Black and white-striped, sweat-stained, manacled prisoners shuffled by outside the tall window of the warden's office at the Wyoming Territorial Prison. On their way back to their cells after a long day of splitting rock in the sunbaked yard, the inmates' leg chains rattled creating ghoulish music as they passed. Deep lines of fatigue etched every face and the air of desperation about them was nearly palpable.
The unusual hot spell of ninety-plus degree days had taken its toll. One of the prisoners stumbled to his knees and the response from the nearest guard was immediate. Using his wooden baton, the guard flailed at the downed man while screaming at him to get up. Exhausted, the defeated man could only cower with his arms shielding him as best they could before he fell to the ground and lay on his back, unmoving. The guard's arm dropped to his side and he turned away ordering the other men to pick him up and continue on. The pained blue eyes of the fallen man opened slowly and stared beseechingly at the figure watching from the window.
"There but for the grace of God, eh, Mr. Heyes?" said Warden Burke to his visitor peering out the window. The blue-eyed man was roughly dragged away by the other prisoners. Burke chuckled at his own witticism and rested his hands across his expansive stomach.
Rather than risk a curt response to the brutish man who had spoken, Heyes glanced at his partner occupying one of two chairs on the other side of the desk where the warden sat.
Jed Curry imperceptibly shook his head then smiled at the warden and rose from his seat drawing the man's attention away from baiting his partner.
"Well, Sir, thank you for your time, but I guess we should be gettin' down to the mess hall and startin' our talk."
"What's the hurry, Mr. Curry," inquired Burke, "unless you've missed keeping company with thieves and brigands?"
The man's snide manner was too much for Heyes. He flushed red with anger and slammed one of his fists down on the oak desk. "We're emissaries of the Governor, Burke, or have you forgotten? He'll consider your behavior a personal insult."
Delighted to have provoked a response, Burke stood and smiled at the infamous man before him. "Do you think I give a damn what that pompous fool thinks? He's only sent you here to prove to his constituents he had a purpose in granting you amnesty. You and I both know he's committed political suicide by his actions and his influence will only last as long as the next election. He may hold you both up as the stars of his amnesty program but, one of these days, you two will revert to your former ways and you'll end up out there with the rest of the outlaw scum where you belong," Burke nodded towards the window and added, "and I'll be waiting for it. Don't let me keep you. I am sure our guests are anxious to hear your words of wisdom."
Curry's icy blue eyes bore into his but Burke didn't flinch. He knew, as a lawman for the state of Wyoming, he had the upper hand. Heyes and Curry lived their new lives under the scrutiny of every law officer in the country. They deserved no less.
Storming out of the office, Heyes had difficultly reining in his temper and it took him almost the entire length of the prison hallway to control himself. He and the Kid had been giving these motivational speeches for the past six months; ever since the amnesty had come through. One of the terms the governor had insisted on was they make themselves available as shining examples of the power of redemption. The governor was campaigning as a reformer.
Heyes hated holding himself up as a role model. Both he and the Kid had only agreed to it because it got them what they wanted. The amnesty. If he was honest-which he wasn't-he'd admit the only reason they'd given up stealing at all was the modern world was closing in on them. If it weren't for the advent of the telephone and the shrinking of the West, they'd still be at it.
Sometimes, he wondered if they'd made the right choice. Going for the amnesty had been hard enough, living a respectable life was proving nearly impossible. Neither of them had found regular work. The public had a real long memory and being forced to use their real names didn't help much. The governor threw odd jobs their way, but most of those were shady or downright dangerous. They mostly scraped by on Heyes' poker winnings or mountain lion and wolf bounties; that and their charm.
Thank goodness for Lom. He'd stood by them all those years and, once the amnesty was made public, he'd had to endure a lot of criticism for his part in it. Still, he'd gone the extra mile and offered them sanctuary in Porterville. The good citizens hadn't been happy, but Lom had persuaded them they owed the two famous outlaws a chance since they'd foiled a robbery-well, foiled Wheat's robbery-at the town's only bank. It had cost him, too. He'd almost been defeated in the last election; might be in the next. Heyes was pretty damned sure Lom had let them stay so he could keep a close eye on them, but they needed all the help they could get.
At least the ladies still loved them, although Miss Porter had decided she was no longer sweet on Jed now that she knew he was Kid Curry and the bank security job they'd held before the robbery had remained oddly vacant since they'd blown that fancy safe every which way to Hell.
Fortunately for them, Porterville was stocked full of women who weren't as discerning as the new Bank Manager. He and the Kid might not make much money, but they ate like kings thanks to all those excellent cooks who love a rogue. They were each real careful not to get involved with any one woman for fear of having to settle down and provide for a wife—something likely to result in work that was harder on the back than a handful of speeches. Besides, they'd be cutting off the majority of their food supply. It had worked out so far, but Heyes was pretty sure it wouldn't last forever. He was already working on a new plan. He knew what they wanted, the trouble was figuring out how to get there.
Arriving at a bolted steel door, Heyes stopped and watched his partner coming down the lengthy corridor. He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized how far behind the Kid had been. The guard escorting them tried to appear nonchalant while they waited, but Heyes could feel the man's eyes sizing him up. He let his brown eyes bore into the man's hazel ones and, without words, dared him to cause trouble. The man looked away and pretended to be occupied with opening the bolt.
"You ready, partner?" asked Curry, arriving by his side.
Heyes nodded at his lifelong best friend. The amnesty might not be perfect, but at least they were together. They could still watch out for each other and live with some semblance of freedom. "Ready as I'll ever be. Let's get 'er done."
"You think we'll help anyone today?" Curry asked him that before every one of these talks.
Heyes watched the door swing open and saw the sea of faces turn in their direction. He smiled broadly, his dimples pronounced. Speaking so softly only his partner could hear, he said, "Maybe, but…we're definitely helping ourselves. Ain't that enough?"