"You know, there's a story behind that there saloon.
Twenty years ago, two outlaws took this whole town over,
Sheriff couldn't stop em.
Quickest damn gun slingers I've ever seen."
- Marshall Bruce Mathers III
Six men rode into town; trail-worn, dusty, unshaven, dog tired, and very hungry. They surveyed the town from their horses, saw the usual assortment of stables, stores, saloons, a hotel, couple of restaurants... Sheriff's office; the lawman's name prominently displayed over the door.
"Sheriff Clitterhouse?" Curry said incredulously. "What kinda name is that?"
"I don't know, Kid," Heyes grinned. "But I don't know him and I'm hoping he don't know us either.
"OK," Heyes said, turning to the dusty band of men trailing wearily in behind him. "Let's get these horses to the livery, then we can git to work..."
"How's about a drink first?" Wheat said. "I mean, we been on the trail five days now, we's all about done in."
There was a general murmur of agreement from the others. Heyes slid a glance at his partner. Kid shrugged, nodded.
"They got a point, Heyes. We're all pretty tired and just speakin for myself, I'm about as dry as August in Carson City. I'm real hungry too and so are the boys."
Heyes sighed with impatience. He was just as hungry and thirsty as the rest of them, but with a plan all ready and made and sorted in every detail, he was just burning to start work and get the scheme up and running.
But an unhappy gang was a gang liable to cut loose and refuse to follow orders out of pure orneryness - especially Wheat. If Wheat got mad, he'd start to causin' trouble and might lead some of the others along with him.
"OK," Heyes said. "Y'all go git yerselves somethin' to eat and a beer. But only one, and don't linger over it neither. I'm goin' over t' the District Office, t' file our claim..."
"Don't you want a beer, Heyes?" Kyle asked.
"Sure I wanna beer, Kyle, I just wanna be sure everything's all according to plan first. I'll have my beer when I know you guys are safe and sound and back at that cabin..."
"Now just you hold up a minute there, Heyes," Wheat hissed. "I thought we wuz gonna have us some fun tonight. Like I said, we's all plum tuckered out and I thought..."
"Oh no!" Heyes said. "I know you boys. If I let you stay here in town, you'll get to drinking and a hooraying and trying to impress every bar girl in town till every citizen of Fairplay knows you're the Devil's Hole Gang and I'm not about to let that happen. I spent the whole darn winter working on this plan and you are not gonna ruin it, Wheat. D'you hear me?"
Now anyone who met Hannibal Heyes without getting to know him too well would say he was an easy going, thoroughly amiable fellah. But a man doesn't get to be leader of one of the most successful outlaw gangs in the history of the West without having something put away inside him for a rainy day. And Heyes had a look - his 'ornery as a fried toad' look Kid Curry called it - and when he turned that look on you, you knew you'd better do just what the man said, or face the consequences - and with Heyes, there was no telling what those consequences might be...
Wheat tried to stare-out Heyes, cos he was real mad. He'd looked forward to a night on the town for a long time. But one glance at Heyes' eyes - let alone Curry's - told him all he needed to know.
"Well, I was just thinkin is all..." Wheat said, breaking away from Heyes' gaze.
"Well don't, Wheat. I do the thinking in this outfit, that's why I'm the leader. Now, you kin all go and git yourselves one beer. Kid here'll keep you company to make sure it is only one. Then Wheat an' Kyle can get themselves over to the general store to buy all the provisions on the list. Hank, Lobo; you take the horses to the livery, arrange for fresh animals and the hire of the wagon. Kid, you meet me over at the mining supplies store when you've seen the boys off about their chores. When everything's got that needs to be got, we're all gonna meet up at the livery, then you fellas are gonna ride out of town and make yourselves comfortable up at the cabin. OK?" - Four miserable nods - "Now I don't wanna hear 'bout nobody fightin or givin women the eye or any misbehavin generally. I don't want anybody causin trouble and drawin attention to themselves. Any man that gets himself in jail better not be lookin to the rest of us to come git him out, is that understood?"
A chorus of mutters said that it was.
"OK then, lets get about it."
"This is up by Weston Pass...?"
"That's right," Heyes said, trying to keep the smile on his face and concern off of it. Trying to look confident despite that look of deep perplexity the old man would keep giving him.
"Well what you doin filing a claim up thataways? You're crazy, young fella. Ain't nothing left up there. All worked out these twenty five years."
Heyes took the map from the man and tapped the side of his nose.
"That a fact?" he said with a knowing wink. "That's what folks wanna think, I'm happy to let em," he grinned.
"T'ain't what folks think son, it's what folks know. Ain't nothing left in them hills. Jest tryin to save you a mess of time and trouble s'all."
"Mister...? What's your name sir?"
"Dixon. Loomas Cadwallader Dixon," the man said with visible pride.
"Well, Mr Dixon. I wouldn't be filing a claim, lessn' I knew what I was doing, now would I?"
The man continued to stare at Heyes with puzzled stupefaction. Heyes went on talking with what he hoped was a cocksure and slightly pompous air.
"I been prospecting a good many years Mr Dixon and I know my stuff. You better get the good folks of Fairplay all fired up and ready for a boom town, yes siree. I sure hope you're all ready for a little excitement, cos you're gonna be gettin some and that's no lie.
"Now, you gonna file my claim, or not?"
The man shrugged. Darn fool of a boy wanted to waste good time and money mining a strip of rock and stream every man woman and babe in arms knew held nothing but hard and useless granite, that was his affair. With a crack of his knuckles and an imperious flourish, Dixon stamped the paper, fixed the seal and asked the young booby to sign on the dotted line.
Heyes nodded with satisfaction as he finished checking over the contents of the wagon against his list and gave Hank and Kyle the nod to fasten down the canvas.
"Good work boys," he said, genuinely pleased with them. They'd each had their one beer and done it without getting into any trouble and that was pretty good going for them.
"And since you done so well..." Heyes took a bottle of whiskey out of his pocket and tucked it into the wagon with the other supplies "...figure you deserve a little something to make your time up there go a little faster."
Heyes held up a hand to still the chorus of pleasure -
"One bottle now, another tomorrow if you don't get drunk and git on with your job."
"Don't you worry 'bout a thing Heyes," Hank said. "We won't let you down."
"You got a problem, Wheat?" Kid asked, noting the belligerent look on the man's face.
"No man tells Wheat Carlson when he can and can't drink, not even you, Heyes."
"That a fact, Wheat?" Kid asked, a cloud passing over his expression.
"If I want me some whiskey, I git ma own bottle." Wheat lifted the necks of two bottles of cheap liquor he'd bought in the saloon out of his saddlebags.
The rest of the gang held it's breath. A showdown between Heyes and Wheat had been building ever since Heyes came up with this plan and Wheat realised he was going to be on the hard working rather than the glory end of it.
"Now look here, Wheat," Heyes started. "We discussed all this back at the Hole. There weren't gonna be no hard drinkin cause it ain't safe fer men in charge of so much dynamite to be gettin themselves all liquored up..."
"Heyes is right, Wheat," Lobo said. "It's just three days and..."
"I ain't spending three days in the middle of nowhere blowing holes in rocks without a little sustenance to see me through the day."
"Wheat!" Curry said in a tone that few men would argue with. "Gimme them bottles."
"Everything alright fellas...?"
They all turned at the sound of the strange voice.
"...I heard you boys was in town. Doin a little prospecting up at Weston Pass right?"
"That's right, Sheriff... Clitterhouse, is it?" Heyes smiled, holding out a hand
The sheriff nodded. A large man, tall and big boned, muscular once but running to fat now - lazy, Heyes summed him up in a heartbeat. Larcenous too.
The man shook Heyes hand, nodded to the rest of the Gang.
"Well, we're mighty pleased to make your acquaintance ain't we boys?" Heyes said, smiling his brightest. The boys did their best but couldn't seem to help looking shifty and real guilty.
Clitterhouse nodded, chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. "I thought I heard raised voices?"
"Us? Oh, no, no, sheriff, just giving the boys here some last minute instructions..." Heyes said to a chorus of agreement from the gang.
"Only, I hear what sounds like a disagreement from strangers in town, heavily armed strangers..." Clitterhouse gave the Gang's six-guns the once over.
"They're just heading out to the cabin with the supplies here," Heyes said giving Clitterhouse his best smile as the sheriff lifted the canvas and took a look at the contents of the wagon.
"Me and my partner, Mr Wilmott," Heyes pointed to Curry who - under the guise of touching his hat in greeting, contrived to cover most of his face -
"...we're staying in town tonight, got us a few last minute things to clear up, then we'll be off to join the boys at the cabin..."
"And your name would be...?" Clitterhouse asked Heyes.
"Johnson. Luke Johnson."
"You staying at the Silver Dollar?"
"Uh huh. Maybe we could buy you a drink, Sheriff. Get aquatinted..?" Heyes beamed, ignoring Kid's barbed glances.
"Sounds good," Clitterhouse said, unsmiling. "I'll see you boys there." And walked away down the muddy street.
As one, the gang let out a sigh, peppered with whoops, gasps, exclamations and profanities of all kinds. Wheat dropped down against the livery door, Kid glared red hot daggers at Heyes -
"Buy you a drink, sheriff? Git aquatinted sheriff...?"
"Hey, seems the best way I can see of throwing off any questionable thoughts he might be harbouring." Heyes said
"Did y' see the look on his face?" Kyle said.
"He sure looked mighty suspicious to me," Lobo agreed.
"Boys! Be reasonable," Heyes said. " We've staked us a claim. We got a wagon load of vittals and picks and dynamite. What possible reason could he have for being suspicious of us?"
The gang stood and stared at him.
"What?"
Curry shook his head. "There's something about this town I don't like, Heyes. A tension, something in the air I can't put my finger on. But I reckon that sheriff's got a lot to do with it."
"Kid!" Heyes smiled. "You're just imagining things. That sheriff sneakin up on us spooked ya, is all."
Kid sighed, turned to the Gang. "Boys," he said. "Load up and git outta here. Whatever problems we got here, Heyes an' me kin deal with 'em a whole lot better on our own. Wheat," Kid grabbed the man by the arm as he moved to his horse. "Give me them bottles." Curry gave the man his most uncompromising glare. "You heard what Heyes said, now hand em over."
"Well, I was just on my way to get 'em Kid," Wheat said, handing Heyes the whiskey with a crocodile smile.
The town clock chimed eight o clock.
Heyes and Kid had finished surveying the bank before it closed at six - Heyes had seen all he needed of the safe he was to crack and the best way in and out of the bank. Kid had looked the town over. He knew the best places to position the gang to be sure he and Heyes were not surprised while they did the job. He'd plotted the quickest way out of town and into the rocks where it'd be hard to track them, knew how long it would take for a posse to get underway, knew the danger points where they might be surprised, made sure their escape route would avoid those places. Having done all this, they'd booked themselves a room above the saloon where they'd bathed, shaved, donned clean clothes and headed down to the bar for a slice of pie and a much needed beer.
Which was what they were doing when the Sheriff walked into the saloon, saw them, nodded an acknowledgement, clicked his fingers at the barman and sat himself down at a table near the door. The barman sent one of the girls over to his table with a bottle of best whiskey.
"You know Clitterhouse?" the Barman asked them.
"Not really," Heyes said. "We talked some this afternoon."
"He's only been sheriff a week, but he sure likes pushing his weight around," the barman said with loathing.
"How come?" Kid asked.
"Got the town bigwigs in his pocket on account of foiling a bank robbery last week..."
"Robbery?" Heyes said.
"Bank robbery?" Kid asked.
"He was the deputy. It were him as caught the two what done the robbery and shot and killed Sheriff Parker to boot. Got em over in the jailhouse now with that young thug of a deputy guardin em. Can't afford no accidents, if'n you know what I mean..?" The barman mimed a touch of neck stretching. "Old John Parker was real popular with the townsfolk. Curt don't want no lynchings to spoil his big show, no siree. Got Judge Jeremiah Hamilton himself coming in from Denver next week for the trial. Should be short and sweet. Ain't no doubt that the two of em's guilty, but old Curt there wants to make a real circus of it. Invited all the big Denver papers down for the show. He got ambition, has Curt.
"And I think he wants to have words with the two orn yers."
The two outlaws turned to see the sheriff gesturing them over to his table. Nervously, they downed the last of their beer and went over to meet the man.
"Well now boys, why don't you siddown, make yourselves comfortable, have a glass of whiskey with me," the sheriff said pouring out two big glassfulls with a sweeping gesture. A bellyful of liquor had softened the man. He was all bonhomie and proprietarial pride.
"Well, thank you, Sheriff Clitterhouse," Heyes said with a smile, holding up his glass in a toast. "I see you've got your own deck with you? What's the matter? Don't trust the house?" Heyes gave him a wink and a smile.
Clitterhouse smiled too - a nasty, sneaking smile that never reached his eyes.
"No, t'ain't that. Lets just say, I'm a superstitious man. I kinda think of these as my lucky cards."
Heyes smiled. "Is that an invitation to a little poker?"
"You play?"
"Well, whist's my game, but I don't mind a little Poker now and again."
Kid gave Heyes a wary glance, Heyes smiled back at his partner. A look passed between them.
"Well," Kid said, downing his glass and getting to his feet, "I'll be gettin on off to bed ifn' you don't mind...?"
"Not staying for the game Mr... Wilmott, was it?" Clitterhouse asked.
Kid shook his head.
"He's real tired Sheriff," Heyes said. "Been on his horse since sunup and tell the truth, poker really ain't his game. More of a Snap and Happy Families kinda guy," Heyes said, keeping his eyes on Clitterhouse, ignoring the barbed looks of fury Kid was flashing his way. "Yeah, he needs his rest almost as bad as he needs his vittals," Heyes said with a sorry shake of his head.
"G'night Dan," Heyes said, turning to meet Kid's eye with a grin. "See yer bright an early in the morning?"
Kid touched his hat, nodded to Clitterhouse.
"G'night t' you all," he said, with a glance at Heyes that said all it needed to, and headed off upstairs.
"Well now, Sheriff, two ain't no good for a fair game of poker," Heyes said, glancing around the room. "Know anyone else who'd wanna play? I'm sure we can find at least a couple of guys who'd like to play poker with the sheriff...?"
The town clock chimed out three am.
Wearily, Heyes climbed the stairs and unlocked the door to the room - the door jammed, wouldn't open. With a sigh, Heyes gave three sharp raps on the door. And again. And again. There was the sound of a chair scraping back on the wooden floor before the door was snatched open by a weary, half-sleeping and very angry Curry.
"Why'd you wedge the door?" Heyes asked, coming into the room, nervous of Kid's bad temper. "You knew I'd be coming up..."
"Waited till gone midnight then figured you were gonna make a night of it. I wasn't about to go to sleep in a room that wasn't secure," Kid snapped as he climbed back into bed.
Heyes lit a lantern, but turned the flame down low as he re-locked the door and stuck the chair back under the handle.
"Look, I'm sorry," Heyes said, "but you know the man's suspicious of us. I had to go butter him up, make friends with the fella..."
"How much did that cost?" Kid asked, lying back on the pillows, head resting on his folded arms.
"Heyes checked the money in his pocket. "'Bout... " He counted, "seventy... eighty dollars."
"That all?"
"Cheap at twice the price Kid. The man thinks he took me at poker..."
"Easy to do when you've got a marked deck."
Heyes chuckled. "Uh huh. Who'da thought it? The sheriff too?" He shook his head in mock amazement. "Wouldn't've made any difference if I hadn'ta wanted it to. I mean, I can see the marks too," he grinned. "I couldn't be sure how it was going to go though, not knowing the clientele and all. Thought, if any of the others at the table realised what was going on, there might be some trouble..."
"Well I figured that was why you wanted me out of the way."
Heyes shrugged with a smile. "Hey, if things turned sour, I didn't want you tempted to show that gun hand of yours to the sheriff."
"Don't you trust me Heyes?"
"I don't trust you to keep your gun in it's holster if someone decided to pick a fight with me, no," he smiled. "As it was, there wasn't any trouble. Either I was the only one who spotted that marked deck, or the others were too scared to say anything."
"Old Clitterhouse does seem to inspire fear and loathing in the townsfolk don't he, Heyes? Wonder why that is?"
"Well, we ain't got no more problems with him anyhow. Shared a drink or two, he got to talkin... Hell, we're best buddies now! Ain't nothing that guy wouldn't let me do in his town."
"How 'bout rob his bank of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"
Heyes grinned. "Well, I don't think he likes me that much. You know, when he got about halfway through that bottle, he started to talking. Told me an awful lot of stuff. Might come in handy..."
"Like...?"
"Like he's got Josh and Abel Hollis locked up in his jail."
"Josh and Abel robbed the bank?"
"Tried to Kid, tried. Didn't make it. Shot Sheriff Parker too..."
"Uh uh!" Kid shook his head emphatically. "Don't believe it. Not them two."
Heyes shrugged. "I don't know Kid. It's gotta be three, four years since we knew 'em. They was just boys back then. Men change."
"Not that much. Killer's a killer, Heyes and them two just ain't."
"You're probably right," Heyes sighed, checking his gun before putting it back in the holster and hanging the belt at the top of the bed. "But they sure did try and rob that bank, and someone shot the sheriff."
Kid nodded. "So you gonna sleep at all tonight, Heyes? Or you gonna stand there jawin' till dawn?"
Heyes yawned. "You're right. Long day ahead of us tomorrow. I wonder how Wheat and the boys are getting along up at that cabin?"
"Wheat, Heyes is gonna be real mad at yer when he finds you've brought whiskey on the job," Kyle said, dealing out another card.
"Kid too," Lobo said. "Specially after he thinks he took it all off of yer."
"The day I's scared of Hannibal Heyes or Kid Curry is the day I quit outlawin' fer good," Wheat drawled, taking another swig at the bottle. "Nineteen!" he said triumphantly, tossing down his cards with a grin.
"Twen'y One," Lobo said, spreading his hand and scraping the matchsticks into his hat.
"Twenty One?" Wheat roared. "How'd you git so lucky, Lobo?"
"Well I don't know, Wheat. I guess not havin' drunk an entire bottle of whiskey might have somethin t'do with it."
Kyle began sniggering, but stopped when he saw Wheat glaring at him.
Lobo counted up the matchsticks and smiled. "You figure goin on at this rate fer the next three days, Wheat? Figure I'll jest about have your entire share of the haul by then."
Kyle, Hank and Lobo began guffawing. Wheat glared at them - but it didn't stop them laughing. He grabbed his hat and his bottle of whiskey and stormed out of the cabin.
Six thirty am. Heyes pulled on his pants, risked a glance at Kid who was real tired and kinda sore at having been woken so early after the night he'd had.
"Ain't much t'ask Heyes," Kid said testily, as he pulled on his boots. "We been in the saddle five whole days. One good night in a real bed was all I wanted..."
"I told you I couldn'ta got away any earlier. The man thought he was on a roll, it was all I could do to break off when I did..."
"And what we gonna do 'bout Josh an' Abel?" Kid asked.
"Don't see what we can do, short of breakin them out and that's kinda gonna interfere with the job in hand."
"Can't let him hang em, Heyes. You know as well as I do them boys never shot no sheriff! If you ask me, it was Clitterhouse that done it. That's one mean son of a gun."
Heyes nodded. "I wouldn't put it past him. Guy gets to be sheriff and a hero to boot. Big trial and a hanging to follow, sure will put the town of Fairplay on the map."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know," Heyes said, snapping open his gun and checking it. "I need to think on it some. Now, we havin breakfast first, or a shave?"
Even at this early hour, the restaurant was busy and noisy with a dozen conflicting conversations as they took their seats at the only empty table, still littered with dirty breakfast plates and cups.
"Lot of folks in town for the hanging," Heyes said, giving the pretty waitress his best smile as she cleared their table. He winked at her. She gave him an irate, harassed look in return.
"You reckon they're really gonna hang em Heyes?" Kid asked, trying not to smile too much at his friend's failure to charm the lady.
"If they find em guilty, and I'm pretty sure they will..." Heyes shrugged. "Don't see what's to stop em."
The meal arrived and Kid laid into his ham and eggs like a hungry wolf. Heyes stuck with his coffee, staring out the window.
"Ain't you gonna eat that?" Kid gestured with his knife, seeing Heyes had hardly touched his breakfast.
Heyes nodded absently and picked up his fork; used it to stir his eggs. "I'm just thinking is all."
"Well I wish you'd get on and eat. It's driving me crazy seeing you let good food go cold that way."
Heyes grinned and began eating and realised just how hungry he was. Inside two minutes, his plate was as clean as Curry's.
"You know, we need to find out what really happened in the bank that day," he said. "Can't expect to find the truth of the matter from Clitterhouse or the townsfolks."
"Well then, lets get over there and ask Josh an' Abel," Kid said, draining his coffee.
"Go over there? To the sheriff's office?"
"Hey, you said it yourself," Kid smiled with a shrug. "Ain't nothing Clitterhouse won't let you do in his town. You lookin a little pale Heyes. Them eggs on the turn?"
"You're mighty cool about the idea. Since when did you start breezin into the sheriff's, asking to visit prisoners? Prisoners who know us, I might add."
"Josh and Abel ain't stupid. They're hardly gonna yell out our real names now, are they? They're gonna figure we come to get 'em out."
"And what if we can't? What do we tell em then? You expect them to stay quiet while we rob the same bank they got caught in and then calmly let themselves get hanged while we watch?"
"Well they ain't gonna get hanged, Heyes cos we're gonna break em out. Even if it means cancelling the job."
Heyes gave his friend a sharp look. This robbery was very dear to his heart. Ever since he'd heard that the Wyoming Cattlemen's Association, afraid of trouble in this time of depression, were secretly transferring funds out of Cheyenne and down to a small Colorado town called Fairplay.
He'd spent three months working on the details, studying maps geographical and geological. He'd read all the mining surveys. It was a perfect plan. He didn't want to have to throw it all away. But Kid had that look in his eye, and he was right too. They couldn't let em hang the Holis boys for something they surely didn't do.
Heyes nodded. "OK," he said, throwing down his napkin. "Let's go get it over with."
"Mornin'" Heyes smiled, looking around the room. "Sheriff Clitterhouse here?"
The sullen blonde youth sitting with his feet on the desk looked Heyes and the Kid over with contempt.
"Who wants to know?" he asked.
"Name's Luke Johnson," Heyes held out his hand. The boy ignored it. "I'm a friend of the Sheriff's."
"He ain't here."
"Well I can see that," Heyes smiled. "Any idea when he will be?"
The youth sighed. "He had kind of a late night, playin' poker with some guy..."
"That'd be me," Heyes said.
"Uh huh," the boy said, unimpressed. "Well, I don't figure on seein him this side of noon. Whad'ya want with him? Only, I'm the deputy," he said proudly, fingering the badge on his vest. "Anything you wanna say t' the sheriff, you kin say t'me."
"Well, it's about them prisoners of yours..."
"Th' two drunks? Or th' two murderers?"
"Ah," Heyes smiled. "The murderers, I guess..."
"Ifn' they are murderers," Kid said.
Heyes turned a warning look on his partner, shaking his head ever so slightly.
"Whaddaya mean?" the deputy said. "Them two robbed the bank and killed old Sheriff Parker in cold blood. Ain't a man in town don't know it. That's why I'm in charge here," he said, visibly swelling with conceit. "Stop anyone lynchin them boys 'fore the judge kin git here to hang em legal like."
"That a fact?" Heyes said, the smile going out of his eyes. "Well there, deputy... sorry son, I don't know your name."
"Mathers. Bruce Mathers the third. And I int yer son, Mister."
Heyes nodded, turned to Kid and with an ironic raise of his eyebrows. "Well Deputy Mathers," he said, turning his smile back on the boy-lawman. "We'd really like to see them two bank robbers."
"Why? Whaddaya want with em?"
For a moment, Heyes battled for a explanation that would impress the surly kid. He glanced at the desk, saw what he'd been reading and inspiration came to him in a flash of pure genius.
"Well, I guess there's no harm in telling Mr Mathers here, hey Wilmott? Deputy, Mr Wilmott's an author working for Beadle and Adams, publishers of the half dime library."
Mathers leapt to his feet and stood staring at the Kid, his mouth open in wonder.
"You? You writes the dime novels?"
Curry was kinda shocked and surprised at suddenly finding himself credited with the authorship of such lurid fictions, but he overcame it quickly and adopted a look of benign modesty.
"Which? Which ones? Cos I got a whole lot of em. You know, I don't recall a Mr Wilmott..."
"Oh Mr Wilmott never uses his real name, deputy," Heyes said quickly. "He has a number of nom de plumes..."
"Nom, what?"
"Aliases, Mr Mathers. All the best writers use any number of false names. You'll find stories by Mr Wilmott here under the names Harry St. George, Joe Badger, Captain Mark Wilton..."
"Captain Wilton! By golly!" The deputy slammed his hand down on the desk with tremendous emphasis. "Why, Mr Wilmott, I got one o' your stories right here!" He grabbed up the cheap magazine, the pages dark and worn with repeated reading.
"Oh! Yes indeed!" Heyes grinned, taking up the battered publication. "The Red Lasso. One of your Texas Ranger tales, Mr Wilmott!"
Kid continued to smile and nod modestly, afraid to open his mouth for fear of saying the wrong thing.
"Well, you see, Mr Wilmott would dearly like to write the story of what happened here in Fairplay last week ..."
"He's a gonna write about our little town in one o' his stories?"
"Indeed he is. But, he needs to hear the tale from everyone concerned..."
"Well, I kin tell you anything you need to know on that matter," the boy said, hitching up his britches in self-importance. "Cos I wuz there, yes sir! Helpin Sheriff Clitterhouse, Deputy Clitterhouse as he was then. Yes sir! I done my part, I ain't ashamed of nothin I did neither."
"Well, that's very interesting!" Heyes said, beaming. "You hear that Mr Wilmott? Young Mr Mathers was there that night. Well, you're going to have to tell the celebrated writer here all about that so's he can include you in his story."
"Me? In a story book?" The deputy slumped down in his chair, barely able to take in this momentous information.
"Well, of course!" Heyes said. "But first, he needs to hear the tale from those two rascals you've got locked away in there. In private, if possible? He needs all sides, you understand?"
"I surely do," Mathers said, still reeling from the news of his impending fame in the pages of a dime novel.
The young deputy unlocked the desk and took out the keys.
"You just follow me gents, though, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask for yer hardware. Sorry 'bout that, gentlemen, but it's the rules."
Heyes smiled and nodded, handing over his own gun and belt, gesturing for Kid to do the same.
Mathers watched as Kid unfastened his gunbelt, taking Heyes aside and whispering - "Does Mr Wilmott always wear his gun tied down that way? Looks more like a gunfighter than a writer."
Heyes nodded. "It's on account of the number of enemies he's made," he whispered in the young man's ear. "See, he's written so many stories telling the plain and honest truth about such a deal of outlaws and corrupt, dishonest men of all kinds, he just wouldn't be safe from their vengeful hearts if'n he didn't wear a gun, and know how to use it too."
Mathers nodded, regarding the distinguished penman with even greater awe than before.
"Well then, fellas, sirs. I'll let you through now, but I can't let you stay more'n ten minutes. Sheriff's rules, you understand."
"Absolutely Mr Mathers," Heyes said. "Appreciate your diligence and devotion to duty."
"Well thank you Mr Johnson sir," Mathers beamed in pure pleasure. "And you kin call me Slim. All m'friends call me Slim."
"Well thank you, Slim," Heyes grinned. Kid just tipped his hat to the young man as he and Heyes walked through into the dark and clammy jailhouse. The sound of the jailhouse door clanging shut behind them, the key turning in the lock made them both shiver - that and the cold cells with their sweaty, mossy walls and graveside smell.
"Hey there, fellas," Heyes said, to the huddled figures lying on filthy mattresses, wrapped in blankets against the damp chill pervading the room.
Josh and Abel Hollis lifted their heads from their miserable stupor, and, seeing the visitors, came instantly to life.
Abel opened his mouth to yell - Heyes held up a panicked hand, Kid held a finger to his lips, they both gestured to the drunks sleeping it off in the cell opposite. Josh and Abel nodded in unison - the two twins so alike, they were more like a single person split in two.
"I'm Luke, he's Dan," Heyes whispered to them through the bars. "So, how's it goin boys?" he asked.
Josh snickered. "Well how does it look like it's goin' Hey... Luke?"
"They say you robbed the bank and killed the sheriff, that true?" Kid asked them.
The two boys glanced guiltily at each other. "We did try to rob the bank," Josh said.
"It's true, we done it," said Abel. "But we didn't shoot that sheriff."
"Figured you didn't," Kid said.
"So who did?" Heyes asked.
"Well, we don't rightly know," Josh said. "I mean, we mighta done it, by accident like, cos there was a deal of lead flyin' that day..."
"Aw, you know we didn't," Abel rebuked him. "I seen him. That man was shot plum through the heart. Weren't no bullet in him, went right through. Left a hole as big as a hog's head. Ain't no ricochet coulda done that!"
Josh nodded. "We don't know who done it. Th' only other ones there sides us and Sheriff Parker, was a coupla bank clerks, that big deputy of his and that blonde Kid who's deputy now."
"The one whose daddy owns half the town," Abel nodded.
"Owns half the town...?" Heyes asked.
"Mathers. His pa owns the bank, the saloon, the livery..."
"So why's a rich kid like him workin as a deputy?" Kid asked.
"Boy reads a lot of dime novels. Fancies he wants to be a lawman," Josh smiled at his brother.
"You here to help us boys?" Abel asked. "You know they're figuring to hang us soon as that judge gets here."
Heyes nodded. "When's he comin'?" He asked.
"Day after tomorrow," Josh said.
"You gonna bust us out Heyes?" Abel whispered, hope starting to dawn on his tired face. "Is that why you came all the way down here? To help us out?"
Kid looked at Heyes. Heyes looked back at the twins. They looked so young, helpless and hopeful.
"We're gonna do our best boys," he said with a sigh.
"Day after tomorrow don't give us much time Heyes," Kid said quietly.
Heyes shook his head, a tense, worried look on his face.
"You come down here after that cattlemen's money, didn't you Heyes?" Josh said softly, with a smile.
Heyes glanced at him in shock - and nodded.
Josh grinned. "Don't look so surprised, Heyes. What, you think you're the only one who knows 'bout that?"
"Well if you're planning on trying for it, you oughta know, it ain't in that safe," Abel said. "We know cos we got the safe open."
"Blew it?" Heyes asked, professional curiosity getting the better of him.
Josh shook his head. "Got one of them clerks to help us out. We find a gun to the head's a good persuader when you want something from folks. But there weren't nothing but regular depositors money in there, all twenties and tens."
"The moneys in the strongroom out back," Abel said. "Big stone room, walls about two feet thick. Big old lock on a big iron door," he shook his head.
"You ain't the first to try for that money, Heyes," Josh said, seeing Heyes biting his lip in consternation. "There's been two other outfits afore us."
"And they're all in the graveyard now," Abel said. "Every last one of em."
"S'where you'll be too if you make a try for it Heyes."
"An' it's where we'll be come sat'dy, if you don't bust us out."
Heyes and the Kid bickered quietly to each other as they headed down the main street and back to the hotel. The sun was hot today, baking hard the ruts of the muddy road, making it hard to talk - a man needed all his concentration just to stay upright when he was walking. So Kid grabbed Heyes by the arm and pulled him into a quiet alley, the better to reason with him...
"Heyes you gotta call it off! You can't bust into a strongroom like that."
"Well I don't know till I've taken a look at it Kid..."
"Heyes there ain't time to look at it! You heard Josh and Abel, that judge is arriving Saturday morning. If I know the kind of courtroom they run in a place like this, Josh and Abel'll be hanging from a tree by Saturday afternoon if we don't get them out of there."
"Kid, it's still only Thursday," Heyes said with a weak smile.
Curry flashed him a terrible look. "Heyes, you always say the key to successful outlawin's the same as winning at poker. Know when to throw in a losing hand and quit while you're ahead."
"We already spent over five hundred dollars on dynamite, supplies and buyin that claim. How in hell are we ahead?"
"We're not in jail and we're still alive. I say we go up to that cabin right now, round up the boys and bust out the Hollis twins tonight. Then we high tail it back to Devil's Hole while we still got our hides on us."
"And just leave that money sitting there?"
"Will you listen to yourself? You heard what them boys said, now just leave it..."
Heyes nudged him hard, nodded to someone behind them. Kid turned to see Sheriff Clitterhouse; untidy, unshaven and very much the worse for wear, walking purposefully towards them.
Heyes' face exploded in a cheerful grin. "Howdy Sheriff," he said, tipping his hat back on his head. "How you doin'? Beautiful day ain't it?"
Curt didn't look happy. 'Fact, he looked downright mad as he strode up to them yelling; "what you doin' fillin my deputy's head with tales about him bein the hero in some dime novel?"
Curry's face slipped, but Heyes went on smiling and said - without missing a beat...
"Well, that's the truth of it Sheriff. You too, of course. I believe you were also one of the heroes of the Bank of Fairplay t'other night..."
"You told me you was prospectors. Now is that what you are? Or are you a pair of cheap scribblers, cos either way you've lied to me at least once and I like to know who it is I'm dealin with."
Heyes swallowed, but kept on smiling. "Well, it's all the truth Sheriff. I am a prospector. It's my cousin Dan here who writes for the Beadle and Adams Company. He heard I was doin a little mining and he wanted to pick up some colour for a story he's working on..."
Kid nodded, smiling happily. Confident now that his friend would talk them out of trouble as only he could.
"...Course, when he heard about that there robbery you so bravely foiled right here in Fairplay..." Heyes grinned, slapped his hand on Kid's shoulder. "Well, there was no stopping him. He just had to come get all the details..."
"Well I don't like it and I don't want you or your cousin nosin around my office talkin to my prisoners or turnin the head of my deputy with your tall tales. And as for you..." he turned his attention on the Kid, prodding him in the shoulder with a fat finger.
"I don't hold with your type of stories, Mister. I don't hold with the way you glorify outlaws and make heroes out of common thieves and murderers..."
"Sheriff! You've got it all wrong," Heyes said, still smiling. "My cousin Dan here's the author of stirring tales of the Texas Rangers..."
"Texas Rangers?" Clitterhouse spat on the ground.
"Well, we..." Heyes began
"No, I've heard enough," Clitterhouse interrupted. "I thought I liked you Luke Johnson. I thought you was a good man to have around but I see now I was wrong and I want you and yer partner here out of my town before sundown.
"And Wilmott, if I catch you down that jailhouse again, you'll be sure of some authentic experiences for your cheap and lying stories cos you'll find yourself lookin out from behind them same bars on a charge of perverting the course of justice by giving aid and succour to a pair of thieving, murdering hound dogs. Do I make myself crystal clear gentlemen?"
"Well," Heyes swallowed. "We was heading on out to our claim tonight anyhow, Sheriff. Lots of work to be a doin'..."
"Well that's the first sensible thing I've heard you say to me Johnson. I want the pair orn yers to clear on outta here and don't be in too much of a hurry to come back neither."
"Phew!" Kid let out as soon as Clitterhouse was out of earshot. "What the hell is his problem? I thought you said you sweetened him, lettin him win at poker last night? If that's what he's like when he's sweet, I'd sure would hate to see him sour."
"Over-reacted some didn't he?" Heyes said thoughtfully as they watched the man disappear down the street and into his office.
"I take it you think there's more to it than a bad hangover?"
"I think he's real scared."
"Of what we'll turn up if we start round town asking questions?" Kid asked. "You think he shot the sheriff? Tried to pin it on the Hollis boys?"
"I don't know," Heyes said. "I do know he's guilty as sin of something. Trouble is, how'd we find out what that something is?"
"Well I don't know, Heyes. Gonna be kinda tricky finding out too, since we gotta git outta town inside two hours."
Heyes nodded thoughtfully.
"C'mon," Kid said. "We gotta go pack our bags."
"You go pack the bags. There's one last thing I gotta do before we leave."
"Heyes..."
"S'Ok! Don't worry. I just wanna check something out. You go get our things and I'll meet you at the livery in an hour."
"...So you want to take a look at our strongroom, Mr Johnson?"
Heyes smiled and nodded. He hadn't changed his clothes, he thought about it - bankers tended to respect a man in a suit - but figured most working gold miners didn't look too respectable. The couple of bags of dust he'd brought with him - to verify his claim to be a bone fide prospector with a claim worth the name - seemed to do the trick. Bruce Mathers the Second was a Rocky Mountain banker after all. For all his slick ways and eastern clothes, he was well aware the west was full of over-night millionaires who didn't trust banks. The man was falling over himself to let Heyes into the strongroom, show him just how secure his bank was.
The strong room was way smaller than Heyes'd imagined; about six foot by ten. But secure, very secure - in it's way.
Heyes' eyes flickered over the room. In two minutes, he'd seen all he needed to. Mathers blathered on about the thickness of the walls, the blast proof door. Like any of that mattered? Only thing he needed to see was the lock, and Heyes had that figured in about two minutes. The whole precious room was nothing but a giant walk-in safe with a commonplace combination lock on that fancy iron door. If he could get himself into the bank, all he'd need would be twenty, thirty minutes most, he reckoned, to get past the lock. Then the money - that had to be in that big old Brooker safe there in the corner. A cinch. An hour tops, he thought, to do the whole thing.
"... so as you see, Mr Johnson. Your gold just couldn't be safer than right here in our purpose designed strongroom. Why, some of the richest, most powerful men in the West have brought their money to our bank simply because of this magnificent facility."
"That a fact?" Heyes grinned. "Well, thank you kindly Mr Mathers sir," he said, holding out his hand for yet another firm handshake. "I sure am glad you ain't too stuck up to pander to the suspicious whims of a man like me..."
"Stuck up Mr Johnson? Oh goodness me no!" the man crooned. "Only too glad to do business with you!"
"Appreciated sir. Much appreciated. Well, I'll be off back to m'claim, tell m'partner what I've seen and I surely think we kin do business with this bank o' yourn." Heyes gave him his brightest smile, a wink, another shoulder jolting handshake and strode off grinning - out into the bright sunshine, headed for the livery.
The sun was low in the sky by the time they rounded the corner of the trail to see their little log cabin, nestling under the pines. They pushed the horses on, to where the boys would be at work in the tunnel.
"We better call out, let em know we're here," Heyes said to Kid. "In case they're about to start blasting.
"Hey!" Heyes yelled. "S'us..."
Not a sound.
"Maybe they're working down there?" Kid said.
Heyes nodded. They dismounted and approached gingerly - still nervous in case the boys were about to let off some dynamite.
"Hey! Boys!" Kid yelled.
"Where are they...?" Heyes began asking, when he heard the sound of raised voices coming from the half-derelict building.
"I told you twenty five!"
"...An I told you, you ain't got twenty five left to raise with, Wheat!"
"Wheat, Hank...!" Heyes snapped in his best leader-of-the-gang voice. "What's going on here? Whadda you boys all doin' sittin round playin poker? Who's workin on the tunnel?"
The four men leapt to their feet looking very guilty as Heyes and the Kid walked in through the door. Each one looked to the other to explain.
"Well, I'm waitin,'" Heyes said, watching as Kid strolled over to pick up three empty whisky bottles. He held them up for Heyes to see.
Heyes turned to Wheat; a look of pure black rage in his eyes.
"You're supposed to be the leader when me and the Kid ain't around. You're supposed to keep everyone in line, set an example..."
"Three bottles 'tween the four on us, ain't much..."
"Yeah, but you drank most of em yerself, Wheat," Hank said.
Wheat turned on him.
"You wanna take this outside Hank? 'Cause sure as thunder follows lightning I've had about as much as I can take from you..."
That's enough!" Heyes rapped out. "Do I take it not one of yers done a thing 'cept drink, fight and play poker since you got here?"
"You done any work at all fellas?" Kid asked, a look as dark and dangerous as his partner's.
The guilty silence said it all. Heyes and the Kid stared at each other. A look, almost of panic, crossed Heyes face. He turned and walked outside into the forest and slumped down against a tree.
"Well, that's it," he said as Kid came over to join him. "There's no way. No way we can work this through in time now. All that work, a whole winter of planning, done, gone, finished."
Kid sighed deeply. Then looked at Heyes and said; "no. No, we can still do it. It'll be hard. It'll take all night, but it can still be done."
Heyes looked up at him, questioning. Kid had that steely, determined look in his blue eyes - gave his partner hope.
"Kid, the plan was to dig and blast for three days, We got barely 12 hours..."
"How much rock we have to shift to break through that wall?" Kid asked.
"Just over five feet deep. Five feet of hard granite boulders. Can't be done Kid."
Sure it can. We all work together, make sure no one shirks..." he shrugged. "We can try. And if we can't do it, well... We'll have to give up the idea of the bank and settle for just Josh and Abel."
"Everyone's gonna be awful tired," Heyes said, thinking out loud. "Hard to shake a posse on these narrow rocky trails. That was the whole reasoning behind the tunnel, if you remember."
Kid nodded. "Tunnel or no tunnel, we gotta get them boys out of jail, Heyes. We got a responsibility."
"How'd you work that out?"
"Where'd you think they got the notion for robbing banks in the first place? Them boys would never have contemplated a thing like that if they hadn't grown up listening to us, reading about us in the newspapers and the damn dime novels. That's why we stopped going over to the farm, if you remember. You said it yourself; the way them boys used to look up to us when they was growing up, like we was heroes. Begging us to tell what we done, what we 'd robbed. Eating up all them tales we told."
Heyes nodded.
"We gotta break em out, get em a stake, pack em off to South America or someplace..." Kid said.
"South America?"
"Heyes, they got a price on their heads and now a murder charge to boot. They stay here, eventually someone's gonna catch up to em. They're gonna get caught and they're gonna get hanged."
"OK, Kid," Heyes said, standing up with a sigh. "You've convinced me, so let's get started. Twelve hours huh?" he said. He felt exhausted just thinking about the work they were gonna have to do, not to mention the job ahead of that. "So which one of us is gonna break it to the boys?"
"Heyes," Kid smiled. "Which one of us has the silver tongue?"
The town clock chimed out two in the morning.
The six men dismounted just shy of the centre of the little town, moving on foot, leading their horses; saddles and tack padded and bound with rags to keep noise to a minimum. They split into three groups; two men moving silently to positions on either side of the bank, another man watching the front of the sheriff's office and the road into town, the fourth to the back of the jailhouse, affording him a view of the town's only other road. The last two slipped quietly around the side of the bank.
Kid Curry stood over Heyes, his gun in his hand, guarding his friend's back while he worked a bar spreader on the bank's window till the gap was just wide enough to take his slender frame. He carefully manipulated the catch to open the sash, reaching through to put the big canvas cabin bag down on the floor inside. Then he slipped gracefully through the window - to be confronted by Bruce Mathers Senior holding a Derringer pistol right at his belly. Heyes held his breath and raised his hands.
"You're working late Mr Mathers, little bookkeeping..."
"Shut up Johnson!" the man hissed. "What happened? That claim up in the Westons not doing too well? Thought you'd supplement your income with a little bank robbery?"
Heyes smiled. He kept his eyes firmly on the little Derringer, trembling dangerously in the man's unsteady hand. He'd seen what kind of damage that little gun could do to a man and had no desire to experience it for himself.
"You got me covered Mr Mathers," he said gently. "I got my hands in the air here. Ain't no reason to shoot. Now, I'm gonna take off my gunbelt real slow and pass it over to you, OK?"
The man nodded. Heyes bent to untie the leather thong that held his holster to his leg and - as he'd anticipated, the man's eyes dropped to watch him. Which was when Kid Curry put his hand through the window and got the drop on him. At the exact moment Kid drew the hammer back, Mathers looked up, his attention all on Kid - which was when Heyes snatched out his own gun and held it at the man's head.
"Alright Mathers," Heyes said quietly, as Kid came in through the window and pulled down the blind. "We do rob banks, but we don't shoot folks. You're not gonna do something stupid and make us blot our clean record on that now, are you?"
The banker shook his head, slow and stunned.
"Then give me the gun. Careful now, don't want any accidents."
Heyes gently brought his hand up, and prised the gun from Mather's grasp. He snapped on the safety and put it in his pocket.
"Good," Heyes smiled, unable to hide his relief that the dangerous little firearm was put away safe and sound.
"Well Bruce," he said, pushing his hat far back on his head. "You've kinda gone and complicated things for us just a little. You're not going to give us any trouble and force us to put a bullet in yer, now are you?"
The man shook his head, a look of pure terror on his fat and jowly face.
"Good," Heyes smiled with a nod. "Well then, you go and sit down over there, so's my friend here can tie you up," Heyes said, leading the man over to his own desk.
Heyes squatted down to look the man in the eye, holding the gun at the man's frightened face, as he watched Kid tie his wrists tight behind him.
"Mr Mathers," Heyes said, talking quietly in a reasoning tone - as if he were explaining to a naughty child why he was going to have to spank him.
"We're gonna have to ask you to co-operate with us and do just exactly what my partner here tells you. He's gonna bind and gag yer and he don't want you trying to get away, or raise the alarm, because if you do, you're gonna get hurt and like we told you, we don't like shooting folks..."
Kid finished tying the man, then took Mather's own clean, scented linen handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it into his mouth, binding it with a bandanna.
"...So you're gonna sit quiet now, aren't you? My friend here'll keep you company while I go rob your bank," and with a squeeze of the man's shoulder and a friendly nod, Heyes moved quickly to the strongroom door.
He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes at his smiling partner. Only Kid could have known how scared Heyes had been during the encounter, especially when that Derringer was trembling in the banker's hand. But things were under control again and Heyes was in his element now; eyes closed, ear to the door as he worked the combination.
Twenty two minutes after he first bent his ear to the mechanism, Curry heard the familiar, cheerful clunk of a handle turning, and Heyes - a happy grin of triumph on his face - pulling with all his weight and strength on the heavy iron door.
Heyes took a moment to catch a deep breath, push back his hat, and wipe his sleeve across his brow before disappearing inside the strongroom to begin work on the safe.
Thirty seven and a half minutes later, Heyes emerged from the room, hauling the now bulging canvas bag with him.
Kid shot him a glance - OK?
Heyes gave him a nod.
Kid nodded in pleased satisfaction. Adrenaline flowing, he was ready to get out and get over to the jail, but Heyes was crouching down before the banker again, pulling the gag from his mouth.
Heyes smiled - a big broad smile that stopped short of his eyes - they stayed stony hard, almost cruel.
"Now then, Mr Mathers. I have to say, it was a real unexpected pleasure having your company tonight, cos I really wasn't anticipating this, but I'm right glad to have the chance of a little conversation with ya before I leave town tonight..."
"Heyes?" Kid hissed, gesturing at the big brass clock hanging on the wall behind them, which now said three fifteen.
Heyes nodded reassuringly. "S'OK. This won't take long, just want a quiet word with our friend here."
He turned his unrelenting smile back on the terrified man. "It was your son shot the sheriff that night wasn't it?"
"What?"
"Sshhhh!" Heyes soothed. "No need to make so much noise, Mr Mathers. Don't wanna wake the whole town now, do we? Just answer the question. Quietly."
"No, I... I don't know, I wasn't here..."
Heyes shook his head regretfully. "No, no, no. Won't do Bruce. There were two of your clerks here, and your son, and your friend Mr Clitterhouse. Now, you're not gonna tell me that you don't know the truth of what happened here that night?"
The man was sweating, shaking his head convulsively as Heyes held his stare. Kid watched and wondered where this was going - and how long it was going to take.
"You see, Mr Wilmott," Heyes said, looking up at Kid. "Sheriff Clitterhouse likes his whiskey. Him and me got to talking over in the Silver Dollar last night. He told me all about the Cattlemen's money here in this bank. Course," he grinned. "I already knew all about that. That's why I came down to Fairplay." He winked at Mathers and patted the bag lovingly. "But he also told me a tale about how young Bruce the Third was no good as a deputy; him being lazy, inept, nasty tempered and a little too trigger happy for old Curt's liking.
"He told me how little Bruce had a falling out with Sheriff John Parker on account of Brucey wanting desperately to be a deputy but Parker refusing to take him on, on account of him being a no good young hothead who was always on the wrong side of trouble. Now young Mathers wanted Curt Clitterhouse to be sheriff didn't he? Because he knew, Curt being a weak and greedy soul, that he'd do whatever the richest man in town'd ask of him. Including making his pathetic little boy a deputy, and maybe even sheriff one day. Am I right Mr Mathers sir?
"So he shot Parker in the back with his little Derringer pistol, looking to pin it on Josh and Abel Hollis..."
"A pair of thieving outlaws who're gonna hang anyway for robbing my bank!"
Heyes eyes lit up at this sudden outburst. He grinned up at Kid.
"Hoped to get em lynched huh?" Kid said to Mathers. Then to Heyes; "there was a real smell of the lynch mob about this town when we arrived. It was in the air, you could almost touch it," he explained.
Heyes nodded. "But old honest Curt Clitterhouse, bless his bovine soul, wouldn't let the boys be lynched on account of wanting the fame and glory of a big trial in his town." Heyes laughed happily.
"Well, well well. Who'd a thought it?" he asked. Owning half the town don't always get a man all he wants, hey Kid?"
"You got a wild imagination son," the banker said to Heyes, his voice trembling, but angry enough to cut through the fear and talk up to the man holding a gun to his face. "You can't prove any of it. It's all talk, that's all it is."
"What was it Josh said?" Heyes asked Kid, taking the Derringer out of his pocket, examining it carefully, like he'd never seen one before.
"Said the bullet went right through the Sheriff's heart, right? No bullet in his body, hole went clean through. Now, I'm gonna ask my friend here, cos he's the firearms expert, what kind of a weapon could leave a wound like that? Not a Colt, not a normal six-gun like a sheriff or his deputy, or even a bank robber'd carry."
He smiled at Kid.
Kid nodded. "Well, you're right about that Mr Johnson. No, I'd say that little Derringer you got there'd do the trick right fine," he said.
Heyes smiled. "Mmmm. You know I was thinking the exact same thing. And you know what?" He looked at the little gun in his hand once again. "I seen the exact same kinda gun in young Deputy Mather's desk. Third drawer down, where he keeps the keys to the cells. Heyes turned his cold, humourless smile back on the pale, sweating banker.
"So I'm gonna havta ask yer again, Mr Mathers," he said, cocking the little gun, and tilting it up and into the man's face. "Who shot Sheriff Parker?"
"You can't do this to me!" the fat banker pleaded as Kid and Heyes dragged the chair, and the man attached to it, into the strongroom. "There's no air! I'll choke to death! It's murder's what it is!"
"Shhhh!" Heyes said. "Now I told you once already about not raising your voice, Bruce. You won't suffocate. Well..." he paused, looking up as if as if thinking; "not before sunup anyhow. I reckon someone'll come git yet before then.
"Now, you be a good boy," Heyes said as Kid pushed the gag back into the banker's protesting mouth, "and I promise to leave a note for the sheriff to tell him where y'are. You keep making all that noise now, and I won't leave that note and it'll be eight o clock - more, fore they come git yer out. Now, which is it gonna be?"
Heyes and Kid slipped across the dark and silent street, gesturing to Hank and Lobo who'd been watching the bank. The four of them met up with Wheat at front of the Sheriff's office.
"You sure took your time, Heyes," Wheat said. "Thought you said it wuz gonna be easy. Losing your touch?"
"Ain't got time to explain now, Wheat," Kid said as Heyes strapped the bag full of money to his horse's saddle.
"How many in there guardin' em?" Kid asked.
"Only one. That big sheriff."
Heyes and Curry exchanged a glance of disappointment.
"I sure was hoping to meet young Mathers tonight," Kid said.
Heyes nodded.
"Well are we gonna stand here jawin all night or are we gonna go git em?" Wheat asked.
Hank took charge of watching the front of the office. Lobo moved to join Kyle round the back, then Heyes, Kid and Wheat went in through the front door.
"Evening Sheriff," Heyes said loudly, to rouse the dozing man. Clitterhouse sprang to life, stopping dead when he saw three guns trained on him.
"What the..."
"It's OK Sheriff," Heyes smiled. "Nothing to worry about. Just an old fashioned jailbreak. You do just as I say and no one'll get hurt. Hand over your gun... thank you," Heyes grinned, handing it to Wheat. "Now, the keys to the jailhouse please. I believe they're kept in that bottom drawer there.
"OK, now I'd like you to unlock that there door and hand us over the Hollis boys. Go with him, keep him covered," Heyes said to Wheat.
"Sure thing, Heyes," Wheat said, starting at the looks on Kid and Heyes' faces - realising his slip even as he said it.
"Heyes?" Clitterhouse said. "Hannibal Heyes?" He looked at the pair of them as they stood there, stony faced, silently cursing Wheat. Looked from the two partners to the wanted posters on his wall and back again. "Well I don't know who he is," Clitterhouse said, pointing to Wheat, "But I'll bet your baby faced partner's Kid Curry."
"Wheat Carlson's the name!" Wheat said, incensed. "Why, goddammit you got a picture of me on that flyer right there!"
"Wheat!" Kid snapped. "It don't matter who we are Sheriff," he said, striding towards the man, his gun in his hand. "You just git on and let them boys outta there."
The sheriff looked from one to the other, guts twisting as he realised the gold and the glory he'd let slip through his hands by not recognising two such notorious outlaws. Hell, he'd sat all night playing poker with Hannibal Heyes and never known it. But he'd know him again alright. He vowed if their paths ever crossed, he'd pay him back good and proper for this humiliation. But for now, he had four guns on him, so he unlocked the cell.
Josh and Abel ran out to be handed their gunbelts by Heyes, who also had Deputy Mather's little Derringer. He walked back to the cell, where Lobo was tying the sheriff up and preparing to gag him.
"Hold up a minute, Lobo," Heyes said, coming into the jail block. "I want a confession," he said to Clitterhouse. "Written and signed by you, Sheriff, saying it was Mathers shot Sheriff Parker, not Josh and Abel."
"What?" Clitterhouse almost laughed. "You must be crazy!"
"We know it's true," Heyes said, "cause old Mr Mathers told us so this very night. Oh, er - you oughta know we robbed the bank this evening too," he grinned. "Left old Mr Mathers locked in the strongroom."
Heyes enjoyed the look of shock and consternation that crossed the sheriff's face. But Clitterhouse shook his head. "I ain't gonna sign nothing Heyes," he said.
Kid took Heyes aside. He was worried. His partner had a wild, desperate and determined look on his face and he didn't like it one bit.
"Heyes," he hissed. "We ain't got time for this. Sun'll be up in just over an hour and a posse on the way not long after. We gotta go now"
"I want him to tell the truth, clear Josh and Abel..."
"He ain't gonna. He knows we're running out of time. Short of shooting him limb by limb, I don't see how we're gonna make him."
"Then we'll take him with us."
Kid shook his head. "What's the matter with you? I never seen you so unreasonable. Heyes, Josh and Abel robbed that bank. They've already got a price on their heads. it's too late to try and save em now. It's soon gonna be too late for us too. We gotta go now, we gotta move fast and we ain't taking no hostages with us."
Kid decided to take charge. "Gag the sheriff tight and lock him up, Lobo," he said. Then, turning to look his partner in the eye; "Time to go Heyes. Lets git outta here."
The disappearance of Josh and Abel Hollis and The Devil's Hole Gang would continue to be a matter of hot debate and conjecture in the town of Fairplay for many months, still talked about for years to come.
Many theories were put forward; that the entire party had become lost in the mountains, maybe buried in snow then eaten up by coyotes. Maybe they'd been buried by a rockfall? Or fallen to their deaths in some remote and, as yet, undiscovered spot. No one, it seemed, would ever know. The probability that they were dead was a regret only to banker Mathers - who lost 150,000 dollars and a lot of valuable business when it became known that outlaws had opened his 'impregnable' strongroom in less than an hour. It was a bitter regret to The Cattlemen's Association of Wyoming - who lost not only their money, but had the additional chagrin of knowing it was The Devil's Hole Gang, that perpetual thorn in their side, who had taken it.
Young Deputy Mathers too, had several weeks of heartache when it finally sunk in that his deeds of derring-do would never be recorded in a Beadle and Adams dime novel.
But most tormented of all was Sheriff Curt Clitterhouse, who had to leave the pleasant town of Fairplay for a post in the far less congenial climate of a small, hot, dusty locale in southern New Mexico, where he prayed in church every Sunday; begging God that Curry and Heyes had escaped death and were still out there somewhere. Hoping against all hope that one day, they would walk back into his life so's he could pay them back and do it good.
"How far are they behind us Kid?" Heyes asked as they looked back from the ledge, watching for the posse out of Fairplay.
"Good ways back yet Heyes, 'bout and hour, maybe more."
Heyes grinned. "OK, lets git moving."
They walked to where the rest of the gang were waiting. Heyes felt the need to put Wheat in his place after his escapades of this past week
"Wheat," he commanded. "I need you to dust off our trail..."
"Well where's the point in that?" Wheat protested. "We's about to head off over them rocks. They can't track us up there..."
"No point in making it any easier for em than we havta Wheat," Kid snapped. "Now quit arguin' and do as Heyes says."
Wheat glared round at the rest of the gang, all grinning at him, except the ever-loyal Kyle. But even he was looking at the ground so's Wheat couldn't see the expression on his face.
Wheat glared, puffed, twitched, looked like he was about to say something, thought better of it, got down off his horse, and with a faultless show of pained dignity, broke off a piece of sage brush and wiped out their trail.
Heyes got down on his hands and knees, feeling around the floor of the scrubby forest undergrowth till he found what he was looking for. He shifted the pile of dry brush out of the way, and jumped down into the hole. Kyle, Kid and Lobo rushed to help him drag the well-hidden, heavy wooden trap-door to one side. A draft of damp, musty air hit them. They had some trouble persuading the horses down the steep slope into the deep, dark, opening - but eventually, got them inside. Then Kid, Hank and Lobo piled the brush back onto the wooden door and carefully manoeuvred it back into place above them, then joined the others down in the cave where Heyes lit a candle and used its light to guide him to the kerosene lamps.
The dank little room was feeling a little more snug now the lights were lit, though poor ventilation made it smoky. Heyes could tell too, that with so many ill-tempered men grouped up together in this small space, cabin fever would set in pretty quickly. Nothing he could do about that. They only had to lay low till the law had given up and stopped looking for them. It might be a week, maybe two, maybe more. There was a pool of pure water at the far side of the cavern and Heyes had had enough blankets, straw, feed, canned foods and other supplies brought in to keep them and their horses warm, fed and watered for up to eight weeks, should that prove necessary, though he dearly hoped it wouldn't. He kinda feared not all of them would come out alive if it was. Wheat sure as hell wouldn't. He was halfway to killing him right now. Giving their names away like that'd been the last straw for Heyes as far as Wheat was concerned. Last thing any of them needed was another lawman out there who could recognise them on sight.
Heyes had spent much of last winter pondering on what exactly enabled a posse to run men to ground? The answer he came up with was simple - tiredness.
So long as a posse kept on a man's trail, the posse, being superior in numbers, carrying extra horses, could chase a man and his animal to exhaustion.
But if that man could hide himself away long enough for the posse to figure him lost, well; that man could slip away days, weeks, even months later when he was all but forgotten.
That thought got Heyes thinking, and thinking got him remembering that cave near Fairplay...
The two underground systems - one a worked out and long forgotten mine, the other a natural cave - had been separated by a deep rockfall that had closed the mine - untouched these thirty years. Till Heyes had come across the information someplace, stored it away in that brain of his, never knowing when it would come in handy...
The cavern was linked to the surface by numerous old blind tunnels made by prospectors thirty and more years ago. It was a simple enough task - if you had the right maps and knew how to read em - to find a passage that linked in to these caves, it's entrance hid deep enough in the forest to make it easy to hide. Sixteen days later, by dead of night, the gang made their stiff and sorry way the half mile down the dark passageways and through the pool, emerging on the other side of the mountain, many miles from Fairplay.
The haul had been shared out equally between them all, including Josh and Abel. There had been some grumbling about this from some other members of the gang, especially Wheat (who'd already had to fork over a considerable percentage of his share in gambling debts to Hank, Lobo and even Kyle), but Heyes and Kid pointed out that the boys had a heavy price on their heads now, and a rope around their necks too. They needed a stake to get themselves out of the country. They'd already decided on some place called Patagonia, down in Argentina. They'd got kin living down that way. New country, big open rangeland. A good place to start over again.
Heyes wrote them a letter of introduction to Silky O'Sullivan who would look after them in San Francisco and get them on a ship going south. With the stake the gang had given them, they could buy a ranch and some head of cattle and make a fresh start. The gang split up on the other side of the mountain, just in case there was still the odd stray out hunting for them. Heyes didn't think it too likely, but it was best to take no chances.
Heyes and the Kid rode alongside the Hollis twins for a few miles, till their trails diverged, and it was time for a parting of the ways. With only half-hidden tears and fond embraces, the two young brothers said goodbye to their old friends.
"We can't thank you enough for what you done," Josh told them.
"I can't believe we'll never see you boys again," Abel said.
"Well, maybe we'll meet again some day," Kid said, "When we're all a little older and maybe a little wiser too. Life takes some strange turns, boys. You never know what's around the corner."
"It'll only happen if you come to out Argentina too. We can't never come north again. It'd mean a rope around our necks," Abel said sadly.
"I surely wish we could pay back that sheriff, his deputy, hell, all of them folks back there for what they done to you," Heyes said.
"Don't let it eat at you Heyes," Josh said. "We knew how it might end when we took up thievin'. We shoulda known better. We ain't as smart as you..."
"We ain't so smart, Josh" Kid said. "If we was, we wouldn't have led you boys astray like we did."
The twins laughed at that.
"Well, we don't really see it that way, Kid," Abel said. "We don't want you to, neither. We made our own beds boys, now we gotta learn to lay in em."
"Another thing we don't believe in is long goodbyes," Josh said, "So we'll be on our way; Kid, Heyes. Be seein you, fellas."
The four men gripped each other tightly by the hand, then the Hollis boys turned their horses west and rode away down the steep mountain pass. Kid and Heyes watched them go, till they turned the bend, out of sight.
It was early evening. The last pink lights were fading on the snow capped mountains and bright stars had started spangling the blue velvet Wyoming sky.
Heyes was walking back to the cabin, having finished chopping his quota of wood for the day. Winter was coming and they needed a good supply of fuel to see them through. It was hard work and he was tired and sweating despite the October chill. He could smell the sweet tang of wood-smoke rising from the chimney, hanging over the wood shingled roof in a still cloud in the clear, frosty air. Them shingles needed fixin too, Heyes thought with a sigh. One good storm'd lift half of em clean off, but the fire meant Kid was back too, and he could see two fat deer laying in the porch. Heyes smiled, 'God bless Kid's true aim,' he thought. 'Fresh meat tonight and plenty left over for smoking.'
It was tough getting ready for the winter when there was so much to do and only the two of you to do it. They'd been able to buy in plenty of stores of course, with their fat share of the Fairplay haul. But with all the other boys off living it up, just laying in enough wood for the stove and feed for the horses was exhausting.
It had been Heyes' idea to winter back at the Hole. Kid had suggested Denver, maybe even San Francisco - he assumed the money would be burning a hole in Heyes' pocket. But for once, Heyes was not inclined to the high life. He felt a few weeks of peace and quiet would help soothe his tired nerves in a way that poker and blackjack in smoke filled saloons and whorehouses would not. Kid was only too happy to go along. He felt the same way. It would be a lonely time, with just the two of them here. Maybe a couple more of the boys would trickle in when the snow and the money were gone, but all in all, it looked like it would be a long, quiet winter. He didn't mind being snowed in there with just Heyes for company. He felt safe here. And there'd be plenty of time to spend their money living it up in the spring.
They spent the evening by the stove; Kid cleaning his gun, watching Heyes staring out at the night beyond the window. He had a book open on his lap, but he hadn't looked at it for a long time.
"Smells like snow," Kid said to break the silence. "Soon be winter."
Heyes sighed and stretched, looked over at his partner. "Guess so. Think we'll have enough wood to see us through?"
Kid laughed. "Heyes, you cut any more wood and we'll have enough to build us three more cabins. I don't know what's gotten into you lately. I've never seen you so industrious and hard working."
Heyes grinned. "Ain't nothin' wrong with a little good, honest work Kid. Good for the soul, you should give it a try sometime."
That made Kid laugh. "Yeah. Well I'll take your word for that, Heyes. You want some more coffee while it's hot?"
"No. No, I think I might go to bed pretty soon. I'm real tired."
Heyes fell quiet then for a good long while.
"What's out there that's so interesting Heyes?" Kid asked. "Cos you been staring at it all evening."
Heyes broke off out of his reverie and looked across at his partner.
"I was thinking 'bout Josh and Abel," he said.
"They'll be out at sea, halfway to Argentina by now," Kid said, re-assembling his gun and wiping the oil off his hands with a rag.
"I was thinking about what you said. How we led them astray. We've ruined their lives Kid. Split them apart from their kin. Had to leave their home, their country. There's that Mathers kid too..."
"Mathers? How'd we manage to lead him into sin Heyes?" Kid laughed.
"Would he have done what he did if it weren't for them stupid books he read?"
"Well I ain't taking the blame fer that! I didn't write em..."
Heyes grinned. "Nope. Guess not. Think we'll ever run into him again?"
"I surely hope not!" Kid said with feeling, as he re-loaded his gun. "Him or that slimy sheriff."
Heyes smiled. "Yeah, well," he said standing and stretching. "At least that's one guy should be easy to stay ahead of. I mean, it's not a name you're likely to forget. Can't be two sheriffs in the world named Curt Clitterhouse."
The End