Heyes leaned against a pine tree, watching his horse lap up water from the stream, and decided this place was as good as any to sleep for the night. The copse of trees offered as good as protection as he was likely to find from searching eyes, and he knew eyes were looking for him; those of a bounty hunter who had been tracking him and the Kid for almost three days now. The two partners had decided to improve the odds of at least one of them getting away, and separated the day before. They planned to meet up in Woodstown, about twenty miles up the valley. If after a few days one or the other didn't show up, they'd go searching for each other.
Not a great plan, but the only one that offered any hope.
Now the sun was starting to dip beneath the ridge line. Soon he wouldn't be able to see his way through the dense forest. And neither would his tracker. Heyes was hoping he could finally catch some rest.
A cold gun barrel pressing against his neck told him that wasn't going to happen any time soon.
Without thinking it through, he reached for his pistol. He felt a flash of pain, and then nothing.
When he awoke, he wished he hadn't. For a minute he was completely disoriented. Other than a crashing headache from where he'd been hit on the head, he realized he was blindfolded and gagged. There was some kind of leather coiled around his neck; his hands were bound behind him and trussed up to his ankles, and a chain threaded the bindings to what seemed to be a ring in the leather. He twitched in pain as he gradually became aware of his circumstances, and a soft moan escaped his lips.
"You awake now, Mr. Heyes?" a soft voice asked.
Heyes jerked his head toward the sound, which resulted in a tightening of all of his bindings.
"Now, don't try shakin' your head or nothin," the voice continued. "You'll only do yourself more harm."
Heyes tried to relax back onto the ground. He felt the heat from what had to be a campfire, and smelled fish cooking. His stomach contracted, and he was terribly thirsty.
"Here's the situation," the man said. "I'm Ben Loman, the man who's been tracking you these past few days."
Loman! Heyes groaned inwardly. He'd heard of the man. He had a reputation for being damned good at his job.
"Now, you may have heard of me. Give a very brief nod, Mr. Heyes, if that's the case."
Heyes nodded.
"Very good. We're starting to get along just fine. I give you an order, and you obey. Yes?"
If Heyes could scowl, he would have. Instead he gave another brief nod.
"Here's your situation. I've caught you, fair and square. And I know you are a devil at escaping capture. But you see, I just don't let men escape. That's my reputation." The man paused, and Heyes heard him poking at the fire, and then swallow what might have been coffee, from the smell of it. Heyes' stomach contracted again. He hadn't eaten in more than a day, other than a few chews on some jerky.
"I''m going to bring you in. And that's a fact. So you may as well settle into that idea. All right?"
Heyes wasn't going to nod this time. He heard Loman chuckle.
"Well, I don't blame you for not agreein'. I know you're gonna try to get loose. So I'm gonna make it impossible for you to succeed. I've got you tied up right good." Heyes tensed as he felt Loman's hands tugging at his bonds. "Good and tight. You feel that?"
Heyes nodded.
"I bet you do. And I bet you're right uncomfortable. And I'm sorry, Mr. Heyes, but you're going to stay right uncomfortable. Now, I'm not a cruel man. I bring in my bounty alive and mostly well. But I've learned how to keep a man under my control. I do so by depriving you of movement. Of speech. Of sight. I want you to understand that you are completely under my power. You stand, if I tell you. You sit, if I tell you. You drink, only if I want you to. You eat, only if I'm so inclined. You are my prisoner. Do you understand.?
Heyes nodded, tentatively.
"I'm afraid I've got to weaken you up a bit, Mr. Heyes. So for tonight and probably tomorrow, no food or water." Heyes heard Loman take another swallow of whatever he was drinking. "Then, we'll see."
Heyes felt movement as Loman apparently stood and walked off a few steps. It was very quiet. He heard the snort of the two horses and a bird fluttering through the trees. He heard the snap of the fire. He wished he heard the footsteps of Kid Curry, but it was too soon for that. He was going to have to wait it out and look for any opportunity to break free.
But he wasn't too confident he was going to succeed.
Somehow he must have fallen asleep. He was awakened by a boot nudging him none too gently in the ribs. Heyes groaned as his trussed up body made itself known. His hands had no feeling and his neck felt raw from the leather collar. He felt like the gag had imbedded itself deeper in his mouth, and he retched.
"Aw, now look what you done," Loman said. "That ain't gonna be too pleasant in your mouth now, is it?"
When Heyes didn't respond, he received another nudge with the boot. He shook his head slightly, and gagged again as the leather noose tightened.
He sensed Loman squatting down beside him. "So here's what we're gonna do. I told you I'm not a cruel man, so I'm gonna make sure you have the opportunity to do your morning necessities. Let me walk you through the plan, so there are no surprises. First, I'm gonna take this chain and tie it around a tree that's maybe six feet away from us." Heyes felt Loman unwrapping it from his ankles and wrists, and then felt a yank as it was pulled away and wound around the tree.
"Now," Loman said, stepping back to Heyes, "I suggest you slowly straighten up your knees so you're lyin' straight out."
Heyes stiffly obeyed, crying out at the pain from cramped muscles.
"I'm gonna tie your hands in front of you in a minute, but first…" To his dismay Heyes felt Loman snap some leg shackles around his ankles. "Don't want you free to do some kicking. I told you, Mr. Heyes, I'm a cautious man."
Heyes felt Loman's hands under his shoulders and he was pulled to his feet. He weaved for a minute as he found his balance. Loman held him steady for a moment. "Can you stand now?"
Heyes nodded, feeling the familiar unpleasant tug of the chain.
Loman unwrapped the bindings from his wrists and then rebound them in front. Heyes felt his fingers pulsing from the sudden flow of blood released at least momentarily by the leather thong, and gasped.
"Okay now," Loman said it what sounded like satisfaction. "You can follow that chain over to the tree and do your necessities. If I see you trying to take off your blindfold or your gag, you will not be a happy man. Do you understand?"
Heyes gave a brief nod and did as instructed. He was embarassed to know Loman was looking on, but he was grateful his needs could be taken care of.
"When you're done, you just stay where you are," Loman ordered him. "I'm saddling up the horses and then we're heading out. In case you're wondering where we're goin' to, the answer is the state of Wyoming."
Heyes groaned inwardly. Wyoming was a good hundred miles away.
"Yes, I know you're pleased to hear we'll be together a few days. Wyoming is where the reward money is, so Wyoming it is."
Heyes listened to the sounds of blankets being thrown onto horses' backs, then the familiar creak and thump of the saddles and the jinglings of the bits and reins. He heard Loman kicking at the fire, and smelled the smoke from the smouldering embers. Then he heard Loman's approaching boot steps, and felt him unwinding the chain. Heyes wished he could figure out anything within his power he could use to overpower the bounty hunter, but he'd never felt so completely helpless.
Loman yanked on the chain, and Heyes had no choice but to stumble after him. It was hard enough not to be able to see where he was going; the leg shackles made movement unpredictable and cumbersome.
"Here's the plan," Loman explained. "Sorry, Heyes, but you ain't gonna ride. I want you tuckered out, not sitting fat and sassy and planning my demise. I've fastened your lead to my pommel, so you ain't going anywhere." Loman untied Heyes hands and bound them swfitly behind him. "So I suggest you do your best to keep up. I ain't gonna do nothin' nasty like put the horse into a fast pace. Not unless you try any fancy tricks. So you just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other." Loman gave a dry chuckle. "And if you're lucky, we'll be in Wyoming in ten days or so."
Heyes heard as Loman mounted the horse, and then he stumbled forward as the chain pulled on his neck.
Kid Curry was pacing in front of the hotel. He'd ridden in after sunset, hoping to find Heyes' handwriting on the ledger. Nothing. There was only one hotel in the small town, so there was no other place Heyes could have bunked up for the night. Curry finally managed to get a few hours of restless sleep, worrying about his friend and partner. After the sun rose he grabbed some breakfast and checked the telegraph office, hoping for a wire. Again, nothing.
Two options. Heyes was slower arriving, and would show up any time now. Or the worse had happened, and the bounty hunter had nabbed him. He knew the plan was to wait a few days before setting out, but it was going to be a very slow wait.
And Curry was not a patient man.
Hours went by, and Heyes was having a hard time of it. He was constantly tripping over his the chain between his ankles, stumbling on rocks he couldn't see or the unevenness in the trail. Each stumble was met with a painful tug on his neck, causing him to gulp for air through the foul wetness of the gag. He told himself he had to get through at least this day. By tomorrow, hopefully, the Kid would have lost patience and be heading out looking for him. Kid was an excellent tracker. With any luck at all, by this time the day after, he'd be a free man again.
The sun was beating on his shoulders as Loman finally pulled to a halt, and Heyes heard him swing himself off his horse. Loman checked over Heyes' bindings and grunted in satisfaction.
"I'm gonna water the horses," he said. "Give'em a little rest."
Heyes felt the lead chain loosen, and then had no choice but to follow Loman to wherever he was leading him. It was probably too much to hope for food or water. But the idea of getting off his feet for awhile would be gift enough.
A gift Loman wasn't giving. Heyes felt some tugging on the chain, and then Loman stepped away.
"Here's the situation. That chain is bound around an overhead tree limb. You try to sit down, you'll choke pretty bad. Understand?"
Heyes nodded, and immediately felt the pull on his neck.
"I'm truly sorry about this, Mr. Heyes." And Loman in fact sounded regretful. "But I told you, I gotta weaken you up so you won't try nothing."
Heyes tried to ignore his screaming muscles as he listened to the familiar sounds of making camp. Kindling was broken up, a fire started; he smelled the smoke, and then the tantalizing aroma of baking beans. Loman hummed a bit to himself, and the horses seemed to be chomping on grass. Heyes allowed himself to feel sorry for himself; everyone else was relaxing but him. He was hanging like a trussed turkey to a tree with the sun beating down on him. Sweat poured down his back; his mouth felt worse than sandpaper, and his stomach was crying out for food.
Suddenly his legs gave out from under him, and he started to collapse to the ground. The chain yank him powerfully, and Heyes groaned.
"Told ya," Loman called over to him. "It probably don't feel too good, but ya ain't gonna choke to death, and I ain't gonna help ya none. "
Heyes was too exhausted to straighten up. It didn't seem worth the effort.
He must have passed out, because suddenly the chain loosened and he fell with a thud to the dirt, gasping for breath.
"You with me?" Loman asked. When Heyes didn't answer, he nudged him in the chest. "I request an answer, Mr. Heyes."
Heyes forced himself to nod.
"Fine. We've had a pleasant meal, the animals and me. But we've got hours left in the day and miles still to travel." Again Heyes felt Loman's hands as he was lifted unceremoniously to his feet and then refastened to the horse. He had no choice but to try to follow Loman as they made their way higher up into the mountains.
Night fell, and after being allowed to relieve himself, Heyes was chained to a tree while Loman unsaddled the horses and prepared camp. He was beyond exhausted. Loman had finally let him get off his feet, though he attached Heyes' wrists once again to his ankles behind his back. Heyes laid his head onto the dirt, grateful for the change in circumstance, but frustrated that there was once again no way for him to break free. Loman was as he promised: very good at his job.
Loman squatted down beside him and tugged carefully at the bindings. "I'm gonna see if I can hunt something for a good meal," he told Heyes. "I don't think I need to tell you to stay put. Don't think you got a choice."
After awhile Heyes heard a gunshot from not too far away, and soon afterwards he heard the sound of bootsteps and Loman cheerfully humming as he entered the campsite. More sounds as Loman prepared the meal.
"Squirrel meat," he announced. "Better'n hard tack."
More familiar noises of what sounded like a coffee pot clanking and a frying pan sizzling. Heyes tried to shut it all out. It was a waste of energy to wish for relief.
Then Loman squatted beside him. "You've been a good prisoner today," he said, not unfriendly. "So here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna take the gag out of your mouth and you're gonna get some water. But you ain't gonna say anything, all right? I don't want to hear one tiny word out of your mouth, or the gag goes right back in again."
Heyes nodded.
Loman reached behind his head and unknotted the cloth, pulling it roughly from Heyes' mouth. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "This thing sure stinks."
Heyes ran his tongue over his dry mouth. It tasted sour from the vomit, and he almost retched again. Then Loman put a canteen to his lips, and Heyes took several eager gulps of the cold liquid before Loman pulled it away and snapped the cap back on.
"So here's the deal. I'm gonna wash out this nasty rag and leave you ungagged. At least for awhile. You keep your mouth shut and keep doing what you're told, I won't put it back in. You try sassing me or whining for favors, it goes in even tighter than before. Got it?"
Heyes nodded. It was a huge relief not to have the foul rag in his mouth. He felt like he could breath normally again.
He heard the campfire make some loud crackles, and figured Loman was building up the fire for the night. Heyes sighed. The ground was uneven and his neck was as stiff as his bound arms. He tried to shift to a more comfortable position, and heard the jangle of the chain to remind him that he had very little space to move about.
"I reckon you think I'm a hard man," Loman suddenly said. "And you may be right. So let me tell you why. Before the war I ran a small lumber mill down in Kentucky. Then the fighting began. One of my sons went north, the other went south." Loman paused. "Neither one came back. And I couldn't help but wonder if they'd been shooting at each other. Nearly ate me up, I was so mad at the waste of it all. So me and my wife pulled up stakes and headed west to where there wasn't a war. Ended up in Idaho. I started up another mill, and for awhile things went pretty good. The bad memories started to fade. We made some friends. And then," Loman paused again, "some drunken hooligans came into town one afternoon when we were at the store stocking up on food stuff. They started shootin' off their guns, and one of them shot my Eunice. She died right there on that dirty street. The cowboys rode off without lookin' back. So I did what a citizen does under the law. I went to the marshall and asked him to find the riders. Figured it wasn't that hard to do; they probably came from a ranch nearby. Well, the marshall rode off and came back the same night. Said he couldn't find them. That they'd rode off."
Heyes heard Loman moving around, adding what sounded like more wood to the fire. "So's I went off to find them myself. Wasn't hard to do. Sure enough, they worked at the Hanscomb spread, ten miles outa town. Mr. Hanscomb tried to pay me off, like he'd done the marshall, saying his boys were just rowdy after a long haul of herding cattle. But that didn't account for them shooting Eunice. I forced my way over to the bunkhouse, got the draw on the shooter and brought him to town. Weren't no reward for him. I just wanted justice." Loman sighed. "So they had no choice but to hang the boy. But for me, there was nothin' left. No reason for a mill without my wife; nothin' to build a future for. Decided to try my hand at bringing in bad men the marshall's didn't have time…or motivation, I suppose…to bring in. I was always pretty good at tracking it back in Kentucky in those green mountain woods. So that's what I done. First I wasn't as careful as I was now, but I learned. Learned the only way I could take care of myself was to make sure my prisoner had no room to jump me. Didn't used to blindfold'em. But a couple of years ago after I brought in a rustler, he described me to his partner, who came after me in the night with a knife. Darned near killed me. So from then on, no one sees me; no one can pass on my particulars."
For awhile Loman didn't speak, and Heyes wondered if he'd fallen asleep or had just sunk deep down in his memories. "So," Loman finally said softly, "I've been doing this a pile of years now. It's better for me if I don't hear the sad stories of the men I take. They've always got somethin' to tell me to try to convince me I should let them go. I've got sick of hearing it. So now I don't want any talk around me. I am a quiet man and I just want to do my job. So Mr. Heyes, do you see now why I don't care to hear why I should set you free?"
Heyes nodded slightly, and listened as Loman moved about the campsite and ate his meal. Unexpectedly Loman came back over and threw a blanket over him.
"Gonna get cold tonight, I figure."
Gradually it became silent except for an occasional movement from the horses and a bird crying from far away.
Kid Curry had finally had it with waiting. Two days, no sign of Heyes. No word at the telegraph office. He had a bad feeling in his gut that he ought to be out looking for his partner. He checked out of the hotel and left a note, should Heyes turn up while he was out looking for him.
Joshua: Couldn't sit around. Had to go looking. Back in a week.
"Make sure my friend gets this," he instructed the clerk, and left him a dollar to encourage him. The man nodded and folded the note carefully into his vest pocket.
Curry mounted up and decided to head back up in the direction he'd come from, and if he couldn't find tracks, he'd veer east. That was where Heyes had spurred his horse towards. And, he thought uneasily, if Heyes had been captured, east was where Wyoming was, and where the bounty man might be headed.
Curry had no trouble finding where they'd separated; he remembered clearly it was where the Elk River made a ninety degree bend. There had been no rain in the past week, so with any luck he'd be able to pick up Heyes' trail. And sure enough, he quickly found their tracks; his heading north, Heyes veering off higher into the mountains.
At first it was tough going; Heyes was good at losing a posse. He'd been moving his horse at top speed, and for awhile Kid could pick up hoof prints and torn bushes to guide him along. He momentarily lost the tracks when Heyes moved into a shallow stream, but after hunting back and forth along the bank, he found more prints. This time it looked like more than one horse was on the trail, and Curry frowned. It looked like the bounty hunter had in fact gone after his partner.
Following two sets of horse tracks was easier than just one, so Curry started making good time. It was mid afternoon when he came to a wider stream, where the river bank was marked every which way with human and horse tracks. The kid saw the remainder of a campfire; someone had spent some time here without worrying about being seen, and he knew at once that someone wasn't Heyes. That had to mean what he feared; Heyes had been taken.
Now the tracks headed out along a trail that led northeast along the ridge line. There seemed to be two horses, and strangely, a set of boot heels. Another frown. Someone was walking, and he bet it was his partner. But the bounty man had taken Heyes' horse on a lead, so he realized the forced walk was intentional, as a way to keep his partner good and tired. Curry wanted to pick up speed, but he'd learned it was prudent to be slow and deliberate; he'd tracked a few hours when he came across another campground, and signs the horses had been staked to graze. This came as somewhat of a surprise. It was clear the bounty man had decided to forget about chasing down Kid Curry, and was going to settle for the one man he had already captured. And he seemed to be taking his time with it. Either he was supremely confident, or stupid. And Curry suspected the former.
Another lousy morning. As Heyes awoke he knew better than to try to move, though his arms and legs were screaming for a chance to stretch out. It seemed Loman was still asleep; at least there was no sound coming from the campfire.
Heyes wiggled his fingers carefully, testing at the bindings to see if he could find any give. He'd learned that with patience, he might loosen even the toughest knot. He just didn't know how much time he was going to have.
Heyes concentrated on what his fingers were encountering. A leather binding, and a very tight couple of knots. Heyes sighed inwardly. Even if he got the knot loose, he still needed to unlock the shackles and the chain. At least his pick was still in his boot, and Heyes had never met a lock he couldn't open.
Minutes passed, and he was starting to feel some give in the binding. His wrists were also bleeding from rubbing against the leather, but that was a small concern. He wondered what was going on with Loman. Was he still sleeping? From listening to Loman that night, he knew he wasn't a man to be careless. Heyes couldn't tell what time it was from behind his blindfold, but it felt to him like the sun was up. He tried to work more quickly, but his fingers were clumsy from being tied so long. He thought he felt the bond giving, when he heard a horse coming through the brush. Had Loman ridden off somewhere? How long had he been asleep?
He heard the rider dismount and then footsteps approach him. Someone squatted down next to him, reeking of stale sweat.
"Whoo-ee!" he heard a strange voice say. "What do we have here? All trussed up and ready for market like a lassoed calf."
The voice sounded familiar, and Heyes felt his stomach tighten. Suddenly a hand pulled off the blindfold. Heyes blinked to focus his eyes in the harsh morning light, and saw Tom Swane leering at him, a nasty tempered thief and rustler Heyes had run into while still leading the gang.
"Well well. If it ain't Hannibal Heyes. The great Hannibal Heyes."
"Swane," Heyes acknowledged. His voice was hoarse from lack of water.
Swane grinned. "Glad you recognize me," he said. He pushed Heyes over and inspected the bindings. "Someone got you lashed up real good here. Real professional."
"How about helping me out here, Swane?" Heyes tried. "For old time's sake."
Anger flashed over Swane's unshaven face, and he slapped Heyes heavily across the face. Heyes felt blood start to drip down his cheek. "What old times sake! Like that time you moved in ahead of me to take that bankroll down in Colorado?"
"What are you talking about?" Heyes said. He tried to still work at his bindings as they talked. Stall for time. And hope he'd find a way to use Swane's stupidity to set him free.
"Larchmont. Two years ago. I was all set to take the mining payroll. Someone tipped you off to my plans and you went in and took it yourself."
"I didn't know you …" Heyes was interrupted by another fist into his face.
"Sure you did," Swane spat. "One of my men lit out afore hand and found your gang. Thought he'd earn some extra cash with the information."
Heyes blinked, suddenly remembering. "You mean Cutter?"
Swane smirked. "Yeah. The former Red Cutter."
"I didn't know he was working with you."
Another fist connected. "How many times you want me to hit you, Heyes? Stop talkin' so dumb."
Swane stood up and looked around the campsite. "I saw the fire last night from where I was up in them cliffs. Thought I'd come down to see what was goin' on. I was hopin' for a cup of coffee. Not meetin' up with twenty-thousand dollars." He yanked experimentally on the chain binding Heyes to the tree. "Who caught you, Heyes? And where is he?"
'Ben Loman," Heyes said, trying not to gasp from the pull on his neck.
Swane's eyes widened. "The mysterious Ben Loman. No one knows what he looks like. Always takes in his prisoners blindfolded. He don't want any enemies knowin' what he looks like."
Swane pursed his lips and looked back and forth from Heyes to the tree. "Tell you what, Heyes. I'm gonna take you for myself. And don't look like there's much you can do about it."
"I never did you any harm," Heyes said as Swane reached behind him and cut the rope between his wrists and leg irons.
"Maybe not," Swane said. ""But becuz of you I lost money that should have been mine. Turnin' you in will even the score."
Swane picked up a hefty rock and smashed it at the lock holding the chain around the tree. After several swipes it broke off. Swane grunted in satisfaction and wrapped the chain around his wrist.
"My, my. I got a dancing bear at the end of a chain."
He pulled roughly and forced Heyes to his feet. "So, dance for me, Heyes." He laughed cruelly as he began lurching the lead back and forth. Heyes tried to keep his balance, but the added incumbrance of the leg irons made it impossible. Swane laughed as Heyes stumbled and fell to the ground, and kicked at him with his boot. "Stand up, dancing bear. "I ain't had enough fun yet." He continued kicking at him until Heyes managed to struggle off his back and to his feet.
The rough movement succeeded in loosening Heyes' wrist bindings just enough so that he could wrench his right hand free. He whipped his hand around from his back and grabbed onto the chain, pulling Swane towards him.
"What the?" Swane kicked out and almost dropped Heyes, but not before Heyes pulled the chain loose from Swane's hand. Heyes swung with it as if it were a club, aiming frantically for Swane's head. Swane howled in pain as the metal connected, and tried to duck out of the way. But Heyes was desperate. Loman could return at any moment, and this might be his only chance to break free.
Heyes coiled up the chain into a knot and desperately slammed it against Swane's neck. The outlaw shrieked and fell unconscious to the ground.
Heyes stood a moment, breathing heavily, feeling drops of blood dripping down to his neck and over his hands. There was no time to waste. He'd have to try to unlock the leg irons once he was far enough from the camp that Loman couldn't find him.
Kid Curry had just broken camp and was cinching on the saddle when the morning quiet was shattered by the unmistakable sound of a gun being fired. It sounded like it came up the mountain ridge a ways, no more than a few miles. Just one shot, and then more silence. Curry's stomach tightened. Had Heyes tried to get away? He mounted his horse and nudged it towards the trail, every sense alert for more sounds to help direct him on his way. He pushed his horse a little harder, now that he was sure he was exactly on the trail. Too much time was passing, and there too much he didn't know.
Heyes rushed desperately into the forest, knowing he was leaving tracks behind, but hoping he'd come upon some rocks or water that he could use to disguise his movement. He kept tripping over his shackles, falling repeatedly before struggling to his feet and pushing on. The lack of food from the past days had left him weak, and he was gasping hard as he lunged downhill, hoping to find level ground where he could make time. He started as he heard a gunshot behind him, from the direction of the campsite. He bet it was Loman who had fired; he thought a moment about Swane's fate, but thought more about how soon Loman would be picking up his tracks. Heyes had no idea where he was or where he was heading, but he he knew he had to keep moving. He saw an outcropping of large boulders ahead, and made a beeline for them. Rocks would hide boot prints. He scrambled up between two large boulders and stopped a moment to catch his breath, looking around anxiously for any sign of Loman. So far, so good.
No time for thinking. Press forward. He saw a small stream coursing down towards the valley off to his right, and headed toward it eagerly. He had a terrible thirst. But suddenly his neck was yanked back powerfully, and he fell gasping onto his back. Painfully, he turn over to see what was holding him, and saw the end of chain had lodged itself in aa rock crevice. Heyes swore, and crawled up the rock to try to yank it loose. He swore again. It was too tight. He needed something to pry it free. He looked around frantically, wishing for a knife or a something sharp. Nothing. He pulled at the chain, desperate now. Until he heard the click of a rifle.
"All right then, Mr. Heyes."
Loman.
"I've got you clear as day in my sights. You understand?"
Heyes froze, then nodded.
"I want you to lay down and stretch out those hands way above your head. And I don't want you to move."
Heyes slowly obeyed, feeling his heart pounding in his chest from the exertion of his run, and from desperation. His minutes of freedom had been far too brief. He heard Loman's boot heels over the rocks as he closed in behind him.
"Hands behind your back now, Mr. Heyes. You know the drill."
For a bleak moment Heyes wondered if it wouldn't be better to just go for Loman and end it here and now. But there was still a faint chance the Kid might find him. He had to hope for that; it was the only thing that would keep him going. Heyes slowly obeyed and felt the familiar tightening of leather around his cut wrists.
"You've made a fine mess of things," Loman said. "Look here, you've rubbed your skin raw and your hands are bleeding. Gonna make these bindings even nastier, but there's nothin' to do for it. " He turned Heyes over, and Heyes was startled to see Loman wearing a face mask.
"Can't have you seeing what I look like," Loman explained. He uncorked his canteen and wetted his kerchief, and then dabbed the blood off of Heyes' face. "Who was that fellah back there?" he asked.
Heyes started to answer, but bit back his words. He wasn't sure what rules were being played now.
Loman chuckled. "Oh, you can go ahead and answer me," he said. "I'm kinda curious."
"Tom Swane," Heyes said hoarsely.
"Old colleague?"
Heyes grimaced. "I don't think I'd call him that."
Loman folded the kerchief and put it into his vest pocket. "Well, he's dead now. Put up a fight when I rode back into the campsite." He raised the canteen to Heyes' mouth and let him take a few generous swallows.
"Where were you off to?" Heyes asked.
"Hunting," Loman said. "And now, that's the last word from you, hear?"
Loman unwound a cloth from his jacket pocket and wrapped it tightly around Heyes' eyes. Not a shimmer of light came through, and Heyes sighed.
"All right now," Loman said. "Let's get back to the horses and move along."
Heyes heard as Loman managed to maneuver the chain free from the rocks, and then felt the familiar hands pull him to his feet. They'd taken maybe a dozen steps when Loman pushed him to the ground, and he felt him working again with the chain.
"Okay now. You and this pine branch are gonna be good buddies for an hour or so. I don't want to haul you back up that mountain. So you just sit quietly here while I break down the camp and get the horses set to go. Don't worry, nobody else is gonna see you . You're well hidden and you even got some shade. I reckon I should bury old Swane. Only proper thing to do, don't you think?"
Heyes listened to Loman's receding boot steps and tugged with his head to see if he could yank the chain loose, but Loman was true to his word. Once again he saw no way he could break free.
Heyes was awakened from a doze…or unconsciousness…by the release of pressure from the chain. He slumped onto the dirt. He heard the snort from a horse.
"You with me?" Loman asked.
Heyes nodded. "Hey, Loman," he said without thinking, "I have a suggestion."
There was a long pause. And then Loman sighed. "Now, Mr. Heyes, I thought we had an agreement. You were not to speak to me. Even now. I don't want to hear your plans. Or your suggestions."
Suddenly Heyes felt a wad of cloth thrust into his mouth, and then another cloth wrapped it firmly in place.
"So we're going to have to return to how we were," Loman said. "And I am truly sorry. But I am a man of my word. I said you would not be gagged if you didn't speak. And now you speak. And I don't care to hear you speak."
The wad felt like it was choking him. Heyes tried to breathe through his nose, and found himself gasping for air. He felt Loman's hand grabbing his hair.
"No sympathy here, Mr. Heyes. You take a few slow breaths. Easy. You'll get enough air."
Heyes forced himself to obey. A slow drawing in and out of breath. He felt his heart slow from its panicked breathing.
"And now," Loman said, "I am afraid there are consequences for your trying to escape. I have deprived you of your sight. And of your speech. But you are a wily opponent, and I can see you will use everything to seek an advantage. So I fear I must deprive you of your hearing as well."
Heyes jerked his head away from Loman. What did he mean? He felt a surge of panic rise up inside him.
Then he felt as Loman pressed a wad of cotton cloth into first his right ear, and then his left. He tried to twist away, but Loman grabbed his forehead and wound another cloth tightly around his face. And then there was silence.
Heyes heard no sound to warn him as Loman lifted him suddenly and pulled him back toward the horse. Heyes felt he was in a vacuum, completely disoriented. With no sight or sound to guide him, he was completely at Loman's mercy. He felt the chain pull, and knew he had to move. The horse stepped out, and pulled Heyes behind it for he didn't know how long, until the motion stopped. He was unchained and then his neck was refastened to his arms and legs. There were no words to reassure him or explain what was going on. The only way he knew it was night was when the sun was no longer beating on his head.
He smelled rather than heard the fire lighting. He smelled what he thought was a fish frying. His stomach contracted. But he was totally divorced from his surroundings. He jerked back in startlement as his gag was suddenly pulled loose, and a canteen thrust into his mouth. He took some eager gulps before it was pulled away. Then a spoonful of beans was forced into his mouth. He swallowed several times, and his stomach growled gratefully. Surprisingly, a bit of fish was thrust into his mouth. Trout. He chewed it hungrily. Then another gulp of water, and the gag was returned.
Heyes had never known such isolation. The next morning, to his relief, Loman once again removed the gag and didn't replace it. Heyes vowed to himself he would keep his mouth shut this time. More time passed. A nudge in the ribs signalled morning. He was allowed a few private moments, but then his hands were chained back behind him. He was given a few swallows of water; a few bites of beans, or bacon, or fish. Whatever was on offer. Loman never released the cloth from his ears or bothered to speak to him. As the hours passed he was tethered to the horse and pulled forward. He'd lost track of time; he was exhausted, and knew Wyoming neared. He'd given up trying to figure a way to break free.
It was mid day. The hot sun was beating down on his shoulders and it was difficult to put one foot in front of another. He kept tripping, then finding his balance, then tripping again. Heyes knew he was weak from lack of food; he also knew that Loman simply didn't care. He was giving him just enough food to keep him moving, and that was all that mattered.
Suddenly Heyes felt a violent, unexpected lurch, and the horse pulling him seemed to stagger and then fall over to the left. Heyes was helpless as he felt the animal roll down a steep incline, pulling him with it. The noose on his neck tightened terribly; he gasped for air; dust and rocks and scrub brush banged into his face. It was eerily silent, but he could imagine the horse shrieking and the sound of rocks scattering. And then there was nothing.
The trail had turned very steep, and Curry was thinking he should stop and give his tired horse a chance to eat some of the plentiful wild grasses and drink some much needed water, when he heard a horse's whinny. His own horse perked up his ears and whinnied back, as if he knew the another animal. Curry pulled up on the reins and drew his gun. Could the bounty man be up ahead? He listened intently, but didn't hear anything except wind in the pines, and the harsh shriek of a circling eagle. Carefully, he nudged his mount to where the other horse seemed to be. He came into a small clearing and pulled up short. It was Heyes' mare! The saddle was on her, along with what looked like Heyes' saddle roll. Then he spotted Heyes' black hat looped around the pommel. His stomach tightened again. Where was the second horse, and where was his partner? And where was the bounty man?
He looked around with every sense alert, wondering if the animal was being use to lure him in. But he seemed alone in the clearing, and his sixth sense wasn't warning him to get out of there. So he nudged his horse over to the mare, and grabbed hold of her reins.
"How'd you get here, girl?" he asked aloud. "Where's your rider?"
The only direction the horse could have come from was straight on up the trail. Curry was more cautious now; if the bounty man had been leading the mare for so long, and now suddenly wasn't, this meant a mystery he needed to figure out. He could only hope the answers didn't lie too far ahead.
When Heyes came to, he was face down on some dry grass. For a moment he couldn't remember why he was there, and then it all came back to him: the terrifying, silent free fall. He wondered where Loman was. Wondered what had caused the horse to go down. Gingerly, he wiggled to a sitting position and took stock of himself. Miraculously, he didn't seem to have broken anything, though his bound hands throbbed from where they'd banged against rocks and hard dirt. The chain connecting his neck to the horse was still taut. Heyes inched along it, feeling his way awkwardly with his bound hands, and found the warm body of the horse. He felt around clumsily, and discovered the chain was jammed under the saddle pommel beneath the animal. Try as he might, he was too weak to lift the horse off of the chain. The horse was heavy, and he was encumbered by trying to work backwards with hands already dulled and aching from the fall.
Heyes sighed. Where was Loman? He couldn't hear anything. No birds. No heaving horses. No heavy breathing or words from his captor.
He inched carefully back down the links of the chain, hoping it was leading him to level ground and not another sharp cliff. He groped about clumsily, and then connected with what felt like a jacket. Loman's jacket! He yanked it, and called out. "Loman!" The words sounded muffled in his ears. "Loman! You hear me?" He tugged again at the sleeve. And then he felt movement. "Loman!' he said more urgently. "You gotta wake up now. We are in a fix."
He continued to pull and tug at the clothing. Suddenly something…Loman's hands…reached out and pulled him to the ground. The binding around his ears was torn loose, and the sound of the wind, the world , assaulted him. Heyes gasped.
"Heyes." Loman's voice sounded anything but well. Gurgling. As if he had blood in his throat.
"You all right?" Heyes asked. He hoped the speaking rules had been suspended.
There was a pause. "Wouldn't say that," Loman finally admitted. "Got something poking into my back. Can't feel my legs."
Heyes wiggled back towards him and felt around behind the vest. He encountered blood. Too much blood. His insides twisted in fear.
"You gotta cut my hands free," he said urgently. "I can't help you unless I can move."
Loman gave a choking sound. "And why would you want to help me, Mr. Heyes?"
Heyes sighed. "Because if I don't help you… I don't help ME. I'm stuck here, Loman."
Heyes listened as Loman gasped for breath. "I'm real sorry, Mr. Heyes. I can't find my knife. I can't cut you free."
Heyes sagged. "If you can't cut me free, we're both dead men."
They both listened to the wind, an occasional bird, the sounds of life.
"I can't," Loman finally admitted. His voice was fainter. "I'm right sorry, Heyes. I must admit, you're an upright fellah."
"Who's gonna die," Heyes said flatly.
He heard Loman draw a pained, congested breath. He imagined Loman's lungs were full of blood.
"I'm sorry. Never brought a prisoner back dead."
"Until now," Heyes completed.
He heard another painful gurgle, and then Loman's body stiffened.
Heyes sat for a moment, strangely sad about Loman, and then angry that Loman's death probably meant his own. He couldn't unfasten the chain connected to the horse until he cut loose the bindings around his wrist. Without a knife, he couldn't cut the bindings. He couldn't even reach back and grab Loman's gun and shoot himself to shorten the agony ahead.
Heyes let out a frustrated breath, and sank back into the dirt. "Ashes to ashes," he thought, but never thought it would be like this. Slowly, the light faded.
Curry kept his horse to a careful walk as he made his way along the ridge trail. It dropped off sharply on his right side; to his left the mountain continued to rise up steeply.
Then he saw it. Torn brush and hacked up dirt; clear signs someone or some THING had fallen. He peered down off the trail, and his heart stopped. Maybe forty feet below he could see a horse lying on its side, clearly dead. Next to the horse, two still bodies.
"Heyes!" he called out, to him, and thought he saw his partner move. "I'm comin!"
Curry hurriedly dismounted, wrapped the reins around a tree branch, grabbed his cantten, and carefully slid more than walked down to where his partner lay. He saw the horse had clearly broken its leg, but otherwise not much made sense. He quickly took in the chain around Heyes' neck and the fact that he was tied up and blindfolded. A glance at the second man showed he was dead; blood had matted to his chest and drenched the dirt beside him.
"Heyes!" Curry urged. He pulled his knife from the scabbard and quickly cut through the bonds around Heyes' wrists, frowning at how raw and red they looked.
Heyes stirred. "Kid?" he asked weakly.
Kid brought the canteen to his partner's mouth, and Heyes took several hungry swallows.
Curry laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here, I'm here. You hurt anywhere more'n what I can see?"
Slowly Heyes moved his hands from behind his back, wincing at his pulled sore muscles. "Think I'm all right," he said. He started to sit up, and was quickly assisted by the kid.
"Let me get this thing off your neck," Curry said, and Heyes held still while he felt the leather being cut. It was a huge relief when Curry pulled it away, and Heyes rubbed his sore neck gratefully.
"How do I get these shackles off you?" Curry asked.
"Maybe the key is in one of his pockets. I couldn't see where he stashed it."
Curry searched gingerly through the dead man's clothing, and finally found a small key. He leaned over and carefully unlocked the restraints, and threw them off to the side. "Let me get this blindfold off ya."
Heyes reached out his hand and stopped him. "No," he said softly.
Curry sat back on his haunches. "What?"
"That's Ben Loman."
Curry gave a soft whistle. "Heard of him. From the looks of you, I guess he's as tough as they say."
"He never wanted me to see what he looks like," Heyes said. "I think I'll honor that. Think you could set me somewhere out of the way while you bury him?"
Curry looked thoughtfully at his partner, then back at Loman.
"He has a shovel in his pack. He buried Tom Swane a couple of days ago."
"You got a lot to tell me, Heyes," Curry said as he eased his partner over to the base of a tree and leaned him up against it.
"Later," Heyes said. "I am so damned hungry I could spit. And I want a bath. And a shave."
"Yes SIR," Curry teased. To his relief, Heyes' lips twitched in the barest of smiles. He went over to the horse to retrieve the shovel, and tugged thoughtfully at the chain, putting the pieces together. Heyes must have spent one hell of a week. He glanced over at his quiet partner resting against the tree trunk, and wondered what was going on inside that head of his. Maybe he didn't want to know.
It was hard work on the solid ground, but he got the grim job done and walked back to his partner. "Pity to bury a man out here," he said.
"Loman had no family. No one to miss him."
Curry laid a hand on Heyes' shoulder. "Not like us," he said softly.
Heyes nodded, and slowly reached up to pull off the blindfold. He blinked to adjust to the light, and stared in relief at his partner. Curry didn't think he'd ever seen his eyes so tired before. Wordlessly, Heyes looked around him. At the dead horse. The discarded chain. The blood still on the ground. He got unsteadily to his feet.
"Your horse is up there," Curry informed him. "That's partly how I found you."
Heyes nodded, looking at the bandana he was still holding. Slowly, he wrapped it back around his eyes.
"Heyes? What in tarnation are you doin'?"
Heyes concentrated on knotting it tightly. "Do ya mind helping me to my horse?" he asked quietly. "There's too much ugliness here. There's been nothing BUT ugly for too many days. That's all I can see. And I don't want to."
Curry frowned, but looped Heyes' arm around him as he carefully guided him back up the steep incline, and then boosted him onto his saddle. Heyes weaved a moment before he found his balance and held on tightly to the pommel. Curry took the reins and tied them to his own horse as he mounted, and led the way back towards the small lake he remembered spotting a few miles back.
By the time they got there it was late afternoon. Heyes had fallen asleep miles before, and was hunched deeply over his saddle, oblivious to anything going on around him.
Curry found a quiet spot to set up camp, and carefully laid out his blanket and saddle roll. He turned to Heyes and gently lifted him off his horse and laid him down on the blanket, so his face was looking out at the blue water.
He kept an eye on his partner while he built a fire, started some coffee, and threw a fishing line out into the lake hoping for a hungry fish to come by. Then Kid Curry sat and contemplated. He watched the sun glinting off the water, and watched as a large trout leapt into the air snapping for an insect. Then, carefully, he knelt beside Heyes and delicately took the blindfold off. Heyes' eyes were closed in sleep. The sun began to go down, sending brilliant red rays bouncing off the pine trees lining the shoreline. Two Canadian geese settled down for the night, honking conversationally to each other.
Curry heard his partner stir and then give a deep sigh.
"Thanks, Jed," Heyes murmured. "This is beautiful."