Grasshoppers leapt from the trail, rustling noisily as they landed in the dried grasses, but the horses plodded on. Tired, they kept their attention on the rocky path leading up a steep south-facing slope. Flies buzzed around their heads and one of the two laden mules swished its tail and kicked out angrily. Saddles and packs alike creaked softly, lulling the two men astride the horses. The day had grown steadily hotter despite its chilly beginnings and the men wore patches of sweat staining their shirts. A magpie flew across the trail twenty or thirty yards ahead of them, chattering loudly, alarming his flock in a nearby aspen grove.
The smaller rider dallied the lead to his pack mule around his saddle horn and freed up his hands to lift his hat and wipe his brow with a dirty bandana he fished from his pocket. His lank, blond hair was pasted to his skull and his jaws bulged with a large plug of tobacco. When he spoke, his words were muffled.
"Sure is hot for September, ain't it, Heyes?" A stream of tobacco spewed from Kyle's face and landed in the grass further terrifying the hoppers. He kept one eye on the broad back ahead of him; the other followed the path of his spit.
"Unh."
Hannibal Heyes was distracted thinking about last night's poker game. He'd had fun disguising himself as a greenhorn; wearing an old, frayed suit and horn-rimmed glasses. No one took him for a notorious outlaw leader and he'd been courted by every table in the gambling den once he'd pulled that wad of bills from his pocket.
Now that wad rested in his left saddlebag, having grown too large for a pocket. He'd been surprised that the evening had ended without any untidy incidents. Three of the men at his table had looked as though they were going to stir up trouble. Not that he'd been worried. He'd been packing his derringer and Kyle had lingered at the bar, keeping an eye on his boss like he'd promised the Kid he would do. No, the evening had passed without trouble.
"Heyes? You ain't fallin' asleep, are ya?"
"No, I'm not. I'm thinking."
"Oh. Good, I guess." Kyle was used to Heyes' thinking and knew not to ask any more questions. He un-dallied his mule, and rode on in silence. They weren't too far from the Devil's Hole gang's camp and would reach it well before nightfall. To amuse himself, he kept his eyes peeled for mushrooms along the side of the trail. He loved mushrooms.
The animals humped their backs and grunted as they shouldered their burdens up a particularly steep section of trail passing through a thick grove of trees. The aspens swayed gently as a sudden breeze arose and their brittle, golden leaves sighed softly, but the sturdy spruce and firs withstood the gust. Daylight was filtered here and a cool shadow crept over the small pack train, providing relief from the sun.
Heyes started to nod off; his late night beginning to be felt again. Kyle's eyes combed the ground for the curly, orange caps of the mushrooms he was seeking. They grew in the shady, high altitude forests. He couldn't remember what they were called. Gully'd told him once; shanty-somethings. He didn't notice the three men who emerged on foot from the small copse of spruce to their left.
"Hold it right there! Hands up nice and easy," warned a grizzled man with blackened teeth. The other two men stood slightly behind him, their guns drawn and aimed at their hearts.
Heyes jerked to attention at the sound of the man's voice. Fortunately, his hands were occupied with his horse's reins and the mule's lead, otherwise he might've made a reflexive reach for his gun. Instead he sat still, lifted his hands, and glared at the men before him.
Kyle nearly fell off his horse, both of them startled by the intrusion. He righted himself, steadied his beast, raised his hands, and waited calmly. He appeared slightly bored and unafraid, but he was simply waiting to see how Heyes wanted to handle this.
"My, my, lookie who it is boys!" sneered the first outlaw, gesturing to Heyes. The other two men looked baffled. "It's the rube with the run of luck from last night's game."
"Sure is, Will. Looks diff'rent, don't he?" said a shorter, long greasy-haired man, finally recognizing Heyes. The third man, no, boy; smiled and laughed.
"I guess your name ain't George neither. You know, mister, last night I was willin' to let my money go, figurin' you was a tenderfoot havin' a run of luck and some other fella could hang for killin' ya. I can see now that that weren't no run of luck, you look just like the cardsharp you is," said Will. His eyes took in the silver-trimmed hat band, the expensive cut of Heye's shirt, and came to rest on the strapped down, black leather, concha-embellished gun belt. "Lucky for you, I ain't no killer. Why, I'm just an honest man lookin' to right a wrong. Ain't that right, fellas?"
Laughter floated in the air, loud against the sounds of the forest. Heyes knew it was useless to try to sweet talk these three and he waited silently like a coiled rattler.
"Carl, get that little fella's gun. Hal, keep me covered," said Will, walking up to Heyes and reaching up. Dark, furious eyes drilled into him as he unbuckled the fancy gun belt. He laughed. "Don't feel as good gettin' robbed as it does robbin', does it? I'll take that hat, too, and empty your pockets."
Heyes glared at him, but eventually lifted the hat from his head and dropped it onto the dusty trail. He fished out the few dollars he had in his chest pocket along with his silver pocket watch. With a chuckle, Will took the cash and watch before he bent down and picked up the hat, knocking the dust off against his grimy pant leg. He took off his sweat-stained, misshapen felt bowler and tossed it to Carl, who caught it easily despite holding Kyle's gun belt in his left hand. Glancing up at the smaller man sitting above him, Carl decided he had no use for the soiled hat he wore. Instead, he walked over to Will.
Will's filthy grin belied his angry command, "Dismount!"
Without a word, Heyes and Kyle dismounted. Carl grabbed the reins to Heyes' sorrel mare and tied off the pack mule to the horse's saddle. He led the two animals away to where Kyle stood, his small mare standing obediently next to him, ground-tied. His mule had wandered a few steps away and was contentedly eating the dried grasses at its feet. Roughly, Carl snatched up the mule's lead causing it to balk and Carl to cuss. He tied the second mule to the pack of the first mule and then retrieved Kyle's mare.
"Well, I'd say we're even now," said Will. "Have a nice walk." He started to turn away, but froze at the chilling, baritone voice so unlike the twangy, nasal sounds he'd heard last night from the dark-haired man he'd just robbed.
"See you around, Will," said Heyes. The threat was unmistakable.
Will spun around. "You know, I plumb forgot that the boys could use some new boots. Why don't you two have a seat right there and pull yours off?" He gestured to a downed tree.
"You can't leave us out here on foot without water," protested Kyle as he sat down on the log next to Heyes.
"Sure I can," Will laughed. "'Sides, there's plenty of streams to drink from. If you get real lucky maybe you can find one the beavers ain't crapped in." He scooped up the discarded boots and tucked them all under his arm. Leaning close to Heyes, he dropped his friendly act and hissed out fetid breath. "I see you again, boy, I'll kill ya."
Heyes showed no fear. "Likewise."
Straightening, Will wondered if maybe he should kill them and be done with it, but he was only wanted for robbing, not a hanging offense, and he didn't want to do anything to change that. Who knew who might be waiting on these two and come looking for them? No, better to let them get to where they were going.
He and Carl took their prizes, loaded them onto the two mules, and mounted. Will and Carl drew and kept their guns trained on their victims while Hal fetched their own horses. Soon all that was left of them was the faint sound of their laughter wafting up from down the trail.
OOOOOOOOOO
"You were robbed?" exclaimed Kid Curry, standing over his partner. His agitation had grown as dusk had turned to darkness and there'd been no sign of Heyes or Kyle. He'd been ready to go out looking for them when he'd heard the sounds of someone approaching on foot.
Heyes sat by the fire examining his blistered feet. He and Kyle had straggled into camp a few minutes ago and, without a word, Heyes had gone to the Kid's saddlebags and pulled out the bottle of whiskey he'd known his partner had stashed there. He'd uncorked it with his teeth, taken a long slug of it, and he and the whiskey had settled by the warmth of the fire. It was going to be a cold night. He and Kyle had no bedrolls.
The Kid had taken one look at the two men emerging from the shadows and figured he'd get more out of Kyle than Heyes. He'd been right. Kyle had spilled the whole story in front of the entire gang who still clustered around him. Their laughter had yet to die down.
Curry waited, but his partner said nothing. He dropped down next to Heyes and reached for the bottle. "What happened?" he asked softly.
Furious brown eyes shot up to his. "You know what happened. It was just like Kyle said. Go ahead. Laugh."
"Heyes," the Kid said carefully, "I ain't laughin'. How'd those yahoots get the drop on you?"
Seeing no derision in Curry's eyes, Heyes' anger dissipated. "I don't know. I was tired."
"You can't be tired, Heyes, not if you want to keep breathin'. Dammit!" exploded the Kid, "I should've gone with you; this wouldn't have happened. I could've disguised myself. The sheriff wouldn't have recognized me."
"We couldn't risk it."
"We should've risked it. You know things always go wrong when we separate."
"I don't need a damned nursemaid!" shouted Heyes, drawing his gang's attention to him. He grabbed the bottle from the Kid's hand. "Leave me alone."
Curry stood up and walked over to the men who stood looking at their angry dark-haired leader. "All right, boys, show's over. Hank, Lobo, build us another fire over there. Preacher, if you still have that old deck of cards, now'd be a good time to pull it out. I got another bottle of whiskey I'll fetch. Wheat, Kyle's gonna need a saddle blanket or two for the night." The outlaws scurried off to do his bidding. They were soon settled down in front of a new fire and passed the evening quietly, each of them occasionally casting a glance in Heyes' direction.
The boys had taken the cancellation of the job pretty well considering the time and effort they'd all made with the preparations. Curry was grateful and generous with his whiskey. They kept their voices low, but Wheat couldn't resist having Kyle repeat his story several times. The soft sound of muted laughter filled the night.
Finally, the Kid looked over and saw that Heyes had passed out on his side, the empty bottle still clasped to his chest. He turned back to his gang. "Time to hit the sack, boys."
"How come? It ain't like we can pull the job tomorrow. We ain't got the gear," observed Lobo.
"It's time, 'cause I say it's time. Any arguments to that?" The Kid's face warned them. The outlaws reluctantly settled up their bets and shuffled off to retrieve their bedrolls.
Wheat laid a saddle blanket on the ground near the new fire and settled his open bedroll over him and Kyle.
The sleepy, little outlaw grumbled a thank you and rolled over.
Curry picked up his own bedroll and tossed it over Heyes, keeping the canvas fabric well away from the fire. He threw some more logs on the fire and settled down across the flames from his partner, his own saddle blanket clutched tightly around him. He felt chilled; but more by Kyle's story than by the night's coldness.
OOOOOOOOOO
When he woke, his partner was still crumpled in the position he'd last seen him. Curry stood up stiffly and threw another log on the fire, poking at it with a stick until the flames appeared. He walked over to each of his sleeping men and thumped their feet with his boot. "Rise and shine," he said to each man softly, adding, "and you'll be quiet about it if you know what's good for you."
By the time the morning's ablutions had been completed, and breakfast had been consumed, the Kid turned his attention to Heyes. Walking quietly over to the snoring lump, he gently shoved his partner's feet. Nothing. He reached down to push a shoulder, but was stopped short by the sound of Heyes' rasping, whiskey-soaked voice. "Touch me again and I'll kill you."
Grinning, Curry stood up. "C'mon, Heyes, time to get up. We gotta hit the trail."
"Go…away," growled the bedroll.
"Get a move on; it ain't safe for us to linger here."
No response.
The Kid glanced over his shoulder at his men. They were still tacking up their mounts, nearly ready to go. It was going to be a long, slow trip back to the Hole. Heyes and Kyle were going to have to double up with him and Wheat. He shook his head, discouraged. They'd all started out from home with big expectations. The job was going to be piece of cake according to Heyes. He, on the other hand, had been pensive ever since he'd heard those words slip from his partner's lips, 'What could go wrong?' Well, it had gone wrong, and there were lots of ways it could've gone a whole lot more wrong.
Making a decision, he walked back to the other fire ring and poured a mugful of the coffee from a pot that had been left to stay warm by the fire. He flinched slightly at the acrid odor that wafted from the mug. It smelled like it could peel paint from a wall; just the way Heyes liked it. He stood and carried the mug back over to his partner, setting it down on the ground far enough away that Heyes couldn't reach it without crawling out from under the bedroll but near enough for him to smell it.
Curry waited. He knew Heyes. First the bedroll shifted slightly then a hand appeared and clawed its way towards the coffee only to fall a couple of feet short of the enticing brew. A groan rose to his ears. He stood still. The covers moved again and a tousled head poked out. The effort was too much and the head flopped sideways into the dirt. One bloodshot eye, rolled open, and stared up at him, trying its damnedest to focus.
"Ugh. Hand me the mug," mewled Heyes pitifully.
"Get it yourself," said the Kid. Somehow, his partner managed to glare at him from his flattened point-of-view. He chuckled softly and waited.
With another groan, Heyes stretched out from under the bedroll and dragged himself to within reach of the coffee. Curry seized the bedroll and snatched it away just as Heyes' fist closed around the mug.
"Hey!" yelled Heyes before moaning at the sound of his own raised voice. Curry swept the bedroll away and rolled it up and secured it to the back of his saddled gelding. He kept his eye on Heyes who had dragged the coffee to his lips and was sipping it gingerly, still prone on the ground, his head only raised far enough to ingest the needed elixir. The Kid walked past him to the other fire ring and returned with the pot, re-filling Heyes' mug, and setting the pot down next to him.
The gang finished packing up, the two fires were extinguished, and the boys were mounted before Curry returned to stand over his partner. Heyes looked terrible. Bits of leaves were stuck in his hair and his face was worn and puffy, but he already looked better than he had and it was plain to see that his disposition was improving.
"You ready?" asked the Kid.
"For what?"
"To go home. What did you think?"
"I was thinking maybe you and I could hang around for a day or so. Maybe let Wheat take the boys home." Heyes didn't look at him as he spoke and Curry understood exactly what he was getting at.
"You want to go after those three?"
A small, nearly imperceptible nod from Heyes confirmed his intentions.
"Why?" asked the Kid.
Heyes looked up at him. The Kid found it almost painful looking into those mournful, red-streaked eyes. "They took my gun, my horse, my pride, and my hat. I've gotta go after them."
"No, you don't. You can buy another horse, hat, and gun. And you've got more pride than a man has need for."
"They took my watch, too. If I don't go after them, the boys will lose respect for me. I can't let that happen."
Curry hated it when Heyes was right. He sighed, and capitulated. "Let me go tell Wheat. Finish up that coffee. You're gonna need it."
"Thanks."
Taking pity on his battered friend, the Kid smiled, "Hey, what are partners for?"