It's All in the Rigging

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

Jed Curry twirled the Colt, wincing just a mite. Bringing the barrel upright, he blew, sending the smoke away from him. It scattered in the breeze like a dandelion gone to seed before dissipating. Looking beyond the pistol, he focused on the fence thirty feet in the distance – no tin can targets remained. He breathed a sigh of relief and holstered the sidearm.

Brought back to the present, he rolled his eyes at the slow clapping behind him. "Enough, Heyes."

"I didn't think you'd lost your touch." The darker partner was now at his side. "Satisfied?"

"I suppose."

"You really thought you lost it after all that excitement."

"Not really."

"Oh, come on, Kid, you were just as worried as I was, but you wouldn't admit it."

"What's the matter, Heyes? You lost confidence in me or somethin'?"

"No. I was the one who told ya it would be okay, didn't I?"

"I knew it would be." Kid flexed his right hand. It cramped a little. Perhaps his partner was right that he had held the grip too tightly right after the accident, before Heyes insisted he rest the injured part and not hold a gun nor handle the team. Nah. Curry smirked. But, maybe after all these years Heyes had learned something about shooting form. After all, he had certainly observed Curry enough and was not a bad shot himself. Or maybe he just made a good guess.

Heyes nodded toward the fence. "Then why the show?"

Curry shrugged. "Just needed the practice."

"Uh huh." Heyes put a hand on Kid's shoulder. "You just can't admit I know what I'm talking about."

Curry pursed his lips to stop a smile from forming. It was like Heyes could read his mind sometimes.

"You're off, though."

"What?"

Heyes nodded at the Colt. "That empty gun in your holster's not gonna do us much good without loading it."

Dang, Heyes had caught him off balance. Curry's tone had a hint of warning. "Heyes …"

"Just saying, Kid. Let's hole up for a couple days so your hand can finish healing."

"My hand doesn't need healin' …"

"Okay, then your attitude."

Kid Curry was two degrees this side of apoplexy. "Heyes, I'll flatten ya if ya don't …"

The darker man held his hands palms up. "Now, now, Kid. That'll just hurt your hand some more."

Caught flat-footed yet again, Curry started to say something but nothing came out. A full bore of double dimples came in reply. Shaking his head in disgust, the blond man walked toward the fence. He could not believe he let Heyes get his goat – again!

Heyes watched Curry unholster the Colt and load it as he walked. Yes, his form and focus was off, even if his aim was still true. Even if Kid would not admit it, Heyes knew he was a little nervous. Understandable, Heyes reasoned, given Curry had somehow gotten his hand tangled in the rigging while harnessing horses to the teamster wagon on their last job a couple days ago. Kid had not seemed worried over a little bruising and swelling, but Heyes had made him rest the hand and this was his first time handling a gun since. Happily, the job had gone smoothly and nothing happened where Curry had to test it.

Letting a minute pass to cool things down, Heyes approached his cousin. Curry had finished loading the pistol and returned it to its proper place on his right hip and now leaned against the fence taking in the view. And, timing being everything, Heyes joined in the companionable, scene-gazing silence. Finally, he observed, "Sure is pretty."

"Uh huh."

Heyes put an arm across Curry's shoulders. "So we're flush. How about we ride into town and get that hotel room and steak dinner we've been talking about and then relax for a couple days and increase our stake?"

Curry thought a second. He might be mad at Heyes but his partner had a way of making it up to him. Sharing a glance, he said, "Sounds good."

"Good." Heyes pivoted them toward the horses. "A couple of peaceful days'll do wonders for your hand ..."

Curry sighed. "Heyes …"

"And I'll even take some time away from poker to show you the proper way to handle rigging. First, you don't want to put the cart before the horse …"

Before he knew what happened, Heyes hit the ground with a thud.