This story is an attempt to address a grave inequity. If you are one of those inveterate Heyesians, who seem to be somewhat in the majority around here, "The Man Who Murdered Himself" is probably one of your favorite episodes. I will admit, it's kind of cool to see that Heyes is also a crack shot – although not as fast as the Kid; let's don't get carried away here! And his sideburns look especially good in this one – not too short and Darren Stevens-like, as they are in the Pilot, but not practically covering his entire cheek area like they do in "The Men Who Corrupted Hadleyburg." And I very much enjoy the little lap he takes around the chair when he decides to leave the sheriff's office, and is subsequently persuaded to stay. But if you are of the Curryphilic persuasion, watching this episode leaves you feeling as though you've been… well, to put it bluntly: cheated! We are treated to a mere handful of all-too-short scenes featuring Kid driving the wagon, explosives ominously clattering about in the back, plus two brief but exciting moments when our fair-haired hero leaps manfully behind nearby cover in mortal fear of obliteration by means of explosives. But come on! Fair is fair! I, for one, feel somewhat justified at the end of the episode, when we hear emanating from inside the saloon the unmistakable sound of the Kid "flattening" his partner …! So, in order to even the scales a bit, I thought I'd write a little story that answers the following question:
What if Kid Curry's journey to the mining camp hadn't been so uneventful after all…..?
The sky was a brilliant blue, with just a few wispy white clouds smeared across it, as a somewhat sullen Kid Curry guided the explosives-laden wagon up the dusty trail that led into the mountains and toward the mine. It was a lovely morning, warm but not too hot. A soft breeze was blowing and everything was quiet and peaceful.
But Curry was not enjoying it.
"It ain't fair," he grumbled to himself. "I found that job. Why does he get to take it?"
One of the two horses flicked his ears slightly at the sound of his voice, but the pair continued plodding along the dirt road stolidly. The driver of the laden wagon did not continue speaking. He was, in fact, lost in thought, despite what his partner frequently implied about his abilities – or lack thereof – in that particular arena...
After the partners had split up, each to his own job, Curry had resigned himself to his fate. He inspected the crates and barrels one last time, tightened a few knots here and there, finally satisfying himself that they would remain sturdily in place. But as he climbed back onto the seat and urged the team down the main street and toward the outskirts of town, he couldn't help thinking that Heyes, as usual, had gotten the better end of the deal. While he'd be – literally! - risking his ass, Heyes'd be off having a lark, riding into the Hole, playing guide to the archy-ologists, whatever they were. The Kid figured they were probably rich greenhorns from back east that would swallow any line of hogwash his silver-tongued partner fed them. Heyes'd probably pretend it was real dangerous in the Hole and make like he was risking his life to protect them, when they both knew good and well that Wheat and Kyle and the other boys wouldn't harm a hair on his (swollen!) head.
Curry formerly harbored the suspicion that his partner's coin was two-headed, seeing as he himself had a penchant for calling Tails and would inevitably lose the toss. But he'd taken a close look at the suspect coin and it seemed normal enough. Then he figured maybe it was weighted or something, but even when Kid had started to call Heads instead of Tails, he still came out the loser more often than not. So lately he'd been insisting Heyes use one of his coins. But doggone it, somehow Heyes still managed to win the toss the vast majority of the time! It must be the way he tosses it, pondered the Kid to himself… If anyone could toss a coin so's it would land in his favor, it'd have to be Heyes. Curry chuckled out loud in spite of himself and shook his head. If ever there was a man could beat the devil around the stump, it was Hannibal Heyes. Curry could just picture that group of swells settled around the campfire while his loquacious partner held them spellbound with some tall tale spawned from his fertile imagination.
"Aw, hell," he said out loud, grinning in spite of himself. He'd actually found both jobs, and it seemed as if each man had ended up with the one he was best suited to. Sure, the Kid could do everything the job advertisement had called for just as well as his partner, but he had to admit, Heyes was better with people than he was. Heck, he'd have those folks eatin' out of his hand. And he'd get that bonus for sure, in addition to the promised $30 a day!
Emerging from his black mood at last, Kid Curry couldn't help thinking it was actually kind of nice to be riding through the countryside on this beautiful sunny day, in the peace and quiet - just as long as he didn't think too hard about what might happen if he hit a really big bump. He began to whistle to himself, confident in his own ability to guide the horses and wagon over the rough terrain – and to jump out quickly if something went amiss. When this was all over, they'd have five hundred bucks between them – likely more if his partner got that bonus…
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Well, dear readers, now's about the time we'd cut over to that Other Fella and check in to see what he's up to, but then you already know what he's doing, don't you? So there's really no need, is there? Let's stick with the blue-eyed half of the dynamic duo instead...
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After a glorious sunset, the darkness began to gather quickly. Not wanting to risk hitting a large rut or stray rock invisible in the twilight, Curry decided to stop and make camp in a grassy level area near a small stream just off the trail. He unhitched the team of horses, let them take a nice long drink, then gave them a good rubdown and hobbled the pair in the deep grass near the small stream. He set about making a campfire and heating up some beans. He'd splurged and bought a can of peaches for dessert. Kid savored the syrupy sweetness sliding down his throat, but he felt a little lonely for his partner as he ate his solitary meal. Maybe he complained that Heyes talked too much - heck, sometimes he wouldn't shut up! But the Kid admitted to himself that it was sure nice to while away an evening out under the stars listening to his partner's tales. With a big sigh, he rose, stretched until his back cracked, then went about the business of washing up and getting ready for sleep…. What? You're saying this scene is boring? That nothing much happens during it? Well, the poor guy has to eat, right? And he's gotta get some rest before he climbs back onto that literal powder keg of a wagon in the morning, right? Sheesh. You people. Okay, okay, quit your belly-aching, you Heyes Groupies, you! Here's a missing scene that takes place after the sheriff's office scene. I figure Kid went ahead and left town soon after the coin toss while Heyes stuck around to meet Alexander and get hired. It's already dark when he visits the sheriff, and he and his group are planning to leave early the next morning. Now we all know Heyes doesn't require lots of sleep, so what did he do the rest of the evening….? Hmmmmm…. Maybe this:
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Hannibal Heyes exited the sheriff's office, chuckling to himself. Despite feeling just a tad trepidatious about his own party after learning of Mrs. Finney's false illness, the words of the sheriff still echoed in his ears, "A good lawman can generally feel when a feller's tellin' the truth to when he's lyin' to him." Well, I suppose he's right about that, Heyes thought to himself, grinning at the obvious irony. Kid would get a laugh over that one. But the thought of the Kid caused a small wriggling worry to begin to gnaw at his gut… Heyes immediately dismissed it. Kid would be fine, he assured himself and instead began to wonder about what was going on with the other members of his expedition. He would have to stay on the alert, that was certain. As he strolled down the main street toward the hotel, he passed the saloon and the welcoming sounds of tinny piano music and the dull roar of many masculine voices that emanated from the smoky interior. The small party planned to leave bright and early in the morning, but Heyes reckoned a hand or two of poker wouldn't keep him up too very late.
As soon as he pushed his way into the saloon, he could see there were no openings at any of the tables. He ordered a beer and leaned with his back against the bar while he sipped it, observing the players and hoping to get into a game. After a while it became apparent nobody was about to give up his seat anytime in the immediate future. Heyes let his thoughts wander back to his partner again and wondered where Kid was right now. It would take several days to get to the mines, so he'd be camped out somewhere along the trail, assuming nothing had gone wrong. Heyes tried not to dwell on that notion too long. He knew his partner would be careful, but that was a rough and rocky road up to the mine. Part of him wished he'd stopped Kid from delivering the explosives. But Kid was stubborn. And he'd been so proud of himself for finding that job. Heck, Kid was too doggone stubborn to let him get himself blowed up just so he could prove to Heyes he'd had a good idea after all! Heyes raised a silent toast to his partner, wishing him good luck, drained the rest of his beer, and headed toward the hotel.
Once inside, he locked the door and undressed for bed. It was a warm night, so he skinned off his Henley as well and lay bare-chested on the hotel bed, hands folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling and mulled over what he knew about the archaeology party so far. The soft golden light delicately caressed the muscles of his chest and abdomen as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier and he slowly drifted off to sleep…. There! That should keep you Heyes freaks happy for a little while! Just keep picturing that pretty little scene while we return to the real story…!
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It was mid-afternoon and the sun was strong enough that the Kid had had to remove his sheepskin jacket. He had already had two close calls that day, and also had endured some back-breaking pushing and shoving after the wagon had become mired in the mud. Although the countryside was just as peaceful and the weather as pleasant as it had been the day before, Curry found he wasn't in quite as light-hearted of a mood. Two times he had thrown himself to the ground, eyes squinted shut, hands over his ears, waiting to be blown to Kingdom Come. He was tense and anxious from being constantly on the alert and was mentally calculating how many more days of this punishment he'd have to undergo before arriving at the mine.
Curry saw the rattler before the pair of horses did. Scanning the road ahead for bumps and potholes, his sharp blue eyes caught the tell-tale shape of the snake, curled loosely in a sunny spot about ten yards ahead of them.
"Whoa," he called softly, pulling up on the reins.
The horses stopped obediently, then stood placidly, waiting to see what their driver would do. Curry waited, too – willing the snake not to make any sudden moves that would spook the animals, while he wondered how he was going to handle this situation. If he didn't have enough firepower to level the Wyoming Territorial Prison nestled just inches behind and beneath his backside, he'd have probably just shot the damn thing. But that was obviously not a smart move under these circumstances. Maybe he could ease out of the wagon, find a stick or something, and gently convince the snake to move along without disturbing his team. But as he scanned the side of the road for a nice long stick, one of the horses, apparently becoming impatient with the lack of forward movement nor any sign that he was going to be relieved of his harness and accompanying burden anytime soon, began to paw at the ground with one front hoof.
All snakes are deaf, of course, but anyone who knows something about snakes knows they can feel vibrations traveling through the earth. And this fellow was no exception. Immediately, it coiled itself tighter and began to shake its rattle menacingly. The horses instinctively recognized the warning signal and began to dance nervously and scrabble at the dusty earth frantically. Curry held them steady with the reins while speaking to them in a soothing voice.
When it became apparent that the animals were not going to calm down, Curry made a decision. For the third time that day, he leapt from the wagon and rolled behind a pile of conveniently placed boulders, cramming both his hands over his ears in anticipation of the deafening blast. He waiting, cringing, for what seemed a long, long time. Just when he thought it was safe to open his eyes, it happened.
He felt rather than heard the blast. It seemed to be centered in the back of his head – an explosion of pain at the base of his skull accompanied by a blinding white light that he could see even through closed eyelids. It was kinda funny, but his last conscious thought was of Kyle – maybe because he had been thinking about him just the day before. As the Kid felt himself sliding into black oblivion, he could picture the diminutive, scruffy outlaw, grinning happily and chortling gleefully, in his characteristic high-pitched twang,
"She's gonna blow sky-high!"
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Phew! It's a mite too soon to return to Heyes's POV, wouldn't you Kidettes agree? But really, isn't this a perfect time to cut away and leave everyone hanging? Wondering if Kid survived the blast? Has he been injured? Will he require comforting? Let's cut back over to What's-His-Name and let the angstyness build...
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Hannibal Heyes, sporting his tight-fitting butternut trousers tucked into knee-high black boots, was cinching his horse's girth. The hem of his short tan jacket hit him just below the waist, giving Julia "Finney" a lovely view from where she stood on the boardwalk, admiring his…horsemanship. "Julia, dear," the soft Irish brogue startled the woman out of her reverie. "Shall we proceed?" Soon the party was riding out of town, heading into the wilderness and toward their destination: Devil's Hole. Okay, enough of this drivel! Is Kid okay? Back to the good stuff!
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Curry woke slowly and gradually, climbing back to consciousness as if he were struggling up a steep, dark staircase while wading waist-deep through molasses. His head was pounding painfully and every bone in his body ached. Without opening his eyes, he gingerly tried to shift his limbs around, testing to see if anything was busted. Gradually, he came to realize he was lying in a bed. Well, calling it a bed was a mite generous. It was a somewhat lumpy cot. But where was he? This wasn't the Leader's cabin. Was he in the bunkhouse? It took all his effort just to slit his eyes open. Immediately, he met the concerned gaze of two chocolate brown eyes. Though somewhat blurry, the sight flooded him with relief.
"Heyes," he croaked, "am I alive? I think Kyle used too much dynamite again."
But the voice that responded was decidedly not his partner's.
"Hey yerself. Yep, yer alive alright, but jest lay still now. Ya almost blowed yerself up."
Curry forced his eyes open a little farther… No, not Heyes. It was a tall, broad-shouldered figure leaning over him, much bigger than his cousin. He could make out a white buttoned shirt and dark brown eyes like Heyes's, but the face was oddly feminine. And was that his imagination, or was long, soft hair brushing his chest as the person leaned over him…?
"Must be dreamin'," he mumbled as he sank back into unconsciousness, his eyes sliding shut heavily.
When Curry next made the laborious ascent to wakefulness, it was dark in the cabin. His head wasn't throbbing quite as violently as it had been before, but the rest of him still felt as if he had been trampled by a herd of stampeding steers. He also had a powerful thirst. Where was Heyes? Where were the rest of the boys? He decided to try getting up to look for some water. He pushed the thin, threadbare blankets aside and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Then, grabbing onto the iron frame of the headboard with one hand for support, he concentrated on pulling himself upright. Once having managed it, the dim room began to spin about him in the most disconcerting fashion. Suddenly the hard wooden floor came flying up to meet him and he crumpled against it with a dull thud. Evidently in response to the noise, rapid footsteps approached. Curry felt himself being lifted up by strong arms and deposited back into the bed.
"Land's sake, Mister! Ya tryin' ta kill yerself? Din't I tell ya, ya jest nearly got yerself blowed up!"
It was a woman's voice, Curry realized, but felt confused because surely this was no woman settling him back into the bed.
It took all his concentration to croak the words, "Water….please."
"Sure thing, jest you hold still now," his nursemaid answered.
Curry felt the strong hands pull him into a sitting position. Supporting him with one muscled arm, the woman – for as she held him against her body, even in his semi-conscious state he couldn't help notice he was resting against a softly cushioned bosom instead of a man's hard chest - raised a tin cup to his parched lips with the other hand. The Kid drank thirstily.
"Careful, now, fella. Don't wanna choke yerself," she admonished as she settled him back down into a prone position.
"What's yer name?" she asked, as she tucked the worn blankets around her patient's shoulders.
"Jed," was the whispered answer.
"Well now, Jed, My name is Suzy and I'm gonna take care of you real good. Now you jest go on back to sleep."
Curry felt the room take another half-spin. He struggled to focus in the dim light.
"Was…was there something in that water?" he asked groggily, his words slurring as he felt consciousness drifting away.
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So all you Heyes fans out there who are getting tired of hearing about the Kid and are just simply dying to know what the Dimpled One is up to, now you know how we feel! Okay, okay, go ahead – take a break from reading right here at this contrived cliffhanger and zip on over to Youtube and watch "The Man Who Murdered Himself" for a spell. Your darling Heyes is probably playing footsies with Hayley Mills' sister right about now… FYI: The "kiss" is right about 31:37 (but then you already, knew that, didn't you….?)
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Happy now? Alrighty then, let's go check up on the Kid to see how he's making out...
The next time Curry wakened, sunlight streamed through the single grimy window. The Kid looked around somewhat blearily, trying to get his bearings. He was in a small, rough room in a hand-hewn cabin. Besides the one window there was a single door. The door and window frame had been painted white at one time, but most of the paint had peeled away, leaving only ragged remnants. Long, thready cobwebs draped from the exposed rafters. Next to his cot there was a single chair and a somewhat rickety-looking table holding a chipped crockery pitcher, a dented tin cup, and an enameled metal bowl. If only he could concentrate! It was as if there were cotton wool crammed into his head, preventing him from thinking clearly. One thing was certain, this was not the Hole. Wait, that was wrong anyway… Kid frowned, trying hard to concentrate… Devil's Hole was a thing of his past; he hadn't even been there for almost a year now… Wait! Amnesty…They were trying for that damnable elusive amnesty now… So where was he..? And where was Heyes..? Gradually he became aware of low voices coming from the other side of the door. He strained to listen, but they faded in and out and he couldn't grasp all the words.
"…worth a heap of money," a man's voice was saying.
"Well, only if'n ….. figure …. was takin' it," came a second male voice.
"Boys, don't you worry none. Suzy'll … outta him. ….wagon….. enough scratch…. quite a spell." The third voice was raspy, as if from an elderly man. "Now you better git along….. trapline. And send Suzy ….check on that fella."
"Whatever you say, Grampaw," answered one of the first voices. "Yessir," said the other.
Curry concentrated hard. Wagon….wagon…. It was starting to come back to him….He had been driving a wagon - a wagon full of dynamite! They were delivering explosives to a mine! But… where was Heyes? Curry felt a sudden overwhelming sense of dread. Had Heyes gotten blowed up? His brow furrowed as he struggled to recall the details. He remembered Heyes helping him load the wagon, all the while carping about what a stupid idea this was… He recalled driving along the bumpy road… alone...! That's right! In the end, his partner hadn't come along with him. He had gone off gallivanting with those city slickers. Curry breathed a huge sigh of relief that his partner was not in the wagon with him when it blew. Although he didn't relish anticipating the inevitable conversation during which Heyes would say, "I told you so," he was damn glad he was still around to say it.
Just then the door opened and the tallest, broadest-shouldered woman he'd ever seen pushed through it. She was dressed like a man, in a man's white shirt and dungarees cinched at the waist with a length of rope, but she was unmistakably female – she had all the right proportions, just a bit…well, oversized. As she approached the bed where he lay, he saw she had long dark hair tumbling around her broad shoulders and two large brown eyes. Curry suddenly felt absurdly small.
"Jed!" the Amazon Woman exclaimed. "Yer awake!"
Oh shit, thought Curry. I told her my real name! What else had he told her…? As he tried to struggle into a sitting position, the blanket slipped from his shoulders. It was then he noticed for the first time that they were bare. He clutched at the blanket and peered under it, his focus still not entirely clear. To his horror he saw he was completely buck nekkid.
"Uh…Ma'am, I'd like to thank you kindly for tendin' to me, but if you could fetch me my clothes, I'll just be on my way."
"Yer in no state to go nowheres," she scolded, "and besides, all yer clothes got burnt up!"
"Ma-am?"
"What do ya remember about the explosion?" she asked as she settled herself on the edge of the cot. She picked up the bowl from the small bedside table, out of which she pulled a wet rag. Pushing the Kid back into the bed, she began to scrub it on his face, none too gently. Rivulets of cold water ran down the back of his neck, causing him to shiver.
"I…uh…I don't recall much of anything," he confessed, twisting his face away from her clumsy ministrations.
"Well, my brothers, Benny and Lex, they was out checkin' their trapline when of a sudden they heard a powerful big explosion. They came a-runnin' and they seen you layin' on the ground with all yer clothes afire. They had to pull 'em right off'n ya and smack out the flames. Yer wagon wuz in smithereens an' yer horses wuz both dead, poor brutes. They brung ya back here so's I could nurse ya."
Now she was attempting to drag the damp rag across the Kid's bare chest, while he repeatedly pushed her hands away.
"Why did yer have all that dynamite in the wagon anyhows - and where was ya goin' with it?" she asked.
Curry was still having a hard time keeping the thoughts in his head in order, but even in his diminished mental state, he couldn't ignore the feeling that something wasn't adding up quite right.
"I...I can't remember," Curry lied. "Thank you, Miss…?
"Suzy," she answered. "Call me Suzy, Jed. Now let's git ya some water."
Once again she forcibly sat her patient up in the bed – causing him to clutch the blankets around his waist in a slight panic - and reached for the tin cup on the table.
"Uh, Suzy, thanks, but I think I can manage on my own," Curry said, attempting to take the cup from her.
When his fingers accidentally brushed hers, she released her grip on the cup and blushed furiously, turning away and quickly busying herself with the bowl and rag. Curry took a large gulp of the water. He'd already swallowed it by the time the taste registered on his tongue. Laudanum! He'd had it before, the last time he'd taken a bullet. Even mixed with diluted whiskey, that cloying sweetness was unmistakable. No wonder he'd been so groggy. He wasn't hurt that bad; why was she dosing him with laudanum? Thinking quickly, the Kid hastily dumped the rest of the cup's contents down the crack between the bed and the wall. When Suzy turned back to him, he began to do his best to mimic the effects of the opiate, allowing his eyes to close and his head to droop, then snapping his eyelids open and jerking his head up as if he were fighting to remain conscious. Some instinct told him to play along until he figured out what this Suzy and her brothers were up to.
But Curry must have taken a large enough gulp so that it wasn't all an act, especially considering his weakened state. As he fought the sleep that was sliding over him like a sodden blanket, Suzy was reaching across to tuck the covers around him. Her left arm was directly in front of his face, offering him a close-up view of a small, uneven tear on the sleeve that had been somewhat amateurishly sewn up with thread that didn't quite match the color of the shirt. That's funny, he mused, feeling slightly disconnected from reality. Just like the tear in my white shirt. Same place, too. He'd caught it on a nail not too long ago, and Heyes had obligingly, if not quite expertly, sewed it up for him. Weird, he thought to himself. Same color thread even…
And then he was out.
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Alright, you Heyes lovers. You've been really patient, haven't you? I think it's time for a reward. How about a nice little "missing scene" from Heyes's adventures with Hayley Mills's little sis… Maybe he'll even take his shirt off again…. But let's don't get carried away!
Julia had just attempted to cool down by wading in the questionably murky brown water of the stream and accidentally dunked herself. Of course, the chivalrous Heyes quickly came to her rescue. Right after he tells her he's having a hard time remembering she's married, the scene ends rather abruptly, and then suddenly it's the next day and the group is deciding where everyone will search. So did anything of note happen in between?
Julia gazed up into Joshua's chocolate brown eyes, feeling a little weak-kneed. "Julia," she urged, but Smith would have none of it.
"No, it's Mrs. Finney," he murmured, "I'm having a hard enough time remembering you're married as it is."
She clung to him, her sopping wet clothes clinging to her curves. Heyes purposely averted his eyes as he disengaged from her, first making sure she was steady on her feet. Julia seemed to be having a hard time remembering she was married, too. She gazed at her guide, not even trying to hide the admiration she felt for this man - so rugged, so masculine, so -
"We'd better get you back to camp and out of those wet clothes, "Heyes said, then seemed to think better of it and hastily amended, "I mean into some dry clothes. It'll cool down fairly soon now."
He took her elbow gently and led her to back to where she had left her shoes and stockings. Once again, he steadied the young woman as she put them back on, casting admiring glances at her shapely calves and fairly well-turned ankles. (Warning to Julia: I see cankles in your future...!) Then he gallantly removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
"Come on then, let's get you back to camp," said Heyes, taking her hand in his and leading her along the path.
And that's it!
What? You're disappointed? What did you think would happen? After she falls in, that Heyes would tear off all his clothing and go skinny-dipping? After all, it was supposedly pretty hot. And so is he... Oh dear, I shouldn't have said that. You run along now and take a nice, cold shower and then you can come back and resume reading.
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When Kid Curry woke up again, he didn't feel quite as muzzy. His head only presented a dull ache, concentrated at the base of his skull. He reached back and gingerly palpated the area, discovering a rather large egg and some crusted dried blood matted in his curls. Musta hit it on a rock or something, he thought to himself. Cautiously he explored the rest of his person. There were bruises and scrapes a-plenty, the largest on his left knee, which was swollen up about twice the size of the right. But surprisingly, there were no burns. If his clothes had been on fire, as Suzy had told him, wouldn't he have at least a few burnt spots on his body? Not that he wanted them, it just seemed kinda strange he didn't.
Nature was calling rather urgently, and Kid decided he could manage a trip to find the outhouse. Getting up wasn't overly taxing, but walking proved to be a bit of a challenge, especially with the ratty blanket wrapped around his waist and dragging almost to his ankles. The knee was giving him trouble, and he had to lean against the wall as he limped toward the door.
The Kid pushed open the door and found himself in a larger room that was dominated by a scarred wooden table and four mismatched chairs. Along the walls were shelves filled with foodstuffs, dishes, mugs, and various other supplies. There were multiple hooks from which numerous traps hung and a rough stone fireplace in the corner with a shaggy black bear rug spread out in front of it and mule deer antlers mounted above it. A ladder in the corner led up to a loft. There was a door on one wall that was slightly ajar, revealing an unmade bed, and on another wall a door that led outside. Everything was arranged neatly and tidily, but all a bit shabby and worn.
As Curry's eyes swept around the room, they settled on an elderly man sitting in a rocking chair near the fire smoking a pipe. He was wearing a stained Henley undershirt that was loose in the shoulders and stretched taut across the old man's pot belly. Must be the patriarch of this noble clan, Curry thought facetiously – the man he'd overheard being addressed as "Grampaw." He looked up and grinned as the Kid walked through the door. Kid counted three teeth. The man turned and spat a gob of chaw into a tin can on the floor near his chair. Chawin' and smokin' a pipe, Curry mused to himself. Haven't never seen that before. Guess the man really favors his tobacco.
"I'm…uh…just lookin' for the outhouse," the Kid explained, one hand on the doorjamb.
The old man jerked his head toward the front door and said helpfully.
"It's outside."
"Thank you, sir," Curry answered, poker-faced.
"BENNY!" The old codger bellowed suddenly, causing the Kid to flinch in alarm. "BENNY! Come help this feller git to the outhouse!"
"Oh, I can manage," the Kid assured him, limping towards the door.
The door was flung open and a younger version of the man near the fire stood there, apparently Benny. He was just as unkempt and his face as unshaven as his elder kinsman, but instead of being white, his hair and beard were coal black. He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt that looked like it had never been washed. It was missing a button where it gaped over his middle. His scuffed black boots matched the shirt in wear and tear, but surprisingly, his pants looked clean and relatively new. They were tan, Kid noticed. Same color and cut of the pants he'd been wearing. Come on, he told himself. Lotsa folks have pants that color. Wasn't Heyes always telling him there were coincidences happening all the time?
"Lemme help ya," Benny said, grabbing Curry by the upper arm.
When the rough fingers with their black-lined fingernails clutched Kid's bare arm, he remembered he was practically nekkid.
"Uh, Benny?" he ventured. "Do you think I could get my clothes back?"
Benny quickly looked down at the pants he was wearing, then back to the Kid and answered hastily,
"Aw, din't Suzy tell ya? All yer clothes was burnt up in the explosion – and all your spare clothes in yer saddlebags, too. Say, how'dja know my name?" he added, puzzlement plain on his face.
"Well," Curry answered as if he were explaining something very serious, "your grandpa over there yelled, 'Benny!" And then you came in. So I kinda put two and two together."
Benny nodded sagely as if this were the most erudite explanation he'd ever heard. Possibly it had been. Then he jerked the Kid by the arm and proceeded to "help" him to the outhouse.
After Curry had taken care of business, Benny "helped" him roughly back toward the house. Although Curry wasn't completely clear-headed, he took advantage of the short walk to look around at his surroundings. He prided himself on his powers of observation. Many a time some small detail or another that his sharp eyes picked up had saved his and his partner's hides.
The cabin was seated in a hollow of the hills. It looked just as seedy on the outside as it had on the inside. There was a pump in the yard and a decent-sized woodpile next to a rather sparse kitchen garden, but not much else. About 20 yards from the cabin was a somewhat decrepit looking barn. Just then, the door to the barn opened a crack and another young man sidled through it. That's gotta be Lex, thought the Kid, wondering what was in the barn that he was trying to hide. Why else open it like that unless you wanted to make sure no one could see inside? Lex stopped abruptly when he spotted the Kid crossing the yard with his brother, turned around swiftly and slipped back inside again opening the door just wide enough to slide through then quickly closing it behind him. Despite the distance and Lex's abbreviated appearance, Curry took a quick inventory: Not quite as dirty and unkempt as the old man and Benny, but like them, shaggy-haired and bearded. He was wearing a pair of clean but faded bluejeans and a maroon shirt, the same color as one of Kid's spare shirts – that one with the laces instead of the buttons. Lex also wore tan boots and a brown leather gunbelt that seemed to sit on his hips at a slightly awkward angle, but it was too far away to discern any details.
Benny noticed Curry gazing at the barn and pulled harder on his arm.
"Come on, Mister," he said. "Back to bed. I'll get Suzy to bring ya yer medi - I mean, yer water."
You mean my medicine, thought Kid grimly. He wondered how long he was going to get away with dumping the laudanum-laced, watered-down whiskey into the crack between the bed and the wall. He needed water. He stopped at the pump and reached for the handle.
"Speaking of water," he said, "mind if I have a drink?"
Benny couldn't seem to think of a reason to stop him and stood by dumbly while Curry slaked his thirst under the pump.
After their guest was safely back in bed, Suzy came in to dose him again. When she emerged from the room, announcing he was "out like a light," the family sat around the kitchen table discussing his fate in hushed tones.
"Soon as we find out where to deliver them explosives, we gotta take care of 'im. If'n we let im get strong enough no tellin' what he'll do. Man that totes a gun like that'un is bound to be dangerous," pronounced the old man to his three grandchildren.
Lex caressed the handle of the Colt he was sporting, tucked into the well-worn holster strapped low across his hips, just like he'd seen pictures of gunslingers in the dime novels he couldn't read. He liked to look at the pictures and try to figure out what was happening in the story. He hadn't tried to shoot the gun yet, but he sure felt like something strutting around in that rig.
"Aw, no, Pawpaw," protested Suzy. "Can't we keep 'im around? He's awful purty. Mebbe I can … murry him?" she added hopefully.
The old man smiled indulgently at his only granddaughter. Such a pretty face, like her maw's, he thought for the thousandth time, but a damn shame she'd inherited her paw's massive build. What man would ever marry her? Maybe they could keep the gunslinger around for a while longer – least 'til they ran out of laudanum. Too damn risky not to keep him drugged up. Man wouldn't have a gun like that less'n he knew how to shoot it. Humph. Maybe she could get a child off him before they got rid of him. At least she'd have the baby to keep her happy. He recalled how thrilled his own wife had been when she gave birth to their daughter, the mother of Lex and Benny and Suzy, how she'd spend hours playing with her and dressing her and bathing her and loving her.
"Tell ya what, Suzy Gal. You get the name of the place he's sposed to deliver that wagon outta him and I'll letcha keep 'im," he said craftily. For a spell, he added silently.
By the time Kid had managed to creep out of bed, limp across the room, and put his ear to the door, the conversation was almost over. He heard only the last several words of that final sentence:
"I'll letcha keep him."
Curry shivered, partly from the cool air on his bare skin and partly due to the unsettled feeling that hearing that promise gave him. Curry assumed he was the "him" being kept. But who was the old man talking to? One of the boys or Suzy? Maybe all three! What would they do with him - and why? Curry took stock. There was one of him and four of them. Only one – Lex – seemed to be armed. He didn't have his own gun; he'd have to get close enough to Lex to get a hold of his. But he was still pretty weak and dizzy. He knew from experience, it could take a couple days for those feelings to go away after a good crack on the head. And he needed clothes. He could sure use a horse. He wondered if they had any. And what was in the barn?
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Meanwhile, back in Devil's Hole, Hannibal Heyes was buttoning up his dark blue, form-fitting shirt, tucking it into his buff-colored pants that fit so snugly around his tight, little – What?! Heyes again? Really? You really think we need another Heyes scene? I mean, what more is there to tell? The lion's share of the original episode was already devoted almost exclusively to him! Him and that Juliet Mills - who isn't even that pretty! In fact, she's kind of annoying, wouldn't you say? But then, apparently there just weren't many decent love interests available in the parts of the Old West where our boys hung out. And they always seemed to be borrowing each other's dresses! What's up with that? And don't you wonder where they got all that hairspray and 60's style eyeliner? Maybe they had their own version of the magic saddlebags…magic carpet bags…? Wait! What? Do you mean to say you figured out that this paragraph isn't actually about Heyes, but is just some speculative, fourth wall-breaking "filler"…? Sheesh. Just because you have a big fat crush on the self-proclaimed genius doesn't make you a genius, too, does it? Hey - What was that mutter I heard about at least having good taste…? Just for that, we're going straight back to the Kid and Suzy! At least Suzy isn't wearing that same red plaid number that Mrs. Finney evidently borrowed from Annabel Consadine for the touching farewell scene at the train station. (I mean Julia and Heyes's touching farewell scene; not the creepy scene between Annabel and Kid when he practically devours her tonsils. Um, Hello! SEVENTEEN, Kid. Ick.) But back to the touching farewell scene, where Julia uses her feminine wiles, such as they are, to sort of invite Heyes to come with her or at least visit… No, you do not tempt me to come to Boston, but I will smile at you and let my dimples flash alluringly and make a witty comment about the train leaving so as to let you down easy… Actually, Suzy would never fit into that dress, anyway, (Wait, we're back to the dress?) seeing as she is of Amazonian proportions. Now THAT's something you didn't see on TV in 1970…
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That night Kid slept soundly, despite the lumps and bumps in the mattress. The next morning when he woke up, his head was much clearer. The dizziness had gone and his bruises and scrapes seemed better, too. Pulling the blanket around his body, he crept to the window. He used a corner of the blanket to wipe a small circle in the grime and peered out. He saw by the sun's position in the sky that he'd slept late. It was almost noon. Curry squinted as he watched the activity in the yard – well, activity for some, lack of activity for others. The old man, Suzy's grandfather from what he'd gathered, was swinging gently in a hammock tied between two trees, apparently asleep. Benny was sitting on a stump, aiming a rifle at a gnarled pine tree across the way, squeezing off potshots, pausing intermittently to spit a thin stream of brown tobacco at an old tin can near his feet, missing four times out of five. He was a much better aim with the gun, as the increasingly splintered bark of the tree revealed. Kid's well-schooled eye noted the rifle was a Winchester .44-40, same kind he had loaded into his wagon. But lots of folks had that make of rifle, he reminded himself.
Suzy, wearing a man's pale blue shirt that looked extremely familiar, was digging in the small, sparse garden near the house. She was pulling what looked to be potatoes from the soil and placing them into a basket sitting on the ground next to her. A movement near the barn caught Curry's eyes. Lex emerged and closed the door too quickly to reveal anything inside. He strode across the yard toward the house, calling, "Suzy! I'm starvin'! When's lunch?" Lex was wearing the same clothes he had on the previous day, but that's not what was demanding Curry's attention. It was the gun. As Lex got closer and closer, Curry became more and more certain. He'd know his own gun anywhere.
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Have you noticed I'm not even bothering to insert any Heyes scenes anymore? Oh, you have? Well, it's only fair! After those first few alluring glimpses of Curry's progress during the actual episode, it seemed as if the writers forgot that there even was a Kid Curry, making his perilous journey through the mountains. It was all Heyes, Heyes, Heyes. So now it's all Kid, Kid, Kid!
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Suzy glanced up from her gardening and caught the Kid's eye as he watched her through the window. She smiled shyly and rose to her feet, brushing the dirt from her hands onto her dungarees. She waved vigorously. Curry waved back less than enthusiastically and backed away from the window. Still clutching the blanket, he walked - this time with only a slight limp - across the room. When he reached the door, he discovered it was now locked. Just as he drew his hand back to knock, he heard Suzy's voice on the other side. "Are you awake, Sleepy-head?"
The next sound was that of a key turning in the lock and the door opened. "Come on, let me help you to the outhouse," the big girl said, wrapping a strong arm around Curry's waist.
"That's okay, I can manage," he stammered, but she would have none of it. As they walked into the bright sunshine and across the dirt yard to the small outhouse, he saw that there was an empty whiskey bottle beneath the hammock that her Grandfather lay in. There was no sign of Lex, but Benny had abandoned his original target and was now aiming the Winchester up into the branches of one of the trees from which the hammock was suspended. From inside the outhouse, Curry heard three shots followed by a soft thud.
"I got 'im! I got 'im! Suzy, skin him up! We got us a nice fat squirrel for supper!"
His business finished, the Kid, cautiously poked his head out the door before stepping into the open. He didn't want to take any chances with Benny and his rifle. Suzy had dutifully picked up the dead squirrel by the tail and held it dangling from one hand as she grabbed Kid's elbow with the other. To his surprise, the old man still snored noisily, not having budged despite the racket of the gunshots.
Suzy deposited Curry back in his bed and tried to tuck the blanket around his body. It was somewhat of a struggle, but Curry managed to preserve his modesty, mostly because she was trying to accomplish her task with only one hand, the dead squirrel still dangling from the other one. Suddenly Curry's stomach made a low rumble. He was famished, having eaten only broth the last couple days. Suzy smiled and said,
"Yer hungry, Jed. That means yer gettin' better. I'll go fetch ya some viddles."
She disappeared through the door and returned a short while later with a plate piled with food: half a loaf of brown bread, a big hunk of meat, and some boiled onions and potatoes. The meat turned out to be venison cooked in some kind of gravy and it was the best thing Curry had tasted in at least two days. He ate voraciously. Suzy sat in the chair next to his cot, watching his every bite as if watching a man eat was the most fascinating sight she'd ever seen. After he mopped up the last vestige of the gravy with the last hunk of bread, he smiled at the girl and said, still chewing,
"Thank you, Suzy. You're a good cook."
Suzy cheeks flamed and she began to fiddle with the hem of her shirt. Curry paused, then said in a soft, serious voice, "Suzy, can I ask you something?"
"Yes, Jed, anything!" she cried, eager to please. "Ya want more potatoes? Ya want some pie?"
But the Kid's query was not about food. He swallowed and in the same soft, serious voice, he asked,
"Suzy, that wagon full of dynamite never blowed up, did it? And I weren't never on fire, was I? Come on, now, honey, tell me the truth."
"No – I mean – yes, it did – and you were –" Suzy's protests were weak and unconvincing. Kid plowed on, looking the big girl straight in the eye.
"Suzy, I know that's my shirt you got on. And I saw one of your brothers wearin' my trousers. I'm guessin' that Henley your Grampaw has on is mine too. Now I got other clothes in my saddlebags, which I expect are still in the wagon – which I'm gonna guess is hidden in your barn, right? Along with the horses. But I am gonna need my boots and my gun back, which I saw your other brother wearin'."
Suzy was looking more and more uncomfortable. Grampaw said she could keep this good-lookin' man for her very own. But he obviously wanted to leave. Was it right to hold him here against his will? She stared at him, clearly troubled by this line of thought. She was torn between loyalty to her family and the desire to keep Jed here, and the odd and unfamiliar realization that she actually cared for him - and more than anything else, she wanted him to be happy.
Kid picked up one of her large hands in both of hiss and looked as tenderly as he could manage into her eyes. Suzy gulped audibly as she stared back at him, mesmerized by his blue, blue eyes.
"Suzy, if you really do care about me, you'll help me get my things back and get out of here. It just ain't right to keep me here like a captive."
That did it. It was as if he could read her mind. Suzy caved. Large tears began to roll down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Jed! I didn't mean ta hurt ya. It ain't right to keep ya here. Everythin' ya said is true."
Curry nodded, having finally cracked her resolve. Then he asked,
"I just got one question: What did you do to me?"
"I didn't do nothin'! Honest! It was Lex and Benny! Benny beaned you one with the butt of his shotgun and Lex tossed ya down the side of the mountain so's you'd get banged up real good. Then they brung ya here an' I dosed ya up with laud'num. Grampaw wanted me to getcha to tell me where you wuz deliverin' the TNT. Benny an' Lex wuz gonna take it there theirselves an' git the money. Oh, they'll all be mad as wet hens when they find out I letcha go."
"That's why you have to leave, too, Suzy. You have to get away from them."
Suzy stopped crying abruptly. Her brown eyes lit up and her face broke into the sunniest of smiles. She leapt up from the chair and cried,
"I'll getcher stuff back, Jed! I'll get all yer stuff!"
She bustled out of the room as the Kid sighed with relief. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been, until he felt his whole body relax. Suzy stopped at the door and turned back to him, eyes shining.
"Meet me in the barn - at midnight!" she whispered, smiling brightly. Then she hustled out the door.
Kid watched her go, wondering why she had suddenly looked so happy. Even though he'd finally gotten her to realize it was the right thing to let him go, he expected she might be just a little bit disappointed.
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Heyes? Who's Heyes….?
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When Kid judged it was around midnight, he pushed the blankets aside, rose from his bed in silence, and padded to the door in his bare feet. The evening was chilly and gooseflesh rose on his bare arms and chest. He took comfort in knowing that soon he'd have his clothes back and be on his way. He even looked forward to spending time with a wagonload of explosives. It sure beat being held captive by a family of backward hill folk. He tried the door – unlocked. Good girl, Suzy, he whispered to himself. He made his way through the front room of the cabin silently. He could hear three sets of snores. Grampaw's low-pitched snore emanated from the closed door to the left. More snoring was coming from the loft above. There was a blanket on the floor in the corner by the stove. That was when he first realized he must have been put in Suzy's bed. It made him feel sad for Suzy, knowing she was the one expected to take the floor when a visitor came. He slipped outside and stepped carefully across the weedy, rock-strewn yard until he reached the ramshackle barn, ignoring as best he could the sharp stones that poked into the soles of his feet. When he entered, there was his wagon, still loaded and all in one piece. He saw that, true to her word, Suzy had hitched up the team of horses to it. She was standing next to them, holding a bundle. In the dim light he could see her smiling at him, her teeth showing white in the darkness.
"Here's yer stuff."
His saddle bags were hung over one broad shoulder, his gunbelt the other. In her arms were his pants, the white shirt she'd been wearing previously, and his sheepskin jacket. Tucked under one arm were his well-worn boots.
"Yer socks are in the coat pocket," she said helpfully as she thrust everything at him. "I only jest couldn't git the Henley shirt back," she added apologetically. "Grampaw wears it to bed. I couldn't get it offa him without wakin' him up. And yer longjohns, too."
Curry felt like he was greeting an old friend as he took the bundle. Boy, would it be nice to be dressed again!
"I don't mind," he grinned, thinking of the tobacco stain dribbled down the front of his Henley. Buying new underclothes was the least of his worries.
He hastily placed everything on a handy barrel, then shoved his arms into his shirt and buttoned it up. Next came the pants. After he buttoned the fly, he shrugged into the jacket, reached into the pocket, and removed the socks. Once he had those on, he finally felt like he was warming up. He sat down on the barrel to tug his boots on. Then he stood to reach for his gun belt. He buckled it around his hips and tied the thong around his right thigh. His rig felt just a little looser than usual, but it was still familiar and comfortable. He pulled his Colt and, out of habit, opened the chamber and looked inside. That'll need a good cleaning, he thought to himself as he absently twirled it a couple times and holstered it. He looked up, grinning, to see Suzy staring at him wide-eyed.
Curry ignored the stare and tossed his saddle bags onto the wagon seat, happily noticing his brown hat already perched there. He strode across the barn and opened the door.
He walked back to the wagon, climbed onto the seat, took up the reins, and released the brake. Then he turned to bid Suzy good bye.
She was still standing where she'd been, now holding a small bundle, and looking confused and forlorn.
"Aintcha …. aintcha gonna take me with ya?"
It suddenly hit home why Suzy had seemed so happy earlier. Somehow she had gotten it into her head that he wanted her to leave with him! Kid, feeling a bit guilty for inadvertently leading her on, deliberately reset the brake and climbed out of the wagon slowly. In a soft, sincere voice he said,
"I'm sorry, Suzy, but I just can't."
"B-but… I thought ya liked me, Jed," she managed, her lower lip trembling pitifully.
Kid felt sorry for this big, gawky girl. It wasn't her fault she'd been born into this family of cretins stuck out in the middle of nowhere. And she couldn't help it she was built like a solid brick house.
"I do, Suzy, I like ya real well," he answered earnestly, "but ya see it's like this. I'm engaged. To be married."
Perhaps it was because he had heard Heyes tell this story so many times, or maybe he just didn't want to hurt her feelings – after all, she had tended to him, albeit a bit clumsily, and she'd agreed to help him escape. He slipped effortlessly into Heyes' old yarn, even using his partner's typical phrasing and inflections.
"Yep, we're gettin' married in two weeks. In fact, she's the daughter of the mayor, a real fine girl, a wonderful girl. After I deliver these explosives, I'm headin' to St. Louis for the wedding. I'm gonna use the money I get to build us a little cabin there," he improvised, embellishing the old tale somewhat.
Suzy looked down hastily, trying valiantly to hide her tears. Kid felt another pang of sympathy. He reached out and gently put his hand beneath her chin and turned her face back to his.
"But, Suzy, if only I'da met you first, things woulda been different," he said, with as much sincerity as he could muster.
"Really…?" she ventured, daring to hope, wanting to believe him, but not quite able to. "But…but, I'm so… tall. Benny says fellas don't like tall gals. He says no man'll have me."
"Well, that Benny doesn't know what he's talkin' about. I've always liked tall gals," Curry lied through his teeth. "Why, my Betsy – that's my fiancée – why I'd say she's at least an inch taller than you!"
Kid didn't see any reason why the already imaginary daughter of the mayor of St. Louis couldn't be a very tall imaginary daughter.
A huge grin spread slowly across Suzy's face. She really was almost beautiful when she smiled, Kid observed. An image of his Grandpaw Curry came to mind. He was comforting Jed's older sister, Maggie, who had been going through an awkward phase as she reached adolescence, despairing of ever being pretty enough to find a beau. Grandpa Curry had gathered her onto his lap and advised sagely, "There's a lid for every pot, young lady. Don't you worry your pretty little head about that."
Kid couldn't let himself dwell on that memory any further; he didn't want to remind himself that Maggie never did get to have a beau, never got to grow up and get married, never did anything at all after that fateful day in Kansas when everything changed forever. Kid shook his head to clear his mind of the sad memories, causing his golden curls to play about his handsome face. Suzy was staring at him again with that same puppy-dog look of adoration. But the Kid didn't notice. He was suddenly inspired: Kansas!
"A farmer, Suzy!" the Kid exclaimed suddenly, startling the girl from her reverie. "You need to find yourself a good, honest farmer. Get out of this place, get away from your family, and go find yourself a farmer."
Kid thought what a welcome wife Suzy would be to the right man – a sod-busting, hard-scrabbling farmer like the ones they'd known back in Kansas. She had a pretty face, a kind heart, and the strength of two farmhands. She could work side by side with her husband, sharing the heavy, unrelenting work a farm entailed. He smiled at her engagingly and admonished sternly,
"And no more stealin'! Believe me when I tell you that if you keep on thievin' you'll live to regret it. I have reason to know about that."
Suzy blushed, obviously embarrassed.
"Now, don't you fret about it. You didn't know anything but what your family taught you. But you can rise above all that. You're better than them."
Suddenly Suzy remembered something. She was still wearing Kid's light blue shirt.
"Your shirt!" she cried. "Lemme give yer shirt back," she insisted, reaching to unbutton it, but Kid stayed her hand.
"Naw, Suzy," he said kindly. "You keep it. It looks nice on you. But you get yourself a lady's skirt to go with it, not those dungarees you're wearin'. You keep it to remember me by," he added.
Suzy smiled softly and replied, "Don't need no shirt to 'member you, Jed. But thankee. Now you'd better git."
"And you'd better, too," he said. "Just follow the road east, opposite direction I'm headin'. In about two days you'll come to a little town called Winfield. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills and some coins and placed them into her palm, closing her fingers around the small pile and holding onto her large hands with his own as he spoke earnestly to the girl.
"Here, you take this money and you buy yourself a pretty dress and a train ticket. Go as far as you can get. EAST. Get yourself some honest work. And then, you find yourself a nice, upstanding farmer lookin' for a wife."
Suzy's eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.
"Thankee Jed. I'll never forgit ya."
She grabbed him fiercely and hugged him tight. Kid felt as though she were crushing the very breath out of him, but he did not let on, even as she pressed against bruises and scrapes still not fully healed from his recent tumble down the rocky hillside. Instead, he hugged her back just as hard, then climbed into the wagon and with one last farewell rode away into the moonlight.
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Speaking of moonlight, I believe right about now, Hannibal Heyes might be strolling in the moonlight with the lovely Julia. Or did he do that already? She looks lovely in the moonlight at least. Well, it is a flattering light… I mean, who doesn't look lovely in the moonlight...? Heyes certainly does! But then, you can watch the original episode to see all that loveliness, so there's no reason for me to describe it here!
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Anyway, after Miles Parker (purportedly Stephen Ashdown) was killed, shortly followed into the great Beyond by Mr. Alexander (the real Stephen Ashdown), the dwindling party returned to Winfield. The policeman, Kevin Finney, naturally would have straightened everything out with the sheriff. And Julia (not Finney) naturally was nursing a dream as unrealistic as poor Suzy's had been that the handsome Joshua Smith would come back to Boston with her. (Okay, I admit it. I really can't blame the poor girl for that…) And the not-quite-a-couple had their tender farewell scene in Annabel's red plaid dress, followed by Heyes's and Finney's less tender, but somewhat droll and amusing, farewell scene.
And after all that, Heyes probably hung around in Winfield for a couple days, waiting for the Kid's return, since his own journey had been cut short by the murder. He probably played a lot of poker and read a lot of books. And of course, you know that the Kid delivered the load to the mine, safe and sound with no further mishaps. He got paid and he returned to town, traveling at a much faster pace this time, what with the empty wagon that he no longer had to worry about detonating.
But you didn't know that when Kid Curry reached the stretch of road near Suzy's family's cabin, he drew and cocked his Colt and didn't holster it until he was well past it. By the time he got back to town, he was literally coated in dust, but he had money in his pocket and a powerful thirst in his throat. He happily anticipated meeting up with his partner. They'd have at least five hundred dollars – probably more if Heyes had managed to get that bonus, he said to himself. And of course, he'd have gotten it! He imagined how he'd listen to Heyes braggin' on about his adventures in the Hole and then he'd have a few of his own to tell, about how he'd gotten away from the trapper family, and about the big strong gal he'd met, and all about how he'd thought he'd blowed himself up.
But he hadn't.
Not once.