This story borrows two beloved characters, much changed by eight years of abiding by the law, but still, I hope, recognizable. I want to tell a story, not to make money, so thanks and apologies to the original writers. Many thanks to those who have been reading along on this cycle for the past four years. I began posting these stories when I had moved from my home area of fifty years to a new state and I felt very much alone. Thanks in part to my readers, many of whom have become friends, I no longer feel alone.
For those of you who are new to this cycle, for this story to make any sense, you need to start by reading the previous stories in order. They are: Not Again!, Hannibal Heyes Goes to New York, Two Degrees of Separation, Two Degrees of Separation, Part II, and Two Sheepskins and a Star. I know, it's a lot. It takes the boys from September 1885, nearly two years after they went straight, and follows them for six years. The date as we begin this new tale is Tuesday, August 25,1891, nearly eight years after my as yetunwritten story that replaces the pilot. The title is a play on the initials of the University of Colorado, where Professor Hannibal Heyes is about to start work.
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Kid Curry swung down from his old horse, a black headed bay gelding he called Blackie, who had carried the Kid since his last days of dodging posses. Sheriff Curry patted his mount fondly and handed the reins to Randy, the stable boy at the Kid's and Heyes' new hotel in Louisville, Colorado. "When you got Blackie settled, come over to my office, Randy," said Sheriff Curry. "I got some errands for you. I can trust you to keep a secret until we change to the new name for the hotel, right?" He flipped a quarter to the freckled, red-headed boy, who grinned and pocketed the money.
Curry's remaining limp from the leg he had broken chasing a murderer was hardly perceptible as he walked over to his office and in the door.
"Good morning boss! So, Mr. Heyes starts teaching today at the University?" Asked deputy Billy Healy, grinning happily as he stood up from his desk to greet the sheriff.
"Hush up about that!" Hissed the Kid. Healy looked apologetic. "It's a secret until Heyes gives us the word to let out the news. And no, he don't start teaching until next month. Today he's just doing stuff with the staff. Me, I got a bunch of stuff to do on that new hotel. And I got to be a sheriff at the same time. I'm just glad we got a good manager in Mr. Chase, if we can't have Heyes to get all this stuff done. Cat's got enough to do, getting things set in our house and getting ready for that baby that's coming in November."
"Yeah, I guess you and the Mrs. got plenty to do, boss," said deputy Al Kelly, coming in from the back room, where a drunk was still sleeping it off in one of the cells.
Curry sat down at his desk. "Yeah. You can help out, Al. Go take the first patrol around town. Keep a good eye on the Peavey boarding house. Some new guys got in last night, I hear. Might be some wanted men there."
"Yes, sir," said Kelly with his customary smirk. He bent down to adjust the leg strap on his six-gun holster, then brushed his straw-colored hair out of his eyes and went swaggering out the door into the warm summer air.
The door had hardly banged closed behind the deputy than it opened again to admit Mr. Cobb. The bald banker glowered at the sheriff. "Curry, I haven't heard a word about when those men who tried to rob my bank will be back from Wyoming for trial. What are you keeping from me?"
"And good morning to you, too, Mr. Cobb," said Curry mockingly, not bothering to stand up. "They ain't even been tried for their crimes in Wyoming yet, so the law ain't set the date for their trials here. I will let you know when I know. Alright?"
"So," Cobb growled, squinting at Curry. "I hear my partner gave you a big loan while I was away."
Curry's blue eyes were steely hard. "That's right, Mr. Cobb. We filled out the paperwork and Mr. Long found it all in order. In fact, he said he wished all his borrowers had their papers as good as ours. You got any objections?"
Cobb didn't back down. "I can't do much, after you stopped those dirty thieves from robbing my bank. It would look bad. But let me tell you, Curry: if you, or your conniving partner, put one single foot wrong, we might have to have another look at your collateral." Cobb sounded infuriatingly self-satisfied. He knew he held most of the cards.
Curry got to his feet. His poker face stayed in place below his eyes, but his eyes blazed blue fire. "Mr. Cobb, I ain't gonna put a foot wrong, and neither is my partner. And our collateral is solid. Now why don't you go back to your bank and let me do my job?"
Cobb snorted, tucked his hands into the belt nearly hidden under his ample gut, turned, and strolled out the door.
The Kid exhaled loudly. He sat back down and bent back over a new stack of wanted posters. He shook his head. "I do hate to see more men gone bad. And on the run from the law. From us," he said to Billy Healy, who sat at the desk next to his boss's. "My partner and I spent a lot of years trying to leave all that behind. I hope it's finally worked, but some folks won't let us forget."
"You're a good sheriff and you run a fine hotel, and Mr. Heyes is a university professor – what more does anybody want out of you guys?" Asked Healy. It struck Curry that his deputy, not yet twenty, was young enough to truly not know the answer to that question. Curry knew it all too well. The world always asked more. He supposed it always would.
Curry tried to look wise and not to sound discouraging. "I don't know, Billy. We just keep trying. And mostly, I think we do alright."
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Meanwhile, Hannibal Heyes was riding along a beaten dirt road across the grassy, flower-studded fields between Louisville and the University of Colorado at Boulder. The Rocky Mountains towered closer and closer. He, too, wondered if people would keep holding his past against him, and what it might take to find a way forward.
Heyes trotted down the dusty streets of Boulder, close in the shadow of the mountains. He looked around, taking note of where things were – false-fronted stores, restaurants, and saloons. He would be working in this town and he was sure he would spend plenty of time in town off campus. The place looked to be thriving. A flock of dirty, barefooted children in ragged clothes ran past and the new professor's face clouded over. The town was thriving, but there were plenty of people who were still getting a raw deal.
Heyes pulled Clay down to a walk as they got near the University of Colorado campus. A few minutes later he steered his mount to a stream that ran along the edge of campus. The tall claybank dun gelding had a deep drink, then raised his head and neighed. An answering neigh came back from across the street behind the Main building, where Clay had been tied on Heyes' first visit. Heyes was amused to realize that his horse was already making friends here, just as his master hoped to do. He led Clay across the road and staked him out under the trees behind the Main building, just as he had before. There were a couple of new horses tied up there since Clay had last been there, so there was neighing back and forth between the staked out horses as they sized up each other. Heyes gave his mount a pat, took the saddle bags off his back, and walked over to the back door of the grand red brick Main Building.
Then the rookie professor changed his mind and walked around the walk that led to the front of the Main Building. He wanted to start his first day as a professor coming in the right way. The former outlaw climbed the steep stone front steps up to the main floor. He tipped his hat to a pair of young ladies who were walking by. They smiled flirtatiously back at him. He wondered if they were students – they looked to be the right age, and Colorado did take women students.
The grand front door under the lofty front tower swung opened easily; Heyes was glad it wasn't locked. He didn't think openly picking the lock on the front door of his new place of work would have looked quite right, especially not with two cute young ladies continuing to watch him. As he stepped through the door he heard one girl say, "My goodness! Do you think he's a new professor?"
The other giggled. "I hope so!"
Heyes let the door swing shut and confidently stepped into the Main building. He went down the hall, head proudly held high, toward the dean's office. He knocked on the glossy varnished door.
Heyes whirled around in surprise as the answer came not from inside the room, but from the hall behind him. "Good morning, Professor Heyes." As Heyes quickly turned, he instinctively reached for his gun, just touching the grips before he recovered himself and took his hand away from the holstered weapon.
"Good morning, Dean Sargent," Heyes replied with a weak smile. He glanced down at his holster. "Sorry."
The former outlaw was not happy to see his boss looking aggrieved. The Dean sighed. He spoke softly but with intensity, "We need to talk, Professor Heyes. Come in."
"Yes, sir?,"answered Heyes as his new boss opened his office door and went to take a seat behind his desk.
"Sit down." Sargent pointed at a chair opposite his desk.
Heyes dropped into the worn armchair. He opened his mouth to ask a question
But Dean Sargent glared at his new professor, who shut his mouth. Sargent looked concerned. He said, "Please hear me out, Heyes, and you might keep your new position for more than an hour."
"Guns carried openly by faculty in this building, or any building on campus, are not technically against campus rules. But the President and I greatly prefer that our faculty members not be armed on campus. This is something in which the president and I are deeply invested. In your case, you must see that it is really vital for people not to see you looking like a gunslinger in the halls. And board members have made their feelings clear. I hate to put it this way, but I have no choice. If I see you wearing that weapon in this building again, or in any building on campus, or if anyone else sees it, or certainly if you use it, your tenure at this university will be instantly terminated. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Heyes answered softly, but with a hint of anger. "I understand. But would you threaten any other professor with discharge over wearing a gun as they walk in the door?"
'We've not previously had any need to do so." The dean said firmly.
Dean Sargent continued, "We are taking severe risks with our credibility by taking you on. You understand that, I feel sure. And your own credibility is in a delicate state. You will have work carefully to build your academic reputation. We want to help with that – for the good of both the university and yourself."
Heyes nodded. "I do understand, Dean. After the number of places that have said 'no' to me, I have a good grasp of how hard it's going to be for me to build up a good professional standing. It's important for my effectiveness as a teacher. I'll do my level best to comport myself appropriately. I have a family to think of, as well as this university and my own career. I sure don't want to cause trouble for you. I hope six years at Columbia University and a lot of work my with my wife have knocked off the worst rough edges, but I do realize there are still gaps in my knowledge of what I guess you'd call polite society."
Sargent smiled slightly. "Yes, I suppose you've eaten around campfires a lot more often than you've needed to know what fork to use at a formal dinner."
Heyes grinned self-consciously. "My wife has worked on me. I don't eat with my elbows on the table – any more. And I do, generally, know which fork to use when."
Sargent smiled, "I'm glad to hear it. And not that surprised."
"So what else are you worried about?" Asked the uncertain new professor.
Sargent said, "The President, the board, and I have given your future here a lot of thought. We ask that you not pick locks."
Heyes opened his mouth to complain about this contradiction, but the Dean held up a hand. "I know, I know, you did it for me. No more, please. I realize the hypocrisy here. But our President is a very upright man. He's also protective of his faculty. He doesn't want you seen doing anything that looks even a little bit illegal – anything that could get you put in prison for the rest of your life. And as for gambling, members of our board do gamble, as you know, since you played against them. And beat them all convincingly, I understand. And paid them all back, with interest, for staking you. And many faculty members gamble. Clearly, you are good at poker, and I'm betting that's not your only game. I won't ask you not to play cards, just not to, well . . ."
"Cheat? Clean out board members?" Heyes chuckled softly. "I hope I know better than that. For a while, gambling was the easiest way for the Kid and me to get honest money when we were dodging sheriffs and bounty hunters. Now, I'm glad to know I'll have pay checks coming in. Any poker will be just for fun – not to clean out anybody. Anything else?"
Sargent said, "Thank you, Heyes. I appreciate your not complaining too much. I'll warn you to please watch out for drinking more than a little wine in public. There are some very straight laced folks in this town, our own President not the least." The dean glanced sharply at Heyes, whose head had jerked up when he heard the word "drinking." Sargent wondered if there might be a problem here of which he had previously had no idea. Heyes reined in his anxieties even as he realized he had given away something that would have been better hidden.
Heyes' new boss added, "And in a larger way, we already talked yesterday about your avoiding anything that would make your past life as a criminal look glamorous. Be careful what stories you tell the students, for instance. I don't need to go on, do I?"
"No, sir. That's all very clear and it makes sense. But . . ." Heyes hoped to be friends with Sargent, but he knew that now was not the moment to joke around.
Sargent asked, "You have a question, Heyes?"
Heyes, taken aback by all this, stuttered a bit, "W-When I'm riding t-to and from campus, I do think I need my pistol – for my personal safety. I do know how to handle a gun. Safely. When the word gets out who I am, there are going to be people who won't like it. Really won't like it. What do you want me to do with the Colt?"
Sargent took a deep breath and said, "Of course, I know you can handle a gun. The whole world knows you killed a man. Once you get to this building, have that damn Colt out of sight. As soon as you arrive, lock it away in your office or wherever you think is really safe. Carefully! You are not the only person on this campus who can pick locks, I'm sorry to say. There are some formerly dicey characters among the students, and possibly the staff. And now the faculty, I guess we must say. So the safest thing is for people not to know where to look. Put it away and hide it from when you get to the building until you leave. Is that clear?"
Heyes spoke respectfully. "Yes, sir. Is there anything else, sir?"
Sargent snapped, "Oh stop calling me sir, Heyes! Sounds like you're in the army or something. With my stupid last name, it's bad enough."
Heyes smiled wanly. "Sorry."
The dean smiled. "But enough no's, and more than. I think what we do want you to do is a lot more important. Once the students know who you are, do tell them enough stories that they know how you went from outlaw to professor. Be sure to let them know how you always wanted to teach and how you taught your illiterate men to read and write. Do get them involved in your research and consultations and what you are learning from them. By all means, let them know that you always used math, though the details of how you used it had better remain dark. Do all you can to help our many young folks who come to school from hard backgrounds – a lot like your own in many cases."
Heyes grinned. "I will do all of those things! You can bet on it, Dean. I'm here to teach, but any professor needs to be a leader, too. Charlie Homer has taught me a lot. He came from a rough western background not that different than mine. He has gotten to be pretty much like a father to me. If I can do anything like as well as he has for students, I'll be very proud. And I'll do my best to make sure you don't ever have to dress me down again."
The dean considered this. "I guess you aren't real used to being spoken to like that. Did they fuss at you like that in prison?" He asked sympathetically.
Heyes nodded, his grin vanishing. Sargent sighed. "No wonder, I guess. You don't have to treat me like a guard or a warden, but please – no guns in the halls. After all we've been through to get you here, which is more than I hope you'll ever know, we don't want to lose you. Or me! You could have blown my head off."
The former outlaw assured his new boss. "I wouldn't have, Dean. I didn't even draw."
Sargent looked meditatively at the possible powder-keg of a new professor he had just hired. "Heyes, tell me, is that how you killed that man in Montana? Whirling around like that?"
One corner of Heyes' mouth twitched up. "Not quite. I turned a whole lot faster that time. And I drew my Colt and pulled the trigger."
Sargent nodded. "Well, you need to put that gun away, so let's go get you into your office."
"Thank you. And I really am sorry, Dean." Heyes was kicking himself hard for getting off on the wrong foot with a man he hoped to have as a friend.
"That's alright. You didn't know." Sargent was rummaging around in his desk drawer, looking for something.
Heyes' baritone voice was deep and filled with regret. "But I did know. Or I should have. Carrying firearms is against the rules on a lot of campuses. I found that out when I was interviewing. I figured it might be outlawed here. I just had my mind on other things. I wasn't thinking that I needed to stop and put my gun away before I got to campus."
"Heyes," said Sargent, looking up from his desk drawer and gazing intently into the former outlaw's deep brown eyes, "In future, think. Please."
"Yes, sir!" Said Heyes with a fake military salute. He was afraid for a moment that he might have gone too far in kidding his superior, but then he heard Sargent's deep belly laugh and joined in. Maybe they would be friends, after all.
The dean pulled a little gold key on a leather loop out of his desk drawer and handed it to the rookie professor. "Here's your office key. Not that you need it." Sargent winked at Heyes, who chuckled as he took the key and put it in his jacket pocket. "But please do use it. For appearances, you know."
"You bet," said Heyes, recovering his from his previous mortification. "So, where's this office of mine, and who do I share it with?"
The Dean looked pleased. "He's another new man – Rolland Mercer. He's a brand new PhD out of Case Western Reserve in Ohio, with awards left and right, like you. He teaches biology. He's here now, so come along and meet him. After you put that gun and holster in your saddlebag."
"Good." Heyes untied his leg strap and carefully unbuckled his gun belt. He coiled his gun belt around his holster and hid the whole bundle under the papers in his saddle bag, then followed the dean down the hall to a door. A man in a leather apron was, even now, using a long-bristled brush to put the last long, curving stroke on the "s" at the end of the letters of the label on the glass door: "Prof. Rolland Mercer" and, on the line below, "Prof. H. Joshua Heyes." Seeing that, Heyes grinned brilliantly.
"That surely does look pretty, Dean," said Heyes, crossing his arms with great satisfaction. "Thank you, Mister. Nice job of lettering."
"Thanks, Professor!" Said the painter. He tapped the lid back on his can of black paint with a screwdriver and went whistling down the hall with his tools.
The dean tapped on the newly lettered door. A young sandy-haired man in a neat grey suit opened the door. "Good morning, Dean."
The Dean said, "Good morning, Mercer. I want you to meet your office mate – Joshua Heyes. He's got an MA from Columbia in mathematics."
"Welcome to Colorado, Professor Heyes!" Mercer extended his hand.
"Thanks! Good to meet you," the former outlaw responded as he took Mercer's hand.
The dean pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket on its gleaming gold chain. When he had opened the cover, he exclaimed. "Oh, gosh, I've got a meeting. Got to dash – see you both later! You and I need to meet with the president, you know, Heyes. I'll come get you." said the neatly-bearded dean, who then hurried off down the hall.
"He's a busy guy, but so will we be. I've had only a couple of months to plan my classes," said Mercer, turning back to a stack of papers on the desk he has chosen from the pair crammed into the tiny office. Heyes sat down on the rolling chair behind the other small desk.
"A couple of months! You lucky dog – I just got hired yesterday," replied Heyes. "I thought I was going to be tutoring, so I've seen the texts, but not for long."
"Oh my God!" said Rolland Mercer, sitting up in surprise. "That's cutting it closer than I've ever heard of. You must know what you're doing. Where did you teach before?"
"I was a teaching assistant at Columbia and took over a couple of classes there late last semester when my advisor's wife was dying, but otherwise, I haven't taught," answered Heyes honestly.
The younger Mercer studied his office mate with a quizzical look.
"I know, I know, I'm real old to be starting out teaching, with just an MA," said Heyes.
"Well, yeah, you look to be more than twenty-three, it's true," admitted Mercer. "It's my first teaching job and that's how old I was when i got my MA."
"Not me," snorted Heyes. "I'm thirty-eight. I didn't even start college until I was thirty-three."
"Oh. What were you doing before?" Seeing the discomfort in his new office mate's brown eyes, the young biologist said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."
"No, it's alright. I know my history is kind of unusual." As his office mate turned back to working on his papers, Heyes explored his desk, finding a mostly used up pad of paper and some pens and pencils rolling around in the top drawer. There was a small file drawer that would come in handy. Heyes was scribbling a to do list on his pad. He realizes there was something he was missing. Heyes said, "Excuse me, Professor Mercer, do you have an eraser I can use?"
The young new professor looked up from making notes on a legal pad. "Sure." He tossed a little pink rubber block to Heyes, who caught it gracefully. "And you sure don't have to be so formal. My friends call me Rolland. Or just Roll."
Heyes grinned. "Thanks, Rolland. Most of my friends just call me Heyes, but Joshua is what I'd like to use on campus."
The young biologist was cheerful. "Sure, Joshua. What's the initial H stand for, if you don't mind my asking"
Heyes bit his lip and hesitated. He saw his concern reflected in Mercer's face. "I can tell you, if you don't mind keeping it to yourself until I give you the word. Or the president does, or the dean."
Now Joshua had Rolland's full attention. "Of course – I can keep a secret."
"My first name is Hannibal." Heyes paused, watchfully gauging his office mate's reaction.
It took only a second for the revelation to hit home with Professor Mercer. "Oh. Oh my God! So that's what you did before."
Heyes said, "Yeah. Robbed banks and trains. My partner and I went straight eight years ago and we got amnesty this spring."
"After you spent a bit of time in prison." Clearly, Professor Mercer had been following the story in the newspapers, as had so many people.
"Yeah. Believe me, it was no fun. Jed and I are straight for good, so don't you worry." Heyes could see that Mercer was still a bit nervous.
Rolland Mercer was watching Hannibal Heyes. He wasn't yet sure how he felt about sharing an office with a former notorious outlaw. "So Jed is Kid Curry's real name?"
"Yeah. Jedediah. He's the sheriff over in Louisville these days. And he and his wife and I run a nice hotel." Heyes smiled hospitably. "If you ever need to recommend a place for folks to stay in Louisville, keep us in mind."
Rolland Mercer seemed to be adjusting quickly to what he had just learned, though he still sounded cautious. "Thank you. I appreciate your letting me know the truth. When are going to tell the rest of the faculty and the students and everybody?"
"I'm not sure. That's what the meeting with the dean and the president is going to be about," said Heyes. "So please, keep it under your hat. Thanks for not getting too upset about it. Oh well, I know we both have work to do." The new professor of mathematics bent over a notebook where he was writing out class plans.
When Heyes looked up from his work a few minutes later, he saw Rolland sneaking a glance at him. The former outlaw went back to work planning classes. But he knew he would have to watch himself around this one professor, other than the dean, who knew who about his past. He had to keep deserving the trust Professor Mercer was tentatively giving him.
So Heyes was careful to wait for Mercer to step out of the office before he took his gun and holster out of his saddlebags and hid them behind a couple boxes of old student papers on the top shelf of the office's single book case.
Later that morning, Professor Heyes, Dean Sargent, and the President of the University held a little meeting in the President's elegant office. The bearded, elderly President stood while his two employees sat in arm chairs, looking up at him.
"Heyes, like the four governors who gave you your amnesty, I insist that you teach under your true, full name. As you requested, I haven't given your first name to anyone outside of this room, other than our board members and my secretary. But we can't keep this a secret." The President could be a witty man, but at this moment he looked extremely serious.
Owen Sargent was just as concerned as was his boss. "No, not when the main body of the faculty starts to arrive, next week. Your last name may sound common, but that spelling is too unusual. Someone is going to put H. Joshua Heyes and Hannibal together in a hurry. We have to count on that."
Heyes' brown eyes with filled with agitation as he got to his feet. "But if the kids, pardon me, the students, know who I am when they sign up for classes, I won't have anyone in my class except adventure seekers and reprobates. If you can see any way for me to do it, I really want to have a few weeks with them before they know who I really am – or was."
"No, Heyes. We have to tell the truth right from the beginning. Otherwise no one will ever trust you, or me, again." The President was adamant.
Heyes was just as determined on his side, "But Mr. President, how am I going to be able to teach math if all they want to do is talk about hold-ups and jail breaks? Come on, give me a week or two to get established before I have to fess up."
"Heyes, it isn't what the students want that matters. You have to take the lead and do it firmly. And there is just no way that you're going to be able to keep your full name from those students. Much less from the faculty and staff. I insist on the truth. Right away. Today. Or at least, as soon as more of the faculty arrives." The President's grey beard was bristling.
"Just one week – give me just one week of classes to get the students comfortable with me before I break the news to them. Please." Heyes was desperate and he let the President see it.
"The truth, Heyes. Didn't you read those amnesty documents you showed me?" The President wouldn't budge.
"Do I teach or be some kind of cowboy counselor? If you want me to teach math, the students have to see me as a math teacher first. Then, once they find out my first name, they'll see me as a teacher who was an outlaw. If they learn my full name first, they'll see me as an outlaw who's trying to teach math. Then they won't give me any real chance to teach."
The President paused and considered this. Sargent, who had stayed silent during this tense exchange, finally spoke. "Sir, I think Heyes has a point. He's had a lot of experience in the last three months telling people who he is. He knows how they react."
"Alright, Heyes." said the President at last. "I admit it. You and Sargent are right." Heyes signed in relief. His task would be hard enough, but if he could have some time, it might be possible. "But I'm giving you only one day of secrecy for each class you're teaching – one Wednesday for the first meeting of the first class on September 9th, and one Thursday for the first meeting of the second class. That next Monday, when your first class meets for the second time, you must tell them." Heyes looked up in distress. This was barely any reprieve at all. "We'll tell the faculty at the semester opening meeting Monday after next and say their jobs are at stake if they let the news out early. They won't like it. It might make a lot of them not like you, Heyes. And word might get out before we plan on it, no matter what our plans are. But on the Monday morning starting the second week of classes, when you're telling your students your name, we'll let the faculty loose to talk, and the students. That's an order. No more debate."
"Yes sir," answered Heyes in resignation. He had a hard assignment ahead of him – to establish himself with his classes in two days and then to keep himself established through the shock of the revelation of his identity. But if word got out too soon, that would make things for Heyes much, much worse. If word slipped put early, he would just have to deal with whatever happened as well as he could.
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As Heyes walked down the hall from that meeting, with Sargent and the President by his side, they met a tall man with graying dark hair and a superior manner. The President introduced him,
"Heyes," he said, "this is Dr. George Powers, Professor of History. Powers, this is our new mathematics man – professor Heyes. Columbia University – summa cum laude. He just graduated with his MA and he's already publishing scholarly papers and corresponding with scholars in France, Germany, and Austria."
Powers smiled with pleasure at hearing those succinctly stated qualifications and knowing they would bring added prestige to his own place of work. He leaned forward to shake Heyes' hand, "Welcome to Colorado, Professor Heyes! It's a pleasure to have a real scholar in our midst. I hope the rough western conditions won't pose a problem."
Heyes smiled at the irony, but also in pleasure at meeting someone who seemed so pleased to greet him as part of a scholarly community. "Thank you, Powers! I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm from a Kansas farm, originally, and I've ridden all over the West, so I'm used to rough conditions. Where did you study?"
"Harvard, BA, Princeton, MA and PhD," Powers answered with pride. Heyes whistled. The very names were impressive.
As they stood greeting each other, a stocky black-haired man came along and stuck out his hand. "You must be the new mathematics professor. I'm Harold Goldberg – Latin. Heyes, is it?"
"Yes, sir!" said Heyes with a smile.
Torrence laughed engagingly, "You don't have to say sir, Heyes – you aren't a student any longer! I've heard about your record – very impressive! Very impressive, indeed!"
It was wonderful to be greeted with respect and pleasure by fellow academics, but Heyes couldn't help bracing himself and wondering which of the colleagues he was meeting would pull away in scorn and shock when they learned about his past. He had the distinct feeling that Professor Powers would be one of them. Maybe the affable Goldberg would be, as well. What would it take to win over such men? Heyes would have to figure out the answer, just as he would answer any equation – but this would be a much more complex, and important, problem to solve. And there might not always be an answer.
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Dean Sargent led Heyes into an office with the sign "Secretary" on the door. Notes and postcards from faculty and students traveling around the country adorned a bulletin board, along with a valentine and a chromolithographed Christmas card reeking of student humor. A 50ish woman sat behind the desk, wearing the type of conservative dark dress and neat bun Heyes had learned to expect from women in academia. In fact, she was the same woman who had directed Heyes and the dean, in their cowboy disguises, to the dean's office only the day before. But she seemed not to recognize Heyes, or she was very discrete, for she gave no indication of being aware that they had met before.
Sargent gestured toward his new colleague. "Colleen, this is Professor Heyes, who'll be teaching mathematics for us on that new endowment. Heyes, this is Colleen Hubble, our faculty secretary. I don't have to tell you, she's the lady nobody around here can do without. I've got a meeting with some department heads, so I'll leave you to it," added Sargent.
The new professor had been around academia enough to know what Dean Sargent meant about this lady. Heyes needed to get along with her. She would be the one who got everyday administrative functions to happen smoothly. No faculty member could manage for long without the secretary's good will. So Heyes set out to do a certain amount of chaste wooing.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hubble – or is it Miss?" said Heyes with a winning smile at the petite woman.
The secretary smiled at Heyes with a wary, curious look from behind her pewter-rimmed glasses. Heyes wondered if she might possibly already have some idea of his unusual past, or maybe she did recognize him, after all. "Miss, but please call me Colleen. Welcome to the University of Colorado, Professor Heyes. I hope you'll enjoy being here. We'll be very different from a metropolitan school like Columbia, I'm afraid."
"Just different in good ways, to me, Colleen," said Heyes. "Colorado has been home to me for years, between semesters. I can't tell you how happy I am to get to teach here, where my friends and family are." Heyes didn't extend the privilege of his middle name to Colleen. Nor would she have expected it. That wasn't done in a university. Professors were Professor to everyone except the president, other faculty members, and perhaps some board members who cared to get chummy. The authority of its professors was the bedrock of any university. But that didn't keep staff and faculty from being friendly with each other.
Colleen looked collegial enough as she handed a small stack of papers to her new colleague. "I have a form for you to fill out, of course. You know how that is. Nothing happens without forms – not even at a little school like this one. Here's the form, Professor Heyes. A few pages, I'm afraid. Please get it right back to me. Don't forget. You aren't getting paid without it."
"Yes, Ma'am!" said Heyes brightly. He took the form away to fill it out in his office. Rolland Mercer was still quietly at work. Heyes hid his trepidation about filling in any form these days. After all, the notorious name Hannibal Heyes would be blazoned across the top of it for all to see. The addition of a middle name made little difference to that. And then there was the fearful challenge of his employment background before he had gone straight. Most of that, however, was taken care of by putting "see attachment" into a reasonably appropriate block. Then he added certified copies of his pardon and amnesty documents to the back. So a half hour later it took a fair degree of acting for Heyes to stay casual about handing the form, with attachments, to Colleen. He knew perfectly well that school secretaries are the central distributers of academic information – including gossip. Heyes hoped Miss Hubble could be counted upon to be discrete when it was necessary – as it was in this case.
Heyes paused a moment in front of Colleen's desk as she examined the form. He might as well get the awkwardness over with now.
She cleared her throat and looked interrogatively at Heyes over her glasses. "So it's true. You really are . . .?"
"Yes." Heyes had no need to wait for the end of that sentence. "I'm sure Dean Sargent and the President will have some things to say to you about that. About the press and so on. We won't be telling the faculty until the semester opening meeting and the students on the first Monday of classes. I'm starting to get used to the publicity after all those years in hiding, but it doesn't mean I like it."
One corner of Colleen's mouth twitched very slightly while the rest of her face stayed professionally detached. "Dean Sargent told me on no account to reveal your first name to anyone without his express permission. Middle name, yes. First initial, yes. First name, no. He didn't tell me what that name was, knowing I'd see the form later. But I had a feeling. Your last name has kind of a rare spelling."
"And you can read a newspaper as well as anyone." Heyes allowed himself a slight, hopeful smile. At least she didn't seem to be frightened of him. She didn't back away or shut down the way so many people did on learning about his past.
The lady ventured, "Yes. It must be hard."
There were so many things about his life that were hard just now that Heyes had to ask, "Hard? What do you mean?"
"To go from one world to another," said Colleen sympathetically.
"Oh. That's a pretty accurate way to put it, actually. I'm still feeling my way. I can use all the help I can get. Math, I know my way around. I've spent only a few years in the academic world as a student. As a professor, it's brand new to me. So I'll need to lean on you a lot. I just hope I – my past – doesn't cause you too many problems. How long have you been working here?" Heyes neatly guided the conversation away from his own past and toward the secretary's past in a way that he hoped came off as modest and perhaps even flattering.
"Since we were founded – in '76." Miss Hubble looked proud of this.
Heyes said, "You must have started as a babe in arms."
"You're a flatterer, Professor Heyes. I'll have to watch out for you. The janitor and the President both used to live in this same building. I could tell you some pretty colorful stories. And I probably will, poor man. We have come a long way, but I guess we still have a long way to go. And as for problems, I can't imagine that you cause any more problems for other people than they do for you." Heyes guessed that she was chattering to cover a little nervousness at meeting him.
"Hey, I can't complain. At least it isn't legal to murder me anymore." Heyes shrugged.
"Murder you?! It used to be legal to murder you?" The secretary clasped one hand to her bosom in genuine shock.
Heyes stayed nonchalant. "Sure. Not just legal – encouraged. What do you think wanted dead or alive means?"
"Goodness! I never quite saw it that way." Colleen was fascinated.
Heyes said, "From the inside, you mean."
"Yes, I suppose I do. Come to think of it, when it comes to colorful stories, I imagine you could beat me all hollow, as they say. In any case, please do ask me anything at all. With any question, you might feel stupid for asking, but you'd feel a lot stupider not knowing." She rattled off the last sentence so easily that it was clear she had repeated it many times.
"Thank you, Colleen." Heyes was grateful to the secretary for staying on the introductory information he needed rather than being distracted by his celebrity. "I'm sure I'll take you up on that often. Like right now. Where's a good place for lunch?"
"Why, Mr. Heyes, are you asking me to dine with you?" The sly smile accompanying this remark showed that she was kidding, but perhaps wished that she weren't.
The new professor smiled. "That would be very pleasant, but right now I doubt you have the time. I hear another professor coming down the hall to plague you. So I think I'd better dine alone."
"Well, where you want to dine depends upon your taste and your funds. And whether you have means of transportation. Do you?"
Heyes answered, "Yes. My horse is tied out back. He's the same horse that used to keep me clear of posses, by the way. Old Clay has saved my life more than once."
"My goodness!" exclaimed Colleen, openly enjoying the thrill of this reference. "I would suggest the Black Angus Grill downtown. But only if you're really hungry and have some substantial cash. There are a few bars with less costly sandwiches if you have less time and appetite. The Red and Black is said to be good, although it is hardly a place I myself would be expected to frequent. So I cannot speak from personal experience. And even less so the Golden Nugget, which includes entertainment, of a sort. Perhaps you can get in a hand of poker with your meal?"
Heyes chuckled. "Just lunch will do for today, Miss Hubble. I have meetings and a lot of work to do. And I'll save the Black Angus until you feel like scandalizing Boulder society, and my wife, by being seen on the arm of a notorious former outlaw." He winked at the secretary and went in search of a sandwich and a beer. He was pretty sure that he had just successfully recruited a vital ally.
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But Heyes' real allies were the ones who greeted him gladly as he rode home from his first day at the University of Colorado.
"Heyes!" Cried the Kid happily as he rode up behind his partner on the path leading from the main road to the house. "How'd it go?"
The two men rode side side. "Fine and dandy, Kid," said the new professor. "How about with you?"
"Oh, pretty good. I talked with that sign painter we talked about. He brought me a couple of sketches for the hotel sign. I'll show you after we finish up in the stable."
"Great!" Exclaimed Heyes. But then he looked concerned, as he saw Doctor Grauer's wagon pulling up outside the house. "Uh-oh. I hope the girls are alright. And Charlie."
Curry laughed as he dismounted and started to lead Blackie toward the stable. "Don't you fret, Heyes. We invited the Doc to dinner. We thought he and Charlie would get along."
The pair of ex-outlaws chatted companionably in the stable as they untacked their horses in neighboring stalls. "So, what went on at school?" Asked the Kid.
Heyes hung up Clay's bridle on a hook outside the stall as he told his partner, "They decided we can wait to tell the students my first name until we start the second week of classes, though the faculty will find out a couple of days before classes start. The president will ask them to keep it to themselves."
"Hah! We'll see how long that lasts," scoffed the sheriff as he carried his saddle to the tack room. "But I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't leak out from here. We can wait to put the new name on the hotel until they put your name out at the university."
"Thanks, Jed," said Heyes walked behind his partner with his own saddle. "I appreciate that. I know it's a pain."
The Kid crossed his stirrups over the seat of his saddle. "No problem, Heyes. Keeping it a secret will get us publicity. Good publicity. Folks will be curious. Don't you think?"
"Yeah, I hope," replied the new professor. Then the two rubbed down their mounts and watered them.
As the pair finished their work and closed the stall gates behind them, the Kid said, "Gosh, I'm hungry. Race you to the house!" He took off running before his partner had agreed to the race. Heyes started after him, laughing as he thought how long it had been since they raced against each other like boys.
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Historical Note. Many American nineteenth-century campuses outlawed guns, especially after the Civil War, but many others did not. I not sure of the rules at the University of Colorado in the early 1890s.
The names of the Dean and professors at the University of Colorado are invented, although the President is a real person. President Horace Hale was said to be rather straight-laced for his western setting. Thanks to historical catalogues scanned and put on line, I do know all the real names of the University of Colorado faculty, and even the students of fall 1891, but I don't want to be tied down to trying to recreate a whole array of historical people, or to take chances on offending their descendants.