The distant hills shimmered in the heat as two riders made their way slowly over the parched ground. A harsh, hot wind gusted giving no relief; its sole purpose to drive along the tumbleweeds and whip up tiny dust devils which then wove their way between patches of creosote and mormon-tea.

Blue eyes squinted despite the brim of a brown hat tilted low to shade them from the glare. The rider turned his horse on the spot in order to study the horizon in every direction, paying particular attention to the way they had come.

Hannibal Heyes wriggled his fingers into the pocket of his pants to pull out a blue polka-dot bandana. There was no point using the one tied around his neck — it was saturated. Tipping his hat to the back of his head he wiped the film of sweat from his face. He didn't know why he was bothering; it would be replaced by more, seconds later. "Any sign of 'em?"

"Nope. I know we lost 'em yesterday back in that canyon, but it don't hurt to keep lookin'," replied an ever-vigilant Kid Curry.

"For a small-town posse they sure were a determined bunch."

"Twenty thousand dollars buys a lot of determination, Heyes."

"Yeah, well, for a while there I thought that chase was gonna be the end of us and these horses. Just look at them, they can barely stand. We've gotta get them some food and water soon or we'll be walking, not riding, the rest of the way."

"Can't be much farther, can it?" Kid nudged his horse into a walk.

"Well, if I remember right, it isn't far beyond that line of hills."

Unlike his cousin, Kid Curry ignored the trailing beads of sweat that were making their way down his cheek and gave a vague shake of his head. "Pfft. I can't believe we're goin' back there."

"Kid, it's the nearest place I know where we can hole up for a while." There was a tired edge to Heyes' voice as he too urged his horse forward. "What have you got against Apache Springs, anyhow?"

"Oh, I haven't got anythin' against it. Never had a mind to go back, is all." Kid shrugged amiably before adding, "D' you think Smithers is still running the hotel?"

"I can't think who else would want to do it. Anyway, all we need for a few days is a bed and a saloon — and that place has both." With a salacious smirk Heyes added, "Of course, if you're hankerin' after something sweet and soft and pretty, then you're gonna be out of luck. Sister Grace is most likely long gone."

Kid's humourless smile told his partner what he thought about that remark. "I'll be happy with a bath, a meal and a bed to sleep in 'cause sleepin' is all I plan on doin'."

It was almost a year to the day since the two former outlaws had ridden into the old mining town of Apache Springs, their hearts set on enjoying a few days peace and quiet. Instead, Caroline Rangeley, a somewhat eccentric middle-aged widow, had persuaded them to retrieve some gold dust which she and her dearly departed husband had hidden in twelve separate locations up in the surrounding hills. This had sounded like a simple enough task — not to mention easy money; all they had to do was follow the directions on the map she gave them, dig up the gold, and half of it was theirs. Caroline had mentioned that some fifty or sixty Chiricahua Apaches had broken out of their reservation and returned to the hills but assured them that they wouldn't be in the area she was sending them to. On their first trip they managed to retrieve two one-thousand-dollar caches before being shot at and chased by the Chiricahua. However, after due consideration and a night of drinking and playing poker in the saloon they returned in search of more of the gold only to once again fall foul of the Apaches. Add to this the presence of Edward Fielding, a representative from the Bureau of Indian Affairs sent to negotiate with the tribe, his wife Lucy who didn't, under any circumstance, want to be out West and a pretty young evangelist by the name of Sister Grace, it had turned out to be an eventful stay. They hoped that this time things would be quieter.

Having taken the precaution of doubling back a couple of times in case the posse tried to pick up their trail again, they eventually found themselves riding down Apache Springs' main street. After not more than a few yards Kid abruptly reined in his mount, twisting in his saddle as he looked about him.

Heyes sighed and asked impatiently, "Now what?"

"This is the right place?"

Heyes prided himself on never forgetting a town or a sheriff and in his current hot and trail-weary state resented his cousin's dubiety. "Course it is. Look!" he snapped, indicating a tattered sign. "It says, Apache Springs Assay Office."

"Well, I sure don't remember it being like this."

"What are you talking about?" Heyes glanced around. The street was deserted — same as before. The Assay Office sign squeaked loudly as it swung in the wind — same as before. Tumbleweeds blew across their path — same as...

Then he saw what Kid meant.

Although it had given a very good impression of a ghost town the last time they were here, the old mining town now appeared to actually be one. Most of the street doors were missing and the few that were still in place flapped noisily back and forth in the perpetual wind. Almost all the windows were smashed or had broken shutters hanging precariously on their hinges. Shards of glass and other debris that hadn't yet been blown away littered the boardwalks.

"Heyes, this don't feel right." Kid kept his voice low and his right hand resting on the butt of his revolver.

"I'm inclined to agree with you. Let's take a look at the hotel."

Continuing cautiously past the livery stable's empty corral they dismounted in front of the largest building in town. Leaving the horses in a patch of shade, both men drew their weapons. His gun leading the way Kid Curry eased the front door open and both men jumped as a cracked pane of glass fell to the floor with a crash. Grinding the glass beneath their boots they entered the lobby and stood in shocked silence.

Pages torn from the register and other ledgers were scattered everywhere as were the room keys. Any pictures still hanging from their hooks on the walls did so at an obtuse angle, the lobby desk was on its side and the stairway had over half of its balusters missing. Even the large, carved newel post leaned precariously.

Walking through to the saloon they stared in disbelief at the wanton destruction. Chairs and tables resembled firewood. The mirror behind the bar was smashed as were the glasses and bottles, the contents of which had left large stains on the bar and the floor as they dried. In fact, it appeared that everything that could break had been broken.

"What the...?."

The dark-haired partner shook his head. "Must have been one hell of a Saturday night."

At the rear of the building they came to the kitchen which had been completely ransacked. Rotting foodstuffs were strewn everywhere, those that had not been eaten by vermin anyway, and the whole place smelled foul. Both men barely breathed as they surveyed the mess before making their way out of the back door and into the fresh air.

"What do you think happened here, Heyes?"

"Could have been bandits from Mexico. A bunch of renegade soldiers, maybe? I've heard they sometimes raid small towns like this." Heyes glanced sideways at this partner. "You got any ideas?"

Kid shrugged. "There's always Apaches."

"It's possible, but I don't recall ever hearing about them attacking a town. Let's take a look upstairs."

As Heyes turned and put his hand on the doorframe Kid grabbed his arm. "Hold up, Heyes. What's that over there?" he said, pointing toward the hot, barren landscape.

Heyes adjusted his hat and took a long look. "Hmm, could be a body. C'mon."

The closer they got the clearer it became that what they had seen was indeed a body. It was a man, face down in the dirt, and it had been there for some time. Flies buzzed noisily over what was left of the putrid flesh clinging to his bones but this didn't bother them quite as much as the missing scalp or the two arrows sticking out of the victim's back.

"Aaww, no," groaned Curry. "I think it's Smithers."

Hannibal Heyes took a deep breath and holding it moved a few steps closer to push over what was left of the corpse with a hefty flick of his boot. This succeeded in disturbing a multitude of flies, beetles and ants as well as releasing an overpowering stench which made both men take a few quick steps backwards and turn away as they fought the urge to gag. With watering eyes Heyes looked back over his shoulder and croaked, "I'd say that's Smithers alright; well, what's left of him, poor devil. He must've been trying to make a run for it."

"I thought Fielding said the Chiricahua had agreed to return to the reservation."

"He did say that," agreed Heyes. "Maybe the negotiations turned sour or the army decided to come in and move them by force. It probably wouldn't take much more than that to set them on a warpath."

"I can't believe Smithers is still lying out here in one piece... well, kinda one piece." Kid regarded the corpse again and shuddered. "I'd have thought the coyotes would have torn him apart by now. How long ago do you think this happened?"

Tired of having to breathe through his already dry mouth Heyes started to retrace his steps. "Three weeks, maybe four. Let's go put the horses up, Kid, then we'll look around some more."

Kid Curry flung his arms wide. "So, we're just gonna leave him like this?"

"Do you wanna get close enough to bury him?" Heyes called back. "Because I don't. Anyway, I doubt whether you'd get a shovel in this ground. It's like rock. If we find something that'll cover him then we can come back and say a few words, okay?"

With a sigh Kid followed his partner.

The livery stable still had a good supply of straw and they even discovered a half-used bag of grain which had not yet been consumed by vermin and didn't smell mouldy. No horses or mules remained but all the tack was still there — Indians didn't tend to have much use for saddles. Having brushed down their horses they left them munching happily on a good portion of the feed and returned to the hotel.

Making their way upstairs they searched all the bedrooms but thankfully there were no bodies. Finding one of the rooms at the front of the building to be relatively intact, except for the windows, they dropped their saddlebags onto the bed and returned downstairs to explore further. A soft dusty bed was better than hard dusty ground and it would suffice for a night or two provided they could find some food to supplement their own dwindling supplies.

The general store across the street was their next stop. Here, every sack containing dry goods was slit open, the contents spilling out all over the floor, but they did manage to gather together a number of undamaged cans of tomatoes and peaches, as well as a few containing oysters.

Venturing through to the rear of the store they came upon another gruesome find. The storekeeper, Mister Evans, was slumped against the side of the outhouse, his condition not much better than Smithers'. He had met an equally grisly death; his throat had been cut from ear to ear.

"I don't know about you," said Kid, "but I don't much like the idea of staying here too long."

"So you don't fancy living on peaches and oysters?"

"It's not that, Heyes, it's... Well, it's... kinda creepy."

"Don't tell me you're scared of Smithers' ghost!" scoffed Heyes.

"No, I ain't scared of ghosts but I am a might fearful of Apaches."

Heyes nodded. He shared that sentiment alright. "Shame they've taken all the ammunition. I don't think they'll come back anytime soon but, if they did, we might stand a chance of holding them off using our rifles if we had a good supply of bullets. Evans kept a whole stash of them here," Heyes added as he rummaged through what was left in the drawers behind the counter.

"I've got almost a full box in my saddlebags but that wouldn't last long," confirmed Curry.

"Hmm. Then I guess we'd better rest up for a couple of days and move on. Tucson ain't much but it will be paradise after this!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Having scoured the remainder of the town and not found a living soul, only a handful of corpses all with missing scalps, they returned to the hotel where Heyes managed to track down the only intact bottle of whiskey in the whole place. Neither man happened to have much of an appetite for food so they sat on the floor with their backs against the bar, passing the precious commodity back and forth between them.

Eventually, Heyes got to his feet and walked back to the lobby where he stood thoughtfully rubbing his stubble-covered chin. Kid Curry's eyes followed him with interest.

"What is it, Heyes?"

"I was just wondering if there's anything in this old safe."

"Wondering, huh? Hoping, more like! I know you, Heyes. You think Caroline's map is still in there, dontcha?"

Glancing over his shoulder Heyes raised an eyebrow. "Maybe." He began to pull off his gloves.

Curry placed the half empty liquor bottle on the bar before ambling over to join him. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist it," he stated, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

"Well, it don't belong to anyone anymore, Kid, so I won't be committing a crime."

Heyes knelt down in an all-too-familiar pose next to the safe, his eyes twinkling in anticipation of pitting his wits against the tumblers, not to mention the thought of getting his not yet fully reformed larcenous fingers on whatever was inside. He had opened several safes since they had started trying for the amnesty but had only done so in order to look through the contents or to put money back. He had certainly not taken anything — except for that old bust of Caesar for Big Mac McCreedy — but, in Heyes' estimation, that came under the category of 'recovery of stolen property' and therefore didn't count as theft.

"You want me to time you for old time sake?" asked Kid, reaching into his pocket.

Heyes glanced again at the manufacturer's name. "Mason and Mason. If I remember right, I used to open one of these little darlin's in about three minutes." Flexing his fingers he placed his ear to the metal door and took hold of the dial.

Kid concentrated on his timepiece. "Ready... Go!"

Heyes gently turned the dial clockwise until he heard a click, slowly turned it back in the opposite direction until he heard another, then clockwise again, even more slowly this time, listening intently for the third and final tumbler to fall into place. At last there was a click loud enough even for Kid to hear and he noted the time. Brown eyes glanced up enquiringly. "Well?"

A shake of the blond head. "Pfftt. A little over four minutes, Heyes. Pretty slow — for you."

"That's what happens when you don't get any practice," replied the retired safe-cracker as he pushed the handle forward and turned his attention to the small vault. "Now, let's see what we have here."

The minute the door swung open Heyes' eyes came to rest on a small bundle of dollar bills which he didn't bother to count before shoving it into his pocket. Ignoring several old ledgers he pulled out a lock box.

"Ah, this could be it."

Returning to the bar, Heyes swept away some of the broken glass and proceeded to pick the lock on the metal box. Unable to break the habit of a lifetime he always had a lock pick tucked away somewhere on his person. In the time it took for Curry to cross the room after him, he had it open. Inside was a large piece of paper with a good portion of the bottom right-hand side missing. Unfolding it Heyes immediately recognised the obscure drawing to be the locations of Caroline Rangeley's caches of gold dust. Now, however, there were only two sites that didn't have a large cross drawn through them.

"Looks like old Caroline did what she said she was gonna do — go and get rest of the gold by herself," said Heyes, the faintest trace of disappointment in his voice.

"Well, she must've lit out soon after 'cause we ain't found her body anywhere in town."

Tapping the map with his fingers, Heyes mused, "Wonder why she didn't go after these two?"

"Maybe that part of the hills is still overrun by the Chiricahua."

"Don't say that!"

Kid stared at Heyes, his eyes narrowing with disapproval. "You can't be thinkin' of going after those two caches? You're outta your mind!"

Heyes smirked at his cousin's appraisal. "Maybe just a little. But, Kid... two thousand dollars! We could really enjoy Tucson with that kinda money."

"Yeah, we could, if we don't lose our scalps trying to get it!"