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Stepping from the train, Mr. Simon Greenwood stopped to shake dust and wrinkles from his suit before making a beeline for the only visible saloon. ‘The Roaring Gimlet.' Seeing its name, he rolled his brown eyes. ‘The further West I travel the odder the names of the businesses, you would think by now I would be acclimated to such eccentricities.' He thought, pushing through the creaking batwing doors into the gray gloom where he spied a thin, one-legged man scrutinizing him.
Walking over, Simon Greenwood removed his round derby and holding it daintily before his chest asked, "By chance Sir, would you be able to assist me?"
"All depends what you be needing?"
"Well, I have heard smoke and moccasin rumors, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were through here." Greenwood said reeling out an overly large smile, "So my good man, might you have any news which would substantiate such accounts?"
With a scowl, the man grabbed his crutches quickly swinging himself around the end of the bar; he snatched a bottle from the shelf. "You aiming to buy drink?"
Laying a dollar on the bar, Greenwood did not even look at the foggy shot of red liquor shoved his way. "Anything at all would be much appreciated."
The barkeep snorted, poured his self a shot and drank it down, "Hell I got me more sense than to believe half the rumors I hear floating about." But even as he spoke, he scratched at his chin his eyes shifting toward the poker game in the back corner.
Seeing this, Greenwood leaned closer, "I understand Sir but perhaps there is someone you know of . . ." he laid another dollar on the stained bar, "someone who might believe in such chatter?"
"Well . . . Sue Reno goes on about them outlaws being here. Don't know if she's whitewashing or not, t'wasn't here myself."
"Sue Reno, you say." Greenwood's tight smile relaxed, "By chance, is she here?"
"She's back haunting that there poker game, looking for a gent." The barkeep said with knowing nod.
"Ah yes, I understand." Greenwood replied quickly, laying another dollar on the bar, "May I have a bottle and two glasses."
Picking them up, Greenwood went in search of his quarry and seeing a woman draped across the shoulders of a cowhand, he asked, "Sue Reno?"
Her dull green eyes rose slowly taking in his soft, round body without a spark of interest until she saw the bottle and two glasses. Sraightening up, she brushed at her frizzy blonde hair and drawled, "Why, yes I am." Then laying a hand to her chest, she dipped her head with a smile almost charming enough to make him believe it was actually for him but he knew better, her smile was for the money in his pocket and the whiskey in his hand.
"Ma'am, perhaps we could retire to a quiet corner where we could chat over a drink like old chums?"
Hearing this, the cowhand latched onto Sue's hand reminding her he had plans for later. Turning she patted his cheek like a child while bending near to whisper sweet promises in his ear till he smiled releasing his greedy grip. Brushing once more at her falling hair Sue sashayed over taking Simon Greenwood by the arm, "Why I do believe a chat sounds . . . uhm . . . lovely. Let's sit over near the front windows and catch a breath of air while were at it."
Setting down the bottle Greenwood, pulled out a chair for her even as she picked the whiskey up immediately filling both glasses. "To great friendships." She gushed toasting him, swallowing the drink in one gulp and just as quickly refilling her glass. However, before she could lift it to her lips, Greenwood took his seat laying a hand across the top of the glass.
"Ms Reno--"
"Sue, dear, just Sue." She said dropping in her chair and then tracing a finger across the back of Greenwood's hand.
Smiling, Greenwood said, "Alright Sue then, let me introduce myself. I am Simon Greenwood of Street and Smith Publishing of New York."
Her face twisted and he paused, waiting for her to catch up, "You see, I am an author of novels which assist in educating the world to the grand adventurers and brave people of this majestic country."
Nodding just a bit, Sue picked up her glass downing the pale liquor, "So you write them dime novels." She said flatly reaching for the bottle.
"Oh no Sue, allow me." Simon crooned taking up the whiskey, "You see. . ." He paused dribbling a bit into her glass, "I heard you were lucky enough to spend an evening with Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry?"
She sat rock still watching him until at last she leaned back cradling her freshly filled drink between her palms "Yes, I did."
"I would be most appreciative, Sue, if you would apprise me of all the details you can recall."
This time as she looked him over the dullness was gone from her eyes, "I'd like you to know, Heyes and Curry them were real men, nerves of iron, I tell you." Her eyes shifted to look through the dusty window to the street beyond, "The pair of them were here last September. I recall it all real well. See it was one of them hot still days where everyone just hunkers down and I was sitting right over there when I heard them doors squeak." She turned, looking toward the batwings hanging lazily in their hinges. "And, there stood Kid Curry. Oh I didn't know it was he at that time but he was a vision to behold." She said taking a sip of her whiskey. "There was dust swirling around in him in that late hot light of the day and it all seemed to light him up somehows. He was tall and his eyes scanned the room as if he owned all he saw within and when those blue, blue eyes looked at me . . . why Simon my heart fluttered and smiled like schoolgirl. He tipped his hat and looking back over his shoulder said something, I suppose it was about the room being all clear for in that same breath in stepped his partner. I should have known right then they were wanted." Emptying her glass, Sue set it down leaning forward on the table. "Hannibal Heyes is exactly all you've ever heard. He matches The Kid in height with eyes so sharp they reminds you of a hawk and he is ever inch as dark and The Kid is fair. Quite the combo let me tell you, I would remember them till my dying day even if nothing else had happened that night. But, you're in luck Mr. Greenwood, things did happen that night." Sue looked expectantly at her empty glass.
"Please do go on." Greenwood said setting the bottle down to pull a small journal book from his pocket.
Refilling her glass, Sue sat back gesturing toward the large table near the center of the room. "Over there, some hands from the Bar and Anvil ranch had them a game going. I can't rightly recall who all was here, but ‘cause of the turn of events I can say for sure Brant Tomly was amongst'em. Heyes he got them seats in that game right away and from there on everything got pretty damn boring. Them men weren't interested in nothing but drinking and them pasteboards. Round after midnight, The Kid says he's done. And, I could see why, his luck sure wasn't holding up. When he got up, I was right there serving a round of drinks and I could see he was plain tuckered out, his blue eyes were cloudy and heavy. I truly recollect agreeing with him as I felt just as tired but returned to my chair where I was keeping watch. I know I said watching men play poker is boring, but I tell you there isn't anything else to do in the early dawn hours ‘round here. And, this here saloon ain't about to close as long as there is a plug nickel to be made. You can bet the time of day on that.
So Curry he was braced up against the bar and two of us just kept at watching the others. Until a game comes up where the pot has grown fairly large and then with a grin Heyes tosses in forty dollars like it ain't nothing but small change. Well them Bar and Anvil hands don't think much of that because Heyes has already taken most their money so in the end everyone of them folds ‘cepting Brant Tomly." Sue stops and reaching into her bodice pulls out a small case and from it removes a twisted cigarette. In fascination, Greenwood watched her strike a match, inhaling deeply till the paper rippled red and taking another drink she picked up her narrative, "See, you ain't from around here so you don't know about Brant Tomly's temper but just believe when I say it's legendary. So when I see him staring daggers at this dark haired stranger I starts fretting and thinking of ways to dissuade him from flying of the handle. When one of his pardners says ‘Damnation Brant you giving in or playing through?' I suppose that was the spark that lit the fuse. For Brant, he leaps onto the table snatching Heyes up by the front of his shirt before you can say shoo-fly. And to top it off, Brant has his .44 stuck right in Heyes's face." Leaning forward and setting her glass down hard on the table, Sue points at Greenwood the stub of her cigarette, "This be why I say Hannibal Heyes has nerves of iron because I wasn't sitting much further from him than I am you right this minute and Heyes he never broke a sweat. Hell, he didn't even flinch when Brant rammed that big old gun in his face. Never went so far as to blink an eye as Brant hollered, ‘I know's you been cheatin' just can't figure out how… now I want you to admit you're a cheater!!'
Simon, the tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I have heard that expression since I was a girl and this is the only time in my life I understood what it meant. And do you know what Heyes does?
Simon Greenwood shook his head.
He looks at Brant over the barrel of that .44 and says, mind you says with a smile, ‘I ain't never cheated, just dancing with Lady Fate."
His coolness seems to rile Brant up further because I can see the muscles in his jaw flexing and I think, oh hell, he's going to blow this dark haired man's brains all over this place. When Brant is sent flying backwards by a bullet from Kid Curry's gun and as he hits the floor I realize most of us were holding our breaths ‘cause you could hear a sigh as we all let go. And. . ." Sue smiled largely. "This is when I found out who they were, Heyes and Curry, I mean. ‘Cause even as The Kid was hurrying over to the table the echo of him yelling ‘Heyes' was still ringing in the air. Every person in the room looked at him standing next to his partner with smoke still rolling from the barrel of his gun and each and every one of us knew who they were.
The Kid, he looks real calm like at the Brant bleeding all over his self and says, ‘If any of you claim him as a pal, you might want to take him over to the doc before he bleeds to death?' It was like he released'em. Them men set to scurrying about like herd of prairie dogs. But I'll tell ya, Simon, they weren't rushing for Brant's benefit. No they was scared and scared men like to run, I know, I seen it a lot working here.
Once they was all gone, The Kid, he looked down at Heyes and I ain't ever seen such relief in a person's eyes. I thought Curry was going to grab his partner up in a bit ole bear hug but instead, he says, ‘Guess he ruffled you a bit.'
A look of such sheer surprise formed on Hannibal Heyes's face I almost laughed out loud for I too had thought he'd done a bang up job of remaining in control with a .44 planted between his eyes.
‘You said dancing with Lady Fate – it's Lady Luck, Heyes. We all know she's the one in charge of games of chance.'
Heyes he grinned and shook his head, ‘Kid like I keep telling you there is no such thing as luck in poker and besides I meant what I said, I was dancing with Lady Fate.' And saying this he stood, tossing his cards onto the table where they spilled out Hickok's Deadman's hand. Seeing the aces and eights, Curry frowned deeply.
‘So partner thanks for stepping in.' Heyes said laughing clapping Curry on the shoulder his face lighting up like sunshine after a thunderstorm. Before I knew it, they cleaned up their winnings, tossed me a silver eagle, threw two more on the bar and they were gone into the night."
Sue sat back again, looked at the pale whiskey in the bottom of her glass then drank it down, "So there you go, that's my tale of an evening with Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes…just make sure you write it like I told you. Don't go making them out to be bastards or murders for they was real gents through and through."
"Why no Sue, I would not dream of doing such a thing, fact is it all sounds like a hero's tale." Simon said at last swallowing down his shot of whiskey.
"A hero's tale. . . I like that Simon."
Wiping his mouth, Simon Greenwood stood, put his hat on, tipped it to Sue with a smile, "Yes I will make it a grand tale besides we all know it is only the banks and railroads whom have anything against Heyes and Curry anyway. Good evening to you, Ma'am."
The End