Like Lightning from the Sky

Part 1 of 5

For Hannibal Heyes, the past month had not been going well. First, he and Kid had almost been recognized in Phoenix. Then, on their way to Denver, it took them several days to shake an ambitious bounty hunter. Now, as they rode through the Wyoming territory they saw the posse. At least, Heyes thought, they're not after us. From a high vantage point he and Kid Curry had a bird's eye view of the drama that unfolded beneath them. Each outlaw felt a sense of pity towards the bandits. However, if they were honest, they would admit they preferred the role of observers over that of active participants.

"Poor fellas, never knew what hit 'em." Kid remarked

"Idiots. They stopped that train way too close to its next stop. They were begging to be caught."

"I suppose." Down below, they saw the bandits pass in front of them, but they were too far away to be able to properly identify them. "You still got those binoculars?"

Heyes turned towards his saddle bag and, after some riffling, pulled out a pair of worn out binoculars with a broken strap and one lens missing. "Not sure if they're any good, they broke about a month ago."

Kid peered through the one side that was still intact. His eyes widened as he recognized the lead bandit. "Heyes, you're not going to believe this." Quickly, he passed the glasses back to his partner.

Through the looking glass Heyes saw what had captured Kid's attention. It was undeniable; leading the pack was none other than their former gang member, Wheat Carlson. Heyes took in a deep breath, "Well, all we can do is hope they are better at getting away from a posse than they were avoiding one."

Within moments, they watched a bullet find its mark. With a scream, the tail man fell sideways to the ground as his horse continued its trot. Heyes put the glass back up to his eye, "It's Kyle."

Frozen, the two watched the scene unfold. Two of the boys stopped momentarily, but as another bullet nearly made a successful attack, they were quick to realize that the posse was gaining too much ground; realizing the futility of any rescue attempt they spurred their horses and caught back up with the rest of the gang. As the posse approached the fallen man, one of the men stopped. Quickly satisfied with what he saw, he remounted and continued the chase.

"Heyes, we've got to get down there."

Heyes shifted uncomfortably, "They'll lose them in Nocturn's Bend, that posse will be back here before we can even get down there."

"Heyes!"

Both men were breathing hard. "I know, I know. Fine, I'll go down there. You get back to Devil's Hole; tell them I'm taking Kyle for help. You just keep Wheat from doing anything stupid, again."

Heyes quickly spurred his horse, and within minutes made it to the injured man's side. Curled in the fetal position, he clutched his left side as a small pool of blood formed on the ground. Kneeling beside him, Heyes rolled him to his back and gently moved his jacket to the side for a better look. Instinctively, Kyle went for his gun, "Whoa now, it's alright." Too weak to resist, he shut his eyes, wincing from the pain. Slowly, Heyes removed Kyle's gun from the holster and put it on the ground behind him. With quick assessment, he could see the exit wound and felt confident that the bullet only travelled through fatty tissue. He knew it wasn't a fatal injury, provided of course, the bleeding could be staunched before too much was lost. Heyes removed his own bandana and pressed it against the wound; in response, Kyle screamed out in pain.

Kyle's eyes flew open and as he focused through his agony, he slowly recognized who was kneeling beside him, "Heyes?"

"Can you ride?"

"Heyes, it hurts. It hurts real bad." A lone tear escaped Kyle's eye. With a bloody hand, he wiped it away. Trying to be strong, he asked, "I'm gonna die, aren't I Heyes?"

"No Kyle, you're not. We just need to get you to a doctor."

"Oh, I would think a jail cell would be more appropriate."

Heyes quietly cursed himself for not hearing the beat of hooves as the posse returned. Slowly rising, with hands in the air, he turned and faced the men. There were seven in all. Each had his gun pointed directly at him. On the leader's chest hung a tin star, the deputy, "Good evening, my name is…"

"Hannibal Heyes, leader of the Devil's Hole gang. And you, Mr. Heyes, are under arrest." He turned to the man to his right, "Andrew, get his firearm. Boys, we got ourselves a bonus, not only did we get one of the boys in the gang, but looks like we've captured ourselves the head of the snake."

Heyes looked down as Kyle grew paler by the moment, "This man is injured, I'm assuming that you will send a man ahead to fetch a doctor."

The man laughed, "Whatever for?"

The man's carefree attitude about a man's life surprised Heyes, "If you don't, he will bleed to death."

The deputy shrugged, "One less mouth for the system to feed."

A small murmur came from Kyle, "I don't wanna die."

Heyes's eyes darkened as one of the posse tied his hands behind his back, "His name is Kyle Murtree, wanted for $400, alive. If you let him die, it'll be murder."

The deputy walked up and stood just a few feet from Heyes, "No sir, he was shot while trying to escape apprehension. I guess that would be what educated people call an occupational risk. But when we get into town, I'll let the Doc know he's hurt, but I don't see Doc Samson bein' too keen on helpin' a good fer nothin' outlaw."

Rage built within Heyes as they forced him back up on his horse. Unable to sit up, they draped Kyle across the saddle for the ride back into town. As they rode over rough terrain, Kyle would moan with each bump and dip. With each cry of agony, the posse would laugh and snicker. Blocking out the sounds of inhuman consideration, Heyes instead focused on learning everything he could about what had transpired over the past few hours. The deputy wasn't very forthcoming, especially since he refused to believe that Heyes wasn't a part of the robbery, but through the jeers he discovered that the train had been stopped for a federal payroll. However, anticipating such an attack, the train carried one of the newest and strongest safes on the market. The boys had attempted to blow it with dynamite, but it was to no avail. Before they were able to consider an alternate course of action, the posse arrived.

In Rock Springs, the sheriff wasted no time placing the men in one of the corner cells. Before the door could even be closed, Heyes removed the sheet from a spare cot and created a makeshift bandage, wrapping the cloth tight around Kyle's injured side. After what felt like an eternity, Sheriff Windmiller finally returned. As the older, large man walked through the security door, Heyes knew that the news wasn't good. The man could barely contain his own amusement as he approached the captive men.

Heyes stood up and walked to the bars, "Is there something funny?"

"Yeah, just came back from Doc Samson's place. Said he wouldn't treat a lousy outlaw if his life depended on it. That's what happens when your lot robs innocent men. They tend to hold a grudge. Guess your friend is just plum outta luck."

Heyes seethed, "If he dies, Sheriff, you'll be the one out of luck."

From behind the door, the deputy called, "Sheriff, the prisoners have a visitor."

Heyes watched as he left the room. He had wondered when the Kid would finally arrive. With a sideways glance back to an unconscious Kyle, he began to wonder if it was already too late.

When Kid entered, he wore his best gray suit and hat, appearing as respectable as possible. Though hidden from anyone that didn't know him, Heyes could see the concern behind the blue eyes. The Sheriff smirked, "You got ten minutes."

Kid tipped his hat and then turned to Heyes, "Good evening Mr. Heyes. My name is Thaddeus Jones, Attorney." At the sound of the door locking, he relaxed and spoke softly, "How's is he?"

Heyes whispered, "The doctor in town refuses to treat outlaws. I think I've got the bleeding to slowdown, but he's fading fast. Where are the rest of the boys?"

"Wheat sent them back to the Hole. I ran into him and Lobo as they were on their way here. I sent them to the saloon to wait."

Heyes turned and took a moment to think. Returning to the bars, he whispered. "Alright, have Lobo go over to Sheridan and get Doc Mathis, he owes me a favor. Then, I want you to tell the sheriff that you've found a doctor that'll treat Kyle. If all goes as planned, we'll be out of here within the hour."

As Kid and Wheat made their way towards the Sheriff's office, Wheat stopped midstride, obviously nervous. "Kid, I'm not so sure about this."

"Wheat, as long as you give yourself away, it'll work."

Next to Kid, Wheat stood dressed in a tight black suit and hat. The suit stretched tight over an overinflated gut that Kid had created with a pillow from the hotel. His hair was slicked back and spectacles held tight to the face that was at least one size too large. In his right hand, he carried a bag that Kid had lifted from the local doctor's office.

Once inside the jail, Kid walked up to the sheriff's desk. "Sheriff Windmiller, this is Doctor Hampton from Denver. He has kindly agreed to see the prisoner."

Wheat stood up and puffed out his chest with overt bravado, "That's right, I'm Doctor Hampton."

Suspicious, Windmiller looked over the new man. "Well, I suppose, but we'll have to search the both of you first. Though I don't know why you would want to treat an outlaw."

Slightly offended, Wheat stated loudly, "Well, Sheriff, I took the hypercratic oath: do no evil."

Shaking his head, Windmiller directed his deputy to Kid, while he examined Wheat. As he moved around Wheat's waist, a puzzled look crossed over his face. Wheat gave a nervous laugh, "I wouldn't press too hard Sheriff; all I had for supper this evening was a can of beans and stewed tomatoes."

Pausing for a moment, Windmiller rethought his movements and instead gave a gentle pat down. After rummaging through the doctor's bag and finding nothing, he proclaimed, "Alright, you're clean." Turning to his deputy, he pointed back towards the door, "You wait outside, while I take these two in." As they walked back into the holding cells, he announced, "Look alive boys, a doctor is here to see you."

Allowing Wheat into the cell, Windmiller kept Kid on the outside, close to him. Bent over Kyle, Heyes asked, "Well, what do you think, doc?"

With his front hidden, Wheat slowly unbuttoned the front of his shirt. Underneath, there was a slit in the pillow. He tried to speak as formally as possible, "Well, it appears that he, uh, has been shot."

Heyes took a deep breath, "Is there anything that you can do for him?"

"Well, I think there might be something I can do." Wheat slowly pulled a gun from within the pillow.

Before he was able to pull it all the way out, Kyle opened his eyes and called out, "Wheat?"

With their cover blown, Heyes grabbed the gun and pointed it at Windmiller, who quickly backed towards the door, "Where are you going Sheriff?"

"You won't get away with this Heyes." He spoke, darkly.

"Oh, I think I will. Mr. Jones, how many men does the good Sheriff have guarding this building?"

"Just the deputy out front."

"Sheriff, if you wouldn't mind placing your gun on the ground and throwing your keys to Mr. Jones."

"I don't think so." He scoffed.

Heyes looked at him with disbelief, "Need I remind you that I'm the one with the gun?"

"You won't shoot me Heyes. It's a fact that you've never shot anyone, I don't see you doing it now."

Heyes's eyes turned black. Addressing Kid, he commanded, "Mr. Jones, would you be kind enough to relieve the Sheriff of his keys, you can just hand them to my friend here." He motioned towards Wheat at his right.

As Kid walked towards Windmiller, he began to draw. With lightning reflex, Heyes fired his gun and hit the man in his shoulder. Kid picked up the fallen gun and once securely armed, grabbed the keys from his belt and tossed them to Heyes. Immediately, the deputy came through the door. With two guns on him, he solemnly held up his hands in defeat. As Heyes came out of the cell, the Kid ushered in the deputy and sheriff and made haste gagging and tying the two men. As they walked out of the cell, Wheat steadied a half-conscious Kyle.

Retrieving their firearms from the sheriff's desk, Heyes glanced out the door, and then turned to his men. "Alright Wheat, you take Kyle to meet up with Lobo. Kid and I will go the other way; hopefully the posse will follow us. We'll meet back up at Devil's Hole as soon as we can."

Outside, they quickly made their way to the horses stashed behind the saloon. Too weak to ride on his own, Wheat steadied Kyle on a shared horse as they quietly rode north. Kid and Heyes, instead, rode in the opposite direction. As they passed the saloon, Kid tipped his hat to one of the girls standing on the porch; hoping that if asked, she would say "the strangers rode south."

An hour later, Kid and Heyes climbed a slight cliff and looked back in the direction of town. To their delight, the trail was posse free. Climbing back into their saddles, Kid asked, "I suppose this isn't going to help our amnesty?"

Heyes looked down at the reins he was holding. Righting himself in the saddle a bit, he answered, "Probably not, that's why I'm going to go explain things to Lom."

"Okay, I'm sure after we tell him…"

"No Kid, you're going back to Devil's Hole to check on Kyle." Kid shot him a confused look. "If the amnesty is lost, it's because of me. There's no need for you to lose your amnesty just because of what I did."

"If you hadn't, he would have shot me."

"I know, and I'll explain that to him. Besides, if it doesn't work out, I'm going to need you out here, ready to break me out if Lom does decide to arrest me."

The rest of the way they rode in silence. Kid could tell that his friend was worried. Not only was he worried, he was scared. Heyes bein' scared worried him. Cause Heyes didn't scare easily.

When they came to the crossroads they stopped their horses. "Well, Kid, this is it. If everything goes well, I'll send a telegram into Harris Town."

"And if'n it don't?"

Heyes shifted, and made a vain attempt at a smile, "I guess I'll figure it out then." There was a tense moment of silence, and then with a parting farewell, the two rode off in opposite directions. As they both rode, each had a sense of dread in the pit of their stomachs.

The sun was just beginning to come up as Heyes came into Porterville. From across the square he watched as Lom Trevors entered the Sheriff's office. In his hand he carried a newspaper. By the look on his face, the story of the jailbreak was on the front page. Heyes gave him a few minutes to get settled and then walked into the office. Once there, he was barely noticed. Lom sat at his desk, reading. I was right, right on the front page, Heyes thought.

Heyes moved to position himself in front of the desk, "Lom." Slowly, he looked up and rose, after it set in who was standing in front of him, he made a quick glance at his side door. "I came alone."

"I suppose you're here to explain what happened in Rock Springs?"

Heyes relaxed and took off his hat, "Well, it's pretty simple. Wheat and the boys were trying to escape a posse and Kyle got shot. We both got arrested while I was trying to help him. Turns out, neither the sheriff nor the town's Doc cared about an outlaw bleedin' to death, so… I arranged a jail break."

"And at some point, you decided to fire your gun?"

"I didn't want to! I told Kid to get the keys and Windmiller started to draw!"

Lom let out a mournful sigh and sat down, "The Governor has already heard about this. I got a telegram this morning ordering me to arrest the two of you. He's also placed a warrant out for attempted murder."

"I hit him in the arm; I wasn't trying to kill him!"

"Heyes, it doesn't matter. You shot an officer of the law during a jailbreak. Smuggling in the gun shows intent to commit murder; discharging your weapon just proved it."

"There wouldn't have been a jailbreak if he had just gotten a doctor for Kyle. You know that we couldn't stand by and let him bleed to death."

"Heyes, I understand your loyalty to those boys, but you crossed the line when you fired your gun. I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do."

Heyes leaned one hand on the desk, "Yes there is. Go to the Governor. Explain to him how Windmiller was gonna just sit back and let Kyle die – a man that is not wanted dead or alive." Heyes stood back up and brushed a piece of dust from his hat. "While you're at it, tell him the Kid wasn't involved."

"What?"

"C'mon Lom. Tell him it was someone else; no one can prove it was him. If I've lost my amnesty, fine, but there is no reason for the Kid to lose his too. I shot Windmiller, he didn't."

Lom ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Fine, I'll try. There's a train going to Cheyenne this afternoon, I'll be on it."

Heyes breathed a sigh of relief knowing that if anyone could convince the Governor, it would be Lom. After saying his goodbye, Heyes wired Kid with the update, and told him to stay put for further news. As he stood there, a telegraph came in.

Dear Mr. Smith

Your friend is in stable, but guarded condition

Will hopefully have full recovery within a month's time

Hope things are working out for you

Look forward to hearing word from Porterville

Sincerely

Thaddeus Jones

Heyes spent the following few days playing poker and resisting the urge to hightail it to Mexico. As luck would have it, the players in Porterville liked to bet high stakes on low odds and Heyes welcome both the money and the distraction. When Lom finally arrived back in town Heyes was waiting, as requested, in his office to see him. With one glance from his old friend, he knew things didn't go as he had hoped. Lom leaned against the door, closing it. Heyes asked, "Well?"

Lom took in and let out a deep breath, "The Governor didn't understand."

"Didn't you tell him about Windmiller and Kyle?"

Lom walked towards his desk, "Yes I did, and he agreed to send a man to investigate."

"What about the Kid?"

Lom rifled through some papers on his desk, desperate not to meet his friend's eyes, "As it stands, the deal is off, for the both of you."

Heyes leaned in, "What do you mean, as it stands?"

"Well, the Governor is willing to make another deal. Something called a plea bargain."

Heyes's eyes brightened, "Well, that's better than nothing, let's do this plea bargain."

"You might not want to after I tell you what is involved. He is willing to keep the deal with the Kid…"

"That's great!"

"But you have to turn yourself in and plead guilty to all charges. Because of the extenuating circumstances with Windmiller, he will drop the charge of attempted murder and let a judge decide your sentence. Once in prison, Kid cannot even attempt to break you out without forfeiting his own amnesty."

Heyes turned and walked to the window, "And if I don't agree to this?"

"Then you will both remain wanted men for armed robbery and attempted murder."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to think on that one a bit."

Lom understood, "Take tonight, he wants an answer by noon tomorrow."

In a daze, Heyes slowly meandered over to the saloon. There, he ordered a drink, and then another. Knowing his options were limited, he downed a third shot of whisky. They'd spent so many years avoiding bloodshed, and in one moment, it was all for nothing.

From behind, a saloon girl put a hand on his upper thigh. Her dress was a bright blue and exposed a great deal of her full figured body. He figured she was probably in her mid to late twenties, even though she looked about thirty five. Her make-up was heavy to hide the years of damage that her job had caused.

"Well, if you're just gonna stand there and stare…."

As she turned to leave, Heyes grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, "No, perhaps you are just what I need." With the speed of a whip snake, he pulled her into an embrace, probing the depths of her mouth, imprinting every sensation to memory. He decided that if he was going to lose his freedom, he might as well enjoy his last night of it.

As Heyes left the hotel the following morning, he went directly to the telegraph office and sent a request for Kid to come to Porterville immediately. Stepping out into the morning air, he looked up at the bright sun burning above and wondered how long it would be until he once again felt the gentle whisper of freedom.

With his head slightly hung, he made his way to see his dear friend and tried to muster a courage that he did not feel. As soon as he entered the Sheriff's office, Lom stood to greet him. Taking the gun from Heyes's outstretched hand, he sighed, "Part of me was hoping you would just ride off and I'd never see you again."

Removing his gun belt, Heyes walked over to the cell. Opening the door, Lom placed a hand on Heyes's shoulder as he passed through the doorway. Sitting on the cot, Heyes held his head in his hands as he stared at the floor, "When's the trial?"

"I'll go speak to the judge now, but probably in the next day or two. Have you contacted the Kid?"

"Just wired him."

"I'll hold off on letting the paper know until he gets here. Also, I'm not planning on deputizing any extra men; I wouldn't want to waste the city's money or anything."

Heyes understood exactly what Lom was getting at and merely nodded. After hearing the door close, he laid on the cot and stared at the ceiling.

This was it.

As he thought back over the years, the threat of prison had always been there, but he always knew he would somehow get out of it. This time was different; this time there was no hope of escape because he couldn't allow it. This was Kid's only chance at freedom.

Explaining all of this to Kid was another problem. He'd just have to convince him that this was for the best. First, however, he'd have to convince himself.

It was late in the day as Kid pulled his horse up to the hitching rail. As he opened the office door his eyes immediately went to the cell, and to Heyes lying on the cot. Putting down the paper he was reading, Lom rose to greet him with his hand out, but Kid refused to shake it. "Kid, I'm glad you're here."

Kid just glared at the man he had considered his friend, "Why is he in there?"

Glancing over at Heyes, "You two need to talk." He turned to address Heyes, "I'll be back in an hour or so, I'll be over at the saloon. If you need anything, you are just going to have to wait until I get back."

Heyes smiled at Lom's attempt to give him a chance to escape.

Kid rounded on Heyes, who stood to face him. "What the hell was that about?"

"Kid, it's a long story, grab a chair."

As Kid listened, it was nothing but utter disbelief that kept him silent as Heyes explained the situation. After he finished, Kid's confusion turned to anger. "Why didn't you wait till I got here to turn yourself in?"

"Cause I knew you'd try to talk me out of it."

"You're damn right I would!" Kid stood up quickly, forcing the chair he was sitting in to fly backwards. "I'm your partner, remember?"

Heyes tried to be firm. "I didn't have a choice. Attempted murder is a hanging offense, you know that. You know how hard they chase us for robbing a couple of banks. Just think of how much harder they'd be chasing us for this."

"What about Mexico or South America?"

Heyes laughed half-heartedly, "When did you learn South American?"

"This ain't funny Heyes."

"No Kid, it's not." Turning, Heyes returned to the vacated cot.

"I think you're yella."

A flash of anger passed over Heyes' eyes, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. All these years, you've let me do the shootin'. All these years, you've let me be the one with blood on my hands, while you just stood back and did the talkin'. And I've let you do it."

"You're the one with the reputation as the fastest gun in the west; I didn't make you that way."

"No, but I did it because of you. Cause I knew you couldn't handle it. I knew that if once, just once, you let go, you wouldn't be able to handle it. That's what happened in Rock Springs, you lost your temper and you can't handle it."

Heyes slowly stood, "Of all the ungrateful, no-account… I saved your life!"

"Perhaps, Heyes. But you can't tell me that after he let Kyle lay there and bleed, that there wasn't one piece of you that was happy to do it."

Heyes walked over to the door and held onto it tightly, "Kid, if these bars weren't between us now, I'd…"

"You'd what Heyes? Lose your temper again?"

"I'm doing this for you. So you can get your amnesty. So that you can be free. So that in twenty years, I can be free, instead of meeting both our ends on a hangman's noose."

"Who are you trying to convince, Heyes, me or yourself?"

He could feel the wall go up between them, thicker and more impenetrable than any prison wall could ever be. "I don't want it to end like this."

Kid placed his hat back on his head, "Yeah, well you made that choice, I didn't. Don't expect me to stand by and just wave you off."

Storming over to the window, Kid stared out into the night. For Heyes, the silence was deafening. In every scenario he had run, he never realized just how hard it was going to be to face Kid's anger.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kid moved towards the door. Without a look back, he left, slamming the door behind him.

Leaving the jail, Kid went directly to the saloon and ordered a whiskey. Spotting him at the bar, Lom walked over. "I thought you would stay at the jail a while longer." Kid just stared at the wall and swirled the whiskey in his glass before taking another drink. "I'm sure he told you the trial will be tomorrow?" Still, no response. "You can visit him whenever you like. Of course, when my deputy is on duty, he'll have to search you." Seeing the uselessness of his conversation, Lom just nodded solemnly and left.

A couple of shots later, Kid surveyed the room. In a corner, he saw a poker game with an empty seat. Casually, he walked over and sat down, "Good evening, boys."

There were four men at the table. Each were trail worn and dusty; the rough sort that he usually avoided, but as he thought about it, tonight he wouldn't mind a little trouble. By the end of the hour, Kid had won a fair share of the other men's money and on the last deal, he won with three aces. It was the man to his right, a burly man with dirty hair and even worse teeth, who spoke up, "Somethin' ain't right here." Kid began to collect his winnings, but the man stopped him, "I said somethin' ain't right here."

Kid glanced down at his hand and then up at the stranger, "You lost, I won."

"Yeah, well I think you're cheatin'."

"Well now, that is a problem, but it's yours, not mine." As he started to pull the money in, the man grabbed his arm. Kid once again glanced down at the man's hand, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Oh yeah?" Raring back, Kid blocked the swing that was aimed for him. With his other hand, he landed a solid punch to the gut. Within moments, the fight escalated into an all-out brawl as each man managed to get in some well-aimed hits. Chairs and tables broke as the fight moved from one area to the next. With his deputy behind him, Lom rushed in just as Kid was thrown by a punch to the jaw. With guns drawn, the law men quickly positioned themselves between the two angry men.

Helping Kid to his feet, Lom addressed everyone in the room, "Alright, the fight is over; nothing more to see."

The other man began nursing his sore jaw, "What about the pot? I say he was cheating, no one wins that good all night."

Lom looked down at the money strewn across the floor. "It goes to the rest of the players. Maybe next time you'll come up with a more productive way of handling your disputes." Taking Kid by the upper arm, he forcefully led him out of the saloon and into the square. Approaching a stone bench, he pushed him towards it. "Feel better now?"

Sitting on the bench and nursing his jaw, he glared up at his friend. "I can take care of myself." Kid made a move to stand, but with one shove, Lom forced him back on the seat.

With one foot propped up beside Kid, he leaned in close, "You come into my town and get into a fight and you think I don't have anything to say about it?"

"He started it!" Kid pointed back towards the saloon.

"Like hell he did. You went in there looking for a fight. I wouldn't be surprised if you did palm an ace or two."

Thumping his own chest, Kid yelled, "I don't need to cheat to win."

"No, but it sure as hell helps if you're wanting to take your anger out on someone." Quickly, Kid turned away. "Your partner is sitting in jail, ready to go prison, for you, and you pull something like this? I have a good mind to throw you in jail just to make you talk to him."

Kid stood and came within an inch of the Sheriff, in a deadly baritone he growled, "Stay out of it Lom."

"Kid, I want you to think about this. Heyes is going to prison and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it. The only choice you have is this, how are you going to say goodbye? You and I both know that a lot of men never make it out, is this how you want to say goodbye to someone you've been friends with your entire life?"

Without waiting for answer, Lom turned and left. Kid slowly sat back down on the bench and lay down and stared up at the night stars. Anger and whisky swirled through his mind. It blurred the images that kept arising. Memories, like nightmares, would not give him peace; memories of two boys playing in their parent's backyards, laughing and running, not a care in the world. Those same two boys discovering the bodies of their parents, murdered by cowards, leaning on one another because there was no one else; two grown men, walking into a bank with guns in hand, laughing as they ran out, as if they were still children getting away with nothing more than penny candy. Always together, but it was to be no more. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but at some point in the night, sleep overtook him as he drifted off into dreams forgotten.

"You ready?" Lom asked as he walked over to the cell door.

"Would it change anything if I said no?" Heyes asked with a half-hearted smile. As he exited the cell, Heyes glanced through the window at the crowd that was quickly gaining mass at the courthouse. "Hope all those people aren't here to see little ole me."

Seeing the true question behind his statement, Lom put a hand on Heyes's shoulder and quietly spoke, "He'll be there."

Heyes was escorted in through the throngs of gawkers and sightseers. Dressed in their best suits and ties, he and Lom sat at the table on the left side of the court. At the table across from them sat a tall gentleman going through the papers in front of him. The bailiff stood like a sentry beside the vacant jury box. Behind the railing, people pushed to get a better view. After a few moments, Heyes heard the deputy's voice in the back yell out, "Now that's it, the rest of you can just read about it in the paper."

Time seemed to stand still as Heyes waited; he kept his hands in his lap, not wanting anyone to see just how nervous he really was. Every few moments, he would try to casually look around, searching for that one familiar face, but finding none.

The bailiff stepped up and announced to the room, "All rise for the honorable Judge Lester T. Miles."

Standing, Heyes watched as a portly man with balding hair and thin glasses came through the door. His gown billowed as he stepped behind the bench and sat down. Peering over his glasses, he looked out over the crowd. "Seems we have a bit of a festival here. I haven't seen this type of outpouring of interest in the justice system since Jimmy Luff's murder trial over in Cheyenne. Sit down, sit down." He told the crowd. Grabbing a piece of paper, he read aloud, "This is the trial of the Territory of Wyoming versus Hannibal Heyes. Mr. Heyes will you please rise while the bailiff reads the charges."

Taking a piece of paper, the bailiff addressed the court. "January 12, 1871, armed robbery of the Western and Union railroad, theft of $15,000. May 31, 1871, armed robbery of the Pacific railroad, theft of $12,000. December 31, 1871, armed robbery of the Laramie Bank and Trust, theft of $24,000. May 12, 1872, armed robbery and the destruction of property of Rawlins First National Bank, theft of $39,000."

As the charges were read, Heyes was surprised at just how many jobs he had successfully been involved in and at just how much money he had taken over the years. He hid a smile at the thought that if only he had saved his earnings, disappearing would have been easy. Hell, he thought, I could have bought a house next to the Governor and no one would'a known.

As the bailiff finished the list, Judge Miles turned his attention once again to Heyes, "Mr. Heyes, how do you plead?"

Heyes opened his mouth to speak, but struggled with the words. Just then, something caught his eye. To his right, leaning against the wall, stood a bedraggled Kid Curry. Unshaven, his clothes were still dusty from the trail, and he sported an unmistakable bruise on his chin and below his left eye.

"Mr. Heyes?" The judge pressed.

Turning his attention back to the court, Heyes whispered. "Guilty."

"Excuse me?"

Clearing his throat, he spoke louder, "Guilty, your honor."

The room erupted in commotion. Banging on his desk with the gavel, the Judge yelled, "Order! I'll have order in this court, or else I'll clear this room and none of you will get to see." As the room settled, he returned his attention to Heyes, "Now, Mr. Heyes, do you fully understand the consequences of such a plea?"

Nodding, he said, "Yes sir, I do."

"Very well." He turned to the man sitting at the other table. "Now, is there anything the Territory would like to add?"

The man rose, "Just this, your honor. For years, this territory has been terrorized by the scourge of the bank and train thieves. The Territory of Wyoming requests that an example be made for anyone else considering going down this lawless path. We request the maximum sentence, twenty years."

Once again, the crowd erupted. With a bang of the gavel, the room quickly quieted. "Now, Mr. Heyes, I don't see any reason wasting your time or the Territory's money putting this off any longer. Before I declare your sentence, is there anything you care to say?"

Heyes thought about it for a moment. There was a lot he wanted to say. He wanted to point out that in all the banks and trains they robbed, not once did he take a dime from a passenger. He wanted to point out that, not only did he and his gang avoid bloodshed, but they condemned violent robberies and as a result several other gangs had followed their lead. He wanted to add that for the past year he had gone straight, even worked with the law to bring serious criminals to justice. As he opened his mouth, all he could utter was, "No sir, I don't."

"Very well. Now, as I'm sure you know, I have spoken to Sheriff Trevors and I even received a telegram from the Governor this morning. But it is not their job to dispense justice. It is their job to keep order and to legislate. Your crimes, Mr. Heyes, are many. How many lives have you interrupted by your thievery? How many thousands have had to be shelled out by insurance companies and the government? How much more does the bank have to pay for insurance because of what you and your friends have done? Do you believe that cost doesn't get passed down to the consumer? Sheriff Trevor's told me how you and your partner have attempted to go straight over this past year, but that does not sway me. One year of honest living does not undo all the years of your criminal activity. It doesn't undo the influence you have had on the younger generation that looks up to you in some romantic sense as the gentleman outlaw. No sir, I agree with this man over here." He pointed towards the prosecutor. "Perhaps when word gets out, and dime novels are printed about the fall of the great Hannibal Heyes, perhaps those most easily influenced will see you for what you are; a thief that was caught and that will finally pay for his sins. I sentence you, Mr. Heyes, to twenty years at the Wyoming Territorial Prison. Court is adjourned." Rising, he quickly exited the door from which he entered, leaving a stunned Heyes staring after him.

Gently, Lom pulled on Heyes's elbow and whispered. "C'mon." Then, after placing shackles on his wrists, he led him back through the crowd, towards the cell that was waiting for him.

"Just like I told the last one, he has no comment." Lom slammed the office door. It had been the fifth person trying to get in, trying to get a look at the fallen, trying to ask the question that everyone wondered – why?

Hannibal Heyes hadn't budged from his cot. He stared up at the ceiling, too numb to even acknowledge the uproar that his plea had caused. He didn't even hear as another wave of knocks resounded inside the small office.

"Heyes, you might want to talk to this one."

Looking up, he saw his partner, still in no better condition than when he spotted him hours before in court. Standing, he walked to the cell door.

"Kid, I'll need to take your gun." Without a word, it was handed over. "The Marshals are due to arrive any time now. I'm gonna go outside and see if I can get this crowd to move along. Deputy Harkins will be right outside the door if you need anything."

Neither man acknowledged a word spoken and patiently waited for the door to close.

Looking down at his boots, Kid softly said, "You just had to do it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Kid. I did. You would'a done the same thing if you were me."

"And you would have been just as mad."

"Yeah, I probably would've." A tense moment of silence passed. "I need you to stay out of trouble. When you get that amnesty, you'll be able to come up and visit."

"I won't visit."

The two partners just stared at one another. Neither man wanted to admit the truth behind those words, that inside the prison, the sight of the other would be too hard. Heyes just nodded in understanding.

From behind, the door reopened and Lom stepped in, flanked by three Federal Marshals. Approaching the cell, one of the men held his revolver at the ready, while Lom opened the door. Heyes stepped out and without a word, another Marshal placed shackles on his wrists and ankles. Before being led away, he turned once again to his lifelong friend. "You take care of yourself and stay out of trouble."

With just a nod, Kid watched as Heyes was led outside, to the stage that was waiting. As the stage pulled away, Kid took his gun from Lom, mounted his horse and left, riding in the opposite direction.