First Job
By JoAnn Baker
Chapter 1
New Friends
Hannibal Heyes ran as if the devil himself was chasing him. Truth be told, he wasn't sure that wasn't the case. The old farmer had been waiting for him with a shotgun when he snuck into the chicken coop and nearly scared him to death when he started blasting—nearly scared all the chickens to death too.
Hannibal and his friend Jed had been on their own for several months after running away from Valparaiso Home for Waywards in eastern Kansas. Back at the home food had been scarce and paltry, but at least there had been something to eat. Here in the open Kansas grasslands there were only two choices; earn your food through a hard day's labor or steal it. Unfortunately, there weren't many farmers willing to take on two scruffy looking runaways as farm hands. The two boys had approached this particular farmer earlier in the week and offered to clean out his chicken coops in return for a few eggs. The older man had promptly ordered the boys off his land, saying he'd have no thieving scoundrels on his property.
"Why's he think we're thieves?" Jed had asked. "We ain't never stolen nothing from him."
"Not yet," Hannibal had replied with a gleam in his eyes. "If that old man wants to think we're thieves, then why not give him what he wants?" It had been easy the first night, to sneak in, grab two chickens and be halfway across the field before any lights went on in the house. The boys had feasted on roast chicken and corn on the cob; liberated from the same farmer's fields.
This night had been different. The farmer had been hiding behind the chicken coop with a shotgun.
When Hannibal finally arrived back at the campsite where Jed waited, the younger boy rose to greet him and stared open mouthed at his empty hands. "Where are the chickens?" he demanded. "I got the fire goin' and the corn ready for roastin'."
Hannibal, still working to catch his breath, slumped to the ground. "I miscalculated," he replied in dismay.
Finally, noticing his friend's labored breathing and sweaty appearance, Jed's attitude changed from annoyance to alarm. "What happened? He didn't catch you did he?"
"Do I look caught?" Hannibal replied indignantly.
Jed grinned. "You look almost caught."
"More like almost shot," Hannibal replied.
Jed's eyes darkened. "If I had a proper shotgun I could go huntin' and we wouldn't have to steal our dinner."
"Yeah, well shotguns cost money and money comes from jobs, which, if you've noticed, nobody is willing to give to a couple of 'good for nothings' like us."
"We could steal it," Jed said flatly, staring into the fire.
"Steal a shotgun? Now that'd be a little trickier than stealing a chicken. Most folks keep their shotgun right inside their house, next to their bed."
"No," Jed scoffed, "not the gun, the money."
"You wanna steal the money to buy a shotgun? So we don't have to steal chickens?" Hannibal stared incredulously at his younger friend.
Jed gave an exasperated sigh. "Well you're the one with all the plans! What do you think we should do?"
"I think we should go into that town a few miles over yonder and convince one of them shopkeepers to give us a job. There must be one that needs sweeping up."
Jed's face registered surprise. "None of 'em did in the last town we tried. With all them men back from the war lookin' for work, we're about at the bottom of the pile. Besides, I thought we were goin' straight from here to Dodge City and start winnin' all that money off them cowhands. You said all those cattle drives from Texas end up there and all them drovers are real anxious to take their pay to the poker tables."
"Well, Dodge City's still a long way from here and I'm hungry. Plus we need a stake if we're going to get ourselves into any big poker games."
Jed looked down at his dirty calloused feet. Both boys had been going barefoot since they had outgrown their shoes. "I reckon new shoes would be a good idea," he said thoughtfully, as he shoved the ears of corn into the coals.
"I want a nice shiny pair of black boots," Hannibal said as his face broke into a grin.
"Yeah? I want a gun, then nobody will give us any trouble," Jed said with a more serious look.
Hannibal's grin faded. "You think that's all you need?"
"It worked for that farmer didn't it? He had a gun and we're having plain corn instead of roast chicken."
"That's not the only way, we just have to have a plan that's all. Tomorrow I'll walk to town and figure out what we're gonna do." He lay back on the ground and looked up at the stars. "Tomorrow I'll make a plan."
Jed nudged the corn with a stick and rolled the ears over in the coals. He sat silently and watched his friend stare into the sky.
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Just after sunrise, the two boys began walking toward town. The five-mile walk was easier in bare feet, but they stopped on the outskirts of town to jam their calloused feet into their small and worn shoes. "If you want to get hired, you have to look presentable," Hannibal told his friend.
"I don't like this plan," Jed mumbled.
The two boys took in the sights of the town as they looked for employment opportunities.
"Hey," Jed stopped and pointed. "Look over there." He gestured toward two men lying in the alley ahead of them. "Do you think they're dead?"
As they boys got closer, they could see that the men were wearing Union army uniforms. They could also smell the alcohol that seemed to hover in the air around the men.
"Drunk," Hannibal said with a combination of relief and repulsion. "Probably spent their last dollar at the saloon and didn't have any left for a room."
"And they was on the winnin' side," Jed mused, "not like them others we saw last month."
Hannibal stared at the drunken soldiers and shook his head. "Yeah, they don't look much like winners to me," he said sullenly and then continued toward the center of town.
Jed tried the livery stable and the post office, while Hannibal tried the mercantile and the telegraph office. Neither boy had any luck.
"How are we supposed to earn an honest livin' if nobody'll give us a job?" Jed asked finally, kicking at the dirt on the street.
Hannibal gave him a nudge and nodded toward an apple cart peddler. Jed sighed and nodded, he knew the routine and an apple was better than an empty belly.
Hannibal strode up to the peddler and began an animated conversation, the content of which Jed never bothered to notice. When the man's back was to him and Hannibal was at the peak of his performance, Jed casually walked up to the cart and slipped two apples into his shirt, then turned and slowly sauntered back around the corner. Hannibal joined him after a couple of minutes and the younger boy tossed him one of the apples.
"Never even noticed they were gone," Hannibal said with a grin.
"There's a butcher shop on the other side of town. I'm going to try there. They're hiring," Hannibal said just before biting into his apple.
"How'd you know that? We've never been to this town?"
"I asked the apple peddler," he said simply.
At Jed's confused look he continued. "Well I had to ask him something didn't I? I figured it might as well be something useful. I'll meet you back here." With a confident grin, he set off down the street.
Jed watched him go and then wandered back toward the main street. He walked back toward the mercantile and leaned against the post outside the entrance. Inside the store, he could see stacks of dry goods, barrels of grain, and shelves lined with canned goods and other items. He was watching the storekeeper wrap up an older gentleman's package when a young cowboy walked toward him. The cowboy, who was leading his horse by the reins, looked out of place in this farming community. Although his clothes were a worn and covered with trail dust, they were sharp looking, and well-tailored. He wore a fine beaver Stetson and walked with a slight swagger.
"Hey kid," the man said quietly, "I'll give you a nickel to hold my horse for a few minutes."
"Why don't you just tie him to the hitching post like everyone else?" Jed asked dryly.
The man chuckled softly. "Ok, a nickel now and fifty cents when I come out, if he's standing right here."
"You'd pay me fifty cents? Just for standin' here?"
The man took a deep breath and blew it out quickly, beginning to lose his patience. "Looky here, kid," he said pulling a nickel out of his pocket and showing it to Jed. "Here's the nickel. I want you and my horse to be right here when I return. You got that?"
"Yes, sir," Jed said quickly, pocketing the nickel and taking the reins.
"Good," the cowboy said. "Right here," he repeated, pointing to the ground.
Jed nodded and watched him walk into the store. He turned to the horse and stroked it on the head. He stared at the saddle. It was genuine leather with a design of stars worked into it. This was no ordinary workhorse saddle. Jed was pondering on how expensive a saddle like that must be when the cowboy ran out the door. The cowboy jumped onto his horse and Jed could see that he had a handful of greenbacks clutched in his fist. He tugged the reins so rapidly they burned Jed's hands.
"Ow. Hey where's my…"
The cowboy rode off. The storekeeper scrambled up and started shouting. Jed quickly jumped back and flattened his body against the building. He didn't want the shopkeeper to think he was an accomplice. The storekeeper ran into the street yelling after the thief as he raced out of town. People looked up at the commotion but no one noticed the young boy that was quietly walking in the opposite direction.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Hannibal asked as soon as he saw Jed approaching.
"I sort of just helped a guy rob a store," he said shakily.
"What?"
Jed explained while Hannibal listened and, at the end, the older boy shook his head nervously. "If anybody saw you with him, they might think you were in on it. We'd better get out of town."
"But we just got here," Jed began to complain, but then slumped his shoulders. "Ok," he agreed sullenly.
"All you got was a nickel?" Hannibal asked after a few minutes.
"He promised me fifty cents," Jed answered defensively.
The boys had only been walking for a few minutes when a hay wagon pulled by a large farm horse caught up with them.
"Hey, mister," Hannibal asked brightly as the driver slowed the wagon, "are you heading toward Dodge City?"
"Not all the way, I'm just going over to Bentley to take this load," the man said gruffly.
"We'll give you a nickel if you let us ride in the back, we won't be no trouble at all," Hannibal said smoothly.
The wagon driver scratched his chin for a moment. "Well," he said, "my back has been causing me some trouble lately, if you help me unload this wagon I'll call it square."
Both boys broke into huge grins and climbed into the wagon. "Thanks mister, you got a deal," Hannibal said quickly.
"You know, Jed, I've got a good feeling about Bentley. I think things might just turn around for us there."
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Hannibal and Jed walked slowly down the main street of Bentley, their feet complaining at every step.
"Unloading that wagon sure was a lot of work," Jed groused.
"I got us a ride to town, didn't I?" Hannibal retorted.
"So now what genius plan do you have?" the younger boy asked sarcastically.
"Hey, don't be mad. I'll think of something," Hannibal said.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Jed muttered, kicking at the dirt as he walked along. "Hey," he said suddenly, grabbing his friend by the arm and pulling him to a stop.
Hannibal glared at his younger friend in annoyance.
That's him," Jed whispered, though from this distance the three men he was gesturing toward were hardly likely to hear him.
"That's who?"
"The guy who robbed that mercantile back in the last town."
Hannibal stiffened and looked hard at the three men. "Which one?"
"The big one with the curly black hair, and the fancy Stetson like I told you 'bout."
The older boy studied the three men. The man Jed had pointed out was the largest; tall with broad shoulders and a stocky build. The second man had a slighter build, a thin mustache, and straight brown hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. The last man also had a mustache, but had shorter blond hair. All three men wore similar clothing, and had a dangerous 'air' to them that captivated the boys. While the boys stood watching, the black haired man glanced in their direction and recognized Jed. He leaned toward the others and said something. The three men laughed.
Before Hannibal could stop him, Jed had started across the street toward the three men. "Hey mister, you owe me fifty cents." Hannibal stared dumbfounded at his young friend's bravado.
The outlaw looked nonplussed at first, but then his face broke into a grin. "I reckon I do, kid, why don't you just ride along with us and I'll get it for you when we make camp."
Hannibal decided he'd better keep an eye on Jed and loped after him trying to look casual.
"I said you owe me fifty cents."
The black-haired outlaw gave the boy an appraising look. He looked from Jed to Hannibal then back to his friends. They seemed to be communicating, and one of them gave a slight nod. The black-haired man continued. "What's the matter? You and your friend hungry?"
Jed glanced back at Hannibal unsure at what his response should be.
" 'Course they're hungry. Since when are boys that age not hungry?" The young blond-haired cowboy piped in.
"Mister, I'll admit it, we are hungry, but why would you feed us?" Hannibal asked warily.
"I owe the kid here money, don't I? He did me a favor back in town. And, let's just say I admire his spunk walkin' up to me like he just done." He smiled, and adjusted his Stetson. "I'll introduce you to my friends. This here fella with the long brown hair is Dry Creek Jim, and my blond friend here is Bart. My name," he continued with a slightly mocking bow, "is William Conley. You could say I'm the leader of my associates here. And you two are…?"
"I'm Hannibal Heyes and my friend is Jed Curry. You can call me Heyes," he added quickly, thinking how using his surname sounded more adult.
"Alright Heyes, pleased to meet you." He shook hands with the boy. "And you as well, kid." Belatedly he added, "Curry."
The two others followed suit. The men strode off and the boys followed. Heyes was pleased at being accepted on his terms, but Jed was pondering the use of 'kid,' not certain if he was pleased with it.
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After eating, the boys and the men relaxed. "Kid, go get my saddlebags. I've got some smokes in them."
Jed looked at Bart. "Why d'you all keep callin' me 'kid?' I ain't but a year or so younger than Heyes."
"You know, Bart, our young friend has a point. "Kid's a name a man has gotta earn, so maybe we shouldn't call him Kid." Jim sat back as Jed rose to get the bags.
"What do you mean he has to earn being called Kid?" asked Heyes.
"All the best gunfighters are called 'Kid's'," said Conley. "You gotta be a good shot to be called that."
"I am a good shot," protested Jed. "My Pa said I was the best he'd seen with a rifle, and my Pa would know."
"You've gotta be fast with a six-shooter," Conley added, smiling at the boy's confidence.
Jed frowned slightly at this. "How do ya know I ain't?" he asked.
Bart slid his revolver from his holster and spun the chamber, then twirled the gun around his finger before laying it flat on the palm of his hand. "You just can't buy a gun like this one. Got it in the army, but it took me a long time to get it just right." He ran his fingers over the Colt six-shooter.
Jed looked on longingly.
"You ever shot a gun before?" Bart asked, his eyes narrowed.
"I told you I went huntin' with my pa."
"I mean a six-shooter like this one." He leveled the gun at the boy and waited.
"No sir, not a six-gun," Jed responded evenly, staring back at the outlaw, "but I'm a real fast learner."
Bart's eyes showed amusement and then his face broke into a smile. "Well, it's time you learned then. You come on with me here and I'll teach you," he said.
Jed jumped up eagerly and headed off with the outlaw. Heyes rose to follow.
"Not you, Heyes," said Conley, quietly.
"Heyes sat down again reluctantly. "I've never shot a pistol either. I want to learn."
"Don't worry, son, I'll show you. But we've got some business to discuss, first, man to man."
Heyes sat up straight, all attention now.
It was nearly dusk when Bart and Jed returned.
Conley and Heyes were still sitting together talking, and Jim had stretched out on the grass after retrieving a bottle of whiskey from his saddle bag.
"The kid's got potential," Bart said simply, and sat down next to Conley.
Conley eyed the other man curiously. The look on Bart's face said he thought the boy had a lot more than "potential."
Heyes jumped up and went to meet Jed. "Wait 'til I tell you what Conley has in mind," he said excitedly.
I gotta get one of those," Jed replied, ignoring his friend's words.
"One what?" Heyes asked, confused.
"A six-shooter," Jed replied, letting his gaze follow Bart as he set out to bed down for the night.
"How'd it feel?" Heyes asked, interested.
"Heavier than I thought," the boy admitted, "but good, like it was made for my hand," he added somewhat dreamily.
Heyes raised his eyebrows and looked curiously at his friend. "It's just a gun," he laughed.
"No, it's not," Jed said seriously. "Bart says it's got special balance, and grip, and—well all kinds of special stuff."
Heyes merely grunted.
"What did Conley want to talk to you about?" Jed asked finally.
"Well," Heyes' face lit up with a smile. "He says I'm perfect for an inside man."
"What's an inside man?" Jed asked.
"I'll get a job in a store in town, then check the place out and help plan the job," Heyes said proudly.
"You mean rob it." Jed stated bluntly.
"Well, yeah, maybe," Heyes said with a shrug. "Maybe not, I dunno. I'll have a job at least and then we can figure out what to do."
"Maybe they'll have guns there. You can get me one. Bart's gonna let me shoot his gun again soon. He says next time we'll do some real target practice—with cans and stuff," Jed said with a nod of his head.
Both boys' gaze went back to the outlaws who were settling in for the night. These men, with their fancy hats and confident manner, held a lot more interest for the two boys than the farmers and ex-soldiers that they had seen too many of in the last few months.