Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

In and Out of Trouble

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You're not Clem," blurted out Heyes in surprise.

The dark haired former outlaw and his partner had ridden cautiously into the front yard of the home on the outskirts of Denver. Signs of change since their last visit nearly four months ago were evident. The two chairs on the front porch were gone. A clothes line ran beneath the cottonwood trees. Heyes couldn't imagine Clem ever wearing the garish pink flounced dress hanging from the line, but more worrisome were a pair of large man's pants flapping in the breeze. Was Clem's father living here now? Or had Clem gotten married while he and Kid were away?

"No, I'm not Clem, name is Ferguson," agreed the chubby man with a broad smile. The jovial man pushed his spectacles further up on his nose and peered through them. "You must be Miss Hale's cousins. Right?"

Heyes opened his mouth to respond, but the man continued speaking.

"No, no, don't tell me," insisted the man with a chuckle. "Let me guess."

The man pointed one pudgy finger first at the slender dark haired man standing before him, then at the tall blond watching carefully from his mounted position on the big black gelding. Kid leaned forward with his left arm resting on the pommel of his saddle. The reins to Heyes horse dangled loosely from his fingertips. The younger man's right hand hovered near his revolver.

"You must be Thaddeus Jones," continued the stranger, "and he must be Joshua Smith."

"Actually, I'm Joshua Smith," responded Heyes. Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, Heyes added, "My partner is Thaddeus Jones. We're looking for Miss Clementine Hale. She has lived here for nearly ten years."

The man looked momentarily crestfallen to have mistaken the partner's identities, but he perked up with Heyes next question.

"Do you know where we might find her?" asked Heyes.

"I purchased the home from Miss Hale about two months ago," replied Ferguson. "She was very concerned that you get her new address."

The chubby man tapped one finger against his double chins thoughtfully.

"Now where did I put that paper?" he muttered quietly. His face lit up and he snapped his fingers suddenly. "I remember!"

"Clem moved?" asked Heyes in surprise but he was talking to an empty doorway.

Inside the house, Heyes could see the pink tufted sofa and small round tables were gone as well as the big kitchen table where the friends had shared so many meals. The big cast iron stove remained along with the red handled pump by the sink. Ferguson was poking into the slotted crevasses of a built in spice rack. The chubby man withdrew a folded paper.

"Aha, here it is," exclaimed the man happily. He returned to the front door and thrust the paper towards Heyes. "She wanted you to have her new address."

Heyes sniffed. The vanilla scented paper in his hand was covered with elegantly formed letters scrawling across the paper.

"Fourteenth Street, number two hundred forty seven, upstairs," read Heyes. "She's in downtown Denver?"

"Miss Hale moved into town with her father," replied the chubby man with a firm nod up and down.

"Joshua," called the blond man, "it's not far, we should be going."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Slightly over an hour later, Heyes was knocking at another door. An upstairs window raised. A familiar dark haired head leaned out overhead.

"Boys!" squealed a familiar voice in happy recognition.

Heyes craned his neck backwards looking up. Strands of Clem's dark brown hair tumbled free from her bun and dangled over her shoulder as she leaned most of her upper torso out the window.

"Clem, don't fall!" admonished Heyes.

"Phhht," sputtered Clem with a bright smile. "Don't worry! I'm not going to fall."

The tiny woman brushed back her hair with one hand, then rested her forearms on the window sill. The broad smile changed to a small pout.

"You're late," said Clem. "You missed both Fourth of July and the Statehood celebration."

Heyes spread his hands out expansively to either side of his body, elbows tucked tight at the waist. His black hat hung between his shoulder blades by the stampede strings tied at his throat.

"Clem, we got here as soon as we could," explained Heyes. "Our business in Texas took longer than expected."

"Not to mention our business in New Mexico and Arizona," added Kid.

Behind Heyes, the younger man still sat astride his black gelding. Kid held the reins of Heyes' horse in his left hand and pushed his brown hat up higher to look up at Clem.

"I heard about your business in Texas," replied Clem with a sour tone. The pouting lips tightened into a full-fledged frown. "Getting arrested in Clarendon! Hmmph!"

In the street below, the dark haired Kansan exchanged a surprised look with his partner. Kid shrugged. Heyes looked back up at Clem.

"Clem, I don't know what rumors you may have heard, but…" began the silver tongued wonder.

"It was in the Denver Post," interrupted Clem.

"What?"

"Wait," commanded the petite brunette.

Clem withdrew from the window. A couple of minutes later, she reappeared holding a rolled up newspaper.

"Catch," said Clem. "Page three. A human interest story by some newsman from Clarendon named Monroe."

Heyes reached his hands up to retrieve the falling papers. At Clem's words, Heyes had sudden flash of memory. Mr. Monroe asked Sheriff Coltrane for a statement that day at the diner. A dimpled smile spread across Heyes' face.

"Now Clem, newspapers don't always get the facts right," chuckled Heyes.

From the expression on Clem's face, Heyes could tell she remembered their conversation from the partner's last visit. A newspaper article had led her to believe Curry and Heyes were wounded, possibly dead. Heyes pressed his advantage.

"You can see we're both alive and well, right here in front of you," coaxed Heyes. "I don't know what Mr. Monroe could possibly have written to be so upsetting. Why don't you invite us inside so we can talk about it?"

Clem's shoulders slumped. The tiny woman pushed her hair back behind her ears.

"I can't," said Clem flatly.

"What?" asked Kid. The blond glanced tellingly towards the passersby. "Clem, are you really going to keep us standing outside in the middle of the street?"

"Father's ill," explained Clem. "The doctor thinks he's got typhoid fever. And the city council passed an ordinance…" Clem huffed in exasperation, tendrils of dark hair fluttered around her forehead. "There's a quarantine on the house."

Clem pointed to a sheet of paper nailed beside the front door. For the first time Heyes looked at it closely enough to read the tiny lettering. The notice was signed by City Physician, John W. Graham, MD.

"I can't let you in," sighed Clem.

"Four weeks quarantine. We can't go in," agreed Heyes with an answering sigh. "Or we would have to stay until the doctor can safely determine we're not contagious too. City council has given him the right to detain people if needed to protect the health of the city."

Kid shook his blond curly head in disagreement.

"What about Clem's health, and Mr. Hale's?" asked Kid. Blue eyes looked up at the brunette peering out the second floor window. "Clem, what can we do to help you?"

"Just go," said Clem softly. "Father and I will be fine. I don't want you boys getting in trouble by staying here to help me."

Still clutching the rolled up newspaper, Heyes returned to his horse. A booted foot placed in a stirrup had Heyes back in the saddle in an instant. Dark brown eyes gazed at Clem.

"If you need something," began Heyes.

"I know," replied Clem with a smile.

"Yeah," said Heyes. He tried to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. The former outlaw forced an answering smile. Then, the dark haired man added Kid's usual goodbye. "Take care of yourself while we're gone."

Leaving didn't feel right. Heyes could tell from his partner's clenched jaw and sulky frown that Kid felt the same way. Neither partner wanted to leave Clem, but the petite woman made a shooing motion with her hands.

"Go on, get," said Clem with a smile. "Hurry back for Thanksgiving."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

North of Denver, the partners stopped to set up camp. Heyes soon had a crackling fire going. The former outlaw leader looked toward the river. Kid stood on the river bank, the coffee pot was beside his foot. Heyes stood up and stretched his arms out high overhead. Then Heyes began to walk down the slope towards his partner. The stone the younger man skimmed across the water sank after only two skips.

"Not one of your better throws Kid," commented Heyes when he reached his partner's side.

Wordlessly, Kid set another small flat rock in motion. Four skips before sinking. A third stone made its way across the narrow riverbed to land among stalks of dried brown bulrushes.

"I know you're still upset about leaving Clem, but what else is bothering you?" asked Heyes.

For a moment, Heyes thought his cousin wasn't going to answer. Then Kid turned to face Heyes. Clear blue eyes stared back at him.

"We still haven't told Clem about the amnesty," answered Kid.

"Is that all?" chuckled Heyes.

"All?" demanded Kid. "We agreed we would tell Clem."

"You didn't want me to shout it from the street now did you?" asked Heyes. "Or have you forgotten, the amnesty deal is supposed to be a secret."

"It don't seem right, keeping secrets from Clem," grumbled Kid. "Going straight ought to be about living a better life, and telling the truth ought to be part of that. It's not just about not robbing banks and trains anymore."

"Yeah Kid," agreed Heyes. The dark haired Kansan clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "We can ask Lom when we see him. Maybe Governor Hoyt will have something to say about that. Right now, why don't we get some coffee and biscuits cooking?"

By the firelight later that evening, Heyes began to read the newspaper article. Lips curled up in a broad smile. Dimples deepened as he read further. Monroe's article about travelling by stage with his wife and children, meeting authentic Westerners, was reminiscent of a popular travel book published a few years previously. By the time Heyes got to the part about the dance with a mop bucket, he laughed out loud. Kid pushed the floppy brown hat back revealing his blue eyes.

"It you want me to be awake for second watch," grumbled Kid, "it would be nice if I got to sleep some now."

"Sorry Kid," chuckled Heyes. He held the paper up so his cousin could see it. "Monroe wrote a pretty funny article."

"Funny?" asked Kid.

"Funny," insisted Heyes. "Not as good as that Twain fellow's book, Innocents Abroad, but the story had its moments."

"What kind of moments?"

"Thaddeus Jones is getting a reputation too," chuckled Heyes.

"What do you mean?" asked Kid. "What kind of reputation?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

In a small town in western Pennsylvania, a tall man with dark blond hair limped into a store and headed towards the hardware lining the back wall. The shopkeeper greeted him with a smile.

"Henry," said the merchant, as he gestured towards the pile of newspapers on the counter, "There's an article that mentions Kid Curry in the Gettysburg Gazette."

The former Union cavalry messenger detoured towards the counter. Henry picked up the paper, scanning the headlines eagerly.

"I really don't understand your fascination with that outlaw, even if you do have the same last name. Of course the article might not be what you're looking for," chuckled the shopkeeper. "It's really more about Thaddeus Jones."

"Who?" asked Henry Curry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Nearly six weeks later, Heyes stopped in at the Porterville telegraph office. The dark haired man handed the clerk a piece of paper, while his blond partner stayed outside watching the townspeople and the snow flurries. Kid pulled his sheepskin coat tight against the cold.

"To Miss Clementine Hale, Denver Colorado," read the telegraph operator. "Delayed. See you in Spring."

The operator looked up at the dark haired man counting out coins to pay for the message.

"Is that all?" asked the telegraph clerk. "Do you want to add anything else?"

"No, she'll understand," replied Heyes shaking his head. Then he paused, "Actually, change that to Delayed. Back Spring."

Heyes pulled back a nickel and pocketed it before he pushed the meagre pile of coins across the counter towards the clerk. Stepping outside, the former outlaw rejoined his partner. Heyes shivered. Slender fingers reached and turned the collar on his dark brown jacket up.

"Now let's go see what Lom wants," said Heyes.

The telegraph message they had received in Wildwood had been abrupt. Come to Porterville. We need to talk.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sheriff's office was toasty warm. A coffee pot sat atop the black potbellied stove. Heyes shook his head when Lom offered him a cup. Kid leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest. Blue eyes watched the sheriff's every move.

"What did you want to see us about Lom?" asked Heyes. A tight smile spread across his face, Heyes tried to sound optimistic. "We've been good, law abiding citizens for over six months now, did the governor decide to grant us amnesty early?"

Lom shook his head as he poured himself a large cup of steaming black coffee.

"You haven't robbed any banks or trains," replied Lom, "but you boys keep getting into trouble."

The big lawman moved from the stove to stand behind his desk.

"We've been keeping out of trouble," objected the silver tongued former outlaw. Heyes leaned back against the wanted poster wall next to his partner. "We've been spending most of our time in New Mexico and Arizona."

"Where it's warm," added Kid.

"You've been in Colorado and Wyoming too," reminded Lom.

The former outlaws exchanged a glance. Lom might be a bit more informed about their activities than the two Kansans had hoped.

"Been a lot of places," responded Heyes. "Been to Texas and Mexico too."

"More than once," reminded Kid.

"Some Bannerman agent wanted to get all the Wanted posters on you boys rewritten," grumbled Lom as he sat down behind the big oak desk. "I put a stop to that."

"Lom!" exclaimed Heyes in disappointment.

The slender man had really hoped that the misinformation provided to Harry Brisco would make their lives easier. Sometimes Heyes thought that more people were shooting at Kid and himself now than when they had been outlawing.

"You really didn't have to do that Lom," countered Kid in a low voice. "It could have helped…"

"A change in your wanted posters would get people talking about you two," interrupted Lom. "You're supposed to be keeping a low profile!"

Curry and Heyes exchanged another glance. Then Kid nodded slowly in agreement with Lom's logic.

"Governor Hoyt appreciates your delivering that message to Hidalgo Kid, but getting arrested in Laredo wasn't a good idea," continued Lom.

"Wasn't exactly something I planned on," growled Kid.

"Lom, it wouldn't have happened at all if you hadn't sent us on two separate deliveries," added Heyes.

"Getting the reward money back from Grace Turner, was the only thing keeping the governor from cancelling your amnesty deal," said Lom, "but now he's a little concerned again."

"What do you mean concerned?" asked Heyes.

"Rumor has it you went back to Devil's Hole," replied Lom.

Heyes sucked in a deep breath. He could feel Kid's body tense up beside him.

"It's not what you think Lom," said Heyes in his best calming voice. "I just escorted a woman there."

"A woman?" asked Lom. Clearly he hadn't heard everything.

"Heyes got Big Jim to retire," said Kid. "That ought to count for something with the governor."

"Actually," chuckled Heyes, "it was Mrs. Phillips got Big Jim to retire, but the governor ought to be glad we put a stop to the robbery of the Wells Fargo offices in Denver."

Lom snorted.

"Your deal with the governor is about what you two do, not what Big Jim, or anyone else, does," replied Lom in a stern tone. "Stay out of trouble, and stay out of Devil's Hole!"

It was snowing heavier when the two former outlaws left the sheriff's office.

"We can't stay in Porterville," said Kid.

"No," agreed Heyes, "and we can't go to Devil's Hole or Wildwood."

There was a moment's silence as the two men mulled their options.

"We could make it to Thunder Ridge well before nightfall," suggested Kid. He shivered. "Even in this weather."

"Thunder Ridge?" asked Heyes.

"Clarence always did say we would be welcome anytime," replied his blond partner.

A smile spread across Heyes face as he remembered the old man. One of the original Devil's Hole gang, Clarence had been grievously injured in an accident. The entire gang had contributed money to set the amputee up in a little town north of Porterville.

"Thunder Ridge it is then," agreed Heyes.

Later that evening, the one legged old former outlaw greeted both partners with open arms.

"Of course you can stay," chuckled the old man happily. "Glad to have company, but what names are you two using now? I can't just introduce you to the rest of the town folk as Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry."

The next morning, while digging paths between the four buildings that made up the town of Thunder Ridge, Clarence introduced his guests to the other eight adults in town.

"My nephew Thaddeus and his partner Joshua Smith," chuckled Clarence. "They're gonna spend the winter with me and help me fix up the old place."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Early next Spring, Heyes sent another telegram to Clem and one to Lom, the message was the same. We weren't in Kingsburg.

"But we're going to Kingsburg, right Heyes," hissed Kid in a low voice.

"Yeah Kid, right after we see Soapy," answered the dark haired mastermind. "I've got a plan, but we're gonna need Soapy's help."

"I don't like people blaming us for murder," grumbled Kid.

Heyes looked at his partner in surprise.

"It didn't seem to bother you to be blamed for Gallant and Johnson's deaths in Texas all this time," commented Heyes.

An eyebrow went up above a blue eye. Heyes had the feeling he was missing something.

"They were killed, not murdered, and I knew those men weren't killed by me," explained Kid. "And your name wasn't even mentioned."

"Oh, so you're watching out for my reputation now," chuckled Heyes.

"Somebody's got to," responded Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Two months later, Heyes climbed slowly onto his horse. The worry over his spinning, aching head was nothing compared to his worry over his partner.

"Kid, you seem to be getting moodier," commented Heyes as the partners rode out of the Carlson ranch. Attempting a joke, he added, "I'm beginning to think that trying for amnesty might not agree with you."

"Getting shot at don't agree with me," grumbled Kid. Blue eyes stared at Heyes in concern. "And you getting shot, actually hit, really don't agree with me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Leaving Red Rock Montana, Kid asked Heyes a question.

"Do you know what our real Grandma Curry looked like?"

Heyes remembered the miniature portraits his mother had tucked in the front cover of the family Bible. The portraits along with the book, and the tintype taken shortly after his sister Cleopatra had been born, had all been burned long ago. Did Kid even remember those pictures?

"Grampa Curry buried two wives and three children in Ireland, before immigrating to Philadelphia with your Pa, my mother and Aunt Katie," reminded Heyes.

"I remember Grampa and Pa talking about the famine," said Kid with a nod.

"Our Grandma Curry had red hair and a great smile, Aunt Katie's Ma had a great smile too," continued Heyes. A dimpled smile spread across his face. "And if things hadn't turned out the way they had, the Widow Fleming might have been the third Grandma Curry."

Kid's blue eyes widened in surprise.

"The Widow Fleming and Grampa? Really?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was slightly over a year from the time they had last spoken to Lom that Heyes found himself riding out of Matherville with his grim faced partner.

"We can be over the state line into Texas by midday tomorrow," urged Heyes.

Funny, Heyes had spent the better part of a decade worrying about keeping Kid out of Texas, but now he just wanted to get Kid away from Matherville, and the Texas state line seemed the best option. Heyes glanced sideways at his moustached partner. Kid's expression didn't betray any emotion.

"We'll tell Lom," continued Heyes. "This shouldn't affect the amnesty deal, he can explain to the governor…"

Kid Curry never killed anyone, but Thaddeus Jones did.

-x-x-x-x-x-x