Like Lightning From the Sky

(Part 3 of 5)


Disclaimer: Any resemblance to the real Wyoming Territorial Prison, or the life that the inmates lived within its walls, is purely coincidental.


Wyoming Territorial Prison…

The night had stars, but from his cell, he could only see a few of the millions that he knew were out there. Even those that he could see remained obstructed by the iron bars that stood like sentries on the window. Taking a deep breath, he again resigned himself to never again realizing the beauty that such a sight offered.

It had been six months in prison. Six months of waking up every morning to do his job. Six months of breakfast that consisted of little more than hash and grits, a lunch that would barely satisfy a child and a dinner that wasn't much better. But they were meals, accepted gratefully. His cell was dreary, a small cage, barely as wide as he was tall. His cot creaked with each movement, his cellmate's even worse. All of the cots on the hall were that way, so a night did not go by that he didn't drift off to dream to the sound of metal screeching as each man tried to find his comfort spot.

If he were honest, prison wasn't quite as bad as he had imagined. But then, he got lucky. As he rolled onto the prison yard that first day, someone much more important was rolling out – the now-ex-warden. Heyes had barely been processed and given his uniform when a short man entered the holding cell. From first glance, Heyes knew the man was nervous. The man continued to push his spectacles back up on his nose, and would take his hands from his pockets only to return them there again. His tie was uncomfortable and he would loosen it, just to tighten it once more.

Heyes stood there, unsure of what to expect, taken aback at seeing someone within the prison walls so obviously bothered.

"Mr. Heyes…" The man would start. "Mr. Heyes, we have an unusual situation here, very unusual…" His hands went in his pockets, then out; then holding them together, as if the connection gave the man strength. "You see, Warden Jeffries has, uh…" He looked to the ceiling, searching for the words. "Well, he's decided to take a leave of absence."

Heyes was confused on why he was allowed to be privy to this information, but stood silent, nonetheless.

"You see, Mr. Heyes, Tom, I mean, Warden Jeffries has put us in a bit of a situation and I fear we need to ask you for help."

Heyes tilted his head in interest, but still chose to stay silent. He knew too well, that silence often brought a stronger advantage than all the words in the English language.

The man shook his head and turned to the man to his left, whose hands had remained clasped behind him. "Darnit Fred, isn't there another way?"

Fred looked down at the man, "Sam, it'll take two days to get a locksmith out here, and there's still no guarantee they will be able to open it. The telegraph from Sheriff Trevors stated that he could be trusted better than anyone else in here. After he gets it open, we will get it replaced, but we have got to get those keys."

Sam ran his hand through his hair and again pushed back his spectacles. "Fine, Mr. Heyes, we need your help."

He was led down the hall, two heavily armed men on each side of him, Sam and Fred led the way. They made a left, then a right. With every door or hallway they passed, Heyes made a mental note of everything he saw. The doors that held no locks, the hallways that had shadows from where the lamps couldn't light up the amount of space within. He wasn't sure why he was taking note of everything, perhaps it was just that old habits die hard, perhaps it was just that he had no freedom and this was the one way, the only way that he felt like he had any control.

The door was at the end of the hall, it was rustic, metal with a metal frame. Heyes glanced up at the top, a sliver of light shone through a crack at the top. It was uneven. Whether it was poor craftsmanship or age, he wasn't sure, but something had unleveled the door. He was amazed that he was the only one that noticed, but again, he would notice these types of things, it was this quality that made him the best. Or at least that is what once made him the best. As they entered the room, it was bright. Two large windows let in the sun; the room was cluttered. A desk with too many papers sat to one side, two wooden chairs perched in front of it; book cases lined two of the walls, filled with books from authors he had never heard about. Behind the desk, he saw it. A Brooker safe, A series; one of Brooker's first models. One of the first safes he had ever opened.

Sam leaned against the desk. "Mr. Heyes, we are about to ask you to do something that we would never imagine asking an inmate. The mere thought of this, quite frankly, turns my stomach. But we are in a desperate situation. As I said, Warden Jeffries has decided to… pursue other interests," He gave a knowing glance at the other man, Fred, and Heyes' could only imagine what those interests could have been. "In his rush to leave, you see, he forgot to leave us the combination." Heyes tried to hide his amusement. "That is where we bring you in. We need those keys and we can't wait on the locksmith, so quite simply, you are our only hope." The man stood upright, "Now, mind you, we will be replacing this safe in a couple of days, so even if you were to memorize the combination, it won't do you no good. But we would be mighty appreciative if you could help us, this one time."

Heyes nodded, "Well, sir, I'd be glad to." The man started to turn around. "For a price." Heyes smiled a smile that he knew others hated, it was the smile that made no mistake - he had the upper hand.

"What price?"

Heyes shifted to one foot, "All the inmates have jobs, right?"

Sam slowly nodded, "Yes…"

"I want an easy one. Breaking rocks all day in the sun, just doesn't work for me."

Beet red in the face, Sam stormed to the door and turned around, "That's ludicrous. No inmate has ever walked into this prison and demanded what work detail he should or shouldn't get."

Heyes smiled again, "Perhaps, but you've also never asked an inmate to open up the warden's safe. Now, if you'd rather wait until that locksmith gets here, that's fine. But it takes a certain talent to open up a Broker without dynamite. I haven't met many men with it."

"Fine, fine. Would laundry duty suffice?"

Swallowing his smile, Heyes nodded, "That would be fine. Now, if you wouldn't mind?" Heyes held out his hands to the guards so that they could be untied.

Kneeling in front of the safe, he pressed his ear to the door. Listening to the soft sounds of the tumblers, for a moment Heyes drifted off back to the banks and trains, his partner at his back, as he once again opened a safe to find treasures inside.

He had forgotten just how distinct the A Series was. Its tumblers clicked with each turn, with a slight change when he had hit the right number, hearing it fall into place. The first number took him only one slow turn to find, but he didn't want it to seem too easy. So he turned the dial the other way and heard the second number also fall into place. On the third turn he went past it, by just a number or two; just enough so that he could pull the lever, feign frustration, and restart the process. Not wanting to betray his reputation, it was his third attempt that he let the third and final tumbler find its home and with all the confidence that he knew he deserved, pulled the lever to its final destination and swung the door open, revealing the safe's contents. Heyes leaned against the wall as Sam swept down and pulled a group of keys from within and quickly closed the door, as if in doing so Heyes would forget the combination – 12-8-45, someone's birthday, he was sure.

That was almost six months ago, and true to his word, Heyes had been given laundry duty. It was a job that he considered inane, but preferred over breaking rocks or any of the other more difficult labor. He spent his days folding the shirts and pants of both the guards and the men. After a month, he was even given the responsibility of taking the clothes to the storage closet where they were held until needed.

Once a day, the men were let out, behind the prison was a large yard, where they were able to congregate and mainly just breathe fresh air, something that was markedly missing inside the prison walls.

For now, the day was over, and after returning to his cell, he just hoped for one more day to be over; to get one more day closer to the one where he could leave and never look back.

As Heyes looked up through the small window in his cell, he caught a glimpse of the evasive moon just as it ducked behind a passing cloud. For a moment, he wondered where the Kid might be, would he be inside a saloon, its doors lighted by that same moon? Perhaps, instead, laughing as he walked a saloon girl up a flight of stairs. Or was he sleeping under the stars, staring up at the same wonder? Heyes hadn't let his thoughts turn to his former partner often. Just as he was sure his partner's hadn't turned to him. After a lifetime of having someone beside you, always there to lean on or to fight with, being alone was all but unbearable. The bars, the concrete walls, nothing could compare to the emptiness of just being alone.

As he turned back to the book he held in his hands, he went back over to his schedule for the coming week: sleep, breakfast, laundry duty, lunch, laundry duty, break in the yard, dinner, shower, sleep. It was the same thing, every day, every week. His only reprieve from the monotony came every couple of months. Word of his performance had reached the safe companies. At the approval of the newly appointed Warden, Sam Howard, Heyes was allowed to work with them. They would bring in their new models to let him inspect them, to sit and play with the tumblers and to ultimately attempt to crack its secrets. At the end, on the ones he thought worthy, they would declare they were "Heyes Proof." A seal of approval the engineers proudly stamped on the outside. Even the prison had purchased such a safe, replacing the new one. Silently, Heyes had chuckled, amused at the attention his little talent brought.

But no such request came this week; instead it was just more of the same. The same schedule that he would be facing for the next twenty years.

He turned the page in his book when he heard his name being called. It was his cell mate, Clyde, a man that was in prison for robbing a stage, a man that always looked for a reason to get Heyes' attention. The best Heyes could assume was that it was Clyde's own lack of success in the robbing world that made him so determined to bring him down. But what he held in bravado, he lacked in everything else. His short stature made him a weak bully. Added to that, without a gun to overcome his shortcomings, he would talk a big game, but would frighten if offered the opportunity to put actions behind his words. But for some reason, the men in the surrounding cells listened to him. And that was what made Heyes give the man attention, knowing that five on one was a losing battle, no matter how small the leader might be.

"I said, Heyes! You gone deaf or something?" Clyde yelled again over his cards as he played a round of poker with the men that sat in the adjacent cell.

Unmoved, Heyes lowered his book, "What do you need Clyde? Trying to win on a two pair again?"

Clyde reminded him a lot of Wheat Carlson, loud but easily distracted.

"I just want to know why the great Hannibal Heyes won't play a hand with us? You too good for us?" The men behind him laughed. When Heyes didn't respond quickly enough, he rose, standing just at the edge of Heyes' cot, "I asked, you too good for us?"

Placing the book to the side, Heyes rose and looked down at the little man. Glancing down the hallway, he noticed the guard at the end and spoke softly, "Do you really want to do this? You sure you want to spend the night in the hole?" With a nod, he glanced back down the hallway. Clyde turned to follow his glare. "Why don't you go back and say whatever you want to your friends. There's no reason for us both to lose a week in the yard, just for a fight you know you will lose." Heyes' eyes darkened and the man took a step back. The guard looked up, arms still tightly crossed across the chest, never once moving to intervene. Lying back on his cot, he heard the boys in the other cell congratulate Clyde on his victorious encounter against the great Hannibal Heyes. He didn't know what Clyde had said, nor did he care. All he cared about was getting through one more night. Getting one night closer till he could leave the cell, leave the men, leave the prison.


The following afternoon was no different than any other, he sat on one of the benches in the yard, contently reading as the other men walked about, also enjoying the brief moment in the sunshine. His enjoyment, however, was quickly curtailed as a shadow fell across the bench, blocking the sun from view. Looking up, it was Anthony Polk. Anthony was as big as Clyde was small. Each tried to control those around him, except Anthony could do it. His reputation had long preceded Heyes' welcome to the prison. He had once tried to join the Devil's Hole gang, but he was violent and unpredictable, two qualities that immediately rejected any candidate. It was for this reason that the gang showed no surprise a year later, when it was reported that Anthony had led a gang to rob a prominent family. In the chaos of the job shots were fired, killing a three year old. Because no one knew who fired the fatal bullet, each of the men were spared the noose and instead given life sentences.

Heyes looked up towards the man, "What do you want?"

The taller man continued to look out towards the horizon, "You know Heyes, I could help you out with Clyde."

"That's much appreciated, but I didn't realize I had a problem."

"You will soon. The boys are starting to give him a bit of a rough time about you. They say he ain't as tough as he talks. Bringing you down will help prove otherwise."

Heyes pursed his lips, "And what would this help cost me?"

"Look Heyes, you're one of the smartest men in here, we both know that. We also know being stuck in these dog cages is getting old. So, I say we put our heads together, find a way out. I've been in here longer; I know more, more about what really goes on. Stuff you don't know about. I know every weak spot in the place."

Heyes closed his book, keeping his forefinger in the spot that he was reading, "Is that so? By weak spots, I assume you mean the kitchen that has a direct exit to the stables, or the damaged gate just outside the entrance. Not to mention that there are at least three guards that are willing to look the other way for minor infractions, and then there's the one that you could probably buy off with a promise of a date with a saloon girl."

Anthony looked down, "So you do have a plan?"

Heyes stood and faced the man, "Believe it or not, Anthony, I just want to spend the next twenty years in peace. Besides, I don't travel with murderers." Heyes moved to walk away. Grabbing his arm, Anthony turned him back around. "Careful, the guard over there, the one by the door, isn't one to look away."

With a nod toward the suggested guard, he released Heyes' arm, only to scowl. "You'll change your mind Heyes, just pray I'm in a forgiving mood when you do."

Heyes breathed a sigh of relief, he was never a fighter, he always let Kid handle that, but once again he was reminded, Kid wasn't there and talkin' only took a fella so far.

Heyes heard the guard walk up behind him. "What was that all about?"

"Just wanted me to plan a jail break." Heyes laughed. Turning he looked into the green eyes of the guard. She was only one of two women that the prison employed. The other was the nurse. She stood at his height, strong build, but still feminine. Her cheekbones were high, her hair a deep red. She held Kid's stance, one hand never moving too far from the gun that protected her. She was fast. Even though he hadn't seen her draw, he knew she would be fast.

She looked down her nose, not amused. "Is that so? And do you plan to help him?"

"No ma'am, we're supposed to have chili for supper Friday night, can't miss that."

Without another word, she turned and walked back to the perch from which she came.


Wednesday night was his favorite night of the week. It was quiet. The warden, a religious man, had a man of faith come in every week. He would give mass and say a few words from the good book. Heyes, never having any serious leanings one way or the other, would instead opt-out and stay in his cell, reading.

As he sat in his solitude, he heard the door at the end of the hall open. Looking up, he saw her standing there. With one glance, she walked towards him, stopped just short of his cell and leaned against the bars. "Skipping again tonight? Good Lord might be slow to forgive if you keep this up."

Heyes put down his book, "If He isn't going to forgive me now, I don't see how me sitting in a room full of men is going to change His mind."

She motioned towards the book. "You're always reading."

Heyes shrugged. "Better than staring at the wall."

Sticking her hand through the cell bars, she motioned for the book. "Mind if I see it?"

Walking to the cell, Heyes handed her the book.

"I stand 'mid the roar

Of a weather-beaten shore

And I hold within my hand

Some particles of sand-

How few! and how they creep

Thro' my fingers to the deep!

My early hopes? No- they

Went gloriously away

Like lightning from the sky

At once- and so will I." She handed the book back, "Pretty deep."

Heyes shrugged as he resumed his spot on the cot, "Just something to read."

"Why are you here, Mr. Heyes?"

He didn't look up, "Robbed a bunch of banks and trains. Law didn't look too kindly on me for that."

"Why are you here, Mr. Heyes?" She asked again, undeterred.

Looking up, he attempted a smile, "Why are you here, Ms…?"

"Louise." She shrugged and looked down the hall. "Wanted to serve my country, but I couldn't do anything more than be a nurse. I knew someone that knew someone. That's why I'm here. Now that I've answered your question, you answer mine."

Heyes looked down, "Just made a mistake, that's all."

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you first came in, you watched everything. Every guard, every inmate, nothing passed without your notice." She laughed, "To be honest, a few of us had a bet on how long it would take for you to try to break out." Her smile faded, "But then it died?"

Confused, Heyes looked up, "What died?"

"The light. The fire you had when you first walked in. Now, you notice practically nothing. What happened?"

Heyes knew she was right, partially. He had stopped watching, stopped making his notes. But he still noticed some things, and they usually had to do with her. He motioned up towards his window, "That's what happened. It's been over six months since I've seen the moon without bars in front of it. I can remember wishing just for a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, and a regular meal. Now, a saddle for a pillow, and a rabbit on the fire would be worth more than all the money I ever stole. And I can't have it." Part of him wanted to add that what he wanted most was just to have a grumpy partner complaining about his coffee, at his side.

With a sad smile, she nodded, "Good night, Mr. Heyes." Turning, she walked back down the hall and left.


Another week passed; another week of hash and grits and laundry; another week of staring at the walls, at the bars, at a cloudy sky that hid any beauty that existed beyond its veil.

When she came through the door that Wednesday night Heyes felt himself smile. It had been so long since something gave him a reason to, it felt unfamiliar.

She stopped at the cell door and for a moment hesitated. Then pulling her gun out with her right hand, she opened the door with her left, the gun constantly trained on him. Confused, Heyes slowly rose, placing one hand on the bars just to his right. "We're going somewhere?"

She motioned out of the cell, "Just come on."

Complying, he made his way out, carefully glancing down at the piece. Six chamber revolver, ivory handles, shiny, well cared for.

"Just know, I'm a dead shot. I can pick off a snake before its second rattle and if you make one motion for it, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Heyes smiled again, "Oh, I believe you."

She took him through the hallway, down another to the right and then to the left. They were nearing the dinner hall, but turned just before they got there. It was the kitchen. Heyes had been in there once; when he had to deliver a set of aprons to the cook. Then came his surprise as she guided him to the door, the one that led outside. Motioning for him to step back, she pulled out a shiny key, one with a crooked edge and a notch on the top, and unlocked the door. Opening it, she stepped aside and motioned him out.

The night air was cool and crisp. Looking around, he saw the stable to his left and heard a soft neigh come from inside. To his right was the main entrance to the prison, lit by the lamps that stood by the doors. A fence with a jagged edge surrounded the yard. Then, nervous at what he wouldn't see, he slowly looked up. Just as he found it, the clouds parted and the full moon shone bright, no bars, no window, just that celestial orb, hanging free in the night.

Barely able to pull his eyes from the sight, he saw a streak, a shooting star, something he hadn't seen since he was a kid. Softly, with a crack in his voice, he spoke, "Star light, star bright." He couldn't go any further.

"I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight." She finished for him. "Is it like you remember?"

"Better."

"C'mon." Leading him towards the stables, Heyes saw a small cage just outside the main door. Inside was a large dog, probably a Labrador, surrounded by a litter of puppies. "Momma showed up a few weeks ago. Pups have been wearing her ragged, so we take turns giving her a walk." She pulled a strip of rawhide from a nail on the barn and tossed it to him.

Taking the leather, he opened the cage and gently reached in. The puppies ran to him, each jumping on his outstretched arm as he reached for the collar that was around the grown dog's neck. Pulling the momma out he had to keep the younger ones from escaping. As he closed the cage door, he whispered, "I don't like being in one either."

With the pistol, she directed him towards the front of the prison, "We usually just walk her around a couple of times."

Without further instruction, Heyes began to walk. He was surprised at how well the animal took to being on a lead, not once pulling on the leather, just gently walking; only occasionally stopping to take care of what she needed to take care of.

Mid-way through the first round, Louise broke the silence, "So, tell me Mr. Heyes, why are you here?"

Heyes took in a deep breath, "I thought I answered that."

"You said you made a mistake."

"You don't think robbing banks and trains would be considered a mistake?"

"You did that for years and were never caught. You weren't caught, Mr. Heyes, you turned yourself in. I just find it hard to believe that you would do so, willingly."

"Have you ever been on the run?" With a sarcastic look, she gave him her answer, "Don't suppose so. When you're on the run, you get shot at, a lot. Your friends get shot. You just get to the point you give up."

"I guess it's true what they say, you do have a silver tongue. Too bad I'm more of a gold type of girl."

Heyes stopped, "Fine, I made a mistake. A friend was hurt and I ended up shooting someone. I went against everything I said I would and I fired my gun. Is that better?" Tugging on the lead, he resumed his walk. "If I could go back I'd change it. I would have found another way. Hell, if I could go back, I would change everything. I would have never walked into Miller's Mercantile when I was a kid."

"Miller's Mercantile?"

Heyes turned around and looked into her eyes, "First place we ever robbed. Stole in, opened the safe and took a whole $200. I never looked back and there ain't no reason to start now." Behind him, another horse neighed. He closed his eyes.

She smiled, "Don't tell me you now wish to be on the back of a horse?"

With a smile, he asked, "Why are you here?"

"I thought I answered that?" She smirked, parroting him.

He walked up closer to her, still very aware of the gun that separated them. "Why are you here? Right now?"

Looking down, she glanced back up to meet his chocolate eyes. "I don't know."


He heard it coming. Felt it, before it hit. And yet, the blow still took him to his knees as another fist went deep into his gut. Looking across the yard, he made eye contact with Anthony, who smiled. He might not have been delivering the blows, but he had a hand in it nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, he reached around and grabbed the man behind him, laying a fist firmly into his side. He tried to block as many of the punches as he could and deliver just as many, but four on one, just wasn't fair. By the time the guards had surrounded the men at least two of his attackers were on the ground, heaving heavy breaths from the punches they had sustained. As soon as Heyes was lifted to his feet, darkness enveloped him and he blacked out.

When he came to, he was in the hospital. The room was bright from the sunlight that flooded through the windows. To his left he looked out through the bars, always bars, to the field that lie just beside the prison and saw a pair of horses grazing. He went to lift his arm, only to discover that both were strapped tight to the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he just sighed.

He heard a door open and close, looking up he saw Louise bent over talking to the nurse. With a soft gesture, the nurse left the room. To his left and right he noticed, they were the only ones there.

Louise walked to the side of the bed, her hands folded in front of her, "You put up a good fight. Two of the boys had to be transferred to the hospital over in Cheyenne; broken ribs."

Heyes tried not to smile, but couldn't resist.

"You're lucky, Janice says you just have cuts and bruises. The hit to your head was the worst that you sustained. You'll be back in your cell by the end of the day."

"Glad to hear it." Heyes spoke, sarcastically. "And the other men?"

"They've been given a week in the hole, and will then be on restricted privileges. Your cellmate, Clyde, is one of the ones you sent to the hospital."

Heyes smiled, again.

Louise brushed the hair out of his eyes, lightly touching the bandage over his right temple, "I'm glad you weren't hurt more."

"So am I."

With a smile, she left the room.


After word got out about the fight and the damage Heyes had inflicted upon two of his attackers, the other men gave him a new found respect. Several had even approached him, trying to form an alliance, looking for a new leader, but he wasn't ready that role. He wasn't sure if he ever would be.

But after the fight, the Wednesday night visits continued and Heyes quickly became accustomed to them. They would go outside, walk the dog, and just talk. It was the first real conversation that he had in months. She was intelligent and witty, and they conversed about worldly subjects and events; allowing him, for the briefest of moments, to forget where he was and more importantly, where he couldn't be.

On one such Wednesday, as soon as they stepped out of the door she stepped back in, back out of the heavy rain that was falling. With a smile as he stepped out, he pulled on her hand. "Do you know how much trouble I will be in if they discover that I brought you out here?"

He laughed as he took in the refreshing drops of water. "Do you know how long it's been since I've felt rain? If they find out, tell them I was disrespectful and you brought me out here as punishment."

She laughed, heartedly, "Fine, then get down and give me ten." She pointed towards the wet ground.

Heyes looked down and then back up at her. With a smirk, he lowered himself to the ground and did ten long pushups as she counted.

As he rose, he walked slowly up to her. "Now that I've given you what you want…" Snaking one arm around her small waist, he came inches from her lips.

"We're getting drenched in this rain."

"Will you melt?" He whispered, seductively.

"Absolutely. Sugar and spice and everything nice."

With an impish grin, he lowered himself further, lightly placing a kiss on her lips.

As he pulled away, she whispered, "I shouldn't be doing this."

"Neither should I." He leaned in again, taking her face in his hand, deepening the kiss.

From the stables, they heard a familiar neigh. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the barn. With a key from her pocket, a shiny gold one that had the letter "s" engraved on the side, she opened the door, and with a quick look around, they ducked inside.

The stable was full of horses. Each stuck its head out, looking at who had just entered. To their left, there was a tall mare; she had a deep brown coat with a dark brown mane. Heyes patted the horse as it nuzzled itself underneath his arm.

Louise walked up behind him. "Her name is Nemesis; Greek goddess of Vengeance and Retaliation."

Heyes chuckled at the name, "Fitting name for a horse at a prison."

She motioned towards the other horses, "They are all named after Greek Gods." She pointed to the stallion across from them. "That one is Ares, to his left is Athena, and my favorite," she walked to the horse nearest the door, "is Aphrodite."

Heyes walked up to her and once again wrapped his arm around her waist. "Goddess of Love?"

She blushed as she looked down. "She's a good horse." A clasp of thunder shook the stable; Louise jumped. "I hate thunderstorms. Rain is one thing, storms are something else."

Heyes whispered, "I'll protect you."

Stepping away from him, she kept her hand on his chest. "That's just it. You can't." Turning back to the door, she opened it, "We should go back, now."


A few days later, as he meticulously folded uniforms, he heard his name called. Turning, Louise stood in the doorway of the laundry room. "You have a visitor, follow me."

Laying down the half-folded pants, he followed her out and down the hall to where he knew the visitation rooms were. With each step, his heart beat a little bit faster, hoping against hope about who might be there to see him, knowing better, knowing there was no chance.

She slowly opened the door, his smile faded for just a moment as he saw on the other end of the darkly lit room his friend, Lom Trevors. Regaining a smile, he greeted his old friend with a firm hand shake. "Lom, good to see you."

"Sorry it's been awhile, been busy." Lom took off his hat and placed it on the table that sat in the middle of the room. It was the only piece of furniture, surrounded by four chairs, two on each side. Lom sat in one, Heyes the other. With a nod from Lom, Louise quietly left, but as the door closed, Heyes heard a familiar sound, the sound of a lock sliding firmly in place.

"Thanks for comin'." Heyes spoke, sincerely.

"I would'a come sooner, but Devil's Hole is keeping me and my deputy busy. They've hit the bank twice and have stopped at least four trains on their way in to Porterville. Thing is, they ain't stole more than $5,000 all together, seems they're more hell-bent on making Porterville pay for you being in here."

Heyes looked down at the table. "Wish I could help you out Lom, but I can't get word in to the boys."

Lom leaned back in his chair. "I know you would if you could. Perhaps in time they'll move on. So how are you doing? I heard about what happened last month."

Heyes winced at the memory. "Nothing I can't take care of, I'll be fine."

"You've been getting the books I've been sending, right?"

"Yeah, really appreciate them." He stopped to take a breath. "Lom, any word on Kid, his amnesty?"

"Not yet. The Governor is taking a lot of heat about Devil's Hole. He probably won't move on the amnesty until that stops. But I came here for another reason. The Governor heard about you helping out when you first got in here and all the help you've been giving to Brooker and Pierce and Hamilton."

"And?" Heyes was intrigued.

"Well, he's also been catching a lot of heat from his budget office. Seems us sheriffs have been doing our jobs just a bit too well, as a result the prison is growing overcrowded and over budget."

"How does that involve me?"

"Well, he wants to make you an offer. He's willing to accept a partial sentence. You would be released and you'd have to stay out of trouble, with just the occasional check-ins with a Sheriff. You wouldn't be completely free, but a lot freer than you are today."

Heyes' eyes lit up. "That's great, let's do it then."

Lom smiled, "Great. Now like I said, you would still have to serve part of your sentence. Governor feels one-fourth would be about appropriate."

Heyes' smile faded, "One-fourth. That's five years."

Lom nodded, agreeing with the calculation. "Yes, five years, four and a half to go. But it sure beats twenty."

Heyes stood and walked to the back wall, leaning against it. "What about my amnesty?"

"You won't need it; with this you'll be free."

"In five years."

"Four and a half."

"Same thing. Lom, I went straight, I did everything the Governor asked."

Lom stood and walked to face his friend. "Everything but not shoot a man of the law, or have you forgotten that?"

"I made a mistake. One mistake"

"One is all it takes, Heyes."

Heyes ran his hand through his hair. Pacing the room once, he turned back, "What if we can forget what happened in Rock Springs? What if we can forget…?"

"We can't."

"But what if we could?"

"Heyes, you're in prison and this offer is the best you're going to get."

"What if wasn't, what if…?"

Astounded, "Heyes, I don't know what you're thinking, but you better stop thinking it now."

"I'm not thinking anything."

"Good. Cause, right now you have it about as good as you will ever get. Sit tight, and wait for the five years to pass."

Heyes half-heartedly laughed, "Sit tight? You don't have any idea what's it's like to be in here."

"No Heyes, I don't."

"But you deserve this just as much as I do. You robbed banks; you took money that wasn't yours."

Lom stormed to the table and grabbed his hat. "This conversation is over Heyes, we're not going to go down my list of crimes. I got lucky and was given a second chance; the same chance that your partner is getting right now. I hate it that you had to actually pay for your sins, but you can't just blame me because I didn't have to."

"Fine, what about the Kid, where is he?"

Lom sighed, "I have no idea. I haven't heard from or about him since you came in here. I don't imagine he wants to be found."

Heyes nodded, "Good."

"Why is that good?"

"No reason." Heyes knew Lom could see through the smile that he offered.

"Heyes…"

Heyes put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "Look Lom, I'm sorry about what I said. Just go back to Porterville. I'll be fine. You know me."

"Exactly Heyes, I know you and that's what worries me."

As Heyes was ushered back into his cell, he glanced back up to the window. There was the moon, shining bright, with no clouds to cover it. The weeks of staring up through that window, always having the view obstructed had taken away the "fire," as Louise put it. But seeing it up there all those nights, with nothing in its way, relit that fire and he just wasn't sure how many more days he could handle being locked in a cage. Kid was God-knows-where, and the law knew it. The law knew that they had no contact with the each other since he had come in. Kid's amnesty was safe. His only reservation was the betrayal he would have to make. As he lay on his cot he tried to find that inner answer, could he do what it took? Could he betray someone that he was beginning to care about? With a glance back at the moon, his question was answered, for his own survival, he didn't have a choice.


She had been avoiding him; ever since that night in the rain; ever since the kiss. However, he couldn't let that deter him. He had already started to put his plan in motion, started making his mental notes, sneaking the little things he would need. Making sure she wasn't around when he did it. She would notice, she would see through him and he couldn't risk that, especially considering how vital she was to the success of his plan.

As the days passed, he slowly put it all together; exactly what he would need to do. He needed as much time as he could get, so he planned on Christmas Eve. After subtly asking around, he found out that the prison would be offering Christmas mass, one that would surely take longer than the usual Wednesday mass. It would give him added time. But for it to work, he had to get back to her; had to make sure that she would be there.

One week before, he decided to make his move. As they were finishing dinner, he looked up. Across the room, she stood with a pair of other guards, chatting as they watched over their charges. Getting up from the table, he clenched his fist at his stomach and walked over to the trio. As he approached, all three responded by standing up straighter. "Excuse me." He tried to feign a pained expression. "Dinner isn't sitting too well, would it be alright if I went back a little early?"

They looked between themselves and shrugged. The man on the far left asked, "You need to go to the nurse?"

"No, no, just need to lie down."

"Louise, you think you can take him back?"

She glared at Heyes, questioningly, "Yeah, I can do that." With her revolver brandished, she ushered him towards the door and out into the hallway.

As she guided him towards his cell, he noticed how tense she was. She kept a firm hand on her gun, her shoulders back, and her head up. At the cell, he stopped, blocking her from putting the key in the hole to open the door.

She sighed, "Mr. Heyes, you need to move to the side."

He turned and looked in her eyes. "You've been avoiding me."

She closed her eyes. "Mr. Heyes, you need to move to the side."

A tense moment passed. Slowly, he moved to his left and let her unlock the door. Not walking in, instead, he stepped closer to her. "What are you afraid of?"

"Mr. Heyes, what happened was a mistake."

"Was it?"

Her breathing became faster. "I could lose my job. I could lose my career, for what? A man that is going to be behind bars for the next twenty years?"

"How are you going forget?"

"I'll find a way."

"I don't believe you; I don't think you'll ever forget this…" Taking her around the waist, he pressed his lips against hers. As he pulled away, he whispered, "I know I won't."

Walking into the cell, he pulled the door closed and watched as she turned and left down the hallway. With a slight smile, but with a cut to the heart, he knew, with her one glance back, that his plan would work.


As the week passed, pangs of guilt ate at his conscience. With each glance her way, he doubted his ability to follow through with his plan, but then he would return to his cell at night. One glance up at the window, where the moon refused to shine in, would make him more determined to follow through. He couldn't live in a cage, not anymore, not after tasting those brief moments of free air, not after tasting her.

At dinner on Christmas Eve, he was ready. As he walked across the cafeteria, he bumped into another inmate, spilling his food on the floor. "Hey watch where you're going!" The smaller man yelled.

Not backing down, Heyes stepped closer to the man, not saying a word, waiting.

With anticipated reaction, the man threw a punch which Heyes easily deflected and with a shove, sent the man flying into a nearby table. Grabbing him by the collar, he picked the man up and threw him to the floor.

Quickly surrounded, three guards pinned Heyes' arms tightly behind his back, escorting him out of the room. As he passed the doorway, he made eye contact with Louise, who stood with her gun drawn facing the restless crowd. He gave a slight smile, one that only she would notice, as they led him out.

Opening the door into the darkness, they threw him in the room. He had heard about the hole. Over the past month he had asked around, finding out everything he could, preparing himself. The inmates often referred to it as "hell." At first, even he had been a bit intimidated, but then he realized, it wasn't much different than what he had been through for the past six months.

It was completely dark; he felt along the walls, he knew there would be a single lantern, somewhere along one wall. The walls were rough, hard concrete never smoothed by the builders. As he shuffled along the second wall he found it, the lantern with a wick barely sticking out of the top. Reaching in his shoe, he pulled out the match that he had won in a poker game the week before. For so long, he had been amused at what the inmates gambled for within the walls of the prison, but as he had made his plans, a new understanding of wants and needs came to him. As he struck the match and the light from the flame flickered across the walls, he took note of the oil in the lantern. About half full; it was just enough to get him through the night; just what he needed.

The room was small, even smaller than his cell. The cot was filthy, tattered rags covered the mattress. The floor was dirty, in one corner sat a bucket; he shuddered at the idea of that being his only option if the need came. Across from the cot was the door. He examined it, carefully. It was metal, with a metal frame. With a light tap, he could tell that it was thick and heavy. In the middle of the door was an opening. That would be where the guards would slide through the inmates' meals. He walked to the cot and lifted his shirt. Untying the knot just below his arm, he began to unravel the cloth that was tightly woven around his chest, revealing a long string that he then ripped into several smaller strands. From within his shoe, he pulled out three small metallic pieces. They weren't exactly the quality that he had with his regular set of picks, but he felt confident they would work if needed. He lifted the mattress to the cot, seeing if any of the springs would do a better job, but just as expected, the cots in the hole were even more neglected than the ones in his cell, the ones he held in his hand would have to do.

He sat and leaned against the wall. It was quiet. That was what all the men had complained about; the silence. They said it would drive you mad within the hour. Not a sound, not a voice, not a squeak, not even a mouse scurrying, just silence. He was alone. But he had an advantage over the other men; he had been alone for over half a year, what were a few more hours to add to it?

As he went over his plan, he tried to track the time, but that was one thing even he could not do. Time seemed to stand still. He knew Christmas mass would start at 7, but as each moment passed, it felt like an eternity, and before he realized it, he was unsure exactly how much time had gone by. One hour or six, he just couldn't tell. To take his mind off of it, he started to pace, he always did that when he and the Kid were in jail. It kept his mind active, moving. It gave him a sense of doing something, even if it was nothing more that wearing a path in the concrete floor.

As he stopped and leaned against the wall just to the right of the door, he heard it. It was the sound of a key going in the lock, the lock sliding out of its entrapment, and the door slowly opening. As the light from the hallway spilled into the room with a svelte shadow, he braced his hand against the wall.

"Mr. Heyes?" She stepped into the room, her gun drawn.

At the sound of her voice, he smiled.

"Yes?"

She jumped as she looked to her left. Gripping her chest in surprise, she gave a half-smile. "You startled me."

"Did I?"

She leaned up against the door, holding it slightly ajar, staring at him intently. "What happened? Why are you in here?"

He smiled, "Why do you think?"

She blushed and holstered her gun. "You have been a model inmate ever since you arrived. You have tried to avoid every scuffle that has come across your path. Today, of all days, you decided to start a fight."

Heyes shrugged, "Perhaps I got tired of avoiding the inevitable. It didn't do me any favors with Clyde."

"Except, I don't think you could ever really hurt anyone. This was what you wanted all along, to be in here. Why?"

"Like I said, why do you think?" Taking her face in his hand, he leaned down and placed a light kiss.

"I told you, I can't do this."

Holding the door slightly open with his foot, he tore at the sleeve of his shirt. Taking the cloth, he jammed it in the hole that the lock would slide into. Letting the door close, he felt the lack of resistance, a sure sign that the lock did not find its home.

"No one has to know." He came down with another kiss.

Without releasing her, he gently led her to the cot. Sitting on the edge, he could sense her defenses falling. Leaning over him, she came down with a passion that he knew ran just beneath the surface. He pulled her on top of him, and felt the heat of her body. His hands tightened around her waist, the touch of her feminine curves overwhelmed his senses. Tugging on her belt, he loosed the leather from around her waist, gently placing it on the floor to his right. For a moment, as the kiss deepened, he forgot his plan, so enamored at the feel of a woman within his grasp. As her kisses traveled to his ear, he looked up at the ceiling, up at the filth and the dirt. He closed his eyes, and fought one last battle between what he knew was wrong and what was unforgivable. Steeling his heart against the truth that he wanted to ignore, he let his hand travel down, over the cold steel of the cot, towards the ground. He felt the leather, then the bluntness of the handle, the ivory handles so well cared for. With a slight tug, he released the revolver from its confines and gave a soft moan to cover the sound of the metal scraping against the leather as he slowly pulled it from the holster. The feel of the gun within his hand was heavy, odd in a hand that had been empty for so long. With a deep swallow, he pulled the hammer back as the unmistakable sound reverberated within the room.

As Louise looked down the barrel of the gun, understanding came to her in waves. For the first time, Heyes saw nervousness and fear within her eyes, and he quietly cursed himself for being the cause of it. The words caught in his throat as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She rose, sitting on the end of the cot, staring, unbelieving at the gun pointed towards her. "You planned this, all along."

Heyes shook his head slightly, "No. I've just realized that I can't spend the next twenty years caged like that dog, only allowed to walk when someone else decides to let me out."

He saw a tear come to her eye as she took a deep breath to keep it at bay. "So, what? You're going to use me to get out, a hostage? They'll shoot you down. You won't get out the gate alive."

Heyes knelt and felt underneath the cot. With a tug, he pulled out the strips of cloth. "I've never taken a hostage in my life. I don't plan on starting now." Taking the strips, he gently tossed them to her side.

"What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Take one set; tie your ankles to the leg of the cot. Make the knots good." Unable to look her in the eye, he reached in his boot and pulled out the picks and quickly shoved them in his pocket.

With angry jerks, she did as she was told, once finished, she looked up. "Anything else?"

"Put your hands behind you." He walked towards her, placing the gun in the waist of his pants, he pulled her hands back, trying not to notice the delicateness of her fingers. Taking another strip, he tied them; she winced and let out a squeak as they were tightened. For a moment longer than he knew he should, he held her hand within his. The rest of the strips he picked up and placed back in his pocket, just in case they were needed later. Then with his head low, he pulled her keys from her left pocket, trying to ignore to feel of her body, and then walked towards the door.

"You're doing it again." He stopped. "You're making another mistake. Except this one you can change. You can stop, right here, right now." A moment of silence passed. "You don't want to do this. You've spent your life running from one mistake after another, for once, make the right decision. Mr. Heyes, you can undo this, but only if you turn around, now."

Taking a deep breath, he turned; he wanted to do as she asked. Even more so, he wanted to take her with him, but knew that turning her into an outlaw would be an even bigger mistake, one that he wouldn't be able to live with. Walking towards her, he retook her hands within his and loosened the strips. The knot would still hold long enough for him to get out, but at least she would eventually be able to work her way loose. As he stood, he spoke softly, "Tell them I pretended to be sick and over powered you."

As he stood up, he saw a change in her eyes. Her breathing became rapid, "I'll find you." For a moment, he stopped. "If you do this, if you leave me here, and by some miracle make it out of these walls alive, I swear to God, I will find you." Her anger was unmistakable and sent a chill down his spine.

Not looking back, he walked to the door and opened it. Removing the cloth from the hole, he walked out, letting the door softly close behind him. With the unmistakable sound of a lock sliding in place, he knew the damage was done and there was only one way forward.


The halls were blissfully empty. With the gun in hand, he quickly crept down the quiet corridors, staying to the shadows. Down one hall he went, to the door at the end. He quickly looked through the keys on the ring, he was missing the right one, it was a small key, its end came to a point, and it was the one he needed to open the closet door. Taking the picks from his pocket, he knelt down, quickly inserting them, moving them, and trying to regain that talent that he had so long ago. For a moment, fear struck him, had he forgotten how to open a simple lock? Sweat started to form on his brow when, finally, he heard the release and he was able to turn the knob without resistance. Stepping into the walk-in closet, he reached down to the second shelf, where he had secretly placed a uniform that was just his size. Quickly undressing, he changed into the guard's uniform and transferred the contents of one pocket to the other.

Peering out the closet, the hall was still empty as he continued his trek to freedom.

As he approached his next stop, his anxiety increased. He would have to use the picks again; there would be no reason for a guard to have the key to this lock, so there was no point in even trying the ones in his pocket. Looking at the door, there was no light coming from within. He breathed a sigh of relief, even though he knew the warden would be in the chapel, the thought had crossed his mind.

The door was heavy; the lock would be going into the slot at an angle. Placing the toe of his boot underneath the lip of the door, he tried to pull it up, just a little, just enough to give the lock more freedom to move. With the picks in the lock, he manipulated it, twisting and turning, hoping that the small pieces of metal wouldn't break. Then, he heard the scratch of metal against metal, the lock reluctantly sliding out. Opening the door, the room was barely lit by the moon outside. Behind the desk was the safe. The new Brooker series, and on the top right hand corner was the proud stamp – "Heyes Proof." He knelt in front of it. Putting his ear to the door, he strained to hear even the faintest sound of a tumbler looking for its home. But even with the utter silence of the room, his ears could not pick out a single sound. It was on to plan B, he knew the safe had been specially ordered, he knew they weren't going to take the same chance they did before. They weren't going to risk having a safe they couldn't get into. He also had found out, through careful conversations, the dates that were important to the warden. He knew his birthday, wedding anniversary, even his anniversary date with the government. As he placed his ear again to the door, he slowly turned to the numerical month. If he could just hear it…

On the third try, the warden's birthday, he heard the faint sound, so subtle that it was almost unperceivable. He turned it again, to the day, then the year. With each one, the sound was so soft that he wasn't even sure if it really happened, or if he was just hoping. Slowly pulling on the lever, he felt it give, felt the lock slide out of place. He could barely contain himself as he swung the door open and reached in, to find the mass of keys, the ones he knew he would need. Closing the door tightly, his hand lightly brushed the stamp, he had outdone himself after all, he had just needed the right motivation.

Exiting the Warden's office, he breathed a little easier, but he still wasn't out, not yet.

Making his way down the familiar corridors, his heart raced with each step closer, closer to the door that would get him outside, would take him to freedom.

But as he opened the kitchen door, he froze. Sitting at the table to his right was a guard. This one was new; Heyes had yet to have contact with him. Looking up from the bowl of soup he was eating, he gave a slight wave. "Oh, hey. I thought everyone was down at the chapel? Just made a pot of chicken almond soup, feel free grab a bowl."

Heyes cautiously made his way over to the counter that held a vat of hot white soup, the smell was amazing and his stomach grumbled. From the hallway, he heard yelling. The guard at the table stood up quickly and walked towards the noise.

"I wonder what that's about?"

In two strides, Heyes came up behind the man, pressing the revolver into his side. "That would be about me." Pulling him to his right, he dragged the man in the storage closet, where the aprons were kept. With quickness, he gagged and tied him. Sitting him on the floor, he knelt down and tapped his knee, "Now don't be stupid and try to come out of here, you understand?"

The frightened man nodded yes.

Cautiously stepping out of the closet, he walked to the kitchen door; quickly turning the lock, hoping it would at least slow down the approaching men. At the exit, he rifled through the set of keys, searching for the shiny one, the one with the crooked edge and the notch on the top. Finally finding it, he opened the door and stepped out into the cold air. Pulling the door closed, he looked around, thankful that there was no one in sight. Running to the stables, his heart pounded with each step. In the moon light, he again found the key he needed, the shiny gold one with the "s" engraved. His hands shook as he put it in the lock and swung open the door. Inside, he grabbed a saddle and blanket. To his left, Nemesis stuck her head out, quietly waiting. Opening the stall gate, he threw the blanket on her back, then the saddle. Once secured, he pulled the horse to the door and led her out. Barely able to mount her, the door to the kitchen swung open and a man stepped out. "There he his!" He yelled as he fired his weapon, the bullet barely missing its target.

"Heeaww!" Heyes yelled as he buried his heels into the horse's side, aiming her for the back fence, the one barely visible from the prison, the one with the damaged gate.

He heard the men scrambling behind him, firing their guns. Heyes leaned tight against the horse, trying to make as small a target as he possible. Rounding a line of trees, he saw the gate and jumped off the horse. He grabbed the lock on the gate, looking at the key hole, it was small. Pulling out the Warden's keys, he went through each small key, trying each one, but the lock would not give. Glancing back towards the prison, he heard the commotion, the men were on horseback, they were getting closer, and his time was running out.

Trying the final key, he couldn't believe it when the lock finally gave way. Opening the gate wide, he jumped back on the horse as he heard the whistle of a bullet whiz by, way too close. Not looking back, he spurred his horse on, hoping that he could somehow just gain enough ground before a bullet found its mark.

Through the woods he pushed on and slowly the sounds of the gun shots faded. He had done it. Slowing his horse, he breathed deep, the first real breath he had in hours. Scanning the moon lit trail behind him, he could see no one. He smiled. But he knew his ride was far from over.


As the sun slowly started to rise over the horizon, he stretched his legs near the river bank. Scooping up the cold water, he splashed it on his face, in part to help reawaken him, in part to help convince him that it was real, he was out, he was free. Looking up at the sky, the moon was still there, it had been there all night, like a friend, never leaving his side.

A friend at his side.

Looking east, he thought about his partner. Finding him would be difficult, but he knew it wasn't impossible. After that, he would then have to come up with a plan to somehow find his way back into the Governor's good graces. His conscience gnawed at him about Louise, dealing with that would be after, after he repaired things with Governor. But first, he would have to find the Kid.

As he walked back to the horse that was lazily drinking from the river bank, he again looked up. In the sky he saw another streak, another shooting star, with a smile he whispered, "Star light, star bright."

Mounting the horse, he turned the steed eastward, towards the sun, towards tomorrow. Once again, he decided to not look back, at least not yet.


Poem written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1829

To — —

1
Should my early life seem,
[As well it might,] a dream —
Yet I build no faith upon
The king Napoleon —
I look not up afar
For my destiny in a star:

2
In parting from you now
Thus much I will avow —
There are beings, and have been
Whom my spirit had not seen
Had I let them pass me by
With a dreaming eye—
If my peace hath fled away
In a night — or in a day —
In a vision — or in none —
Is it therefore the less gone? —

3
I am standing 'mid the roar
Of a weather-beaten shore,
And I hold within my hand
Some particles of sand —
How few! and how they creep
Thro' my fingers to the deep!
My early hopes? no — they
Went gloriously away,
Like lightning from the sky
At once — and so will I.

4
So young? ah! no— not now—
Thou hast not seen my brow,
But they tell thee I am proud —
They lie — they lie aloud —
My bosom beats with shame
At the paltriness of name
With which they dare combine
A feeling such as mine —
Nor Stoic? I am not:
In the terror of my lot
I laugh to think how poor
That pleasure "to endure!"
What! shade of Zeno!— I!
Endure! — no — no — defy.