This was short story written for a challenge "Calling the Bluff" early in my writing attempts for ASJ.
Calling the Bluff
By Nell McKeon
"Heyes? Heyes, you see anybody in the cells?" Kid Curry hissed from the corner of the back alley as his eyes darted up and down the narrow dirt thoroughfare, searching for any sign of movement by the dim light of a quarter moon.
"No, they're empty." The barely visible figure slipped from one shadow to the deeper shadow of the jail's back doorway. Flattening himself against the sturdy wooden door, he pulled his lock pick from his vest pocket. Quickly and quietly he set to work and in a matter of mere minutes, Hannibal Heyes was gesturing to his partner to come join him.
The two experienced thieves moved confidently into the dark building, closing the door noiselessly behind them. They let their eyes adjust to the lowered light level before advancing past the two cells and into the sheriff's office, Curry moving to take his place at the front window, watching for any movement along the main street.
Heyes placed the small desk lamp on the floor behind the old battered sheriff's desk and lit it, hurriedly adjusting the flame as low as possible. He competently searched the drawers, removing several sheets of letterhead paper, an envelope, a pen, a bottle of ink, a pair of handcuffs and silently crowing with delight, appropriated a brand new, shiny Elk Creek Deputy's badge.
"Okay, Kid."
Curry glanced back into the room in time to catch his partner's look of yearning at the ancient safe, sitting forlornly in the corner.
"Heyes, we don't got time for fun, besides that old thing isn't any kind of challenge. Extinguish the flame and let's get out of here."
With a sigh, Heyes did just that.
Leaving the jail without a trace, the two men crept undetected through the back alley to where they had left their horses. Mounted, Curry gave one last look around before nodding to his partner and kicking his gelding into motion .The two thieves left Elk Creek in the dead of night without their presence ever being known.
Curry stood absently sipping lukewarm water from his canteen, gauging the position of the brilliant morning sun in the cloudless sky, his eyebrows drawn into a tight V. The horses had their heads down, taking advantage of the tufts of green grass growing alongside a small creek in a grove of aspens close to the road.
"The gang should be back in the hole by now. Don'tcha think?"
"Should be, if everything went as planned. And they better not have spent a dollar of the haul until we get back; that is, until all of us get back." Heyes' voice carried the force of his considerable determination as he dug around in his saddle bags.
Kid snorted, "Well, the first part sure didn't work out as planned; let's hope the second part does, 'cos I sure don't want to spend twenty years with Wheat and Kyle in the next prison cell."
Heyes looked up at his skeptical partner, a hint of wounded pride coloring his warm, brown eyes. "Kid, don't tell me you're losing faith in my plans."
"No, Heyes, the plan is a good one and I've got faith in you playin' your part. It's the rest of us I'm worried about."
"Don't worry, if you weren't an outlaw, you'd be a natural lawman. Now, if Wheat and Kyle can just keep their traps shut, by this time tomorrow we'll be half way to Devil's Hole."
"Hey, you better let me do that. The last thing we need is the sheriff to telegraph Elk Creek because he can't read your handwritin'."
"I can do it. My writing isn't that bad. You can read it," Heyes declared as he smoothed the piece of letterhead on top of a book set on a flat-topped, large rock.
He looked up in annoyance when his pen struck granite, his partner having snatched the bottle of ink right out from under his nose in the blink of an eye.
"I can only read it 'cos I know how you think and you can only read it 'cos you know what you wanted to say and make it up again if you have to read it back. Now quit arguin', we're runnin' out of time. I'll write, you dictate."
Kid Curry folded the just-written document carefully, inserted it into an envelope and placed it along with Heyes' Schofield in his saddle bag. Kid sighed and forced down his increasing feelings of anxiety and unease. He straightened up and turned from his dark bay, his eyes widening in surprise when he caught sight of his partner.
"What's the matter, Kid, I'm just gonna give you a few pointers."
"I don't need pointers, Heyes. I've seen enough lawmen up close. It's that damn star that gives me the creeps. You'd better unpin it from your vest and hand it over along with the cuffs so I can put them on you before…" Curry suddenly straightened up, cocked his head and made a chopping motion with his hand to forestall the response Heyes was ready to make.
Both partners' faces fell as five men thundered around the bend and rode into view. Stars shining proudly on the chests of three hard-looking men, two of which were leading the mounts of captured members of the Devil's Hole Gang, wrists bound tightly to their saddle horns.
Two sets of eyes stared down the dusty road in shared disbelief. The timing of the whole job has been off - they're early, damn it!
The riders slowed their horses and the lead rider drew his six gun. The two bound outlaws raised their heads and while the older mustached man managed to keep his expression neutral, the smaller, younger one couldn't disguise the hope that flashed across his grubby face and let out a startled gasp.
Heyes and Curry both shot barely perceptible glances at Heyes' chest and hands before meeting in quick unspoken agreement. Not the first and best choice but on to Plan B. They turned in unison to meet the silent lawmen who were suspiciously studying them.
"Well, ain't this a stroke of good luck. Here are just the men I'm trying to meet up with and earlier than I hoped. I'm Deputy John Hotchkiss out of Elk Creek."
Heyes pasted on a huge smile of relief and didn't acknowledge the quick thinking of his partner who had unobtrusively slipped his Colt into Heyes' holster.
Heyes stuck out his right hand as he walked forward.
"Aw, shucks, let me put these back on my prisoner. I let him take care of business by himself, he had to, you know, and that's more personal than I wanted to get and didn't want to deal with the smell if he ain't too neat and got the cuffs soiled, if I left them on one wrist, if you know what I mean. Since you got your gun out already, you can keep him covered for me although me and him got an understandin' goin' from when he spent a few hours with us in Elk Creek. Sheriff Barton don't tolerate no bad behavior from no-good thievin' outlaws. We don't care none even if they are members of the infamous Devil's Hole Gang, especially not nobody named Fred Brown. What kinda outlaw name is that? It's got no imagination. No wonder I ain't never read about him in those dime novels."
Heyes put his back to the lawmen and clicked the handcuffs onto Curry's wrists, careful not to close them too tightly. He deftly moved his lock pick from his vest pocket to Kid's vest pocket while pretending to pat him down. He continued his monologue to the silent watchers.
"Gotta make sure he didn't pick up any sharp sticks or rocks while he was taking a dump, now don't I. He's clean," Heyes announced.
Wheat and Kyle, in spite of the situation, snickered. At the blue-eyed glare from the handcuffed gunman their expression returned to appropriately serious.
All three lawmen had their guns pointing at the two men, mostly aiming at the blond, but they were clearly deciding on the veracity of dark-haired man's story.
The older, leather-faced man, who appeared in charge, rode a little forward, signaling his companions to remain on guard. He met the steady brown eyes of Deputy Hotchkiss. "Hotchkiss, from Elk Creek is it?"
Heyes nodded affirmatively.
"Okay, Hotchkiss. I'm Sheriff Tanner from Rock Ridge and these men are Tom Norton and Adam Davis, my deputies. I have a few questions. Why are you trying to meet up with us and do you have any proof you are who you say you are? These are members of the Devil's Hole Gang and they're known to take care of their own."
Heyes smiled, nodded his head in approval at the sheriff's questions and cooperatively answered, "Those are mighty fine questions, Sheriff, especially when dealing with the Devil's Hole Gang. You can't be too careful now, can you? Of course, I have documents with me. Sheriff Barton, he's feeling poorly at the moment, on account of him having the grippe that's been goin' around, wrote it all in a letter I was to present to you when I met up with the posse outta Rock Ridge. If it's okay with you, I'll get the letter from my saddle bags, real slow like so no one gets upset and jumpy."
Sheriff Tanner waved his left hand to the tethered horses but kept his gun aimed in the general direction of Heyes and the Kid. He glanced quickly over his shoulder at the still-mounted deputies and started to issue orders, "We might as well rest and water the horses. Get the prisoners off their mounts. Sit them down at the side of the road. Adam, you keep an eye on them while Tom waters the horses. So, Hotchkiss, you think you can tell me what you're doing here, briefly? We don't have all day and I want to get back to Rock Ridge while it's still light."
Heyes had slowly walked to Kid's gelding, opened the saddle bag and retrieved the forged letter with deliberate and careful movements.
"No problem, ya can read it yourself in a moment. But I can tell ya. We got the telegram 'bout the bank robbery and askin' for assistance in searchin' and apprehendin' the responsible miscreants. Well, we just rustled up our own little posse and scouted the trails back to Devils' Hole. Sure 'nuff we got lucky and ran across them riding back to the hole. After some hard ridin' we managed to nab this fella here when his horse stumbled and threw him. We reckon Heyes and Curry were ridin' towards the front. My heart just 'bout broke watchin' twenty thousand dollars and the honest folks' money ride outta reach."
Kid shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on his boots in order to hide the threatening smile. He couldn't help thinking that perhaps Plan B was the right way to go after all. He could never shovel the B***s**t as readily and smoothly as his partner.
The eyes of the younger, lighter brown-haired deputy, guarding Wheat and Kyle, were slowly glazing and he strained to keep up with the tide of words flowing from the Elk Creek Deputy. The sheriff impatiently dismounted, handing his reins over to the darker brown-haired deputy. He swiped the letter from Heyes' outstretched hand, ripped open the envelope, unfolded it and began to scan the contents.
Heyes took this as his cue to continue his story, "See, us law in Elk Creek is kinda short-handed right now, with the sheriff, like I said, feelin' poorly, and me the only deputy. Elk Creek's a real peaceable itty bitty town and we thought that Rock Ridge bein' in a more civilized area and a bigger town would be much better equipped to foil any rescue attempts by the Devil's Hole Gang. 'Sides it was your town bank that got robbed and I'd just need to escort this sorry excuse for an outlaw there anyway. So why not do it now, instead of later and if I met up with you all then so much the better, more protection, right?"
The hard-bitten lawman looked up from the letter in his hand to the badge pinned on Heyes' chest. His flinty, gray eyes narrowed as he turned to look searchingly at the two bound men sitting on the ground under guard. The older outlaw met his eyes with defiance but the younger man was working his chaw and darting quick glances at the blond cuffed thief.
"Hotchkiss, that all sounds very reasonable and convincing but…" Sheriff Tanner's gun was now trained straight at the shiny Elk Creek deputy badge. "…that nervous little fella seemed a little less nervous and a wee bit hopeful at the sight of you and your prisoner. Now, I'm thinking, why would that be?"
Heyes cut in, "No reason that I can think of Sheriff, except maybe he's glad to see Fred Brown here alive."
Kid frowned then raised his head to better follow the developing situation. He was grateful that Heyes had cuffed his hands in front, which allowed for a little more maneuvering, should it become necessary. He refrained from looking at his partner but tried to signal Wheat to get ready to follow their lead with a tilt of his head and a look. Kyle had turned red and kept his head down, his shoulders slumped and his chewing increased in intensity.
"Oh, I'm sure he's happy to see that man alive but I don't think he's Fred Brown. In fact, I haven't heard of a Fred Brown being in the Devil's Hole Gang."
"Well, that's the name he gave us but now that ya mention it, a lotta outlaws use other names, whattaya call them, an alias, that's it, and Fred Brown could be an alias."
Heyes stepped up to Kid and got in his face. "Ya usin' an alias, boy? It's a dumb one at that, no imagination. What's your given name ,you thievin' scum?"
Tanner stepped closer to both men, his gun still aimed at Heyes. "I'm gonna bet his name is Kid Curry. He fits the description - Five foot eleven, one hundred sixty-five pounds, blond hair, blue eyes and looks barely out of his teens. Curry's supposed to be twenty-five but rumor says one reason he's called Kid is he looks younger. And what's more, I'm wondering if you're Hannibal Heyes - dark hair, brown eyes, late twenties, same height and a little thinner than the Kid. I think you better hand over your gun now."
Heyes' eyes hardened and he managed to look genuinely affronted as he met the steady gaze of the suspicious lawman while surreptitiously giving a calming pat on the arm to the increasingly tense Kid. He slowly drew Kid's Colt from his own holster, kept his hand off the hammer and the barrel pointing at the ground but did not hand the revolver to Tanner.
"I don't know if this here is Kid Curry or not, but I do know I'm not Hannibal Heyes. Ya read the letter from Sheriff Barton. Now where would Hannibal Heyes get Sheriff Barton's stationary? 'Sides, that deputy with the horses fits Hannibal Heyes' description. I bet half the men around here fit Hannibal Heyes' description."
Tanner suddenly smiled slyly. "There's one way to find out now, isn't there? Heyes and Curry are known to be real protective of each other, almost like brothers, they say. They're also wanted dead or alive. Hannibal Heyes wouldn't shoot his partner. Why don't we see if that's true?"
Kid and Heyes shot rapid glances at each other. Is this for real or is he bluffing? Kid's blue eyes darkened with anger, while Heyes stared at the smirking sheriff in slightly stunned disbelief before holstering the Colt.
"Let me get this straight, sheriff, ya want me to shoot an unarmed man, who might or might not be wanted dead or alive."
Five sets of eyes concentrated on the building confrontation between the sheriff and the Elk Creek Deputy, the threat of deadly danger suddenly becoming immediate.
Both partners were using all their considerable skill at reading people and situations to gauge the seriousness of the sheriff's intent.
"Yep, I'm positive he's Kid Curry; the question I'm trying to decide is whether you're Hannibal Heyes. Shoot him and I'd be inclined to believe you're Hotchkiss."
"I can't shoot an unarmed man. That's murder," Heyes stated with utter conviction.
The three lawmen from Rock Ridge snickered. The deputy guarding Wheat and Kyle landed a swift kick to Kyle's side. "It's doin' the taxpayers a favor, getting rid of scum like this; you'd be saving the cost of a trial and a hanging."
"It's prison, we never killed nobody," Wheat muttered. Kyle's head bobbed up and down in agreement as he spat tobacco at the boots of the deputy who was securing the horses. Deputy Adam Davis shoved his gun up against Wheat's temple, causing both outlaws to keep their mouths shut.
"Where's the Kid's gun? And the key to the cuffs?" Tanner asked as he started towards Heyes' and Curry's horses.
Kid spoke for the first time, his voice hard and controlled, "Hotchkiss took it and shoved it in his saddle bag."
Tanner found the Schofield, checked the load, slipped several bullets from his own gun belt and , with his back to the group ,and the revolver half in and half out of the saddle bag, fiddled with it.
Is he loading it, Kid? Can you tell?
Don't know, Heyes.
"The cuff key, Hotchkiss - or should I say Heyes?" demanded Sheriff Tanner.
Heyes silently handed over the key. He rapidly assessed the situation, of which he was losing control, and not liking it one bit.
Tanner removed the handcuffs from Curry and shoved the Schofield in Curry's empty holster. "There, he's armed," he announced with a malevolent chuckle.
Heyes adjusted his hat and schooled himself not to wipe his forehead. Never let them see you sweat. "Ya want me draw on a man ya think is Kid Curry? Are ya nuts? No one is as fast as the Kid."
"If he's the Kid and guns you down, he'll be dead before you hit the ground and Deputy Hotchkiss will be a name for the history books as the man the Kid killed right before he died. If he's the Kid and doesn't shoot you, well, then you'll be joining the rest of the Devil's Hole Gang in my nice jail cells, the same place you'll be if you don't shoot, Mr. Heyes, that is, if I'm feeling charitable and don't shoot you both. If he's Fred Brown and you really are Deputy John Hotchkiss, then you got a chance. How fast are you?"
Kid laid his right hand on the butt of Heyes' revolver, snug alongside his right thigh. "Can I check my gun?"
Tanner raised his own pistol and aimed it the blond. "Go ahead."
Curry checked the load, shot a sideways look at the grinning sheriff and placed the Schofield back in his holster as he walked a suitable distance before squaring off against his partner.
Both men stood with feet planted shoulder width apart, the blond visibly more relaxed than the dark-haired man, and hands at their sides. Calm, expressionless blue eyes met very dark brown eyes.
Wheat and Kyle sat still as statues, neither knowing what the partners would do. One deputy kept his gun trained on the gang members while the second deputy and the sheriff had the gunmen in their sights. The air seemed to still and sounds faded away.
A dark eyebrow raised and brown eyes flicked towards the sheriff and deputies. Can we take them fast enough?
Curry frowned and gave a tiny jerk of his head. No!
I can't shoot you, Kid.
You better, otherwise we're both dead.
Kid twitched his left shoulder and settled into his stance. He suddenly realized he would have to draw first; this was way out of the realm of Heyes' planning or experience.
The sheriff closely scrutinized the situation and involuntarily shuddered upon seeing the blue eyes turn glacial.
In a flash too fast to see, Kid Curry drew. Heyes followed a split second later.
Shoot, Heyes! Damn it, shoot me!
BANG!