"You sure this'll work, Heyes?" asked Kid Curry, skeptically. His blue eyes slid sideways towards his dark-haired partner as their horses ambled quietly along the overgrown trail. Hannibal Heyes was astride a bay gelding and leading a sorrel pack mule laden with goods.
"It'll work," was the emphatic answer.
"I don't know…" The Kid watched as the muscles in his cousin's jaw tightened.
"That's right. You don't know. I do."
"Seems to me lots could go wrong." With pleasure, Curry saw Heyes' brows knot together and lower alarmingly.
"Quit your worrying. Nothing's going to go wrong. The plan's going to work."
"Ain't that what you said before the Hanford job?" The Kid saw Heyes' teeth actually clench and observed a lovely flush of color rising from his shirt collar. Hanford always worked.
Heyes reined up and his stormy eyes drilled into his friend's. "What's with you, Kid? You turning yellow?"
"Nope. Just doin' my job makin' sure you've done yours," said Curry, innocently.
"It's done so you can shut your trap. My plan'll work."
"If it don't, we better have a plan B."
"We don't need a damn Plan B, Plan A's gonna work!" snapped Heyes as he spurred his horse into a jog leaving a delighted Curry behind.
The sun hadn't been up long when the two men emerged from the forest and halted their horses atop a small ridgeline overlooking the town of Peaceful. The town looked anything but. Even from this distance, it was plain the burg was bustling with people. Wagons and carriages were clogging the streets and people dashed crazily between the conveyances. Everywhere there was movement. Banners flapped across the main street and shopkeepers were polishing windows and sweeping the sidewalks. The sound of hammering drifted across the tops of the oats rippling in the fields. A gentle breeze carried joyous laughter to the ears of the two horsemen. It also carried the scent of freshly baked pies and cakes.
"Ahh," sighed the Kid, happily. "The fourth always brings out a crowd, don't it?" He was watching a pretty girl gathering wildflowers from around a small pond on the edge of town. A small boy wrestled with his dog nearby. Several streets over, three boys ran down an alley. One of them gripped an upside down, flapping, squawking hen by her feet. "Remember that fourth you got caught stealing eggs from Mrs. Hogg's henhouse? Your Pa was so mad he made you work the kissin' booth all day. If he'd only known you're were plannin' to ambush Walter and his gang for beatin' us up the week before maybe he would've gone a little easier on you, huh?"
"Hmpf," responded Heyes. He was holding the field glasses up to his eyes and focusing in on one structure in the center of town. The one bearing a large sign stating, 'Bank of Peaceful'.
"Clay Barnett paid a dime and dared Jimmy Phipps to kiss you and he did. The look on your face was a sight to behold." Curry laughed heartily until he reached up and wiped at the corner of his eye.
The dark man's attention never wavered from the dusty brick building and the equally dusty, big man leaning against the front window. "I don't recall you being all that happy at the time. Leastways, not after Mary Sue Wright paid a whole five dollars to have me all to herself the rest of the day. Say, Kid, weren't you sweet on her?"
"I'd forgotten about that," the smile slid from the Kid's face and he frowned, turning to glare at his partner, who was tucking away the binoculars into his saddlebags.
"Time to go. Wheat just gave me the signal." Heyes wheeled his glossy bay on his heels and tugged on the mule's lead. It and Curry grudgingly followed.
A tuba bleated off-tune notes as a small parade marched into town. Civil war veterans held themselves in rigid formation, their chests puffed out proudly displaying their moth-eaten uniforms. A group of farmers drove a small herd of dairy cows before them. Two boys walked unsteadily on pairs of stilts, while three girls wrangled a recalcitrant billy goat festooned with a chain of daisies. They were followed by a mounted troop of young cowboys waving their matching ten gallons. The upper classes of the Peaceful school sang "My country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty," until their voices turned raspy and finally gave out. Then the speeches started. The town square was filled to overflowing with citizens.
"Yeah, it's done. It's all done, Heyes. Ain't no need to keep askin'," grumbled Wheat Carlson. He leaned back in his chair and glanced around the crowded saloon. The place was filling up early as the temperature rose outside. It was a scorcher. He raised his meaty hand and signaled the bartender to bring another round. "The boys know what needs doin'. It'll go slick as a whistle."
"It'd better." The outlaw leader held up his empty mug as the bartender came by with a pitcher sloppily spilling beer into it and onto the floor. Heyes gave him a curt nod and hand him two bits.
"Where's your partner?" asked Wheat. Heyes' scowl deepened, but he said nothing. "You on the outs again? You two fight more'n tomcats in a sack." Chuckling, the big man drained his glass in one long draw and plunked it down on the table.
Heyes fixed a gimlet eye on his lieutenant. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Wheat?"
Throughout the day, the Devil's Hole Gang enjoyed the festivities with some of them entering the shooting contest (but not Kid Curry) others opting for the pie-eating contest (definitely Kid Curry). Kyle even entered the horse race but fell off around the first turn when his mare went wide and was savaged by the horse she veered into before she threw a bucking fit. At dusk, sated outlaws gathered in a darkening alley.
"All right, listen up!" hissed the Kid. Once he had everyone's attention, he nodded to Heyes.
"It's 8: 42. I want you all in place no later than 9. Are you all clear on where you're supposed to be and what you're gonna do?" The leader of the gang had begun pacing back and forth in front of his men.
"Yessir, we know," piped up Kyle. "I can't hardly wait!"
"Good. Get going then and don't screw it up," growled Heyes, coming to a stop. He and the Kid watched their men disappear into the crowds.
"Way to talk 'em up, Heyes."
Dark, frosty eyes stared into calm, amused blue ones. "Can you please knock it off?"
"Knock what off?"
"Knock off needling me! I have enough to think about without your yapping."
"I thought the thinkin' was all done. Didn't you say you'd worked it all out?"
"ERG!"
"Time to wrap it up, partner," said Curry, peering out the window through tightly drawn curtains.
"Done." Heyes straightened up from a crouch and stretched his back. Reaching into the chest pocket of his blue shirt, he retrieved a small box of matches and withdrew one, but didn't light it. Instead, he waited.
A moment later a loud explosion rattled the windows. It was closely followed by another and then another. Soon the eruptions increased until there was little time between each detonation. Cheering could be faintly heard. The Kid watched as people on the street were drawn to the empty lot on the edge of town where Kyle would be lighting the Chinese fireworks Heyes had ordered special for this job. He watched for a while, enjoying the show, until a large missile ascended into the air and exploded into a cascade of red, white, and blue twinkling starbursts. "NOW!" he loudly hissed.
Heyes stooped and lit the short fuse to the bundle of dynamite he'd placed under the safe earlier. Both outlaws hurried to the next room to seek shelter behind an overturned desk and stuck their fingers in their ears. The cacophony outside rose to a fever pitch as the fuse burned down. The dynamite exploded at the same time a multitude of rockets detonated outside.
Kid popped up and hurried through the doorway. Heyes was right behind him when he heard his partner yelp. "What's wrong?!" The Kid fell back against him, his hand to his ear. A rocket had shot past him and exploded against a teller's cage.
"Are you all right? Kid, are you hurt?!" Heyes tried to pull the Kid's hand down, but he shook him off.
"$%&*! Get the money—get the dang money."
Heyes hurried to the safe. He pulled a canvas bag from his back pocket and quickly stuffed the cash into it. Drawing it closed, he rushed back to Curry. Blood was dripping down his partner's neck, but the blond man waved him towards the back door of the building. "Let's go!"
Lobo and Hank were waiting with the horses outside. Quickly mounting, the four men rode quietly out of the alley and walked their mounts up the street. Two blocks away, they were joined by Wheat and Preacher. There were very few people on the streets and the ones who were out were watching the night sky where a kaleidoscope of color lit the heavens and the thunder of fireworks deafened all ears. When the last staccato outburst died away, Kyle appeared. His face was blackened and he was bleeding in a few places, but the huge grin he wore belied any injuries.
"What happened to you?" asked Preacher.
"Dang but I must've mixed up a stick o'dynamite with the fireworks," said the smallish outlaw. "Hoo Wee, did ya see that show? Heyes' this was your best plan yet!"
Noticing the Kid's injury for the first time, Kyle couldn't hide his concern. "You all right, Kid?"
The Kid just stared at him unable to trust his mouth to answer civilly.
Heyes smiled. "He'll be fine, Kyle, once I clean him up."
"Good, 'cause it'd be hell tryin' to find a doc on a holiday."