The husky bartender stood behind a roughly constructed bar top. The oak planking stretched along a short wall of the open room and rested atop three barrels. Although crude, it served its purpose as was evident by the number of numbed bodies leaning precariously along its length. Mismatched tables and chairs were strewn about the rest of the small space. Some occupied, some not.
Wiping glasses with a grayish rag, he eyed the two men who'd just entered through the swinging doors. Covered in trail dust with lines of fatigue etched in their faces, they made a beeline to where he stood. He gave them no words of greeting watching the dark-haired one warily. He'd already pegged this one as the talker; the other was standing slightly behind his companion and was scanning the room. Good-for-nothing saddle tramps from the look of them. He would've pegged them for outlaws if they weren't so darn smiley-faced.
"Two beers," said the dark one with a huge, dimpled grin. He didn't wait for a reply instead turning his back to the bar and joining his friend in his survey of the other customers. He jumped slightly when he felt a tap on his shoulder and frowned at the bartender who was gesturing with his thumb at a sign above the back bar. A sharp elbow in his partner's side got the attention of the blond who also read the sign and also frowned. It said: Money Before Drink, NO Exceptions. Resting under it on a pair of rusted railroad spikes nailed into the wall was a customized scattergun.
The two men looked at each and then patted down their pockets, turning them inside out and retrieving a small store of coins. Slamming them down on the counter, the dark-haired man quickly counted them out loud. "Five, six, eight, twelve, sixteen cents." He smiled beseechingly.
"Beers are ten cents apiece," were the first words to escape the taciturn tavern owner's lips since they'd met him.
"We've only got sixteen cents," said the blond.
"Then you only get one beer." The surly man grabbed two nickels, went to his tap, and pulled a draft of warm beer. He set it down in front of his new customers. Both men reached for the beer, but the blond was faster and picked up the dirty mug. He winced slightly as he sipped the bitter brew.
The dark one stared hard at the barkeep's retreating back. "Friendly sort, ain't he?"
"Let it go, Heyes," said the Kid so softly only his partner could hear him. He crossed over to one of the tables and sat down in a rickety chair still holding the beer.
With a weary sigh, Heyes joined him. "Hand over that beer before you drink it all."
The Kid reluctantly passed the mug. "We've been in the saddle for weeks and all we have to show for it is six cents and a warm beer. Goin' for amnesty's beginnin' to feel like a mistake to me."
Heyes put down the mug and leaned back studying his best friend. The Kid looked as tired as he felt and both of them smelt as bad as they looked. He'd give anything for a hot bath and a roof over their heads, but they'd be sleeping on the hard ground again come nightfall. Life certainly hadn't gotten easier since they'd gone straight. If anything, it was a whole lot harder. They'd always had money in their pockets back in the day, now the only thing they had in them were holes and a few pennies.
Curry snatched up the beer and continued. "I mean, what's changed for the better? It's not like we don't have to still worry about bein' recognized and havin' some posse on our tails. And, we've still got twenty years hangin' over our heads if we do get caught."
"Shh, someone might hear you," cautioned Heyes.
"That's just it. I'm sick of lookin' over our shoulders all the time. What has it gotten us? We never have any money, no place to live, and the meals are fewer and further apart than they've ever been."
"What are you saying, Kid? You want to go back to thieving?" Heyes kept his face neutral but his heart gave a little leap at the thought of returning to his larcenous ways. He missed being somebody.
"I might. Do you?" countered the Kid. His eyes shifted away from the brown ones boring into him and he smiled at the man who stopped behind Heyes' back. "Howdy, Mister. Can I help you?"
The tall, gaunt black-haired man smiled warmly at the faces turned up to him. "You just might. I couldn't help noticing you're sharing that beer. Can I buy you each your own?"
"Well, that'd be real nice of you. Care to join us?" Heyes used his foot to push back the chair on the opposite side of the table and the tall man folded his length into it.
"I was hoping you'd ask. There's something I'd like to talk to you about." He held up three fingers until he caught the barkeep's eye. When he was satisfied that the beers were on their way, he looked back at the two men seated with him.
"What's that?" asked the Kid.
"I'm Stuart Larson and I've got a spread south of here near Tucson on the edge of the Sonoran; you familiar with that country?"
"A little. We were in Tucson once but it was a long time ago and we were just passing through," said Heyes. He didn't add that there'd been a necktie party on their tails. "So you're a rancher?"
"I run cattle and that's what I want to talk to you about. Mr., ah?"
"Smith, Joshua Smith, and this here's my partner, Thaddeus."
The Kid couldn't stifle a groan, he hated ranching. "Sorry, back's sore. Too much time in the saddle."
Stuart nodded. "I saw those animals you rode in on. You boys know your horseflesh."
Heyes nodded at the compliment as the bartender arrived with the fresh beers.
"Here's the deal. I've got a herd of broomtails that've taken up residence on my best pastureland and best ain't much where I'm from. It takes almost two hundred acres out there to support one cow and I can't afford to be sharing with a bunch of hayburners who breed like rabbits."
"Why haven't you rounded them up?" asked Heyes.
"I've tried, but there's just me and three other hands. We're a small operation and I can't waste time going after this herd. Sure, I could shoot 'em, but I'm not the kind of man that mows down an animal for what doing what it's supposed to do. That's where you come in. I reckon there're some pretty decent horses in that herd. If you were to round 'em up and drive 'em into Fort Lowell, the army might give as much as fifteen dollars a head, unbroke, for the best of the bunch."
"How many horses are we talkin' about?" asked Curry.
"Eight adults and some yearlings and weanlings; maybe fourteen or so altogether. You should clear a hundred easy."
"And you're willing to just let us take 'em? Why?" asked a suspicious Heyes.
"'Cause I don't have the money to pay you. It's more than a fair day's work. The lead stallion's a cagey one and his boss mare has a trick or two up her sleeve. It ain't gonna be fast or easy and, if I were to pay you a wage to do it, I could lose money on the deal. This way, you do the work, you get the profit, and I get my problem solved. What d'you say?"
The two partners shared a quick glance.
"Throw in room and board while we're working and you've got a deal," Heyes grinned.
"Done!" Stuart smiled, stood up, and shook both their hands. "I'll expect you to start day after tomorrow. Just follow the south road out of Tucson ten miles or so, it'll take you straight past the gate to the Lazy L. There's a big sign on it, you can't miss it."
"Mind if we start tomorrow?" asked the Kid hopefully. His stomach was growling and room and board sounded mighty good to him.
Stuart slapped him on the back and grinned. "I like a man who takes initiative. See you tomorrow, boys." He tossed two bits on the table and left without waiting for his change.
Heyes pulled his six cents from his pocket and laid it down before picking up the second quarter and tucking it away. He saw the smirk the Kid gave him. "What!? At least we can afford dinner now."
"A dinner."
"Drink up and quit bellyaching. We've got us a job," laughed Heyes.
oooOOOooo
Lying on their bellies at the top of a slickrock overhang, the two ex-outlaws crept forward until they could see into the box canyon below them. A cloudless blue sky overhead was starkly contrasted with the scrubby, sage-covered desert floor. Here, as promised, the herd frequently sheltered in the safety of the rock walls. On the western end, the canyon narrowed down to a long neck providing access and an easily defensible hideout. The horses were scattered throughout the canyon, nibbling at the sparse grasses and plants.
"It's like a horse's version of the Hole," whispered Heyes as he pulled out a pair of field glasses. He quickly studied the animals before handing the glasses to the Kid. "Good looking bunch."
The stallion was a handsome, broad-backed bay. His coat shone brightly in the early morning light as he circled the herd, marking his territory. Curry whistled appreciatively and, a second later, the faint, shrill sound carried to the sensitive ears of the boss mare. She lifted her head and froze trying to determine the direction of the threat. With a loud bellow of alarm, she sprang into action and the rest of the herd fell into line, following her at a gallop towards the exit. The stallion brought up the rear, nipping the hind ends of the stragglers, urging them to stay together.
"What'd you go and do that for?!" growled Heyes, standing up and dusting himself off.
"Sorry, I didn't think she'd hear me. The wind was blowin' away from her. Don't matter anyways, they'd have spooked when we started buildin' the fence. This way, maybe we can get it done before they decide it's safe to return." Getting to his feet, Curry watched the trail of dust settle onto the ground. The horses were long gone. "Stuart said she was smart. Guess he wasn't kiddin'."
"Yeah, good thing they favor this spot. We can let them come to us. It'll be easy pickings."
"And you know how much I like easy," grinned the Kid.
"Me too, Kid, me too."
oooOOOooo
Wiping his sleeve across his sweaty brow, Heyes squinted at the setting sun before turning back to watch Curry stack the last of the sagebrush against the makeshift fence stretched across the neck of the canyon. "Looks good, Kid, what say we quit and finish up in the morning? I'm bushed, pun intended."
"Works for me, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." He stretched and rubbed his back. "At least we've got the hard part over and done with."
"It shouldn't take more than an hour to build a gate." Heyes picked up his canteen and held it out to the Kid. "By this time tomorrow, we could have the whole herd penned up."
"You really think so?"
"Sure. I'll spread out some feed inside the fence to make it harder to resist. When they've got themselves all boxed up, we just shut the gate and let them settle down for a while. Then we'll divvy 'em up. Shouldn't be hard to rope up the mamas and papas; the youngsters ought to follow along all the way to Fort Lowell."
oooOOOooo
"*#$%&!" Heyes watched his lariat slither off the back of the sorrel mare as she ducked her head and pivoted away. "That's the third time she's shook my rope! I swear that old cow has eyes in the back of her head."
The Kid laughed as the mare stopped just out of reach and turned to stare at her tormentor. "She's got your number, Heyes. Look at her; she's just darin' you to try again." The first part of their plan had gone well. It had taken a few hours of nosing around the fence for the horses to finally decide it was safe for them to re-enter their refuge. He and Heyes had been ready and the minute the last horse passed through the gate, they'd snapped it shut. The second part of their plan wasn't going nearly as well. They'd managed to rope most of the horses and get them used to the leads. Those animals stood tied to the fence, but the stallion and mare still eluded them. Without them, it was unlikely they'd get the rest to cooperate for the ride to Fort Lowell. He was beginning to wonder if old Stuart had hoodwinked them after all. Heyes looked as if he might be wondering the same thing. His partner was staring at the mare intently. "You ain't trying any of that mindreadin' stuff, are you, Heyes?"
"Naw, just thinking."
"Good, 'cause I seem to remember it didn't go so well with that one-horned steer down in Mexico."
Heyes walked towards him. "I've got an idea. We've been going about this the wrong way. I've been concentrating on the mare and she knows it. She's been keeping me busy while the stallion keeps pestering the others. That's kept you busy trying to catch him and making sure he doesn't rile them up. She's split us up sweet as pie. She's a genius, Kid, but it takes one to know one."
Curry rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut despite wanting to point out that Heyes wasn't proving to be as smart as an average horse, not even that horse's hind end.
"We have to partner up same as them and, instead of splitting them up, we drive 'em together."
"How're we gonna do that? It's a big canyon."
"It is, but what do they want? They want what we have, their herd."
"Yeah, so?"
"So we rope the others together and you take them around the corner out of sight. That'll make these two panicky and they'll try to follow them but the fence'll stop them."
Curry saw where this was going. "I ain't buildin' another fence."
"I'm not asking you to. We've still got a bunch of rope left. I'll tear up your spare shirt and hang some rags from it so it'll look more substantial then I'll tie one end of it to that Hackberry tree," he pointed to the largest tree on the left side of the neck. "When they come up against the fence, I'll pull it across behind them and trap them."
"My shirt?!"
"Hey, I'm providing the plan!"
Shaking his head and grumbling the whole way, Curry opened the gate and walked to where his horse was tied on the other side of the fence. He led it into the corral and retrieved his shirt from his saddlebag handing it to his partner without a word. He tied the other herd animals together and mounted up. Heyes swung the gate open and the long string of horses soon disappeared around the mouth of the canyon.
He started tearing the faded pinkish shirt into long strips. He'd always hated this shirt. As planned, the mare and stallion anxiously rushed to the fence as their companions left. Heyes let them wear themselves out pacing back and forth along the fence line, whinnying constantly to their herd while he constructed his 'fence'. With the rope tied off securely, he walked slowly and quietly to the other side of the canyon until he reached the rock wall, then he walked towards the fence as the mare and stallion shied away from him and the rope, snorting loudly at the unfamiliar fluttering rags tied to it. Trapping them in a small triangular enclosure, Heyes tied the other end of the rope to the fence and picked up his lariat. It only took the two animals a moment to realize they were trapped and they both broke out in a nervous sweat.
Heyes whistled loudly and the Kid soon appeared leading the string of horses up the neck of the canyon. The mare and stallion calmed down when they saw their friends and eagerly watched them arrive. It didn't take long before they, too, were tied in the string.
oooOOOooo
"A hundred and six, a hundred and seven, one hundred and eight dollars," said the uniformed sergeant as he handed over a wad of bills. "Thank you, gentlemen." He turned to untie the sorrel mare, gently stroking her neck. "The captain's sure gonna love this one."
Heyes and the Kid watched as the soldier led the animal away.
"Who'd have thought she'd settle down so fast?" asked Curry watching the coppery mare walking placidly alongside the sergeant.
Heyes snorted, "Didn't you see the look in her eye, Kid? She's just biding her time. C'mon, I want to get out of here with the cash before the sergeant figures out what he's bought."
"I hear that; where to, partner?" He untied his horse and mounted.
"Somewhere with warm weather and cold beers and a long way from wild horses," answered Heyes as he swung up into his saddle.
A loud curse reached them as they broke into a slow jog and they turned in their saddles to see the mare pulling away from the sergeant, a large swath of dark blue army wool clenched in her big teeth. They put their heels to their horses and, laughing, galloped away.