Can't Live With 'em, Can't Live Without 'em: part one

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Can't Live With 'em, Can't Live Without 'em: part one

by Wichita Red

"Heyes, watch out?"

Staying two jumps ahead of a posse tended to strain Hannibal Heyes' nerves. So, when his partner's voice echoed back to him; his first thought was, 'they've found us.' However, when he looked up, what he saw instead made his eyes bulge like a tromped on frog.

Rumbling toward him was an avalanche of dirt and rock, which made his thoughts of the posse pleasurable in comparison.

"Hell-fire" Heyes gulped, jerking his calico mare across the face of the slope. As he did so, a part of him wondered, if praying might genuinely help a man in a situation such as this.

Through the years, Heyes had heard plenty of camp talk of men being buried by rockslides. Sometimes so deep, all that could be done was to place a cross and say a few kind words. Seeing how the boulders plowing by him were getting larger and in their wake, almost humorously, followed by a good-sized collection rocks; Heyes found himself thinking, 'this is not how, I planned on cashing in my chips.'

Truth be told, it rubbed his pride to think this might be the ending written in history books for the great Hannibal Heyes; the most notorious bank and train robber west of the Mississippi. Not that he had put a lot of time into picturing his demise. Yet, he felt positive, it should involve a pretty and sympathetic lady or at least something heroic. Definitely, not being buried beneath a ton of granite and chalk.

Unable to escape, he forced his mare against the tree line. The little calico danced, whickering on the edge of panic. Still, Heyes kept after her, pushing her in as tight as he could. He hoped in doing so, they would be clear of the crashing, crushing river of debris that had caught up to them. As it roared past, he ducked his head, in what he would later have to admit to himself was fear.

A bone-chilling scream over-rode all the noise and Heyes' head popped up. Gravel peppered his face, dust clouding his vision. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears, his pulse rising up in his throat, and a vinegary taste filled his mouth; wringing from him a stream of curse words that could sizzle bacon.

Then the scream repeated itself, the sound of it, enough to make a strong man cringe. Heyes twisted in his saddle trying to see, more curses flowing from him. The moment the flood ebbed, he loosened his grip the mare. She danced, her front hooves rising off the ground and he spun her in tight, mincing circles forcing her to release the nervous energy she had built up. Anxious himself and unable to wait for her to settle, her turned out onto the slope.

Out in the field of rubble, it was plain Kid had never regained control of his mount. The Bay's deep-rutted trail easier to read than a greenhorn trying to hide a sleeve gun. Not wanting to believe his tracking skills, Heyes' dark eyes flitted back and forth; till he knew what he was seeing was true and then beads of sweat began rolling down his pale face. 'If Kid's horse went down wrong side up, where was he during all the action? Hell, Kid could be anywhere under these rocks.'

Heyes scrubbed at his face and knocked his hat from his head; so it hung down his back by the stampede strings. Standing in his stirrups to scan the area, he thought, 'Kid's tougher than a sow's snout, ain't no way he'd lose out to a pile of rocks.' Then, leaning forward, he shouted, "Kid?"

Nothing.

Heyes felt cold even as sweat dripped from his jaw line, "KID!"

Nothing.

No man understands fear, until he has someone else to look after. And, right now, the deafening silence was laying out a cold, hard lesson in fear for Hannibal Heyes. His control crumbling, he screamed, "JEDEDIAH!" His partner's Christian name rang down the slope and out across the valley, even louder than the previous calls.

"Quit your hollering," came a sharp reply, from somewhere below, "I hear you, as does anyone in a mile radius."

At that moment the wind chose to shift, carrying the cloud of dust with it and leaving behind Jedediah "Kid" Curry, the fastest gunslinger in the West, most likely in the world and Heyes' only living relative.

Seeing him, Heyes released a jubilant whoop and a smile that crinkled up his face, lighting up his eyes until they appeared to sparkle. For not more than thirty feet from him stood his cousin, looking very much the part of a defeated warrior. His hat was missing, sheepskin coat torn at the shoulder, holster skid barren, and there was none of him that was not coated with white dust. But, he was standing. Standing and grinning, with the grin of a man who knew he was right, and would be able to live off the justice of being right, for some time.

"Told you that incline was too steep and soft for the horses." Kid said playfully, feeling of the goose-egg rising up on the back of his head; full well knowing, how lucky he was his horse had only nicked him when the animal had flipped end-for-end.

"If you were so sure..." Heyes tipped his head toward the embankment, "...why did you choose to go first?"

Kid licked his lips, placing his hands on his hips, his smile growing larger. "If I'd let you reach that top first and you found need of your pistol...we both know you can't hit the broad side of a barn with a handful of banjos."

"Come on, Kid, I ain't that bad." Heyes whined, as he only allowed himself to do when alone with his cousin.

And, as usual in these situations, Kid just laughed and shook his head.

"You hurt bad?"

"Nope, but we get to ride double for a while." Kid said, gesturing toward his horse limping about the grassy edge of the incline.

The same incline, Heyes knew he would be forced to admit, repeatedly, was too steep. Pulling his bandana from around his neck, Heyes set to wiping off his face. As he did so, he smiled knowing this whole wreck would give Kid loads of ammo to complain about. There was no way he would ever let Kid know. But, he enjoyed listening to his partner's belly-aching. Perhaps because, he had heard it for so long, that it was comforting and he would not know how to get by, without hearing a bit of Kid's cantankerousness each day.

Knowing it was, as the saying went, 'time to face the music', Heyes tied his bandana background his neck and nudged his mare. The calico snorted and lowering her head, she placed her hooves among the jagged rocks deftly choosing a route down. They were almost to the bottom, when Heyes spotted a glint of metal that he knew, would prove to be Kid's pistol.

"Whoa girl, easy," he cooed, and dallying his long-split reins about the saddle horn, he slid off, patting the mare's rump, sending her rest of the way without him; as he went to retrieve his partner's gun.

"Dang it, Bay's going to need weeks of rest before he can be ridden."

Hopping from one boulder to the next, Heyes made his way on down, handing the Peacemaker over with his attention actually focused on Kid's horse. "Easy...easy big boy." Heyes said, jerking off his gloves to run an expert hands down the horse's near hock, only to find what he feared. The animal's cannon bone was hot and swollen. Closing his eyes for a moment, Heyes bit the inside of his lower lip in frustration and then began working the cinch strap knot. 'Damn, this Bay has been a good match for Kid. Yeah, he's kind of ugly and raw-boned but he'll travel miles on just a bait of range grass and a hat full of water.'

Pulling the saddle, Heyes noticed it was missing a stirrup and wondered again, how Kid managed to come out of the wreck unscathed. Dropping the saddle, Heyes used the blanket to rub the gelding down. 'We've been free of that posse less than a day and we've strayed too damn far from the Hole trying to lose 'em. Now, here were are with one horse between us. And, the horse to carry both of us...is my calico. The same horse, Kid's been ridin' me to trade in for a bigger, stronger mount.' Putting his hands on his hips, Heyes eyed his mare. 'He's right. But, I like that little mustang. She's got heart and speed, but she sure as hell ain't built to carry us riding double. Looks to be we'll be taking turns walking.'

Running a hand up the gelding's neck, Heyes pulled off the bridle. 'Bay's been with us for almost two years, long time for one of our mounts.' Lost in thought, he scratched the gelding between its jaw bones, trying to figure out where Kid's next mount might come from. Some part of his mind, registered hearing the click of the Colt's chamber, followed by the familiar sound of it spinning; so when the crack of the .45 firing, echoed across the canyon, Heyes was not taken aback none. He looked over at his cousin who appeared reborn in his warrior image, as he spun the Colt back into its holster. "Did it fare out all right?"

"Nothing a bit of oil wouldn't help."

"Hey Kid, how'd you come down that incline anyways?"

"Right behind him," Kid gestured over at his horse.

One dark eyebrow arched sharply, 'wouldn't behind him, be where his hooves were at?'

"You ever tried to run slow down a hill?"

"Not that I can recollect."

"Well, a set of shod hooves flashing at you, like the backside of a paddle wheel, can sure teach you the knack of it real quick." Kid answered.

"This ain't a skill you plan on perfecting, is it?" Heyes asked, through a laughing smile.

Kid's blue eyes sparkled, but he refused to be teased into smiling. Sure, he felt like smiling. Felt as happy as a man holding a royal flush that he had made it down that hill alive. Hell, made it down alive and without being beaten to a pulp. Still, he was determined to hold onto his anger at Heyes. Because it was Heyes' fault that he had to come down that hill the hard way. Heyes and all his 'Trust me, Kid'. Thinking this over, the blue eyes narrowed, "the next time I say, it's too steep...we go around"

Heyes' smile grew bigger. He knew that would annoy Kid more than anything else he could do. Somewhere back when they were still boys, Heyes had learned to choose his battles against his quick-tempered cousin and this one here, was not worth butting heads over.

ASJ-ASJ-ASJ

Leaning across the back of his mare, Heyes peered through the spyglass, weighing the risks of purchasing a horse from the cattle drive spread out below them. "What do you think, Kid?"

"I think, I'm tired of hauling my own saddlebags and even more, tired of walking."

Heyes knew grumbling was part of Kid's nature. But, after two days of sharing one saddle, Heyes found his patience was dwindling. Chewing on his lower lip, he wondered again, if the men below might have been warned that a pair of outlaws might come looking for a horse.

"Well, Heyes?!"

Heyes' eyes slanted to Kid, 'course, we don't find him a horse, his chances of walking rest of the way back to the Hole by himself are pretty damn good. 'Specially, if I have to hear about that incline or how small my mare is one more time.'

"Heyes we going down there to get me a horse or ain't we?" Kid snarled. Hearing himself, he realized how aggressive he sounded and with a snort, thought, 'Why shouldn't I be? It's his fault I'm tired, hungry, and foot-sore. And, besides that, I don't give a donkey's ass how highly he thinks of that damn small mare of his. He needs to listen to me...for once...and trade that pony in for a real horse.' Pulling off his hat, Kid trailed his fingers along the back of his head, the goose egg was beginning to disappear. "I can't figure out why, he fancies her so much, anyhow?" Gingerly adjusting his hat back on, Kid threw back his shoulders, "Come on Heyes, how hard of a decision is it, to go down and buy me a horse?"

Heyes spun his nostrils flaring, his shoulders raising, but it was the cold, sharp, bark of his voice that hit Kid. "Fine! You want to go down there. You want to risk our chances that the posse hasn't talked to the drive boss? Then let's go!" And, grabbing his mare's reins, Heyes tromped down the hill. But, then he stopped to glare and holler while jabbing a thumb toward his horse. "And, just so you know, she's a light horse, not a runt. Not a pony and not worthless, so let up on her"

Kid stayed put, watching his partner kick dirt clods out of his way while muttering to himself; with his mare nudging him in the back as if she agreed with all he was saying. Finding he was staring open-mouthed, Kid snapped it shut. Then with a shake of his head, ambled on down the hill, thinking, 'wouldn't have thought poking at that runt, would rile 'em up so.'

The walk gave Heyes the time he needed to release some of the steam coming to a boil inside of him and by the time he was within hailing distance of the herd, he was on his second go around of singing 'Simple Gifts'. He also found he felt prepared to take on any surprises that wanted to present themselves. Particularly since, he could hear his cousin's steady, strong strides following right behind him.

Halting and leaning against his mare, Heyes watched the rider angling toward them on the bandy-legged dun. His dark eyes strayed from the man to the herd of longhorns plodding along, 'looks to be at least 1500 of 'em,' he thought. But, more than the herd, he was counting the men, 'pair on point, two riding swing, two working flank, three unlucky souls on drag, most likely a horse wrangler, cook, drive boss and with this outrider...that makes thirteen.' A nervous flutter ran through Heyes' making his voice quaver as he finished the last bar of his song.

"Yeah, I know, thirteen." Kid said, patting Heyes on the shoulder, just as the outrider pulled dun up next to them. "Quit being superstitious."