Holiday In A Small Town

by moonshadowASJ

When Heyes stops in a small town to wait for Kid, he finds himself the victim of a case of mistaken identity. When the residents refuse to believe him, Heyes plays along. Things go fine until Curry arrives and their troubles start to multiply. This story was originally a Virtual Season episode for 2008/09.

1. Chapter 1

" HOLIDAY IN A SMALL TOWN "

PART ONE

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

HANNIBAL HEYES...PETE DUEL

KID CURRY...BEN MURPHY

SHERIFF SAM TATE...SLIM PICKENS

DOLLY...DOLLY PARTON

BRODY...YAN BIRCH

ROY...STUART MARGOLIN

HARVEY BAKER...BOB DENVER

DOC MASON...SAM ELLIOT

MIGUEL...JIMMY SMITS

GRAY WOLF...JAY TAVARE

ANDY...DAVID CANARY

ED...JAMES MARSTERS

WES CARTER...ALAN HALE, JR.

STEVE WILSON...ELIJAH WOOD

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As Hannibal Heyes made his way into the small town of Lone Butte, he cast a casual glance at the Fourth of July decorations already in place. Large banners that stretched across the width of the street boasted of festivities that would begin Friday morning with an Independence Day Parade, after which a potluck supper would be held in the Social Hall in the late afternoon and conclude with a "Fireworks Extravaganza" later that night.

Besides the patriotic red, white and blues of the holiday decorations, as Heyes glanced around he noticed the orderliness midst the hustle and bustle. He noticed the smiling townspeople going about their ordinary, daily activities. And he noticed the saloons - all three of them - the mercantile store, the church, the schoolhouse and the sheriff's office.

Without appearing to do so, he gave extra special notice to the sheriff's office. The name burned into the wood placard which hung above the door proudly proclaimed in big, bold letters that Lone Butte's lawman was a man by the name of Samuel Tate. A slight grin of relief appeared as he continued on his way. The name didn't mean a thing to him.

Despite all his noticing, what Heyes failed to see was a young boy who, upon seeing the stranger ride into town, scurried from establishment to establishment as fast as his legs would carry him. He poked his head inside each and every doorway to eagerly proclaim, "He's here! He's here!" before going on to the next place.

The boy shared the news with everyone he could find - including the sheriff. Upon hearing the proclamation, Sheriff Samuel Tate checked that his gun was in his holster, grabbed his hat and raced outside just in time to watch the man in question disappear around the corner of the mercantile. Realizing that time was of the essence, the lawman turned around. "Hey, he went this-a-way!" he hollered before he took off in hot pursuit.

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Heyes grimaced as he eased himself out of the saddle and slid down to the ground. It had been a long, hot and dusty ride. He looked forward to soaking in a hot tub of water and a few beers. "Beers first," he decided as he moistened his dry lips.

After settling with the liveryman, he stepped outside only to find his path blocked. The outlaw was taken aback to discover that he was surrounded by what appeared to be the whole entire population of Lone Butte, with the sheriff himself right up front, his badge of tin twinkling in the bright sunlight.

The dark-haired outlaw hesitated, boxed in as he was, and used the opportunity for a wary glance around. "Hiya...uh...everyone" he said to the group at large, "Right friendly little town you've got here."

"Sure is, Doc," nodded a large man garbed in blacksmith's attire.

The smile on his face and the wink he gave Heyes caused the outlaw to purse his lips as he pondered the man's words. Then it hit him; this was just a case of mistaken identity, an easy enough problem to solve.

"Oh, I'm not a doctor," Heyes protested with an apologetic smile, "sure hope nobody's sick? The best I could do is tell them they need to go see a real doctor," he laughed.

"That's a good one, Doc," a female voice chuckled.

"Sure is, Doc, that's real funny," another voice chimed in as laughter erupted from the crowd.

As he realized his protestations were falling on deaf ears and the townspeople hadn't altered their opinion one whit, Heyes' own smile faltered. "Honest, I'm really not a doctor; I'm afraid you've all got me confused with somebody else," his protest was a bit more pronounced.

"Sounds like you're the one who's confused, Doc!"

The laughter was louder this time as everyone nodded and winked.

"Yeah, we didn't know ya had such a good sense of humor, Doc."

His patience rapidly coming to an end, a frustrated Heyes spoke each word slowly, distinctly and loudly, "I...AM...NOT...A...DOCTOR...AND...MY...NAME...IS...NOT... DOC!"

"Guess you're jus' takin' yourself a little 'holiday' then, Doc?" Yet another faceless voice in the crowd called out in a teasing tone.

Heyes grit his teeth as he seethed with annoyance. Did the whole entire town have a hearing problem? As he struggled to keep his anger in check, Heyes counted to ten. About the time he hit five, the cryptic words the last person had spoken penetrated his brain, only this time he listened to them more carefully. He searched the crowd, seeking to identify the speaker.

As he scanned the faces of the townspeople, his eyes met and held with a pair of laughing hazel ones. The owner, a beanpole of a man, nodded and stepped forward. Heyes found himself the recipient of a toothy smile, along with a sly look and a conspiratorial wink. The combination of all three served to unnerve the outlaw slightly, although his poker face gave none of this away.

Spurred on by the challenge of figuring out the solution to the puzzle, Heyes frowned. He knew the answer was out there, he just needed to find it. Holiday...doc...it all began to make sense. He wasn't sure he liked the sense it made, though. He raised his head to look around.

"You...all of you," he gestured at the crowd, "you think I'm Doc Holliday dontcha?" As he stared at the sea of smiling faces that surrounded him, the outlaw realized that the nods of assent and those irritating winks only confirmed his suspicions. "Well, I'm real sorry to disappoint all you folks, but I am NOT Doc Holliday. My name is Smith - Joshua Smith."

The sheriff's smile grew even more broad, if that were possible. He sent Heyes an exaggerated wink. "'Course it is," he agreed with a nod of his head while his tone suggested otherwise. The lawman turned to face the crowd. "We understand, don't we, folks?"

Dumbfounded, Heyes watched as every head bobbed up and down, while murmurs of agreement could be heard from all around. Every face, young and old, male and female wore a smile plastered on it, too. Heyes groaned under his breath. It was clear they didn't understand at all! He drew in a deep breath. "I really AM Joshua Smith. I just stopped in your little town to wait for my friend to arrive."

Heyes was nonplussed when once again everyone began to nod their heads and voice their agreement with him. Exasperation tinged his tone as he continued, determined to end this lunacy once and for all. "Once my friend arrives, we'll both be on our way. Now, I don't know the real Doc Holliday, never met him personally, but I hear tell he's a real friendly fella." Heyes pierced the crowd with a look. "You and he ought to get along real well. It's also rumored that he's a bit shorter than me, his hair's a few shades lighter and of course he's not half as good-looking as I am."

Midst the laughter that followed his words, Heyes went on, "Now, if you'll all excuse me..." Anxious to leave, Heyes started forward and found himself forced to stop in his tracks. The close proximity of the crowd prevented him from taking more than one small step in any direction. Dropping his head to his chest, he released an audible sigh of exasperated resignation. Feeling the sheriff's eyes upon him, Heyes raised his head to look him in the eyes.

"Looks like you might be with us for a while longer, Doc - uh, I mean Mister Smith." The lawman winked at the stranger.

Heyes refrained from answering. He was beginning to wonder if the whole town was full of lunatics who suffered from tics as well as deafness.

"Seein' as how everyone's been happier than a spring pig takin' a mud bath since you arrived, maybe you'd care to join us for some grub?" Sheriff Tate raised a brow and fixed the man with a questioning look.

"I don't - " Heyes began, only to be cut off.

"We've got a real nice welcome dinner, already cooked over in the social hall -"

Heyes broke in, "Really, Sheriff I -"

"Everyone's been workin' real hard," the lawman continued and never broke stride, "ever since we heard you was a-comin' our way from Harvey Baker's cousin, Ida Mae. See, she lives over in Tombstone, an' she heard from her brother-in-law's great Uncle Chester, who was in the barbershop when he heard the news, that you were on your way to Yuma. That meant you'd have to go through our town to get there, since Lone Butte is the only town between the two. So, you see it was jus' a matter of time, waitin' to see when you'd be ridin' in -"

"Sheriff, while I'm sure that's all real exciting news, maybe you'll get the chance to meet the REAL Doc Holliday one day soon. When you do, be sure to tell him Mr. Joshua Smith said hello."

"Sure thing, butlet me ask you jus' one question first, Mister Joshua Smith. Where're you headin'?"

"Yuma."

Sheriff Tate raised his brow and gave a satisfied smirk. "Yuma, huh?"

"Yes, Yuma." Heyes answered and caught the lawman's look. "Oh no, now you wait just a cotton-picking minute, Sheriff! What else is there in that direction?" the annoyed outlaw demanded. "You just said yourself there isn't anything else between Lone Butte and Yuma. Everyone has to go through this town to get to Yuma, so that doesn't prove a thing!"

"Uh, huh," Tate smirked and waited a beat before he wheedled, "It's real good food, Mister Smith."

"Oh, I believe you, but just the same, I think I'll just head on over to the saloon."

"So, you've already ate, then?"

"Well, no," Heyes hedged, "but I AM mighty thirsty."

"We've got a real turkey with all the trimmin's," the lawman cajoled.

"Thanks anyway, Sheriff, but I believe there's a beer or two over in the saloon that's calling my name." Heyes turned to make his escape.

Sheriff Samuel Tate was on a mission and he wasn't about to give up. He stared at the retreating man's back. "Say, son," he called out, "how long's it been since you had a real turkey?"

Having to push his way into the crowd, Heyes had only managed to traverse a few steps before he found himself once more standing still in the middle of the throng of people and listening to the sheriff's persuasive voice.

Seeing his chance, the lawman hurried on to press his point, "Not one of those scrawny sage hens that runs around these parts callin' itself a turkey, but a great big bird, roasted golden brown, the juices oozing out an' drippin' down the sides. We've also got biscuits 'n gravy, mashed taters, corn, green beans...an' if that ain't enough to convince you, to finish it all off there's some of the best apple pie you've ever sank your teeth into."

The lawman's descriptive words had caused Heyes' mouth to begin to water and his stomach to rumble with hunger. It had also driven all thoughts of beer and the saloon out of his head.

"Well, son, whaddya say?"

Heyes turned around to face the lawman, a dimpled grin in full evidence. "I'd say I think you've convinced me, Sheriff. There's just one thing, though; I'll only accept your invitation as long as it's Joshua Smith you're inviting."

"Well, then c'mon with me, Doc, uh, pardon me, I mean, Mister Smith," Tate winked, "we'll have ya fixed up in no time." The sheriff turned to the citizens of Lone Butte, "You folks go on ahead inside an' get a place set up for our guest. We'll be with ya in jus' a few minutes; there's a couple of things I need to talk over with him first."

When they were alone, the sheriff turned to look into Heyes' face. "I'm sure you must have your reasons, so I won't be pry. I jus' need to let you know that you couldn't have picked a better time than right now to visit our town. If you'll look behind you, you'll see why."

Obliging the lawman, Heyes turned around.

"That's our bank."

Indeed, there sat the Bank of Lone Butte, right smack dab in front of him. Heyes had to suppress a grin at the absurdity of the situation. Here was a sheriff pointing out the bank to an outlaw, oblivious to the fact that it was Hannibal Heyes he was sharing the information with. "Uh, it's a very nice bank, but what's so special about yours? I've seen plenty of banks before."

"Not like this one you haven't. Why, Lone Butte would up 'n disappear; it'd become a ghost town if somethin' happened to it. That bank is the livelihood of this whole entire town."

"Again, I'm not quite sure what your little bank has to do with me?" Heyes raised a questioning brow.

"I'm guessin' that maybe you haven't heard about the silver strike around these parts?"

"I've heard about it," Heyes shrugged, "but I'm still not sure what that has to do with me."

"Well, one of the largest silver mines around keeps its payroll right here in our bank. Every Saturday, like clockwork, two hundred miners come to Lone Butte to get paid their wages. That 'little bank' you're lookin' at keeps around $100,000.00 in its vault to pay those wages. We have to be on the lookout for any kind of trouble, no matter how small. You see what I mean?"

His back still to Tate, Heyes whistled softly in appreciation. "Well, Sheriff, I don't think you have a thing to worry about. Your 'little bank' is made of solid brick and rock, and it's got nice, thick iron bars on all the windows. Nobody'd be crazy enough to try and break through all that!"

"Oh, our bank has more than that to protect it," the lawman boasted with more than a touch of pride in his voice. "Once you're lucky enough to get inside, you'll be greeted by two of the biggest – not to mention the meanest - guards you've ever seen, stationed just inside the door. In addition, both of 'em are armed with great big guns an' have orders to shoot to kill."

Heyes had continued to peruse the bank and his thoughts were on all that money just waiting inside. "You know," Heyes said thoughtfully, "I don't believe I've ever seen a bank built under a hotel before. Now that might be a problem."

"Well, it's not as easy as it looks. Anyone thinkin' of robbin' it from above would first have to pry up the floorboards, then saw their way through solid ten inch beams, chop through the thick plaster ceiling...an' then they'd have to drill a hole big enough for a man to jump through to get down into the bank.

"But before they even started that, they'd havta smuggle all the equipment they needed up to the room without bein' seen an' they'd havta be awful careful not to make any noise while they were doin' all that. Once they'd made it that far, their next problem would be our safe. Our bank has the Pierce 'n Hamilton '78," the lawman boasted proudly.

The dark-haired outlaw dropped his head down to his chest and gave it a shake.

"I figured you'd understand." Tate took two steps forward to stand alongside the other man. "You're right; they'd have to use dynamite to bust it open. I only know of one man 'round these parts who can open a P & H '78 without usin' dynamite, an' as strange as this may sound, you know what?" Tate nudged Heyes in the ribs with his elbow, "He's not the one I'm worried about."

Heyes swallowed and turned sideways to eye the lawman. "At the risk of repeating myself, Sheriff, there's no way anyone,even that fella you're not worried about, would be that stupid or crazy enough to try and rob that bank - no one!" he reiterated in a firm tone.

After he had taken a good look around them, Sheriff Tate took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Well, again, jus' between us law-abidin' citizens you understand, what if I was to tell you there was someone, actually a few 'someones', who've been hangin' 'round our small town more than they should, actin' kinda strange-like, an' well, let's jus' say that I had a real bad feelin' about 'em?"

Once he was over the 'law-abidin' citizens' part, Heyes quirked a brow and queried, "Strange-like?"

"Yessiree. Most of the time they jus' come into town on payday, get all liquored up an' whoop n' holler a lot - you know, hurrah the place - maybe get thrown in jail overnight. Next day when they've sobered up, they head on back to their spread about twenty miles outta town. Then things changed. Lately they've been comin' in more often, stayin' sober an' sittin' around not causin' trouble."

"I can see why you'd think they were acting strange-like," Heyes grinned, "It sounds to me like your job got easier, Sheriff. What's really troubling you?"

"They're not actin' normal - I can feel it in the air, somethin's not right!" the lawman declared fervently. "We already have our suspicions about 'em doin' some cattle rustlin' but so far we haven't been able to prove anythin'. An' another thing, there've been some new faces mixed in with the old crowd, an' well, if they did take it into their heads to try n' rob our bank, I'm not sure I'd be able to stop them - alone," he admitted reluctantly.

Tate hesitated long enough to give Heyes a measuring look. "Do you think that if you stayed around for jus' a bit longer," the lawman's face bespoke of his emotional state as he continued to plead his case, "that, with your reputation to back you up, an' them knowin' you were in town visitin' for a spell, then maybe they'd jus' plumb forget all about it an' leave us, an' our bank, alone?"

Heyes mulled over the sheriff's words. He and the Kid generally made it a rule not to get involved in anyone else's game if they could avoid it and this game sounded like it was pretty involved already. Unwilling to commit to anything important on the spur of the moment, Heyes prevaricated. "So, Sheriff, all these miners that come in to get their wages every Saturday; just what do they do with all their hard-earned money?"

Sheriff Tate's face lit up when he realized the Doc hadn't said an outright 'no' to his proposal. "Well, mostly they like to spend it on drinkin' and gamblin' all weekend long. Things kinda quiet down on Sunday mornin' when we're all over listenin' to the Preacher's sermon. Guess folks figure they better try n' get some kind of salvation after all that sinnin' they done the nights before!" the lawman chuckled.

Heyes grinned while he did some quick calculations. Today was Tuesday; Kid was due to arrive either late today or early tomorrow.If they could help the small town out with just their mere presence and relieve the miners of some of their money in the process, it would be of mutual benefit for everyone concerned, especially for him and Curry. "I'll need to talk this over with my friend when he arrives, of course, but while we're waiting, I don't see why we can't do it over a meal, especially if it's as good as you claim."

"Oh, it's even better! Well then, what're we waitin' for? C'mon, let's go get us some of that turkey and a slice or two of pie, Doc!"

Not bothering to correct Sheriff Tate, Heyes trailed along behind the lawman. It was only a meal; what could possibly go wrong?

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It wasn't long before Heyes was sitting at a table loaded with enough food to feed an army. Sheriff Tate was seated to his right and there was a vacant space on his left. Both men wasted no time and set to sampling the food on their well-filled plates.

A short time later, Heyes glanced to his other side and was pleasantly surprised to discover that, while he had been busy conversing with the other diners, an extremely attractive, and voluptuous, petite blonde had claimed the empty seat to his left. Since the lawman was busy chatting with a neighbor and unable to perform the introductions, Heyes took it upon himself to set matters right. He swallowed his mouthful of food and turned to the lady.

"Good afternoon, ma'am, I don't believe we've met? My name is Joshua Smith."

"Why of course it is," the lovely vision laughed and batted her long eyelashes at him and then gave the man an exaggerated wink.

Heyes merely smiled, no longer surprised by the gesture.

The musical voice of his dinner companion continued as he picked up his drink, "Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Smith,my name is Dolly, Dolly Hayes."

The familiar surname caused the surprised outlaw to suck in his breath; unfortunately for him, he had just taken a big drink of his lemonade. The liquid spewed out of his mouth as first he choked, and then coughed and sputtered an apology, "Sorry...went down the...wrong way," he gasped and then covered his mouth in an effort to curb the prolonged coughing fit.

Dolly jumped to her feet and began pounding him between his shoulder blades with her tiny fists. "Oh...I'm awful sorry, Doc!" She looked up to see the sheriff glaring daggers at her and sent the lawman an apologetic look before she returned her attention to the dark-haired man still trying to catch his breath.

"Horsefeathers, Doc, the Sheriff warned us all to be real careful an' not to get ya riled up none because of," Dolly hesitated, then leaned down close to the outlaw's ear, "well, ya know, because of 'your condition!" The last two words were almost inaudible.

Heyes took a couple of tentative breaths and waved a dismissive hand, "No harm done, Miss Hayes," he answered with a slight grin, noticing that his voice still sounded a bit strangled when he spoke her last name.

Reassured that she hadn't sent Doc Holliday on an early trip to see his maker, Dolly re-seated herself. "Oh, it's not Miss, Mister Smith," she patted his arm and gave him a dazzling smile that showed her pearly whites off to perfection.

"Oh, my mistake; I'm sorry, Mrs. Hayes," Heyes amended in a polite tone and minus the grin.

Noting the look on the man's face, Dolly hastened to add in a honeyed tone, "No need to be sorry, Joshua; it's Widow Hayes, my husband died over a year ago."

"I'm real sorry to hear that, ma'am," the outlaw responded, looking anything but, as he picked up his fork, a dimpled grin on his face.

Just then, the beanpole man poked his head around the corner of the door. "Uh, s'cuse me, Sheriff, can I see ya for jus' a minute?"

"Now, Harvey?" the annoyed lawman responded, "Can't ya see I'm busy entertainin' the Doc?" Tate turned to Heyes. "Sorry, Mister Smith."

"It's Joshua," Heyes corrected with a tolerant smile.

"Right, Joshua."

"Sheriff!" Harvey's voice was more insistent.

"Can't it wait?" Sheriff Tate didn't bother to hide his exasperation at being disturbed.

"No!"

The lawman sighed heavily. "Okay, but it'd better be important!" he warned as he rose reluctantly from his seat to join the agitated man at the door. "Alright, what's got you so daggone all-fired up that you gotta drag me away from the Doc?" Sheriff Tate glared at the man.

Harvey pulled the irate lawman outside. "Look!" he instructed as he pointed to a sandy- haired stranger standing beside the water trough."Him!"

The Sheriff gave the man a cursory glance. "Well, what about 'him'?"

"Sheriff," Harvey began in an aggrieved tone, "I think we might have us a purty big problem. That man right there over yonder fits the description I got of Doc Holliday even better'n that other fella we got inside. Ya know, the one who keeps sayin' he's not Doc Holliday? S'pose the one inside's tellin' the truth? If he is, an' he's really not, then this one here has to be the right one. An' if he is, well, then we made an awful big mistake!" Having run out of steam, Harvey fell silent.

"Hmm..." Sheriff Tate scrutinized the new arrival more carefully, "Maybe. Could be this one's the real Doc Holliday. Maybe that other fella really is Joshua Smith, jus' like he claims." He turned back to face Harvey, "C'mon, there's one sure way to find out!"

The lawman marched back inside the social hall. "Mister Smith, I'd like to see you outside - RIGHT NOW!" he emphasized the last two words as he pivoted and exited the hall without waiting for the other man to join him.

Sheriff Tate's brusqueness puzzled Heyes. Alerted by the sudden shift in the man's attitude, warning bells began to ring in his head as the outlaw followed him with his eyes. As Tate disappeared through the door, Heyes wiped his mouth on his napkin, excused himself from the table and made his way outside to join the lawman.

"Yes, Sheriff?" he arched a brow, "Something wrong?" he kept his voice pleasant, striving to appear as innocent as possible under the circumstances.

Sheriff Tate pointed.

Heyes followed the lawman's outstretched finger. His eyes widened and he stepped forward quickly.

"Hey, Wyatt - uh, I mean, Thaddeus," Heyes sent Curry a warning look, "it's 'bout time you got here!"

Hearing the familiar voice, Curry's head jerked up in surprise. He quickly looked behind him in both directions, and then realized he was the only one standing in the street.

"The Sheriff here and I are real glad to see you. Seems there's been a little case of mistaken identity - they think I'm Doc Holliday!" Heyes laughed. "I've tried telling them my name is Joshua Smith, but I don't think they believe me." He sent the Curry another warning look. "Sheriff, this is my friend, Thaddeus Jones; Thaddeus, this is Sheriff Sam Tate."

"Uh, howdy Sheriff; it's uh, real nice to meet you." I think, the confused outlaw added under his breath as he tipped his hat respectfully to the lawman and shot his partner a questioning look.

"Seems our reputations have preceded us, my friend. A 'little bird' let it out that we'd be heading this direction on our way to Yuma, and the whole entire town is pleased as punch to welcome us. Why, they're so happy to have us with them, they've even made us something special to eat."

"Food?" Curry's mood lightened considerably.

Sheriff Tate grinned, satisfied by all that the dark-haired man had said. Well, 'Smith' had certainly explained everything; it all made perfect sense. As famous as the Doc and Wyatt were, they would almost certainly have to use aliases to protect themselves when they traveled. He was filled with self-importance as he realized that these two legendary men were trusting him to keep their secret safe. And with both of them in his small town, trouble should stay on its horse and pass Lone Butte right on by.

"C'mon inside the hall and get that belly of yours filled up; I'll get someone to take care of your horse, Mister Earp."

"The name's Jones, Sheriff - Thaddeus Jones," Curry corrected automatically as he tethered his horse and warily approached the lawman.

"Anything you say, Mister Jones."

Kid's eyes widened when Sheriff Tate gave him a big wink. Thoroughly confused, he turned to follow the lawman inside. It didn't help when, from somewhere behind him, he could have sworn he heard Heyes mutter something that sounded like, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

As he stepped inside the social hall, a dazed Curry couldn't help but stop and stare in amazement at the array of tempting foods; it made him feel light-headed to see that much food all in one place.

The sheriff directed him towards an empty chair and Curry found himself standing next to a beautiful woman; he noticed Heyes was on her other side. Great, that meant they wouldn't have the chance to talk privately here either.

"Hey, Dolly, think you can manage not to kill off this young man? He's a close friend of the Doc's, I mean, Mister Smith. We wanna make sure he gets what he needs without fearin' for his life!"

An indignant Dolly glared at the lawman as she stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Why, Samuel Tate, I can't believe you just said that to me!" she pouted, "I'm perfectly capable of givin' the man whatever he needs!" Although the woman had done her best to sound angry, she ruined the effect by letting loose with a peal of infectious laughter, "Y'all just go on with whatever it is that needs doin' and leave him to me," she winked.

As the other diners joined in the congenial laughter, Curry grinned, struck with her good looks. She was petite with long blonde hair that curled about her face, and in addition, she had a certain charm, along with a distinctive drawl that was packed full of southern warmth and hospitality.

Heyes rolled his eyes. The Kid hadn't been in town for more than ten minutes and already he was smitten!

Curry held Dolly's chair as she re-seated herself.

"You look plumb tuckered out; why don't ya sit yourself down right here next to me," she patted the empty chair with her hand," Mister...?"

"Uh, Jones, ma'am," Curry supplied as he belatedly removed his hat and dropped down into the proffered seat, "Thaddeus Jones." Food was temporarily forgotten as he gazed with undisguised admiration at the woman beside him.

"Thaddeus...Jones," Dolly repeated, then turned to the man on her right. "Joshua Smith?" When Heyes nodded, she arched her brows and turned back to Curry. "And Jones?" Kid nodded.

"Smith an' Jones - boy, if you two ain't original!" Dolly declared with a wry grin. She gave Curry a pronounced wink that caused the outlaw's jaw to drop open in astonishment.

What was with these people, everybody winkin' all the time? Curry's brain had barely processed the fact when Dolly pressed a biscuit into his hand; he raised it automatically to his lips and chomped down on the still warm bread.

"Hey, Thaddeus," Heyes peered around Dolly's ample bosom in time to observe Curry fill his mouth, "I'd like to introduce you to this lovely lady sitting beside you."

If Curry had been paying closer attention, he might have noticed the devilish twinkle in his partner's eyes as he continued. "She may know who you are, but you still don't know who she is." The dark-haired outlaw grinned, "Mr. Thaddeus Jones, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Dolly Hayes."

The buttered biscuit dropped from Curry's hand."Mrs. Heyes?" he echoed, gaping at his partner as if the man had suddenly taken leave of his senses. "You're...married?"he whispered, his eyes asking all the other questions his mouth couldn't as they darted quickly back and forth between the couple.

The sound of laughter caused the sandy-haired outlaw's brow to furrow even more.

Only Heyes understood the true meaning behind Curry's confusion and words, "No, Dolly's not married," he chuckled, "she was, but she's not anymore; now, she's the Widow Hayes. H...a...y...e...s," he spelled the name out slowly, "Her husband is no longer with us."

"Oh." Catching the grin on Heyes' face, Curry realized that he'd been had and gave a rueful shake of his head. "I'm real sorry, ma'am," he apologized to Dolly, "sometimes I tend to get things confused, especially after a long trip."

Dolly laid a hand on his arm, "Don't give it another thought, Thaddeus. In fact, your confusion, along with your honesty helped me to make an important decision; I'll be happy to share it with you after we've had our dessert, if you'd like?"

Curry grinned, "That's fine with me ma'am." He received a dazzling smile in return as Dolly nodded.

"Good, that's settled, then. I think you'll be pleased with what I've decided."

The rest of the meal progressed without incident. It was only when Curry laid his fork to rest after his last bite of pie, that Dolly turned to face him.

She dabbed at her mouth daintily with her napkin and leaned forward, keeping her voice low. "Well, Thaddeus Jones, what if I told you that what I've decided is that I'd like you to escort me while I show you around our small town; what would you say to that?"

Curry grinned in response. "I'd say that sounds like a mighty fine decision, ma'am."

He stood up and helped Dolly to her feet. As they passed behind Heyes, Curry put a hand on his partner's shoulder. "I'll meet you over in the saloon later, okay?"

Heyes nodded absently before he returned his attention to the man across the table from him who was recounting a story about last week's poker games and sharing anecdotes about the various players. As the outlaw listened raptly, he filed the information away for future use. Heyes smiled. From the sound of it, several of the miners enjoyed high-stakes games, but not many were fortunate enough to be big winners. If he and Kid played their cards right, they could both leave Lone Butte a whole lot richer than when they rode in.

0000000

Once they were outside the hall, Dolly offered her arm to Curry. He obligingly took it and tucked it inside the crook of his own arm and then placed a protective hand over it.

Dolly turned to look up into his face. "I hope you don't think I'm bein' too bold by askin' you to go for a walk with me, especially since we jus' met?"

"Oh no, ma'am; I don't think that at all," Curry hastened to assure her, "I think you're jus' bein' kind to a stranger, offerin' to show me the sights 'n all. I have to be honest with you, though; I think I'm lookin' at the most beautiful sight Lone Butte has to offer, right here in front of me."

Dolly gave a tinkling laugh, "Why Thaddeus, I do believe that's one of the nicest things anybody's said to me in a long time; I think I'm goin' to enjoy gettin' better acquainted with you!"

Curry grinned back. "Me too, ma'am."

Dolly swatted his arm playfully, "Enough with the ma'am stuff, you're makin' me feel like an' old spinster auntie; jus' call me Dolly, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am - uh, I mean, Dolly."

The woman shook her head, "Well, let's get started; Lone Butte can be pretty interestin', 'specially if you've got the right person to show ya around."

"I think I've got the perfect person right beside me."

"My, my, my...you sure know what to say to a woman, dontcha? Well, it seems like I've got my work cut out for me, don't it?" She cast the sandy-haired man a speculative look from under her long lashes. "You an adventurous man, Thaddeus?"

"Adventurous, ma'am?" At Dolly's pointed look he quickly amended, "uh, I mean, Dolly," his own expression quizzical.

"Willin' to take a chance; go off the main trail, so to speak. I know of a few spots that aren't very popular with most folks, for one reason or another, but they're worth the trouble it takes to get to where they are. Of course, they'd most probably be completely deserted; that might be a bit 'too adventurous' for a man like you, perhaps?"

"A little peace n' quiet sounds like a real nice way to spend the afternoon, 'specially in the company of a woman like you," Curry answered smoothly.

"Peace n' quiet, hmm? You do have a way with words," Dolly gave the outlaw's arm a little squeeze. "Our tour starts right here. Look around; see anything unusual?" she challenged.

After a quick glance around, Curry shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like any other small town I've been in. Saloons, hotels, the bank, sheriff's office, a schoolhouse, an' the general store. Nope, nothin' special that I see."

"Take another look," Dolly directed.

"Nope," Curry shook his head, "still nothin'."

"Maybe you're tryin' too hard. I'll give you a clue; start with the bank."

With a tolerant smile, he did as she instructed. His eyes traveled the width and the length of the building and then his eyes widened as they went upwards.

Dolly smiled.

"The hotel is sittin' on top of the bank!" Curry exclaimed.

"Bingo," she congratulated him. "Don't see that very often, do ya?"

"No, ma'am, you sure don't. Is it safe? I mean, don't people try to break into it from inside the hotel?"

"No, it's too much work for most bank robbers. It'd take an awful lot of plannin' to do the job right. Lots of equipment too, including dynamite to blow up the safe, so no one's ever bothered to try."

"Guess not," Curry shook his head. He wondered idly if his partner had already planned on how he'd do the job, if robbing the bank of Lone Butte were still an option open to them. "So, what other interestin' things have you got planned to show me?"

"Come this way; I think we should head for one of those quiet places next, don't you? There's an old well back behind an old abandoned building, just on the outskirts of town." She tugged on his hand, pulling him along with her as she continued, "Some folks claim it's haunted."

Although his eyes widened, Curry allowed Dolly to lead him down the boardwalk, listening to the woman as she fulfilled her duties as tour guide along the way.

0000000

Back in the Town Hall, Heyes was enjoying his second piece of pie, along with another cup of coffee as he continued to swap stories with the townspeople, collecting valuable bits of information in the process.

Sheriff Tate excused himself. "Sorry folks, but a sheriff's job is never done; I've got to go make my rounds an' check in with the deputy. I won't be gone too long; be sure to save a piece of that pie for me, Joshua, you hear?"

Heyes nodded and leaned back in his chair, feeling the most relaxed he'd been in the past few weeks. "Hey," The outlaw began, "that story reminds me of the time..."

0000000

Curry and Dolly were strolling slowly back towards town. Their trip to the well had allowed the couple a brief, but mutually satisfying, interlude in which they did indeed become better acquainted. Neither of the two had seen or heard anything to substantiate the claim of the well's legendary ghostly apparitions during their visit, which was perfectly fine with them.

"I don't know about you, Thaddeus, but my throat is parched after all that talkin' I've been doin'. How about if we stop by the saloon for a drink?" Dolly suggested.

Curry stopped to give her a look.

Dolly rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me like that; it's perfectly respectable. Mrs. Johnson's establishment is frequented by all the ladies an' their gentlemen escorts. Besides all the usual drinks you would find in a saloon, they have special liqueurs, an' sometimes there's even some special music, if we're lucky. C'mon, I'll show ya."

Once more Curry found himself being pulled along in Dolly's wake. He'd heard about places like Dolly had just described, but so far had been lucky enough to avoid them.

After they were seated, Dolly gave him a calculating look. "You don't look quite like a whiskey drinker to me," she cocked her head, "I see ya more as a scotch man; am I right?"

"Right on the nose," Curry grinned, "How'd you do that?"

"It's a secret; kind of a little game I like to play every now an' then. It's nice to know I can still win," she smiled.

"And you? What's your poison, Dolly," Curry queried.

"Me?" Dolly laughed, "Over the years I think I've acquired a taste for a little bit of everythin'. Tonight though, I think I'll join you for some of the best scotch the house has to offer. Let me go have a word with Jake; he owes me a big favor an' I think I'll collect on it right now."

Curry watched her walk away, knowing that she knew he was watching her, and grinned. He'd never met a woman quite like her before and if the brief sample of her passion at the well was any indication, she was interested in him, too. He looked up as Dolly returned with a tray. Resting upon it was a full bottle and two glasses.

Curry reached out and picked up the scotch. He whistled in appreciation as he read the label, "Boy, Jake sure must've owed you a really big favor - this is the good stuff!"

"Let's jus' say that I saved him, an' this place, a few thousand dollars. This is jus' a drop in the bucket to what he says he owes me."

Curry opened the bottle and poured them each a glass.

Dolly raised hers in a toast, "Here's to fate, which brought two strangers together and allowed them to become friends."

Curry raised his own glass and clinked it gently against hers. "Maybe more than friends," he amended with a smile as he looked into Dolly's eyes.

Meeting his gaze, Dolly hesitated briefly and then nodded. "More than friends, Thaddeus," she agreed.

Both tossed back their drink and set the empty glass on the table, almost in unison. They laughed together as both drew in a deep breath when the fiery liquid raced down their throats and hit their stomachs. The warmth spread throughout their bodies as it made its way back up.

"My goodness, that sure did hit the spot," Dolly gasped.

"You can say that again," Curry readily agreed as he poured another glass for himself. He looked at Dolly.

"Oh, yes, please; it'll take more than a little scotch to do me in!" she chuckled as she pushed her glass towards him.

As the afternoon progressed, Dolly made sure that while Curry's glass remained full, the liquid in hers barely needed replenishing. She nursed her second glass, sipping it slowly between words of encouragement for her companion to drink his down. Time after time, she filled his glass while she kept him entertained with humorous anecdotes designed to keep his mind occupied so he wouldn't notice.

Dolly was quite proud of the fact that she even managed to throw in a few chaste kisses, her eyes and whispered words promising him more when they were alone. She poured another glass of scotch and put it into Curry's hand. He didn't resist, even when she helped to curl his fingers around the glass. "C'mon 'n drink up, darlin', the night's still young." When the drink remained on the table, she reached out and curled her own fingers around the outlaw's, and guided the drink to his mouth.

"Drink it all up, there's plenty more where that came from," she promised and watched with a gleam of satisfaction as Curry tilted his head back and drained the glass. He set the empty glass down, folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them.

Dolly looked towards the doors as a well-dressed man stepped inside and walked towards the bar. After ordering, he turned to survey the room. When his gaze turned in her direction, she inclined her head in a subtle nod at his raised eyebrows and he, in turn, looked at the man seated next to her. Sending her a curt nod, he downed his drink and left the saloon as silently as he had entered it.

Looking around the crowded establishment, Dolly was pleased to see that their exchange had gone completely unnoticed and reached out to run a hand through the sandy curls of the man next to her. "It's too bad, Thaddeus...or whoever you are; really a shame..."

0000000

Heyes was relaxing with his third cup of coffee when Sheriff Tate came bursting through the door.

"Doc! Doc, ya gotta come quick!"

The outlaw sat up, coffee forgotten. "It's Joshua Smith, Sheriff, remember?

"Never ya mind about all that alias mumbo-jumbo. There's two fellas waitin' outside who say they've got a score to settle with you!"

"A score to settle?" Heyes stood up. "With me? Sheriff, didn't you try and explain to them that I'm not really Doc Holliday?"

"Well, Doc, I tried tellin' 'em that you were Joshua Smith, but I guess they didn't believe me," the lawman answered apologetically.

"My guess is that maybe that's because you didn't try hard enough!" Heyes muttered in exasperation.

"Please, Doc, you've got to go out there," the lawman pleaded, "They said that 'lessen you came out in five minutes, they was comin' in after ya, an' it don't matter to them who gets hurt." Desperation crept into Tate's voice, "At least go out there an' talk to 'em!"

Heyes shook his head, "It's still Joshua, Sheriff, and I don't think talking is what they have in mind," he answered in a dry tone. After a moment's hesitation, he took off his jacket, then removed his gun from his holster and laid it on the table.

Sheriff Tate looked at him in shocked surprise. "Just what in the blue blazes do ya think you're doin'? Are ya crazy? Without a gun- "

Heyes turned to the anxious lawman waiting beside him. "Without a gun, I'm unarmed," Heyes finished his sentence, "They're not going to shoot an unarmed man," he asserted firmly.

Pivoting about, Heyes left a gaping sheriff behind as he stepped up to the door that would lead him to whomever, or whatever, waited beyond it. Taking a deep breath, he shouldered his way through the batwings; his back was ramrod straight, his stride unfaltering and he wore a look of determination upon his face.

0000000

It was easy enough to identify the two men. One appeared to be middle-aged, while the other looked young enough to still be in his teens. They stood side by side, together in the middle of the street, facing the saloon. Both looked like they were spoiling for a fight.

Heyes hooked his thumbs in his belt and forced a smile to his face. "Evenin', gentlemen; the Sheriff tells me you fellas want to see me, so here I am. What can I do for you?" He kept his tone neutral, almost pleasant.

"You can draw, Doc!" the older man growled.

"Draw?" On the two of you?" Heyes gave a snort of laughter and elevated his brow. "Now why would I want to do that? I'm not that brave or that stupid, but more important, I'm not armed." He patted his empty holster to prove his point.

The two men looked as if they couldn't believe what they were hearing and exchanged a look.

"As you, and all these other witnesses," Heyes looked around in both directions, "can plainly see, I am not wearing a gun." He slowly opened his vest and patted his pockets one by one, to further illustrate his point. Without turning around, Heyes knew that the townspeople would all be smiling and nodding their heads, readily agreeing with his words. For once, he didn't mind.

His tone still calm and even, Heyes continued, "And since everyone knows it's against the law to shoot an unarmed man - like me - unless there's something else?" Receiving only insolent glares for an answer, Heyes added, "Well, in that case, I suggest we go our separate ways..."

Leaving his suggestion unfinished, the dark-haired man's appearance underwent a split-second transformation. His eyes darkened, turning cold and hard, the slight smile vanished completely to be replaced with lips pressed together in a firm line. His stance resolute, Hannibal Heyes appeared calm, while exuding the impression of deliberate formidability. Even without a gun, the man looked positively dangerous. At least as far as all of the citizens of Lone Butte were concerned, he did. The man most certainly did look impressive, they agreed with nods and smiles.

"That way, nobody will get hurt," Heyes concluded and then fell silent.

Appearing unaffected by the intimidation tactics, after exchanging another look with his companion, the younger man stepped away to stand beside one of the male spectators. Making a sudden lunge, he removed the gun from the surprised, and unsuspecting, man's holster.

"Here, catch!"

The weapon was tossed in Heyes' direction; the outlaw instinctively put his hands up, catching the gun in mid-air.

"Now you're armed," the young man smirked.

"And in case you're countin', Doc, there's only one of us now," the older man pointed out. "Put the gun in your holster," he ordered as he pulled his own gun to back up his words.

Heyes deliberated for a few seconds and then looked down at the weapon he held in his hands. "Seems a shame for me to have to shoot you, mister, when I don't even know your name." He raised his eyes to stare into the stranger's eyes. "Or why you want to die."

There was a visible reaction from both men as they digested his words.

The older man spoke up, "You're right, Doc; a man should know the name of the man who's gonna kill him - an' why. My name's Carter, Wes Carter. You're the man who killed my little brother, Adam. He was jus' a snot-nosed kid, didn't know any better, not that it mattered to you none. He'd been drinkin' an' playin' cards with you that night. Witnesses said he accused you of cheatin' an' drew on you. You could've jus' winged him, he was so stinkin' drunk he could barely stand, let alone hit the side of a barn, but no! You never even gave that boy a chance! At least I'm doin' that much."

Heyes didn't blink; he never took his eyes off the man who still had a gun pointed at him. "Sometimes, there isn't enough time to think."

"That don't matter now. What does, is that Adam's dead and I'm here to make things right for him."

"And what's he here for?" Heyes turned towards the younger man who, upon finding himself the recipient of the man's glare, gave a nervous start.

"You have a score to settle with me, too?"

The boy looked to Wes in mute appeal.

"His name's Steve Wilson," Wes snapped. "Steve was Adam's best friend an' he's here in case I miss. Wants to make sure you pay for what you did to Adam, too. Isn't that right, Stevie?"

The young man nodded vigorously, "Sure is, Wes; Adam didn't deserve to die like that!"

"I don't guess it would do me any good to try and tell you that I'm not really Doc Holliday, would it?"

"You guessed right, Doc," Wes sneered. "Now quit stallin' an' let's get this over with! Put that gun in your holster or I'll drop ya right where ya stand, jus' like ya did Adam!"

Heyes realized he was out of aces and slowly holstered the borrowed gun.

With a satisfied smile on his weathered face, Wes put his own weapon back into his holster and took up a gunfighter's stance.

Townspeople scattered.

0000000

Inside Mrs. Johnson's, Dolly had managed to get Curry to sit upright and was in the midst of trying to coax him into leaving with her when she was interrupted.

"Hey, everybody, Doc Holliday's gonna shoot it out with two gunslingers in front of the Social Hall right now!" a ranch hand hollered into the crowded room, then ran out again.

Hearing the announcement, everyone rushed towards the door, anxious to watch the legend in action.

Gunfight…Doc Holliday. Even in his inebriated state, the words managed to penetrate the fog that surrounded Curry's brain. Heyes was pretendin' to be Doc Holliday...wasn't he? He frowned, shook his head and managed to get to his feet.

Dolly jumped up and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, holding him tight. "No, Thaddeus, you can't go out there; let him handle it himself, please?" she begged.

Curry gave another shake of his head in an effort to clear it. "You don't understand, it's not a choice; I have to," he insisted stubbornly.

"No you don't; you need to stay right here with me," Dolly tried to push him backwards into his chair. "You don't know what you're doing; you'll be killed! Please, Thaddeus, I couldn't bear it if somethin' happened to you!" Tears pooled in her eyes and her lips quivered.

Yanking his arm free from the woman's grasp, Curry took a step towards the door. As the room began to blur, he swayed and grabbed hold of the table to steady himself.

"See, Thaddeus, you can't help him – why, you can't even stand up on your own two feet!"

"He needs me!" Curry yelled in frustration.

"I need you, too, Thaddeus! You an' I - we could be good together," Dolly's voice was thick with persuasion. "Jus' think of all the fun we had today. You know I'm right, but you're gonna have to decide, it can't be both - it's him or me!" She delivered the ultimatum and then stood back to wait for his answer.

Curry glared at Dolly. His anger had served to clear away some of the cobwebs that clouded his head. She didn't know what she was asking and there wasn't time enough to explain. He watched as tears trailed down her cheeks and saw what he thought was the look of defeat on her face as he turned and stumbled towards the door. As he shouldered his way through the batwings, he could only hope that he wasn't too late.

0000000

Through her tears, crocodile ones though they were, Dolly watched him leave, her own fury mounting by the second.

"Damn you, Jones - damn ya all the way to hell!" she whispered, cursing the man who was single-handedly ruining her life. Brody wasn't going to just let this go. And he was probably going to hold her personally responsible for it, too. Wait, maybe there was still a chance that she could convince Jones to let Smith take care of it on his own? She took off after him, catching up with him as he stood on the top stair of the boardwalk.

0000000

As Heyes stepped further into the middle of the street, the absence of noise created an eerie mood. Then, as the two men faced off against each other, the atmosphere shifted ever so slightly, once more.

"Trouble?" a quiet voice from somewhere behind and over Heyes' left shoulder drawled.

"Not really; we're just having ourselves a friendly little conversation," Heyes answered smoothly. His brown eyes locked with those of his opponent, who hadn't looked away either. "No need for anyone else to butt in," he added pointedly.

"Well then, in that case it shouldn't be a problem if another 'friend' joins in, should it?" Ignoring Heyes' warning and not waiting for an answer, Curry started forward.

Dolly grabbed his arm in one last desperate attempt to hold Curry back. "Thaddeus, please, listen -" Curry never let her finish.

He shrugged her hands off and pushed her away. His voice was ominously quiet, low enough that only she could hear, "You can't stop me, Dolly," he growled, "Let it go! I already told you - this is the way it has to be!"

Something in the man's tone caused Dolly to shiver, despite the afternoon heat. She looked into eyes that had been a warm and friendly blue with his teasing earlier and glimpsed the steely coldness of a winter blizzard they now held in their depths; she backed away in defeat.

Curry took his time to navigate slowly down the few steps that separated the boardwalk from the street before he sauntered over to his partner's right side.

At the same time, Steve sidled over to join Wes, the look on the young man's face betraying him. The move was more to benefit from the older man's protection than to lend him support.

As the two sets of men stood facing one another in the middle of the main street of Lone Butte, Curry chanced to glance down at Heyes' holster and did a double-take when he saw the weapon.

"Now jus' where in tarnation did you get such a pathetic excuse for a gun?" With a derisive snort of mocking laughter he yanked the weapon free to examine the Colt more closely. "Why, this here little pea-shooter wouldn't hurt a flea!" he announced with a contemptuous sniff . All eyes were on the sandy-haired man as he bent down to lay the weapon on the ground.

When he straightened up, Curry's own Colt .45 cleared leather, almost seeming to leap into his hand, the business end pointed directly at Wes and Steve, both of whom went slack-jawed at the display.

"Let's go over this once again, friends. In case you haven't noticed, myfriend hereis unarmed. He doesn't have a gun. He can't shoot you. Now me, I'm a whole 'nother story. I am armed; I do have a gun, an' I can shoot you. Either of you feelin' real lucky today?"

White as a sheet and bug-eyed, Steve raised his hands high in the air and wasted no time in taking a step backwards, shaking his head emphatically, while Wes wore the look of a man who was sorry he had ever bothered to get up that morning.

"You fellas got mighty quiet all of a sudden. Anythin' else you wanna say to my friend, here?"

Both Wes and Steve remained mute as they shook their heads, making sure their hands never went anywhere near their guns.

"Well, then I guess my friend an' I'll jus' go on an' get back to doin' what we were doin' before you two walk-offs interrupted us. I don't s'pect we'll be runnin' into either of you for the rest of our stay here in Lone Butte," Curry pinned the two men with a piercing steely-eyed glare, "will we?"

Wes and Steve gave more vigorous shakes of their heads and Steve added an adamant, "No, sir!" for good measure.

"Then git!" Curry growled. His warning had the effect of dynamite.

Steve and Wes were the center of attention as everyone watched them trip over their own two feet, as well as each other, in their eagerness to comply. Within seconds, all that remained was a cloud of dust.

Curry spun the Colt on his finger, ending with a flourish as he re-holstered the weapon, much to the delight of the crowd that had begun to gather again. There was even a faint smattering of applause at the impressive gunmanship now that the imminent danger was over.

The small town was abuzz with excitement.

"Don't that beat all?"

"I never seen anythin' like it!"

"Wasn't that somethin'? That Wyatt, he sure showed 'em!"

"Nobody's THAT fast!"

"Did ya see him draw? I never saw him draw!"

"He was like lightnin'! One second the gun was in his holster, the next it was in his hand!"

"Neither the Doc or Wyatt ever looked afraid; they was jus' as cool 'n calm as if it were nothin'!"

"That gun jus' appeared in his hand like magic!"

"Boy, wish I could draw that fast!"

"That whole time, they never shot anyone; never had to fire their guns even once. I don't know how. Sure thought they was gonna havta, didn't you?"

"That Wyatt sure stuck up fer the Doc; now that's a real friend!"

"Yep, they stood together, even in a gunfight!"

And so on, and so on...et cetera, et cetera...the comments continued to flow around the two 'celebrities'. With the threat of danger erased from their little community, the proud townspeople were eager to share their approval of the way the Doc and Wyatt had handled things. The general consensus was that the two men had worked together to take a potentially bad situation and turn it around so that it could come to a happy conclusion.

Heyes took the opportunity to turn to face Curry just as Curry turned to face Heyes.

"You don't listen very well, do you?" Heyes scowled at his partner in annoyance. "There wasn't any need for both of us to get shot up! I was doing pretty good on my own."

"Uh, huh," His thumbs hooked into his belt, Curry's blue eyes never blinked. "I let you try it your way first; trouble was, your new 'friends' weren't in a listenin' kinda mood," he explained calmly. "They wanted action; I jus' gave it to 'em." He shrugged and looked over Heyes' shoulder at the lights still shining in the Social Hall. "C'mon, let's go see if there's any of that food left, Doc!" Curry chuckled as he slung an arm across his partner's shoulders.

"Funny, Wyatt; real funny!" Heyes retorted, unable to prevent a silent sigh of relief as things once again returned to normal. Nothing like a little gunplay to restore Kid's good humor. Well, that and a good meal, he amended.

0000000

As the crowd began to disperse, no one paid any special attention to the two men who lingered behind in the background and hung in the shadows. This was fine with them; they preferred not to be noticed. They made double sure they remained out of sight of the two strangers who were being hailed as heroes in the middle of the street.

They too had witnessed the drama of the gunfight as it had unfolded; watched it as it played out to its climatic conclusion and were now quietly discussing that interesting outcome.

"See, Brody, told ya there was gonna be trouble."

"Yep, Roy, you sure did." Brody inhaled on his cigar.

"An' I was right, too!"

"You sure were," Brody readily agreed.

"An' that dark-haired one; he's not Doc Holliday, neither!"

"Right again; no, he most certainly is not. And if he's not the Doc - "

"Then that other fella - he sure ain't Wyatt Earp!" Roy finished proudly.

Brody shook his head absently.

Roy fell silent.

Busy thinking, Brody contemplated the whos and the whys of the two men. He didn't buy that dark-haired one's flimsy excuse of mistaken identity, one whit. What was really in it for them? And why had they picked Lone Butte to do their pretending in?

Taking another long draw on his cigar, Brody pondered some more. One stranger getting in the way of things, making himself a nuisance and upsetting his carefully laid plans was definitely annoying, but certainly manageable. But two strangers, both of them smart-mouthed and one a fast-drawing gunslinger, well now, that really complicated things. And if there was one thing he disliked, it was complications.

Taking one last puff, Brody dropped the cigar and stomped on it with the heel of his boot, grinding it into the sod. As he looked down at the pile of ashes, a smile appeared on his face; he had a plan. Like his cigar, all he had to do was crush the man.

Roy was watching Brody's face. The smile had been the signal that it was alright to talk again. His own face wore a satisfied expression. "You got an idea what we're gonna do 'bout 'em, Boss?" he asked.

"We're gonna crush 'em, that's what we're gonna do. Dolly didn't do her job with that gunslinger; she let us all down. Let's go on over to the saloon and have us a beer or two; I need some more time to work out a couple of details."

0000000

Entering the hall, the two heroes were welcomed with open arms and heaping plates of food. There was still plenty of it to go around, enough to satisfy Curry and still have leftovers. The women bustled around, eager to serve them, fetching the men anything they wanted and only too glad to keep their plates full.

The people who had already eaten gathered around to hear more stories and to swap tales of their own. The rest of the night passed uneventfully, for which everyone was thankful, especially an extremely fatigued and still slightly inebriated, Kid Curry.

Halfway through one of his stories, Heyes realized that, despite Curry's best efforts, the ill-effects of the scotch were beginning to catch up to him. His friend was rapidly losing the battle to keep his eyes open.

"Isn't that right, Wyatt?" Heyes had to suppress a grin as he nudged his partner with the toe of his boot.

"Huh? What? Hey - why'd you poke me for? I heard every word you said!"

"Oh, really? Then answer my question; we're all waiting."

Curry blinked and looked around. Indeed, everyone was waiting. He slumped back down in his chair. Before he could offer a word in self-defense, a huge yawn settled the matter for him. As he tried unsuccessfully to stifle it, a burst of laughter filled the hall.

"Well, folks," Heyes addressed the crowd as he rose to his feet, a dimpled grin on his face, "looks like it's time to call it a night. Thaddeus here, he tends to get a tad cranky if I keep him up too late. You all saw what he did earlier?" As the crowd nodded and smiled, Heyes added, "Well, he was kinda tired then, so just imagine what he's capable of when he's had a full night's sleep!"

While Heyes received hoots and guffaws of laughter, he was also the recipient of a scowl from his thoroughly disgruntled partner.

"C'mon, Thaddeus, let's get you on up to your room and into bed so you can catch up on some of that beauty sleep you've been missing!"

Midst the laughter that followed, Curry muttered loud enough that only Heyes could hear, "Keep it up, an' you're gonna need a doc, Doc!" which only caused Heyes to grin even more.

"See ya in the morning, Mister Smith, Mister Jones."

"G'night, Wyatt; g'night, Doc."

Et cetera, et cetera, as the two men tried to make their way out of the hall.

0000000

Tried was an understatement. A frustrated Heyes and Curry made gradual progress towards the door, forced to stop every few feet to shake a hand, listen politely and say a few words to each and every person before they could move on.

"A snail could move faster," Curry grumbled under his breath. His face wore a look of envy as Heyes finally managed to reach the door.

Using his hands to gesture to his unfortunate partner who was still trapped inside, Heyes signaled that he'd meet Kid upstairs, held up three fingers and mouthed the words, 'Room three,' and quickly made his escape.

This is worse than tryin' to break outta jail! Curry groused and nodded at Heyes to show that he'd understood. He then realized belatedly that the woman standing in front of him thought he'd nodded at her question. He wondered what he'd just agreed to.

Her next question set his mind at ease, "So, you do like both bacon and sausage, then?"

Curry grinned in relief and nodded again, "Yes, ma'am." It was only food; that was a pretty safe subject. "The truth is, ma'am, there isn't much I don't like to eat."

The woman nodded and smiled, "Well, I was pretty sure that Ida Mae told us that the Doc was downright partial to both, but I wasn't positive about you, Mr. Earp."

Curry swallowed hard; the rest of the woman's words were lost on him as he realized his blunder. Damn, he was supposed to be Wyatt Earp - wasn't he? With a quick apology to the woman, he pushed his way through the rest of the throng of people and finally found himself outside. Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, he made his way towards the hotel. His head already felt clearer.

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Meanwhile, Heyes was having problems of his own. He had just topped the stairs, when suddenly a loud crash, followed by a woman's muffled scream shattered the quiet of the night. Without giving it another thought, he rushed towards the room he thought the noise had come from and knocked on the door of room # 7. Almost immediately, he heard a female voice speaking through the closed door.

"Yes?" The voice was hesitant, cautious.

"It's - " Heyes caught himself, then shrugged, "it's Joshua Smith, ma'am; I thought I heard something an' wondered if there was some kind of trouble?"

"Oh, no, Mister Smith, it's Dolly, Dolly Hayes. You do remember me from dinner, dontcha?"

Along with a slight wince, Heyes grinned, "Yes, ma'am, I sure do remember you, Miss Hayes; it'd be kinda hard for a man to forget someone like you. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, everything is fine. Silly me, I just knocked over the water basin; it was an accident. I can take care of it by myself, but thank you very much for askin'."

"Okay, ma'am, if you say everything's alright, then I guess I'll be saying goodnight."

"Goodnight, Joshua." There was a brief silence. "I can save a seat for you at breakfast, right beside me, if you'd like?"

"Thank you, I'd like that very much, ma'am."

"It's Dolly, Joshua; an' I'm lookin' forward to seein' you at breakfast."

"Me, too, ma'am - uh, I mean, Dolly, g'night." As he stepped away, another sound caught his attention. He stood still to listen, however, all he heard was quiet. Heyes shrugged his shoulders.

Turning the key in the lock, Heyes let himself into the room and lit the lamp. He grinned as he wondered how long it would be before the Kid managed to escape? Pulling his boots off, he grabbed his book free from his saddlebag and stretched out on the bed. Quickly finding his place, he began to read.

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Trudging up the stairs of the hotel, Curry counted rooms as he walked down the hall. Stopping before room # 3, he turned to survey the other rooms. The odd numbered rooms were all on the left, the side that faced the street. They were the ones above the bank, while the even numbered rooms were all on the right side. They probably didn't have much access to the bank itself, but still, they were above where the money was kept.

Going back to room # 3, he tried the knob. Locked; no surprise there. He tapped on the door and still received no answer. Curry frowned and looked down. A light shone under the door. He fished around in his coat pocket for the key the sheriff had given him earlier and eased the door open. His partner was sprawled out on the bed sound asleep, his book face down across his chest.

Curry closed and locked the door with a quiet sigh of frustration. So much for gettin' a chance to talk things over tonight. He tossed his hat and coat carelessly on a chair and unbuckled his gun belt to hang it from the headboard on his side of the bed.

Heyes began to mumble. Words that sounded suspiciously like floor plan, bank and safe before he turned over and settled back to sleep. Curry grinned. Even in his dreams, Heyes was still busy scheming. He reached across the bed, grabbed the book and set it on the dresser.

Kid undressed, yawning deeply several times in the process and thankful his gun didn't need cleaning tonight. He was'nt sure he could have made it through the ritual, even with his eyes closed! Still standing, he crossed to the lamp and as he trimmed the wick, he glanced back over at his slumbering partner. A slow grin creased his face. Heyes had talked so much today he'd worn that silvery tongue of his plumb out!

The flame flickered and disappeared, leaving the room bathed in darkness. Curry remained by the window, silhouetted by the light the full moon provided. As tired as he was and despite the amount of liquor he had consumed, his brain was too full of unanswered questions to let him relax. Unfortunately, the one person who would be able to answer his questions was asleep, not ten feet away.

Sitting in a chair and resting his head on his crossed arms on the window sill, Curry stared out into the darkness. As 'Wyatt Earp' his part had been pretty easy to play, so far. He stayed with 'the Doc', listened along with the rest of his avid audience as he regaled them with tales of adventure. Heyes would turn to him often and ask his opinion, so he tossed in a word or two here and there, but left most of the talking up to Heyes. Like always, Kid knew he'd back up his partner - no questions asked - even though he did have plenty of questions that needed answering!

Being the persona of Thaddeus Jones had become almost second nature, but he had to admit, if he were honest with himself, it made him more than a bit uneasy for folks to think he was Wyatt Earp. The name wasn't just any random ordinary 'alias' - the man was real! That last reason alone was chock full of complications, not to mention the problems and notoriety that came along with the famous name. Curry cast a troubled scowl towards the bed. Just like those two hotheads they had tangled with today.

As another deep yawn assailed him, Curry decided to call it a night. Easing himself down next to Heyes, he stretched out and closed his eyes; it wasn't long before he, too, was asleep.

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Bright sunlight streaming into the room and, more specifically, directly into his face, convinced Curry to roll over and put his pillow over his head with a loud groan. Hearing chuckling laughter coming from the safety of the other side of the room. "Keep it up, Heyes, an' I'm gonna be advertisin' for a new partner!" he managed to growl before he wrapped the pillow tighter around his head and drifted back to sleep.

When he woke up a short time later, his eyes searched the room, but he found himself alone. He rolled over on his side, threw his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, all of which he immediately - and deeply - regretted. A throbbing headache and roiling stomach served as vivid reminders of the scotch he'd consumed the afternoon before. He closed his eyes and remained perfectly still, willing the room to do the same.

"Heyes, how am I s'posed to watch your back when it keeps walkin' off without me?" Curry groaned. The prospect of having to get out of bed elicited a few uncharitable thoughts towards his errant partner. "The least you could've done was bring me a cup of coffee!" he grumbled.

He rose cautiously to his feet and stumbled blindly to where he thought he remembered the wash basin was located. As his fingers made contact with the feel of cold porcelain, he inched his hand forward and found the water. Splashing his face, he ran his wet hands through his sandy curls and squinted at his reflection in the mirror. Yep, he looked as bad as he felt; maybe worse.

Taking a careful step to his left, he gripped the dresser with both hands to steady himself, then ran his hand across his chin and grimaced. 'Wyatt' was just going to have to be a bit unshaven this morning since he didn't think he'd better try using a razor just yet. Hell, the way I feel, I'm lucky to even be standing!

After some cautious maneuvering, the hungover outlaw managed to get his shirt partially tucked in before attempting to pull his boots on. Ten minutes later he took a deep breath, picked up his hat, gingerly placed it upon his still throbbing head and slowly but steadily exited out of the room. He traveled down the hall and made his way towards the stairwell. Even more careful consideration was given to making his descent from the top of the landing to the bottom of the stairs.

Curry breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that both feet were safe on flat ground once again and he was still in one piece. He wished his stomach shared that feeling. He looked out the door and across the street at the social hall. Good as place as any to start looking for Heyes. And some coffee. Yep, that would be nice; some good, black coffee. That was all he felt ready to tackle in regards to food at the moment.

Now he'd have to navigate on his own from here on out; there wouldn't be any help from the walls or the furniture once he let go of the newel post. Curry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "C'mon, it'll be a piece of cake," he told himself and then groaned at his choice of words; even dessert held no appeal at the moment. Bracing himself, he took a tentative step forward, then another. He lifted his hand from the post and continued in this manner until he had reached the hotel doorway. So far, so good, now all he had to do was make it all the way across the street.

Stepping outside, his nostrils were immediately assailed by the smell of breakfast foods; his stomach began to churn again. With a protective arm across his middle, he managed to make it to the edge of the boardwalk, where he grabbed the railing and held on to it for dear life, all the while hoping fervently that he would be spared from retching.

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Across the street, a few buildings down, Roy tugged on Brody's sleeve. "Well, would ya lookee there," he whispered with child-like glee as he pointed at Curry. "An' he's all alone!"

Brody looked. A calculating smile forming on his face as he eyed the man.

"That's good, ain't it, Brody?" a zealous Roy crowed with delight.

"Oh, it's better than good; take a closer look at our boy."

Curious, Roy crossed behind Brody to get a better look. He stared hard at Curry and slowly a look of satisfaction replaced his puzzled look. He whistled softly. "He ain't wearin' his gun!" he declared.

"Bingo; he just made our job incredibly easy. You know what you're supposed to do, right?"

"Yep, sure do, boss," Roy patted holster, "You can count on me."

"I know; now get goin'."

Roy scurried off. Brody smiled. Satisfied that things were in order, he sauntered across the street to stop a few feet away from Curry.

Eyes closed, Curry was doing his best to remain upright.

Taking a cursory glance around, Brody was gratified to note that the streets were fairly deserted. Most of the good townfolk were probably still eating breakfast. He couldn't have asked for things to go any better than if he'd planned it.

"Hey, you!" Brody called out.

Hearing the familiar challenge in the voice, Curry slowly raised his head a fraction and turned in the direction of the speaker. "You talkin' to me, mister?" Instinctively he reached for his holster and frowned as his fingers searched for, but didn't feel, the familiar feel of his leather usually strapped to his thigh, nor did he encounter the hard, cold steel of his Colt .45. His poker face never gave anything away as Curry silently cursed his memory lapse. "I'm sorry, mister, but I don't know you an' seein' as how I don't have a gun -"

Brody cut him short. "Oh, I'm not the one looking for you; there are a couple of men who want to talk to you. I'll let you explain to them about your gun." Brody turned as he heard the footsteps of the two men came up behind him. "I'll let you two handle the rest of this." He inclined his head in Curry's direction and exchanged a significant look with Miguel and Andy. "Don't mess this up" he hissed before he walked past Curry to disappear inside the hotel.

"Look, I was jus' tellin' that stranger that I don't know - "

"It does not matter what you do or do not know, señor,"Miguel cut Curry's protest short. "We are here to tell you to tell your amigo, Doc Holliday, to stay away from my brother's woman. My brother, he does not much like strangers getting so, shall we say friendly with her, as you two are doing, unless he first gives you permission. In your case, I do not think he will be doing this. You are making him very angry!"

Curry groaned silently. "Look, I think there's been some kinda mistake. I don't know your brother or his woman, an' my friend don't neither!"

"Shut up, ya lyin' snake in the grass!" Andy snarled. "You're jus' as bad as that lily-livered, low down, lyin', no-account coward of a friend you've got! If the Doc don't wanna fight his own fights, then I guess we'll jus' havta settle with you!"

Curry risked another quick glance around. Where were all those smilin' folks who nodded all the time when you needed 'em? An' where was Heyes? Surely someone had to be around somewhere? Hell, I'd even welcome that pesky eye-winkin' sheriff with open arms at this point, he admitted.

"Señor Earp, your time is almost up; do you have any last words?"

"Earp, again! I'm gettin' awfully tired of havin' to settle those men's debts!" Curry muttered and kept his eyes trained on the stranger's face. He had a bad feeling he wasn't going to be able to talk his way out of this anymore than Heyes had been able to yesterday. Without his gun he couldn't very well bluff his way out, either. "We don't have to do this - "

"Oh, but we do, Señor," Miguel cut in.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about -"

"Señor Earp, your time is almost up; do you have any last words?"

"I am not Wyatt Earp! Go shoot him if you have a score to settle!"

"Everyone knows who you are," Miguel insisted, "You and your amigo, Holliday, you have caused us mucho trouble. With you, how do you say, 'out of the picture', our plans will be muy simpatico...much easier."

"Look, mister..." Exasperated and determined to end this once and for all, Curry took a step forward.

Two shots rang out simultaneously.

Clutching a hand to his shoulder, the outlaw staggered backwards, falling against a pile of wooden barrels stacked four high. They teetered precariously for a moment before tumbling to the ground, taking the wounded man along with them. The last thing Curry saw was his blood-stained hands when he put them up to shield himself from one of the barrels and then nothing but blackness...

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