Smoke & Water, Part two

by Wichita Red

Humidity hung so heavy, it draped the landscape like a shimmering blanket under the glow of the hot, evening sun. The men of the posse grumbling about the heat, their shirts sticking to them like flypaper and ponied behind Sheriff Eli Carter, like some errant child, Heyes could feel his own face beginning to sunburn.

Leaning out to get a look at his swollen knee, sweat ran down Heyes' brow, the salt burning his eyes and his gaze shifted to the crushed, muddy Stetson, still hanging from his saddle horn. 'Wish I'd put it on before they tied my hands,' he thought, wallowing some in his self-misery when his gut twisted so tight he felt like he might hurl. 'Damnation, here I am festering over my own needs, when I should have already broken free and found Kid. He needs me, I can feel it...he...he-.' Heyes swallowed hard, telling himself the lump in his throat was because he needed a drink. But, he knew better, the lump had been there growing tighter and harder, ever since he'd seen Kid catch a bullet and his body buck up against the sky.

Sheriff Eli looked over, shaking his head, "Always heard how you ran on like a guinea hen and here we been riding a good while and I ain't heard a cluck out of you."

Licking his lips, Heyes put forth a small smile, "Sheriff, who is it you think I am, anyways?"

Eli looked straight into Heyes' face and without a hint of humor, stated, "why you're the great and wily Hannibal Heyes whose worth ten-thousand dollars."

"Me?" Heyes responded, sounding adequately surprised, "Wouldn't that be something, to be Hannibal Heyes that is? But, I ain't him."

"Oh, you are." Eli responded, pointing a finger at Heyes. "I was on a train you robbed. So was..." he jabbed the finger toward the tuberculosis, thin man riding on Heyes' other side, "..John. Fact was, we was both standing right close to you. So close, we overheard every word of that right friendly conversation you had with the Engineer. Hell, it tickled me the way you apologized, over the way the torn up rails was going to cause that Engineer's crew some back ache repairing 'em."

John grunted and spit a glob of chaw, that sailed just past the toe of Heyes' boot. "It were me who spotted you back in Shelby. I recognized you right off. Never did get me a good look at Curry, so I wouldn't know him from Moses. But, that don't matter none, 'cause, I got me a damn good look at you."

Heyes smiled larger, "I been mistaken a few times for that no good outlaw. Truth is, I would like to meet up with him, myself, and knock 'em down a notch or two. See with me, all you done caught is a married man with a sick wife and child at home. And, with this twisted leg, I am not going to be able to work hardly a lick. But, I ain't worried about me, 'cause, I been sitting here thinkin' on my cousin. I know you sent men after him, but they haven't showed. So, I figure we need to turn around and give them a hand. Hey, y'all would like my cousin, Thaddeus. He is real good man. And, I am sure he is in need of assistance. I tell you, Sheriff, you would really like him. Why Thaddeus is a good, up-right citizen. Besides, what am I to tell his bride-to-be? Wait, did I tell y'all yet, but he's fixin' to be married next week-"

John brayed out a laugh that not only spattered a spray of spittle into the air but also revealed a mouth full of decaying teeth.

Catching a whiff of the rot, Heyes' nose wrinkled up tight.

Seeing his reaction, John leaned over, slapping Heyes on the shoulder, "You is right funny and damn good at spinning out a yarn." Turning to unbuckle the flap on his saddlebag, John spit another slimy, stream of chaw juice, narrowly missing the side of Heyes' mare. From the bag, John retrieved a pistol. "Now, Heyes, I would never have taken a bet that you was a Schofield man. Still, I'll double-down that I can sell this piece for a pretty price. But, the real gem is..." John nodded at Heyes, shoving the Schofield away and removing a far too familiar, well-cared for nickel-plated, six-shooter.

Seeing it, Heyes' heart set to pounding. Pounding so hard, he thought the others might be able to see it moving beneath his shirt.

"Hell, look at it. This look the firearm of fine, up-standing citizen, Eli?"

Sheriff Eli Carter shook his head, "You find it where he fell?"

"I did, well, a bit down the hill." John laughed, popping out a scrawny arm to point at the far horizon. "A true man-killers piece. Hell, I'll be able to charge a fee, a sizeable one, I don't know...maybe, to just hold it. Can you imagine the crowd it will draw? The great, dead Kid Curry's Peacemaker." Lowering the Colt, John leaned over till his face was nearly touching Heyes' "see, even a legend becomes useless when he's shot his load." Sneering, John stared hard into Heyes' face, drinking in the cold pain he saw etched there. And, placing a hand atop of Heyes' tied hands, John whispered, "I see you, Heyes, see right through." Then tucking the Colt in his waistband, John laughed, almost evilly, "So, you go right on, fibbin' to us how you ain't really Kid Curry's bestest pal in the world...Hannibal Heyes"

Lifting his chin, Heyes arched a brow and rolling out a twisted, impish grin, said casually, "now, I'm not saying, I am Hannibal Heyes or anything; however I will say...you best sleep light."As he spoke, Heyes' grin shifted becoming tight and hard as his face. "Cause, if that is Kid Curry's pistol..then he'll be coming to take it back. And, like you said, he's a real man-killer, ain't he?"

John veered his horse away, looking left and right, almost as if he expected to see Kid rise up from the tall, prairie grass.

Watching the exchange, Sheriff Carter snorted. He'd always seen John as a bit of bully, blow-hard and it was enjoyable seeing him cowed, especially by a wounded and bound man. But then again, this man was a legend in his own time and Sheriff Carter had no doubts, by the intimidating look on his captive's face, that he had in his hands the leader of the Devil's Hole Gang. And, thinking this he laughed, a low, warm comfortable, belly laugh. "There now Mister Heyes, that be some of the spirit, I've heard tell of."

Double-quick, Heyes' expression loosened switching to a disguise of playful, innocence, "I tell you Sheriff, you're going to have egg all over you when find out you got the wrong man. And, I pray your men find Thaddeus, 'cause that'll go a might worse for you, if he ain't found. So, why risk something like that? When we all, could turn around together and join in on the hunt for him."

The Sheriff held up his hand, "I have three capable men searching for 'em already and I am damn positive, they ain't in need of your assistance."

"But, I'm a good tracker." Heyes said, throwing out what he knew was his most charming smile. "You may find this hard to believe, but I was champion tracker of all southern Utah."

"That may be, but Mister Heyes, there ain't no way on this God's green earth that I am letting you get anywhere nears your partner. But, you can keep on weaving your tales. 'Cause, I find 'em entertainin', still..." He waved the shotgun, that he held on his thigh, at the men around them, "...we ain't followin' a word that falls from your mouth and we all plan on guardin' you like Fort Knox. See, we all know who you are and we all, also know, you've enjoyed spending piles of banknotes. But, y'alls reward is more money than any damn one of us has ever seen. So, you can be blamed sure, we ain't about to let you slip away."

Heyes' smile faltered and twisting in his saddle, he looked back; a soft frown settling around his mouth and eyes that stripped the brassy confidence from his face, revealing the fear, he felt deep in his gut.