When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. - Henri Nouwen.
All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin - Byron
Kid turned the key in the lock, put the bottle of whisky he was carrying on the dresser and ran his fingers through his hair with a tired sigh.
"Horses all bedded down," he yawned, throwing his hat down on the bed. "How's the room?"
Heyes looked up from his side of the too-small-for-two brass bed.
"Clean sheets, no bugs."
Kid nodded. Better than usual for a dollar a night. He lifted the blind and peered out. He didn't expect any problems - Heyes would've seen to it that the room they got faced on to the street, was not overlooked or overhung with balconies, parapets or low roofs where an intruder might get in. He automatically checked the window though he knew his partner had already latched it securely, the,n took a bentwood chair and wedged it under the door handle - save Heyes from getting up and doing it himself.
"Woulda liked a bath," Kid muttered, sitting down at the edge of the bed and pulling off his boots. "I smell more like a horse than my horse."
Heyes smiled behind his book, "Hotel don't provide," he sighed. "Bath house next door."
"Yeah, and it closes at nine." Kid sighed, put his hands behind his head and lay back next to his partner. "Mmmmm," he sighed. "Soft pillows."
"Feather bed too."
"Not bad for a cheap, small town hotel. Wish we could open that window, lantern's smokin some."
"I already tried trimming the wick but it don't help."
"Must be dirty kerosene."
Heyes nodded as he went on reading. "Well, I'm only gonna finish this chapter then I'm gonna get some sleep. I'm tired fit to bust right apart."
"What you reading?"
"Old Dime Novel I found under the bed."
Kid pulled the cover towards him so's he could read in the weak lantern light; "The First Trail or, The Forest Foundling. Any good?"
Heyes grinned and read aloud; "Moll was tall, standing nearly six feet in height, with thin bony limbs, almost frightful to behold. Her hair was a dirty yellow colour..."*
Kid nodded. poker faced. "Yup, she sounds like the kind of woman you usually got on the bed with you right enough."
Kid noted Heyes' nostrils pinch in that way he had when he was about to supply a comeback, the look mellowing into a sly smile when he saw Curry's pleased grin.
"How about some of that whisky?" he said instead.
"I guess. Might help some." Kid got up and poured two stout glass fulls.
"Why didn't you stay down there?" Heyes asked, still reading.
"What in that two bit saloon?"
Heyes shrugged. "Thought you said you wanted a drink, game of poker, relax a little...?"
Kid shrugged. "By the time I'd got the horses down to the livery and got cleaned up, I was just too darn tired. Thought I'd bring a bottle up, figured you'd want a drink too."
"Guess we're still both a little shaky," Heyes said, putting down the book and pulling himself up on his elbows to take the drink held out to him. Kid lay down next to him and, for a moment, they both lay in identical attitudes - reclining, elbows bent, glass in hand, bare feet crossed at the ankles - both lost in thought.
The last posse that'd chased them out of Sheridan had been a hard one to dodge. They'd lost them eventually, in the high ground between Shell Creek and Buffalo, but Kid had been hit in the leg. It wasn't a bad wound, but three days of hard riding, no food, no sleep and losing blood steadily had left him weak and tired and as like to die from keep falling off his horse than from the hole in his thigh.
So they headed up river to Burgess - a wild and bustling mining town a day's ride north - kinda place where bullets do tend to fly and no one bothers to ask how a man got wounded. The doc there fixed Kid up and asked no questions while he did it.
That little town had five saloons and the mine paid well enough to make the poker interesting. And that kept Heyes out of Kid's hair, cos if there was one thing he hated, it was being fussed over when he was sick.
Kid rested and ate well and his leg healed quick in the good mountain air.
Heyes liked the town too, high above a steep valley, only one road in and a bad trail out. Very few strangers - and word got around quickly about any that arrived. Good place to be if a posse arrived.
But the posse never came and with Kid strong and well again, they settled into a little light prospecting, but found the pickings easier and richer at the poker table. Heyes had slowly taken over $700 in dust from one old timer, and was feeling a little guilty about it.
"Trouble is Kid, that old man just don't know when to throw in a losing hand. Never ceases to amaze me how folk just don't know the odds against helping two pair..."
But it bothered him, that he'd taken the old man's all. They knew from sore experience just how long it took to get seven hundred bucks out of a well worked stream like that. Kid knew Heyes was planning to lose some that last night in town. Not enough to make the old man suspicious - just enough to give him back a good bit of what he'd lost. Plenty of other bad players in town to make it up from (not that Heyes would ever have admitted any of this, to Kid, or even to himself).
'Cept it hadn't worked out that way. Heyes never even got to the table that night cos Kid'd got into a fight with some green-horn boy who didn't like the way 'his' girl was giving Curry the eye. Now, Kid felt this was unreasonable. It wasn't his fault if the lady liked what she saw. He sure wasn't giving her any encouragement. He'd been buying drinks all evening for a sweet little green eyed thing in the cutest pink dress and kinda had his evening all mapped out. Then this boy comes up, trying to look good for his girl and Kid had had to draw...
Well, upshot was, the old timer went straight to the sheriff to tell what he'd seen. And their luck was running true to form - the Sheriff'd had a telegram the week before from Cooper down in Sheridan telling him that Heyes and Curry were on the run in his territory. Well, all he had to do was read a couple of descriptions off the flyers on the wall and they were on their way again, three ways from Sunday with another posse on their tail.
They high tailed it down the valley and - leaving their horses for the sheriff - jumped the train. Jumped back off the train some miles up the track and walked it into Aberdeen to take the stage to Sage Creek where they'd bought a pair of good horses for twice what they were worth and decided to head north, looking over their shoulders all the way.
Neither of them had spent much time in Montana Territory. The place was all filled up with forests and mountains. Not enough towns with banks, not much in the way of a railroad - in short, nothing to interest two big league outlaws.
But to two men seeking amnesty, looking to stay out of trouble, find a little light work (not too hard on the back), and - most important of all - not get recognised, Red Lodge, Montana seemed just about right...
"Heyes?"
"Hmmmm?" Heyes went on reading.
"D'you think we'll ever get that amnesty?"
"What brought that thought on?"
Kid shrugged. "Tired of lookin over my shoulder the whole time. Tired of sleeping in smoky rooms with the windows locked and a chair wedged under the door handle."
Heyes put the book down on his chest and thought a while, "I guess. I mean, there'd be no point in us trying unless there was a chance."
"You don't think the Governor's just stringing us along, keeping us out of trouble on a hope and a prayer and never intending to pardon us at all?"
Heyes sighed, staring at a smoke blackened cobweb floating and waving in the draught from the door. It was a question he'd asked himself many times, but had never raised it with his partner. Looked like his thoughts had been leading him the same way too.
"How about another drink?" he asked instead.
"Heyes, don't change the subject on me."
"I'm serious," he held out his glass.
"So am I. And it's your turn."
Heyes got up and went to the dresser, brought back two more whiskeys.
"So?"
"So what?" Heyes climbed back on the bed, but turned on his side, his back to his partner. He picked up the cheap paper book and pretended to go on reading.
"So, what about the amnesty?"
"Kid, anyone ever tell you you do harp on sometimes..."
"So you think he's just stringing us along too huh? Don't it ever worry you that he's maybe fixing to double cross us?"
Heyes sighed and put down the book.
"Of course I worry about it." He turned to look at Kid. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" he challenged him.
"No..."
"Well then quit asking questions and - go to sleep, read a book, have a shave..."
"Do I need a shave? I was planning on going to the barbers tomorrow, figured I might get my hair cut too..."
"Look, quit yammering will you? I just wanna read my book and get some sleep."
Kid folded his arms over his chest with a petulant sigh.
"No need to get proddy..." he said after a minute.
"I'm not getting proddy!" Heyes turned to him angrily.
"Yeah you are, sure you are."
"Kid, sometimes talkin to you is like barkin at a knot you know that?"
"Yeah, well..."
"What do you want me to say to you? Yeah, we'll get the amnesty. We'll get it real soon. No one will be chasing us anymore, slate wiped clean, everything'll be fresh, sweet and rosy as a garden in the rain?
"I don't know any more'n you do if we'll get the amnesty. Or what'll happen if we don't or what'll happen if we do. I mean, all them guys who wanna make a name for themselves by taking on Kid Curry aren't gonna up and disappear just because we get amnesty. Banks and trains are still gonna be robbed and wherever we settle ourselves, it's gonna happen nearby one day, and everyone'll point and whisper and wonder.
"And what about jobs? Ever thought about what we'll do? How many people gonna want to employ Heyes and Curry, ever thought about that? Reckon we're gonna have to go on being Smith and Jones a long while yet Kid, maybe forever, amnesty or no amnesty.
"And neither of us is getting any younger. How many more years you reckon we can keep on the dodge, running from town to town, watching our backs the whole time?"
Heyes threw back his whisky and banged the glass down on the bedside table."Yeah. I do worry about it. I think about it all the time, but I don't come up with too many answers. Short of going back to holding up trains I don't see too many alternatives on the horizon right now, so I can read you fairy stories 'bout how everything's gonna be OK and we're both gonna live happily ever after. Or else, I can tell you the truth. That we're both just gonna have to go on as we are and hope and pray and deal with whatever comes our way the best way we can.
So, can I get back to my book now?"
Kid pouted. "Simple yes or no woulda been enough." - And got up from the bed and looked out the window a good long while.
"I wish you wouldn't do that Heyes," he said eventually, turning to look at his partner.
"Heyes sighed. "Do what?"
"Take on the whole burden. We're supposed to be partners, remember?"
"Kid," he sighed. "Course we're gonna get the amnesty. I mean, Lom trusts the Governor and Lom's no fool."
Kid sat down on the bed with his back to Heyes and began to get undressed.
"No Heyes, you're only saying what I been thinking. I just didn't want to say it, is all. Guess I didn't wanna bother you none either."
He took off his shirt and Henley, and hung them at the bottom of the bed, near at hand, should they need to dress quick and move out in a hurry.
"Kid..."
Kid turned to face his partner. "No Heyes. It's true, I mean, what are the chances the Governor's gonna see fit to give us two an amnesty? And even - even if he does, our lives ain't gonna change overnight. Sure, lawman and bounty hunters won't be chasing us from sundown to Yuma, but there'll still be folks after us."
He unbuttoned and pulled off his pants, draped them in easy reach, with his other clothes.
"More likely to get shot in the back after amnesty when our guard's down than we are now. No, fact is, we made our beds long time ago partner, now we're just gonna have to lie in em, bugs and dirty linen and all."
He hung his gunbelt up on the bedpost, closest place to him in case they were surprised in the night. He took out the gun, checked to see it was fully loaded, looked down the barrel, briefly considered cleaning it fresh, but decided it was OK - he'd do it tomorrow, before breakfast.
Heyes watched him, and wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Kid didn't get dark moods very often. It was something he hated to see.
"This seems a nice quiet town," Heyes tried. "No one knows us here, thought we might stick around a while, rest up. Real pretty girl working in that restaurant... You wanna put out a clean shirt? Thought I'd take our stuff down to the laundry tomorrow. Be nice to get clean clothes. Ones that don't smell of horse."
Kid smiled. "All the better for sweet talking little Betsy at the restaurant?"
"Oh, little Betsy huh? You know her name already?"
"I made my inquiries while you were checking out the sheriff."
"Well that figures... How come I get Sheriff Chett Sawyer and you get little Betsy?"
"She of the steak pie..."
"Oh, that was some pie!"
"You remember the best steak pie we ever ate?" Kid asked, with a happy smile.
Heyes looked questioningly at him over his book - "Remind me."
"The one we stole from the store in Salina."
Heyes broke into a huge grin. "I'd forgotten all about that!"
"How could you forget a pie like that?"
"Now that was some pie!"
"Well, we were very hungry."
"We surely were, little cousin."
"Long time since you called me that."
Heyes glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, kinda embarrassed at having made such a slip. "Well, you ain't so little any more."
Kid smiled. He liked it that Heyes had called him that. Gave him a warm glow, like twenty five years had rolled away and they were just two kids together. On the lam was how they liked to think of it. Escaped from the orphanage - their first break-out, first of many more to come, though they couldn't have known that then - walking down that hot and dusty road. It had all been such an adventure at first. Then reality began to bite hard. They couldn't find work - so many folks looking for work back then; soldiers, black folks heading west or north, widows and orphans.
Their boots wore out, and their clothes turned to rags and they got hungrier and hungrier, living off of weeds from the roadside.
A hundred miles and more they'd walked from home when they fetched up, barefoot and starving, in the town of Salina. And there, they got a lucky break.
A drunken soldier with a frisky horse offered Heyes five cents if he'd hold the animal while he bought himself a pie.
Those pies! Laid out, they were, on a red and white gingham cloth in front of the store. All golden pastry and oozing gravy. Oh, the smell of them! Well, what was Heyes to do? Temptation like that thrown right in his face.
'Kid," he whispered. "I got a real strong hunch I'm gonna have trouble with this here horse. Think he just might get right outta my control. What with me bein' so skinny and all, I'll never hold him. So if that happens, I need you to be ready, and to run like the wind. OK?"
"OK Heyes." Heyes never needed to tell him twice, never needed to explain. Heyes knew he'd understand - and he always did too.
Kid positioned himself at the corner of the street, next to the pies, when suddenly - it might have been a hornet, or a sudden noise, mighta been just plain skittishness, or mighta been the pin Heyes jabbed into his rump that did it - but that horse reared up, neighing and kicking so that Heyes was forced to let go of him for fear of his life, and the horse set to lashing at the sidewalk till he tore right off, raising up a storm all down the street.
Well, everyone came out to see, the soldier took off after the animal, cursing and railing and Heyes calling;
'I'm sorry Mister, he was just too much for me,' and - 'do I still get my five cents?'
And in the confusion, Kid was able to grab the biggest pie on the trestle and make off with it - and Kid could run! Always did win every race - always could beat leather out of Heyes and everyone else he ever came up against. Then Heyes was away too, apologising and crying that 'it weren't his fault and folks shouldn't go giving dangrus murdrus animals for kids to mind and what wouldn't his ma do to that soldier when she found out.'
And by then, the shopkeeper had discovered the loss of his prize pie - but it was too late and Kid was out of sight, long gone, down the road, beyond the pines and waiting for his cousin at the little camp they'd made for themselves at a burned out farm just out of town.
Heyes was laughing hard, eyes bright with the joy of sharing a long forgotten memory. "And you waited for me," he said, smiling at Kid.
"What do you mean, I waited for you?"
"You didn't touch that pie. You didn't so much as break off a crumb of the crust or dip your finger in the gravy till I got there. You sat there, hungry as you were with the biggest and best pie that ever was baked, and you waited for me to catch up to you."
"Well, wouldn't have been no fun to eat it alone."
"Even as half starved to death as you were?"
"No moren' you were," Kid shook his head solemnly. "Half the pleasure's in the sharin.'"
Heyes smiled, that funny lop sided smile he got when he was half humouring you.
"What?" Kid asked.
"Nothin'"
"Somethin's got you, what is it?"
"Half the pleasure's in the sharin' huh?"
"Sure!"
Sure, Heyes thought. The danger, the fear. The excitement, the joy. They shared it all. Always had, always would - amnesty or no. He smiled fondly at his cousin, lying beside him hands behind his head, such a serious expression on his face.
"Does that include little Betsy?"
"Oh now, that ain't hardly decent Heyes. There are some things where even partners have to draw the line on sharin'."
"Could toss a coin..."
"Whose coin?"
Heyes laughed.
"You gonna read all night Heyes? Cos if you are you might light a candle, that lamp's smokin' bad, it's getting in my eyes. And if you are gonna read, you might at least read some out to me."
"What, you want bedtime stories now?"
"Why not? Always used to read to your little cousin," Kid smirked, and tried to catch Heyes' eye - but Heyes wouldn't let him.
Heyes commenced to reading;
"Moll's forehead was long and narrow. Her mouth had been wide, at some former time, but had fallen in very much, leaving two long teeth in the upper jaw which overshot the lower lip, and gave to the face much of its terribly haggish appearance..."*
"Oh, Heyes! What kind of a story is that to be readin' at bedtime? You wanna give me nightmares?"
Heyes smiled, put down the book and stood up to take off his pants. He hung them over the bottom of the bed, in easy reach, next to his other clothes. He hung his gunbelt over the bedpost, beside his head, in case they were surprised in the night. Then he padded around the room checking the door was firmly locked and wedged. Then checked that the window was securely latched, glancing one last time out into the street. Only when he was finally satisfied that everything had been prepared for their safety and an easy getaway - should one be necessary, did he blow on the lamp and put out the light.
* From The First Trail; or, The Forest Foundling - a Dime novel by James Bowen. Pub. Beadle and Adams, New York. 1870.