How to Get to Carnegie Hall
"Heyes!"
"Wha? Huh?" Bleary eyes opened and quickly closed.
"Drink this."
A fragrant, steaming cup was thrust under his nose. Heyes waved it away, grumbled, and struggled to untangle himself from the clutch of the sleepy woman next to him. This time the cup was thrust into his hand. His bloodshot eyes opened, blinked, shut, then opened again and focused on the backside of his partner struggling to pull pants on over his long johns as he moved around the large, alcoved room kicking various lumps into semblances of consciousness.
The rising sounds, both low-pitched curses and high-pitched shrills, pounded into his throbbing head as chaos rose around him. He swallowed a large portion of the contents of the cup, and his eyes opened wide as he absorbed the potent mix of high-strength caffeine, whiskey, and hot pepper sauce Sally had handed him. He groaned as his muzzy brain snapped into gear and he placed himself – Sally's Salacious Salon.
"Kid," he croaked. "Kid? What's happening?"
Curry turned in his direction. Heyes winced at the redness of the Kid's eyes, which clashed with the green tinge to his face. They had to stop drinking this much – well, maybe not. He walked over and handed his partner the rest of the cup.
The Kid opened his mouth to speak, but Sally, bustling around the room, sorting clothes, and thrusting them at the barely-attired men, spoke first. "Jem's saddling your horses. The girls will delay as long as we can." She ignored the faint protests from the women in the room who were pulling robes about themselves as they rose.
She walked up to Heyes as he scrambled into his clothes. "Here, I kept it in the safe for you." She handed him two heavy saddlebags.
He smiled his thanks, checked the contents, and turned his attention back to pulling on clothes as quickly as possible. "What's going on, Sally?"
"Jem – the boy I keep on watch when we're entertaining customers such as you – anyway, he says there's a posse gathering the far side of town. They plan to raid here just before dawn to catch you all unawares."
Heyes quickly pulled his watch from the vest he was holding. "One hour! Get moving, men!" He reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a handful of gold coins. "Sally, you're a love, thanks."
She nodded, tucked the coins out of sight, and hastened to restore the room to its pristine state – the way it had looked thirty hours earlier, just before the gang had arrived for the wildest carouse they could manage, courtesy of their leaders.
Heyes surveyed the motley assortment of half-dressed men around him. Kyle was flinging cushions in every direction. "I can't find my boot," he explained.
"Wheat, help him find the dang boot," the Kid snapped. "Everyone, out to the barn and mount up. Now! Just carry the rest of your things with you; we can stop to dress properly when we're safe from the posse. Move!" He stuffed his shirt into the saddlebag Heyes handed him and shrugged his jacket over his bare shoulders.
Heyes called, "Kyle, Lance, Lobo, you ride with me. The rest of you are with the Kid. Kid, I'll take the short trail."
His partner frowned at him, knowing the shorter trail was more difficult and more likely to draw a posse after them. Unwilling to challenge his partner in front of the gang, he nodded, winced at the pain the motion caused, swallowed convulsively, and headed out the back door, gesturing for the men to follow.
~~~oOo~~~
The Kid peered cautiously out of the barn then signaled Wheat to lead the men quietly away, while he – gun drawn – covered the rear. He caught his partner's eye and held up his hand to signal five minutes. Heyes nodded and pulled out his watch as the Kid exited the barn.
Curry mounted and followed the men till they passed the last field, outside the town. Once there he rode to the front, nodding to Wheat as he passed him, and led the way towards the woods and north.
They entered the undergrowth, riding cautiously to disturb as little as possible. A rising crescendo of song from the birds signaled the approaching dawn as they picked their way through the dark cover of the woods.
Bright sunlight greeted them by the time they reached a clearing and the Kid signaled for a halt. The men dismounted, groaning and gulping water from their canteens, shading their eyes from the searing sun.
"Kid, think we lost them?"
"Geez, Hank, keep your voice down," Wheat ordered, whispering loudly.
The Kid spoke quietly. "No, we'd be too easy to track through the woods, but I think we can take a quick break. Five minutes then we move on." He shrugged off his jacket and reached into the saddlebag to retrieve his shirt. The others used the opportunity to straighten clothing and fasten it properly. The Kid leaned on his horse and closed his eyes against the pounding headache that had been plaguing him since the abrupt awakening. He seemed oblivious of the quiet grumbling and complaining around him.
Wheat peered at the Kid and began to pass among the men, urging them to settle themselves. "We got lucky that Sally gave us a head start. It ain't the Kid's fault the posse found us. Now, get back on them horses or you'll have me to deal with as well as the Kid, and trust me, you won't want that," he growled.
Hearing this, the Kid stifled a smile and straightened. "Mount up; next stop is Henry's field. We'll change horses there." He nodded and gave Wheat the lead. Wheat puffed up and signaled the men to follow. The Kid took the rear. He stopped, dismounted, and raced back to brush away their tracks for several yards. For the next half hour he would ride, dismount, brush, then remount and follow the others.
Whinnies erupted as they approached the field. The Kid let out a piercing whistle then dismounted as the field horses came trotting up.
"Kid!" Wheat stage whispered.
"What?"
"Ain't that a little loud? What if the posse hears that?" Wheat flinched as the Kid gave him a level stare but held his ground.
The Kid closed his eyes and swung off his horse. "If they were that close we'd hear them, and we wouldn't have time to change horses. Now, see how fast you can get them movin'; rub these down good before lettin' them loose." He spoke through gritted teeth as he hastened to unbuckle his girth.
Wheat opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded. "Come on, men, get moving. Gotta move fast, unless of course you want to be spending time in jail."
"Right now, the way my head feels, it might be a relief," the mutter came from the group of men.
Wheat glared hard trying to determine who had said it. "Git moving." He ground out, glaring at them.
Minutes later, on fresh mounts, the men cantered towards the next ridge. They rode without stopping up the ridge, down the other side, and over another, smaller ridge.
The Kid signaled a halt at the edge of a shallow river. Hank leaned over and tossed in a twig. The men watched it rush down and over the edge of the falls, disappearing into the mist rising from the water as it hit the rocks below.
The Kid squinted up at the sun which had passed zenith some time earlier. He pulled out some jerky, looked at it with distaste and munched resolutely, signaling the men to do likewise.
Wheat turned to him. "Have we lost them yet?"
The Kid walked a few paces back and listened then returned. "I don't think so. We'll walk the horses up river then cut through the swamp."
"That's gonna ruin boots."
"Only if the men didn't think to bring moccasins like Heyes suggested." He grinned at Wheat. "You got any?"
"Yeah, I got some." Wheat huffed then turned to the men. "We're going upriver. Switch to moccasins if you got them. More fool you if you don't." He narrowed his eyes and frowned as Chalkie opened his mouth to argue.
"Listen to Wheat," the Kid commanded his eyes frosting over as he stared down Chalkie.
The man paled and muttered but turned away. The others groped in their saddlebags, stuffing jerky in their mouths and grabbing moccasins. Chalkie and Hank stood to the side, muttering around the jerky they were consuming.
When boots had been stowed and pants legs rolled up, the Kid nodded to Wheat, who cautiously stepped into the river. He gasped at the cold and gruffly ordered the men, "Keep to the shallows, the current's strong."
The Kid waited until all were in, cut a branch, and wiped away all traces of their descent down the slope. As he joined his men, he cast the branch into the center of the current, where it swiftly sailed over the edge and down the falls.
When they had rounded two bends and the falls could no longer be heard, Wheat came to a stop and waited for the Kid to join him. "Thanks, Wheat, I got it from here. You take rear now."
Wheat huffed, but at a look from the Kid, nodded.
The Kid trod wearily onto a tuft of grass beside the river that had widened into a swamp. "Men, watch where I step and follow me. We should stay mostly dry. If you step out of line – well, it's been nice knowin' you." His moccasins squelched as he led his horse through the muddy plain.
The men, grimaced in distaste and followed, too tired to complain. They slogged on. Insects buzzed and small, unseen creatures crashed out of their way. The only other sounds were slaps as men tried to stop their biting tormentors, the swish of the horses' tails, and a pop and squish as foot or hoof heaved itself out of the mud with each step. A viscous sludge rushed to fill each vacuum created by a retreating appendage, waiting to trap the next one. Wheat, walking last, looked back but could see no trace of their passage.
The sun was heading for the horizon when, with a jerk, the Kid pulled his mud-soaked foot out of the muck and stepped onto solid land. He moved to the side and waited for all to join him. Once they had, he mounted his horse and stood in the stirrups looking back. Satisfied, he dismounted, pulled off his moccasins, wrung out his socks, then pulled them back on and followed with his boots. The men did likewise.
Chalkie and Hank muttered quietly to themselves grabbing branches to try to scrape the mud off their boots.
"We lose 'em yet?" Wheat sighed, his eyes shadowed.
The Kid grinned. "Yeah. It's an easy ride from here. If we hustle some we'll make it back to the Hole before full dark."
The men cheered and remounted.
~~~oOo~~~
Heyes watched his partner head out then focused on his watch. He looked up. "Time to go, men."
The others glanced at his set face and followed without speaking. Heyes lead them through the fields to the trees, going on a tangent from the Kid and the other gang members.
They pulled up under the shade of the trees to look at the stark cliff rising before them. The mid-morning sun cast shadows over the faint trail edging its way up the steep side, disappearing at times in the twists of the rock face..
Lobo looked at it, looked back, and spat. "We're going up that?"
"Yes, I've tried it; it can be done. A posse's gonna be reluctant to follow."
"Uh, huh, you did this with horses?"
"Well, I had a mule. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Uh, huh." Lobo looked back the way they'd come. "You sure we haven't lost them yet?"
"Through those woods, Lobo? My grandmother could track us through that."
"Really, Heyes? I didn't know your grandma was a tracker." Kyle looked at Heyes in admiration.
"She's dead, Kyle."
"Then how does she track?"
Heyes rubbed his forehead and pulled his hat down. "Never mind, just follow me. Lobo, cover the rear." He dismounted, took a big swig from his canteen and led the four men to the start of the trail.
Lobo hesitated looking at the rock wall then back at the woods. Shaking his head, he followed slowly.
The four inched along, sweat pouring down their backs, their mouths dry. The horses snorted and hesitated, balking at the path before them. Loose shale and rubble twisted under the feet of the men and the hooves of the horses alike. Slowly they gained altitude, the sun beating mercilessly down on them.
Heyes pressed his back against the rock wall taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes and took several deep slow breaths to ease the rising nausea. Inching forward, he held tightly to the reins, forcing his horse to follow. The trail was too narrow to lean around the animal to see how the others were managing – still he'd have heard if anyone had fallen. "Just a couple more yards then we're at the top, men," he called. Low-voiced curses reached him.
At the top, he moved aside and watched the others clamber onto the ridge. All were pale and gasping for breath by the time they reached him. "See, piece of cake."
Lobo leaned over the side and retched. When he straightened up he glared at the others. "Drank too much," he muttered. The others nodded. Heyes silently handed him his canteen, dimpling as he did so.
Lobo stood staring back the way they'd come. "I think we lost them."
"Don't think so."
"I don't see anything, Heyes. Ain't seen anything all day. I say we lost them." Lobo crossed his arms, defiant.
Heyes glared at him then looked over the valley they'd left behind. As he watched a flock of birds rose mid-forest, soaring into the air. He pointed. "See, Lobo, something disturbed them. That'd be the posse. We're too exposed here." His eyes narrowed. "Get moving."
The men quickly obeyed.
They rode along the top of the narrow ridge, too winded to admire the view. The ridge began to slope down, soon a few stunted trees, twisted by the incessant wind appeared, then more. In the shade of a small cluster of trees, Heyes drew up. The path forked before them.
One fork headed down a steep wall, although not as steep as the one they had climbed, down into a canyon below. Water could be heard running at the bottom, but could not be seen through the heavy brush lining the canyon walls. The other path, wide and gently sloped, wended its way slowly down, winding around outcroppings of bare rock.
"Now what?"
"Down there," Heyes pointed down the steep canyon.
Lobo's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with that path?" He indicated a wider trail.
"The posse will think we went that easier way, but I have a surprise planned for them," Heyes replied. He led the men to the trail edging down into a canyon. While narrow it was wider than the one they had just traversed. It was also shaded by the trees, bushes, and rising sides of the canyon as one descended.
Lobo's face lost some of its green tint and his frown lightened. "I guess."
"You and Lance head down there and we'll meet up at the bottom by the stream. Kyle, come with me. You still have a stick of dynamite, don't you?"
"Well sure, I always save one back. Why?" Kyle rode after Heyes down the easier trail until they turned a corner. Here, Heyes stopped, signaling Kyle to dismount. Heyes reached over and took the reins of his horse.
"See that ledge up there?" Heyes pointed.
Kyle shaded his eyes and nodded.
"I want you to place about half the stick there and set it off so it sends that pile of rocks down onto the path here. Be careful how much you use, or you'll send the whole cliff side down. We're all counting on you."
"But… You sure? Won't it block the path?"
"That's the idea. But I want it to look like a natural slide, mind. I don't want the posse to hear it and think they're so close to us – that'd just encourage them. This way the posse will follow our trail to here then think we made it past this point before the path was cut. They'll give up."
Kyle looked at the ledge, spit some chaw out, and grinned. "Wow. Guess that's why you're the leader, Heyes, thinking up things like that." He climbed to the ledge, broke open the stick, tucking the bottom half in his pocket and folding the paper over the broken end of the top half to keep the powder in. Kyle gestured to Heyes to move back. Heyes carefully moved the horses back down the trail.
Satisfied, Kyle lit the fuse and scrambled down, racing to Heyes just as a pop sounded. They waited anxiously; a rumble sounded, quiet at first then increasing in volume. Dust floated around the corner. Heyes handed the reins of both horses to Kyle and cautiously made his way back. The path was strewn with rocks, and one boulder made the passage too narrow for horses.
He grinned and returned. "Let's go. From the stream, we'll be back in the Hole in less than an hour."
"Hoowee!" Kyle grinned and mounted up. "Never sounded so good to me before."
~~~oOo~~~
Heyes sat beside the fire, yawning as he read by the light of an oil lamp. Periodically he checked his watch. He glanced up as the door to the cabin opened and a weary Kid strode in. Curry dropped the saddlebag onto the table and sank into a chair before the fire, groaning and closing his eyes.
Tired, dark eyes contemplated him then their owner limped over and poured some whiskey. He handed a twist of headache powder and the drink to the Kid, who took them without opening his eyes. "Everything, go smoothly?" Heyes slumped in the other chair, sighing as he relaxed.
Curry opened his eyes and sipped the whiskey. "Like clockwork. Barely a peep out of the boys, even when Hank and Chalkie ruined their boots in the swamp. Wheat was a real help and kept the others in line. He can take a crew if we have to split up again. You?"
"Stubbed my foot crossing the stream, but otherwise fine." A smile lit his face. "The landslide idea worked great. Kyle used just the right amount of dynamite – sounded like a natural slide. I'll send a couple of the boys out next week to clear the area and reset it."
The Kid nodded.
"You want something to eat?"
"Too tired. You?"
"No."
The two sat quietly, content to relax after several exhausting days – first the robbery, then the carouse, and finally the chase. But now they could rest – safe in the confines of the Hole.
"So," the Kid murmured without opening his eyes. "Was it necessary, do you think?"
"What?"
"Today. Was it really necessary?"
"Well, now, Kid, if we're going to be this successful at robbing banks and trains, we've got to expect some posses."
"True. And at least your escape plans worked."
"Yeah, good to know." Heyes chuckled.
"Still . . . I could wait a few years before another day like today."
"Yeah." Heyes nodded then grinned suddenly. "But yesterday sure was fun."
"Yeah," the Kid chuckled, "but the wakenin' was kinda rough."
"Sorry about that."
This time it was the Kid who nodded.
Silence reigned in the cabin as two tired outlaws relaxed.
Eventually, the Kid yawned and levered himself out of the chair to head towards his room. "So, tomorrow you gonna tell them?"
"What?"
"When we distribute the takin's from the bank job, are you gonna tell them?"
"Are you crazy? They'd kill us if they knew there never was a posse; that today was just practice."