Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta reader and story consultants, you know who you are, without whom this story would never have been written. This was written several years ago, chapter one was the first piece of creative writing I ever did since High School decades ago in response to a story prompt challenge. It is posted on another site and I am in the process of transferring to this site .

Terms

By Nell McKeon

Part One – Decision

Early August 1883

Kid Curry slumped over his whisky in yet another shabby saloon, in yet another small town, in the middle of nowhere much.

A saloon gal wandered over to try her luck at getting a little business on a dreary midweek afternoon. One look at the hostility born of utter misery in those blue eyes, scowling out from under a rain-splattered brown brim changed her mind. This was a man who didn't want to talk. Not yet anyhow. Maybe not for a long time.

Kid tapped his glass to order a refill of the whiskey so far removed from being the 'good stuff' he reckoned they oughta pay him to drink it. He didn't care. He just wanted to get drunk and do it quick. He wanted to forget. Forget about what had happened. Forget about Heyes. Forget about their years together. Forget he'd ever had a partner. Forget he was alone. Alone forever. Heyes was the past. Gone. Done with.

A WEEK EARLIER...

Two riders, slumped in their saddles, rode slowly down the street in the darkening gloom heading for the sheriff's office. The blond's eyes searched the familiar streets of Porterville for the unfamiliar and finding nothing returned to his brown-haired partner who rode slightly ahead of him. They reached their destination, noted the light from the window and reined in the horses. Without a word, the blond dismounted and came around to stand next to his companion's bay in a silent offer of assistance that went unheeded.

"Howdy Lom."

The sheriff jerked straight in his office chair and looked quickly around. "Heyes, didn't hear you come in. Glad you made it. I wasn't sure you'd come." He lowered his voice a bit. "I heard about the trouble over in Impasse Mountain. Where's the Kid?" Lom asked as he rose from his chair extending his right hand towards his ex-outlaw friend while throwing a surreptitious glance sideways.

Heyes walked slowly favoring his left side and shook Lom's hand. Lom noted the grip did not have Heyes' characteristic firmness as he sat back in his chair. Heyes moved over to the stove, shook the coffee pot, found the mugs and filled two; a slight grin formed as he caught Lom's glance at the side door.

"He'll be here in a minute Lom, he's taking care of the horses."

The front door opened and Kid quietly entered the sheriff's office. He gave a shake of his head as his tired blue eyes found Heyes who was holding a steaming mug up questioningly.

Heyes and Lom sat sipping coffee and caught up with each other's news. Kid, who hadn't said a readily identifiable word as of yet, stayed standing while he nodded and uh huhed at the appropriate intervals. His weary eyes traveled from the empty cells to the bulletin board where the wanted posters hung, minus two notable outlaws.

Lom and Heyes exchanged a knowing look as they each noticed the focus of Kid's attention.

"I guess we should get down to business," Lom stated and then continued, "The governor's not pleased, however, you boys are still in consideration for the amnesty. Impasse didn't help but the investigation justified your actions, Kid, so you can quit looking. There are no new warrants, murder or otherwise, out on you. The publicity wasn't good but a shootout involving Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes is just too newsworthy for the papers to ignore."

Kid heaved a relieved sigh as Heyes shot him a sympathetic sad smile. "Lom," Heyes started, "Kid didn't have a choice; there were six of them. Two-Gun George has been after him for years. He and his gang didn't want the reward, wouldn't listen to reason, didn't even give us time to leave, Two-Gun just wanted the title. Well, it's not Kid's fault Two-Gun and Bill Stevers are not the fastest guns in the west, they're just the deadest two guns in the west. The other four guys are only wounded. The governor should give us a medal for getting them off the streets. That was a bloody gang Lom, you know that."

"Heyes, I know, I know," Lom interrupted. "The governor even knows but he can't come out and give amnesty to you two when Kid just shot and killed two men, no matter if they deserved it or not. I'm just glad it's not you boys that are stretched out on the boardwalk."

Lom's tanned face frowned in concern. "Did you have much trouble losing the posse out of Impasse? The papers stated you might have been shot, Heyes. And, looking at you now, it seems as if they were right."

"Just a little flesh wound to my side. I'll be fine" Heyes replied.

Kid whirled around from the bulletin board and practically shouted, "You're not fine Heyes. You're shot! You were shot watching my back. It was not just a little flesh wound."

Heyes rose, albeit somewhat stiffly from the chair and attempted to calm his partner. "I'll be fine, just need a little time to heal up. I've had a lot worse wounds and so have you."

Recognizing the futility and not having the will or the energy to engage Kid once again in the same argument they had times too numerous to count, Heyes changed the direction of the conversation. "Now what about those jobs you telegraphed us about Lom? Are they still open?"

Lom studied the ex-outlaws before him as he answered "Yes, but you'll have to split up since there isn't enough time to do both together. Now the first one's fairly easy but will take a little over two weeks to escort a valuable shipment on the train to Texas and back again, that'll be you I guess Heyes. Kid, a rancher friend needs short-term help with some horses he's moving, should only take a week or so. You'll both have to leave by tomorrow afternoon."

Heyes settled back in his chair and Kid finally sat down as the three men worked out the details.

Heyes' brown eyes slowly slid open, heavy with sleep. It was still dark. His eyes adjusted to the room only illuminated with the light of the full moon; he discovered the reason for awakening. Kid, fully dressed, was silently closing the door as he slipped from the hotel room.

Heyes sat up quickly, ignoring the twinge in his side and looked around the room. He relaxed somewhat when he spotted Curry's saddlebags and rifle, still in the corner where he had dropped them earlier.

"Kid, where are you going at this hour? You better not be planning anything stupid and you will tell me what's going on in that thick head of yours. Just wait. We can work it out when these jobs are over." With those thoughts running through his mind Heyes sank back down to doze until the Kid came back.

PRESENT

Kid dragged his eyes up from the battered table and the glass in his hand. Swirling the whiskey, no, not even regular whiskey, he wasn't even sure if it qualified as rotgut he thought, "Wasn't drunk enough yet, nope, not numb, can't stop thinking. Wasn't supposed to think, that's Heyes job. Dammit, no Heyes ever again just no thinking at all, ever again."

Staring hard beyond the batwing doors, watching the drizzle fall, he wondered how long he would have to wait. He lifted the glass, downed the contents in one swallow, grimaced and turned towards the bar. A steady hand tapped the glass once more but as blue eyes connected with the inviting hazel eyes of the saloon girl, Kid turned the glass over and rose from his seat. He consciously softened his gaze, dampening down the anger and misery that was threatening to overwhelm him. He had made his decision; he had the time.

This wasn't the first time he drowned his misery in alcohol or sought solace in the arms of a woman he didn't love and who didn't love him. It would be the last time though. Probably the last physical expression of at least pretend affection he would experience. Another thing he would have to forget forever, never think of again – the secret desire of being a husband with a wife, children, sharing his life along with Heyes as one big family.

The blue of his eyes deepened and took on a look of longing and sadness. Had the saloon girl been looking, her heart would have gone out to a man in emotional need. As it was, satisfying the physical need would suffice. Kid placed his money on the side table as the girl placed her hands on his shoulders, caressing her way around his chest appreciatively as she started to unbutton the blue shirt.

Settled back down in the drab saloon with yet another undrinkable whiskey in his hand Curry steeled himself. The tall dark-haired man he had been waiting for pushed his way through the wet saloon doors.

"Thanks for coming Lom. Is it all arranged? Did he agree to my terms, Lom?" Kid asked in greeting.

Lom shook his head at the bartender's silent question, took a seat, and faced Curry. With a heavy heart, Lom took two envelopes from his inside jacket pocket, laid them carefully on the table for Curry's inspection in lieu of a reply.

Curry picked up the envelope labeled Hannibal Heyes, withdrew the document within and carefully read it completely through. He opened the second envelope and counted the money: $10,000 dollars, it was all there.

Curry raised his anguished blue eyes to Lom's concerned brown ones and asked "And the rest?" Lom nodded affirmatively.

"I'm ready to go then; let's get it over with." The two men stood and walked resolutely out into the gray mist.

The two riders rode through a dense wood when the Kid suddenly reigned to a stop, dismounted and sprinted further into the trees.

Lom halted, waited a few minutes then set off on foot after his friend. "I'm not running Lom," Kid managed to say before he braced himself against a large oak and retched.

Lom stood silently by, worry creasing his brow.

Kid straightened, wiped his mouth with his left sleeve and continued. "I've always known I would die young, you know, dead in a dusty street or smoky saloon finally meeting up with the guy that is faster than me or going down in a hail of bullets ever since I joined the gang. Never thought I would see prison. Even when I was in jail, I always trusted Heyes to come up with a plan. He always did. Heyes and me, we talked about what we would do if it ever looked like we were actually going to prison.

Never agreed though. Heyes sees possibilities in every situation and for him there may have been, early release, cushy job in the warden's office, but not for me. For me it's going to be hard time. I always thought I wouldn't get that far, I would run, let them shoot me trying to escape. For me, it would be better that way."

Lom reached out and laid a hand on Kid's shoulder lending support, letting him talk.

"But I know that's not going to happen. The governor is going to get to say the gunslinger is paying for his crimes, satisfy the banks and railroads. I'm going to walk through the door at the Wyoming Territorial Prison and serve my time. Die there."

"I'm scared Lom. I don't know how I am going to do it but I will. Heyes deserves those amnesty papers in your pocket. Joshua Smith needs that $10,000 dollar bounty money for a stake. Heyes will show the world what he can do given half a chance. He can be the man our folks would have been proud of. People aren't afraid of him, they'll give him a second chance, respect him. I want him to have that chance. He won't with me around, he might not live to see amnesty if the governor ever gets around to giving it to us."

Outlaw and lawman turned in unison and walked together back to the horses with Lom urgently stating, "Kid, it's not too late to change your mind. I can return the envelopes to Cheyenne, no one the wiser. The amnesty may take a little longer but Heyes is not going to want the amnesty without you, you know that, and he's liable to flatten me when he finds out I knew about, never mind helped, with this. Besides…"

Kid vehemently interrupted, "No! I need to do this for him. It has to be done now when Heyes is too far away to do anything about it. We're following the Kid Curry plan."

Standing alongside his gelding Kid untied the thong from his right thigh, unbuckled his gun belt and carefully rolled the leather around the holster and Colt 45. Weighed it in his hand, fingers caressing the butt, and with a heavy sigh opened the saddlebag and placed the rolled-up belt within.

Kid slid his hat from his blond curls and wrapped the strings around his saddle horn. Still facing his horse, stroking the dark chestnut's neck gently and with a voice low and subdued he continued, "If Heyes doesn't want the gun you can have it Lom. It's a good gun. Either one of you could probably get good money for it, maybe even from a collector. Me being an infamous gunslinger and all." He turned and offered a small half-hearted smile.

"Kid…," Lom started but Kid didn't let him continue, didn't want to be dissuaded from his chosen course. He couldn't, no wouldn't, think about the past. Wouldn't think about the future either.

"There's a letter for Heyes in the saddlebag, things that need saying. I don't expect him to understand right away but after he has time to think, he will see what I've done is for the best, is the right thing to do. Be there for him Lom, help him see the truth as it is and not what we want it to be. I will never be completely free from the past. I don't have a future with or without amnesty. I will always be Kid Curry, Fastest Gun in the West until I'm no more and I'm not taking him down with me."

Curry abruptly stopped, cocked his head and listened. They heard the sounds of hoof beats in the distance. Curry's hand dropped quickly to his right thigh and found air. Lom stepped around the Kid and peered out from between the trees. Five men, one leading a saddled horse, tin stars catching the first rays of a setting sun piercing the late afternoon gray sky, rode to the agreed upon meeting place.

The marshals were here.