Going for Gold, Taking Silver, Getting Bronze
A cold wind blew through the compound, rattling the remaining leaves off the trees and kicking up dust devils as it scudded along the bare earth. The men hunched into their jackets and broke apart the group, most heading into the bunkhouse – but not all.
"… Thinks he's so smart." The man huffed as he stalked away from the Devil's Hole compound.
The smallest and scruffiest of those remaining bit a chaw of tobacco, hitched up his pants, and hurried after him. "What would you do different, Wheat, if you was in charge?"
"Well, shoot, if I were in charge I'd … I'd …" Wheat paused and frowned. Shaking his head, he growled, "Whatever I did, I'd do it smarter. And I'll tell you this." Wheat warmed to his theme, his voice rising. "If I were leading this gang, we'd have enough money to go somewheres warmer this winter instead of being stuck here. Yessir, if I led this gang, we'd all be better off." He stomped away, leaving Kyle looking after him.
~~~oOo~~~
The Kid entered the cabin, his arms loaded with firewood. As he walked to the fireplace, he glanced at his cousin, who was staring absently out the window. Curry bent over to place a couple of logs on the fire and spoke casually, "Wheat's at it again."
"I know; I heard him." Heyes scowled and began to pace. "We need to settle this. He can't keep undermining my authority." Suddenly he stopped and glanced at the Kid, his dimples appearing. "Why don't you shoot him?"
"Too easy a target. No sport in it."
Heyes snorted and continued pacing.
"You'll think of somethin'." The Kid looked cautiously at Heyes then turned back to the fire. "He's got a point though."
"What? Not you, too?"
Curry straightened up and faced his friend. "I'm not real anxious to spend winter here either, and we don't have enough money to go someplace warmer for five months."
"Five months snowed in here?" Heyes looked appalled for a moment then his shoulders slumped and he turned towards his room. At the doorway, he paused and looked back. "I'll figure something out. You're right, I don't think I can take five months of Wheat saying how he would do things better. I'd probably shoot him myself, since you won't do it for me." He stalked into his room and slammed the door.
~~~oOo~~~
As the two leaders entered the bunk house, Wheat stopped in mid-flow, his mouth hanging open momentarily before he shut it. The other men who had been sitting and listening to Wheat, started in their chairs, and assumed non-committal expressions.
Heyes shut the door and leaned against it. "Evening, men." He held Wheat's eyes until Wheat looked away and bowed his head slightly.
"Heyes, Kid." The men responded guardedly, exchanging guilty looks with each other.
Heyes smiled grimly.
"So, men, I've been thinking that we need one more job before winter sets in. Something to allow us all to spend it anywhere other than here."
The men looked interested.
"Gee, Heyes, that's just what Wheat was saying," said Kyle. "What?" He looked at Wheat, who had poked him forcefully in the ribs.
The Kid slowly straightened up from the wall he'd been leaning against, deliberately rested his hands on the buckle of his belt, and looked steadily at Wheat. "Got somethin' you want to say, Wheat?"
Wheat opened his mouth and closed it a few times. "No."
"Sure you do, Wheat," said Kyle, encouraging his friend. "You was just saying that you'd make sure we had enough money to head somewhere warmer for a few months." He turned excitedly to Heyes and the Kid. "He's got lots o' ideas about how we could get some money." He exclaimed, ignoring Wheat's attempts to shush him.
"Does he now?" said Heyes, looking at Wheat, not Kyle.
"Well …" Wheat began then stopped.
The other gang members watched the battle of wills, their eyes shifting from speaker to speaker, taking a grim satisfaction from the duel.
Heyes' eyes darkened but he allowed a smile to illuminate his mouth as he looked at Wheat. "Tell you what, why don't we have a contest – just the two of us? One robbery and whichever one of us brings back the most for the gang to split gets to lead."
"One robbery?"
"Yup, and I know just who we're going to rob. Since it's only the two of us and we won't be working together, we're going to rob a home. A rich home."
"Just you and me?"
"Yup."
"Whoever robs him first is going to get the most. Won't be anything left for the next fella to take. That don't make sense." Wheat folded his arms, smirking.
"We go in together. One hour. Whoever brings the most back to the Hole, leads the gang." Heyes looked around the room. "That seem fair to you, boys?"
"Sure."
"Uh, huh."
The rest of the gang nodded their agreement.
"The Kid gonna be there to make sure you get the biggest share?" Wheat looked at the Kid with a mixture of defiance and fear. Curry smiled back at him, but Wheat shivered just the same.
"No, just the two of us, we'll enter the building, take what we can. When we get back here we'll tally the score. The Kid and Hank here can be nearby to help us get away, but that's it. That way you know the Kid won't be helping me; Hank'll be there to make sure."
Wheat looked around at the other gang members and ran a finger around his collar. He looked at Heyes and back at the gang. Finally, he sighed. "Okay, as long as it's just you and me doing the robbing. Who are we robbing?"
"That banker – Rutherford."
"Who?"
Curry rolled his eyes. "You remember him. That rich banker who cheated in that poker tournament down Cheyenne way a month or two back. When Heyes called him on it, he brought in his goons. Heyes and me figure it's about time to get a little payback."
"Oh, him." Wheat sat quietly then brightened. "Yeah, but ain't his goons going to be around if we break into his house?"
"Not next weekend they won't be." Heyes dimpled. "I've been keeping tabs. Seems the missus is going out of town and Rutherford's having his mistress in for the weekend. Doesn't want the guards around while she's there. Guess he's afraid someone'll slip and the missus will find out." His eyes darkened. "But that's the least of his worries. No one cheats me and gets away with it."
~~~oOo~~~
Heyes slipped his knife into the crack of the window and lifted the latch. Opening the window he climbed through. As he started to move into the room, hissing and sputtering erupted at the window. Hesitating for a moment, he shrugged, then turned back to give Wheat a hand climbing in.
"This is the study," Heyes whispered, pulling out a candle and lighting it, after making sure the curtains were closed.
Wheat looked around. "So this contest of yours - now what? Do we both gotta stay in this room?"
"Nope. You can go anywhere you want. Of course, you're more likely to run into someone if you go wandering around, and the safe's in here. But it's up to you." Heyes looked around and grinned when he saw the safe tucked in the corner with an oil lamp sitting on top. "Piece of cake," he muttered to himself walking over.
Wheat watched Heyes for a moment then shrugged and went to the door. He opened it a crack, thought better, and turned back to look around the room. "I didn't bring a candle, can I take that one? You can light that lamp."
"No. If you want to lead you need to be prepared. You're not, and I'm not helping you. Now be quiet, I'm busy." Heyes leaned back to the door of the safe and resumed twisting the dial, focused on the slight sussings the tumblers emitted as he manipulated them.
Wheat muttered to himself, stepped into the hall, and promptly tripped over a chair in the dark. Cursing silently, he returned to the study. He looked around the room, sizing up the choices.
Wheat had opened a curio cabinet and was examining the contents when he heard a quiet laugh from Heyes and the sound of an opening door. Spinning around he saw that Heyes had opened the safe and was examining the contents.
Wheat's eyes widened, and he hurried over. "Those are gold bars," he exclaimed, reaching forward to snag one.
Heyes swatted his hand away. "Hey, this is a contest, remember? Did you open this safe? No, you didn't. So get your hand out of there. When I'm done, I'll shut it, and you can open it yourself if you want something from it."
"What? You know I can't open a safe that way. I didn't bring any dynamite."
"Guess you're going to have to find something else."
"Look, Heyes, be reasonable. Those gold bars are too heavy for you to carry alone. We can both take some and call it even."
Heyes ignored him and continued looking through the contents of the safe. He examined some papers, smiled, rolled them up, and tucked them inside his jacket. That accomplished, he stood up and shut the safe door.
Wheat glared at him. "Ain't you even going to take the gold?"
"No." Heyes looked at his watch. "Forty minutes gone, Wheat. You have twenty minutes left. I'll even leave you the candle. See you back at the Hole." He climbed back through the window and disappeared into the dark garden beyond.
Wheat swore softly and tried the handle of the safe – nothing. He huffed and turned, examining the room. Finally, shrugging his shoulders, he walked over to the cabinet he'd been exploring and removed a pair of candlesticks. He hefted them in his hands, considering. "Silver, at least that's something. Didn't see Heyes take anything, just some old papers. Bet these candlesticks and that platter there'd be worth more than that. Who needs his gold anyway?" he muttered to himself.
Filling his arms with the silver items he headed to the window. Realizing he couldn't climb out with his hands full, he tossed the goods out the window. They landed with a clatter. Climbing out after them, he didn't notice the light that had come on in the room on the floor above.
Suddenly, a shot blasted next to him. "Who goes there? You there, stop or the next one goes into you!" A whistle blew, and another man came running, gun drawn.
Heyes, Curry, and Hank drew up in the shadows of a tree in time to see Wheat hang his head for a moment before raising his hands in the air and standing still. Curry drew his gun, but stopped when Heyes grabbed his arm and pointed to the arriving sheriff. "Too late."
~~~oOo~~~
Outside of town, Heyes and Curry stood to the side while Hank explained to the gang what had happened. Heyes placed the papers in his saddlebag and drew out a couple of items. He and Curry spoke quietly.
Kyle hurried over. "Heyes, what are we gonna do about Wheat?"
Eyebrow raised, Heyes turned towards the gang. "Why should I do anything about Wheat? Not my fault he got himself caught."
The gang murmured among themselves, tossing an occasional dark look at Heyes, while Kyle frowned and looked back and forth.
Curry spoke. "Heyes doesn't mean it, Kyle. He has a plan. Hank and I are going back to get Wheat. You go on back to the Hole with Heyes." He smiled. "After all, this fool contest is still goin' on, and we wouldn't want Wheat to be able to say Heyes cheated by pickin' up somethin' on his way back to the Hole now, would we?" He waved Hank over to his side and looked around. "We'll camp here for the night. Then while Hank and I go in and get Wheat, the rest of you will wait here. If anyone asks, you're working for the U.S. Marshal Service and are waitin' his orders. Don't go anywhere."
The gang looked confused. Heyes rolled his eyes. "It won't hurt Wheat to spend a night in jail – might even teach him a lesson. The Kid's in charge of the rescue. You don't need to understand right now, just do what he tells you. Come on, Kyle." He mounted his horse and waited impatiently for Kyle to join him.
~~~oOo~~~
Wheat sat up on the hard wooden bunk that served as a bed in the jail cell. He got up, paced and stretched his back, then sank back down, his head in his hands as he moaned to himself. He looked up. "Hey, sheriff, do I get any food here?"
"Hold your horses, man. Thief like you don't get a lot o' say in when you get fed." The sheriff tossed the keys to his deputy. "Billy, go escort him to the necessary, and I'll make us all some coffee." He looked sternly at Wheat. "Don't try anything. So far all you've done is try to rob old man Rutherford of a couple of knicknacks – no one's gonna blame you too much for that, except Rutherford, of course – but you try to escape and Billy here has my permission to kill you. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it."
"Just so you understand."
~~~oOo~~~
Wheat pushed the thin oatmeal around in the bowl. When he thought about what Heyes would say, he lost his appetite. Probably just let him rot in jail. He glanced at the sheriff and deputy where they sat talking quietly.
"Billy, why don't you go do the rounds while I keep our master criminal here company," the sheriff said.
Billy nodded. "Yeah, he don't look too dangerous, even if Ol' Rutherford is screaming for his head."
"Ay!" Wheat took exception.
The sheriff and Billy looked at Wheat and laughed. Billy was still laughing as he walked out the door.
Wheat looked speculatively at the sheriff. "Don't sound like you like Rutherford much."
"What I or this whole town thinks of Rutherford doesn't matter to you. You're still guilty of robbing the man."
Wheat sighed.
A knock on the door caused both men to look up. The sheriff gave Wheat a hard look. "Friends of yours?"
"Doubt it. Don't think I have any friends, and the type of folks I know don't usually bother to knock."
The sheriff snorted but pulled his gun before walking over to the door. He looked through the barred window. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
"Name's McCloud. U.S. Marshal Service," the muffled voice announced. Wheat could just make out a shadow of a man outside the window.
The sheriff opened the door and two men entered.
Wheat quickly checked his exclamation as he recognized the Kid, now wearing a U.S. Marshal's bronze star on his jacket, and Hank standing quietly behind the Kid.
"Sorry didn't catch the name."
The Kid smiled and stuck out his hand. "The name's McCloud, Dillon McCloud."
"Well, Marshal McCloud, what can I do for you?"
The Kid turned to Hank. "Take a good look at him." He gestured at Wheat. "Is that him? That Floyd Hudsucker?"
Hank walked over to the bars and, with his back turned to the sheriff, winked at Wheat. "Yeah, that's Hudsucker all right."
"Hudsucker? Well, sounds more likely than John Brown, which is what he told me his name was. What do you want with him?"
"We don't want him. The Canadians do," the Kid replied. "Seems he and his gang are wanted up in Saskatoon for grand theft and the murder of twenty people. We been tracking him for a while. Heard he was headed this way."
"Him? You sure you got the right man?" The sheriff looked at Wheat incredulously then shook his head. "Don't seem capable of robbing a two-year old to me," he muttered.
Wheat, who was straining to listen to the exchange, took offense, again. "Aye, now."
Curry swallowed a smile. "You have a point. He don't look too bright, but gotta admit that 'eh' sure sounded Canadian to me."
Wheat glared at him.
"What are you holding him on, sheriff?" The Kid ignored Wheat.
"Petty theft."
"In that case, I think the Canadians have the better claim on him." He reached into a pocket and pulled out some papers. "Ever seen a federal warrant before?"
"Not around here. It's pretty quiet these parts."
Curry handed him the papers. "Well, now you have."
The sheriff examined the papers curiously. Having never seen a federal warrant before, he had no idea whether this was one. Satisfied, he nodded and handed the Kid the keys to the cell.
"Thanks." The Kid pulled a large set of handcuffs from his pocket. He held the cuffs out to Hank. "Mr. Malloy, why don't you go cuff him, and we can take him now." Curry turned back to the sheriff. "I have men waiting on the edge of town to help me transport him to Canada. We want to get moving before his gang hears of this and comes after him."
The sheriff watched them hustle Wheat out of his office and shook his head. "Twenty murders, grand theft, gang – who'd have thought it of that bumble-fingered fool."
~~~oOo~~~
Back at Devil's Hole, the gang was celebrating the contestants' safe return.
Kyle looked back and forth at the two. "So who won the bet?"
"Kyle," Wheat said exasperated. "No one did. The sheriff took the silver I got, and Heyes didn't take anything in the first place, just some old papers."
"Well, I did manage to keep those papers." Heyes smiled brightly at Wheat. "So, I'd say I won. I brought back more than you."
Wheat glowered at him. "The bet was to bring back something to share with the gang; something to give us enough to tide us over the winter. You didn't do that. Paper ain't gonna keep us warm very long, even if we use it for kindling."
"Yeah," came the disgruntled reply from the gang. "We're still stuck here for the winter."
Heyes dimpled at the Kid, who gave a broad grin right back.
"Would I do that to my gang?" asked Heyes. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the papers he had taken from Rutherford's safe. "Don't you even want to know what these papers were that were so important Rutherford stored them in his safe?" He looked at Wheat.
Wheat's face creased in suspicion. "Okay, Heyes, what's so great about those papers?"
"Those insignificant papers just happen to be bearer bonds. You know, 'pay to the bearer' no questions asked. And there's twenty thousand dollars' worth here." He looked around at the gang members and watched faces begin to light up. "I'd say that's enough for all of us to enjoy a few months somewhere else."
A cheer went up. Wheat groaned.
"So did I win our little contest, Wheat?"
"Yeah, yeah." Wheat subsided in a chair and continued to mutter under his breath.
"I'll divide these up and you all can head out whenever you want. Any of you who still want to ride with us, meet back here the end of April." Heyes walked out the door of the bunkhouse and sauntered to the leaders' cabin.
Curry watched him go then turned back to the room. "He told you he'd been watchin' Rutherford. He knew the bonds were there. That's what makes a good leader – plannin'." He paused then reached into his pocket. "Wheat, catch."
Wheat looked up and automatically caught the object the Kid tossed him. "What is it?"
"The marshal's badge. Keep it to remember just who leads this gang – it ain't you." Blue eyes fixed Wheat with an icy stare before their owner turned and walked out the door after his partner.
"Let me see, Wheat."
"Shut up, Kyle." Wheat stared morosely at the bronze medal in his hand, turning it over, reading and reading the words "U.S. Marshal Service." It was going to be a long, cold winter.