Disclaimer: The characters of Heyes and Curry don't belong to me. This is a non-profit story, written for fun only.
Beta: Starsky's Strut who not only picks out the plot holes and errors in my grammar, but always manages to keep me enthused about writing. Other creative input is done by Skandranonn. However, I always do a lot of editing and revising, so any remaining mistakes are mine.
Rating: A very high T
Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort. The story has a slower pacing and is less angst ridden than (if you're familiar with it) my usual work but can still pack a punch, so beware.
Characters: Curry and Heyes (as played by Pete Duel). For the purpose of this story, they are friends, not nephews. I took care to keep their past in canon, although I might have taken liberties interpreting certain events.
Genre: Drama, Gen.
Status: I received several requests to put this story on line. However, since I wrote this back in my teens and this is a new fandom to write in for me, I need to revise the entire thing from plot to POV to premise to grammar as I digitalize it. Chapters will be posted as I go along, alternating with chapters posted in another fandom.
Summary: Restless, Kid Curry pushes the boundary of safety when confronted with his brother who carries a smothering grudge against Heyes.
Author's notes: I'm still trying to get a feel for writing the characters of Heyes and Curry. Please keep in mind that I'm non-native English and that writing in the Western era is also new to me. Having said that, this story serves as a welcome relief to the fast pacing stories I usually write. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Enjoy.
Alias Smith and Jones
"Escape Clause"
by Kreek©April2010
Prologue
A winter's chill ran down Curry's spine as he steadied his horse enough to mount. As if conspiring against him, the wind picked up, sending dust clouds twirling among four sets of feet. One of those sets bearing four hooves now skittishly dancing aside.
With one leg already in the stirrup, his partner was hopping on the other while trying to steady his ride.
"Try to talk to it," Curry offered, unable to suppress a smile.
Heyes shot him a dark look. "What do you think I've been doing all this time!" The anger in his voice only enflamed the argument he seemed to be having with his horse.
The animal decided to go for a pirouette.
Threatening to burst into laughter, Kid Curry relaxed in his saddle. He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the Bay lady determined to keep Heyes out of her personal space. Fully prepared to enjoy the entertaining scene in front of the rackety barn, he let his hands rest carefully on the pommel and felt his muscles unclench for the first time in days. They had been doing ranch work for the last month. Trouble was, this part of the country was dry and barren. Life was hard and come winter people's disposition changed from friendly to unpleasant as they dug in against the cold, and all hired help was firmly told to move on.
Heyes, reins in hand, tried to sooth the mare with a steadfast touch and reassuring words. Curry had to admit this usually worked. Not impressed, the mare flattened her ears, eyes rolling to keep track of her tormentor.
Amused, Curry waited for the truth to sink in. Sure enough, a second later Heyes turned toward the rightful source of his misery, voice low and threatening. "Where did you get her?"
"I didn't get her." He said amused, ignoring the threat. "They came as a set."
"A set." Heyes looked at Curry's horse, a chestnut gelding as docile as a farm dog.
"Yeah," he said, feeding his partner's growing agitation. "And at a bargain too!" He slapped the horse on the shoulder who flicked an ear back in response. "I bought this fellow here, and then the farmer said he couldn't let him go without her."
Heyes got distracted due to the mare violently jerking her head up in an attempt to rip the reins from his hands.
"Been together since they was foals," Curry continued without pause, the horse giving Heyes no time to respond.
Truth was, he'd spent the entire morning looking for someone selling two horses. But in this sparsely populated area there were no livery stables, and the horses people owned often meant the difference between communication and isolation. They were not for sale. Except for these two, for obvious reasons. He waited for the right moment to casually drop his trump card. "She's never been broken in."
"What?" Heyes whipped around, eyes blazing as he let go of the reins and marched toward him. "Did it ever occur to you that the seller let them go at a bargain because she's trouble!"
"Yep." He was enjoying every bit of this conversation. His partner could make a horse move like a spare body part. Curry always had to work a little harder to get the same result and never quite managed to get there. It felt good to see Heyes being unable to mount for a change. "But I figured, with your riding skills, you'd have her complying in no time at all."
Heyes gave him a death glare, turned and walked away with long angry strides. The bay hesitated, taking a few steps.
"Where are you going?"
"We can't stay here all day, Kid. If I can't ride, I'll damn well walk out of here."
Curry quickly urged his gelding into action, and moved alongside. "Winter's coming, Heyes. Might not be such a bad idea to dig in somewhere."
Heyes looked up. "Up in the mountains you mean, like last year. Oh no." He turned away, his mutterings matching his irate stride. "Before you know it, snow sets in, and we'll be trapped somewhere. One of us gets sick, probably you, and then I'll have to look after you. And I'm just not in the mood. So come on!"
"If that's your way of saying it's too dangerous-"
"You know it is." Heyes interrupted him. "Until we get that Amnesty-"
"It's been a year, Heyes!" Curry bit a little harder than he intended. "Sometimes I just think we should take our chances with the law." Might take care of that restless anger I've been feeling lately.
Heyes stopped. "You mean that?"
He looked away, sighing. "I don't know. Maybe. Guess I'm frustrated is all. Look, there's still that errand you have to run for those farmers we met a while back. Next town, you go do that, while I rest up for a while."
His partner fell silent, than smiled softly. "All right."
Having expected an immediate protest, he caught his friend's eyes. "Come again?"
"Kid, in case you haven't noticed, you're getting cranky, and you getting cranky means I might blow up too. Like I said, I'm not in the mood, so you go do your thing, while I go do mine. Besides, a sheriff's much less likely to recognize us when we're not together."
Curry grimaced, torn between feeling relieved and insulted.
"A couple of days though, no more." Heyes walked off.
Curry watched Heyes walk off, the corner of his lip threatening to curl upward, because somehow his partner had managed to win the mare's respect. He still couldn't ride her, but she followed placidly in the man's footsteps.
Chapter 1
Jenny knew how to spot men from out of town. They either did their best to blend in, or kept to themselves when heading to the saloon after a day's hard work. Unlike most of the farm help who acted with no more sophistication than the cattle they tended.
Studying the newcomer while cleaning up after the guests of the hotel diner, she hoped his disposition wouldn't spoil his good looks. You're too curious, Her father's warning rang in her ears, too much like your grandmother. She ignored the voice and moved over to the stranger. "I hope you enjoyed your diner?"
He was as blond as she was, his hair a bundle of close-cropped curls, while hers was long and straight. He looked up, intelligent blue eyes warming his face. "I sure did, ma'am. You made this?"
She smiled. "I cook every now and then, it helps keep the bread on the table." He wore a gun and holster, standard issue nowadays, a blue shirt with light pants and brown leather vest completed the picture. "I couldn't help but notice you're a stranger to these parts. I'm anxious to hear news or stories from out of town. Can I ask you some questions?"
He took a deep breath and sat back. A cautious smile accompanied the light-hearted answer. "Well now that depends on the question, Miss …"
"Jennifer May Curtis." She took his handshake. "But you can call me Jenny."
"All right," his smile widened. "Glad to meet you Jenny. The name is Jones. Thaddeus Jones."
Taking in the girl's innocent appearance, Curry judged she could be no more than nineteen years old. Although not too young to pose a threat, he felt like spending the evening in simple conversation without having to exert extreme caution. "Please, sit down."
She eyed the door to the kitchen, a spark of deviance gracing her features before she took the seat in front of him. "Mister Jones, what's it like out there?"
"Ma'am?" She sure was direct. He didn't quite understand what she wanted to know, though.
She awarded his bewilderment with an explanation. "I meant outside of this town."
Curry only read curiosity in her eyes and decided to tell the truth. "Hard and unforgiving. Not as wild as it used to be, but it's still rough country." Of course being wanted by all and sundry, didn't help matters. Always on his guard, he played it safe. "It's nothing for a girl like you, Miss."
She sighed. "Yes, that's what they all say. I've never been out of town. I grew up on a ranch not far from here. It's all I've ever known. My father keeps me well protected, and since manages to keep trouble outside its walls, so to speak, I often wonder what it's like out there."
"So you help out where you can." Curry got the feeling she felt confined.
"It gives me the chance to meet people." Upon noticing his frown, she cocked her head. "Your not one of those men who're opposed to girls doing anything other than cooking and cleaning, are you?"
He grinned at her sudden offensiveness and raised his hands. "No ma'am. Whatever suits you is fine by me."
Her eyes softened. "My father disagrees. He says I'm too much like his mother. She always had the urge to wander off into the unknown. But he says that if this job keeps me from wandering off, it'll have to do."
Curry nodded. Just like me when I was young. The memory brought back images laced with pain still as vivid as if they had happened yesterday. It was a night he would never forget. He rarely talked about it. Not even his partner knew all the details.
His father stumbled inside, one hand clutched around the knob of the old wooden door leading to the living room of their small farm. His mother cried out in horror. All Curry could do was sit on the floor; his hand clutching the wooden train his old man had carved out for him.
He stared incomprehensibly at all the blood.
His older brother Raymond moved to help, blocking his view. Ray tried to support his father, but the man fell down, right in front of his train set; the wooden cars coloring a dark red.
He was just a little boy then. How old had he been? Eight? Nine? He didn't remember. His father had died that night, and his mother strayed from the straight path to keep him and his brother fed. He'd learned to survive from her. He remembered her excitement, her curiosity, her love, but most of all he recalled her sadness. She died shortly after another border war skirmish washed over their farm. The same war that had killed his old man.
Walking outside the law, helped him deal with his loss, helped him survive.
"What about you? What brings you to town?" Jenny's question startled him out of his thoughts.
"We was told about a job here. Since we needed the money, we decided to give it a try."
"We?"
"A friend of mine." He didn't elaborate. "What about your mother?"
A sad look crossed her features. "She died a couple of years back. My father is all I have left. He raised me well, but her death changed him."
Curry wondered why she spoke to him about her troubles. Maybe that was it? He would be gone in a couple of days, so it didn't matter what she said. Besides, there was something about her telling him he could trust her. He frowned. That was unusual.
"He's really intolerant when it comes to strangers."
He managed to sound innocently enough. "Oh?"
"Outlaws. He hates them."
Hiding his shock with skill, he made a mental note never to run into her father and pasted a look of relief on his face. "Oh."
"I'm surprised you didn't get into trouble with Sheriff Cameron yet?"
"Ma'am?" The mere mention of a sheriff caused a shiver to run up his spine.
"He's a friend of my dad's. Unfortunately, his suspicious attitude rubbed off on Cameron." Oblivious to the alarm bells going off in Curry's mind, she went on. "So, now the sheriff's cross checking every drifter coming through town. You haven't met him yet?"
"Uh No." Oh, he'd heard of the name. They made it a point to check out a town's current law enforcer before riding in. Just in case the sheriff would recognize them on sight. Then no 'alias' was going to help them.
"Cameron told me everyone's got something to hide."
Careful to keep his expression blank, he forced calmness into his voice. "Most strangers are simple hard working folk, you know. Drifting through town, looking for a job and a place to stay."
"My father swears most of them are outlaws. I take it you don't agree?"
"Now I'm not saying I run into the often, but when I do, I find that for the most part, their just folk who're down on their luck." Why was he even answering these questions?
"When you do talk to the sheriff, maybe you can convince him of that. Ease him and my father's worries?" She smiled sweetly.
So that's what this was all about. She wanted someone to help get her father of her back. Quite expertly, she pushed him into doing it. With her pretty looks and easy disposition it might have worked on any other guy. Lucky for him he happened to have a partner who all but invented the words: 'subtle manipulation.' "I don't think I'll be able to help you out, Jenny. I have an errand to run in the morning."
"But-"
"Look, Jenny, what if I was anything other than an honest man? Questions like that can get you into trouble. Now if you'll excuse me." This wasn't the best way to cut the conversation short, but he never was much of a talker. She'd probably be more suspicious now than ever. Doing his best to ignore the temper rising behind her blue eyes, he stood up and tipped his hat. "G'night, Miss."
To her credit, she didn't voice her obvious indignation at being ditched like this. Instead, she sounded deceptively calm. "It was nice talking to you, mister Jones."
He nodded and left for the saloon.
A whiff of smoke lingered in the air.
Hannibal Heyes eased his horse in a trot over the small sandy path that slithered through rocky country. The sweet odour of a farmstead's stove kindled a long forgotten memory of a fireplace, and smiling faces. He couldn't remember how long it'd been since he recalled the warmth of his childhood. A long time ago. Too long, Curry would say.
Dismissing the unwanted memory, he straightened in his saddle, gauged from the wind where the farm could be and turned his mare in the opposite direction. She snorted in obvious discontent. Heyes felt for her, she already must have had visions of a decent stable with good, proper hay. Come to think of it, he could do with some food and sleep too, but he only relied on other people's hospitality as a last resort. Besides, he was due back this evening and with what he'd just earned for running the errand, he and Curry could now afford to pay for the hotel room they had already rented. Maybe more if he played his cards right.
The sound of small rocks skittering over hard ground made him whip around. Small dots of four men on horses neared from over the last rim he'd skirted. It was the horses that made his stomach do a back flip. Two blacks, one palomino and a grey. He started, forcing his mare into a feverish run serving only to escape his pursuers. Sure enough, a second later, the threatening rumble of thundering hooves merged with that of his own horse. No matter how many times he'd ran from the sheriff, a posse, some group of law or non law-biding citizens, the adrenaline coursing through his body couldn't drown out the fear that always jump started a manic flight. Someday, he wouldn't be fast enough, someday, someone who wanted that ten thousand dollar reward on his head would get lucky. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder. His pursuers moved fast.
Too fast.
Hardening his resolve, he urged an even more frantic run out of his already strained mare. The loud rumble of hooves increased until they encompassed all but the pounding of his heart in his ears.
He kept to the rugged terrain, chose shallow gorges and steep pathways, the mare giving all he demanded of her. They closed in, kept coming. When he took a quick look over his shoulder a sick feeling entered his stomach, the possibility sinking in that maybe today his luck had ran out.
TBC