Author's note: And again thanks to Avoca for proofreading.
Duel
Well, there they stood - in the middle of the main street facing each other down. It would have been a big joke, if it wasn't so serious: Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry - prepared to kill or be killed.
His heart sank; no way out remained. He couldn't even think of one anymore, he had tried everything. One of them was going to die today. Who? The devil might know...
Would he be able to pull the trigger, he asked himself, or might he not even hesitate 'cause his well-trained reflexes would take over?
He knew he would die today - one way or the other...
The evening sun already cast long shadows and gilded the sky, when he noticed a shade shifted slightly behind his opponent - just out of sight for him - and he saw the weapon in his hand.
No further thought was required - he did what he had to do, what he always did – protecting his partner. Pulling and aiming was a single smooth motion.
Three shots sounded.
Two men hit the ground.
-o-o-o-
Deputy Joshua Smith was confused. He knew the odds to outdraw Kid Curry were stacked against him. How was it possible, that his shot went so totally wrong? Was he just not able to live up to his reputation? It was a tragedy that an innocent had to die, but it truly wasn't smart to step up too close to a duel.
Since he was buried by the avalanche some months ago he had no memories of his previous life. The deputy badge stuck on his shirt and a short note addressed to Joshua Smith were found in his pocket. The sound was familiar to him otherwise he wouldn't even know his name. No one knew where he came from. No one knew his destination. So, he stayed in the town called Deceit.
The only other name he remembered, belonged to the man who lay now in the dust at his feet - Kid Curry. He knew he had been searching for him. It was important, so important he couldn't think of anything else. It was the only aim in his life; the one thing to hold on to. Everything would turn out well, if he got him. Why? He couldn't remember; maybe he had lost someone dear to him.
Smith must have been on his tracks for a long time before. It was like he even knew what move he had to expect next. It took some time, but at last it was easy to hunt him down.
Smith first tried to capture him alive, but that notorious bastard was too slick to get his hands on him. Several times when he got close to Curry he tried to talk him into surrendering but without any luck. Smith knew that it was Curry's partner who was known to be the tricky one and he believed in it. But he had to admit Kid Curry was an excellent liar, even when his ideas were outlandish. Smith smiled mirthlessly while he thought back...
-o-o-o-
It was a few weeks ago, when he first met him in a Saloon some miles away. Curry stood at the bar and noticed him the moment he entered the room.
"Heyes! You're alive!" he welcomed him delighted, trying to hug him.
"What do you call me? My name's Smith. Joshua Smith!"
His opposite startled and the bright smile on his face faded.
"What's wrong? Don't you remember me?"
"I remember you damn well! Maybe you'll be the last person I remember all my life!" Smith snapped. "I don't know what you've done, but I'll turn you in now."
"Heyes, you're joking?" Curry replied seriously with an uncertain look in his eyes.
"Do you see something to laugh about in this face?"
"But Heyes ... don't you remember? We had split up. You escorted Slim Huffman to his trial in Kingsburg. His men caused a landslide to get him out!" Curry tried again, "Heyes, you remember our aliases - Smith and Jones!"
"The world is full of men named Smith and Jones. Who would use stupid aliases like those?"
"But Heyes, Lom gave them to us, Lom Trevors, our friend! The time was running out ... you ..."
"Stop complaining and take it like a man! You're lost. Will you come with me or do I have to bring you down?" He noticed the desperate look in Curry's eyes just before his lights went out. Wrong choice, Curry should have shot him then. He didn't understand why he hadn't...
-o-o-o-
It was obvious he had to capture Kid Curry – what else should a lawman do with a notorious outlaw? He was wanted dead or alive – it turned out it had to be the first one.
He strolled to the motionless body on the ground, stopped beside it and lowered his eyes. Wasn't it odd that such an infamous man could look so innocent and … peaceful? One could imagine seeing a slight happy smile on his face. Besides the wound in his chest there were no other visible marks on his body; he looked like he was sleeping … and he still looked so unbelievably familiar to him. Deputy Smith rubbed his eyes. Maybe he had chased him longer than he had guessed, maybe too long.
Joshua Smith would be a wealthy man now, but his heart felt empty...
-o-o-o-
The next days he lived like a sleepwalker. The people in town he met congratulated him, patted his shoulders and he felt - nothing. He didn't now where to go. He didn't know what to do. With Kid Curry's death the only purpose in his life was gone.
Nightmares started to haunt him. Wild confusing pictures and episodes he couldn't understand, revolving around the damned outlaw. Sometimes he thought he would never be able to sleep in peace again.
Anyhow he decided that he owed the man, who had provided him with a care free future, at least a respectable funeral. He talked to the carpenter and the preacher and ordered what seemed necessary to him.
-o-o-o-
He hadn't expected many mourners besides some spectators from the town and so he was astonished how many strangers came to witness the burial. The men were of different age and style and some of the women real beauties. They all were obviously truly grieving and according to their searching looks they seemed to miss someone. Probably they were watching for Curry's former partner, who surely wouldn't dare to show up.
It wasn't Smith's intention to disturb their grief, so he stayed away from the graveyard, watching the ceremony from a distance. After the funeral service the people headed back to town. The train would arrive soon and obviously no one had planned to stay longer than necessary. Only one brunette beauty remained, still staring at the grave.
He took his hat off and moved silently closer. Nevertheless, she noticed him and turned around.
"Oh dear, I knew you would be somewhere around here," she said when she threw herself into his arms. Intuitively he wrapped his arms around her. "I didn't want to believe it, when I heard about it. What happened?"
"Do I know you, ma'am?" he asked hesitantly. She drew back slightly and looked him in the eyes. Her face was damp with tears.
"But … yes … certainly, Heyes... It's me, Clementine - Clementine Hale!" she frowned. "How can you not recognize me? You were like brothers to me, you and Jed."
"My name's Smith, ma'am. Deputy Smith. Maybe you have mistaken me," he replied unsurely.
"Joshua Smith, I know - your alias. But dear, I know you're Hannibal Heyes." Gently she touched his cheek with her hand.
"I … don't know …"
She turned and watched over her shoulder. "Dear, my time's running out. I have to leave." She hesitated.
"But there's one thing … I guess you will need it now more than I do." She opened her bag and took out a photograph.
"It's my last one. I know how hard you tried to get this. It's yours now. Be well, my dear." She kissed his cheek and hurried back towards the town.
He watched her leaving until he couldn't see her anymore; his thoughts were running wild. He should have stopped her! Then he took a closer look at the photograph. It showed three people: her in the middle framed by Kid Curry and … himself.
He was struck by lightning. He knew it! Damn, there was no attempt they hadn't made to get rid of those pictures … he went pale.
He remembered, he remembered everything … and he understood…
His legs failed him and he fell down to his knees besides the grave of his one true friend.
-o-o-o-
In the evening, he was alone in his room accompanied only by a bottle of whiskey. Disastrous thoughts circled through his mind while he drank heavily. He was in a dark mood.
He never had thought he was meant to hurt someone seriously. Although he had always been a free and rebellious spirit, he also had deep respect for life and loved the living.
Even when the pressure became stronger, he always tried his best … but how hard he tried, he couldn't make things change … it only went even worse.
The voices inside his head haunted him - whispering of love, pain, failure and guilt - leaving nothing but despair.
He pulled out his gun, turned it gently in his hands …
... and ended his own life …