Chapter Seven
The familiar trail opened up into a clearing where a dozen small cabins, a corral, and a few storehouses were located. Heyes stopped and looked around silently for a few moments as old feelings washed over him. It seemed like only yesterday that he and Kid had been running things here, and yet, it felt like a lifetime ago. He glanced around and noticed that some of the cabins looked like they had been repaired recently. The corral had new fence rails and a new small building stood off to the side of the cluster of cabins; it appeared to be some type of storeroom. It didn't take long for the new inhabitants of Devil's Hole to notice that two strangers had entered their hideout.
Kid looked from man to man. Most wore guns on their hips and looked as young as the two sentries they'd met on the trail. His eyes settled on one man standing apart from the others and looked a little older than his compatriots; maybe thirty years old or so. The man stood leaning against the doorframe of one of the cabins, watching them intently. What caught Kid's attention were the man's eyes. They were looking directly at him. Instinct told Kid that this was the man to watch.
The two locked eyes for a moment, sizing each other up, before Curry's attention turned to a man striding purposefully toward them. The man's hair was almost white, but he had a gait and air about him that gave the impression of a younger man.
The white haired man stopped in front of the horses and squinted up at them, inspecting the new arrivals. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded, with an irritated look at his two young sentries.
"We stopped 'em on the trail, White," the dark haired young man replied.
The older man scowled. "You let them ride in here without taking their guns," he said accusingly, then turned his attention back to the new arrivals.
"Who are you and what's your business here?" he asked in an authoritative manner that told Heyes all he needed to know.
"Well, I'd say my business might be similar to yours," Heyes said as a slow smile spread across his face.
"Is that so?" the white haired man asked.
By now, the gunman had made his way across the yard and stood beside the leader. Two other young men flanked them as well. All three had guns drawn and aimed at the riders.
"Who are you?" the man in charge asked again.
"I'm Hannibal Heyes, and this is Kid Curry,"
"Really, and I'm Jesse James," the white haired man replied, straight-faced. Several of the young men who were now standing around them began to laugh or snicker.
Kid stiffened and looked at his partner. Heyes continued to smile pleasantly at the man standing in front of him.
"How do you account for us knowing the way into Devil's Hole?" he asked. "The only thing I can't figure is how you knew the way in. I haven't heard of anybody using this place since the last of our boys cleared out."
The leader considered this for a moment, and then turned to one of the young men by his side. "Go get Charlie, bring him out here," he told him.
"Right away, White," the boy said and hurried toward the cabins.
"Charlie?" Kid asked. Heyes shrugged. They'd known several men named Charlie over the years.
"Mr. White?" Heyes asked, "Would you mind if we got down off our horses? We've had a long ride and we'd like to stretch our legs."
"All right, you can get down, but hand over your guns first."
Kid glared at the man and made no attempt to move.
Heyes removed his gun and handed it to the man standing closest to him. "Come on, Kid, we'd have done the same thing if someone had ridden in here like this when we were runnin' things."
"Nobody ever rode in unannounced…when we were runnin' things," Kid said with a glance at the two young men who had been the lookouts. Both of them bristled slightly at the rebuke. Kid handed over his gun with a scornful grunt.
"Foster, McGill, you boys get on back to your post, and I don't want to see any more men riding in here unless you've got their guns. Is that understood?" White scowled at the two young men.
"Yes sir, right away." The two wheeled their horses around and rode quickly back up the trail, relieved to be sent away with only a warning.
Heyes and Curry dismounted and waited uneasily for the man named Charlie to arrive. It only took a few minutes before a group of men hurried toward them.
"Charlie Pickett!" Heyes exclaimed when the man at the center of the group came into view. "The last I heard about you was that you were working on a big spread down in Texas." Charlie was an older man, with a face that showed the wear of years living out on the range. The man had been a top notch chuck wagon cook who'd been involved in rustling in his younger days. Charlie had spent a few months hiding out in Devil's Hole, but never taken part in any robberies. It had been obvious early on that he was no hardened outlaw and Heyes had allowed him to stay on as long as he was willing to cook for the men.
"Howdy, Heyes, Kid. Good to see you boys," Pickett said hesitantly.
"What are you doing here, Charlie? Did you get yourself into trouble again after all these years?" Heyes studied the older man's face.
"Not exactly, Heyes…" Charlie hesitated and looked at White.
"That'll be all, Pickett," the leader said, dismissing the other man. Holstering his pistol, he turned back to the new arrivals. "Well, this is quite an honor. The infamous Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. What brings you two to Devil's Hole after all these years?"
Heyes and Kid exchanged a glance. "Well, Mister White, why don't you invite us in for something to cut this trail dust and we'll tell you." Heyes replied pleasantly.
White's face softened and he smiled, though not entirely warmly. "Sure, let's have a drink."
"It's not Mister White, it's just 'White', on account of his hair," one of the younger men interjected. White scowled at him and the boy suddenly looked fearful.
"That's right," the leader told Heyes. "Just call me White."
"Well, White, do you think you can see fit to give us our guns back now?" Heyes asked, flashing a bright smile.
White's eyes met Heyes' as he considered the request. "After we talk," he said after a moment. "Let's go." White gave his men a nod and they holstered their guns.
White led the way and Heyes followed. The group of men that had gathered began to break up as they either followed Heyes and White or returned to their work around the yard.
Eventually, only Curry and one other man remained. Kid studied the man opposite him. He was tall and lean, with a narrow face and dark eyes. A satisfied smile was fixed on the man's face. Kid recognized the man for what he was—a gunman, and a killer.
"Kid Curry, never thought I'd have a chance to meet you face to face," the man said, with a hint of a challenge in his voice.
Curry stared back in silence.
"Tom Kinsey," the man said after a moment, waiting for Kid to respond.
Kid's face showed no emotion. "I'm going to get that drink," he said, and turned to follow Heyes and White. He'd heard of Kinsey, of course, but he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction.
Tom Kinsey was a hired gun, a man who killed for pay and didn't care whose money it was that bought the kill. He had just begun making a name for himself in Texas and the southwest about the time when Heyes and Kid were embarking on their quest for amnesty. He had never been connected with train robberies before, but then this was no regular gang. Kid had a feeling he had just met Eliza's killer and it was only a matter of time until he settled the score.
Kid followed Heyes and White into the large building across from the cabins. He stood by the door, watching Heyes and White take a seat at a table along the far wall. The room consisted of a long bar and several small tables. Heyes and White settled themselves at the table in the farthest corner of the room. One of the other men brought a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
A dozen men crowded into the makeshift saloon. Most of the outlaws were young and rough looking, an uneducated bunch that had been ripe for the promise of easy money and the thrill of adventure. Only a few looked as if they weren't newcomers to the outlaw trail. One of the seasoned bunch was Ike Ridley, a short, stocky, man who was wanted in several states, including Wyoming. Although Ridley had never ridden with the Devil's Hole gang, he had crossed paths with the gang on a few occasions. Kid glanced back to the corral where he had been standing with Kinsey, expecting to see the man strolling toward the saloon; instead, he saw someone who appeared to be Kinsey riding back up the road that led out of the Hole. Kid glanced nervously at Heyes, but his partner was focused on his conversation with the new leader of Devil's Hole.
"Well now," White began, as he filled the two glasses, "what brings you back to Devil's Hole after all this time?"
"You do," Heyes replied, taking a drink. "You've got quite a gang pulled together here, but you need my help to keep it paying off."
"Oh really?" White laughed, "How is that?"
"You've been robbing the passengers. It's only a matter of time until the railroad insists that all valuable be placed in safes aboard the trains for security purposes."
"That won't be a problem," White said simply.
"I assume you have an inside man, someone you think will get you the safe's combinations. But they don't give those combinations out to very many people. Anyone who knows the combination would be immediately suspected and investigated. You'll lose your contact and all the information he's providing." Heyes let that sink in for a moment. "Unless you had someone else to open the safes, or at least appear to open them." Heyes sat back and watched White's face.
"Appear to open them?" White questioned.
"You get the combinations, just to speed things up, but with me along on the robbery, no one can say for sure that the combinations were leaked. That way, your man will be safe and can continue to provide you with the information you need."
White considered what Heyes had just proposed. "What makes you so sure I have a source inside the railroad?"
Heyes merely shrugged. "You know which trains to stop, which cars are carrying passengers with large sums of money; there's no way you could that without someone at the railroad tipping you off."
"You may be right about the passengers' valuables being moved to a safe. I've considered that myself," White conceded. "Now why don't you tell me why a 'reformed outlaw' like you is offering to help me rob a train?"
"The Kid and I are back in the business. We hit a train last week, just outside of Sweetwater," Heyes answered smugly.
"I'd heard you gave up outlawing almost ten years ago and had a ranch somewhere now," White looked curiously at the man across from him.
"That's what we wanted everyone to think, especially the law. You don't really think 'Hannibal Heyes' was out of the business all together do you? I had to find a way to get the banks and railroads off our backs for a while. We've been living off the railroad's money for years now, right under their noses. It has to run out some time though and now seemed like the right time to come back in and get set again for a nice long time. I don't want to work a ranch for the rest of my life! The Kid and I think a nice retirement in South America would be a whole lot more pleasant."
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Heyes?" White asked, beginning to take an interest.
"A business proposition, White. You have your source find out when the largest amounts of currency or gold will be aboard their trains and then after a few jobs, we all retire rich men."
"I can see your point about the safes, but what do I need him for?" White tilted his head in Curry's direction.
"We're partners, we always work together. You don't get me without him. Besides, he protects our interests—his and mine," Heyes added, with a slight edge to his voice.
"I'll think about it," White said, tossing back the last of the whiskey. "Now, how about a game of poker to pass the time?" the white haired outlaw suggested lightly, setting down his empty glass.
"Sure," Heyes reached into his jacket pocket and removed one of the bundles of money that he and Kid had, presumably, taken from the train they'd stopped the week before. He was becoming more convinced than ever that their precautions had been worth it. Nobody at Midwest, outside of the two detectives, knew that he and Kid hadn't returned to their old ways. Since he had no idea yet who White's contact inside the railroad was, they couldn't afford to take any chances.
White motioned for a few of the other men to join them. Ridley sat down next to White, and a man who called himself 'Shorty' sat next to Heyes. 'Shorty' was well over six feet, with a thick black beard and mustache. Several of the younger men stood around the table and exchanged nervous looks.
"Some of these boys haven't been on a job yet, so they don't have any cash on them, isn't that right, boys?" White gave the young men a rather patronizing smile. "You can watch though, watch and learn. Cooper, you've gotten paid, come on over here." A young man who looked about to be about twenty years old, with red hair and freckles, rushed over to the table and sat down. The boy looked oddly out of place, Heyes thought, in this room full of ruffians.
"Why don't you have your partner join us?" White suggested to Heyes, and Kid walked over, somewhat reluctantly, and sat down at the table. "Dealer's choice," the white haired man stated, as he began to shuffle the cards.
The sound of two distant gunshots brought a momentary halt to the room's activities, but with no more than a nervous glance at White, the men returned to their drinks and cards. Heyes stared at White for a moment before speaking. "What the hell was that?" he asked, afraid he knew exactly what it had been.
White merely shrugged. "Just Kinsey, taking care of business," he replied.
Heyes glanced at his partner. Curry's face told Heyes that he had made the same conclusion as to the reason for the two gunshots. Heyes looked briefly around the room filled with young men eager to make it rich. How many of these men were expendable? Kid, we're going to have to play this one real carefully, he thought to himself as he watched White deal the cards.
