Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.
Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.
A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.
Mutual Friends
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"Jed," chuckled Clem as she pulled her old green dressing gown closer across her chest, "you're falling asleep."
"Huh? 'm not," Bleary blue eyes blinked. Kid was determined to remain awake. The twenty-one year old pulled his long legs in close to the pink tufted sofa. The pile of blankets beside him wobbled precariously as he struggled to sit up straight. "I heard every argument you and Heyes made about that decent man book."
"Descent of Man," corrected the dark haired woman. "And we weren't arguing about that book, we were merely discussing the merits of Blackwell's critique…"
Heyes brought the coffee pot to the dining table and topped off both Clem's cup and his own. The outlaw mastermind smirked as Kid's eyes glazed over while Clem continued talking.
"Remember Kid, I read the article in Popular Science Monthly," encouraged Heyes, "at the hotel in Cheyenne last week."
The slender man settled the coffee pot back on the big black cast iron stove. Returning to rejoin Clem at the dining table, Heyes loosened the black string tie from beneath the crisply starched white collar of his dress shirt. His gray waist coat was already unbuttoned and the matching coat hung from the back of his chair.
"I was referring to the article in The Women's Journal," sniffed Clem.
"Same article," grinned Heyes, "just a different magazine, different readers."
The hazel eyed woman reached out her tiny hands to wrap her fingers around the steaming cup. Clem lifted the cup and held it in front of her chin, inhaling the aroma. She took a sip, and closed her eyes, savoring the warmth.
"Yeah Heyes I remember that magazine," yawned Kid. He stretched both arms overhead. Dust streaks across the once white shirt he wore showed signs of his busy day. "That lady author was a bit long winded, but she got it right at the end."
"Huh?" asked Clem.
The petite brunette thumped down her cup and turned back to stare at Kid. The tired young man rubbed his eyes.
"Men and women have to cooperate, work together," answered Kid with another huge yawn. He leaned forward on the sofa, resting his elbows on the knees of his jeans. Kid shook his head, moving his hand upwards. He rubbed his fingers through his curly hair as if to clear his sleep fogged mind. "Didn't think much of what those fellas Darwin and Spencer…"
Kid stopped speaking as another involuntary yawn overtook him.
"Jed," suggested Clem with soft throaty laugh. "Admit it, you're exhausted. Why don't you go to bed?"
Kid glanced longingly towards the open doorway. Clem's big brass bed beckoned. Her cozy home only had two rooms, the main kitchen living area and her bedroom. The pantry was really just an overgrown closet that led to the back door. Even with bedrolls and extra blankets, the hard wooden floor would be uncomfortably cold for Kid and Heyes to sleep on since the sudden cold snap.
"Are you sure?" asked Kid.
"Yes," insisted Clem. "You and Heyes sleep in my room tonight. I'll curl up on the sofa."
"Yeah Kid," teased Heyes, "you need your rest after all that banner hanging you did today."
"Hanging banners wouldn't be so hard on the back, if a body only had to do it once," grumbled Kid as stood up. He stretched once more before moving slowly away from the sofa. "It was the climbing up ladders, hanging banners, climbing down, climbing back up, taking down banners, climbing back down…"
Kid stumbled through the doorway still muttering about the difficulties involved with hanging banners. The younger outlaw pushed the door shut behind him. The sound of a boot thumped against the floor, followed by another.
"Before he gets too comfortable, do you need anything for in the morning?" asked Heyes. "In case you wake up first."
Clem glanced at the neatly folded clothing in the straight backed chair by the door. For Saturday morning chores, she wouldn't be wearing hoops tomorrow. Her serviceable blue housedress covered the unmentionables. Blankets and a pillow were already on the sofa. Clem's mouth dropped open.
"Ah! My hairbrush," replied Clem.
The twenty-five year old man pushed back his chair and hurried to the bedroom door. Heyes entered her room. Kid's shirt was already draped over the nearest bedpost. The muscular fast draw looked up in surprise as he hung his gun belt over the shirt.
"Heyes!" protested Kid. "I'm gettin' undressed here."
"It's a little late for modesty Kid," reminded Heyes with a soft chuckle, "you had a bath in the kitchen just a few days ago."
"There were bubbles!"
"I just need to get Clem's brush," murmured Heyes.
Long fingers deftly retrieved the brush from Clem's dresser top. Heyes backed out of her bedroom pulling the door shut once more. Returning to the table, strategist laid the brush beside Clem's hand. Their fingertips touched as Clem reached for the brush. Both hands drew back at the unexpected connection. Clem reached for her hairbrush again as Heyes moved to the other side of the table.
"Thank you Heyes," said Clem. Her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink. Sounding slightly flustered, she added, "You hardly touched your dessert."
"Oh, uh, yeah," responded Heyes, for once at a momentary loss for words.
The dark haired man sat down again and forked another bite of his pumpkin pie. He chewed determinedly. How could they go from talking easily about The Sexes Throughout Nature one minute and now be feeling awkward over a hairbrush? Heyes swallowed and spoke again.
"Glad I missed the decorating," smirked Heyes. "Miss Emerson and Miss Thompson surely did put Kid through a workout. How many times did he have to reposition all of those banners?"
"Hmm. There were twelve banners," Clem pursed her lips a little as she thought. "Millicent and Eloise took advantage of Jed's offer to help. They had him up and down those ladders, arranging and rearranging the decorations at least three or maybe four times for each banner."
"No wonder Kid's tired," chuckled Heyes.
"Now what did you do today?" asked Clem in a nonchalant tone. "You can tell me. Unless you were casing the Denver mint or the First National Bank..."
"Clem," Heyes protested, widening his dark brown eyes in an attempt to look innocent. "You know I'd never…"
The snort that erupted from Clem's mouth was definitely not ladylike.
"Alright, I would, but not with you living so close by," agreed Heyes with a shrug. He leaned forward with a conspiratorial wink. "I don't suppose you feel like moving to New Mexico or Arizona any time soon?"
"No," huffed Clem.
Clem raised her eyes to the ceiling. Heyes was reminded of the school play, years ago, in Valparaiso. Fourteen year old Clem had a flair for the dramatic then, and now.
"I'll just have to stay and keep Denver safe from the Devil's Hole Gang," replied Clem with what seemed to be a long suffering sigh.
"The good folks of Denver don't know how lucky they are," smiled Heyes.
Clem's laughter joined in with his. Heyes set his fork down on the now empty plate. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his crisp white shirt and rolled up his sleeves. The slender man stood up from the table and began to gather the dirty dishes. Clem started to stand as well, but Heyes shook his head.
"I'll get the dishes," offered Heyes. "You just relax and brush your hair."
Clem leaned back against the chair. Her lips turned up in a small smile as she began to brush her long dark tresses. Heyes carried the dishes towards the sink and added hot water from the kettle on the stovetop. He glanced over his shoulder at Clem. For a second, he allowed himself to fantasize. What would it be like to have a normal life? Dishes to wash. Books to read. A wife, maybe a baby sleeping in the next room.
"You boys are welcome to stay for the church social tomorrow night," reminded Clem.
Heyes shook his head. The fantasy gone in an instant.
"And then stay for church on Sunday, where we meet all your neighbors? And hope they don't know us?" asked Heyes. He pushed his long, straight hair back behind one ear, revealing his wide sideburns. "You know we can't stay Clem."
Clem's rosy lips pouted in disappointment. She placed her hairbrush back on the table.
"You two boys need to get out of the outlaw business," stated Clem without any attempt at theatrics.
"But we're so good at being bad," smirked Heyes.
"Heyes! That's not funny!"
"Don't you think I know that?" asked the genius in a soft voice.
A soft sigh from Clem was followed by another question.
"Why don't you two get honest jobs?" asked Clem.
There were so many different ways to answer. The economic slump that started in 1869 had gotten worse with the failure of the Jay Cooke Bank in New York two years ago. Other bank failures followed, rippling westward across the country. The Northern Pacific railway was in bankruptcy. Honest jobs were hard to find. And the ability to crack a safe wasn't exactly in demand.
"An honest job would interfere with my poker playing and whisky drinking," replied Heyes with a dimpled grin that belied the seriousness in his dark eyes. At Clem's indignant huff, he added, "You'll have to ask Kid for his reasons."
"I will," declared Clem. "You know Jed tells me everything."
"Everything?" challenged Heyes. His cousin could be stubbornly reticent on private matters. Heyes still hadn't heard the truth of what had happened in Texas while they were apart. "Are you sure?"
Heyes wiped his hands on the dishtowel and sauntered towards the bedroom door. He twisted the knob, allowing lamplight from the little round table by the sofa to spill inside. The Kid shaped lump beneath the double wedding ring quilt didn't stir. Heyes glanced back at Clem.
"Haven't you ever gotten yourself in a situation where you can't see anyway out?" asked Heyes.
The suddenly stricken look on her face told Heyes the answer to his question, but then vanished, replaced by a sweet smile. Clem batted her dark eyelashes, a danger sign in Heyes' opinion.
"Whatever are you talking about?"
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