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 Again

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

"Jed cleans up well," chuckled Clem.

Heyes glanced out the door. Mr. Hale in his dark suit and Kid in his blue suit walked side by side down the steps to the street. Kid had been entrusted with carrying the biscuits, while Mr. Hale gingerly held the ornate casserole dish.

"Don't know how you managed to get the wrinkles out," said Heyes. He gestured to the brown suit he wore. "I wouldn't have thought either of us would be wearing these suits today."

Clem stepped closer and reached up her tiny hands to straighten his narrow dark brown tie.

"What's wrong with Jed?" asked Clem in a soft voice.

"Nothing's wrong with Kid," responded Heyes. "It's just been awhile since you've seen him."

"Fourteen and a half months," replied Clem with a little sniff, "not that I'm counting."

Standing by the kitchen door, this was Heyes' first opportunity to speak to Clem alone. He opened his mouth, fully intending to blurt out everything, from the deal Lom arranged with the governor, to winter at Clarence's place in Thunder Ridge, to Seth's gold mine, and Danny…. Heyes swallowed. Was now really the right time to tell Clem about all that? Clem stepped back to the kitchen counter.

"Hold this," ordered the diminutive woman.

Clem handed Heyes two apple pies and then placed a pumpkin pie atop a brown cardboard box. Heyes sniffed. A heady aroma of vanilla and cinnamon overpowered the scent of apples and pumpkin.

"What's in the box?" asked Heyes hopefully. He juggled the pies and held the door open for the pretty brunette. The former outlaw hadn't been so worried about dropping something since the last time he'd handled nitro. "Is it…"

"Something special," replied Clem with a secretive smile as she stepped outside. "For dessert. Later."

Heyes followed Clem down to the street. The slender man again started to tell about the amnesty, figuring that wouldn't be too upsetting, but Clem spoke first.

"He's walking a little stiff," observed Clem.

"Oh, that's nothing," replied Heyes, "he's lots better now. You should have seen him try to stand the first day after the mudslide..."

"What? What mudslide? What happened to him?"

Clem shot questions at Heyes as they walked after Kid and Mr. Hale.

"Clem, will you just listen…?" coaxed Heyes, but the barrage of questions continued non-stop.

"When?" Where? "What do you mean? What happened? Can't you boys keep out of trouble?"

Clem was probably the only person in Colorado, make that the whole country, thought Heyes that could outtalk him. Her rapid fire questions continued as they walked down the road. Heyes tried again.

"Clem!"

"Sssh!" Clem hissed. Ahead of them, Kid and Mr. Hale stood on the porch of a large home waiting for them. A woman held the door open. A smile forced its way upon Clem's face. "We're here. Be nice and try not to say anything that will get you boys in trouble."

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

"Joshua," directed Mr. Hale's lady friend from her place at the head of the table, "you may sit beside my dear Horatio."

Heyes seated himself at the center of the long narrow table between Clem's father and her eldest grandson, a boy of about eight. Clem sat on the woman's other side facing her father. Kid took the chair opposite Heyes. A younger grandson sat beside Kid, followed by yet another child that bounced up and down in the chair despite his mother's best efforts to control him. The father of these rambunctious young children stood at the foot of the table with a large carving knife.

"I hope everyone likes ham," added the lady of the house.

Heyes noted a pair of blue eyes widen in surprise. Kid tried not to let his disappointment show. Heyes plastered a polite smile on his own face.

"Ma'am we appreciate you inviting us to dinner with you and your fine family…"

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

"No thank you," replied Kid. "I just don't have any more room…"

"Take some beets," hissed the boy beside Kid. The child pushed the dish closer to the muscular blond man. "And then pass 'em."

The heavy serving dish laden with bright red pickled beets had been passed around the table at least once already, along with a white bowl full of steamed Brussel sprouts. Both dishes still appeared nearly full. Kid's empty plate showed traces of ham, boiled potatoes, Clem's squash casserole and crumbs from at least three of her biscuits, not that Heyes had been counting. The dark haired man just happened to reach for the biscuits at the same time as his partner. Kid got the last biscuit.

"You have to eat your vegetables," advised the child seated by Heyes side. "Or you won't get any dessert."

Kid frowned. Heyes knew Kid hated pickled beets. The younger Kansan had bravely tried the unfamiliar Brussel sprouts earlier. The expression in his eyes as Kid tasted the squishy round green vegetable told Heyes it wouldn't happen again.

"Thaddeus doesn't have to eat beets," replied Heyes as he came to his partners rescue.

"What about you?" demanded the child.

"Me neither," replied Heyes with a smirk. "But we still get dessert."

Dinner ended soon afterwards when the pickled beets found their way to the floor. Heyes wasn't entirely sure which kid knocked the dish over. Parents and rambunctious children departed upstairs for washing up and bedtime stories.

"Thaddeus, would you help me with the dishes?" asked Clem.

Heyes watched his partner follow Clem into the back recesses of the house carrying a load of dirty plates. He was sure Clem was going to question Kid on the events of the last several months. The sounds of running water mingled with laughter soon echoed down the hallway from the back room.

"We should move into the parlor," suggested the lady of the house.

Heyes was trying so hard to listen to what was happening in the kitchen that he almost missed Mr. Hale's question.

"Would you like a glass of brandy?"

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

Heyes swallowed a sip of the amber liquid and leaned back in his chair trying to relax, but it was hard. Mr. Hale's lady friend simpered in a straight back chair near Clem's father. The pointed nosed woman kept asking questions. Heyes' nimble mind would normally have fabricated a story to keep the woman at bay, but she was Mr. Hale's friend. Clem's warning stayed in his mind. Heyes needed to maintain a semblance of truth.

"What?"

"How long have your known our dear Clementine?" quizzed Mr. Hale's friend.

"Thaddeus and I met Clem…" began Heyes.

"Clementine," corrected the woman in a voice that was just too, too sweet.

Heyes sucked in a deep breath and smiled in the silence that followed the woman's pronouncement. Clem had told him years ago that she preferred the shortened form of her name, but she would let him and Kid call her Clementine as long as they didn't do it too often. Heyes remembered the interchange between Matt and Tattersall, where the murderer insisted on calling the tall blonde Matilda. While Heyes' parents had sometimes called him by his full name, they more frequently used Han. As an adult, the only person who ever had the temerity to call him Hannibal on a regular basis was Big Jim Santana. Dark brown eyes narrowed as Heyes puzzled over this woman's insistence on using Clem's full name.

"We met Clem at school," said Heyes firmly with a small tight smile.

"Hmmph."

Mr. Hale's friend leaned forward and now patted Heyes on the knee. With a calculating look that reminded Heyes of a card sharp, the woman resumed her interrogation. Where are you from? What do you do? Heyes couldn't tell if there was a point to the questions or not, but he responded to the incessant prying in a polite tone. One final personal question brought him up short.

"Are you married Mr. Smith?"

The silver tongue utterly failed.

"Um… uh…," stammered Heyes.

Thankfully his partner returned to the parlor in time to save Heyes from having to make a response.

"Clem baked carrot cake," announced Kid.

He stepped into the room with a serving tray containing a tea pot, cups, saucers, silverware and small plates. Clem followed carrying a cake plate. She set the cake down on the center of the low table in front of the sofa and squeezed in between her father and Heyes.

"Does everybody want a slice?" asked Clem.

"Your prize winning recipe Clem?" asked Heyes.

Clem's hazel eyes met his. A shared memory, years ago at the Fourth of July celebration when Heyes had been newly released from Valparaiso, a fourteen year old girl won the local baking competition with a special carrot cake recipe. It was still Heyes' favorite dessert. A happy smile lit up Clem's face.

"You remembered," said Clem.

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

Everyone in the parlor, except Mr. Hale's lady friend, had some of the carrot cake. Kid made another foray back to the kitchen. He retrieved one of the apple pies from the woman's son and his family and part of the pumpkin pie. The lady ate pumpkin pie. Kid had a slice of pumpkin, a slice of apple and a big helping of carrot cake. Heyes ate two servings of the dark, moist, carrot cake savoring the taste of vanilla and cinnamon, crunching the walnuts. He finally pushed his empty desert plate away.

"No story tonight," sighed Clem. With a pointed glance at her Father's lady friend, she added, "We usually read after dinner."

"You're in luck," declared Mr. Hale's lady friend, "I've got The Atlantic Monthly. You'll love the latest installment of Mr. Henry James story…"

Clem began shaking her head as the woman continued talking.

"The Portrait of a Lady isn't the type of story you and Kid usually read," said Clem in an undertone that only Heyes could hear.

"Clem," reminded Heyes as he leaned closer, "You know I read just about anything and everything."

"You haven't read this!"

"The story couldn't be worse than Daring Dudley and the Tsarina of the Train," replied Heyes with a smirk. He was never going to let Clem forget she gave him that dreadful novel. "A romance between the brave sheriff and that horrible Natahalie?"

"She wasn't that bad," objected Clem in a low whisper. "She loved Dudley."

"Right," snorted Heyes in a tone of disbelief. "This story can't be any worse."

"Don't say I didn't try and warn you," hissed Clem.

Mr. Hale's lady friend read in a monotone. As the woman droned on, Heyes found it hard to keep his eyes open. Kid wasn't the first to start snoring. The sonorous snorts emanating from Mr. Hale's chest did nothing to dissuade the woman from continuing on to the installment's end. Finally, the literary ordeal was over. Heyes reached out and tapped Kid on the shoulder.

"Wake up," chuckled Heyes. "It's time to escort Clem and her father back to their home."

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

The return walk through the darkened Denver streets was quieter. No longer burdened with foodstuffs the foursome set off beneath the clear night sky to make their way back towards the Hale home. Heyes slowed his steps until Kid and Mr. Hale were out of earshot before he asked Clem a question.

"Did Kid tell you about Danny?" asked Heyes.

The smile dropped from Clem's face. She frowned at the dark haired Kansan.

"How could you let him get into so much trouble?! He could have been killed!" hissed Clem. "Why didn't you stop them before it went that far?"

"I tried," protested Heyes. "I told Kid he shouldn't tangle with Danny."

Clem's glare didn't change.

"I told Danny to stay away from Kid," added Heyes.

The look Clem gave Heyes then made him want to sink through the earth all the way to China. Her hazel eyed gaze confirmed his own thoughts. The silver tongue hadn't helped. If anything, Heyes had made matters worse.

"Telling a man not to do something doesn't usually work," snapped Clem. She looked away from him, then sighed. "Heyes, for a genius, sometimes you do really stupid things."

They walked in silence until Fourteenth Street came into view. Clem linked her arm through his. Heyes felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He crooked his elbow just a bit drawing her closer. Then he placed his other hand on top of hers as they continued to walk.

"When he told me about the mudslide, he mentioned a woman named Matt," continued Clem, "but when I asked him about her, he changed the subject."

That wasn't surprising, thought Heyes. Kid wouldn't speak ill of a lady, not even if the lady nearly got him killed.

"What can you tell me about this Matt person?" asked Clem.

"Uh… she's tall," answered Heyes. Under Clem's continued stare, he added, "Really tall."

"What else?" demanded Clem.

"She likes outlaws," responded Heyes, "and has a hobby of reading wanted posters. "

"You say that like it's a bad thing," chuckled Clem.

"It is!" hissed Heyes in exasperation. He ran a hand through his dark hair. At her look, he added, "Not for you I mean, but for her. She knows who we are."

"So do I," replied Clem with a smirk.

"You I trust!" exclaimed Heyes.

Clem tilted her head and looked at Heyes.

"You don't trust Matt?" asked Clem in a puzzled tone. "Why?"

Why indeed, thought Heyes. Kid had found the tall blonde woman easy to talk to, and felt sympathetic to a woman who had lost both her parents, but Heyes remembered the woman's determination to shoot Tattersall. Had Kid been conscious to see her face when Matt pulled the trigger on the old Colt? There was something about the abrupt about face Matt did when Kid asked her if she still wanted Tattersall dead that bothered Heyes.

"She's a liar and she's dangerous!"

"Now who does that remind me of Mr. Smith?" asked Clem with a teasing smile.

"With any luck, we'll never see her again," sighed Heyes.

At least Heyes hoped they would never meet up with Matt again. Clem removed her arm from his elbow as they neared her home. Heyes stopped talking as he and Clem approached the house. Mr. Hale waited on the front steps. Heyes and Kid bade their goodbyes.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning," reminded Heyes.

"Stop by before you leave," urged Clem. "I'll wrap up some leftovers for you to take."

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

The partners were dressed in riding gear once more, holiday finery folded tightly within their bedrolls. By midday, they were well north of Denver. They stopped on a crest overlooking a sloping, rock strewn mountainside. Heyes began to unwrap the brown paper package Clem had given them earlier when they stopped to say goodbye.

"Turkey sandwiches," exclaimed Kid in delight. "I knew she cooked something more than squash casserole and desserts!"

"Biscuits," murmured Heyes. "Don't forget the biscuits, you ate enough of them."

Kid started eating while Heyes continued unwinding the brown paper. Beneath the sandwiches lay another package, small, rectangular and hard. A familiar slim brown volume appeared as he pulled off the last of the paper, Tales by Edgar A. Poe. The note on the inside of the wrapping paper read, Something to take the taste of the Portrait out of your mouth, but be sure to bring my book back. Don't lose it like you did Daring Dudley and the Tsarina of the Train! A soft smile lit up his face as Heyes began reading. All too soon though it was time to ride again.

"Are you sure you want to winter over with good old Uncle Clarence again?" asked Heyes as he climbed back into his saddle. "We could go back to Clarendon. Sheriff Coltrane said we would be welcome."

"That was before I sent the telegram to Johnson," reminded Kid. "We might not be welcome in Texas now."

Heyes tilted his black hat back on his head and smiled. Kid was right. Clarendon was one more town that Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones needed to stay away from.

"So what did Clem say when you told her about the amnesty?"

"Me?" When would I have had time to tell her? Her Pa was sitting right there the whole time!"

"You didn't tell her?!" exclaimed Heyes, "You were in the kitchen together for at least a half hour!"

"We had other things to talk about," Kid protested. "Clem kept asking questions… wanted to know everything we'd been doing and everybody we met… and… and…"

Heyes began to laugh. Kid's description sounded very much like his own interrogation by Clem.

"The next time we see Clem," concluded Kid, "the first word we say is amnesty!"

"Well now Kid," replied Heyes with a chuckle, "that depends upon if she lets us get a word in edgewise."

Kid didn't reply. The blond twisted in his saddle, looking back on the trail where they had just been. A dust cloud was visible in the distance.

"That looks like a posse," said Kid. "I knew the man at the livery in the last town was looking at us funny."

"Yeah Kid," agreed Heyes, "The posse looks like a big one. At least a dozen or more riders."

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

Several months later, in early spring, two men galloped southward out of the small town of Buckton.

"Be glad the wheels of justice turn slow Kid," called Heyes.

"What?" shouted Kid.

"If Belle and the girls had gone to trial while we were snowed in with Clarence at Thunder Ridge," replied Heyes, "you wouldn't have been able to testify on her behalf."

"It ain't justice that those girls and their Ma ever went to trial in the first place!"

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

On a dusky evening in Cheyenne Wyoming, a burly outlaw with a big moustache glared at his little partner.

"What do you mean you didn't get the gunpowder?" seethed Wheat.

The smaller man gestured towards the blue and gray storefront across the street. Through the window panes, a tall blond man could be seen drawing the shades. The store's name, Finest Firearms, was written on a wooden sign above the center window. On the bottom of the glass, six inch letters read Purveyors of Colt Manufacturing Products. The little writing below that, H. Curry, Gunsmith wasn't visible from where the two outlaws stood.

"I just couldn't Wheat," sighed Kyle. "He looks so much like Kid."

"Nah," argued Wheat. "He's nothin' like Kid. That man's got to be a least ten years older and he's got straight hair."

"Wheat," huffed Kyle. "It would be like we was robbin' family."

Wheat eyed his partner. Kyle Murtry was generally one of the most easy-going persons a body could ever hope to meet. But from the stubborn expression on Kyle's face, Wheat knew they weren't getting any gunpowder from this store tonight.

"Fine," agreed Wheat. "Let's see if the Smith and Wesson dealer on Main Street is still open."

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

Kid dipped a cloth in the watering hole and pressed the cool, damp cloth against the back of his neck. Above him the early morning sun beat down on his head. His brown hat hung from the pommel of his saddle as the horse beside him drank from the shallow water. Heyes dismounted and moved to join his partner. Kid now pressed the cloth against the right side of his jaw.

"Stokely sure packs a hard punch," grumbled Kid.

"You didn't have to put your face in the way of his fist," teased Heyes.

Kid snorted in disgust and dipped the cloth back into the cool water.

"Have we been here before?" asked Kid. "Or is everything starting to look the same because we've been riding too much?"

Heyes looked around the watering hole. The spindly little tree growing between a broken tree trunk did seem familiar. The former outlaw frowned in concentration as his horse lowered its head towards the water. Then, a broad smile spread across his face, dimples deepened as he nodded in recognition.

"We stopped here last fall," answered Heyes, "on our way to Raton."

Kid turned his head and looked to the southeast.

"When we rode with Matt," agreed Kid. "I didn't realize we were that close."

That close to Texas wondered Heyes, or that close to Matt? Either one was too close in his opinion.

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

Heyes groaned as he climbed down from the stage. He placed his hands on his hips and arched his back. It might be his imagination, but the stage from Apache Springs seemed harder than most.

"Thaddeus," greeted Heyes as his partner finally poked his head out of the stage door. "What would you say if I offered to buy you a drink?"

"I'd say yes," replied the muscular blond with a big grin. "And I might even offer to buy you a drink."

The bartender poured two shots of a dark amber liquid. Heyes picked up the little glass and raised it towards his lips when he heard a familiar voice.

"Well if it ain't Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones," greeted a brightly clad woman.

Heyes turned to face the new arrival.

"Lurene," acknowledged Heyes as he pushed himself away from the bar and stood up straight.

Beside him, Kid spluttered and choked as the sip of whisky went down the wrong way. The saloon hostess put one hand on her hip and looked at the two men.

"You know boys," said Lurene, "I have to thank you."

"Thank us?" coughed Curry as he turned towards the woman.

"For what?" asked Heyes smoothly.

"For sending me that telegram," replied Lurene as she approached the two men. "Changed my life."

The two Kansans exchanged a surprised glance.

"Best news I ever got," continued Lurene.

"Best news?" asked Kid. "I was worried the news would make you feel sad."

"No, don't get me wrong. Finding out Danny was dead made me feel real bad," continued Lurene in a matter of fact tone. She lowered her voice. "I was really in the dumps for…" Lurene gave a deep sigh, "almost a whole half hour."

"Ma'am," began Kid.

Lurene held up one hand stopping him from continuing.

"You know, even if Danny wasn't dead," mused Lurene. Both hands moved to her hips. "I don't think that man was ever planning on coming back."

"Now Lurene…," began Heyes.

"But I moved on," interrupted Lurene. "Glad I didn't waste years waiting for a man that wasn't ever coming back. Sam and I got this place now."

She held out her hands to gesture to the entire bar.

"Isn't it wonderful!

Heyes and Kid looked around the saloon. It wasn't much different than the one in which they had first met Lurene, but they weren't going to be so rude as to argue with a lady. Both men nodded in agreement.

"And I owe it all to you," said Lurene. "Can I buy you boys a drink?"

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

"You know Clem's gonna ask why we rode straight down to New Mexico last spring without stopping in Denver to say hello," said Kid.

"I think Clem will be glad that we didn't bring a posse to her front door," said Heyes.

Clem's father opened the door at Heyes knock.

"May I help you?" asked the stout older man looking a little puzzled.

"Good day Mr. Hale," replied Heyes. He gestured to Kid and then to himself. "We're here to see Clem."

"You boys must not have received her letter," began Mr. Hale.

"Letter?" asked Heyes.

"Clem is moving to Albuquerque," replied Mr. Hale. "If you hurry, you might catch her before the train leaves."

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

"There," said Kid as he pointed towards the end of the train station.

A tiny woman dressed primly in blue and white stood beside a steamer trunk with a small carpet bag placed on top. Just beyond Clem, the train conductor updated a chalk board with the date August 22 and time 4:20 pm. Then the barrel chested man announced the first call for passenger boarding. The brunette picked up the carpet bag and stepped forward.

"Clem!" yelled Kid. The muscular blond began to make his way across the crowded platform. "Excuse me… excuse me."

"Clem!" called Heyes as he followed after Kid.

Clem turned towards the sound of their voices. Her mouth opened in a wide smile.

"Boys!" greeted the hazel eyed brunette.

Kid was the first to reach her. She jumped up into his arms and grasped his face with each of her small hands. Kid responded to her kiss thoroughly. A man down by the freight cars gave a wolf whistle.

"Save some for me!" exclaimed Heyes.

Kid set Clem back down on her feet and she turned to greet him. Heyes lifted Clem up. Lips pressed firmly against his. Heyes breathed in the scent of vanilla extract. The conductor called All aboard! Clem arched back. Hazel eyes were mere inches from dark brown eyes. He could count the freckles on her nose.

"You should set me down now," whispered Clem.

Heyes nodded, and reluctantly set her feet back on the floor.

"Why are you leaving Denver Clem?" asked Heyes. "The town has been your home for over ten years…"

An incoherent babble of words came out of Clem's mouth. Independence, freedom, privacy, grown woman, a mind of my own, and ended with an indignant I'm not a little child, and left Heyes blinking in confusion. The conductor shouted Last call!

"Where are you going Clem?" asked Kid as he hugged her once more. "Do you have a mailing address?"

"You can reach me via my dear friend Georgette Sinclair, in Albuquerque New Mexico," replied the diminutive woman.

The train whistle blew. Kid scooped Clem up and deposited her on the landing in front of the door to the passenger compartment. She cupped her hand to her mouth and shouted.

"Do you have my book?" called Clem. At Heyes guilty look, she exclaimed. "Don't tell me you lost another one!"

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

On a trail approaching Laramie, the partners ran into a familiar figure. The lawman was headed south.

"Howdy boys," greeted Sheriff Coltrane.

The lawman tilted his white hat in greeting and reined in his horse. Kid nodded and pulled back on the reins of his gelding. Heyes' mare did a jittery little side step before stopping between the two men.

"Sheriff," replied Heyes with a broad smile hiding his unease, "what an unexpected pleasure. What are you doing in Wyoming?"

"Took a prisoner up to the territorial prison," replied Coltrane. He must have seen something in their expression, because he added, "Man was a real bad 'un."

The steely eyed man looked at them for a moment, then smiled.

"Glad to see you boys again," said Coltrane. "I wanted to thank you both for helping Mattie out. She didn't take it kindly when I wouldn't let her ride with the posse."

Heyes remembered sending the sheriff a telegraph from Poncha Springs last fall. He had thought the lawman would want to know that the murderer his posse had lost was brought to jail. To Heyes' surprise, the response he received was more concerned with getting the tall blonde woman back to Texas than the prisoner.

"Our pleasure," responded Kid in a low voice.

"Don't hold all that misbehaving against her," continued Coltrane.

"Misbehaving?" asked Heyes. His voice sounded tight and low to his own ears. "Is that what you call chasing a man across three states intent on shooting him?"

"No, but that ain't like her," answered Coltrane with a frown. The hands on the reins tightened a bit. "Mattie's a good girl really."

"Hah," exclaimed Heyes. "And how do you know this?"

"Mattie's family," said the lawman. There was a pause. Bushy gray eyebrows narrowed over even grayer eyes. "She just went a little wild after her Ma died. And then when Anselm… well… I guess she thought it was her fault and she wanted to make it right."

Coltrane looked down at the hooves of the horses. The murdered man, Matt's Pa Anselm Meyer, had been Coltrane's friend. Heyes remembered Clem telling him once that friends are the family you get to choose yourself. Was that what Coltrane meant? Or something more? After a moment, Coltrane raised his eyes again and gazed directly at Kid.

"Leroy Johnson sure appreciated that telegram you sent," said the tall Texan. "He said if you ever come back to Clarendon, he wants to shake your hand."

"I don't reckon we're going to be in Texas anytime soon," replied the tall blond man.

Kid shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and glanced away. Coltrane glanced at Heyes. The brown eyed man had his back teeth clamped together tightly forcing a smile to stay on his face. Coltrane's eyes lit up as he realized the source of Kid's discomfort.

"Sheriff in Matherville said Bilson or whatever his name was provoked the gunfight," reminded Coltrane. "Ain't nobody saying otherwise."

The sheriff nudged his horse forward. Coltrane just had one more thing to say.

"You boys are welcome in Clarendon anytime."

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

"It ain't quite the same as being snowed in on Thunder Ridge," grumbled Kid. "Hit me."

"Well, I'll admit that this Clarence isn't the same as your Uncle Clarence," chuckled Heyes as he dealt the Kid another card. "And Thunder Ridge does have a few more people now…"

"A lot more if you count all the children," reminded Kid. The blue eyed man cleared his throat and repeated, "Hit me."

"I always count kids," smirked Heyes. Nimble fingers turned up another card for his partner.

"Twenty-two," groaned Kid.

"We just need to be happy with what we've got," reminded Heyes. "Take a page from your good old Uncle Clarence."

"Huh?" asked Kid.

Heyes shuffled the cards, thinking about their old friend. The one-legged former outlaw was one of the happiest men Heyes knew.

"He's always laughing and smiling," reminded Heyes. "He thinks that tumbledown shack he calls home is wonderful. Always says he's sitting on a gold mine."

Kid nodded and smiled in agreement as he remembered their old friend. Heyes swung his hand in a sweeping gesture that encompassed the spacious cabin and its sleeping occupants.

"Think how lucky we are," said Heyes. "Safe, warm, no one chasing us, plenty of food…"

"We're together, and if we're lucky, we'll have venison for Thanksgiving this year," coughed Kid.

The dark haired Kansan leaned in close to Kid and tapped the deck of cards

"And if we're even luckier," replied Heyes, "maybe they'll get bored and want to play poker."

"Anything's better than blackjack."

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

"You know Heyes," said Kid as the two men turned away from the Chauncey Beauregard memorial hospital wing, "while we're out here, there is one more thing I'd like to see."

"What's that?"

The winding narrow trail led down from the wooded ridge to the sandy beach below.

"Kid," called Heyes, "you've seen it! What more do you want?"

"I want to touch it," insisted the blue eyed man.

Heyes rolled his dark brown eyes and sighed. The strategist pulled out his biggest weapon.

"We won't make it back to Silky's for dinner tonight," reminded Heyes.

Kid didn't even reply. Heyes looked at the trees and the little trickling stream that followed the trail down towards the ocean. They could build a fire and camp out, go back to Silky's tomorrow. Ahead of him, Kid rode his horse straight across the beach into the edge of the blue water. Kid stopped. He still hadn't moved by the time Heyes joined him. Small waves rolled into shore. Larger waves, topped with white, broke upon a distant sandbar.

"It's bigger than the Gulf of Mexico," said Kid. His blue eyes didn't move from the even bluer horizon.

"Yeah Kid," replied Heyes, "it's the Pacific ocean. It's the biggest ocean in the world."

Kid turned his horse and rode back to the base of the trail. He dismounted and tethered the animal in a shady spot near the freshwater stream. Then the muscular blond man sat down on the sand and began to pull off his boots.

"Kid," exclaimed Heyes, "what are you doing?"

"I'm going swimming," replied his partner. Blue eyes looked up at Heyes. "You coming?"

Heyes grumbled as he dismounted and tethered his horse, but he took off his boots and began unbuttoning his shirt. Both men were soon down to their longjohns. Kid stood up and waited for Heyes. The slender dark haired man stepped towards the beach. Then Heyes glanced over his shoulder. With a smirk, Heyes shouted.

"Race you!"

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

"What are you doing?" demanded Heyes another time. "Another few minutes and you would have told that nun our whole life story!"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to lie to a nun?" demanded Kid.

"You didn't have to tell her we were orphans!

"I told her we ran away together when we were both fifteen," reminded Kid. "We didn't leave together, and we aren't the same age."

"Yeah," agreed Heyes, his voice softened, "and we weren't running."

"You might not have been running," replied Kid, "but I wanted out of there as fast as I could get."

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

Heyes swallowed and closed his eyes in relief as the Marshall left the Denver hotel room. The blood pounding in his veins made it hard to hear Kid's comment about a closet, but he nodded in agreement anyway.

"Clem," said Heyes when he finally got his breathing under control, "No more schemes, nothing illegal."

"Not ever again," added Kid firmly.

It seemed odd to be telling the most honest person he and Kid knew that she couldn't run a con. Heyes never would have thought those words would be coming out of his mouth.

"I was desperate," said Clem. Her hazel eyes glistened. "Dragging you boys into this wasn't the best decision I've ever made, but at the time it seemed like the only thing to do."

"We'll always be there to help you," said Kid, he ducked his head and looked half proud and half embarrassed. "But nothing illegal, we're trying to go straight."

"Clem, we've been meaning to tell you," added Heyes at Clem's shocked look, "Lom made a deal with the territorial governor. If Kid and I can keep out of trouble…"

"The governor might grant us amnesty," finished Kid. He lips curled up in a little smile, "Someday."

"Really? That's wonderful!" replied Clem with a bright smile. Then her hazel eyes narrowed. "Is that why you chased after me last August? You wanted to know if I was related to William Hale!"

"Now Clem, you know us better than that," began Heyes.

The tiny woman placed her hands on her hips and her bottom lip poked out in a frown.

"It is! I know it is," insisted Clem. "You thought I could get the governor to be more lenient with you."

"Clem we didn't even know Governor Hoyt had been replaced by Hale then," responded Heyes.

"Your amnesty deal was with Governor Hoyt?" asked Clem.

"First with Hoyt," answered Kid.

"Now we've got the same deal with Hale," added Heyes.

Hazel eyes stared accusingly from one Kansan to the other.

"How long have you been keeping this a secret?"

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

"Uncle Mac was real grateful to us for saving him from that murder charge," said Kid.

"Yeah," agreed Heyes, "he even let us keep some of the money we earned."

"You're poker playing skills must be getting rusty Heyes," chuckled Kid as they continued northwards across Texas.

They camped that night under a clear August sky. Stars twinkled brightly and Heyes tried to name the constellations for Kid.

"I can't remember them," sighed the brown haired Kansan. "Pa had a book, but…"

"Your Pa had a lot of books," remembered Kid trying to distract Heyes from the memory of a burning homestead.

"Schoolteacher's usually do," replied Heyes. "I just wish I could remember their names. Each of the constellations has a story…"

"Heyes, don't worry about it," soothed Kid. The muscular blond waved a hand. "We can find out their names and the stories about them some other time. Tonight, all we have to do is watch."

The next morning they continued north, northwest. The last time they had travelled this route had been by stage a little over three years ago. When they came to the cross roads, they stopped and looked at each other.

"Clarendon's closest," said Kid. "It would be nice to sleep in a hotel tonight."

"The law knows us in Clarendon," objected Heyes.

"Right Heyes," agreed Kid. He turned his horse down the road to Clarendon. "The law know us there and said we were welcome. Wouldn't you rather stop there than some place where the law don't know us or worse yet knows us and don't want us?"

Brown eyes blinked. Heyes turned his horse to trail after his partner.

"Kid," called Heyes, "what's the real reason you want to go there?"

The muscular blond glanced over his shoulder. Sunlight glinted of the silver and turquoise trim on his brown hat.

"Heyes, you didn't try Eula Mae's peach cobbler," said Kid, "or you wouldn't be asking that."

It was early evening when the two former outlaws rode into Clarendon. They stopped at the livery first and settled their horses. Then two hungry men checked in at the hotel.

"We'll just drop off our things, then go over to the diner for supper," said Heyes as he accepted the room key.

The little bell above the door tinkled as Heyes pushed it open. Inside, Claude stood beside a table with a pad in hand writing down an order. Heyes recognized the Monroe family at the back corner table. A steely eyed gray haired man waved from a side table.

"Sheriff Coltrane," greeted Heyes as he approached the table.

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones," responded Coltrane. He gestured towards the empty seats across from his chair. "Would you care to join me for supper?"

"Don't mind if we do," replied Kid.

Heyes took one seat, while Kid took the other. Kid looked around eagerly.

"Claude's the only one working right now," chuckled the sheriff, "so you will have to be patient about getting your order taken."

"Eula Mae's not working here?" asked Heyes.

"She should be here shortly," began Coltrane. The gray eyes looked up as the bells on the front door jingled again. "Oh there she is."

A fair haired woman entered carrying a squirming bundle of pink and white, cotton and lace. Eula Mae and her baby were followed by another familiar face. The tall blonde woman's face lit up with a smile. Chairs scraped across the wooden floor as the men stood up to greet the women.

"Papa," said Eula Mae, thrusting the infant towards the sheriff, "would you hold Lucinda? That way I can get these folks supper."

"Congratulations seem to be in order," remarked Heyes with a big grin.

Somehow in all the commotion of welcomes and admiring a new baby, Heyes found himself seated at the opposite end of the table from Coltrane. Kid was beside the sheriff now. Kid appeared to be fascinated by the little child held within the sheriff's arms. Matt was seated between Heyes and Kid. Heyes leaned forward over the edge of the table and spoke in a low voice.

"So what name are you using now?" asked Heyes.

"I'm Matt," reminded the tall woman.

"I meant your last name," hissed Heyes.

"Like some other people I know, I don't use my real last name," frowned Matt. The tall woman leaned forward and whispered in Heyes' ear, "you wouldn't believe what the law says a woman has to do to get a divorce!"

"Thought you'd be a widow by now," said Heyes in surprise. "Didn't the law hang Tattersall?"

"No, more's the pity," huffed Matt. "He got soft judge and life in prison."

Eula Mae arrived with plates full of food, so both Heyes and Matt sat back to enjoy the dinner and the conversation turned to more general topics. A short while later, the dark haired Kansan paid his bill and stood up, ready to return to the hotel room.

"Huh?"

Kid looked up at Heyes.

"Alright Joshua," agreed Kid. "You go ahead on, I'll be up after awhile."

"Well don't talk too much Thaddeus," replied Heyes. "You know you need your beauty sleep."

Wan moonlight streamed through the big front window of the hotel room when Heyes heard the door swing open. Kid quietly walked in.

"What took so long?" asked Heyes.

"Matt and I got to talkin'," replied Kid with a yawn. "Then the baby started fussing, so we offered to wash the dishes for Eula Mae and Claude. They were real happy to take Lucinda home early."

"Well get some sleep, morning will be here soon and then we need to ride out of here," replied Heyes before he rolled over.

"It wouldn't hurt to rest up a day or two, would it?" asked Kid softly.

"What?" Heyes rolled back over and stared at his partner.

"It's just... Matt said the church is having an all you can eat fried chicken supper Saturday night," explained Kid.

"You want to do this?"

"It would be a nice change from riding," replied Kid. He didn't say more than that, but Heyes recognized the expression on Kid's face. This was something Kid wanted, maybe even more than seeing the Pacific ocean.

"Will there be music and dancing?" asked Heyes trying for a light tone.

"Music," answered Kid with a nod, "but I don't know about dancing."

Saturday night, Heyes watched the crowd in the social hall. The fiddler was good. The guitar player was better. Most of the adults had stood up for a square dance or two, but now the musicians were playing something soft and slow. The center dance floor was crowded. Heyes glanced to the side. He wasn't sure if what Kid and Matt were doing was really dancing, it looked more like a hug swaying back and forth. He could just barely make out Kid's voice.

"Now left, two, three," instructed Kid, "Ow!"

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

Heyes rolled his cousin over. Dark brown eyes stared at the dusty blond. Was Kid even breathing?

"Kid," whispered Heyes. He brushed dark brown hair back from his eyes and swallowed, the taste of hot dry sand upon his tongue. "Kid, are you alright?"

There was no answer. Heyes reached a slender hand forward and felt Kid's head. Behind Kid's left ear, just above the tiny white scar, a swollen lump was visible. Heyes' fingertips brushed against something hard. A rock. Heyes stared at the misshapen lump of off-white stone. He grabbed the rock and hurled it as far as he could. Then he looked back at his partner.

"Kid."

It seemed like forever before Heyes saw his cousin's Adam's apple bob up and down. Blue eyes blinked and closed, then blinked open once more. This time Kid focused on Heyes.

"What did you do?" rasped Kid. "Jump off the train?"

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

"I would never have thought of Clem falling for the Alcalde," grumbled Heyes as they rode through the desert.

"She didn't," said Kid as he passed into the shade provided by two tall rocks. "I mean, maybe a little bit infatuation, but mainly I think she was just acting out to prove to herself that someone wanted her."

"Now why would she do a thing like that Kid?" asked Heyes.

"You hurt her feelings."

"What?" asked Heyes. "You know I'd never hurt Clem!"

"Not on purpose," agreed Kid, "but she was all set to be Mrs. Smith and you turned her into Mrs. Jones."

Heyes stopped the horse he was riding and turned to glare at his partner.

"Nah Kid, you're wrong."

"Use your brains Heyes," sighed Kid. "It don't take a genius to figure that out."

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

"You're bleeding again," said Kid. "You shouldn't have tried to help dig Marty's grave."

Kid pressed the cloth in his hand against Heyes's temple. Brown eyes winced.

"Ow! Watch it with that thing," hissed Heyes.

"Sorry," replied Kid. The he pressed the cloth against Heyes' head again eliciting another hiss. "We were lucky today. Don't think we've had that many guns firing at us since the last train job we pulled."

Heyes remembered. The last train job. The one where a little old lady told Kid about amnesty. Kid had told Heyes that they needed to get out of the outlaw business. Was today a sign that they needed to get out of the trying for amnesty business?

"Kid, when we get to town," said Heyes, "we should send Lom a telegram."

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

Heyes stared at the return telegram from Lom. The message was simple. Come to Porterville. We need to talk.

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