung on grimly, trying to kick the horse back up the slope, while still holding the lead to Kid’s horse, which also began to descend downwards. Jake, realising that the other horse was going to pull him down, released the lead rope, just as his own horse scrambled onto firmer ground.

Kid wasn’t so lucky. His horse went down on its haunches, and being in such a weak state, Kid found himself slipping off the saddle, with his hands still secured to the horn.
When Quail saw what was happening, he leapt from his horse, and scrambled down the slope, towards Kid, and took his knife from its sheath.

Just as Kid thought his arms were going to be ripped from their sockets, he felt the ropes around his wrists being cut. The horse slipped further down the slope, leaving Kid and his rescuer lying in the mud. Kid felt Quail grab the back of his coat and try to pull him up the bank, as he tried to get a grip himself, but found he was too weak to do so.

Suddenly the whole world seemed to fall away and Kid found himself sliding downwards, alongside Quail, as the ground crumbled. As he grabbed at pieces of rock and branch he felt like his life was finally slipping from his grasp.

Kid came to a stop, having managed to clutch the edge of a large rock that was deeply embedded in the ground. He lay for a few minutes, catching his breath and gathering his thoughts, as the world swam about him, not quite believing he was still alive. Looking up the slope, he traced the path that his and Quail’s bodies had made through the mud that had cascaded down. He found himself looking around for the other man, trying to pull himself up, using his legs to gain a firmer position. A stab of pain shot through his leg, and looking down at it realised that he was bleeding quite profusely from a large gash. It was then he noticed the blue of the other man’s shirt, a few feet away. The man’s head and shoulders were visible, but his legs seemed to be further down the slope, out of view.

Kid mustered every last bit of his ebbing energy and crawled towards the man who had seemed to have tried to protect him as best he could.
Quail had a firm grasp of a root in the ground and raised his eyes to look at Kid as he approached.
As Kid got closer he realized that the bottom half of Quail’s body was hanging over a very high precipice. Instinctively Kid reached out his hand but at first Quail made no attempt to take it.
“Come on, grab my hand,” Kid encouraged.

“If I do that then we’re both going to fall,” answered Quail “You haven’t got the strength to pull me back up, not in your condition.”

“At least let me try,” answered Kid, knowing that he was right. For some reason this man had tried to help him, and Kid felt compelled to return the favour.

Quail slowly released his grip from the root with one hand and reached out to Kid’s, who took it as firmly as he could. As he tried to pull the man up he appreciated what a hopeless position they were in. They stayed grasping hands for a few seconds, but then the mud and blood that coated their palms made the grip slip. Kid tried desperately to regain a hold but, he just didn’t have the strength and Quail fell quietly over the edge.

Kid crawled back to the rock that had stopped his own fall, and wedged himself against it. He could hear the men at the top of the hill shouting. They were obviously still looking for them. Fortunately for Kid they saw Quail’s body fall down the incline, and being basically cowards at heart, they weren’t willing to risk their own necks for a man they weren’t even sure was still there, even if he was worth ten thousand dollars!

As the rain continued to fall Kid Curry shifted his body into the most comfortable position he could find, images of Quail’s face flashing before him. Who had he been, and why had he tried to protect him? Perhaps he’d never know, but he’d always be grateful to him. Heyes was the only other person to ever look out for him, but he wasn’t here and he’d probably never see him again. Kid Curry, his energy totally spent, closed his eyes and waited for death to come and take him.

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

Heyes cursed the rain as it began to fall. It was going to be hard enough to track Kid as it was, but the rain would wash away any tracks he might be lucky enough to come across. Pulling his collar up, he tipped his hat, so that the water would run off the front and not down the back of his neck, and fixed his eyes firmly on the ground before him, wishing he had Kid’s tracking skills. He had teased him once that he was the ‘champeen tracker of Utah‘, but in reality they both knew it was Kid who had an uncanny ability to follow a trail.

As he worked his way towards the ridge he believed the gang had referred to in the saloon, the rain eventually stopped, and, to his relief the sun started to break through the clouds. There was a narrow track that cut across the ridge and, as Heyes approached, he realised that the route had been washed away by a landslide. There was no way across so he started to turn his horse in the other direction when something caught his eye. There had been a flash, in the sunlight, about half way down the slope. Heyes squinted his eyes to focus more clearly on the object that had caught his attention, just able to make out something swinging from a branch in the light breeze. His eyes widened as he recognised it as a hat - Kid’s floppy brown one with the silver, buckle band!

Heyes scrambled off his horse, his eyes searching. He called out ‘Thaddeus,’ just in case anyone should be near by, you could never be too careful. There was no reply.

Getting his rope from his saddle, he secured it to a nearby rock, wrapping the long end around his waist. Slowly he lowered himself down the steep bank, towards the hat, only too aware of the falling loose rubble. He grabbed the hat and tucked it into his shirt, momentarily praying that this wasn’t the only thing left of Kid Curry. He decided to head towards a large rock that looked a secure landing. As he came closer he could see something red poking out on the other side. He scrambled on top of the rock and looked over the edge. At first it looked like a piece of fabric caught in the mud but as he looked further he saw it was a body, jammed under the rock. He climbed down and was horrified to realise that it was his partner!

‘Kid! Kid!’ screamed Heyes, his caution forgotten, as he began to wipe the mud from his friend’s face. The face that looked back at him was white and deathly.

Heyes put his face close to his friend’s and felt a slight breath. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that Kid was as close to death as he’d ever seen him. He managed to manoeuvre him out from beneath the rock, and then took the rope and secured it under his Kid’s arms.

Heyes scrambled back up the muddy slope, all the while his mind racing as to Kid’s condition. Was he too late? How bad was he really? Hastily, he tied the rope to his horse and urged it forward. Slowly but surely Kid’s lifeless body was pulled onto the track.

After stopping the horse Heyes released the rope from Kid’s chest and had his first good look at the state he was in, cursing that perhaps he had moved him too prematurely before assessing how bad his injuries were.

The first thing he noticed was the dark, red, stain on the upper thigh, where there was a deep gash. It was then that he lifted his sheepskin coat and saw the makeshift bandaging on Kid’s shoulder. He tentatively lifted the material and saw the raw, infected, wound that spread across his chest.

“God, no.” Heyes uttered. He knew he had to get his friend back to town as quickly as possible to a doctor if there was any chance of saving his life. As he dragged him up onto his horse Kid momentarily regained consciousness.

“Heyes?” he spluttered with utter disbelief.

“I’ve got ya! I’ve got ya!” replied his partner as he physically pushed him up onto the saddle of his horse, climbing up behind him, and securing him in his arms. The relief, and comfort, of knowing that his partner was there enabled the Kid to slip into unconsciousness once again.

The journey back to town was one of the worst of Heyes’ life. He knew that the gang could possibly still be there, so he’d have to be extra careful. The Kid was leaning lifelessly back on him, reassuring him with only the occasional moan, showing he was still living. The worry of their predicament made Heyes feel almost physically sick. In all the years they’d been robbing trains and banks, even though Kid had been shot before, and himself too, on occasion, Heyes had never felt such hopelessness.

He pushed the horse as hard as he dared. It was late evening by the time they reached the out skirts of town. Kid’s fever was raging and his breathing had become increasingly erratic, and more than once Heyes had stopped just to check he was still alive.

He knew he was taking a big risk, returning to Twin Falls, but it was the nearest town, and he knew Kid had little chance if they tried to travel much further, especially as the next town was some fifty miles away. During his time in the town, Heyes had familiarised himself with its layout, as he usually did, so knew exactly where the doctor was located. He rode around to the back of the building, where, after leaning Kid forward onto the horse’s neck, he dismounted and made his way to the back door. A lamp gave out a welcoming glow, and illuminated the brass plaque, engraved with the words ‘Doctor E. Philips‘; reassuring Heyes he was in the right place. He cautiously knocked, and waited.

He heard a shuffle behind the door and then a voice called out, “Who is it? What do you want?”

“I got a real sick man here, Doc, who needs looking at. Can I bring him in?” replied Heyes.
The door opened a few inches and a small, grey haired man, with round spectacles perched on the end of his nose, peered around it.

“What’s the problem?” he enquired.

“My friend here has been shot up, is running a fever and is in some desperate need of some doctoring.”

The door opened a little further so that the doctor could see Kid hunched on the horse.

“You’d best bring him inside.” he instructed.

Heyes turned to pull Kid from the saddle and was just in time to catch him as he slid side ways. He then struggled to carry him in through the door, and was glad to see the Doctor had anticipated this and was directing him to a bed, in the corner of the room, where Heyes lay Kid’s seemingly lifeless body. He was shooed away from the bedside, as the Doctor began to examine Kid, but waited patiently while the examination was carried out, to hear the diagnosis.

Doctor Philips finally turned to Heyes and said “Well, your friend here is in pretty bad shape. There is a swelling on the back of his head, probably caused by a blow with a heavy object. He has a nasty gash to the leg which is becoming infected. This however is the least of his worries. There is a bullet lodged in his chest, precariously close to his heart, in a wound that has obviously been tampered with, and not professionally! He is running a fever to combat the infection that is setting into his body. All in all, he is a very sick man, and all I can say is that to have survived this long he must have a very strong reason for living!”

With that, the Doctor wiped his hands and left the room. Heyes went to Kid’s side and looked down at his ghostly, pale face, which was still splattered with mud. He took a nearby damp cloth and began to carefully wipe his friend’s face. As the mud washed away, Heyes could see bruising on Kid’s cheek and forehead, and the paleness of his complexion, which only hinted at what his friend had been through, in the last few days.

Presently the doctor returned with a tray of shining, but dangerous looking instruments. As he readied himself to treat Kid’s wounds, Heyes prepared his friend, cleaning around the injury in his chest and the gash on his leg. As he removed Kids shirt he saw the all too familiar marks around his wrists where his hands had been tied. There was bruising all over his body, from his fall, and from the rough treatment he had received at the hands of the gang.

“What in hell happened, Kid?” he eventually murmured.

Soon everything was ready for the doctor to proceed.

“I’m going to need your help,” Philips told Heyes.

The dark haired man nodded earnestly - he wasn’t going anywhere. Luckily, Quail was right, Philips was an excellent and experienced doctor, which was just as well for Kid Curry.

Heyes sat with Kid all night as the doctor tended and treated his wounds, offering help and support whenever it was needed. As yet another day broke, it found Kid a great deal more cared for but perilously unwell. His condition did not change dramatically for the next two days as fever raged and he fought the infection - and for his life. Throughout all this Heyes was by his bedside, cooling him, forcing him to drink and offering words of comfort and encouragement. By the start of day three Heyes, too, was exhausted. Eventually Philips managed to persuade him to take a break and rest in the next room.

It was during this time that Kid Curry began to regain consciousness. He lay on his back, in a darkened space, trying to workout where he was and what had happened. All he knew was that he was desperate for something to drink. He instinctively tried to called out “Heyes!” but he was in too weak a state for it to be heard. He mustered himself again and called out louder.

In the adjacent room his partner stirred in his sleep, dreaming that Kid was calling out to him! Eventually he woke, realising that someone was calling to him - and it was Kid from the next room. Without hesitation he rushed to his friend’s bedside where he was greeted by a pair of weary, blue eyes that were searching for the familiar brown pair. After many days apart their eyes were finally able to meet.

‘Welcome back, Mr Jones!’ Heyes said as cheerily as he could muster. Kid gave him a weak smile.
“Need a drink.” Kid said quietly.

Heyes immediately reached for a nearby cup of water, and carefully lifted Kid’s head, placing the cup to his lips. When the cup was drained Kid asked “Where are we, Heyes?”

His partner explained that they had been lucky enough to have been taken in by the doctor, who looked on Kid as some sort of miracle, on account of his still being alive.

Heyes told him how the doctor had taken nearly an hour to carefully extract the bullet, from his chest, as it had been perilously close to his heart. The wound on his leg had been cleaned and stitched and the infection treated. All they had to worry about now was whether pneumonia would set in, which was very probable considering the conditions in which Heyes had found Kid.

Heyes sat on a chair next to the bed, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and quietly asked “What happened out there, Kid?”

There was no response for a while, Kid merely lay there with his eyes closed. Then, softly he said “I can’t remember,” feeling a wave of guilt rush over him. He could remember, every last detail. He didn’t want to lie to Heyes, he’d never had to before, but he just didn’t want to talk about it at the moment. He just wanted to try and forget the feelings and emotions he had gone through and try and move on with his life. He felt bad, because he could see how tired, and drawn, Heyes looked and knew that he had been there looking after him the whole time, just like when they were kids, but, for now he just needed to forget.

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

The doctor kindly allowed them to stay at his place, for a few days, so he could keep a close eye on his patient. He had promised Heyes discretion, agreeing not to let anyone know they were there, especially the sheriff. Heyes had managed to convince him that the men, who had shot his friend, were a ruthless bunch and would stop at nothing to get revenge.

When Heyes was confident that the gang was no longer in town and that no one else knew them there, he made arrangements for them to move over to the hotel. He was getting nervous that the doctor may over hear some conversation that would lead him to their real identities. The doctor had accepted the story that Heyes had constructed, to account for Kid’s condition, about a disagreement over a poker game, but felt he couldn’t push their luck much further. Kid was no where near fit enough to be moved any great distance, and getting out of bed was the last thing he felt like doing, but he understood his partner’s reasoning.

The short journey to the hotel left him feeling totally exhausted and Heyes left him to sleep it off, deciding that what he needed was a drink, so he headed towards the saloon.

The saloon was dark, gloomy, and quiet, which suited Heyes’ mood. He got himself a bottle of whiskey and sat at the back of the room, with a clear view of the bat wing doors, contemplating his and Kid’s situation. He was getting increasingly worried for his friend. Kid had said very little, since he had regained consciousness, and although Heyes knew he was still feeling pretty rough, he felt there was more to it than just his present physical state of health. He thought back to how Kid had been whilst they were being pursued and how he had thought to ask him about it when they met up again. Draining his drink he pondered as to whether it would be a good thing to tackle Kid about this now. Picking up his hat, he placed it on the back of his head, took the bottle, and headed back to the hotel, considering what to do, and say when he got there. From a corner of the room a fair haired girl watched him leave, more than just a little aggrieved that he hadn’t noticed her.

Heyes entered the hotel room as quietly as possible hoping that he wouldn’t wake Kid from his much needed sleep. He was met with the click of a six gun and felt the cold barrel against his temple, and froze, holding his breath, directing a quick look towards the bed to check if the Kid was alright. The bed was empty. He suddenly realised that the man with a gun to his head had un-cocked it.

Slowly turning his head he found himself looking in the face of Kid Curry.

“What the hell you doing?” he demanded, his relief coming out in anger.

Kid let his arm fall to his side and stood with his head down. “Just wanted to be sure, that’s all.”
“Sure of what?” snapped back Heyes, “Putting a bullet in my head?”

Kid turned and started to make his way back across the room to the bed. The exertion of his actions began to take their toll and his knees began to buckle. In an instant Heyes was by his side, helping him to the bed. Heyes managed to calm his nerves and temper his tone.

“Who were you expecting?” he asked. It was Kid’s turn to become agitated.

“Hell, I don’t know. There just seem to be way too many people out there that want us dead, Heyes! Perhaps it would be better if we were!” As his last statement slipped from his lips, Kid could see the look of shock in his partner’s eyes.

“And just when did you begin to give up so easily?” Heyes asked.

Kid remained silent, gazing towards the window, looking anywhere other than at his friend.

“Look,” Heyes continued, “I know things have been kinda rough lately , but were both still here and OK, you’re not in the best of health right now, but you’ll get better and we can move on. You’ll see that …”

He never got to finish this sentence as Kid snapped “Shut up, Heyes! Just shut up for once in your god damn life. I’m sick of hearing it!”

This outburst brought on a bout of coughing for the Kid. He winced in pain as the convulsions pulled at his injuries.

“I’m going to fetch the Doc.” said Heyes.

“Don’t bother!” spluttered Kid. “If it’s the start of pneumonia and I’m going to die - it would be a relief!”

Heyes stared at him, in disbelief. This just wasn’t the man he had ridden alongside all these years. Kid Curry was the reasonable, optimistic and level headed one. It was Heyes who was supposed to be the one that suffered emotional turmoil and anxieties!

“What the hell has gotten into you, Kid? What happened out there? What ever it was, I think we need to talk about it.”

Kid had stopped coughing and was lying back in the bed. He closed his eyes briefly and then directed his gaze at his partner.

“What’s it all for, Heyes? Why are we going through all this? Just to try and get ourselves a normal life? I’m beginning to think it’s not worth the effort.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” returned Heyes. Kid looked down at the quilt on the bed, suddenly unable to meet his partner’s eyes.

“The Amnesty, Heyes. It ain’t worth all the grief we seem to have been having over the last few months. At least if we were still robbing trains and banks we’d have some money in our pockets instead of scraping around for dead end jobs. I’m sick of looking over my shoulder, checking out towns and sheriffs and sick of watching your back!”

Hannibal Heyes was lost for words for once in his life. The silence sliced through the room. Heyes looked at his friend, seeing how pale and drawn he’d become. He still had a way to go before he would be recovered.

Eventually Heyes said “I think you ought to get some rest and we can continue this discussion later.”

Kid noted the slight sarcasm in his tone, and the narrowed eyes, and felt very relieved that Heyes was willing to let it go - for now. His partner was not the easiest man to argue against, even when you were at full strength, and right now he was exhausted, so he merely nodded and turned on his uninjured side, with his back to Heyes.

Although Heyes tried a few times, Kid would not indulge him with a further discussion. As the days slipped past Heyes’ concern began to grow about the amount of time they had stayed in one place, and he began to feel restless and uneasy. He managed to keep their funds going by playing poker, but people were getting wise to his ability with cards and fewer and fewer would enter into a game with him.

At first, when he went to the saloon, the girl Rosie continued to try and attract his attention, but he was uninterested. She began to feel a real resentment towards him. Little did Heyes know he was slowly making a very dangerous enemy.

Whilst the Kid was not back to full strength, with each day he was able to do more and more. He stayed in his room at the hotel most of the time, making the occasional trip down the stairs to sit quietly on the porch. Heyes noticed that he did so without strapping on his gun. This was truly out of character for Kid Curry.

Heyes could remember having an argument with his friend one time before, about trying to get him not to wear it, but Kid had been his usual stubborn self and it had led to a man being shot. For him to suddenly choose not to wear it was a real concern to his partner. Kid hadn’t even bothered to clean his gun since Heyes had found him, which was also inconceivable.

One morning, as they were getting ready to go and get some breakfast Heyes broached the subject.

“Ain’t you going to put your gun on?” he asked as innocently as he could.

“Nope!” was the short reply.

“Any particular reason?” Heyes responded. Kid shot him a look across the room.
“I’m sick of being Kid Curry - gunslinger. Figured it don’t help anymore- not when it really matters anyhow.”

“How can you say that?” Heyes shot back. “Your ability with that thing has helped us out more times than I care to remember.”

“And perhaps it’s got us into more trouble than you want to remember too, Heyes. You’ve said it yourself - this thing is trouble. Well, I’ve had about as much trouble as a man can take recently lately, and I ain’t gonna wear it no more. You coming to breakfast?” Kid picked up his hat and calmly left the room, leaving a dumbstruck Heyes to follow him.

Heyes was becoming more and more uneasy about the amount of time they were spending in one place and so, after a couple more days, in which Kid still refused to talk to him, he broached the subject of moving on. Kid merely shrugged at the suggestion, showing disinterest.

Heyes went out to get some supplies. The decision to move on was given extra weight when Heyes spotted one of the gang members, Tom Willard, riding into town. Kid saw him too, from the hotel room window. The sight of the man brought back memories of the time he had spent in their capture.

When Heyes returned to the hotel he was astonished to find Kid packed and ready to go, but still without his gun.
“All set then?” Heyes merely said, passing him his hat. Kid took it without comment, took a quick look around the room and headed downstairs. Heyes shrugged and followed him. In the lobby he placed his hand on Kid’s arm.

“Think I saw someone who might know us, in town so we’d better be careful.” Heyes didn’t want to tell him who he’d seen, unsure of how Kid would react. Kid shot him a look.

“Yeah. I saw him too. Let’s go.” Heyes faltered - no, this wasn’t the Kid Curry he knew, there was no anger there, just resignation.

They were able to get to the livery without being spotted and headed out of town, both with great relief. As they left, Rosie happened to be walking to work. Seeing Mr Smith leave without one word to her made her fume.

As she walked into the saloon one of the first people she saw was Tom Willard - one of the men Mr Smith had asked her to hang around that night. She sidled up to him.

“Buy a girl a drink, I can make it worth your while, I can tell you something real interesting.” she purred seductively!

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

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry rode in silence. Neither man was sure what to say to each other. Heyes was preoccupied trying to figure out a way to break through Kid’s defences and try to get him to talk about what had happened. He was a man of few words at the best of times, but now he was becoming monosyllabic.

Kid too was lost in his thoughts. The guilt he felt about how he was treating his partner was eating away at him, but he just didn’t know what to tell him. He wasn’t even sure himself what he was thinking. Recent events had made him doubt himself and his abilities. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Heyes should try for the amnesty on his own. His gunslinger image shadowed him all the time and he couldn’t help feeling that Lom Trevors, the sheriff who had helped them get the amnesty deal, had been right all along, that it would be a lot harder to convince the governor that a gunfighter could change. His thoughts were suddenly broken by Heyes, who was asking whether he wanted to push onto the next town, or make camp for the night. Heyes was still concerned about his friend’s physical state.

Although his wounds had healed satisfactorily, the amount of blood he had lost and the night spent on the muddy slope had taken their toll. Heyes had noticed that he didn’t move with the same grace and ease as before. There was a weariness in him, both physical and mentally, and Heyes desperately wanted his old partner back.

“Let’s push on to Oakley.” Kid answered, even though he wanted to stop. He knew if he was on his own with Heyes he would push him to talk about what was bothering him, and he still didn’t want to talk about it. At least in town Heyes would probably get distracted by some poker game.

It was dark by the time they got to Oakley, and they were grateful for the cover it offered. They did their usual check of the sheriff’s office, finding that he was unknown to them. The livery was locked up for the evening so they apologetically left their horses tied to the hitching post outside the hotel.
The pale, thin faced, desk clerk eyed them suspiciously as they registered and almost reluctantly passed them the key to their room. Heyes gave him his best appeasing smile, the one that never quite reached his eyes, and followed Kid up the stairs.

The room was small, but fairly clean. Kid sighed as he threw his saddle bags on a bed. “Another hotel!” he thought wearily. Heyes checked the window. He had a good view into the street. Lights flooded from the saloon.

“Fancy a quick drink before we turn in?” he asked his partner.

“Nah!” Kid answered “but you go ahead.” Heyes felt it was said more as a direction than a casual response, so he checked his pocket for money, put his hat on and left without another word. Kid felt relieved that he had gone, but at the same time lonely.

He lay on a bed, his arms behind his head, thinking. He hated the thought of splitting from Heyes, but at the moment he felt this was the only option, to give his friend a real chance at amnesty. He didn’t know how much longer he could face being on the run, constantly waiting for someone to recognise them, challenge them, or even try to shoot them. He thought of Quail and how he’d slipped from his grasp. He’d tried, but he hadn’t been able to do anything - he had felt so useless.
Now he had had time to think about it, he was getting some memory of where he’d seen Quail before. He seemed to remember some fight breaking out in a saloon, when he and Heyes had been leading the Devils Hole Gang. A man had been getting beaten to a pulp, until Heyes stepped in, backed up by Kid, of course. Kid had a strong feeling that Quail had been that man. He was beginning to think of that time as ‘the good old days,’ when he and Heyes had felt invincible, with the arrogance of youth. He didn’t feel like that anymore. These days he felt more of a hindrance than a help to Heyes.

He rubbed his eyes, suddenly not feeling all that tired. He needed to see his friend. Perhaps the time had come to talk to him.

Kid Curry made an inconspicuous entrance into the saloon. He scanned the room, his eyes coming to rest on a familiar black hat. Instinctively Heyes felt he was there and raised his head, meeting his eyes, briefly, with just a trace of a smile. He then focussed his attention back on the hand that he was holding. It was a good one, and a few minutes later he was pulling his winnings towards him.
The game continued amicably for another half an hour. Kid stood quietly by the bar, drinking beer, paying only polite attention to the girls that sidled up to him. Suddenly the atmosphere changed and Heyes found himself challenged by the man opposite him.

“No one has that much luck my friend.” he provoked.

“No, they don’t!” replied Heyes “Just an ability to know when to play a pair and when to hold back.”

The man curled his lip and started pushing his chair back “Why you …”

Heyes remained calm. He knew Kid was at the bar watching his back. The man stood up and went for his gun. In a split second Heyes realised that it was pointing straight at him and Kid was not behind him.

Kid had observed all that had gone on. As his hand instinctively went to his side he remembered he wasn’t wearing his gun. He was suddenly gripped with dread. The gun was pointing at his partner’s head and he felt unsure of what to do.

He stepped forward, and, with horror, saw the man cock his gun and look at Heyes with real intent. Kid felt his mouth go dry as panic gripped him.

Heyes, too, froze, trying to comprehend what was going on. Why didn’t Kid have his back? Why hadn’t drawn his gun and ……?

Sudden realisation came to Heyes, that it really had been Kid keeping him alive all these years, and that in their game a gun was a real necessity. And now Kid wasn’t wearing one, and he was going to die!

He managed to keep his composure throughout the whole unfurling episode. He felt the moment had come and wanted to turn to look at Kid when, suddenly, the silence was broken by a shot, and the man’s gun flew from his hand.

Heyes smiled inwardly. The Kid had come through. He turned to give him the customary nod of acknowledgement, only to see Kid’s back, as he left the saloon, and the sheriff standing behind him, his smoking gun in his hand.

After giving details of the incident, and thanking the sheriff, Heyes solemnly returned to the hotel. As he reached for the door it suddenly opened, and he came face to face with Kid Curry.

Neither man spoke for a second, both unsure what to say. Heyes noticed Kid has his saddlebags on his shoulder.

Eventually he said “Going somewhere?”

Kid stared back at him defiantly, then replied “Think it’s for the best, don’t you?”

The tension of the night suddenly exploded in Heyes and he pushed his partner back into the room, slamming the door behind them.

“And when the hell did you start doing the thinking? You’ve never been that good at it, so why start now?”

Kid stood his ground, fists clenched, eye to eye with his partner, as he spat this tirade at him. He went to move around Heyes, towards the door, but Heyes grabbed the front of his shirt and pushed him back.

“I haven’t finished yet!” yelled Heyes.

“Well, I am, Heyes!” returned Kid. “I’m finished with running, with being shot, the amnesty … and I’m finished with you!”

The strain of the last few weeks erupted from Heyes as he laid a well aimed blow on Kid’s cheek. The force of the punch caused Kid to stumble backwards and fall against a nearby chair, lose his balance and fall to the ground.

Heyes stood menacingly over him, every inch the leader of the Devils Hole Gang.
Kid stoically got slowly back to his feet, clutching his injured shoulder, a fleeting look of pain crossing his face.

“You about done?” Kid said quietly and without waiting for an answer, made towards the door again.

This time Heyes stood to one side to let him pass, shocked by his own actions. It crossed his mind that he hadn’t hit Kid since the last time they’d split up, when he was about nineteen, and the Kid, seventeen, and here he was, about to leave again.

“Kid wait!” pleaded Heyes. “I really think we need to talk.”

“Nothing left to say, is there, Heyes?” replied Kid as he opened the door. He paused momentarily, looking at his friend, possibly for the last time and then left, quietly closing the door behind him. Heyes found himself rooted to the spot, not quite able to believe what had just happened. It hadn’t gone at all how he had planned.

Kid clasped his shoulder, as he made his way down the stairs, but that wasn’t what was hurting the most. Heyes had always had a quick, and sharp, tongue, but it wasn’t often that he directed it at him. He was still reeling from the events in the saloon and how he had frozen, feeling so incapable. For the last few weeks he had been struggling to come to terms with how he felt. Even before Mac and his gang had got hold of him, he had been feeling weary of his and Heyes’ nomadic existence. His thoughts had frequently turned to his childhood home, before the raiders came and destroyed everything. He knew this was one subject that Heyes never wanted to discuss, so he had left it alone. He had begun to feel that he would never have a chance to settle down and make a home of his own, and secretly this was what he wanted most in the world. He just wasn’t sure Heyes wanted the same thing.

He headed towards the livery, deep in thought, beginning to realise that he had no idea of where he was going, or what he intended to do. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t notice the man watching him from the shadows of a nearby building.

Joe Clements had ridden into town just a short while earlier. He had been making his way to the saloon when he heard shots. Not wanting to get involved in any disturbance, he had gone to the diner instead. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days, having been scouring the local area for any sign of the two men that he and the rest of Zeb Machlan’s gang were looking for. They’d had a real lucky break when that pretty, little saloon girl, Rosie, had decided to help them out, telling Tom Willard how a certain dark haired man, calling himself Smith, had asked her to spy on them. It hadn’t taken Willard long to work out who it was, and getting their hands on Heyes would make up for losing Curry.

The gang had split up to search the nearby towns, three days ago, but had arranged to meet in Oakley. Joe Clements hadn’t quite believed his eyes when he saw Kid Curry, coming out of the hotel. He was unsure what to do, deciding that he didn’t fancy meeting a man he had shot at point blank range, for no good reason, on his own, especially Kid Curry!

He was questioning what to do, when his attention was caught by another figure, standing on the hotel porch, looking towards the livery. Joe couldn’t believe he was having this much good fortune, Mac was going to be real pleased with him, when he arrived, that he had seen Curry, and that Hannibal Heyes was in town too !

Heyes stood on the porch, debating whether to go after the Kid, or give them both a chance to cool down. He came to the decision that what he really needed was another drink and headed towards the saloon.

Kid slowly and methodically tacked his horse, half expecting, no, hoping that he would hear familiar footsteps behind him. But he remained alone. Heyes could be just as stubborn as he was at times, he concluded. When his task was finished, he mounted his horse, leaving payment for the livery man, and set off, not really sure where he was going.

Heyes’ drink had turned into five or six, in quick succession. Beginning to feel a little unstable, he decided the best thing to do was get some sleep and go look for his partner in the morning. He came out of the saloon, swaying slightly as he made his way down the steps. As he meandered across the street he hummed a tune to himself, which he found helped distract him from his thoughts. He walked along the board walk, towards the hotel, concentrating on keeping in a straight line. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his head and everything went black.

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

Heyes awoke, in darkness, to a pounding head, and a body that felt like it was encased in rock. He couldn’t seem to move his arms or legs. As he regained his senses, he realised that his hands were tied behind his back and had been secured to ropes that also bound his legs. He could hear voices, not too far away, but could see nothing. His eyes had also been covered and there was a gag in his mouth.

“Great start to the day!” he cynically thought to himself.

He lay still, and quiet, for a while, listening, and thinking, trying to gauge his situation. It dawned on him that if he was going to get out of this it would have to be totally down to him. Kid was gone and this was how it was going to be from now on. Now he was in this situation, he understood how much they really had needed each other. He couldn’t help but think “If we hadn’t have split up that day, Kid wouldn’t have had his troubles, and I wouldn’t be here now!”

Footsteps approached and he suddenly felt someone wrench him around, so that they could get to the ropes that bound him. His feet were released and he was hauled up. Sharp pains shot through his limbs as the blood coursed its way to the extremities of his body. He clenched his teeth, on the gag in his mouth, against the sensations. He felt someone and smelled someone, standing real close to him.

“Well, look at the great Hannibal Heyes! His silver tongue seems to have escaped him, for now, boys!”

There was a general guffawing and Heyes winced inwardly, as he realised that they knew who he was. He had a pretty good idea who they were, in return, and guessed that now he was going to get first hand experience of what Kid had been through during the time this gang had held him.

In the next few seconds the hard reality hit him - straight in the stomach, as Mac landed a fist. Heyes doubled over in agony, only the gag stopping him from crying out in surprise and pain.

“I hope you’re going to prove to be a little more talkative than your partner, Heyes.” leered Mac.
Heyes felt the blindfold being ripped from his face, and, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he found himself looking into a cruel and menacing face, as the gag too was removed.

Heyes stared defiantly back at the man. “I wouldn’t hold your breath!” he returned. This comment was met with a blow across his face, stinging his cheek.

“Thought you two were supposed to be inseparable?” Mac continued. “You kept a very low profile when Kid Curry was our ‘guest’! I don’t see him around to help you out now, neither!” Mac followed this with a self satisfied laugh. “Never let it be said I’m not a fair man though, Heyes. We’ll give him a chance to show himself and maybe Joe’s shooting will have improved some, by the time he comes by!”

“Doubt it’ll ever be good enough. Got away from you last time easy enough, didn’t he?” Heyes told Mac.

“Put the gag back in, I’m sick of his talking already.” snapped Mac to Willard, who readily obliged.
With that done, Heyes was dragged to a small clearing near the camp, surrounded by fir trees, a few rocks and scrub. Willard placed a firm hand on his shoulders, forcing Heyes into a kneeling position.
“Time to say your prayers, Heyes! You’d better stay like that unless you want a bullet in the head!” he spat at him. He then moved away, to cover, behind a rock, with other members of the gang hidden in a variety of positions around the clearing.

Heyes closed his eyes, inwardly cursing, recognizing the hopeless position he was in. Not only did Kid Curry not know where he was, he was not the man they thought he was any more. Heyes wasn’t even sure that Kid would be emotionally able to deal with this.

Kid Curry had spent the night, not far off the main track out of town. The indefinable link he felt to Heyes had prevented him from moving too far. One part of him hoped his partner would follow after him, whilst another felt like turning on his heels and heading back to town. He felt so mixed up, and confused, at the moment that he couldn’t decide what to do for the best. He still felt Heyes would be more likely to get the amnesty without him.

He decided to compromise, and made camp for the night a few miles out of town, while he tried to think things through more clearly. He tried to sleep, but his thoughts kept him awake. Not long after he had settled down, he heard horses’ hooves coming along the road.

He smiled, Heyes had followed. He edged nearer to the road, to get the self satisfaction of seeing his partner on his trail. What he did see was a group of four men, one leading another horse, with something, no, someone, across the saddle. For a brief moment the moon crept from behind the clouds and Kid recognised Zeb Machlan and his men. Hanging from the horn of the saddle of the horse being led was Heyes’ hat!

Kid quietly retuned to his camp, put his things together and set off to trail the group.

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

Heyes remained on his knees for what felt like hours, until his legs began to tremble and give way.
Eventually his legs buckled, and he fell to the floor. In an instant a shot rang out, hitting the ground close to his head.

“Back on your knees, Heyes, we ain’t finished yet.” called Mac. Heyes struggled to try and sit back up, but with his hands still tied behind his back, and with being so weak from kneeling so long, he couldn’t get back up. Willard strode over to him.

“Will you look at that, Mac, he looks just like a landed fish, wriggling away there! You reckon I ought to gut him now?”

He produced a large, hunting knife from his belt, pressing it against Heyes’ cheek. He then grabbed Heyes by the hair, forcing him back onto his knees and held the knife to his throat.
Mac was about to say something else when, suddenly, a familiar voice called out.
“You’d best let him be, unless you want to answer to me. Think we’ve got some unfinished business.”

A wave of relief swept over Heyes, at the sound of his partner’s voice.
Willard let the knife fall away from Heyes’ throat but still held firmly to his hair, whilst he and Mac spun round trying to locate Kid Curry.

“Why don’t you come on out here and show yourself, Curry, and we can finish it now?” shouted Mac.

“If I do that, we both know that your two friends, over there by those rocks, will just shoot me in the back.” Kid replied, referring to the Clements brothers.

“Well, looks like we might have a bit of a situation here, don’t it? Tell you what, we’ll play a new game, give you more of a sporting chance. What you say, Curry?” called Mac.

“What you got in mind?” answered Kid.

Mac whispered something to Willard, who responded with a wicked grin. Mac’s idea brought back memories of their time in the army together. They hauled Heyes to his feet and pulled him towards a nearby tree.

Willard went off, and returned with a largish rock, whilst Mac held a gun to Heyes’ temple. He knew Curry was a good shot but would be unwilling to risk it in such a situation.

The rock was placed under the tree and Heyes was made to stand on it, wobbling precariously as he placed his feet on it, the task being made doubly difficult by the fact his hands were still tied behind his back. Still a gun was held close to his head as Willard went off towards the horses, tethered nearby, and came back with a rope. The noose end was slung over a branch of the tree and placed over Heyes’ head and around his neck, whilst the long end was tied to the tree trunk.

Heyes wished more than anything that he wasn’t wearing the gag and could call out to Kid, to reassure him that he was still his partner, and still trusted him with his life.

Slowly Mac and Willard moved away from Heyes, scanning the surrounding area, guns drawn. They carefully made their way back to the cover of a group of rocks and settled down to wait to see what Kid Curry’s next move would be.

Kid watched Heyes trying to keep his balance on the rock, as it rocked beneath him. He could see his dark eyes, full of concentration, whilst he too scanned the vicinity for his partner, as best he could.

Kid cursed under his breath. How did Heyes manage to get himself in these situations and how was he going to get him out of this one?

As he was pondering, Heyes, who had turned his head slightly to see if Kid was to his left, lost balance and slipped. The rope tightened around his neck as he struggled to regain his footing. Heyes fought the panic rising within him as he tried to breathe, consciously focusing on his breathing deeply through his nose, as since the gag made it impossible to take in air through his mouth. He could hear Mac and his men laughing, at his dilemma, and he felt the anger rise within him. “Come on, Kid - do something.” he pleaded silently.

At the sight of Heyes’ distress, Kid reached for his gun, which, thankfully he had decided to put on, once he had seen the Machlan gang with Heyes as their prisoner. What he had not done recently was clean it.

“Hell!” he said softly, knowing that this would affect the accuracy of his shots. He knew Heyes wouldn’t be able to stand there much longer, but a dirty gun was of no use. Quietly, and carefully, he made his way back to his horse, where he proceeded to get the equipment necessary to clean his gun, from his saddle bags. He knew this was taking precious time that he could ill afford, but at the same time recognized it had to be done.

“What’s keeping your partner, Heyes? Reckon he’s gone and run out on you. Don’t worry too much, we’ll catch up with him, then you can have a happy reunion, unless of course you’re dead by then!” shouted out Mac. He was getting fed up of waiting for Kid Curry to make his move, and so Mac decided to speed up the action a little.

Kid was startled at the gang’s first shot as they took it in turns to shoot at the rock on which Heyes was standing. Kid concentrated on the job in hand, one that was so familiar to him he could have done it with his eyes closed. With every passing second he was aware that Heyes’ plight was becoming more and more tenuous. Finally he finished cleaning his gun and put it quickly, and expertly, back together. He loaded it, and checked it one more time, before making his way back down the hill towards the clearing and his partner.

As Kid approached the area, using trees and rocks for cover, he suddenly heard Heyes cry out in pain. One of Joe’s shots had caught him in the lower leg. His knees gave way, and he began to fall.
To Kid Curry, it all seemed to happen in slow motion, but there was nothing slow about his draw, as he pulled the gun from its holster, and in one smooth action he fired.

The bullet sliced the rope just before the weight of Heyes’ body made it go taut. Heyes fell to the ground, like a rag doll in a crumpled heap.

Kid dived towards him, rolling across the ground for protection, firing as he went. The first shot caught Jake in the right arm, causing him to instantly drop his gun. Kid turned and hit Willard in the side, as he jumped for cover. His third shot landed in Mac’s chest and the man dropped to the ground, with a stunned expression of total disbelief.

Joe Clements began to scramble up the hill, desperately trying to get away.

Kid was torn between going to Heyes, and finishing the job. He called out to Joe, who, unwisely, turned to see where the shout had come from, giving Kid the opportunity to hit him squarely in the left shoulder, just above his heart.

Joe fell and rolled down the hill, landing not far from Kid’s feet.

He had one bullet left in his chamber, and he lifted his gun, and pointed it between Joe’s eyes. His finger rested on the trigger but then he hesitated. He turned to Heyes, focussing his attention back on his injured partner. As he got closer to his friend, he caught a movement in the corner of his eye, as Willard, making one last attempt to get Curry, raised his Colt 45, aimed at Kid, and fired. The shot glanced off Kid’s shoulder, barely grazing it, as he spontaneously fired back, landing a shot clean through Willard’s heart.

By the time Kid got to him, Heyes had managed to manoeuvre himself, so that he was lying on his side. He watched as Kid walked towards him, relieved to see he was still in one piece.

Without saying a word Kid started to untie the thongs that bound his wrists, while Heyes impatiently grunted his desire for him to remove the gag. Kid chose to ignore him, revelling in this moment of control over the situation. It took several minutes to untie the thongs, before Kid moved to remove the gag from Heyes’ mouth, then turned his attention to the gash in his leg, and was relieved to see it wasn’t too deep. As Heyes was about to speak, Kid removed his own bandana, and pressed it on the wound, the sudden pain as he did so, causing Heyes to gasp, cutting off what he was about to say, as he sucked air in through his teeth. Kid looked back over his shoulder at his partner, concern showing in his face.

“What kept you?” Heyes asked finally, before breaking into a wide, dimpled grin.

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

The group made a sorry sight as they went down the trail, the bodies of Zeb Machlan and Tom Willard slung over their horses. The Clement brothers were tied to their horses, as Kid led the procession towards Oakley.

Heyes rode at the front of the group, where Kid felt he could keep an eye on him, and he brought up the rear.

As they drew near to the town Kid called a stop. He rode forward to Heyes and enquired how he was feeling.

“Don’t think we should risk riding into town. You think you’re up to riding on a bit further if I send this sorry bunch on in?” Kid asked Heyes, who agreed it seemed like a sensible plan, and said that he was feeling fine.

Kid tied the four horses together and looked at the Clement boys. “If you don’t want to bleed to death I suggest you ride on into town. I’ll leave it to you to decide what you tell the sheriff.”

He fixed them both with a cold, icy stare, looking every inch the man they thought he had been at the beginning. He took one last look at Joe saying “I suggest that if you ever see us again, you keep your mouth shut, and look the other way. I might not be so generous next time.”

With that he slapped Jake’s horse’s rump, sending them down the trail at a trot.

He turned back to his partner, stopping his horse alongside of Heyes’. Kid looked at his friend’s face, firstly to check he was alright, and secondly, because he realised how close they’d come to losing each other. A look of understanding passed between them.

“You know, that was quite some shot, back there, slicing that rope like that?” Heyes said eventually.

“Not really, Heyes,” responded Kid, “I was aiming for your head!”

Heyes, slightly taken aback for a second, broke into a wide grin. “Welcome back, Kid!” he laughed, as they turned their horses down the trail, together.

SquidgeWorld Archive

Site Navigation

Actions

Work Header