Two men lay leaning their weary backs against their saddles with their feet toward a crackling campfire in the gathering darkness. They munched on the last bites of a charred jack rabbit Kid Curry had shot.
"Straight. Us. Who would have believed it?" Asked Hannibal Heyes rhetorically.
"And poor. Dirt poor." Added the Kid, spitting a bit of gristle into the fire, where it sizzled.
"Now that," replied his partner, putting down his rabbit bones, picked clean while he was still hungry. "I believe. I don't like it, but I believe it."
"Well, if you don't like it, what are you gonna do about it?" Asked Curry.
"Don't you mean we? What are we gonna do about it?" Heyes glared at his partner, the famous gunman.
"If I do anything about it, like I'm used to doing, they'll put us away. Or hang us," remarked the Kid glumly.
"You think I'm any more used to legit work than you are?" Asked Heyes. He used an old cactus spine to get a bit of meat out from between his teeth.
"Well, you can write and figure better than me, anyhow," said Curry. He spat into the fire again.
"Would you stop that?" Griped Heyes, pulling his coat closer around him. "It's getting really cold. Fire's small enough without all that water."
"If you think the fire's too small, go find some wood to put on it," snapped the blond outlaw.
"It's a high desert," Heyes barked back. "There ain't much wood. And who made you the boss, anyhow? I thought I was the leader."
The Kid corrected his second cousin curtly, "You led the gang. Ain't no more gang."
"Or not for us, anyhow," said the former gang leader with a longing look north toward distant Wyoming, where the Devil's Hole boys continued their depredations without their famed leaders.
The two dissatisfied men stared into the dying fire in silence as the sky turned from deep blue to purple, with a fiery edge in the west. A chill wind was blowing.
"Gang or no gang, we need a plan, or we'll starve. Or get caught." Muttered Heyes. He got to his feet and searched around the edge of the fire light for something that would burn.
"Or both," opined Curry morosely.
"No, in prison, they feed you." Said Heyes, tossing a bit of dead cactus into the fire. He gathered up more dead grass and scrub wood as his eyes adjusted to the dark outside the ring of light.
"I don't like that plan," said the Kid loudly, so his partner could hear as he walked around slowly, gathered fuel. Curry opened his bed roll.
"Me, neither," said Heyes. He walked back to the fire and put his pile of fuel in reach for the cold watches of the night.
"All I know is, we need a plan," stated Curry. "A new one, while we go for amnesty. Now that we've got out of Wyoming Territory."
"Yeah," said Heyes, opening his own bed roll. "Let me sleep on it."
"And I can't think of a plan, too?" Whined the Kid.
"Plan all you like," said the elder partner amiably. "But do it quietly. We rode all day today and yesterday and the day before that. And before that, it was a long train ride. I'm dog tired."
"I was there for all that, you may recall. I'm beat, too. G'night, Heyes."
"G'night, Kid."
Dawn woke the partners early. There was precious little for breakfast. Mid-morning found the two amnesty seeking outlaws riding slowly across the vast, open country. It was chilly, and the dry wind parched their skin. The Kid shivered in his shearling coat.
An hour later, Heyes took a sip from his canteen – far less water than he wanted or needed, but there was almost nothing left. Curry reached for his own canteen and took a bare mouthful of water. The partners said nothing, but exchanged worried looks.
They struck across the shifting sand and loose gravel of the high desert. Finally, they hit a dirt road. They turned their horses onto it. They saw a sign board on a stone pointing to some town, but the grey board was so worn by wind and weather that they couldn't read the name.
"You sure it's safe to get that close to a town?" Asked the Kid in a hoarse voice.
"I ain't sure of much, right now," said Heyes, coughing to clear his dry throat. "But if we want water and work, we got to get near people."
"If we got to be in town, I'd rather play poker." The famed gunman did not sound enthusiastic.
"Me, too, but we ain't got enough cash for a penny ante game." Heyes patted his hip pockets and frowned. "Or I don't. Do you?"
The Kid shook his head. "No, Heyes. I got about a dollar and a half, maybe. Work, it is." Curry was resigned. "And hope we don't get spotted."
Heyes gave him a wink. "And when we get a stake, then we play poker. That's the plan." The pair shared a grin and turned their horses toward the nameless town.
Predictably, their horses were soon tied outside saloon drinking from the water trough while their riders downed beers inside. "Say, barkeep," called The Kid, "you hear tell of any work around here for a couple of men?"
"What kind of work?" Asked the mustachioed bartender as he wiped a glass.
"Oh, we can do most anything that pays," replied Heyes.
Curry added, "We deal cards real good. You need dealers here?"
"Nah, we got dealers," said the men behind the bar. "And we're the only saloon in town. Say, Sam Taylor, a farmer outside town, said he could use some help."
"Help doing what?" Asked the Kid suspiciously.
His partner elbowed him and whispered, "Beggars can't be choosers."
The barkeep scratched his bald head. "I don't rightly know, but can't be too heavy, on a small farm this late in the year. Crops are all in, long since."
"He's a decent guy, is he?" Asked the Kid. "He'll pay what he says?"
"Oh yeah, he won't stiff you," said the barkeep.
"Where's his farm?" Asked Heyes.
"About two miles north of here."
When they had finished their beers, the two former outlaws rode north. They hoped to finish the day with more in their pockets then when they started and maybe with food in their bellies.
As the pair rode up to a small adobe farm house, they were greeted by a bandy-legged little man who had a rifle trained on them.
Heyes and Curry put their hands up. "Now, Mr. Taylor, we don't mean no harm," said the Kid. "We just heard you had work for a couple of men. That true?"
The old man nodded and slowly lowered his rifle. He looked cautiously at the strangers and spoke in sharp southwest accent. "Well, that is true. You look decently strong. Fifty cents an hour for each man."
"Let's see," said the Kid, swinging down from the saddle. "What's the work?"
"Right over here," said Taylor, as the two newly reformed outlaws followed him over a hill. He pointed at a scattering of big rocks and small boulders. Someone had started building a retaining wall to hold the slope of sandy soil between the house and the barn down the hill. "My last workers left me with the job hardly started. Too old and weak to keep it up. It's just a little hold-back wall to keep this hill from causing trouble for the barn and the lower fields. You might not think it, but we get bad floods and mudslides."
Heyes and Curry exchanged uneasy looks. The rocks looked numerous and heavy. Very heavy.
"So, you guys think you can finish that wall for me?" Asked Taylor, who could see the doubt growing in his potential employees.
"Well . . ." Heyes raised one eyebrow skeptically and looked questioningly at his partner. "What do think, Mr. Jones?"
"I'm not sure if we're up for it at that rate, Mr. Smith." The Kid was far from enthusiastic.
"Tell you what, boys." Said Taylor. "I'll throw in a real good taco dinner today and each day till you get done, with beer for you and feed for your horses."
"Well . . ." Heyes, sensing more potential for benefits here, was still not won over. His partner played along, shifting from one foot to the other like he was tempted to walk away. Which he was.
Taylor looked speculatively back and forth between the two men. "Hm. Tell you what, boys. If you stick around long enough to finish the job, I'll give you a five-buck bonus."
Heyes studied his mark and shook his head. "No deal. Ten. Each."
"Ten bucks?!" Taylor scratched his chin. "Alright, alright, if you give me a buck back for the horse feed. Each."
Sensing he had pushed Taylor as far as he would go, Heyes glanced at his partner, then he extended his hand to their new boss.
The pair of new workers asked a few questions of their boss about what he wanted. They led their hungry horses into the barn to eat. Then the new workmen rolled up their sleeves and got to work hauling stones and mortaring them into place. Taylor waved to the men he had hired and went to work in his barn, out of the gritty wind.
For a while the pair worked in silence. The Kid glared at his partner as he laboriously shuttled back and forth between the rock pile and the growing wall. Some rocks were so large it required both men to roll them along into place.
Finally, the sweating pair took a break. Heyes dipped a tin cup into the bucket of water Mr. Taylor had provided them and the Kid did the same. Curry growled, "What do you mean signing us up for this? We're hardly started and my back is about to break!"
Heyes shrugged. "You agreed along with me. Our horses need the feed and water. We do, too. And a bed under a roof will do us good. I figure we can finish tomorrow. With that bonus, then we'll have a stake we can build on at the tables."
"If we live to do it," said the famous gunman darkly.
"Pace yourself," said Heyes. "That's what I'm doing."
"I see you dogging it, Mr. Smith, doing more with the mortar than with the stones," muttered the Kid. Then, as their boss emerged from the barn to look at their work, they went back to their labors.
"You got enough water, both for mortar and for drinking?" Asked Taylor, who had brought a bucket from the spring house down the hill.
"Could use some more, for both," panted Heyes, dropping another stone into place. "Thanks."
Soon Taylor rang the triangle for dinner time. The retired outlaws were more than ready for it. They gratefully sat down on the benches alongside Mr. Taylor's table. The beers, cooled in the spring house, were wonderful, and the tacos were hot, delicious and plentiful. Taylor watched the strangers with care, but he saw nothing to worry him. Encouraged by their rest and their lunch, the boys returned to work that afternoon with a better will.
It was a long afternoon, but the thought of a good dinner and sleeping in beds was effective motivation. As the sun got near setting, Taylor came out of the house. "Here you go, Mr. Jones, Mr. Smith, eight hours work, four bucks each. See you in the morning."
The Kid straightened up from placing a stone. He shared a questioning look with his partner. "Yeah, see you," said Heyes. "Thanks for the dinner and the pay."
The weary workers groaned as they climbed into their saddles. But their horses were almost frisky on the way back to town, thanks to the good drink and feed they had enjoyed that day.
Back at the saloon, the weary workers shoveled down hot stew.
"Say, mister, you want to buy a girl a drink?" A buxom working girl asked the Kid.
"Uh, what?" The gunman sat up suddenly, realizing he had almost fallen asleep over the last of his dinner.
The girl laughed and went to find a livelier patron. Heyes yawned and slapped his partner on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd see you too tired to enjoy a pretty gal. Guess we better go on up and make use of that room we signed for."
As the two former outlaws climbed into their shared hotel bed, Heyes was yawning again. "Gee, between dinner, the livery stable, and the room, that pay is looking like not that much. You really want to stick around to finish that wall tomorrow?"
Curry yawned. He thumped the mattress, which was surprisingly springy and comfortable. "Yeah, I guess. I'm tired, but this ain't a bad bed. Dinner was good. It's got to be a long ride to the next work, and that might be worse. With that bonus, we'll have enough to live on for a little while, poker or no poker. G'night, Heyes."
"G'night, Kid."
A rooster in the alley woke the partners at dawn with its loud crow. Groans came from under the covers. The Kid cursed freely. "I've set up harder than that mortar ever will," he moaned.
"Come on, partner, get on up and face the day," said Heyes cheerfully. Then the darker outlaw tried to get up himself. He uttered a string of his own curses. "Geeze, I don't know if can even stand, forget hauling stones."
"Now you see what I mean," griped Curry as he finally managed to sit up. "Oh! My back feels like it's tied in knots."
"Mine, too," agreed Heyes, reluctantly struggling to his feet. "We might have to ride out of here and away from that farm and that wall to save our lives. Never mind the damn bonus."
But hot biscuits, fried eggs, and ham did wonders for the aching pair of men. As they mounted up and headed out of town, they weren't sure of their plans.
"So, back to the farm, or off someplace else?" Asked Heyes, using his right thumb to point to the two options in turn.
"I don't know," said the Kid. "I'd feel pretty ashamed if I couldn't finish one little wall. I'm a young man of 27. Now you, you might not be able to keep up, an old man of 30."
"Why you!" Heyes took an ineffectual swing at his cousin, who spurred his horse down the road with Heyes on his heels. The pair laughed and loped toward the farm.
As the Kid bent to pick up the first rock, he moaned. "Gosh, they're heavier today. And the wind is colder."
"Or you're not up to this, boy," joked Heyes as he bent your start work. "Come on, your muscles will warm up soon. Ugh - don't know if mine will."
Since they had started earlier on this second day, the workers felt like dinner time would never come.
But in time, it did. "Mr. Taylor, you sure make good tacos," said Heyes through a mouthful of spicy beef.
"Thank you, Mr. Smith. More beer?" Said the farmer.
"Don't mind if I do," said the man going by the name of Smith, with a grin.
"I'll join you," said Jones. They clinked mugs.
"Ah, if you think I can cook, you should have tasted my wife's tacos. Now there was a cook!" Taylor smiled at the memory.
"What was her name?" asked the Kid.
"Maria. Oh, she was a lovely girl when we met." Taylor and the two wall builders exchanged stories for a while. It was good to laugh together.
But then the elderly farmer groaned softly as he got to his feet. "There now, you had best get back to it, or you'll be awfully tired by the time you finish. Sorry to delay you. I get lonesome out here all by myself. It's good to talk to some nice guys." He gathered up the dishes and headed for the kitchen.
"Here, let me get that, Mr. Taylor," said the Kid.
Heyes smiled to hear his partner volunteer for work, tired as he was. The older outlaw added, "Yeah, we can haul in the water and do the dishes. You've been busy all day, too and then you cooked for us. We've enjoyed your stories."
"Thank you, boys. This old man is grateful for your strong backs and good hearts."
The afternoon was long and slow, but the smile their employer had given them kept Heyes and the Kid doggedly at their hard job. The stones got smaller as the wall rose, but the workers grew wearier by the hour.
As the sun got low in the sky and the wind grew icy, Heyes stood up from lifting another stone, one hand on his back. "Ugh. Don't know if I can make it, partner. I don't want to have to be back here in the morning. But I don't want to disappoint Mr. Taylor."
Curry moaned as he stood, but he forced a smile onto his face. "We'll get there tonight. You'll make it, Heyes, old man. You just do mortar and I'll do those last stones. Then we'll get that bonus and we can knock off for a couple of days and play cards."
"No, you don't," said Heyes. "Stones for both or neither. Pick up that trowel, Kid. I'll get that little stone to go in that hole."
As the pair got back to work, farmer Taylor came up behind them with a bucket of water. Heyes looked at the Kid in distress – had their employer heard the nick name he had called his partner? Curry was unsure, as well.
"Help yourselves, boys," Taylor said, giving no sign of suspicion. "The stars will be out soon. I'll do that last bit of mortar myself."
"We shouldn't let you do that, but I think we will, sir." Said the Kid. "Our backs are mighty sore."
"Wait, do we still get that bonus?" Asked Heyes uncertainly.
Taylor reached into his breast pocket and pulled out several bills. He handed some to each of his employees. "There you go." It was too dark to check the amount in the gathering evening shadows, but by now they trusted farmer Taylor completely.
"Thank you, Mr. Taylor," said Heyes, putting out his hand. "It's been our pleasure to get to spend time with you."
"Yes, it has." Agreed his partner. He shook Mr. Taylor's hand. "Thank you."
"It's been good to have you, Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones," said the old man. "You come see me if you ever get back out this way."
As they tacked up their horses in the lamp lit barn, Heyes realized part of his pay was about to come out of his pocket. He pulled the bills out of his pocket. "Wait a minute, he forgot to hold back a buck for horse feed. Check yours, Jones. Did he take it out of your pay?"
The Kid checked his cash. "No – he gave us 15 bucks each, ten hour's pay and bonus. We better remind him. He might think we stole the extra."
They found Mr. Taylor feeding and watering his horse and cow. "Mr. Taylor, you gave us too much," said Heyes. "We owe you a dollar each."
The spry farmer shook his head. "No, no, you worked long and hard and even did extra for me. You keep it."
"That's not fair," said the Kid. "Look, I'll give you a dollar, so we'll split the difference. How's that?"
Farmer Taylor brayed with laughter. "And to think I worried when you two first came that you might be bandits! You are good men!"
Heyes and the Kid were both chuckling and waving to their new friend as they rode away.
"So, Kid, are you warming up to paid labor? Are we learning how to be straight up citizens? You think we can make it with this amnesty thing?" Asked Hannibal Heyes as they went out the gate.
Curry was skeptical as his horse walked in the starlight. "Well, maybe amnesty, and maybe work for pay. Maybe. Tonight, I need to sleep, but that bonus means tomorrow we can play poker. We earned that stake fair and square."
"We did," agreed Heyes with a twinkle in his eye. "So, when we gamble all that away, back to honest paid hard labor?"
The Kid shook his head with vigor. "Not on your life! From now on, nothing hard on the back!"
"I'm with you!" Laughed Heyes.
The pair spurred their horses down the trail.
.