Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.
Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.
A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.
Looking For Trouble
Chapter 1: Son of a Gun?
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"Mmm," Hannibal Heyes closed his eyes appreciatively as he stepped out of the library into the the waning sunlight. "That feels good."
The former outlaw stood in front of the entrance way, silent for a moment, soaking up the warmth of the late spring afternoon. A loud bell clanged. Dark brown eyes blinked open, then squinted against the brightness. Heyes pulled the door shut behind him. A little metallic click told him the lock settled into place. The forty-nine year old glanced towards the schoolhouse.
"Chorus practice finished on time for once," chuckled Heyes.
Students poured out of the building. Heyes' lips curled up in a soft smile. Clem came down the stairs with one hand firmly clasping the wrist of their squirming five year old son. Kid's three oldest daughters raced past them towards their father's workshop. The fledgling business, Jones' Mechanical Repair, specialized in gun maintenance but also serviced the local newspaper's finicky printer, the huge hydraulic saw at the lumber mill and other machinery in the surrounding countryside. Kid could take apart, fix and put back together just about anything. Heyes arched his back and stretched his arms out to either side with a contented sigh. Two pretty good bad men had come a long way from their days on the run, even without an amnesty.
"Hi Josh'a!"
From across the street, ten year old Eliza waved at him. Heyes lowered his arms, tugging on the white cuffs of his button down shirt. Hannah reached the workshop door next, followed closely by little Jennifer. Eliza opened the door. For a moment there was a shuffle as the six year old and the five year old both tried to go through at once, then the younger girls disappeared inside.
"Eliza, would you tell Thaddeus…," called Heyes.
But the door to the machine shop swung shut on its hinges as Eliza followed her younger sisters inside. Heyes shook his head with a rueful grin.
"I'll tell him myself," murmured Heyes.
His sharp ears heard the sound of hooves further down the street behind him. Strangers in Thunder Ridge were rare. The slender man turned to see the approaching rider at the edge of town. The man reined in at Uriah's livery. The stranger pushed back his dusty black hat to dangle by the stampede strings revealing straight, sandy blond hair. The man lowered a dusty neckerchief from the set of his square jaw. Heyes' mouth dropped open. He staggered to one side and reached out a hand to the library siding for support. His other hand reached to loosen the black string tie at his throat. Footsteps behind him announced the arrival of Clem and Arthur.
"Joshua, you're so pale," observed Clem in concern. An arm clad in blue serge appeared in front of his eyes. Clem's delicate hand stroked the side of his face, then reached up to feel his forehead. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Maybe I have," whispered Heyes in a hoarse voice.
"What are you talking about?" demanded his wife.
The slim woman stepped in front of him, still gripping Arthur with her other hand. The boy was tall for his age. Heyes acknowledged his son's dimpled grin with a brief flash of his own before he looked past his family to the oncoming threat. The tall, lanky man dismounted with a familiar easy grace. A distinctive voice asked Uriah to look after his horse. Uriah's response caused the stranger to reach for his wallet. The apparition threw back the front panel of his cutaway coat to reveal a worn brown holster tied down against the man's thigh as if he knew how to use it.
"But it couldn't be him," gulped Heyes.
"Couldn't be who? What's the matter?" interrupted Clem's worried voice.
Heyes snapped alert. The shaken man straightened up, the master planner inside him took charge. His hands dropped beside his slim hips, reaching to remove the safety on a gun in a holster that wasn't there. Inwardly, Heyes berated himself for his complacency. He seldom wore a pistol now. These days, his weapon of choice was an ink pen.
"Trouble," asserted the tactical genius.
Brown eyes scanned the nearly vacant street. All the other school children were gone. Aside from the Smith family, Uriah and the stranger, the only person he could see outside was someone napping in the rocker on Mrs. Henderson's front porch.
"Clem, take Arthur over to Thaddeus' shop. Make sure everyone stays inside."
"What?" spluttered Clem in surprise.
The tiny woman released her son's wrist and balled up her hands against her hips. Clem's chin jutted out.
"Joshua! Tell me! What's gotten in to you?"
"We don't have time to argue!" insisted Heyes. "Just do it!"
Heyes reached out and grasped Clem by the shoulders. Gentle fingers bodily turned the headstrong woman to face Kid's shop. The brunette let out an affronted squawk of protest.
"Everyone," repeated Heyes. "And that includes Thaddeus!"
Clem's hazel eyes turned in the direction Heyes had been staring. For the first time, she saw the armed stranger. The color drained from her face as Clem realized the implications of her husband's determination to get them off the street.
"Who…?" began Clem.
Heyes shrugged his shoulders in answer. He knew who the new arrival looked like, but that was impossible. Right? Heyes gave his son a nudge in the direction of Kid's business.
"Go with your mother!"
"Pa!" protested Arthur. "What about you?"
"Don't worry about me," ordered Heyes. "And mind your mother!"
Clem grabbed Arthur's wrist and pulled their son along in a hurried rush. Heyes angled down the street as Uriah led the stranger's horse into the stable. The new arrival turned to face Heyes directly. Closer now, Heyes realized this man was young, barely twenty, if that. And the stranger was thin, with that skinny, lean look of a young man who hadn't reached his full growth. Heyes forced a warm smile across his face.
"Welcome! We don't get many visitors here," greeted the silver tongued charmer. "What brings you to Thunder Ridge?"
The youth took his time to peel off his worn riding gloves. Heyes continued his assessment of the new arrival: threadbare clothes, a determined look on his face. For a moment, Heyes was almost reminded of Kid at seventeen, but then a big toothy grin spread across the younger man's face. The Danny Bilson lookalike smiled.
"I'm looking for a fella named Jones."
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