"Name?" asked the desk clerk, scribbling in his register after taking care of his last customer and not looking up. It had been a busy night and he was getting tired. He just had to check in these three remaining men and he'd be off until four in the afternoon tomorrow.
"Er, um, John Brown," said a voice with a distinctive Texan twang.
The clerk looked up and studied the big, mustached man before him. "You don't sound too sure about that," quipped the wiry man behind the hotel front desk.
Wheat tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. "I'm sure," growled Wheat. He glowered threateningly until the clerk gulped and dropped his eyes. He wrote the name in the register then turned to snatch a key hanging from the board behind him.
"Room six, upstairs and to the right, Mr. Brown. Next!"
Wheat grabbed the key, lifted his saddlebags from where he'd left them on the floor, and walked over to wait by the bottom of the stairs.
Heyes stepped up to the counter and smiled pleasantly as the clerk poised his pen over the register.
"Name?"
"Phineas Fulton Fleeglefielder," intoned Heyes smoothly. Not missing a beat, he added, "and my partner, Throckmorton Smatherly. We'd like a double room, please." He smiled as the man began trying to phonetically sound out the names as he wrote them in the register. Reaching into his vest pocket, Heyes pulled out a five-dollar bill and laid it on the counter. "We'd like a view, too, if it's not too much trouble, and feel free to keep the change."
"No trouble at all, Mr., um, Flee-gel-fied-ler," said the clerk, the money quickly disappearing into his pocket. He glanced again at his register to try to get the name right and gave up. Flustered, he barely looked at Heyes and the Kid before tugging their room key off his board. He held it out to them, "Here you are: room eight up the stairs and at the end of the corridor. It has a lovely view of the street. My apologies, sirs, I've never been good with names," he said sheepishly without meeting their eyes.
"No problem," said the Kid, taking the key and tucking it in his shirt pocket. He and his partner turned and led the way up the stairs, Wheat following two steps behind them. As the threesome reached Room Six, Carlson inserted the key in the door and pushed it open. It was a tidy, cozy room with a nicely dressed bed and thick drapes blocking out the streetlights. He dropped his saddlebags on the stuffed side chair by the door and walked over to sink down onto the edge of the bed.
Heyes and the Kid walked in behind him and closed the door without a sound. The dark-haired outlaw leader glared at his tired man. "John Brown? What the hell, Wheat?"
Irritation leapt onto Carlson's face. "Dammit, Heyes, I couldn't think of nothin' else. First I thought of John and the Brown just seemed to go along with it."
"Did you ever think that's 'cause it's a famous name?" smirked the Kid.
"Hey, I didn't see you comin' up with nothin'! Besides, it's better than Fleeglefinder or whatever the heck Heyes said," snapped Wheat. He leaned back against the headboard, insolently staring at his two bosses. "What's with the goofy names anyway, Heyes? Ain't you afraid someone's going to remember that?"
Heyes sighed, pushed Wheat's saddlebags to the floor, and sat down on the stuffed chair. He was tired, too. They had ridden all day to get here and they were going to be up all night casing the bank. It felt good to sit on something besides the hard leather of a saddle.
He looked at Wheat for a moment and wondered to himself if he was wasting his time explaining anything to the older man. The Kid shook his head as though divining his partner's thoughts. Wheat had done nothing but devil Heyes since he took over the Hole, and he couldn't help but resent it.
Heyes wanted his first job with the gang to go smoothly, but maybe it would be for the best if someone, like the law, took Carlson off his hands. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said, "He couldn't remember it two seconds after I said it. Don't you get it? I give 'em something they have to think about so they're not thinking about me and what I look like."
The Kid chuckled, "Yeah, he was so embarrassed by butcherin' your name he couldn't wait for us to leave."
Heyes' eyes hardened as he watched Wheat digest what he'd just heard. "Now you gave him a name the whole world knows so he had to take a look at you. I reckon he won't forget what he saw when the law comes asking about strangers in town."
"Yeah, you practically begged him to write you a new wanted poster, Wheat," laughed Curry. "Come on, Heyes, let's go check our room out. I could use some shut-eye before we go prowlin' around that bank. Meet us out front at one a.m., Mr. Brown."
Wheat frowned as his two new leaders left his room. The door shut with a loud click and Carlson leaned back against the pillow. "I'm thinkin' up all sorts of names for you two and ain't none of 'em fit for polite company."