SCAPEGOAT
Alias Smith and Jones – Drena Hills
“The great thought, the great
concern, the great anxiety of men
is to restrict as much as
possible, the limits of their responsibility.
-
Giosue Borsi
RIVER CREAK
1883
Post Amnesty
He drifted into town wet, cold and
short on patience with anyone attempting to distract him from dealing with
either problem.
He didn’t talk much, the livery man
noted later, just paid to have his horse taken care of for the night and then
slogged through the mud and rain to the town’s only hotel worth taking a chance
on.
River Creek
Record of events showed the stranger
checked into the hotel paying cash for a bath and a room for one night and
inquiring about a hot meal and a drink.
Since there was only one place in town that handled both he was directed
to the Silver Dollar where most of the miner’s pay returned back to the
company.
It was a Friday night and despite the
rain or perhaps in spite of it the saloon was full when he entered. There was the customary momentary pause in
noise while he was evaluated, but the miner’s were too tired to show him much
interest so he got his food without notice and settled down at the end of the
bar with a beer and an order for second helpings.
Zeke Dugan arrived 10 minutes later
with what he was now calling his entourage.
He had picked up the 20 dollar word in
The stranger was about equal in age
with Zeke, Micky the Barman reported later, both probably a shy less than 25,
with the stranger the younger of the two.
What the fight was about no one seemed
to have caught, not that it mattered, Zeke was looking for a diversion and a
man just breathing would have set him off.
Unfortunately for the first time in
his sheltered, spoilt life he had run into a man who could not only take care
of himself, he could take care of Zeke.
It was noted that Zeke did have to
draw first to get the boy to go for his gun, not that it mattered, the stranger
was like lightning taking Zeke down in one quick shot and then both his friends
as they braced to back up their friend.
The whole thing was over in maybe a
minute.
The room stood there stunned, the
stranger knowing being in the right often didn’t matter a whole lot, paid for
his meal and drink and calmly exited the saloon never once looking back.
They caught up to him just after
midnight pulling him from his bed; as the mob caught in a drunken fever of self
preservation had kicked down the door.
They weren’t going to have Tom Dugan’s wrath down on them for not
looking after his boy and it had been quickly voted by the town fathers that
having Zeke Dugan’s killer hanging from the livery arch when Tom rode in would
certainly help his mood some.
The stranger was probably not even
conscious when the noose went around his neck, the rain coming down so hard it
took two tries to get the rope over the makeshift gallows and secure it.
Just about the whole town had come out
to see justice being administered, no one wanting to have to explain to Mr.
Dugan why they hadn’t been part of avenging his son’s death.
As far as hangings went it was fairly
uneventful if you don’t count the lightning; the fella didn’t even kick.
Sobered by the body illuminated in the
flashes of light the crowd broke up quickly scurrying home like cockroaches
caught in the morning light.
It took two days for Dugan to get word
what with the storm and the body waited for him. In the meantime the stranger’s belongings had
been packed up and given to the undertaker who upon examining them was more
than slightly startled to learn the man’s identity, or more to the point the
identity of his kin.
So by the time Tom Dugan rode in stone
faced and silent there was a great deal of anxiety over reprisals.
Dugan had little sympathy. His men collected his son’s coffin and upon
learning of the fear spreading through the town he stood in the street and spat
at their feet and explained it was what they deserved for letting a stranger
come in and mow down his only son. They
would get no help from him. In fact it
was justice. They were as guilty as the
man that had shot him.
And so River Creek Bend closed in on
itself gripped in terror for the reckoning they knew would come.
***************************
Hannibal Heyes stopped at the edge of town and read
the sign trying not to make a judgment too quick, despite his curiosity over
why anyone would name a town River Creek
But having not seen a soft bed in
three days he was willing to overlook such things in exchange for a bath, a
meal he didn’t have to make and maybe a hand of poker, hopefully with the men who
had named the town.
Pulling up to the livery stable he was
suddenly conscious of being watched and tried to shake off the old wariness he
had lived with so long. Reminding
himself it made no difference at all if he had been recognized he walked his
horse over to the stable door surprised to find it shut tight.
“I do not believe it! Hannibal Heyes!” a voice came from the side
of the building and squinting against the sun Heyes searched his memory for a
name.
“Hobo?” he said as the lanky unshaven
man rushed to meet him.
“I sure am glad it’s just you!” Hobo
gushed and then turning took off his trail worn hat and waved it towards the
center of town. “Its all right I know him!” he yelled; smiling he turned back
to Heyes almost respectfully. “Sure is a
pleasure to see you again sir!”
Heyes bit back a smile. Hobo had only been with the gang a little
over six months quickly realizing he just didn’t have the heart for
outlawing…or as Wheat had graphically put it “the balls.”
“Good to see you too Hobo,” Heyes
smiled relieved that even having been recognized he was not considered a
threat. “You living here now?” he asked
as Hobo opened the stable door and pulled his horse inside.
“Yes sir, doing right fine I am, look
after the horses here.”
Heyes remained poker face. The man stunk of old whiskey and worse
smells. Hobo always had been partial to
a drink or six, but he seemed sober enough now and it never hurt to have a
friend in a strange town.
“So why all the concern when I rode
in?” Heyes asked lightly as he pulled off his saddle bags.
“I heard about your amnesty, hot damn
that was something you and Mr. Curry getting that!”
“Yea we were pretty lucky,” Heyes
agreed letting the man dodge his question for the moment. “You still got Billy?” Heyes said looking
around for the man’s dog that had followed him everywhere.
Hobo’s face fell, “No sir, Billy…died
about 2 months ago.”
“I’m sorry Hobo; I know how much he
meant to you.”
“Thank you sir,” Hobo said his face
brightening that Heyes had both remembered and sincerely cared. “You just stopping by for some supplies?” he
asked hopeful.
“And a soft bed, a little trail worn.”
“Staying the night huh?” Hobo said
clearly uneasy.
“Yea I’m supposed to meet Kid in St.
George tomorrow.”
“I wondered where he was!” Hobo said
excited at the mention of his hero’s name.
Heyes grinned, every day for the
entire six months he had been at Devil’s Hole; Hobo had followed Kid out to
watch him practice. At first Kid had
been annoyed, but the man’s devotion was hard to squelch and finally Kid just
resigned himself to putting up with being adored, or more to the point Heyes’s
amusement at him being adored.
“I’ll give him your best when I see
him,” Heyes promised pulling a dollar out of his pocket. “This cover looking after him for the night?”
“Oh yes sir! More than enough!” Hobo said grateful his
eyes glistening at the thought of the bottle he could buy with the extra 50
cents.
“Recommend a hotel?” Heyes said
walking towards the door.
Hobo opened his mouth looking suddenly
apprehensive, “You sure you wanna stay the night? St. George ain’t that far a ride, much better
hotels there!”
Heyes frowned at the man’s reluctance
to make him feel welcome.
“Hobo is there a reason I shouldn’t
stay here tonight?”
Hobo thought about this and finally
shook his head no, “No sir I reckon not.
You have a good stay and I’ll take fine care of your horse!”
Heyes nodded unconvinced and before
leaving the stable compound checked his gun.
******************************
“
“Its true sir, it ain’t Landers, I
rode with Heyes back in 78,” Hobo said frightened at the important men all
gathered in the stable.
“He said he was leaving in the
morning?” Dan Lister, owner of the
General Store pressed.
“Yes sir, to meet up with the Kid,”
Hobo said taking a step back wondering if he should have even said that much.
“The Kid, you mean Kid Curry?” Truman
frowned.
“I say we send him on his way now,”
banker Jonathan Redman shouted. “Bad
enough we got one gunslinger on his way to kill us.”
“This Kid Curry,” Lister said quietly.
“He as fast as they say?”
“Fastest man that ever lived!” Hobo said loyally.
All three businessmen looked at each
other the same thought occurring to them.
“He hire out his gun?” Truman asked bluntly.
Hobo understood and shook his head sad
to disappoint them, “No sir, sorry, he’s got a real strict rule about
that. In fact he don’t even draw unless
you give him a real good reason.”
“And what would be a real good
reason?” Lister asked his eyes eager.
“Well to save his life or his
cousins. Him and Mr. Heyes are real
close.”
“Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry are
family?” Redman asked excited.
“Yes sir, only family each others got,
Heyes told me that once,” Hobo smiled proud to suggest he was that close to the
famous man.
“Thank you Hobo you’ve done real
good,” Truman said patting him on the back.
“You tell Micky I owe you a drink when you come in next.”
“Yes sir! Thank you sir!” He watched them leave and suddenly felt a
wariness that confused him. “Sir you got
nothing to worry about from Mr. Heyes, he won’t cause no trouble. I’d hate to see you ask him to leave, he seemed
plum tuckered out.”
Truman looked at the two other men who
chuckled. “Oh no Hobo, don’t you worry
about that, in fact were planning on having Mr. Heyes stay around a spell!”
************************
“Evenin,” Kid Curry said from atop his
horse.
The man in the process of unsaddling
his horse by the small pool of water didn’t seem surprised he was not alone and
continued to unhook his gear; though Kid didn’t miss he did it with one hand
leaving his gun arm free.
“Evenin’,” the stranger replied his
voice deep. “Wondered if you were gonna
decide to catch up.”
Kid smiled. He had made a point to stay out of the man’s
line of sight until he determined he didn’t have choice. The man was no green horn if he had spotted
him.
“Well if you know this area like I do
then you know this is the only water for 10 miles.”
“Yea and I got here first,” the man
said. There was no threat in his voice yet, just a statement.
“And enough I figure for two so I
thought we might share,” Kid went on amiably.
“You did, did ya?” the man said and
for the first time turned so Kid could get a good look at him.
Taller than him, maybe by an inch,
perhaps a year older than Heyes, but his dark green eyes were misleading,
looking older than the rest of him. The
hair was dark, left long to his collar and hung around his weather beaten face
like an afterthought.
He was muscular and wore the clothes
of a man who lived most of his life on the trail and chose durability over
fashion, but they suited him.
Kid had all ready noted the gun laced
down on his right side. Both the holster
and the weapon looked worn in. Kid had no
proof the man was any good with it, but he knew he was. Call it instinct or a sense or maybe just the
survival skill that came with recognizing your own kind.
The stranger took the time to give Kid
the same once over. He respected he had
not tried to leave his horse, kept his body language loose and friendly. Hard to respect a man who would ride into a
man’s camp and make himself at home without asking first. And he had asked civilly. Trouble was that gun of his was tied down and
unhooked. He could respect that too, but
he didn’t have to invite trouble in.
“You got a name?” the stranger asked
digging a cigarette paper out of his pocket, still only using one hand.
“That gonna make a difference on
whether I can water my horse?” Kid asked.
“Might,” the man said honestly.
Kid considered giving the man an alias
and dismissed it just as quickly. A
stubborn pride exploded in him on the day he had been pardoned and after years
of having to pretend to be someone else he balked at the need now.
“Curry.”
The man’s only reaction was a slight
raised eyebrow.
“Landers, Clay Landers.”
Kid sat back in his saddle a bit. Clay Landers’s name had been linked with his almost
as many times as Heyes’s. The gunfighter
was a legend and more than one dime novel had speculated on how a meeting of
the two might end.
“Well Mr. Landers I got coffee and
bacon I’m willing to share for some of that water, we got a deal?”
“Ran out of coffee two days ago,”
Landers admitted. “Water ain’t gonna be
much use to me without it, got yourself a deal.”
Kid dismounted making a point to never
turn his back to the man and noted he did the same. They were both working on rumors until they
got to know one another and even then a friendship was doubtful.
“So you headed into St. George?” Kid
asked pulling his horse’s saddle off.
“Yea,” Landers admitted hoping the man
wasn’t going to talk him to death.
Curiosity had made him give in and invite him to stay, but he wasn’t
that curious.
Kid nodded and went about setting up
his camp silently and Landers sighed relieved.
A gun battle he could have lived with, a companion that talked his ear
off was a much slower death.
*******************************
The Silver Dollar made no notice of
Heyes when he entered an hour later and that’s when he knew he had a
problem. A town that kept sentries to
check out strangers would certainly at least pause when one walked in and
especially one as infamous as he was. He
had no doubt Hobo had bragged on who he was for a least one free drink by now
and the fact that no one seemed the slightest bit interested in him should have
been a God send, but he knew better.
Taking his plate and coffee to a far
table he sat down and waited for the other shoe to fall, it didn’t take long.
“Mr. Heyes?” one of three men said
pleasantly.
Banker, Heyes guessed.
“I am Daniel Lister the proprietor of
the Mercantile across the street.”
Chief store owner, his second guess.
“This is our mayor, Paul Truman and
our bank manger Jonathan Redman.”
“Gentlemen,” Heyes said and waited.
“We were wondering if we might speak
with you a moment?”
“No sheriff?” Heyes asked
pleasantly. “The suggestion to leave
town usually brings the sheriff as well or is he behind me with a drawn six
gun?”
The three men chuckled nervously.
“Our sheriff resigned last week,” the
mayor said with a cough.
“Are you offering me the job?” Heyes
asked amused.
The men looked even more worried.
“Oh no sir, not at all, but we do have
an offer for you,” Redman said pulling up a chair and at his daring the other
two followed.
Heyes went back to his supper
indicating they should continue while his free hand unhooked his gun under the
table.
“Mr. Heyes what do you know about Clay
Landers?”
Heyes looked up surprised, “The gunman?”
“Yes.”
“Never met him, heard he’s fast, did
some work in
“He is a cold blooded killer with over
a 100 men to his name!”
“Well I don’t get time dime novels
much,” Heyes said apologizing sardonically.
“How many men has your cousin murdered?”
Truman asked bluntly.
Heyes frowned not liking where this
was going.
“My cousin doesn’t murder people Mr.
Truman,” Heyes said moving to stand.
“Forgive me, Mr. Heyes we didn’t mean
to offend you or your cousin,” Lister said soothingly shooting his friend a
warning look. “We have a problem and are
willing to offer you and your cousin $1000 to solve it.”
“That’s a lot of money.” Heyes said
sitting back down reluctantly. “What
would we have to do for it?”
“Defend the town against Clay
Landers,” Lister said eagerly.
“One man against a whole town? Seems to me Landers is the one who needs
help,” Heyes said feigning confusion.
“This town is no matched for an
experienced gunman! We need someone of
his ilk to take him on!” Truman snapped.
“And that would be Kid Curry?” Heyes
guessed innocently.
“Mr. Heyes your cousin is the only man
who has a chance against Landers!” Redman said earnestly.
“I don’t know I’ve heard Landers is
pretty fast,” Heyes said amazed at the offer and not sure whether to overturn
the table on them or laugh.
“Not as fast as Curry!” Truman said quickly pulling a piece of paper
out of his pocket. “We got this telegram
from a sheriff in Green Rivers where Landers had been waiting for his brother,
seems word has spread about what happened up here.”
“Well that explains why the sheriff
quit!” Heyes smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“He is going to want the man who
killed his brother to meet him.”
“Well there is the solution to your
problem, have that man face him!” Heyes said trying to get up again.
“One man didn’t kill him,” Lister
swallowed.
Heyes sat back down, “He didn’t?”
“Whole town did,” Lister said with
almost a sob in his voice. “We hung
him.”
“If he broke the law then…” Heyes
stopped. “He didn’t break the law did
he?”
“He killed three men!” Truman snarled.
“Did he have a trial?” Heyes asked
coldly.
“No…Mr. Heyes there were extenuating
circumstances!” Redman tried to explain.
“There always are when the important
folk get into trouble,” Heyes replied and stood. “I’m sorry gentlemen, but by partner does not
hire his gun and you don’t have enough money to make me ask him to.”
Getting up he walked calmly to the
door and exited. It was time to leave
town. Suddenly another night on the
trail didn’t seem so bad after all.
*****************************
“Gonna open me a can of peaches,”
Landers said suddenly from across the fire.
“Probably my worse weakness, you fancy some?”
Kid smiled, “Thank you yes.”
Dinner had been cordial, but for the
most part silent and both men had eased into a respectful distrust of one
another that was working.
“So that tale about amnesty that all
true?” Landers said finally as they both settled down with knives to stab their
dessert.
“Yea, most of it, don’t believe
everything you heard,” Kid admitted.
“Oh so that tall tale about you saving
the Governor’s daughter from rampaging Apache ain’t true?”
Kid remained poker face. “Not even the one about his house being on
fire and my partner and I carrying his whole family including the dog to
safety.”
Landers laughed, “Yea I figured as
much. The son of a bitch made you work
for it.”
“Was worth it though, man don’t get
many second chances.”
Landers nodded, “Especially when he
packs a gun.” He paused if making a
decision about something. “You from
these parts?”
“No
“You ever been to a place called River
Creek Bend?”
Kid frowned. “Mining town?
Know of it, but can’t say I have.”
Lander’s nodded as if the conversation
had ended and Kid was obliged to go along with him. With any luck Heyes would be waiting for him
tomorrow and he’d do his talking then.
******************************
“Why the hell did you have to hit him so hard!” Redman moaned disgusted as the body was
dragged into the room and left into a heap on the floor.
The two miners just stared at the man
it had just taken them nearly twenty minutes to subdue and that had been with a
cowardly blow to the head from behind.
“Mr. Redman taking down a grizzly
would have been easier,” one sniffed his nose broken. “Hell your luck you got him at all, Jim is
bleeding so bad we had to leave him back there and I don’t know when Micah is
gonna wake up if ever. It took four of
us to even stand a chance against him. I can see why no posse ever did it.”
“Well did he tell you where his cousin
is?”
“What he told us Mr. Redman is to go
to hell and damn near took us there personally,” one of the miners frowned at
the memory.
“Utterly useless!” Truman growled waving the men away.
Disgusted the two miners left limping
and the three business men stared at the beaten man on the floor of Redman’s
bank. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as
simple as they had thought.
“How can we get him here in time if we
don’t know where they were meeting us?”
Lister said worried.
“Get Hobo in here, maybe he can talk
some sense into his former leader!”
*****************************
“Well good luck to ya,” Kid said the
next morning as they two riders reached the outskirts of town and paused warily
to consider it.
“Yea same to you, I’d offer to buy you
a drink but I hear the town is dry.
Besides if the sheriff got wind as to who we are and saw us together
we’d probably make him wet himself,” Landers said dryly and Kid laughed.
“Nice to have met the legend,” Kid
said offering his hand.
“Same here,” Landers agreed and took
it.
Kid allowed the man to go ahead and
sat for a moment trying to decide what to do first. In the old days it had been easy, check out
the sheriff, then the saloon for trouble and finally find a room if they could
afford it.
Now with money in his pocket he had
the option of a bath, a nap or hot food and he smiled to himself enjoying the
freedom.
Deciding a week on the trail warranted
the bath first he turned his horse down the main street enjoying the luxury of
entering a town without expecting trouble.
The feeling was short lived.
****************************
Hannibal Heyes opened his eyes and
blinked painfully at the light. He felt
like he had been kicked in the head by a horse, but knew, since the rest of his
body ached the same, he hadn’t been that lucky.
“Lister! Redman!
He’s awake!”
“About time!” Lister hissed.
“Mr. Heyes so good of you to join us,”
Truman said sarcastically as Heyes managed to push himself up to lean against
the wall beside him. Bars separating
them made him first presume he was in jail, but as his eyes focused he realized
he was next to a large safe.
“Where am I?” he managed to say
hoarsely.
“My bank,” Redman said. “We thought you were less conspicuous here
than the jail when your partner arrives.
Heyes looked up sharply, “And why
would he do that?’
“I’m sorry Heyes, but they were gonna
kill you,” Hobo said moving up to the bars frightened. “Don’t be mad, but I told them the Kid was in
St. George.”
“He saved your life Heyes and with a
little luck your partner will save ours and then you can both be on your way,”
Truman told him.
“Like hell, what’s the plan let Kid
distract Landers while you get someone to take a shot at them from the roof
behind?”
The three men stiffened at their plan
being ferreted out so quickly.
“Good day Mr. Heyes and don’t try to
escape, this bank is built like fortress, even in your day you couldn’t have
got into it.”
The group left and Heyes heard the
front door being locked and looked around trying to make the ringing in his
ears hush so he could think.
He had been locked in behind bars that
could probably withstand dynamite, not that he had any handy. Even if he could get out of the cage he was
in the windows were barred and the only door solid oak.
With a groan he leaned his head
gingerly back to rest against the wall.
He had to warn Kid of what he was walking into, but how? The only way out was with the keys.
Turning his head slightly he glanced
over at the safe next to him.
And where did most bankers keep the
extra set?
Forcing him self to move he dragged
his battered body around to the front of the safe. It was a massive thing and it had been around
a while, something not lost on Heyes.
Making his decision he settled down next to it and laid his head against
it like a lover and turned the dial. A
moment later he smiled dangerously and settled back with earnest.
He might have been cleared of outlawing, but that
didn’t mean he still wasn’t very good at it.
*******************************
Kid Curry stepped out of the bath house feeling human
again after a long hot scrub and the chance to slip into fresh laundered
clothes. He had not missed the wary eye
the proprietor had given him and his gun when he had entered, but he had
expected some apprehension here.
St George was a Mormon town founded during the Civil
War and prospered growing cotton to the point they nicknamed it
Crossing the street he found the diner not crowded and
securing a table in the corner ignored the stares directed at him and ordered
his food from a timid waiter who kept dropping silverware and apologizing. It didn’t take long to find out why.
“Sheriff wants to see you mister,” a young deputy
coughed straightening to look taller.
“I’m eating,” Kid said and continued to do so.
The deputy stood there not quite sure how to handle
this.
“He said now.”
“They always say now, sit down pour yourself a cup of
coffee,” Kid said kicking a chair out from the table for him.
Confused the deputy sat down and then realizing what
he was doing got back up.
“You gotta come with me now!”
“Why?” Kid asked stubbornly.
“Because, well because the sheriff said so!”
“And if I don’t?” Kid said his temper rising. He had done nothing, he wasn’t wanted and
this was his first real meal in a week.
It was going to take a lot more than a green lawman to budge him.
“Don’t make me draw on you mister.”
The threat actually sort of squeaked at the end and he
paled slightly when Kid looked up fire in his eyes.
“What?”
“I said…” the deputy found his voice was too dry to
form the words again.
“It’s all right Jeffrey,” a deep voice boomed and an
older man brushed the boy aside and took the chair Kid had kicked out.
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner Mr. Curry, but we need
to talk.
The deputy let out a strange gurgling sound; clearly
Kid’s identity was a revelation to him.
“Go back to the jail Jeffrey,” the sheriff sighed
pushing back his hat and looking at Kid interested. “Yea I knew it was you the minute you rode
in. I was in a posse once in
Kid nodded, “They don’t do that anymore.”
“Yea so I heard, saw you rode in with Clay Landers.”
“Met him on the trail that’s all.”
“
“No sir we are not.”
“Glad to hear that, but that still don’t mean I want
you in my town. You can finish your meal
and then move on.”
“I’m waiting for my partner.”
“Not here you aren’t,” the sheriff said rising and
then remembering something pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “Oh this came for you. Read it on your way OUT of town.”
Sighing Kid pushed away from the table his appetite
gone and opened the telegram. It was
from Heyes in River Creek Bend.
NEED YOU IN RIVER CREEK BEND
IN TROUBLE, HURRY,
Kid frowned at the paper wondering the last time Heyes
had signed anything with his first name.
Hell he had stopped using it in the second grade saying it was too many
letters to worry about.
Paying his check he hurried out the door not caring if
the sheriff thought his sudden urgency to leave town had been motivated by him.
His horse saddled he was gone ten minutes later.
Landers was only an hour behind him.
*********************************
Hobo huddled up in the corner of the stable hurting
and for the first time it wasn’t from lack of a bottle. The memory Heyes laying beaten on that floor
was haunting him. When he had ridden
into Devil’s Hole without a friend all those years ago
he had been a green boy scared of his own shadow. Why Heyes had let them stay he didn’t know,
but the one thing he was certain that while under his leadership he had felt
like he had a home for the first time in his life. Even though the jobs scared him to death the
time spent back at the Hole was too good to give up. It had been Heyes who had saved his hide on
that first job pushing him out of the way of a bullet and nearly getting hit
himself. He had treated him good, better
than anyone ever had and here he sat doing nothing to help him.
But Kid was coming.
Kid could do anything, hadn’t he seen that? Kid would rescue Heyes and they would both
ride off safe. Hobo let out a groan, the
hell they would. Redman and the others
were gonna kill him all. Desperate for a
drink he checked the empty bottle beside him again. It had been like that the night that fella
had been hung. He had heard them coming,
but been too drunk to do anything. And because
of that he could see the boy swinging in the wind every time he glanced up at
the post.
Did he want that same kind of memory of Heyes to haunt
his as well? With a sob he started to
cry and curled up in a tight ball of misery.
***********************
There was a time when Mayor Paul
Truman would have had no trouble picturing what the outlaw Kid Curry would look
like should he ride into his town. His
world had always had a very clear set of definitions in black and white. There were bad people and good people, he
most definitely being one of the good.
But lately the lines between right and wrong had begun blurring,
something he blamed on the commotion Clay Landers was causing and he wasn’t
quite sure what to expect of the famous gunman.
His partner had done a great deal to
add to the confusion. Hannibal Heyes had
not been the sly, wicked man who had eluded punishment that he had
expected. The loyal, courageous young
man who would have died before giving up his partner did not fit the stereotype
Truman had drawn up for him and it gnawed something fierce.
For if a bad man could be not all bad, then perhaps it was possible for a good man not to be all
good. And he could not let such a notion
take hold of him for then he would have to admit his guilt in the death of
Lander’s brother and a man needed to be able to sleep at night.
So when the boyish rider rode into
town looking like he hadn’t stopped for anything Truman was slightly
disconcerted. He looked younger than the
wanted poster they had found in the Sheriff’s office and the worry eating at
him showed in his stance as he watched out the window.
“You Curry?” Redman said appearing from the hotel with
Lister at his side.
Kid turned and took in the two
businessmen feeling his unease grow and it had nothing to do with being
recognized so quickly.
“I am.
I’m looking for my partner.”
“We need to talk,” Lister said turning
to walk back into the hotel never expecting the man to disobey him.
“We can talk fine right here, where’s
my partner Hannibal Heyes?”
Something had changed Truman noted
watching fascinated still from the window.
The worry in the man had changed to resolve, a dangerous resolve. It was like watching a cougar awake from
sleeping and realizing he is hungry.
“You want to ever see your partner
alive again you’ll do what we say!” Redman huffed.
“Mister if you wanna take another step
you're gonna tell me where my partner is,” Kid answered and made a serious show
of taking off his right glove.
“He is safe Mr. Curry,” Truman said
hurrying out suddenly afraid they had more to fear from this man than they ever
did from Landers. “I am Mayor
Truman. We need your help with a
problem. When you have done what we ask
you are both free to go.”
“Mister unless you can tell me a good
reason my partner and I are free to go right now,” Kid said his eyes now like
cold blue glass.
“You’ll never find him without our
help,” Lister bluffed. “There are a
hundred mine entrances within ten miles of this town. He’d die of starvation before you tracked him
down.”
“I’m listening.”
“We need you gun, a man is coming here
to kill…well kill a great many people and we want you to kill him first.”
“And what have this great many people
done to get this man so worked up?” Kid asked his face unreadable.
“That is unimportant. What matters is our town stays safe and if
you want your cousin back you’ll make sure it does!”
*****************************
Clay Landers reached the edge of town
more resigned than bent on revenge.
Jason had been a wild kid, far too cocky to live past thirty, even if he
did have some of Clay’s skill with a gun.
But despite their differences and even competition with one another he
had been his brother. If what he had
learned was true then Clay had been murdered for defending himself and that
left him with no choice, but to call out the man or men who did it.
Getting off his horse at the stable he
tied it to the corral and considered his options. They were bound to know he was coming and an
ambush was not out of the question. What
he hadn’t expected was the familiar figure walking towards him.
“Thought you left town pretty fast,”
Landers said rolling a smoke.
Kid let him light it, “Sheriff got a
bit nervous you and me visiting at the same time.”
“That the only reason you left so quickly,
or did the town council here decide to hire them some protection?”
“I don’t hire out my gun Landers,” Kid
said simply.
“And yet here we are.”
“They have my partner. I go up against you for them or they kill
him.”
Landers let some emotion show in his
eyes for the first time, “Son of a bitch, what kind of people are these?”
“What did they do to you?”
“Younger brother, lynched him and from
what I can make out he was only guilty of being able to defend himself. I was planning on finding out if the story
was true before I did anything, but their actions so far tend to convince me I
heard right.”
Kid let out a long breath, “I’m sorry,
I can understand your reasons, but I can’t let you endanger my partner’s life.”
“Then I reckon Mr. Curry we’re gonna
finally find out which of us really is the fastest.”
**************************
If you were to ask Hannibal Heyes what
the sweetest sound in the world was he would have to admit honestly it had to
do with the noise keys made when unlocking a jail cell. However coming in a close second was the
tantalizing click a safe handle made when it was pushed down after the final
number fell into place.
Exhaling he paused before he flung the
massive safe door open and wondered how long he had been at it. There had been no gun fire, but that didn’t
mean it wasn’t just about to start.
Shoving the door open he ignored the
great stacks of cash piled high inside and began checking the drawers. A moment later he had the prize in his
hand. God bless bankers for being so
predictable he grinned and a moment later had the steel door unlocked.
The side door also did not present a
problem and stepping to the alley he tried to relax and let his mind work on his
next problem, getting a gun.
“Mr. Heyes!” a small voice gasped and
turning preparing for a fight he found Hobo staring at him. “I was sitting here trying to figure out a
way to get you out, but the door it was locked real tight.”
Heyes didn’t even answer him snatching
up the rifle he was carrying.
“Mr. Curry is here and that Landers
fella, they are talking down by the stable!”
“Thanks Hobo,” Heyes said preparing to
move.
“They gonna face each other Mr. Heyes,
but neither got a chance!”
“What do you mean?” Heyes said turning
back sure he had guessed.
“They got six men on the roofs up down
the street, ain’t neither one of them coming out of this alive!”
******************************
Kid had faced many men in his short
life, some in smoky saloons, some in back alleys and more than a few on the
dirt in front of the Leader’s cabin at Devil’s Hole, but it always these public
displays in the center of town on the main street that bothered him the
most. It was like death had become some
sort of spectacle or entertainment for the masses. Who lived or died really didn’t matter for
those watching, it wasn’t real to them.
In a way it made a man feel used and of so little worth that people
would not stand up as one and demand such a contest be stopped. Life, it seemed, only had value when it was
your own.
Kid reached the center point of the
street and Landers moved directly in front of him. Both men had done this enough time that they
neither rushed nor dawdled, each conscious of what the outcome could be.
Clay Landers was good, very good. In fact Kid had heard enough stories to
wonder if indeed he might be faster, but the time for doubts was later over a
second bottle of whiskey. A man only
lived this long unless he stepped into the street confident he could walk back
out.
And as the time for thinking was done,
both men went for their guns.
******************************
Heyes hit the street with a yell just
as they both hit leather. He was too
busy taking down a bushwhacker directly behind his cousin to notice who got to
their gun first, but a whole lot of firing seemed to be going on he thought as
he dived into the dirt to find the next shooter.
There was a scream as another man fell
from the roof and Heyes let off another shot getting his second ambusher. He had the advantage; Hobo had told him where
they were hid. He just wished he had
been able to tell Kid in time.
Sparing a moment as he fell behind a
water trough he looked back to see his partner and the second gunman back to
back firing. Three other men lay in the street.
Confused, but not about to question a miracle he let out a yell to his
partner to join him.
Kid nudged the other man and under
Heyes’s covering fire they had almost reached him when suddenly the sixth
gunman appeared from a storefront and moved to fire at their backs.