There But for Hannibal Heyes Goes Kid Curry (second in series)

by Red O'Toole

A chance meeting with a young gunslinger lands Heyes and Curry in the middle of a blood feud that will change their lives - if they survive it.

There but for Hannibal Heyes Goes Kid Curry

By Red O'Toole

Chapter One

"Hey, Kid, here's something interesting," Hannibal Heyes said, folding the newspaper so he could better read the article.

"What is it?" Kid Curry growled from under his floppy brown hat with the silver concho band, which was pulled over his face as he tried to grab an afternoon catnap before they hit the poker tables again that night. He had leaned his chair back on two legs and propped his booted feet up on the railing in front of the hotel, arms crossed over his chest, and had just begun to drift off when his partner jarred him back to wakefulness.

"The Silver Kid Strikes Again," the dark haired outlaw in the black hat read the headline that had caught his eye. "Y'ever heard of him?"

"Nope."

"Me neither. Anyway, it goes on to say, 'fresh from his successful gun battle in El Paso, Texas, last week in which he fatally shot one Charles Watson, the Silver Kid was involved in another altercation in Las Cruces, New Mexico, which left Zeke Tibbets dead in the street.'"

Interested, the Kid pushed back his hat and turned his blue eyes to his partner. "Charlie Watson and Zeke Tibbets?" he repeated.

"Mmmhmm."

"Neither of them were slouches on the draw - - 'course I could beat 'em, but they were definitely above average. This Silver Kid must be pretty good. What else does it say?"

"Says Charlie and Zeke both drew first so both killings were ruled self-defense."

"I'm not surprised. Those two are both short-tempered and downright mean. Can't say the world isn't a better place without 'em. Say, didn't they both ride with Luke Potter's gang?"

"Yup. Don't it strike you as a pretty strange coincidence that they were both killed by the same person?" Heyes quirked an eyebrow at his friend.

"Not really. Probably some bounty hunter."

"That's what I would've guessed, too, but this article says that both times this Silver Kid didn't put in a claim for the reward, just up an' rode out of town."

"Huh, that is strange. Some kinda grudge, maybe?"

"Quite likely. Potter's gang's known for their pure meanness."

"Why's he called the Silver Kid?"

"They give a description. It says, 'This up and coming gunslinger is described as under five and a half feet tall, of average build, with blond hair and gray eyes. He dresses in black from head to toe and had been given the moniker the Silver Kid due to his apparent youth and the quantity of silver ornamentations on his person and his black horse's saddle and bridle.'"

"He sounds pretty flashy," the Kid commented.

"Short, too," Heyes added. "He's either a kid not full grown, or a short man who's like a bantam rooster tryin' to prove how tough he is."

"Does it say anythin' 'bout what started these fights?"

"It says it appears both were disagreements over poker games. Kid," Heyes looked from the paper to his partner. "Let's avoid playing with anyone who fits this description."

"I think that's a good idea, Heyes, especially since these fights are heading our way."

"How do you figure that? There's four directions heading out of Las Cruces." The dark eyed outlaw turned a curious look on his friend.

"Simple, Heyes, this is Potter's regular stompin' ground an' if those were grudges, not coincidences, I figger Silver City'll see somethin' of the Silver Kid."

Surprised, Heyes said, "That's good thinkin', Kid. I must be rubbin' off on you after all these years!" He grinned widely as the Kid rolled his eyes.

No longer interested in sleep, Curry let his eyes wander the streets as his partner went back to reading his paper.

Silver City was not a large town, yet, but growth was visible in skeletons of new buildings being built and the streets at this hour were full of the hustle and bustle of commerce. Yet there was still an element of the wild west visible in the small groups of dusty cowboys riding in for a drink to cut the trail dust, mixing with the off-duty soldiers from the nearby fort, and the occasional well-dressed gambler loitering on the boardwalk before the serious evening games of chance

began.

Admidst all this activity Curry's sharp eyes latched on to one rider entering from the south and he reached over to tap his partner on the shoulder. "Heyes?"

"Hmm?" came the distracted reply.

"Did your grandma ever tell you to never talk about the Devil cuz he was sure to show up?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Cuz he's ridin' into town right now."

"What're you talkin' about?" Heyes looked up from his newspaper.

"Don't that look like the fellow you just described?" Curry gestured toward a rider just dismounting in front of the saloon.

"Sure does. Guess you were right, Kid. Maybe we oughta do our gamblin' at the other saloon tonight - - just to avoid trouble."

"Why? He ain't got a quarrel with us since we don't ride with Potter."

"If his quarrel is with Potter's gang and it hasn't just been a coincidence that his two victims were Potter's men."

"That's a mighty big coincidence, Heyes," Curry scoffed.

"That may be, Kid, but we got ourselves two more good reasons to avoid trouble - - Brigitte and Mary," Heyes reminded his partner.

"That's true, but if this Silver Kid is looking for trouble he ain't gonna just stick to one saloon. Now the Golden Slipper is the better of the two an' you done real well at the tables last night so I don't figger it makes much sense t'go anywhere else. Don't you want to raise our stake as fast as possible?"

"Of course I do, but I was just considerin' you, an' keepin' that gun of yours in its holster."

"If you didn't look so dishonest, I wouldn't have t'back y'up so often!" Curry retorted.

"Me look dishonest? If anyone looks criminal, it's you!" exclaimed Heyes indignantly.

"Really? Then how come I'm always havin' t'back you up?"

"Can I help it if people just can't accept that I'm a better poker player than they are?" Heyes put on his most innocent expression, which made Curry smile and shake his head.

"No, I guess you can't, so I'll just keep watchin' your back."

"And I do appreciate that, Kid, so if you think we should stick with the Golden Slipper then that's what we'll do."

The Golden Slipper was doing a rousing business when Heyes and Curry walked in later after dinner in the diner next to the hotel. They stepped up to the bar, ordered whiskey, then turned to survey the action as they sipped their drinks.

"Looks like another good night," Heyes commented, an eager light in his eyes, his fingers fairly itching to feel the cards. "See any sign of trouble?"

Curry's keen eyes had been busy scanning the room, evaluating the possible trouble spots, noting any but checking for one in particular. Not seeing any, the Kid replied, "Nope."

"See? You worry too much, Thaddeus."

"Me? It was you who said we shouldn't come here to avoid trouble!" Curry retorted indignantly.

"Come on, there's two open seats at that table over there." Heyes pushed away from the bar, grinning at how easy it was to get his partner's dander up.

They bought into the game and were soon absorbed in the complexities of poker - - Heyes to the exclusion of all else, but Curry, as always, kept his senses alert.

The Kid bowed to his partner's superiority at the game, but knew that his own skill was inhibited by the need to keep his eyes open for trouble, and knew also that it was his presence that allowed Heyes to devote his whole attention to it. So it was that he was aware of the rise in tension in the room as the saloon doors swung open and, glancing that way, he saw the Silver Kid pausing at the entrance, scanning the crowd just as Curry had.

Heyes sensed his partner's increased tension and followed his gaze to the gunslinger now walking to the bar. The two outlaws locked eyes and Heyes lifted his eyebrows and shrugged slightly.

"I believe it's your bet, Thaddeus," he said, breaking the silence.

"You're right, Joshua, it is," Kid agreed "I'll call."

Heyes dismissed the Silver Kid from his mind and returned his full attention to the game and the growing pile of chips in front of him.

Curry, however, continued to keep a wary eye on the gunman. He noticed how he leaned casually on the bar, glass of whiskey in hand, occasionally taking a sip, but leaving the glass mostly full when he left the saloon a few minutes later. Only when the doors swung shut behind him did Curry relax somewhat.

"Well, boys, I'm calling it a night," Heyes announced just past midnight. "My partner and I have to make an early start in the morning." He gathered up his chips with a friendly smile and took them to the bartender to cash in.

Curry saluted the other players and followed his partner, his winnings meager in comparison. He released his breath in a sigh of relief when the two of them stepped out into the night air.

Heyes heard and glanced at him in amusement. "All that tension can't be good for you, Thaddeus," he commented, using the Kid's alias in case the night had ears. "Y'gotta learn to relax more!"

"Whatever you say, Joshua," retorted Curry sarcastically.

Back in their room they pooled their winnings with the previous night's and Heyes counted it out loud. "$1200!" Kid exclaimed with a happy grin as he heard the grand total. "If this keeps up we'll be able to get that ranch started sooner than six months!"

"Are you excited about the ranch, Kid, or getting back to Mary?" the dark outlaw teased.

Rising to the bait, Curry shot back, "Oh, like you don't wanna get back to Brigitte!"

"In the worst way, Kid," Heyes replied suddenly completely serious. "How long have we been gone now?"

"A month."

"That all? Feels like six." Running a hand through his hair, the dark eyed outlaw sighed. "Never thought I'd feel this way, Kid."

"What way's that, Heyes?"

"This is gonna sound stupid ..."

"Well, that'll be a change," Curry grinned.

Heyes half-smiled at his partner's teasing, then became serious again. "Homesick. Never even felt that when we left Kansas."

"That's cuz there was nothing there t'call home anymore."

"You're right, of course, Kid." He paused pensively. "It's funny, though, how easy it is to start thinkin' of someplace as home. Scary, too."

"Scary? How so?"

"What if we lose it again? I just couldn't take it." The stark look of terror in Heyes' eyes struck the Kid hard since he had seen his partner stare down the muzzle of a gun with no hint of fear showing.

"We ain't gonna lose it, Heyes," Curry assured him.

"How can you be so sure, Kid?"

"Cuz we know how to protect what's ours now, Heyes. We was just kids then and couldn't do anything. It ain't like you to be so negative."

"Maybe it's cuz I can see so many things that can go wrong. We are still wanted outlaws, Kid. What if ..."

"Heyes," Curry interrupted. "You're gonna make yourself crazy with what ifs! We'll prepare as best we can an' then take each day as it comes. Don't let your imagination ruin your chance for happiness!"

Dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Kid, how are you gettin' t'be so wise? That's twice today!"

"It ain't wise, just common sense. Sometimes not havin' an imagination is a good thing. I ain't plagued with wild ideas of what might be, I just deal with what comes my way."

Heyes sighed. "I wish I could be like that, but I just can't stop thinkin'!"

Curry's bright smile lit his face. "I'm glad you're not! Life'd be pretty boring if you was an' we'd never've been as successful as outlaws neither!"

"What would I do without you, Kid?"

"It don't bear thinkin' about, Heyes!" Curry shook his head in mock despair making Heyes laugh.

"We'd better get some sleep, Kid, or we'll be sleepin' in the saddle tomorrow!"

Sunrise found Heyes already up. As he shaved he could see his partner reflected in the mirror, still sleeping peacefully. He smiled affectionately at the innocent seeming face framed by tousled blond curls before grabbing his pillow and throwing it forcefully.

The impact of the feathery projectile jerked Curry rudely out of his sleep to reach instinctively for his gun hanging near his head. His hand grasped the pistol grip just as his sleepy eyes noticed Heyes grinning mischievously at him.

"Heyes, I swear I'm gonna shoot you on accident one day if you keep this up!" Curry growled and flopped back down.

"No, you won't," his partner denied confidently. "Besides, if you'd wake up sooner I wouldn't have to!"

"Honestly, I don't know how you get by on four hours sleep, not to mention only enough food to feed a mouse!"

"Speaking of food, if you're gonna have time to eat your usual two breakfasts, you'd better get a move on!"

"There ain't that much hurry, Heyes," Curry protested. "The telegraph office don't open 'til eight, an' it's what, six now?"

"Six thirty to be exact."

"Oh, I stand corrected," Curry snarled, but began to roust himself out of the warm blankets. He began tugging on his jeans. "Besides, somebody's gotta eat what you don't, Heyes-it's just wrong to waste good food!"

"That won't happen when you're around, Kid," Heyes teased, but he knew where his partner was coming from-they had been hungry too often to ignore a good hot meal when it was available. "C'mon, shavin' water's still warm."

While Curry scraped the whiskers off his face, Heyes packed both of their saddlebags and bedrolls and was watching the street from the window when the Kid finally buckled on his gunbelt, declaring himself ready.

"What's so interestin' out the window, Heyes? You been starin' now for five minutes."

"Nothin' now. A coupla mean lookin' fellas rode in a few minutes ago-went into the saloon."

"Y'know 'em?"

"Nah, just looked like trouble, is all."

"No trouble for us cuz we're eatin' an' gettin'," Curry said firmly. "Don't go borrowin' trouble, Heyes."

"I ain't, Kid, just don't want to be caught off guard."

"C'mon, I'm starvin'."

Grabbing their gear, they descended the stairs and paid the sleepy clerk at the front desk what they owed.

The café next door was mostly empty since it was still so early so they had their pick of tables. They carefully chose one that had a good view of the door and street.

The dour, middle-aged waitress-that both boys had been trying to tease a smile from in the two days they'd been here- poured them steaming cups of coffee as she took their breakfast orders.

"Meg, will the news that my partner an' I are leavin' today bring a smile to your face?" Curry asked in desperation as she brought their plates along with a basket of biscuits.

"Makes no never mind to me," she shrugged and moved away.

"Win some, lose some, Thaddeus," Heyes said with his own shrug.

"Well, I ain't gonna let it spoil my appetite, Joshua!" So saying Curry applied himself to his plate of eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes.

"As if anything could!" Heyes grinned and did justice to his own plate-leaving nothing for Curry to polish off.

Finished, they rose and Heyes left the payment on the table. At the door he turned back and saw Meg pick up the money and count it. In surprise she looked at Heyes, then at the money, then back at Heyes again. Heyes smiled gently and tipped his hat to her. As Kid turned back to see what his partner was waiting for, he caught the tremulous smile on Meg's face.

"How'd you do that, Heyes?" he demanded as the door closed behind them.

"I left her a twenty dollar tip!" Heyes replied smugly.

"Twenty dollars!" Curry exclaimed. "Do you know what you can buy with twenty dollars?"

"Perfectly well, and so does she, Kid, hence the smile. She needs that money more than we do."

Shaking his head in amazement, Curry said, "How you figure these things out is beyond me."

"Simple observation, Kid."

"I knew there was some reason I kept you around," Curry joked.

"How 'bout I wire the money while you get the horses from the livery?"

"Okay, meet you in front of the hotel in ten minutes."

The two outlaws set off in opposite directions and, without encountering any difficulties were soon reunited at the hitching post in front of the hotel.

"Got the money sent okay?"

"Yup, got a telegraph back from Brigitte, too."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are y'gonna tell me what it said, or not?" Curry demanded.

Eyes twinkling mischievously, Heyes handed his partner the folded paper.

"Here, you can read it yourself."

Curry's blue eyes scanned the telegraph, his lips moving silently as he read. He looked up when he had finished and said, "I can't believe they're building the house already!"

"Brigitte's a take charge and get things done kind of girl," Heyes replied proudly.

"A lot like you. I can't wait to see the fireworks should you two ever disagree and butt heads!"

"Now that you've taught her to fast draw, she'll probably shoot me!"

"Blame yourself for that, Heyes - - you twisted my arm! I -"

Whatever Curry would have said was cut off by shouts from the saloon. They both turned to see excited patrons spilling out of the saloon to line the boardwalk on both sides of the swinging

doors, intently watching the unfolding action: in the middle of the dusty street stood the Silver Kid.

"Come out an' face me like a man, Baxter!" he challenged.

Curry glanced at Heyes. "Told you the fights were heading this way."

"Well, we've got time to ride out before the shooting starts," Heyes suggested.

"No, I've gotta see this!"

The dark outlaw quirked his eyebrow at his partner. "Didn't know you were into watching men get gunned down, Kid."

"Professional curiosity, Heyes. It's always good to keep an eye on the competition."

"You gonna let everybody know the yellow-bellied coward that you are. Baxter?" the short gunslinger shouted.

"Sounds young," Heyes commented.

"Have you seen his face?" Curry replied. "Don't look like he's ever shaved!"

The saloon's swinging doors were pushed open again and a burly man with three day's growth of black whiskers on his chin and a cigarette dangling from his lips stepped through. Heyes recognized him as one of the two mean-looking men who had just ridden in this morning; the second, as yet unnamed man, followed closely behind him.

"I ain't got no grievance 'gainst you, boy," Baxter growled.

"Don' t matter-I got one against you," the Silver Kid replied.

"I don't even know you!"

"You killed my family - - you and your friends," the youth declared.

"An' which family was that?"

"Well now, your askin' that begs the question 'how many others have you killed?' to be asked. Obviously mine wasn't the only one, so let's just say I will exact retribution for them all. Now, step out into the street if you're a man."

"If'n yer dead set on dyin' young, boy, I reckon I'll oblige ya!" Baxter replied cockily, tossing away his cigarette, and swaggered into the street.

"What odds d'ya give the kid, Kid?" Heyes quietly asked the blond gunslinger at his side.

Curry didn't take his icy blue eyes off the unfolding drama as he replied, "If experience counts for anything, he ain't got a snowball's chance in Hell, but I'd'a said the same for the other two he's killed. I'm pullin' for him, though."

A tense silence reigned on the street for several moments and then both opponents went for their guns at the same time.

Two gunshots echoed off the buildings and as the sound faded, Baxter's legs slowly collapsed and he hit the dust of the street, a look of stunned surprise frozen on his face, and a spreading crimson stain on his chest-yet there was still life in him.

With what strength he had left, the wounded man struggled to rise and fire a second shot. Seemingly unconcerned, the Silver Kid approached his victim, a grim look on his face. His booted foot crushed the trembling hand holding the gun to the ground as he squatted to stare into Baxter's dimming eyes. Whether he said anything to him, or not, no one could say, but not until Baxter released his final breath did the Silver Kid take his eyes from the dying man's and none watching dared speak.

Rising to his feet at last, he turned to the man who had ridden in with Baxter, whose face paled slightly under its layer of dust. "I ain't got a problem with you, mister," the gunslinger assured him. "But you can take this message to Potter for me - - he's next an' there ain't nowhere he can hide from me!"

No one tried to stop him as he mounted his black horse and kicked it into an unhurried lope out of town.

A heartbeat later excited chatter broke out amongst the onlookers and only Heyes and Curry noted the designated messenger running to his own horse and spurring it out of town in the opposite direction.

"That was the most cold-blooded, unfeeling spectacle I've ever witnessed!" Heyes exclaimed, shaken even though he was no stranger to sudden death.

"I beg to differ, Heyes," Curry contradicted, tearing his eyes away from the distance where the Silver Kid had disappeared. "You just saw full-blown, passionate hatred there. A cold-blooded killer would have walked away once the job was done while this one had to actually see his victim die before he was satisfied. I've never seen such a thing before."

"I hope to never see it again! Let's go!"

As one the two outlaws swung onto their horses and Curry reined his to ride west out of town. Heyes' voice made him turn around.

"Uh, Kid, you sure we want to go that way?"

"That's the way to Yuma, ain't it?"

"Yup."

"Ain't that where we're goin'?"

"Yup."

"So what's your problem?"

Heyes sat with his arms leaning on the horn of his saddle. "That Silver Kid rode that way."

"Yeah, your point bein'?"

"Trouble's gonna follow him and we'll be caught in the middle."

"Maybe we can help 'im out."

Heyes stared incredulously at his partner. "Are you crazy? Do you want to get in between that gunslinger and Potter's gang? You know Potter ain't gonna come after 'im alone!"

"Exactly my point."

"What point is that, exactly?" Heyes nearly shouted in frustration.

"In a fair fight, this kid has a chance, although Potter is supposed to be faster than everyone else in his gang, an' I'd like to see him get that chance."

"Any particular reason? You don't even know this kid."

Curry shrugged.

"You're gonna be stubborn about this, aren't you? All right then, lead on."

Heyes had known the Kid long enough to know that it was useless to try to talk to him when he was in this mood. If he backed off now, perhaps later he could reason with him.

They loped unhurriedly down the road; each absorbed in his own thoughts.

When they slowed to a walk to rest their horses some time later, Heyes broached the subject once again. "You do remember all the trouble your last good deed got us into, don't you? With Joe, the bounty hunter?"

"I remember, but this is different," Curry replied somewhat sullenly.

"How exactly is it different?"

Curry remained silent for so long Heyes thought he wouldn't answer, then in a quiet voice he said, "He reminds me of me."

"Really? In what way, besides his being a fast gun?"

Curry opened his mouth to reply, then shut it with a pensive frown. Heyes kept silent, seeing his partner struggling with something.

"Actually, he reminds me of what I might have been if I hadn't had you, Heyes," Curry finally choked out. "I had that burning anger inside me, too, after our families were killed, but you kept me calm, sane, in control. Then, those years we were apart, it was like a bonfire burning in my soul and that's when my reputation began. You heard the stories."

"I don't believe you would have, Kid," Heyes contradicted. "I don't believe you have it in you to be a killer - cold-blooded or otherwise."

Curry shook his head, a haunted look in his eyes. "I was just a step away, Heyes. If I hadn't met back up with you when I did - - well, I might not even be alive today; I'd'a probably been hung, or gunned down by somebody faster."

"Ain't nobody faster, an' I wouldn't of let you hang, Kid. But even if he reminds you of you, how does it follow that we should get involved?"

"It don't appear he has anybody like you t'hold 'im back."

"Hold 'im back? It's a little late for that, ain't it? He's already killed three men!"

"You heard why, Heyes."

"I heard what he said, that don't mean I believe it."

"Have I mentioned before that you're a miserable cynic, Heyes?" Curry frowned across at his partner.

"You may have, but it's helped keep us alive this far."

"Look, we're goin' in the same direction, we can just keep an eye out that he doesn't get bushwhacked. How's that?"

Heyes pondered the idea, frowning, still not happy with the risk. Before he could answer, the nicker of a horse from a copse of trees claimed their attention. Kid's gun was immediately in his hand and he eyed the trees warily. Heyes drew his gun also. Without needing to say a word, the pair reined their horses towards the clump of trees. Dismounting, they crept silently

into the shady depths, ready for anything.

They heard the nicker again and the soft gurgling of a stream and, using the trees as cover, approached.

They recognized the Silver Kid's black before they heard a small sound over the running water and turned to see the figure of the gunfighter hunched over on the bank of the stream, retching, oblivious to everything but his misery.

With a jerk of his head Curry indicated they should leave. Although they probably didn't need to worry about noise, they still left as quietly as they had come.

"I don't think he'd appreciate knowing we saw that," the Kid commented. When Heyes didn't respond he looked at his partner, noticing the furrowed brow. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you think it's strange that after three killings he's still getting sick? Wouldn't he be hardened to it by now?"

Curry shrugged. "You're the genius, Heyes. Personally, I'm not the sickly type."

"No, you're the broody type. If you still want to keep an eye on him, Kid, we'd better hang back a bit until he's on the road again."

"What's changed your mind?"

"I haven't, but, as you said, we are going in the same direction and I'll humor you this time." "That's mighty big-hearted of you, Heyes," Curry replied wryly.

The two outlaws hunkered down under the cover of the trees and waited. Curry settled his hat over his eyes, having learned to catch rest when he could.

Heyes sat quietly, his thoughts thrown into the past, to another boy, much younger, losing the contents of his stomach after looking on the bloody remains of his family. To how he had had to fight the continuing nausea as he buried them all.

He had never stopped to analyze how this violent act, and the murder of Jed's family, on top of the violence of the war all around them, had shaped his aversion to violence. How was it? he asked himself now, that the same events turned one person towards violence and another away? Jed had taken to the gun like a fish to water - - would he have had Heyes not protected him from the carnage? Why had this gunfighter chosen vengeance over legal justice? He ran his fingers absentmindedly through his hair as he realized he couldn't know the answer, but he did know that he had felt a connection with the sick gunman; a desire to protect him as he had the Kid so many years ago. Can't let the Kid know that, he'll think I'm getting soft, he thought.

Hoofbeats on the road drew both outlaw's attention and Curry stepped cautiously to the side of the road. "It's him," he reported.

"Let's give 'im five minutes head start," Heyes suggested. "No sign of Potter?"

"No, but you know he ain't likely t'take the main road. From what I've heard of him, he's more like t'shoot 'im in the back from hiding!"

"Yeah, outlaws like him give outlaws like us a bad name!" Heyes quipped.

Curry rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Heyes. You know we weren't never bad like that even when we was bad. Outlaws these days just ain't got no standards!"

"Did you just hear yourself, Kid?" Heyes laughed in delight. "The law don't draw no distinctions between us "good" outlaws and the "bad" outlaws - we're all the same to them!"

"Y'wouldn't catch the governor offerin' Potter amnesty!" Curry snorted. "So somebody's seein' the difference!"

"Fortunately for us." Heyes paused and then asked, "So what was your professional opinion of the Silver Kid?"

"I could beat 'im," the gunslinger replied matter-of-factly.

"I know that, Kid, nobody can beat you! What else?"

"He does that same twist to the side that you do when he draws."

"What twist?" the other demanded indignantly.

"Trust me, you twist," Curry sighed. "Anyway that little movement slows 'im down an' it'll probably be fatal someday. Whoever taught 'im should've corrected that."

"Maybe he's self-taught."

"Then somebody needs to correct 'im."

"You planning t'make that somebody you?" A dark eyebrow raised.

"Maybe."

"First Brigitte, now this fella. Why don't you open a school already!"

"I don't want anybody t'go into this business, Heyes, but does it hurt to help somebody who already is?"

"Yeah! What if he comes after you someday? You'll have helped him to maybe kill you!"

"He won't."

"You don't know that!" Heyes exclaimed.

"Heyes," Curry began calmly and patiently. "He's ridin' the vengeance trail; he don't have a quarrel with me."

"And if he's gotten a taste for killing?"

"You can ask that after what we just saw?"

"I suppose you're right."

"Trust me on this one, Heyes; this is what I know."

"Okay," Heyes gave in, wanting to believe him.

The rest of the morning and into the afternoon passed pleasantly with no sign of Potter or anyone else on the road. The Silver Kid made no stop for lunch and Curry spoke no word of complaint that he had missed a meal.

As the afternoon waned, the lone rider turned off the road onto a faint overgrown trail that headed into the hills.

"He seems to have a destination in mind," Curry commented.

"Could he be planning to confront Potter at his hideout?" Heyes wondered.

"Sure, if he has a death wish," the gunman snorted.

"It's gonna be more difficult following now without being spotted."

"We'll have to hang farther back an' keep an eye on his tracks."

"Remind me again, Kid, just why we're goin' to all this trouble for someone we don't even know, an' who probably won't appreciate us buttin' our noses into his business?" Heyes was still feeling some reluctance to sidetrack themselves from their goal, even though he sympathized with the young stranger.

"My gut," was the Kid's short reply.

"Your gut? Kid, y'sure y'ain't just hungry?" his partner exclaimed.

"I ain't hungry - - well, I am, but that ain't it. C'mon, Heyes, you can't tell me y'ain't curious - - I know you."

"Sure, I'm curious, but your gut and my curiosity have gotten us into serious trouble before."

"Nothin' you couldn't think us out of, or I couldn't shoot us out of," Curry grinned.

"Fine, fine, have it your way, Kid," Heyes sighed dramatically. "Lead on."

Trouble struck at sunset as two gunshots reverberated off the hills, followed by the scream of a horse. As one the two outlaws drew their guns and kicked their horses into a run, hoping they wouldn't be too late.

They rounded the curve that had hidden the Silver Kid from sight just in time to see him staggering to his feet, blood streaming down the side of his face, his six gun blazing at the four riders bearing rapidly down on him. Struck again, he fell just as Heyes and Curry raced by, hunched over their horses' necks to make themselves smaller targets.

Seeing that their prey had fallen and reinforcements had arrived, the attackers spun their horses around and high-tailed it back the way they had come.

"See to the kid, Heyes!" Curry shouted. "I'll make sure they keep runnin'!"

"Be careful!" Heyes called pulling his horse to a sliding stop.

Whirling, he galloped back to the small, dark figure lying deathly still in the dust of the trail. Don't be dead! Don't be dead! His mind whispered repeatedly. Oh, how he hated digging graves!

He dismounted and knelt beside the Silver Kid, gently rolling him to his back. The face, where it wasn't covered in blood and dust, was ghostly pale. Heyes leaned over and placed his ear against the wounded man's chest and was relieved to hear the heart still beating.

Although the graze on the forehead was still bleeding, it wasn't a fatal wound, but the second could be more serious - probably was since it hit the body. Heyes unfastened the black leather vest and immediately spotted the shiny wet spot spreading quickly across the young man's left shoulder. He carefully unbuttoned the black shirt to assess the damage, but when he pulled the shirt aside, he jerked back in consternation. "Ah, hell!" he exclaimed.

"How is he, Heyes?" Curry called as he galloped up and reined in his horse.

"Well, he's shot pretty bad, but that ain't our only problem, Kid," Heyes replied.

"No, what else?"

"He ain't a 'he' - - he's a 'she'!"

"What?" Curry leaped off his horse and came to his partner's side. "How do you know? Looked like a fella t'me!"

Heyes rolled his eyes. "Did you hear what you just asked me, Kid? That'd be funny if this wasn't serious! I think I know a girl when I see one!"

Kid's eyes widened as he looked down and took in the bands of linen bound around the exposed chest that now bore little resemblance to a man's. "The Silver Kid's a girl? Sure had me fooled!"

"You an' everybody else, Kid. Now toss me some of those bandages Brigitte packed in our saddlebags and let me see if I can get this bleeding stopped. The second bullet got her in the left shoulder." He rolled her partly to her side to look at her back. "No exit wound - - that means we're gonna hafta dig the bullet out!"

Curry handed Heyes a roll of bandages and knelt beside him. "We? I can't cut into a girl, Heyes!"

"What's the difference, Kid, other than the obvious ones that don't matter in the matter of diggin' out a bullet?" Heyes retorted, pressing the clean cloth to the shoulder wound, efficiency taking over from his initial shock. "Here, see what you can do with that head graze."

Curry took the offered cloth and dabbed gently at the blood flowing from the deep gouge.

"You're gonna hafta do better than that, Kid!" Heyes snorted.

"I might hurt her."

"She's unconscious, Kid, she can't feel it!"

"Oh, right."

After several minutes, Curry had the head wound's bleeding stopped, but Heyes had only managed to slow it from the shoulder. He finally looked up and said, "This isn't going to stop until we get that bullet out and this ain't the best place to do it - - out here in the open like this. I'm going to carry her over to those boulders over there. They should give us some

shelter and a bit more protection in case Potter comes back."

"I'll gather up the horses and follow you," Curry said.

Lifting the wounded girl carefully, Heyes made the journey of about a hundred yards, grateful it was any farther for, although she wasn't particularly heavy, she was a dead weight.

Behind the boulders was a smooth, sandy space that abutted the rise of the closest hill. An old fire ring gave evidence that at one time someone else had used this spot as a campsite. There was even a smile pile of sun-bleached firewood. The jagged rocky incline of the hill made it difficult for anyone on the top to see anyone who might be sheltering below.

Heyes laid his burden down and, after making sure she was still breathing, set about making a fire.

Curry walked up with the three horses in tow. In answer to Heyes' questioning look he said, "Her horse has a nasty graze in his shoulder and couldn't walk very fast. D'ya think that salve Brigitte gave us is good for him?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good. I'll doctor him after you're done with her."

"After I'm done with her? Just what does that mean?"

"I told you I can't cut into a girl, Heyes!" Curry repeated forcefully. "'Sides, your hands are more sensitive than mine - - that's why you're so good crackin' safes!"

Heyes shot his partner a dark look. "Fine. You can fetch more wood for the fire - - I need it nice and hot to heat the knife to cauterize the wound once I've gotten the bullet out. Hurry, though, I want to get it out before she wakes up if possible!"

Luck held and she was still unconscious when Heyes had finished his preparations. "Stay close, Kid, I'll need you to hand me that knife and you may need to hold her down if she starts to wake up."

"I ain't goin' nowhere, Heyes - - I'm backin' you up like always."

It wasn't the first time the outlaw leader had had to dig out a bullet. The worst had been the one from the Kid's leg, because he'd rather have cut into his own flesh, but still he had to take several deep breaths to calm his nerves before cutting into the bloody wound.

Fortunately the leather vest had slowed the bullet enough that it had not ricocheted off a bone and gone elsewhere; instead Heyes found it easily straight in.

Dropping the bloody lump of lead onto the ground, Heyes reached out his right hand, while with his left hand he tried to stanch the renewed gush of blood from the wound, and said, "The knife, Kid."

Curry carefully placed the red-hot knife in his partner's hand. "I hate this part," he muttered.

Quickly, before it cooled, Heyes pressed the blade into the wound, which hissed like meat slapped into a frying pan, and the air filled with the smell of burning flesh. Heyes grimaced but didn't flinch.

The searing pain stabbed into the wounded girl's unconscious mind and she moaned, instinctively attempting to twist away, but Curry was there to hold her still.

Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, Heyes removed the now cooled blade and Curry released his hold as she lapsed into silent unconsciousness again. Next, he took a jar of salve out of his saddlebags and smeared it liberally over the livid wound, wrinkling his nose at the medicinal smell.

"Can you lift her up while I wrap the bandages?"

Curry held her carefully while Heyes applied a thick cotton pad and then secured it by wrapping cotton strips around the shoulder and then around her chest, the bandages joining with the linen breast bands.

"Well, that's the best I can do with that one," Heyes sighed as he tied the ends off. "Now I'll put some salve on the head wound and rebandage it, after that we'll just have to hope for the best."

"You don't think she'll die, do you?" Curry worried.

"Nah," the other scoffed. "She's lost some blood, but not that much. She oughta recover well enough. She's lucky it wasn't her gun arm that was injured; at least she won't be helpless in the meantime. Potter saw her fall so hopefully he'll think she's dead." His words were hopeful, but his tone of voice expressed disbelief.

"From all I've heard about Potter, he's scavenger enough to come make sure the body's not breathin', even if it means puttin' another bullet in it!" Curry's voice was filled with disgust at the depths to which the other outlaw had sunk. "We ain't gonna just leave her here, though, are we?"

"Relax, Kid, we ain't gonna leave her here! But the reality is that we can't stay with her forever - - we got our own business to attend to!"

"I know, I know," the blond outlaw sighed, his eyes downcast. "I reckon I'll go doctor her horse." He picked up the pot of salve and walked away.

Heyes shook his head at his partner's departing back. For a man with the Kid's reputation, he had the softest heart of anyone Heyes had ever known, except for the Kid's mother - - he supposed that was where he came by it. Devil's Hole would have been filled with every kind of stray if the Kid had had his way and if there was a lady in distress he would be the first to dash to her aid. There were no dime novel heroes better than Kid Curry, Heyes thought. Hell, the Kid oughta

be a dime novel hero!

With a final shake of his head, he set about making their patient more comfortable. He took his bedroll off his horse, along with his coat, and put the rolled up coat under her head. He pulled her shirt closed for some measure of modesty, though it was a mite late for that, and then covered her with his blanket. He laid his ear against her chest and was satisfied with the steady beat of her heart.

Without needing words the two long-term partners proceeded with setting up camp. Since the Kid was occupied with the horses, Heyes began preparing supper, keeping one eye out for any movement from the injured girl, but there was none.

Full darkness had fallen and the two outlaws were nursing second cups of coffee when they heard a low moan. Setting down their cups, they both hurried to the Silver Kid's side.

Eyes dark with pain blinked open but didn't seem to focus on anything. Her cheeks were flushed and covered with a light sheen of perspiration. Heyes laid a hand against a cheek and frowned. "She's starting to fever. Can you hand me the whiskey, Kid? If we can get some of that down her maybe she'll sweat the fever out. Might ease the pain some, too."

While Curry rummaged in his saddlebags, Heyes took a quick look at the bandaged shoulder, satisfied to see it unsoiled by bleeding.

He looked up and found her eyes focused on him. Her eyebrows twitched into a slight frown and she whispered, "Who ...?"

"My name's Joshua an' my partner an' I are friends. You're safe."

"What happened?"

"Don't you remember?"

She shook her head slightly, wincing.

"You got shot, but you're gonna be fine."

"I seem to remember shooting," she frowned again, her eyes closing against the pain. "My head hurts."

"That's cuz y'got hit in the head with a bullet! I'd be surprised if it didn't!"

Curry squatted down on her other side with a bottle of Dr. O'Reilly's good Irish whiskey in his hand and a concerned look on his face.

"This here's my partner, Thaddeus. Now, I'm gonna lift you up a bit an' I want you to drink as much of this stuff as you can - - it'll help burn the fever outta ya and numb some of that pain you're feelin'."

"What is it?"

"Best Irish whiskey you'll ever taste! Here we go, easy now!"

Heyes slipped an arm under her shoulders and raised her to a semi-sitting position while Curry held the bottle to her lips and tipped it until a trickle filled her mouth. She swallowed and then coughed as the fiery liquid burned down her throat.

"More," Heyes urged. Four swallows later he nodded to Curry that it was enough and eased her back. "Rest now. If you can ride, we need to leave tomorrow - - they might come back."

"Okay," she slurred, the alcohol affecting her already. Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep. Heyes pulled the blanket up and tucked it securely around her.

"I thought you said you didn't care what happened to the Silver Kid," Curry commented, his eyes twinkling.

"I said it wasn't our business, Kid, there's a difference!"

They retrieved their cups and poured fresh cups of coffee. Heyes was silent, staring into his cup, an unaccustomed frown on his face. Without looking up, he asked, "Do you really think I'm that hard-hearted, Kid?"

"What?" Curry was taken by surprise by the question.

"Did you truly believe I could have left her, or him as we thought, to die, or now to fend for herself injured as she is? Is that how you think of me?" Heyes looked up, his dark eyes shadowed by more than the night.

"I know you ain't hard-hearted, Heyes!" Curry was shocked that his best friend could think that. "It's gettin' through the wall you've built around your heart that's hard!"

"What're you talkin' about?"

"C'mon, Heyes, d'you really think I don't know what you've done for me, for us, and to yourself all these years?"

"Now I'm sure I don't know what you're talkin' about," Heyes replied, but his eyes slipped away from Curry's.

"Yes, you do," the blond gunslinger insisted. "I know what you protected me from when our folks was killed." At his partner's startled look, Curry smiled a wry smile and went on, "I can read, y'know, Heyes, just cuz I don't pick up a book at every chance like you do! I read newspaper stories of the raid and I've talked to people who were there after. I know it's not the same as seein' what you did, but I know what you saw an' I never saw you cry. I was bawlin' my fool head off, but you never cried. Then at the Home you was still protectin' me, takin' beatin's for me, goin' hungry so I got enough, an' y'still never cried! Y' kept us goin' after we run away from the Home, stuck with me even though y'didn't have to. You was my hero, Heyes, an' I wanted to be just like you - - smart an' tough an' brave. I knew I'd never be smart like you, so I had to go with tough an' brave. Now I know what that cost you, how you had t' hide your feelin's so's you'd seem strong to a kid like me."

That was a long speech for the usually taciturn Kid Curry and silence reigned except for the crackling of the fire when he fell silent; Heyes staring at him with an unreadable expression for long moments.

"What've I told you about thinkin', Kid," Heyes said gruffly when he finally broke the silence.

"Scoff if you want, Heyes, but I know an' I'm sorry y'had to do that for me, though I'm grateful you did."

"Better get some sleep - - it's gonna be a long day tomorrow," Heyes said, changing the subject.

Curry knew when Heyes got that closed look on his face there was no talking to him so he unrolled his bedroll and settled himself to sleep.

Heyes rose and checked on the wounded girl. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough so he prepared his own bed, but lay wide awake - - sleep nowhere near.

This whole encounter with the Silver Kid and then Kid's speech had stirred up dark memories that he had spent years trying to suppress.

Kid's hero! How far from reality that was! Ever since they were kids Heyes had led the younger Jed into mischief and more whuppings that he'd've gotten by himself.

He remembered one occasion in particular, though he couldn't remember precisely what they'd done, but it had earned them serious beatings. Heyes had lain in his loft bed crying as softly as possible into his pillow. After a while his mother had come up and sat beside him, smoothing his hair gently with her hand. "I know you're not crying because you were whipped, Hannibal; you're crying for Jed's whipping, isn't that right?"

Her gentle voice putting words to his pain had been like rubbing salt in a wound and he had burned with shame.

"It was my fault, Ma!" He had turned his tear-stained face to his mother. "Jed shouldn't've been whipped!"

"No matter whose idea it was, you both did wrong. Isn't that right?"

Unable to speak further through the lump in his throat, Heyes had nodded miserably.

"Jed looks up to you, Hannibal; in his eyes you can do no wrong, so you must be careful where you lead him. You are older and so must be more responsible. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma," the young Heyes had whispered, truly meaning it at that moment and for some time after. Until the day he had urged Jed to ditch his chores to go fishing with him - - that fateful day of the raid on Lawrence. Had he kept his promise to his mother, he and Jed would have died along with their families. How many nights had he agonized over it? His logical side telling him he couldn't have done anything to help them - -only die himself. Had fate played a cruel trick and

even now laughed at him? Or had it done them a kindness, saving them for some other fate?

He shook himself out of his dark thoughts and listened to the soft steady breathing of his partner; Curry rarely had trouble sleeping - - or eating for that matter, Heyes snorted.

He quietly slipped out of his blanket and went to check on the Silver Kid. Perspiration dripped down her face and she had tossed the blanket part way off. She was breathing rapidly and her brows were drawn together in pain.

Heyes tucked the blanket back around her and used his bandana to wipe the moisture off her face.

Her eyes flickered and opened. "Thirsty," she gasped.

"Hold on."

Heyes fetched his canteen and raised her head enough that she could take small sips.

"Thanks," she whispered when she'd had enough.

Heyes eased her head back down and replied, "No problem. Are you in much pain?"

"Some."

"I've got more whiskey," he offered.

"'S okay," she replied with a small negative shake of her head. "My horse - - is he all right?"

"He's got a bullet graze across one shoulder, but Thaddeus doctored him and he'll be fine, though he'll limp for a few days."

She visibly relaxed with a sigh. "That's good - - he's all I have left." She sighed again and drifted back to sleep.

Heyes sat beside her for some time, watching her breathe, wondering how she had become a killer.

Finally, he knew he had to try and get some sleep so he rolled back into his blanket. The late night of poker and the exertions of the day soon allowed him to rest.

Even being the last to sleep, Heyes was still first up in the morning. He had the fire going, coffee brewing, and bacon frying in a pan before Curry raised his tousled head, his eyes still sleepy.

"Your coffee again?" he complained.

"Well, Kid, you can either get your beauty sleep, or drink good coffee; take your pick!" Heyes replied with a cheerful smile.

"Even the birds don't get up earlier than you, Heyes!" Curry tossed off his blanket and reached for his boots. "How is she?" He nodded toward the still-sleeping form.

"She woke up thirsty and worried about her horse and still feverish, but the fever's broken now. I expect she'll be sore, but able to move on today."

"To where? Potter's gonna be on the look out once he doesn't find a body."

"Well, we'll have to ask her where she was headed in the first place then decide."

Heyes set the pan of crisp bacon aside and unwrapped a napkin of biscuits from the diner in Silver City. "Have your breakfast, Kid, while I check her bandages."

Curry didn't need to be told twice as he poured a cup of coffee and split open a biscuit to make a bacon sandwich, all the while keeping his eye on his friend.

Bandages and ointment in hand, Heyes approached the still figure. He knelt down and unbound the bandage around her head. He winced at the angry gash, but was glad to see no sign of infection.

Though he tried to be gentle reapplying the salve, she stirred and moaned softly. He placed a clean linen pad against the wound and rebound it just secure enough to hold the pad in place, moving her head as little as possible.

"Hey, Kid," he turned his head to ask for a canteen when an ominous double-click caused him to freeze.

"Who are you?" demanded an unsteady voice from behind him.

Very slowly, Heyes turned his head and found the business end of a Colt .45 only inches from his face. He shifted his brown eyes from the gun to the hard gray ones glaring at him suspiciously.

"Now, don't be hasty," he began.

Another double-click released some of the outlaw leader's tension. "I'd put that down if I were you," Curry said quietly.

"Well, you ain't me!" she shot back.

"There's no need for this," Heyes raised his hands placatingly. "Thaddeus, put your gun away. She's not going to shoot me."

"You don't know that!" the other exclaimed.

"Yes, I do. She's just a little confused cuz of that bullet to the head."

"Mister, y'ain't answered my question yet!" The pistol muzzle was steady even though Heyes could see the effort it was costing her by the sheen of perspiration on her face.

"My name's Joshua Smith, we met last night. That fella there is my partner, Thaddeus Jones."

Her eyebrows drew together as she concentrated. "Everything since I left Silver City is kind of hazy - - like a bad dream. I - - I seem to recall something - - someone making me drink whiskey?"

"That was us. We heard shooting and found you shot on the road. We had to dig a bullet out of your shoulder, plus there's that graze on your forehead. I bet you've got one whopper of a

headache!"

She nodded, wincing at the movement.

Heyes glanced at Curry and saw he still had his gun aimed at the injured girl. "Thaddeus, put your gun away."

Curry twirled the pistol expertly back into its holster, but remained alert for any hostile moves from the other.

"Now, why don't you put your gun down and we can talk like reasonable people," Heyes addressed the wounded girl. "We only want to help you."

"Why?" she demanded.

"You were hurt, does there have to be more reason than that?"

"There usually is."

"You're awfully young to be so cynical."

"I'm not as young as I look, but I guess you've given me no cause to distrust you so maybe I don't need this right now." With an expression of relief, she allowed her arm to drop to her lap, the gun slipping from her hand.

Heyes breathed a silent sigh of relief - - guns pointed at him made him decidedly nervous. "Now that we've decided to be friendly, have you got a name?"

"Mick," was the short reply.

Dark eyebrow lifted, the outlaw said, "Well, Mick, I need to change the bandage on your shoulder now, if you don't mind."

"Okay, I ..." she suddenly became aware of her state of dress - - her shirt had fallen off her shoulder and the blanket lay in her lap - - and a blush suffused her cheeks while a look of panic widened her eyes. She tried to pull the blanket back up and reach for her gun again at the same time, but her left arm collapsed beneath her as she yelped in pain.

"It's all right, Mick!" Heyes hastened to assure her. "We know you're a woman an' we ain't the kind to take advantage, even if you wasn't hurt! I just want to change that bandage - - nothing more."

For several moments there was a silent standoff between the three. Heyes kept still, an expression of what he hoped was sympathy and goodwill on his face. Curry resumed his alert status, his hand near his holster just in case.

"Time's far gone for me to be modest anyway," she finally muttered cryptically. "Go ahead."

"It'd help if you could sit up a little," he said. "Thaddeus, could you bring a saddle over here for her to lean against?"

Curry hefted the silver-studded saddle and arranged it behind Mick who accepted his silent assistance as she struggled to sit up against it.

Heyes untied the ends of the bandage and unwound it carefully to find that the pad had stuck to the wound. "I'm going to have to wet that to loosen it up before I take it off, or, besides hurting like the Devil, it may start the bleeding again. Hang on."

Curry kept his place watchfully behind her while his partner fetched a canteen and Dr. O'Reilly's bottle of whiskey.

Heyes moistened the stuck pad of cloth with water from the canteen and said, "It'll have to set a few minutes. Are you up to eatin' anything? We've got bacon, biscuits, and coffee."

She hesitated for a moment and then replied, "Coffee would be good."

"Y'oughta have a biscuit with that unless y'want a hole in your stomach!" Curry suggested, breaking his silence.

"Why's that?"

Heyes shot his partner a dark look and cut in, "He don't appreciate my coffee."

"I guess a biscuit would be good."

"I'll get it," the Kid volunteered.

Hannibal Heyes was famous for many things: his safe-cracking abilities, his silver tongue that had rarely failed him and, not least, his insatiable curiosity, which had often caused him to need his silver tongue. That curiosity was at full steam at the moment and he mulled over several ways to satisfy it, finally settling for, "It's a bit unusual for a girl to be on her own out here."

"I'm not a girl! I'm twenty-five years old!" she snapped. " And just maybe I prefer being on my own!"

"Maybe," the outlaw agreed. "Some folk do an' others don't have a choice. Take me, for instance. I might as well be on my own for all the talkin' Thaddeus does!"

It was Curry's turn to give his partner the dark look as he handed a cup of coffee and a biscuit to the woman. "It couldn't be that you just talk too much, Joshua?"

"Nope, that can't be it," Heyes retorted and caught the tiny uplift of Mick's lips quickly hidden behind the tin cup as she sipped the coffee.

"Not bad," she commented, causing Curry to roll his eyes. She took another, larger sip and sighed. "Tastes good actually."

"It's the bullet in the head!" the blond exclaimed. "It's affected your sense of taste!"

Now the smile wasn't hidden and the corners of her eyes crinkled giving Heyes the idea that smiling had once been a common thing for her. It made her pretty. Not that she wasn't pretty anyway, he mused not having given it much thought as at first he had thought her a boy and then he had been occupied with more important matters like tending her wounds.

Her features were finely drawn; straight eyebrows above the silver-gray eyes, which were large and framed by long eyelashes, the nose narrow and two full lips, formed her mouth. All in all it was a pleasant and very feminine face when studied closely. The blond hair was raggedly cut to just below her ears and pulled behind them, which created the illusion that she was a young man to the casual observer. Add the male clothes to the mix and the illusion was complete if

people weren't allowed to look too closely; and Heyes was pretty sure she hadn't allowed that.

As quick as it had come, the smile was gone, her face set hard, and the expression in her eyes haunted, flickering between anger and sorrow. "I got no choice - - I am alone." Silently she returned to her biscuit and coffee.

The two outlaws exchanged a glance and moved away to give her a moment.

Heyes poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped at it. "Would you have shot her, Kid?" he asked in a low voice.

"If I had to," Curry replied, his icy blue eyes cold, his expression the bland, matter-of-fact look that his partner knew meant he was in deadly earnest. "I'm glad she was reasonable."

"Me, too. I'd hate to have wasted all that doctorin' " His dimpled smile flashed

.

"Can you be serious, Heyes? She could have killed you!"

"Need I remind you that it was your idea to help her? Are you having second thoughts?" Dark eyebrows raised questioningly.

"When she had that gun in your face, I was afraid that I had killed you!"

Deliberately misunderstanding, Heyes said, "You wouldn't have been the one pulling the trigger!"

"Might as well have been, because it was my idea! You got no idea how that made me feel!"

"Oh, I think maybe I do." Tossing off the last of his coffee, Heyes turned back to their companion. "I think that bandage can come off more easily now."

"Go ahead," she replied.

Even though he was careful, his fingers gentle, he heard her breath suck in as he pulled the square of cloth away from the wound. The bullet hole was uglier in the bright light of day, the seared edges blackened, the flesh around it inflamed and somewhat swollen. "That's gonna leave an ugly scar," he commented.

"Doesn't matter."

He soaked a cloth with the whiskey. "This'll hurt, but I've got to clean it good so it doesn't get infected."

At her nod, he swabbed the wound and the area around it thoroughly and then applied another coat of ointment. Her only response through it all was to squeeze her eyes shut tightly, her jaws clamped together to smother any sounds of discomfort. She gasped aloud as he moved his hands away to fold another pad and he guessed that she had been holding her breath.

He placed the pad over the wound, saying, "Just about done."

She nodded and didn't flinch away as Curry helped support her while Heyes wrapped the binding around her shoulder and chest. Then he held her shirt and helped ease her arm into the sleeve, buttoning it closed while pretending not to see her blush again.

Curry leaned her back against the saddle while Heyes refilled her cup with fresh coffee liberally dosed with whiskey.

"Drink this, it'll numb the pain some."

She took the cup mutely and sipped, wrinkling her nose at the taste of the whiskey. "I appreciate what you two have done for me, but I think I can do for myself now. There's no need for you to stick around."

"Oh, you can, hmm?" Heyes replied disbelievingly. "Thaddeus, how heavy is her saddle?"

Curry pondered the question a moment, mentally weighing the saddle. "No less than sixty pounds, I'd say."

"You think you can lift sixty pounds one-armed? High enough to sling it over your horse's back?"

"I'll manage," she repeated stubbornly.

"Look, Mick, we saw what happened back in Silver City," Heyes said, deciding that leveling with her would be best. "We figure it was probably Potter and his boys who shot you yesterday. Most likely he'll be back to make sure you're dead."

"That's exactly why I want you to go! Being around me is going to be dangerous, and I don't want innocent people getting hurt! This is between me and Luke Potter - - no one else!"

"Look, we don't want to get between you an' Potter, as you say it ain't our fight, but you're in no condition right now to fight him!"

"I'll manage."

"T'get yourself killed, yeah!"

"As long as I get Potter first, it doesn't matter."

"An' if he gets you first?"

"Then nothin'll matter. Look, I've taken care of myself pretty well for goin' on two years, so I don't think I need a couple of nannies now!" Sparks of anger flashed from her silver eyes.

"Good, cuz we ain't in the nanny business!" Heyes snapped back. "Thaddeus, talk to her!"

"Tongue run out of silver, Joshua?" Curry grinned.

"It's like tryin' t'talk sense into you, Thaddeus!"

"I'm not changing my mind," Mick said stubbornly.

"I ain't gonna try t'talk you out of it. I am gonna ask you to prove you can manage: stand up and try to lift that saddle."

"Fine!"

She threw off the blanket and climbed quickly to her feet, immediately swaying with dizziness and would have fallen had Curry not caught her in his arms. He sat her back down against the saddle and squatted beside her. "You lost a bit of blood so you're gonna be weak for a few days. A body needs rest and care after bein' shot - - it ain't no reflection on how well a person can manage for himself regularly. If we can get you somewhere safe we'll feel better about leavin' you to

yourself."

"Maybe you're right," she agreed.

Curry tossed Heyes a smug look and the other rolled his eyes.

"You said back in Silver City that Potter killed your family - - your folks?"

A profound look of sadness fell over her face. "No, my husband, Mike, and our baby," she whispered.

"Didn't you have nobody to go to? No other family?" Even knowing how vicious Potter and his gang was reputed to be, this shocked the two outlaws.

"No. Both our parents died in a yellow fever outbreak where we lived in Ohio over seven years ago. We were all we had. We'd practically grown up together - - Mick and Mike - - it was taken for granted that we would eventually marry. It was while we were on our wedding trip to New York City that the fever struck - - they were all dead by the time we got back. We hadn't the heart to stay so we sold out and moved to Texas where we were building a horse ranch. It wasn't easy

starting over, but we had each other and that was enough. We'd been married five years with no children blessing us and so we'd pretty much figured we'd never have any, then a miracle happened. I was six months pregnant when Potter and his boys rode in and ripped everything away! They shot Mike and ..." she stopped as a lump formed in her throat.

"You don't need to talk about it if'n you don't want to," Curry said. He glanced over at Heyes, who had hunkered down nearby to listen, and saw his face had paled as the story unfolded, his lips pressed tightly together, and the Kid knew what he was feeling.

"No, it's okay." She took a deep breath and went on. "They all used me and beat me and hurt me so bad that I lost the baby and then they left me there for dead. The doctor said I should have died, but something kept me alive and when I was well enough I knew what that something was: rage!"

"Why?" Heyes choked out.

"Why what?"

"Why did Potter come to your ranch in the first place?"

"They rode in on horses that were nearly dead from being ridden hard and Potter demanded we exchange some of ours for theirs. Well, we'd invested a lot in good breeding stock and weren't about to just give them away for their scrubs! Mike refused and Potter shot him down right there in the yard!"

"Did you go to the sheriff?"

"Of course I did! Actually, he came to me while I was recovering and had me describe the men. When he took my descriptions and found out it was Luke Potter and some of his gang, he said he couldn't go after them because they were most likely back in New Mexico by then and he had no jurisdiction there. It turns out they had robbed a bank and were on the run from a posse which is why they needed fresh horses. I read up on them when I was well enough, about all the

horrible things they had done, and the law hadn't been able to track them down and bring them to justice! I knew then that if any justice was to be found for Mike and our baby, I was going to have to be the one to mete it out! I've got three so far and now I'm going to get Potter himself and then justice will have been served."

"Justice, or vengeance?"

"As far as I'm concerned it's the same thing! You can't understand since your life wasn't ripped apart like mine!"

The partners exchanged a long look and Heyes shook his head slightly 'no'. "You're probably right about that, Mick, and if we want to discuss it more later we can, but we'd better get out of this area before Potter shows up. The problem is where to go."

"That's no problem," Mick retorted. "I have a safe place in the hills."

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"Has been so far. It's an abandoned mine complete with a half-decent cabin. I have food stocked for an extended stay because I wasn't sure how long it would take to find Potter."

"How far?"

"About an hour."

"Better get a move on then," Curry put in. "That time might be double with your horse hurt. Y'up to ridin'?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope."

Again as a team Heyes and Curry broke camp. Within a half- hour the dishes had been cleaned and packed, bedrolls rolled neatly, and three horses saddled and ready to go. Unable to help, Mick had sat and watched in amazement as neither had needed to say a word to the other.

"Here's your horse, ma'-Mick," Curry said as he walked up, the courteous 'ma'am' almost slipping from his tongue.

"Oh, thank you, Thaddeus! How is he?" she exclaimed. The black horse nickered and lowered his head to blow warm air into her face and lip her hair affectionately.

"He's limpin' a mite, an' he'll have a scar, but he'll be just fine in a week or so. I cleaned it again and put some more salve on it this mornin'."

Mick climbed to her feet, more slowly this time, and although the dizziness was less severe Curry took her arm to steady her. She stepped close to the horse and eyed the red gash cut into the sleek black hide.

"They deserve killin' just for doing this to King," she growled with fire in her eyes. She gently touched the area near the wound and the muscles twitched as if to shoo a fly.

"King, huh? It suits him. He sure seems fond of you."

"He thinks I'm his mother. He was orphaned at birth and I fed him until he was weaned. He hasn't let anyone but me ever ride him. I'm so thankful he was out to pasture when Potter came. As it was they took four of our best and the others they turned out so the posse couldn't use them."

"Can I help you up?" the blond outlaw asked, sure she would refuse the offer and for a moment she did hesitate.

"Thanks, Thaddeus, I'd be obliged."

He cupped his hands where she put a booted foot and with a heave he lifted her high enough to throw her right leg over the back of the horse using only her right arm to help. He held the stirrup steady so she could put her foot in.

The jostling set her head to throbbing and a sharp pain to stab through her shoulder. She closed her eyes and drew in several deep breaths to regain her composure.

"You all right?" Concern clouded Curry's blue eyes.

"I'll be fine."

He handed up her hat and she settled it on her head carefully back from the bandage.

"We ready?" Heyes rode up with the Kid's horse in tow.

"Ready as we'll ever be," Curry replied.

"We'll take it slow so as not to hurt you too much, Mick. Let us know if you need to stop or anything; fallin' off ain't gonna do you much good."

Mick managed a tight-lipped nod and they set off. Heyes, solicitously keeping Mick close by, took the lead.

Curry, although behind, kept an alert eye open for any movement hostile or otherwise both to the front and to the rear. He also kept a slightly amused eye on his partner as he rode almost leg to leg with the girl gunslinger. And he calls me soft-hearted! he snorted to himself.

It was true, Curry had to admit, that he was quicker to go to another's aid, often dragging Heyes along against his partner's better judgement, just as he had done this time. Heyes, on the other hand, was more skeptical of others, less open, but once his interest had been peaked, or his heart touched, he was as fierce as a mother cougar defending her cub. Although his older friend would never admit it, he had a nurturing nature hidden beneath the cynical, world-wary exterior.

As Curry had said the night before it had been Heyes who had seen him through those years after their parents' deaths. Seen that he had had enough food, warm clothes and blankets, even if he'd had to steal them. Stayed close by and held his hand when the younger boy had been sick. Flung himself between Curry and an often -larger opponent. Never once had he complained, or said anything that had indicated the younger boy was a burden. If Curry had idolized the older boy as they had played around their farms, that feeling had only grown huge in the years following.

That had made it all the more devastating the morning he had woken up and found Heyes gone. What money he had had was left beside Curry's head with a note that simply said: Goodbye Jed, HH. His heart had plunged through his roiling stomach and into his toes, thudding frantically in panic.

He had sat frozen on his hard bed for a long time, his mind reeling, trying to absorb the fact that he was now alone. He hadn't chased after Heyes trying to find him as if it were just a prank - - he knew it wasn't, he knew his best friend was gone, and it was all his fault. He hadn't been good enough, strong enough, smart enough, to keep up with Heyes. He had been a burden, but Heyes had been too kind to say so.

He didn't know how long he had sat there, his mind churning, an empty ache in his heart, before a spark of anger ignited. Why hadn't Heyes talked to him? He could have explained how he felt - - Curry would have understood. How could he have just abandoned him like this after all they'd been through together? A coward! That's what Heyes was - - a coward! Curry nursed that tiny spark until it burst into a conflagration that burnt away the emptiness and gave him the energy to get up and move on.

He had squeezed all he could out of the twenty dollars Heyes had left him while searching for jobs. He had found them often because he was strong and a willing worker, but he had lost them just as often when the temper that his friend had been able to restrain burst out fed now by the fury burning inside him. He became solitary, trusting no one and making no friends, seeking no companionship beyond a poker game or a friendly saloon girl. And he honed his skill with his six gun, practicing relentlessly, obsessively, until it leapt into his hand almost without his thinking of it. This was something at which he was better than Heyes, always had been since his friend had been strangely reluctant about using a gun, becoming proficient because it was a skill one needed in the West just as a matter of survival.

He remembered clearly the first time he'd had to use his skill. It had been over a poker game, an irate loser accusing Curry of cheating. As the two had faced each other across the table, the other players scattering for safety, Curry had seemed to feel time slow down and an eerie silence surrounded him as his focus centered entirely on his opponent. He had stood relaxed, his arms at his sides, his eyes alert for the slight movement that would indicate his opponent was making his move. Curry's shot had hit the other man dead center in his chest before the other's pistol had even cleared leather. The roar of his gun had echoed in his ears as the dead man slowly slumped to the floor and with no change in his bland expression he had twirled his gun back into his holster, gathered up his winnings and strode out of the saloon without looking back.

He had waited in his room in the boarding house for the sheriff to come for him, but he hadn't. Curry had known it was self-defense, but hadn't been sure the sheriff would have seen it in the same light. He could have run, but it hadn't seemed worth the trouble - - let the sheriff arrest him, what did it matter anyway?

As he had waited, the scene in the saloon replayed over and over in his mind, the gunshot reverberating in his ears, the stunned look of surprise on the dead man's face burned indelibly into his brain. His body had burned all over with the enormity of what he had done - - a life snuffed out in the space of a heartbeat. Could he have done anything differently?

Was this what he wanted to be? What would Heyes think? Angrily he had squashed that last thought.

He hadn't even gotten out of town before he was next challenged; this time by someone just wanting to prove he was better. Curry was tying his bedroll onto the back of his saddle when he heard a man shout, "Hey, you, Kid!"

Curry had turned around, curious at who was being yelled at, and there in the middle of the street was a dandified older man glaring in his direction.

Surprised, Curry had said, "You talkin' to me?"

"Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, Kid. So you think you're good with that gun?"

The sneer in the other man's voice was clear and Curry had felt a flash of temper, but he bit back an angry response, saying only, "I've never said so."

"Well, that's the rumor, and I'm here to prove that no wet behind the ears boy is faster than Jake Jackson!"

Curry's eyes had widened for even he had heard of Jake Jackson's reputation as a fast gun. The stories said he had faced three men at the same time and shot all three before two could clear their holsters and before the third could get off a shot - - and all three had been drilled dead center!

"I ain't got a quarrel with you, Mr. Jackson."

"Well, I'm tellin' ya you've got one now! Now are you gonna face me like a man, or go crawlin' home to your mama?"

"I'll face you, but you're makin' a big mistake."

Hiding his trepidation behind his impassive mask, the younger gunslinger faced the older and time seemed to stop as they assessed each other. Then, with blinding speed, almost in unison, both drew but only one shot broke the silence and Jake Jackson's gun flew from his hand to land, ruined, in the dust of the street.

His pistol still smoking, Curry had stared at the older man, who nursed his stinging hand. With a nonchalant twirl, he replaced his gun in its holster and turned away. The buzz of the excited spectators filled his ears as he rode away.

"Did you see that?"

"That kid beat Jake Jackson!"

"Have you ever seen anyone draw that fast?"

"Ain't nobody gonna beat that kid!"

The next day's paper blared the news that "Kid" Curry had outdrawn the famous Jake Jackson! And so his fame had grown, but the notoriety had left him lonelier than before; his traitorous heart wondering if Heyes had seen the paper and if he thought Curry would be a burden now.

Now looking at the back of the Silver Kid, Curry knew just how she felt - - the emptiness with only the anger to fill it. The difference lay in the finality of her loss - - at least he had assumed that Heyes was alive somewhere. Yet he knew beyond a doubt that if Heyes were torn from him by the finality of death at another's hand, he, too, would hunt the killer down to the ends of the earth if necessary.

Heyes was totally unaware of his partner's melancholy thoughts immersed as he was in making sure Mick stayed on her horse. "Mick ..." he said. "Surely that's short for something."

"Micaela. My full name is Micaela Catherine Calahan. My mother insisted on naming me after her favorite brother, Michael, who joined the priesthood. My father started calling me Mick when I was just tiny and it stuck."

"I'm sorry about your family - - yellow fever is an ugly way to die."

"I should have been there, maybe I could have done something."

"What you would have done is die along with them. What good would that have done?"

"I know," she sighed. "I just feel so guilty sometimes to be alive, even more now with Mike gone."

"I understand," Heyes replied sympathetically.

"How could you?" Disbelief dripped from her voice.

Drawing a deep breath, Heyes softly said, "Thaddeus and I lost our parents, too. Quantrill's raiders. We were just kids. I've spent years agonizing about our surviving and I can tell you it doesn't do any good."

"That's horrible! How did you survive?"

"We weren't there. I'd convinced Thaddeus to ditch his chores to go fishing with me. We should have been there." The guilt of years echoed in his voice.

"What happened to you after?"

"We were put in a Home for Waywards - - not a very pleasant place. We ran away when I was fifteen and Thaddeus was thirteen. We've taken care of each other since then."

"How did you live - - I mean, what did you do?"

"Oh, this an' that," he hedged.

She rode in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry I accused you earlier of not understanding."

"Don't worry about it. You have every right to be angry about what happened to you."

"Do you think I'm wrong in what I'm doing?"

"It's not for me to judge, Mick; each person has to do what they believe is right."

"What would you do if Thaddeus were killed? Wouldn't you want to punish whoever had done it?"

"Don't think I haven't wondered about that myself, because I have more times than I care to count. Of course I'd want the person punished and as slowly and painfully as possible, but could I do it? Maybe- -probably - -I don't know - - I've never killed anyone before." He shrugged.

She looked at him incredulously. "You've never killed anyone?"

"Why is that so surprising? More people have not killed someone than have, I think - - outside of war that is. After seeing all the bloodshed of the war, and then seeing what happened to our parents, made me dislike using violence. I've always tried to find ways to solve a problem without resorting to it."

"There was no other way for me."

"There's always another way, you just have to look hard enough."

Her face hardened as she replied, "If you are ever in my position, I hope for your sake there is and that you can find it. For me, only their blood would satisfy the debt!"

She fell silent and so they rode on, the three with their own thoughts. Heyes casting a prayer to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that he would never be put in the position to find out just how far he could go if the deeply buried fury was ever released.

Chapter Two

After winding through the hills on narrow trails and barely visible tracks, the trio reached the mining claim Mick had told them about. A roughly cut hole shored up by equally rough timbers was evidence of a failed attempt at cashing in on the silver boom. A rudimentary, but serviceable cabin had been built up against the wall of the cliff. To the right of that was a corral for the animals and in between the two a well had been dug.

It had taken the better part of two and a half hours and the injured woman was sagging in her saddle with exhaustion when they arrived.

Heyes stepped down from his horse and reached up to help Mick down. As he set her on her feet her knees collapsed beneath her, the outlaw swept her into his arms ignoring her weak protests that she could walk by herself.

Pushing open the door with his shoulder, Heyes found himself inside a room that encompassed kitchen, bedroom, and iving room all in one space. A narrow bed occupied one corner against the back wall and to this he carried the fainting girl.

"Rest," he ordered. "I'll get the fire going and a meal started."

Too drained to argue, she drifted into a deep sleep.

Heyes lit the fire and rummaged through the stores of supplies and gathered together what was needed for a nourishing meal. By the time Curry came in from caring for the horses, he had a pot of stew simmering over the fire, coffee brewing, and dough mixed for biscuits.

He dropped three sets of saddlebags to the side of the door. "We've got our backs to the wall if Potter tracks us here, Joshua," he announced taking a seat at the table.

"We have plenty of supplies to wait him out if necessary."

"You plannin' on stayin' then?" He pulled out his gun, removed the cylinder and took out his gun oil and a clean cloth.

"We can't leave her in her condition, can we? What if Potter tracks us here? She'll be a sitting duck. In a few days, when she's up to caring for herself, we can leave."

"If Potter shows up?"

"Then we'll deal with 'im. He ain't got a quarrel with us after all. Coffee?"

At Curry's nod, Heyes poured two cups and slid one across to his partner.

They sipped in silence for a few moments looking into the flickering flames, and then Curry broached the subject he'd been thinking about all morning. "Heyes, if I ask you something, will you answer me honest?"

"What kind of a question is that, Kid? When have I ever lied to you?" The outlaw leader was offended.

"Never, but I don't want you to start now."

"Spit it out, Kid."

"Why did you leave me all those years ago?"

Heyes looked sharply at his long-time partner and saw the suppressed hurt of eight years that had darkened his blue eyes. His gaze dropped down to his cup as his tongue froze in his mouth and his brain scrambled for words.

"I know I was a burden to you, bein' younger and not much help an' all, but the least y'could've done is tell me to my face! It would still have hurt, but I would have understood."

"That wasn't it, Kid!" he protested.

"Then what? I think I deserve to know."

"It was because of a promise I made to my mother."

"You promised your mother to abandon me?"

"No, I promised her I would lead you right. After we'd both gotten beatings for some trouble that I'd led you into, I told her it wasn't fair since it had been my idea. She said that since you looked up to me it was my responsibility not to lead you into wrong actions."

"Okay, but you left, how was that leading me right?"

"Look at how we were livin', Kid, hand to mouth, rarely findin' anyone who would give us honest work, resortin' to stealin' what we could to survive! How was that leadin' you right?"

"You were tryin' to keep us alive, Heyes!"

"Yeah, but I was also startin' to enjoy it, the thrill of gettin' away with it. I had met Plummer and his boys and they had offered me a chance to ride with them. I couldn't keep my mother's promise and take you with me. I figured without me you might find honest work, or even a family to take you in - - you weren't too old and looked even younger. I thought I was givin' you a chance at a better life!" He turned the tin cup around in his lean fingers, his own pain apparent on his

face. "D'you know how hard it was, Kid? I wrote that note at least ten times and it never came out right, so in the end all I could think to say was 'good-bye'." He saw again the innocent, young face surrounded by tousled blond curls sleeping so peacefully as he set the note and the money beside it and felt again the wrenching pain knowing that he would probably never see his best friend again. Tears had sprung to his eyes that he had angrily dashed away for the millionth time

since they had been orphaned; he feared that if he gave in to them they would never stop and he would weaken and beg Jed to come with him. He had closed the door quietly behind him, never once looking back. "You were never a burden, Kid, never. You were all I had left of home, but I knew that it would have been selfish of me to drag you into a life of crime where you could at the least go to prison, and at the worst be killed, just to keep me from being lonely!"

They had never spoken of these things before - - of the three long, lonely years apart- - and now, they looked across the table at each other seeing their own pain reflected back in the other's eyes.

"When I read about "Kid" Curry in the paper, about how he'd killed a fellow in a saloon over cards, and then out-shot the infamous Jake Jackson that very same day, it felt like a knife in my heart! I recognized you from the description and I knew that your becoming a gunslinger was all my fault! In trying to keep my promise to my mother, I had actually failed to keep it, but it was too late by then to change anything. I was riding with Big Jim and I didn't even know where to start

looking for you - - the newspaper was months old by the time I read it. I was consumed with worry that the next time I read about "Kid" Curry it would be that you'd been gunned down by someone faster!"

Heyes stared into his now cold coffee and remembered the day he and the Kid had unexpectedly met each other again. The Devil's Hole Gang had come out to hoorah the tiny, lawless town of Eureka after being cooped up in the hideout for far too long. The boys were rowdy and drinking up a storm, their antics driving the good people to seek the safety of their homes, but there were plenty who welcomed the wild spending outlaws. He had usually held himself apart from the

wildest revels, preferring a relatively quiet game of poker.

This particular evening he had gone first to the General Store to see if he could pick up a new book to help pass the inactive days at Devil's Hole. He had been thumbing through one that looked like it might be interesting, though darned if he could remember the title now, when he heard shouts in the street of "Gunfight!" Shaking his head he had put down the book and moved to the door to see who had gotten himself into trouble this time, trouble with Big Jim, that is. Big Jim hated to have his men getting into gun battles when they were in town because there was nothing more sure to make them unwelcome another time.

"Don't it figure!" he had muttered to himself when he saw the first man in the street. Ben Slocum had the worst temper of all the Devil's Hole Gang and when you added in his speed on the draw it was a recipe for disaster. Turning to see who had aroused Ben's ire, Heyes had frozen in disbelief. Could it be?

He had grown quite a bit and filled out some, so he wasn't the scrawny kid he had last seen, but the golden curls were the same and the eyes as blue as a summer day, too. It was Jed Curry who stood facing Ben Slocum! His expression was bland, his stance relaxed, and his arms hanging loosely by his sides as he waited patiently for the older man to make the first move.

Heyes had felt as if a fist were squeezing his heart, his stomach churned and he had to labor for every breath. It was only the first of many such occasions through the succeeding years, and Heyes had always felt the same dreadful fear that this would be the last!

It had been over in a heartbeat, almost too fast for Heyes to see what had happened, Curry's gun seeming to leap into his hand of its own volition, the single shot reverberating in the still air and Slocum was on the ground holding on to his bleeding arm! The younger gunman had maintained his stance, keeping his smoking gun trained on the wounded outlaw in case he tried anything funny and when he had decided it was safe he had spun the gun several times before replacing

it in its holster.

Heyes hadn't known it but he had stepped out of the store and to the edge of the boardwalk, his eyes not daring to leave the figure of his friend for fear he would disappear. Seeming to sense he was being watched Curry had turned and their eyes had met and locked! The dark eyed outlaw had looked into the hard, cold blue ones of his friend and felt a shiver run up his spine - - this was not the gentle young man he had last seen; this was a gunman, a killer.

The icy blue eyes stared into his for a long silent moment, then they closed briefly and when they reopened the warmth of recognition lit them. A hesitant smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Han?"

"Jed!" Heyes had shouted and had run to throw his arms around his friend. "It's so good to see you!"

Before their greetings could go any further a bellow of "What's going on here?" caused them to turn.

Big Jim Santana stalked out into the street followed by those of the Devil's Hole Gang that weren't helping the injured man. His physical size was enough to intimidate most, but with the thunderous look of anger on his face even the most valiant heart would quake in fear.

"Hannibal, would you care to explain why one of my men is bleeding in the street?"

"I'm sure I ..." Heyes began only to be interrupted by Curry.

"He was bothering a lady and took exception to my pointing out that his attentions were unwelcome."

"She's a saloon girl!" A squeaky voiced fellow with a mouth full of chewing tobacco piped in.

Curry's eyes iced over and he growled, "She's deservin' of courtesy. You wanna pick up where your friend left off?"

"I'll settle this, Kyle!" Big Jim gestured the outlaw to back off.

Heyes had stepped in front of Curry and said, "Jim, this is my friend Jed Curry an' you'll hafta go through me first!"

"Hannibal, you know how I feel about my men!"

"Yeah, I do, Jim, but I feel just as strongly about Jed. You'll hafta kill me before you do anything to him!"

"Curry?" Kyle mused aloud; chewing over the name with a look on his face like thinking hurt him. His eyes opened wide as the name registered. "Kid Curry? Big Jim, you don't wanna fight him! He's faster'n anybody! They say he's killed ever' last man he's gone against without they's ever clearin' leather!"

"Really?" Big Jim looked skeptical. "Well, I am not frightened by rumors and dime novel stories! He will answer for wounding Slocum!"

"You might just consider Ben got what he deserved, Jim. You know how ugly he gets when he drinks." Heyes tried to placate the gang leader.

"Well, it is my job to discipline my men not some upstart gunslinger!"

"If you're gonna be stubborn about this, Jim, I guess you'n me'll hafta go our separate ways."

"You would leave the Devil's Hole Gang - - me - - for him?" Shocked disbelief had been apparent in Big Jim's voice and expression.

"Yes, I would, Jim. Jed's my partner - - always has been." Heyes had thrown his arm around Curry's shoulders and said, "C'mon, Jed, we've got some catchin' up to do."

They had returned to the saloon and Sherry, the girl Curry had defended, had gratefully served them their beers. They had spoken at length of their activities over their three year separation and had fallen into their easy association with only a short period of awkwardness, but neither of them had mentioned the day Heyes had left. For the past six years it had lain buried in their psyches, to be dragged into the light of day because of their encounter with the Silver Kid.

Heyes raised his dark eyes from his coffee cup; the agony laid bare in them. "That was the worst decision of my life, Kid, an' if I could take it back, I would. Maybe if we'd stuck together ..." he couldn't go on.

"Maybe we'd be right where we are now, Heyes," Curry finished for him. "What'd I tell you back in Silver City, huh? You're gonna make yourself crazy with what ifs! I ain't blamin' you, what's done is done. I just wanted to know why. Shoulda figgered you done it for me for some twisted reason!"

"Twisted?" his partner spluttered. "I'll have you know a great deal of thought went into that decision!"

"Well," Curry drawled. "I guess maybe your thinker wasn't quite mature back then!"

"Kid ..." Heyes began heatedly but bit back whatever he would have said when he saw the grin that split his friend's face from ear to ear.

"Mighty easy to rile there, Heyes!" Kid laughed.

Heyes' lips twitched into a hesitant smile. "I guess I deserved that, Kid. So, y'ain't mad at me?"

"Heyes, you're my partner, my best friend, the only family I got; I can't be mad at you - - although sometimes I get mad at you!"

"That don't make no sense whatsoever, Kid!" the other retorted. "But, thanks. I really missed you, you know."

"I know, Heyes, I did, too. Now can we eat? I'm starvin'!"

"So what else is new?"

Their easy camaraderie restored, the two outlaws ate in companionable silence.

Just as they were relaxing with another cup of coffee, the ominous click of a gun being cocked froze them in place.

"Keep your hands where I can see 'em!" came the command from the girl in the bed.

Curry shot his partner a disgusted look. "Didn't you relieve her of her gun, Joshua?"

"Didn't see why it was necessary, Thaddeus, I was sure we had put all this animosity behind us this morning!" Heyes shrugged. "Didn't we, Mick?"

"I been listenin' to you two talk - - you're outlaws!" exclaimed the girl.

"Yeah, so? What's your point?" Heyes tried to be nonchalant, but felt his heart sink. He and the Kid had made no secret of their names as they had talked, thinking she was safely asleep - - was she now interested in the twenty thousand on their heads?

"That puts you right in there with Potter!" she spat.

"Whoa, now! Just a minute!" Curry interjected hotly. "We may be outlaws, but we ain't nothin' like Potter!"

"An outlaw's an outlaw!"

"That just ain't so, Mick! Name one thing we've done that shows we're like him!" Heyes challenged her. When she remained silent, he continued. "Have we hurt you in any way? Molested you? Taken advantage of you? Have we done anything but help you?"

She stared at them uncertainly for a long moment before shaking her head mutely.

"Then how can you claim we're just like Potter and his bunch?"

"You're outlaws," she repeated stubbornly.

"Look, Mick," Heyes began and then sighed. "Can we put our hands down first and talk about this?"

"Go ahead," she agreed. "But don't try anything funny!"

"Believe me, there's nothin' funny about lookin' down the barrel of a gun, Mick!"

The two outlaws lowered their hands and Heyes turned in his chair to better see her. "Look, Mick, I understand you've been hurt, you've had about the most awful experience a body could have an' you have every right to hate them that done it, but y'just can't go extendin' that hate to just everybody!"

"Not everybody, just outlaws! If the law can't take care of them, somebody has to!"

Dark eyebrows rose. "You plan on takin' on all outlaws?"

"Maybe."

"Gonna be a bounty hunter, maybe?"

"Ain't claimed no bounties yet."

"So you're just gonna hunt outlaws for the good of mankind?"

"Maybe."

"I see you've put a lot of thought into this, Mick."

"I haven't thought of anything but killin' Potter and those others!"

"And you've done a mighty fine job of it so far. Can we agree, though, that Thaddeus and I had nothin' to do with it? That, in fact, we have gone out of our way to be your friends?"

"I guess so." Confusion and doubt began to war with her stubborn anger.

"Then can we agree that holdin' a gun on friends is not a friendly thing to do? How 'bout puttin' the gun away an' come eat some of this stew - - you'll feel better, if you're anythin' like Thaddeus, who gets mighty cranky on an empty stomach!"

Curry shot his partner a dirty look, but was relieved to see the pistol muzzle drop and then disappear completely into its holster.

Mick slumped and dropped her head into her hands. "I'm so confused!"

"That's cuz you've been listenin' to Joshua!" Curry snorted.

She suddenly looked up. "Wait a minute! I heard you call him 'Heyes' an' he called you 'Kid' when you thought I was sleepin'. Just what are your real names?"

"I'm Kid Curry an' he's Hannibal Heyes."

"I don't think - - oh, wait, I read an article about you two not too long ago! It said you used to be the best bank and train robbers in the West, but that you hadn't been heard from in some time. One rumor had it you were dead, another that you had gone straight!"

"Dead! You hear that, Kid? Dead! I'm tempted to rob a bank just to show 'em we're still alive!" Heyes spluttered indignantly.

"Now, Heyes, don't get proddy! Y'wanna be famous or get that amnesty?" Curry's blue eyes twinkled.

"Can't I have both?" The dark eyed outlaw pouted prettily.

"You're hopeless, Heyes! C'mon, Mick, the stew's gonna dry all up if'n you don't eat it soon! Can you make it by yourself?"

"I think so. I need to try anyway."

"Just take it slow an' easy."

She swung her legs off the bed and, using the wall as a support, stood. Finding that her head stayed clear she covered the short distance from the bed to the table and sat in the chair Curry held out for her. Heyes set a plate of steaming stew in front of her, along with a plate of biscuits and a cup of coffee.

"I'm so hungry!" she exclaimed, picking up the fork and digging in ravenously.

The boys watched in awe as she polished off the food. "That's the best stew I've had in a long time!" she exclaimed.

"I'm beginning to wonder about your taste buds, Mick," Curry said shaking his head. "First you like Heyes' coffee and now his stew."

"Maybe I was just hungry. Is there more?"

"Plenty," Heyes replied refilling her plate. "Don't you eat regular?"

She shrugged, her mouth full. She took a swallow of coffee and said, "Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I just don't think food is important enough to cook, so I eat jerky, or a can of something. Sometimes I just feel too sick to eat."

Remembering what they had witnessed after the shooting, the two outlaws understood.

"The paper said you're the fastest gun in the West, Mr. Curry," she commented as she wiped the last of the gravy from her plate with a piece of biscuit.

"Just call me Kid an' he's Heyes. As to bein' the fastest gun in the West, well, I don't know 'bout that. All I know is I ain't been beat yet!"

"Don't let his modesty fool you, Mick, he's fast!" Heyes boasted proudly of his friend.

"You ain't too shabby yourself, Mick. How did you learn? I mean it seems a bit off the path for, well, for what y'did before." Curry asked awkwardly.

"I taught myself to draw - - I had known how to shoot since I was a kid. I practiced hours every day for a year before I figured I was good enough. Wasn't sure, though, 'til I met up with Charlie Watson!" Her eyes darkened with the memory.

"I'll never forget that day as long as I live! I was so scared, but when I saw him laying there in the dirt, spillin' his blood just like he'd spilled my Mike's - - when I saw him draw his last breath knowin' who it was who'd killed him, I felt a measure of satisfaction. That satisfaction won't be complete until Potter himself dies!"

Heyes shot a glance at Curry and saw his partner's face etched with an expression unreadable even to the one who knew him best in the world. "So, Mick, how did you come to this decision exactly - - I mean the whole dressing as a man and everything."

Some of the darkness left her eyes as she recalled:

"I was hurt real bad - - the doc said I nearly died - - and then I was in shock for the longest time trying to come to terms with what happened. I'd missed the funerals for Mike and the baby and that hurt like hell, too, so I just laid around listlessly, hopelessly, for the longest time. The sheriff had said he couldn't do anything so what was I going to be able to do? As I lay there thinking, day after day, I soon came to realize that if any justice was to be found it would have to be

through me and then I started planning. I knew, though, that I wouldn't have a chance at getting close to Potter and his men as a woman, except in a way I wasn't willing to go, so I decided to become a man.

"I put a trusted neighbor in charge of selling my ranch and all the rest of the livestock, except for King, and he got me a good price for it all. Then I told everyone that I was moving back East with a maiden aunt, but really I just got on King and rode away one night. When I made camp, I cut my hair and burned it in the fire so there'd be no evidence. "Along the road, at each little town, I bought a piece of clothing or equipment, not everything in one place so as to raise

questions. When I'd gathered everything, I found a tiny shack, a lot like this one, where I took up residence and began my training. When I figured I was ready, I started the hunt."

"One thing I've been wonderin', Mick," Curry said when she stopped her narration. "Why all the fancy ornaments an' such?"

"Distraction, Kid. I figured people would notice the flashy stuff and pay less attention to me, so I would have a better chance of pulling of the disguise. It's worked so far, that and not letting anyone get too close for too long."

"Good plan, Mick, although a million things could have gone wrong," Heyes applauded.

"You should know, Heyes," Curry grinned. "How many of your plans had to be suddenly changed right in the middle of pullin' a job?"

"That's why there's always a contingency plan, Kid."

"A what?"

"An back up plan for emergencies an' such."

"Oh, right. As I recall you'd be scramblin' to come up with that contingency plan just as everythin' was blowin' up in our faces!" Curry's grin grew wider.

"Got us out, didn't I?" Heyes arched his brows at his partner.

"Yeah, Heyes, y'did, though it was nip an' tuck sometimes!"

Mick stared at them in disbelief. "You two sound like being outlaws is fun!"

"Well, it did have its moments, didn't it, Kid?" Heyes' eyes sparkled as his dimpled grin flashed.

"You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself, Heyes!" Curry snorted in reply.

"If it was so great, why are you going straight?"

"We decided there was probably more to life than runnin' from posses," the dark haired outlaw replied.

"Yeah, like life!" the blond retorted. "Dodgin' bullets ain't what I consider fun, an' those posses were gettin' to be better shots!"

"So what are you going to do instead of robbing banks and trains?"

"We're settin' up a horse ranch in Colorado. We're workin' on raisin' the stake right now," Heyes explained.

"Really?" Her eyes lit up with interest.

"Yup. Dull old ranchers, that's what me an' Heyes are gonna be!"

"What are you gonna do when you're done gettin' your revenge?" Heyes probed.

The light in her eyes went out and she frowned. "I don't know, I haven't thought that far ahead. Really, I didn't think I'd survive it and so it wasn't a concern. I still might not. My life has changed so much - - I don't know what's out there for me now! I can't worry about that now, though, I just have to worry about killin' Potter! The fact is, nothin' matters after that - - there's no reason for me to live!"

"Now, Mick ...!" Heyes started to protest only to have her cut him off.

"You know, I'm still really tired. I think I'll sleep some more, if you don't mind."

"No, of course not! Rest is what you need!"

Both men stood up and Curry pulled her chair back. "Good night, Mick," he said.

"Good night, Kid, Heyes."

Heyes caught his partner's eye with a serious look that spoke volumes to the other. Curry shook his head sadly in response.

"Let's go make sure everything's secure outside, Kid," Heyes said as the girl gunfighter lay down and turned her back to them after first unbuckling her gunbelt and hanging it close at hand.

It was still afternoon, but the high cliffs had blocked the sun and brought early shadows to their hideout. Curry knew the animals were secure since he'd done it himself, but he also knew his partner had something on his mind. It wasn't until they were leaning against the rails of the corral that Heyes spoke.

"Y'ever known anyone so angry an' hopeless, Kid?"

"Y'mean besides me ten years ago? Nope, don't think I have."

"Is that how you felt?"

"Pretty much. After you left, I couldn't see much point to livin'. Before, we had each other and stayin' alive, helpin' each other survive was purpose enough. Without my family, without you, all alone in the world, well, I started thinkin' 'what for?' I knew I could die anytime I faced a man, an' I just didn't care. Maybe I even wished for it, I don't know."

"Kid, if I'd've known that I never would've gone!" Heyes turned to his partner and his dark, expressive eyes were wide with the realization of how much he'd unintentionally hurt his best friend.

"Let it go, Heyes, it's over."

"Not for Mick." Heyes turned back to watching the horses.

"I thought we were just gettin' her somewhere safe, Heyes - - you didn't want to get involved, remember?"

"Potter's gonna kill her, Kid! Can we just ride away knowin' that?"

"She's got a chance - - she's pretty fast."

"If he's got the guts to face her one on one! He's already proved he's a bushwhackin' snake!"

"She's done a good job of getting' the others alone. She's not just blunderin' into things - - she does her plannin', like you've always done. Give her some credit, Heyes."

"I do, Kid. She's bright, courageous, an' that's all goin' t'waste on this vengeance trail she's on! She don't even know what she's gonna do after!"

"That ain't your responsibility! That's always been a problem of yours, Heyes, even when you was runnin' the Devil's Hole Gang - - you always took too much responsibility!"

"I was the leader, Kid, it was my job to take responsibility!"

"Not for other people's mistakes! If one of the boys screwed up an' got hurt, you took the blame. If the job went wrong cuz of somebody else's mistake, you took the blame! It plumb wore y'right out! Now whatever happens to Mick ain't your responsibility!"

"Wasn't it you who wanted to help her, Kid?"

"Yeah, but I was just gonna correct that little flaw in her draw - - not adopt her"

"You sayin' we should just ride away?"

"Not first thing in the mornin', but when she's well enough to take care of herself, yeah. She ain't a kid an' like she said, she don't need babysitters!"

Heyes turned and cast his keen eyes from the crown of Curry's hat to the tip of his boots, then looked down at himself, removing his hat and examining it curiously.

Curry stared at his friend in puzzlement. "What're you doin'?"

"Just makin' sure you're you an' I'm me cuz the way we're talkin' it sure don't seem so!"

Curry laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "C'mon. Heyes, it's been a long day! You get some rest an' you'll be seein' the world in your old cynical way tomorrow!"

"Thanks, Kid, you're a big help!" the other replied sarcastically.

"That's what I'm here for!"

The two returned to the shack and set about making pallets for themselves near the smoldering embers of the fire.

A ray of sunlight through a crack shone in Kid's eyes and for once woke him before anyone else. On cat feet he rose and stirred the fire to life, adding new logs. He put a pot of coffee on to boil and rummaged about the shelves for breakfast fixings.

He mixed dough for biscuits, then cut slices of bacon which he set to frying. In a box filled with straw he found eggs.

"What got into you, Kid?" a sleepy-eyed Heyes queried, running lean fingers through tousled brown hair.

"Sun in my eyes," the other grunted. "Coffee's ready."

"Good." Heyes pulled on his boots and rolled up his blankets, setting them neatly aside in a corner. Pouring himself a cup, he glanced over at the bed where Mick had sat up. "Mornin', Mick, how do you feel today?"

"Better, thanks," she replied. "Shoulder's pretty stiff, but less sore."

"Come try my coffee, Mick," Curry invited. "Let's see if those tastebuds of yours are working."

Following Heyes' lead, she stamped into her boots and joined the two men at the table. Curry poured her a cup of coffee, waiting while she blew on it and took a tentative sip, then another.

"Well?" he demanded impatiently.

"It's good," she replied. "But so is Heyes'"

Curry rolled his eyes in disgust and disbelief and turned back to his cooking.

Heyes' lips twitched as he tried to control his laughter. "Kid likes to win - - he's very competitive!"

"Well, if it's a contest then I make the next pot," she declared. "I'll bet mine is the best of all!"

"You're on!" The gambler in Heyes couldn't resist a bet.

Curry laid plates of bacon, eggs, and biscuits on the table and the three dug in.

"This is really good, Kid! How did you learn to cook so well?" Her praise was apparently real as she ate with gusto.

"When y'gotta eat your own cookin' on the trail all the time, y'learn out of pure desperation! Heyes an' me have eaten jerky an' cold beans enough to appreciate a good meal."

"Especially the Kid!" Heyes teased.

"Well, a body's gotta keep his strength up!" Curry retorted in his own defense.

In record time the plates were emptied of every crumb and coffee cups were refilled. After several minutes of contented silence, Curry said, "You know, Mick, Potter's the fastest gun of his gang - - he has to be to keep control of his men."

"Does that mean Heyes was fastest of the Devil's Hole Gang?" she asked mischievously.

"No," Heyes grinned. "I had the Kid for that!"

"My point is," Curry interjected seriously. "I know you're pretty fast, but maybe not enough to beat Potter. I was wonderin' if you'd care for a few pointers."

"From you, Kid?" she exclaimed incredulously. "I'd be honored!"

"Well, I don't know how much of any honor it is, but I might be able to help you shave off a second or two an' that might be just the edge you need." Curry explained modestly.

"Can we start now?"

The outlaws exchanged amused glances at her excitement.

"We should probably clean up the dishes first," Curry teased.

"Oh, you know I mean today!"

"Are you sure you feel up to it?"

"You two can't stay with me forever - - I'm sure you have things of your own to do - - so best get started!"

"Let's get this cleaned up then! I, for one, need a shave, too!"

"I guess I ought to clean up and put on an unbloody shirt!" Mick agreed.

It wasn't long before they were ready to begin.

"First thing I want you to do is empty your gun," Curry instructed.

"Why?" Mick asked with a frown.

"Two reasons. One, we don't want any shots to alert possible hostile listeners, besides we're just practicin' your draw - - we already know you can hit your target!" the blond gunslinger explained.

"That makes sense. And the other reason?"

"The second is the most important: I don't want you to accidentally shoot Heyes, or me!"

"What?" the other two exclaimed in unison.

"Why should that be a concern, Kid?" Heyes demanded to know. "Just what have you got in mind?"

"I want you two to face each other and draw - - that way you can both see what it is that you're doing - - then I can show you both how to fix it."

"I don't need to draw any faster, Kid!" Heyes protested. "I've got you!"

"It won't hurt you, Heyes. You do have a habit of getting into trouble when I'm not around, you know!"

"Is he going to take the bullets out of his gun?" Mick demanded in her turn.

"No."

"Why not?" She frowned.

"Because Heyes an' I are used to drawin' an' not firin' - - I know he won't slip up!"

"Doesn't seem particularly fair to me."

"Fair doesn't play into this at all! We could all empty our guns, but then what would happen if Potter an' his gang show up?"

"Fine," she growled.

Curry shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Can we get started?"

Mick emptied the six bullets out of her chambers and left them on the small table, then the three moved outside into the early morning sunshine. Some of the night's chill remained but it was heating up quickly.

A little ways away from the shack Curry stopped and said, "This is good enough. Now turn and face each other. On my signal you'll both draw."

Even knowing her gun was empty, Heyes felt a shiver down his spine as he faced Mick, whose grey eyes had gone the cold flat color of iron. She wore the same inscrutable expression he had seen too many times on Curry's face. An unnatural hush seemed to settle over the trio as he flexed his fingers and shrugged his shoulder slightly to loosen it.

"Ready?" Curry called. Then, "Draw!"

Like mirror images the two drew in unison, one loud click on an empty chamber punctuating the action.

"That's why I had you empty your gun, Mick!" Curry exclaimed as two pistols were holstered. "You been practicin', Heyes? You drew as fast as she did!"

The other outlaw shook his head. "Just extra motivation, I guess. That is not a position I'd choose to put myself in!"

"Most people don't choose to." Curry turned to Mick. "Did you see what Heyes did when he drew - - that slight twist to the left?"

"I'm afraid I was a little preoccupied," she confessed.

"Did you, Heyes?"

"'Fraid not, Kid."

Curry sighed. "Okay, we'll do it one at a time. Heyes, face her again and draw just like you did."

Obliging his partner, but feeling a bit silly, Heyes drew.

"Oh, yeah, now I see it!" Mick exclaimed. "I do that, too?"

"Yup. Now you draw so Heyes can see it, too."

"I don't see the problem with that," Heyes commented after Mick had done her demonstration.

"The problem is it adds probably a full second to your draw - - a second that could mean the difference between living and dying!" Curry explained emphatically.

"But I'm not a gunfighter!"

"You never know what the future holds. Now both of you watch me."

Curry took a cleansing breath and settled into his stance. In the blink of an eye his gun had left its holster and was now pointed at the space between the two students.

"Whoa!" Mick exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief. "That was faster than anything I 've ever seen before! No wonder they call you the fastest gun in the West! How do you do it?"

"Yeah, Kid, slow it down so we can actually see it!" Heyes drawled wryly, yet quietly proud of his partner.

"I'll try."

Curry repeated his draw several times as slowly as he could, his pupils studying his movements, although Mick more avidly than Heyes.

"I think I've got it," she said finally. "Watch." She drew under Curry's critical eye and then asked, "How was that?"

"Much better," he said approvingly. "Now try to make the movement smoother - - like the gun is an extension of our arm - - like this." He drew again and she nodded.

"Okay, I think I've got it."

She practiced several more draws under his watchful eye and he finally said, "Good, you keep practicin' an' I think you'll be ready for Potter, or anyone else for that matter."

"For you?"

Curry turned his icy gaze on her and Heyes' face hardened. "You plannin' on gunnin' for me when you're finished with Potter? You gettin' a taste for killin', Mick?"

Suddenly faced with two hardened outlaws instead of the affable young men who had been helping her, Mick felt her heart begin to race.

"No!" she hurried to assure them. "Nothing like that! I just wondered if I could ever be as good as you, Kid!"

"Well, it don't really matter if'n you're plannin' to leave off killin' when your debt is paid off, now does it?" Neither outlaw's stance softened.

Eyes hardening to match the two who faced her, she glared defiantly. "I told you I don't know what I'm gonna do after, an' it ain't any of your business anyway! I'm obliged to you boys, an' I wouldn't do anything against you - - you can be sure of that much at least!"

Heyes and Curry exchanged a long look, then reaching a silent agreement, Curry said, "We'll just have to trust you on that, I guess. You keep practicin' - - don't get overtired, though."

"I won't."

Leaving her intent on her practice, the two former outlaws were silent until well out of earshot, then Heyes sighed, "You may be right, Kid. Maybe it's best we leave her now to sort out her own problems. I don't like the way she was lookin' at you with that gleam in her eyes!"

"You don't think we can trust her?"

"I don't know, Kid. But I am thinkin' she may be a lost cause!"

Curry stopped and turned to his partner. "Did you ever think I was a lost cause?"

Heyes stared deeply into the younger man's blue eyes before answering seriously, "Yeah, Kid, I did."

"You did? Why?" Curry could hardly believe his ears.

"Big Jim wasn't too happy allowing you into the gang, remember?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about gunfighters bringin' nothin' but trouble."

"Uh huh, an' for a while there he was right. You were walkin' around with a huge chip on your shoulder just waitin' for somebody to try and knock it off! Which, of course, every one of the gang who thought he was pretty fast tried to do an' you jumped for the bait every time! Fortunately you didn't kill anyone, or nothin' I could've said would've stopped Jim from at least throwing you out of the Hole. Still he got pretty angry about the number of his men walkin' around with slings an'

unable to pull their weight on a job! He told me that if I couldn't manage to settle you down you'd have to leave even if it was in a pine box! I promised Jim I'd take responsibility for you and whatever you did and it wasn't an easy job, let me tell you!" Heyes shook his dark head at the memory.

"There you go takin' responsibility that wasn't yours, Heyes!" Curry exclaimed in disgust. "I was a man grown an' fully able to take responsibility for myself!"

"I know that, Kid, knew it then, too, but havin' lost you once because of my own stupidity, I wasn't gonna let you go again without a fight!"

"What changed your opinion that I was a lost cause then, Heyes?"

"You started listenin' to me!" He grinned impishly at his friend.

"Oh, that was all it took, huh?"

"All? Y'think it was easy? D'you remember in Porterville when Lom was off arranging our amnesty? In the saloon, no gun, facin' down that troublemakin' cowboy? That's what I had to deal with - - you seemed bound and determined to live up to your reputation!"

"So what makes you think Mick is a lost cause? I came around, didn't I?" Curry wanted to know.

"You had me, Kid; she's got nobody and I'm afraid her hate is gonna eat her up! A couple of times I've seen a spark of excitement in her eyes and I think maybe she's coming around, but then the anger and hate come back and she's gone again! I don't think even killin' Potter will quench that hatred!"

They stopped and turned to watch the gunslinger single-mindedly practicing her draw. "You'll think of something, Heyes," the other gunslinger said confidently. "You always do."

Heyes sighed. "Someday you may put too much confidence in me, Kid."

Curry just snorted his disbelief.

Mick didn't return to the shack until lunchtime. She ate the simple meal in silence and then announced her intention to sleep.

Noting her pale face and pinched lips, Heyes said, "I should first check your wounds and change the bandages."

Still silent, she nodded her acquiescence and sat on the edge of the bed to allow him to work.

First he unwound the dressing from the graze on her forehead. "This is healing well," he asserted examining the scabbed gouge. "I think it can be left uncovered now. Let me see the shoulder now."

She unbuttoned her shirt and allowed it to drop around her waist, not even blushing this time. She kept her eyes straight ahead while he bared the bullet hole.

"How is it feeling?" he asked. Although still livid, the wound showed no signs of infection. Blood spots on the gauze pad and some fresh scabbing told him her exertions of the day had, at some time, broken it open.

"Sore," she replied shortly.

"I'm sure it's more than sore," he contradicted her. "You've overdone it for your first day up. I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day - - no more practicin', there'll be time for that tomorrow. All right?"

She frowned, but nodded her agreement. After Heyes had put a fresh pad and rewrapped the wound, she replaced her shirt and rolled into her blankets.

Standing, the former outlaw looked down at her and sighed again. He retreated to a chair by the fire and stared into the flames while seriously considering the girl's situation and possible future.

Curry, long familiar with his partner's problem solving mode, maintained his own silence to allow Heyes' genius to work. He knew that if given enough time the other man could work out a solution to any problem. The question was, would there be enough time?

Breakfast the next morning was a silent affair. Heyes was still distracted with his scheming and Mick, though less sullen looking, was uninclined to conversation. Curry, who was naturally taciturn and often complained about his friend's garrulousness, actually found himself wishing for some chatter to break the strained silence.

His wish seemed doomed to remain unfulfilled until Mick raised her eyes from examining her coffee and said, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I had no call to bait you like that! You didn't have to help me and you did and that was a poor way of showing my gratitude."

"Don't fret, Mick, we didn't take offense," Curry assured her. "How are you feelin' today?"

"Much better. You two can go about your business - - I'm sure I can take care of myself now."

"Are you tired of us already, Mick?" Curry grinned.

"No, it's not that. You've gone out of your way for me enough is all."

"Well, we'll see what Heyes has to say when he's done with his thinkin'"

"What's he thinking about?"

"Oh, this 'n' that," Curry hedged. "How 'bout we give him some quiet an' go feed the horses?"

"Good idea, I've been neglecting King lately."

"Could be you've been otherwise occupied. Don't worry; I've been taking good care of him. He's a fine animal."

"He was to be the foundation of our herd ..." she stopped, her eyes clouding. She shook her head and continued. "C'mon, let's go."

"Heyes, we're goin' out to feed the horses," Curry informed his friend.

"Huh? Oh, sure, okay, Kid," the dark eyes lifted distractedly.

"Does he get like this often?" Mick queried curiously, tossing a last look over her shoulder at the outlaw leader.

"Oh, this is nothin'! Sometimes there's no livin' with the man when he's schemin'! Most times he'd be wearin' a rut in the floor with his pacin'! An' don't ever get locked in a jail cell with 'im - - he'll drive you crazy!" Curry shook his head indulgently.

"You mean you've been caught and locked up and you're still running around free? How's that happen?"

The blue eyes twinkled. "Ain't a lock made that Heyes can't pick! Keepin' him caged is like holdin' water in your hands!"

By this time they had reached the small corral and the big black stallion, scenting his mistress, bugled happily and raced to the railing where he snuffled her hair and nudged her with his head.

Mick laughed and stoked the silky nose. "Sorry, boy, I don't have any treats for you today! When we get back to town, I'll buy you a whole bag of carrots and apples!"

Curry patted the horse's muscular neck. "His limp's hardly noticeable; unfortunately, he'll have an ugly scar."

"Scarred but alive I can deal with." She ducked between the rails to examine the scabbed gash on the horse's shoulder. "It's healing well. What did you put on it?"

"Same stuff Heyes used on you. It's a salve made with some kinds of herbs an' such - - beats me - - some old Irish remedy. Works wonders, though."

"I'll say. Maybe you can get me the recipe."

"Maybe."

She walked slowly around the animal, her hand never leaving its shiny hide, examining every inch of him. "Thanks for taking such good care of him, Kid," she said as she came up beside Curry.

"It was no trouble," he began only to be cut off by a bullet striking the upper rail and sending splinters of wood into the air, the rifle report echoing in the enclosed area. The horses squealed in panic and raced to the far side of the corral.

Reacting instantly, Curry pushed her behind him, his gun already in his hand. "Get down behind the trough, quick!" He fired two quick shots then dived after her into the meager protection of the wooden water container.

Hearing the shots, Heyes leapt to the door, pistol in hand. Ruthlessly crushing the mindless fear of what he would see, he scanned the ground between the shack and the corral. Seeing no bodies, he called out, "Kid? You two okay?"

"Yeah," came the short reply.

Relief ran like the warmth of good whiskey through his veins and his heart returned to its normal rhythm. "Reckon that's Potter?"

"I reckon so."

"Got any ideas?"

"Thought you was the idea man, Heyes," Curry teased, but continued, "Just so happens I do. Back me up."

"As always, Kid."

Curry turned to look at Mick crouched behind him, her gun at the ready. "Keep down, okay? Potter would like nothin' better than to pick you off like this!"

"What're you gonna do?" she whispered urgently.

"You'll see."

Cautiously, Curry raised his head slightly over the edge of the trough and yelled with his full strength, "Luke Potter? That you?"

Moments later a faint voice replied, "Who's askin'?"

"Kid Curry! What're you doin' shootin' at me?"

"Kid Curry? Hannibal Heyes with you?"

"Yeah, but y'ain't answered my question! Since when did you have a bone to pick with me?"

"Ain't you I got a problem with!"

"That so? Then why don't you come down here so we can talk this over? This yellin' ain't no good!"

"How do I know you won't just gun me down?"

Curry snorted in disgust. "'Cause I ain't you, Potter!"

There was a long silence, so long in fact that Curry began to wonder if they hadn't ridden away. "You still there, Potter?"

"Yeah, I'm here!"

"Well, make up your mind, will ya? My legs are goin' t'sleep down here!"

"All right, I'm comin', but my men'll be coverin' me!"

"Fair enough, long as they know you're as good as dead if anybody gets trigger happy!"

Curry looked over his shoulder at the gunfighter behind him. "Are you ready to face him, Mick?"

Though her face was pale, making the livid gash on her forehead even more distinct, she displayed no sign of fear. Her pistol was gripped in a steady hand and her body was tensed for action. Tight-lipped, she nodded. "Oh, I'm ready, Kid. I've been ready for over a year - - now I'm sure I'm able thanks to you."

"Don't thank me yet."

"Kid?" Heyes called. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"Nope. Only thing I could think of at the time."

"Ah! I feel so much better now!" the other replied.

"Just cover me, Heyes."

"And if they just gun you down?"

"Make sure Potter dies right after me."

"No problem and, Kid, next time leave the thinkin' to me, okay?"

Even with just the tone of his partner's voice, Curry could envision the wry look and weary shake of the dark head. He grinned to himself in spite of the situation.

A cloud of dust and the distant sounds of hoofbeats announced the arrival of Potter. Curry stood. "Stay put, Mick."

"I'm not gonna hide here like I'm afraid of him!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"No one thinks you're scared, Mick, but it don't make sense to make a target of yourself until I've settled the arrangements with Potter."

"Arrangements?"

"You wanna face 'im, I'm gonna arrange it. First I'm gonna settle that it ends here, so you just stay out of sight for now, okay?"

"Okay, Kid."

Curry ducked through the corral railings again and walked confidently into the open, his blue eyes alert for any indications of treachery. Catching sight of Heyes in the shadows of the doorway, he nodded slightly and his partner saluted him grimly with his pistol. Taking a stance in front of the shack, the gunslinger waited.

Potter reined in several yards from Curry and glared down from the horse. "So what've we got ta talk 'bout, Curry?" he growled from beneath a dirty, used to be gray hat.

"Step down, Potter, an' I'll tell you," Curry replied calmly.

Warily the outlaw swung down from the saddle.

"Fine animal y'got there, Potter," Curry commented, eyeing the fine lines of the bay mare.

"Y'didn't bring me down here t'talk horses, Curry! That fancy-dressed kid yer harborin' here killed two of my men an' threatened t'kill me, too! Now, I ain't got no problem with you an' Heyes, but if'n y'get in my way, I'll hafta take you down, too!"

Blue eyes narrowed, Curry replied, "The way I hear it, you got it comin', Potter - - you an' your boys killed his family - - an' he plain outdrew your boys in fair fights, not bushwhackin' 'em!"

Curry had run into Luke Potter once many years before and hadn't liked the looks of him then - - now found his opinion unchanged. Physically, the outlaw was formidable, having five inches and at least fifty pounds on Curry, much of it carried in his barrel chest. Beneath the filthy hat lay matted black curls and his almost yellow eyes glared from the shade of the hat brim like a wolf's. A bushy moustache drooped over flabby sullen lips that were currently curled in a sneer. His

clothes were sweat stained and dusty, but the sixgun on his hip was clean and cared for, the holster and belt well-worn, but serviceable.

"What's it to you?" the outlaw snarled.

"Heyes an' me found the kid bleedin' an' left for dead on the trail two days ago an' patched him up. Now we don't figure to see all our work go for nothin' without a fair chance."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Just this: you want to kill him, he wants to kill you, fine, do it right here, one on one, fair fight!"

"Why should I?" Potter demanded belligerently.

"Because you don't want to have a problem with me. What's your worry? I've heard you're pretty good with your gun. He's just a kid - - what're you scared of?"

"I ain't scared!" the other blustered.

"Then go get your men, be back here in an hour, and we'll settle this before lunch."

"Why not now? Why do I need my men?"

"I want them to witness that it's a fair fight. I want this settled for good an' all today!"

"Alright, we'll do it your way, Curry - - we'll be back in an hour." Potter remounted and spurred the horse into a gallop.

As the dust settled, Heyes stepped out of the shadows, holstering his gun. "Couldn't have done better myself, Kid," he said in approval. "Why not more time, though?"

"Potter's a coward - - I don't want to give 'im time t'back out. This is your chance to end it, Mick," he said to the girl as she joined them. "Y'sure you're ready?"

"You're sure this is what you want, Mick?" Heyes asked.

"I'm sure, Heyes - - the only thing I've wanted more was ripped away from me! I'm ready!" Her face was a hard mask of cold anger and determination.

"Let's go inside just in case Potter changes his mind," the outlaw leader urged.

The dimness of the shack was a welcome relief from the rising heat outside.

"Shall I make a fresh pot of coffee?" Mick offered. "I believe it's my turn."

"That would be good," Heyes agreed. "Then sit down so I can lay out a proposition for you."

While Mick bustled about with the preparations, Curry quirked his eyebrow at his partner, who responded with a slight nod that conveyed a wealth of meaning.

In a very short time steaming cups of coffee were placed in front of the boys and Mick sat down with her own. Carefully blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip, both sighed and said, "Real good, Mick! What's your secret?"

"Don't boil it too long, or it'll become bitter - - that's people's most common mistake," she explained. "And one spoonful of grounds per cup is enough."

"Remember that, Heyes," Curry admonished.

"I'll do my best."

"What is this proposition you have for me?"

"Well, you said you didn't know what you were going to do after Potter; I want to give you an option," Heyes began.

"Go on," Mick said warily.

"Kid an' I told you about the horse ranch we're startin' up in Colorado, right?"

"Right."

"Well, we'd like to offer you a partnership in it. You know horses; you have a good stud there and part of what we're doin' out here is lookin' for a few good animals. How 'bout it?"

Mick's eyes had widened as Heyes laid out his idea and by the time he finished they brimmed with tears. Angrily, she blinked them away. "You're not serious!"

"Oh, but I am. I would never joke about a thing like that."

She sat silently for a long moment, a light of hope sparking in her eyes, then, even as the boys watched, it dimmed and they became hard as flint, her lips thinning sternly. "I can't think about that, or anything, now - - only about the task ahead! There is no future until the past has been cleansed and maybe not even then! Excuse me." She stood and stepped back outside, but not away from the protection of the shack. She sat on a small stool beside the door and

proceeded to thoroughly clean her gun.

Heyes sighed and Curry looked over at him. "She's right, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"She needs all her focus on what she's got to do - - any other thoughts could be a fatal distraction."

"I guess you'd know."

"Let me put it in a way you can understand, Heyes: what do you think about when you're crackin' the safe on a train we've just stopped? Y'know a posse's comin', the passengers are frightened, and the boys are nervous. What's on your mind?"

Heyes didn't even hesitate before answering, "Only thing on my mind is opening the safe!" His eyes closed to just slits and a smile played about his lips as he remembered. "It's like I step out of the world and into another one where there's only me and the safe - - the only sound the clicking of the tumblers as they give up their secrets! And when that last tumbler falls into place I feel - - well, I can't hardly describe how I feel!"

"That's exactly the place she needs to find right now, Heyes. When she steps out there to meet Potter, her whole focus will narrow down to him and her. Time will stop, or seem to, until the fatal moment when either he, or she, dies." Curry's face was somber as he spoke.

"That's what it's like for you, too?"

The gunslinger only nodded, his blue eyes clouded with the memories of all the times he'd been in Mick's position.

"Kid ..." Heyes groaned but couldn't continue. Instead he leaned his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. Raising his head, he ran his hands back through his hair and with a determined set to his chin said, "So what do we do?"

"Give her space. That's all."

Watching through the door, the former outlaws could now see her practicing her draw. "She's improved already," Curry commented.

"What're her chances - - really."

The gunman pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'd give her sixty/forty odds."

"That's all?"

"You'd take a bet with those odds, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't be bettin' my life!"

The minutes of waiting seemed like hours to Heyes, who paced the floor unceasingly while Curry calmly cleaned his gun.

"Wearin' a hole in the floor ain't gonna help any, Heyes," he said with a sympathetic grin.

"It helps me," the other retorted. "Sittin' makes me fidgety!"

"Oh, well, we can't have a fidgety Heyes now can we!" snorted his partner.

"I've never been able to understand how you could sleep when we were locked in a jail cell!"

"I could sleep cuz I knew you were thinkin'!"

"Ah!"

The tense minutes stretched on and on, the very air still as if it, too, waited, until finally the distant thunder of hoofbeats announced the arrival of the appointed hour.

Heyes stopped his pacing and Curry stood, unhurriedly twirling his gun into his holster. Their eyes locked and a wealth of information was exchanged. They joined Mick outside the door and watched the approaching riders.

There were seven of them and as motley as the Devil's Hole Gang had been they could never have equaled the disreputable appearance of this bunch of outlaws! In a cloud of dust they reined their horses to a snorting, stamping stop.

"We're here, Curry," Potter snarled.

"Get down then and let's get this over with!" Curry replied, stepping out of the shadows of the doorway, closely followed by Heyes and Mick.

The outlaws dismounted and Potter directed two of them to tie the horses to the corral railing. He, himself, stood legs apart, thumbs hooked in his gunbelt, an ugly sneer on his face. He caught sight of Mick at Heyes' side and the sneer grew bigger.

"So yer the Silver Kid! Huh! Don't look like yer old enough to shave!"

"Old enough to cut your shaving days short!" Mick retorted. "'Course it looks like you don't get intimate with a razor much anyway!"

"Hold on!" Curry intervened as Potter drew himself up and prepared to respond to Mick's insult. Instead he spat as the Kid went on, "You ain't here to insult each other to death, but before we get on with business I've gotta tell the rest of your boys the conditions."

"Conditions? What conditions?" the scruffy outlaw growled.

"Just this: I want all you boys' word that if the Silver Kid wins and Potter dies, this is where it ends! He ain't got a beef with any of you unless you start somethin' an' I want you all to know that if you start somethin' with him you're startin' somethin' with me an' Heyes, too!"

"And if I kill him?"

"Then it's over, too."

"We ain't gonna have no problem with you an' Heyes?"

"Nope, so long as it's a fair fight." Curry looked around at the disreputable bunch. "So what do you boys say?"

The gang muttered a chorus of "yeahs" and "it's okay by me" and other positive responses.

"I'll deal with all of you later," Potter spat viciously at his men.

"Y'ain't goin' t'let 'im beat ya, are ya, Potter?" one of the outlaws asked jovially.

"Yeah, we ain't worried this pup'll kill ya, Potter! So we ain't gonna hafta keep that promise!" another piped in.

"Show 'im what for!" another called.

"Let's get this over with, Curry," the gang leader demanded.

Not needing to be told, the outlaws drew away from their leader. Heyes and Curry also stepped aside, leaving the two opponents with a clear line of sight.

"I'm gonna give you a matching hole in that there vest of yours, boy," the older man blustered.

"You gonna talk me to death, or draw?" Mick retorted coolly. She stood relaxed and ready, immune to any distractions.

Heyes wished he could turn away from the spectacle, but knew he had to be a witness no matter the outcome. His hand hovered near the grip of his six-gun, ready in case the result didn't favor Mick - - Potter wouldn't leave this spot alive in any case.

Time seemed to play tricks, slowing first down to a crawl as the opponents both waited for the first twitch from the other; then it raced by as both gunslingers grabbed simultaneously for their weapons and in almost perfect unison pulling them from their holsters, two shots sounding almost as one, then time stood still as a look of almost comical surprise crossed Potter's face. His left hand rose spasmodically to his chest where a crimson spot slowly began to spread and he glanced down at it then back to his killer, who still held the deadly weapon pointing steadily at him. His mouth moved as if he would speak, but his knees failed him then and he crumbled face down into the dirt, dead before he hit.

Heyes' heart started to beat again as he stared at the unmoving outlaw, then he turned his eyes to the frozen figure of the Silver Kid whose eyes hadn't left the body of her nemesis. She seemed unharmed, so where had Potter's shot gone? The outlaws began to mutter angrily amongst themselves and Curry drew his gun saying, "Boys, I'd like to remind you of

your promise. The Kid here won fair an' square - - you saw it yourselves. Now you're all free to go and remember, you'll deal with me if anything happens to him!" His voice was smooth and on the surface non-threatening, but everyone there heard the underlying menace and saw the promise of bloody retribution in his eyes. They all knew Kid Curry's reputation and none of them wanted to be the first to dispute it.

"We'll just be on our way then," one spoke up.

As a group, the outlaws hurried to retrieve their horses from where they were tied. The new spokesman reached down from his horse to untie Potter's bay and Curry called, "Just leave Potter's horse where it is." Curry's pistol still being pointed in his direction, the outlaw obeyed and in a flurry of dust they raced each other out of the tiny canyon.

His partner having taken care of the danger from the outlaws, Heyes turned his full attention to Mick, who by this time had turned away from the dead outlaw, her shoulders sagging, her hand still holding her gun hanging lifelessly by her side. "Are you all right, Mick? He didn't hit you, did he?"

She raised her head and he looked into eyes that had once been bright silver, but were now an empty lifeless grey; he felt a shiver sweep up his spine. She shrugged in response to his question.

Heyes stepped to her side and appraised her critically, seeing no blood, but his sharp eyes caught the tear in her left shirtsleeve. He whistled softly, "He came pretty close!"

"Not close enough," was the leaden reply. She turned and walked away, the pistol still dangling from her hand. Heyes didn't follow, remembering the scene by the stream.

"Is she all right?" Curry asked, coming to his partner's side.

"Well, she's wasn't shot, if that's what you mean, Kid," the other replied, his dark eyes still following the dejected figure. "I didn't like the look in her eyes, though."

"She's just killed a man, Heyes, give her a few minutes."

"I hope it's only that," Heyes replied doubtfully.

"What're we gonna do with Potter's body?"

"Bury it, I guess."

"The reward on him is $5000."

Heyes shook his head. "Mick won't take it and, even if we could claim it, I wouldn't want to use blood money for our stake. Would you?"

"No, I guess not. I'll get shovels."

Heyes remained standing for a moment, looking at the spot where Mick had gone behind some boulders near the mine entrance. He felt a strange impulse to follow her which he had to suppress with determination in order to join Curry in the grave digging.

He dug furiously for some time, trying to push away the nagging feeling that something was wrong, but without success. Finally, he planted his shovel in the dirt and at Curry's questioning look, said, "She shouldn't be left alone, Kid - - I feel it."

"Do what you have to, Heyes, I'll keep digging."

Heyes approached the boulders with trepidation, stopping to listen, but hearing nothing. He followed Mick's trail and entered a small spot clear of everything but a large flat rock where Mick sat, unmoving, her hat laying on the rock beside her, still holding the gun in her hand which lay in her lap. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, raining onto the weapon, and their silence made them all the more heart wrenching.

His formless fear now taking a definite shape, he dared to move closer. Although he took no care to walk quietly, she seemed unaware of his presence. "Mick, that isn't the answer," he said softly.

He didn't think she had heard him it took so long for her to answer. "No, maybe not, but it is an answer!" Her voice was barely audible and hoarse with the effort it took to hold back the sobs.

"It's your life," he shrugged, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Some people have put $10,000 as the value of my life an' the Kid's, but we kind of think they're worth quite a bit more than that. If we hadn't we'd've let them take us long ago and given up this life on the run that we live. You're going to have to decide the value of your own, but I, for one, will be disappointed if you figure it's only worth the cost of a tiny lump of lead."

He turned his back on her and walked away, his muscles tense as he waited, expecting to hear the final gunshot, but silence followed him all the way back to the partially dug grave where Kid still labored.

Curry looked up from his digging and, seeing the grim look on Heyes' face, he stopped. "What's wrong? Is Mick okay?"

"There's one more killin' she has in mind," Heyes explained grimly.

"What?" the blond exclaimed, dropping his shovel. "And you left her there alone?" Curry leaped out of the hole and began to hurry to Mick's aid.

Heyes grabbed his arm, restraining him. "No, Kid."

"What do you mean 'no'? We can't just let her ..." he couldn't go on.

The dark, forbidding look Heyes gave his partner was one Curry had seen used effectively on recalcitrant gang members, but never on himself. "This is a decision she has to make for herself, Kid. No one can make her want to live except herself!"

"But, Heyes ..." the other began to protest desperately.

"It's okay, Kid, look."

Curry turned and saw Mick walking slowly around the boulders, her gun now holstered, her face tear-streaked and haggard. Both outlaws breathed sighs of relief.

She walked past them without acknowledgement, almost as if she didn't see them, to the corral where Potter's horse was nuzzling with King over the railing. She stripped the tack off the bay and, taking curry brush in hand, began to methodically groom the dust and sweat from the animal's hide.

"Come on, Kid, let's let her be and finish this grave."

Even with the two of them working, the sun was sinking behind the cliffs when they finally rolled Potter, now wrapped in the blanket from his bedroll, into the grave and covered him with dirt. Mick had long since finished brushing the bay until she shone in the light and had then put her in the corral with food and fresh water in the trough. She stood beside the animal, her hand wrapped in the long mane as the mare drank her fill, the big black standing protectively near them both.

"What's with her and Potter's horse?" Heyes asked curiously.

"It's one of her stolen horses."

"How do you know that, Kid? Neither of them is branded."

"I've been caring for King while you've been caring for Mick and I've gotten to know his lines pretty well, so when I saw that mare I recognized the same lines in her. It couldn't have been a coincidence. That's why I wouldn't let his gang take her."

Heyes nodded approvingly. "Maybe needing to care for them will give her some sense of purpose. Come on, let's get supper on."

Supper was a strained silent affair, with each of the three lost in their own dismal thoughts. Even Curry's famous appetite was restrained to only one helping, while Mick did less eating than pushing the food around on her plate.

"I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning," she said finally, breaking the thick silence. "But I don't want to leave without thanking you both for all you've done to help me - - tending my wounds, Heyes; teaching me, Kid, and rescuing Beauty from those outlaws. I won't forget you."

"Where are you going?" Brown eyes darkened by concern studied the care worn face across the table.

"The only thing I'm sure of right now is I'm going home, not to stay, just to visit Mike and tell him justice has been done. After that, well, I just can't think any farther than that right now."

"You won't forget my offer? That partnership will be there if you ever come to claim it."

"I won't forget, Heyes, and I appreciate it; I know what you're trying to do. I just don't have the heart for it. All I have is a gaping hole where my heart should be and if I try to look into the future all I see is a vast, black emptiness. I wish my courage hadn't failed me this afternoon." She sighed and her head and shoulders slumped.

"It takes courage to live, too, Mick."

"I don't think I have the courage for that either, so where does that leave me? Rage has sustained me this long, and justice has been my purpose; now that justice has been served the only place the rage has to turn is on me for surviving."

"Mick ..." Heyes began to protest.

"No more, Heyes, I can't bear it. I'll say good night now." So saying she rose from the table, hung her gunbelt on the bed post and rolled up in her blanket, her back to the former outlaws, but it was a long time before she slept.

It was an equally long time before the former outlaws ceased their troubled study of the dancing flames of the fire and sought their own bedrolls, only to find sleep elusive and when found, troubled.

The cold dawn found the three shivering in the grey light, dark circles under three pairs of eyes, speaking little and only of the immediate needs of preparing Mick for her journey.

Curry saddled the big black while Heyes fashioned a harness of sorts so supplies could be strapped to the bay. Mick packed sacks with food for her and feed for the horses and filled two canteens with cool water from the well. These she handed to Heyes to secure on the pack animal.

In a very short time she was ready to go, all that was left were the goodbyes which none of them knew how to say.

Finally, Mick thrust out her hand to Heyes, who gripped it firmly, "Good-bye, Heyes." She repeated the gesture with Curry. "Good-bye, Kid."

"Good-bye, Mick," Heyes said. "Should you ever get to Coldwater, Colorado, look up Dr. O'Reilly and his family. I'll be telegraphing them that you may come so they'll be expecting you."

"Don't you ever give up, Heyes?" She almost smiled, bemused.

"Heyes doesn't know the meaning of giving up, Mick," Curry put in. "That's what's kept us going all this time. Take care, Mick. Stay alert. You have a reputation now and they grow without tending, just like weeds, and there will always be those who feel the need to challenge that reputation."

"Thanks, Kid."

With that she mounted and the black horse danced in his eagerness, needing only the slightest of touches to leap into a canter, the bay following on her lead rope.

Heyes and Curry watched her retreating form until she was out of sight, only the settling dust a reminder that she had been there.

"I failed, Kid," Heyes sighed running his fingers through his fine brown hair. "So much for my silver tongue!"

"You can't save everyone, Heyes," Curry replied.

"Can't I save one?" Sorrowful brown eyes pleaded silently.

Brilliant blue eyes gazed back in sympathy. "You already did, Heyes."

"Yeah, who?"

"Me. If not for you that could just as well have been me: angry, empty, and hopeless! Come on, I'll let you make the coffee!" Curry threw his arm around his partner's shoulders and turned him back to the shack.

"Why don't you make the coffee, if you think mine is so bad!" Heyes retorted.

"How 'bout we flip for it? Got a coin?"

Heyes dug into his vest pocket for his lucky coin. "Call it!" he said with a grin as the coin flipped up into the golden glare of the rising sun.

The End