Pearls

The Kid slapped Heyes' arm to jolt him awake.

"Ready, Heyes?"

Heyes looked round and repositioned his hat, jamming it down hard and tightening the stampede straps under his chin. He saw the train coming. It wouldn't be going at top speed but it sure looked like it was.

"Yep." He took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. "It's coming real fast, Kid," he muttered.

Jumping a train was always dangerous. They had to stay hidden until the engine had passed, and hope that nobody in the passenger carriages at the rear would spot them. If the driver or the conductor saw them, their free ride would be at an end before it had even started. The brakes would slam on hard and they would have to scurry to hide again with no guarantee that they could. Once the train had come to a stop, the crew would make a thorough search of all the carriages and boxcars just in case. When the train set off again the crew would be on alert. Jumpers had one chance to get on. Just the one chance. However, it came with risks. Risk of injury. Risk of death. These were real possibilities. The partners had seen accidents happen and those images stayed in the mind. Jumping a train was not something they undertook lightly.

The only reason they were doing it now was someone had recognised them in the last town. They had intended to take the train to Hardy City anyway but in the regular fashion. Yet before they could get to the train station, a chase had ensured. The posse was half-heartedly and had given up after a few miles. Not before Heyes and Curry had decided to change their mode of transportation. Coming across the railroad tracks, they had given up their horses, spurring them on in a different direction. On foot, they had kept to the scrub, ducked down and hid.

As the engine passed, Heyes and the Kid started to rise, with a certain amount of apprehension. With luck, a door of one of the boxcars might be open. Today the luck of reforming outlaws was holding; one was. They glanced at each other and started to run. Even running alongside a steaming train had its dangers. Often banked up to the tracks, the ground could slope and be uneven with loose chippings. Easy to lose ones footing and fall.

The trick was to pick your spot, noting the handholds and then just run to keep up with it. And stay away from the wheels!

Today the Kid went first, swinging up and forcing the door open wider with his feet as he swung from a grab handle. He threw in his saddlebags. Heyes saw, nodded and threw in his. Normally he was the one who was fleet of foot but today he lumbered. He swallowed hard. He had to keep going. He simply had to get on this train. The Kid reached his hand down as low as he dared, yelling at Heyes as the train picked up speed.

Heyes knew he was tiring. The cold he had the week before was making its presence felt again. He was running out of puff, legs and luck. With a final grit of teeth, his hand connected with the Kid's, the other slapped onto the floor of the boxcar. With the Kid levering him, he swung upwards but Heyes wasn't there yet. His feet pedalled ineffectually in mid-air. Sheer determination and the velocity of the train provided just enough momentum to slam him onto the floor of the boxcar.

Heyes quickly wriggled further in and collapsed face down with a loud groan. Behind him, the Kid swung in and slid the door shut. He crumpled against the door and sat there for a moment before crawling over to Heyes. He patted him on the shoulder.

"Kid, I'm getting too old for this!" Heyes gasped. With another loud groan, he rolled onto his back, where he lay taking large gulps of air. "I very nearly didn't make that." His arm covered his eyes. "I never wanna do that again. Promise me, Kid, we'll never do that again!"

The Kid patted his shoulder again, reassuringly. He squirmed up into a sitting position, leaning against a wooden crate. He still had breath to get back as well, although not nearly so much as Heyes. He looked at his spent partner. Right now Heyes was feeling every one of his thirty-one years.

"Yeah, Heyes, I promise." A brief relieved nod acknowledged his promise.

The Kid sat with one leg bent up, propping his elbow on his knee, rubbing his eyes. Taking his hat off, he gave his hair a stir.

The Kid knew it had been close. Far too close. He wondered what would he would have done if Heyes hadn't made it? Jump off himself? Getting off a moving train was almost as dangerous as getting on one. Risk injury? To find Heyes dead? Or badly injured? The Kid shook his head and gave his hair another stir. No Heyes was right. They weren't gonna do this again.

The train settled into its full speed, eating up the miles away from their last adventure.

The only sound for several long minutes, above the noise of the train, was heavy breathing. Then with a loud groan, Heyes struggled onto his hands and knees. He was exhausted. More exhausted then he felt he should be. He remained there for a moment before shuffling round to sit against the crate beside the Kid. He took his hat off, slapping it into his lap and ran his fingers through his hair.

He turned his head to look at the Kid.

"What time does this train get into Hardy City?" he asked, his breathing returning to normal at last.

"Dunno," the Kid, sighed, looking round. He had been dozing, lulled away by the rocking of the train.

"I thought you read the railroad timetable?" Heyes was indignant.

"Heyes, ya know I could never decipher those things!" the Kid protested. "Even when we were holding them up!"

Heyes grunted.

"Ya still got the package?"

"'Course I still got the package," Heyes snapped. He was still feeling out of sorts, from his cold and from the effort that jumping on the train had cost him. "I'm detecting a distinct lack of trust in me," he grumbled further, reaching into the inside pocket of his blue/grey coat.

"Oh I trust ya Heyes," the Kid reassured him. "I'm jus' worried that's all. If this delivery is as important as Lom says it is, then I don't want anything to go wrong. An' losing the package is right up there."

Heyes gave him a withering look as he pulled out a small leather pouch. "See?" he said, with a scowl.

The Kid motioned that he should open it.

Heyes moved round into a crouch, one knee up. With a slight smile, Heyes pulled at the string. "I like it when you worry, Kid. It means I can trust you to look after me better."

The Kid rolled his eyes.

"Like you did earlier. I don't think I woulda made it if you hadn't given me a hand."

Recognising sincerity in Heyes' voice, the Kid nodded.

"Ya welcome Heyes." Then when Heyes looked up added. "'Sides this going for amnesty lark wouldn't be nearly so much fun without ya!"

Heyes grinned and gave the Kid's upper arm a playful push. The Kid grinned back.

"Now let's see what we've got here." Heyes tipped the contents of the pouch into his other hand. "Oooh!" he cooed.

In his palm now sat four pearly pearls. The Kid puffed.

"How much are they worth?"

"Kid, in case you've forgotten we used to be a bank and train robbers, not jewel thieves." He ignored the look. "I reckon about $5 or $6 thousand. Each."

"EACH!" the Kid squeaked.

Heyes grinned both dimples. "Yep."

The Kid whistled. "Put 'em back. Put 'em back. 'Afore I get tempted to go to South America with 'em."

"Naw, you won't," Heyes dismissed, as he poured the pearls back into their pouch.

"I won't? Why not?" the Kid frowned.

"You don't speak South American," Heyes said, perfectly reasonably and ignored the look again.

"How come the Governor's trusting us with something that valuable. Perhaps they're false. Do they look false to you?"

Heyes sat back against the crate and considered. "Well perhaps it's a test. Lom did say it was important. Perhaps … ." He looked thoughtful. "Hoyt's ready to grant our amnesty and this is the final hoop we have to jump through." He smiled but he didn't looked convinced. "Besides … ." He pulled the string on the pouch tight. "Kid what makes you think they're false? These are for the Governor's daughter. For her twenty-first birthday present. You think he would give her false pearls?" Heyes shook his head. "Hoyt don't strike me as a man who would give his daughter false pearls."

The Kid frowned. "No I guess not. What will she do with 'em? Now I don't know much about jewellery but that don't look like enough to make a necklace to me."

Heyes shrugged. "Who knows Kid? Pouch secured again in his inside pocket, he sighed. "Understanding the female mind is one of the greatest mysteries of my life." He patted a flour sack into a more comfortable position and stretched out flat. He chuckled impishly. "Although there are a few female minds I wouldn't … ." He stopped and shook his head. "Nooo, don't go there Heyes," he muttered and closed his eyes. "Well I reckon it'll be dark in about an hour. The train won't stop again, 'till it gets to Hardy City, and we're leaving before then. So …I reckon we can get a few hours' sleep 'afore we have to jump off." He positioned his hat over his eyes. "Get some sleep Kid. We have plenty of time."

The exertion had made the pair more tired than they realised and both were soon sound asleep.

Notes:

Fine quality natural pearls are very rare jewels. Very few strands of natural pearls exist and those that do sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars. In 1917, Pierre Cartier purchased the 5th Avenue mansion, which is now the New York Headquarters for $100 and a double string of 128 natural pearls he had collected over years. They were valued then at a $1million. (I used this valuation and scaled it back a little to give the value Heyes mentions.)

The first cultured pearls, which are most pearls sold today, weren't produced commercially until 1916.