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 No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.
Chapter 10: Meetings
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"Why do you want to break into Frederick Houseman's Friendly Finances tonight?" asked Harry in a snide tone.
Heyes and Kid looked up from the newspaper spread across the mahogany table. At the far length of the parlor, the suave blond conman leaned against the door frame to his bedroom, arms folded across his chest, a sneer curled up his lips.
"Good morning Harry," replied Heyes. The dark haired man forced a smile across his face, forced his voice to remain calm and level. "Didn't know you were up already."
"Didn't know you were listening to us talk neither," grumbled Kid. His blue eyes flashed in irritation. His left hand reached over and rubbed the knuckles of his right hand. "There you go, sneakin' around again. I told you Wednesday night, that kinda behavior is hazardous for your health!"
"Ooh," mocked Harry with a pretend pout. "Where are my manners?"
The twenty-one year old started to rise, but Heyes' hand shot out and grasped his partner's forearm. Harry sauntered over to the partners. The old man leaned over the table, lowering his face to meet Kid's.
"I heard you say we need to go to Unfriendly Finances now, tonight!" hissed Harry. "Why? Why are you so determined to mess up all our hard work on this con?"
"I ain't messin' up anything. This con of yours is taking too long," retorted Kid.
Kid's index finger jabbed at the headline.
"Did you see this?" demanded Kid. "There might not be anything left to retrieve for Silky if we don't hurry. One of Freddy's restaurant burned to the ground last night!"
Harry didn't even look at the newspaper. The forty year old pushed back from the table and stood up straight.
"Hah! Just because there's a fire at the sausage shop you're worried?" sneered Harry. "A murder every night, a fire every day. That sounds like business as usual in this town."
Heyes blinked in disbelief at the man's callousness, but Harry wasn't done talking. The angry man turned to Heyes.
"Do you even know where he's been going every night?" demanded Harry. "He dresses up in his regular clothes at night to go out to that saloon and walk his lady friend back to the Palace."
"Of course I know where he goes," replied Heyes with a smirk. "And Kid only walks her back from the saloon when she's there until closing."
Harry's jaw dropped open.
"You knew about that?" asked Harry.
"Kid told us about her the night of the ball," reminded Heyes. He bestowed a beatific smile upon Harry. "I thought you were interested in Miss Adler. Don't tell me you're jealous."
"I ain't jealous, I'm worried!" snapped Harry. "Your partner's not staying with the plan! Our con depends upon him portraying Prince Wilhelm!"
"I've been doing everything you asked me to as Prince Wilhelm," warned Kid in a low tone.
The young shootist's quiet words sounded far more dangerous than Harry's rant. Kid arched his shoulders back and rose to stand, hands held loosely at his side, almost as if he were readying himself for a fast draw. Kid's blue eyes narrowed.
"I've been shopping for all those fancy clothes you said Prince Wilhelm needed even though I don't like shopping," Kid reported. He fired additional reminders. "I've been to the chocolatiers, the theater, the San Francisco Art Association, three California Historical Society meetings, and to more tea parties than I could ever imagine!"
The normally quiet, soft spoken young man sucked in a deep breath. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Kid spoke first.
"I stood up for hours shaking hands with people I'd never met before and haven't seen since!" shot out Kid. "The only thing Prince Wilhelm hasn't done is dance at that stupid ball!"
Heyes tried to swallow a smirk. His partner's patience with this elaborate con had definitely worn thin. Harry threw his hands up in the air.
"Can't you control your partner?" protested Harry in exasperation. "I'm getting tired of having to follow him around and make sure he gets back to the Palace safely!"
"What?" exploded Kid. "Is that why you've been following me around? Because you think you need to protect me?"
Harry spun around to face Kid once more and glared at the younger man.
"You don't know San Francisco!" hissed Harry. "Here, nobody knows you and nobody cares if Kid Curry is a bad man from Wyoming."
Heyes bolted upright. His arms spread wide to either side, keeping Kid and Harry apart.
"Harry, I appreciate your watching over my partner," smiled Heyes. "But you really don't have to…"
"Yes I do! We can't pull off this con without our Prince!" interrupted Harry.
Heyes struggled to keep his own temper in check. Abruptly the conman stepped back.
"The plan is finally coming together, our Prince has been invited to the Roaring Tiger Friday after next," snapped Harry. "So keep him in line! Stay away from Houseman's loan office."
Harry spun on his heels and stalked back to his room. Kid's blue eyed glare followed the man. It wasn't until Harry's bedroom door shut that the partners rocked back on their heels. Tension drained from their stance. Blue eyes met brown. Heyes quirked an eyebrow up and gave a pointed look at Kid's right hand.
"I was wondering how you got that bruise," prodded Heyes. "What did you do, punch Harry for following you?"
Kid glanced down at the bruised knuckles on his right hand.
"Nah," replied Kid shaking his head. "Harry was concentrating on following me. He never noticed the fella following him."
"What do you mean?" asked Heyes.
"Heyes, Harry is right about one thing. San Francisco is a dangerous city," replied Kid with a soft chuckle. "I had to convince the fella that Harry's pockets weren't worth picking."
"And Harry doesn't know?"
"No, he was up the street trying to figure out where I had gone," answered Kid shaking his head. "After I dealt with the fella, I got back in front of Harry and let him find me again."
"At least now we know why Harry's been following you," smirked Heyes. "And Prince Wilhelm has finally got an invitation to Freddy's private club."
"Do you think I ought to tell Harry just how many times I've saved his neck over these past weeks?"
"No Kid," replied Heyes with a dimpled smile, "it might be to our benefit if Harry keeps on underestimating you."
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Heyes tilted his black pointed hat up as the sound of footsteps faded. He glanced to the right. The laughing couple continued on, arm in arm, totally oblivious to the slender man they had just passed. As the couple disappeared around the corner, Heyes pushed off the wall. He couldn't lean against the building any longer. The unseasonably warm weather made bricks and masonry hot to the touch even an hour after sundown. He untied his black bandana from his throat and wiped perspiration from his forehead. The sound of boot steps on paving stones alerted Heyes to another arrival. The safe cracker turned to see his partner approaching.
"About time you got here," muttered Heyes.
Heyes squinted as Kid neared. There was something different about Kid's attire. The sturdy blond wore his familiar dark red shirt and brown vest over a pair of heavy blue pants adorned with tiny metal rivets.
"What took you so long?" greeted Heyes
"Heyes, I don't like splitting up, but we agreed to stick with Harry's plan on the surface," reminded Kid in a level tone. "I keep playing at being a prince and running up debts until we get all of Silky's deeds, stocks, bonds and whatever else he's missing."
"I thought Harry was taking you and George shopping," grumbled Heyes. "You should have been back at the Palace hours ago."
Kid stopped in front of Heyes. The twenty-one year old rolled his eyes.
"You ain't been shopping with George lately," huffed Kid. "She had a list. I think we went to every store on her list at least once, mighta gone to some of them places twice."
"More shopping!" grumbled Heyes. "Is that where you got the fancy pants?"
"Fella named Strauss has a place on Sacramento Street," nodded Kid. "Don't worry, I got you a pair too."
"Why would I want pants with rivets on them?" asked Heyes.
"Fella says the rivets make the pants hold up better," answered Kid. "He and his partner have a patent on the process, but I bought them because I think they're comfortable."
The slender man regarded his partner. The last item of apparel that Kid had bought and called comfortable were the boots he got in Denver.
"Comfortable, huh?" questioned Heyes. "Even with them rivets poking out all over?"
"Yeah Heyes, the pants are comfortable. Now are we gonna stand out here all night talking?" asked Kid. "Or go inside?"
The tactician shook his head. Heyes made an elaborate sweep of his arm and gestured towards the front door.
"Shall we?" asked Heyes.
"Shouldn't we try the back?" objected Kid.
Kid pointed towards the narrow space between the buildings. They would have to walk single file. The opening was hardly wide enough for one man to go through. Heyes shook his head.
"No Kid, the key fits the front door. I already opened it," replied Heyes. At Kid's glare, he added, "What? I got bored waiting for you!"
Once inside the finance building, Kid pulled the door shut behind them. Light filtered through the tops of the shuttered front windows. There were two front rooms on either side of a narrow corridor.
"No safes here," murmured Heyes.
The strategist stepped further down the corridor into the darkness. Kid struck a match on the frame of the second set of doors. Blocked by the adjacent buildings on either side, the window had barely any light shining into the rooms.
"No safes here either," stated Kid.
Heyes moved toward the rearmost set of rooms, while Kid took a moment to light the candle and insert the shade into the holder. The flickering flame lit up the room on the right.
"Nothing but a desk and more file cabinets," grumbled Heyes.
The dark haired outlaw turned to face the last doorway. Unlike the others, this one actually had a door. Heyes placed his hand on the knob, it twisted beneath his touch, Heyes pushed the door open.
"Ewww!"
The scuttling noise of multitudes of brown and black bugs slithering into cracks and crevices nearly drowned out the partner's hiss of disgust. The remains of someone's leftover meal sprawled over the edges of a waste bin. Just past the bin a shiny new Pierce and Hamilton safe loomed over the room.
"Figures," groused Heyes. "Someone forgot to take out the trash."
Kid moved the dripping waste bin as Heyes knelt in front of the black and gilt trimmed safe. The safe cracker leaned in close and placed the side of his face against the cool metal. He closed his eyes and started to turn the dials, listening. Kid stomped his boot. Heyes jerked back, brown eyes widening at the sudden sound.
"Would you quit that?" hissed Heyes.
"Did you want any of them bugs to come crawling up your leg?"
Heyes didn't say anything for nearly a full minute.
"Stomp quietly Kid," replied Heyes finally.
Heyes closed his eyes once more, listened and spun the dial. Click. Turn the other way. Click. Spin. Click. A deep breath. He pulled the handle down and opened the door. The safe was crammed full of papers.
"Do you see Silky's deeds?" asked Kid from the doorway.
"I don't know Kid," shrugged Heyes. He reached in and pulled out a wad of papers. "Bills of lading, IOU's, money, there must be hundreds of papers in here."
"We don't got time for that Heyes," cautioned Kid. "We've been here too long already. Feel for the heavy papers, grab them and let's go."
Heyes closed his eyes again. Nimble fingers reached into the mass of papers. Rustling. Fingers grasped a precious few documents on heavy paper. Heyes tucked them inside his vest. Leaving the safe door open, Heyes moved to join his partner as Kid stepped out into the corridor. The cautious man of action blew out the candle and pushed the rear door.
"Kid," Heyes shook his head, "you don't wanna…"
The door opened to reveal a narrow passageway cluttered with debris and four outhouses lined up in a row. Kid sniffed. He turned to look at Heyes.
"It wasn't like this when we cased it before," stated Kid.
"Heat wave makes it smell worse," replied Heyes.
"No matter what it smells like," urged Kid, "we've got to…"
Kid's words were cut off by the sound of the front door opening. The partners turned to see a man dressed in a black suit, with a bowler hat upon his head, and a large staff in his right hand. The clipped British accent was immediately identifiable.
"You two again," stated Han Li in recognition. The Oriental man tilted his head to one side. "You must like trouble."
"Actually, that would be my partner," smiled Heyes. The loquacious man spread his hands wide in the dim light to show that they were empty and rambled on. "He can't seem to stay away from trouble. Me, I like…"
"We were just leaving," interrupted Kid.
Heyes inhaled sharply, sure that the leader of the street gang would object. Instead, the man stepped to one side.
"Indeed," agreed Han, "I think that is a very good idea."
The Oriental man beckoned for them to come down the corridor. As Heyes approached, he spoke again.
"It seems we have a mutual concern with Mr. Houseman. Did you find your papers this time?" asked Han.
"No," replied Heyes, hoping that the man wouldn't search him or Kid. "But if you're interested, we left the safe open."
A chilling smile spread across the man's face. He turned and spoke two sharp words to the seemingly empty street outside. A man dressed in black appeared from the shadows.
"Although it is a happy accident that we meet again, you should go now," urged Han.
Heyes and Kid hurried out the door. They passed the man Han had called as he entered. In the shadowed street, more men dressed in black appeared but made no signs of aggression. No one stopped the partners as they strode quickly towards Second Street. They were three streets away when they heard a rumbling boom.
"That sounds like Kyle setting off a charge of dynamite," huffed Kid. "Do you reckon Han blew up Freddy's building?"
"Kinda hard to burn brick and mortar Kid," reminded Heyes, "of course the paneling and all those files…"
The first fire alarm rang out within minutes. A fire wagon passed them two blocks later. Two streets further another fire wagon and the Hayes truck passed them as well.
"We've got to stop meeting that fella," hissed Kid as they turned the corner.
"You're right, I don't want any more happy accidents," agreed Heyes.
"It's the unhappy accidents I'm worried about!" declared Kid.
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The front door to Silky's brownstone opened a crack. A pair of eyes peered through. Silky's wispy white hair appeared mussed.
"Silky," greeted Heyes.
The older conman held a finger to his lips and shook his head.
"Sssh!"
Heyes tensed. Beside him, Kid leaned in, placing his hand against the door, pressing it further open.
"Silky, are you alright? Is something wrong?"
The septuagenarian shook his head from left to right, but from behind him a female voice spoke.
"Papa O'Sullivan."
The front door swung wide open as Kid leaned in further. A dark haired woman of about forty, wearing a black mourning dress, stood by the staircase. A large trunk on the floor beside her blocked Heyes' view of the small half-moon table normally visible in the entryway. Standing on the first step, a little girl with chestnut ringlets peered around the woman's waist. On the woman's other side, an older girl with straight brown hair parted in the middle craned her neck to peer over the woman's shoulder.
"Do we have visitors at this hour?"
Without turning to face the woman, Silky crinkled up his face and frowned at Heyes and Kid.
"Eleanor, these gentlemen are business acquaintances of mine," answered Silky.
"Business acquaintances? At this hour?" asked Eleanor.
Her face looked puzzled. Heyes glanced to Silky. The spry older man made shooing motions with his hands. Heyes didn't know what Silky had told Eleanor, if anything, about their work with the con artist, so he replied in a formal manner.
"My apologies, Mr. O'Sullivan. We didn't know you had visitors," nodded Heyes. He held the heavy papers along with the front door key to the former financial building towards Silky. "We thought you might wish to see these tonight."
Silky took the proffered documents without even looking at them and tucked the key into his small vest pocket. Heyes felt Kid grasp his arm and tug him back from the doorway.
"We were just leaving," added Kid. The curly blond head bobbed in a gesture of respect first to the adult woman and then to the two girls. "Goodnight Ma'am, goodnight girls."
"Goodnight gentlemen," replied Eleanor.
The woman turned back to the girls. Heyes heard her speak as he backed up another step. "Felicity, Stephanie, upstairs now, to bed." Silky stepped outside on the stairway landing with Heyes and Kid. One of the children protested, "But Grampa said he would read us a story." The conman pulled the door shut behind him.
"Billy's family?" asked Heyes in a soft voice.
"Yeah," answered Silky. His chin quivered, then he spoke again. "Boys, I want you to know how much I appreciate what you're doin'. Finding the deeds ain't just for me."
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Heyes opened the door to the seventh floor suite to find George curled up on the fainting sofa, book in hand. She wore a blue robe over a white ruffled night gown. George looked up at his entrance and smiled. Heyes nodded in the direction of Harry's door with a questioning look.
"Harry went to bed early," replied George to his unspoken question. "Horace left soon after, he's got to help with set designs tomorrow for the next play."
"And you waited up?" responded Heyes with a smirk. "I'm touched."
"Hmmph," sniffed George. "I was reading, not waiting up."
"What book?" asked Heyes.
"Something called Jane Eyre," replied George. "Charley lent it to me last Tuesday when Kid and I met her at the chocolate shop."
"Charley?" Heyes voice ratcheted up in surprise. "What? Kid introduced you to that woman?"
"Seriously?" scoffed George. "What is your problem? Just because she's a dancer you don't have to call her that woman."
"My problem? My problem has nothing to do with her being a dancer. I'm more worried about the fact that Charley thinks you're a princess and Kid is your bodyguard," huffed Heyes. "Or have you forgotten that little fact?"
"No I haven't forgotten that!" huffed George. She rose to stand. Dark curls cascaded over her shoulders. "We sat and drank a chocolate soda together. Charley got to meet a princess and I got to meet a woman that makes an honest living as a professional entertainer."
"Hmmph!" spluttered Heyes. "Just what exactly did you two talk about?"
"Nothing for you to worry about!" huffed George. She turned towards her bedroom door. "We talked about politics and fashion, books and music, normal conversation. You ought to try it sometime!"
"I talk to people!" protested Heyes. "I talk all the time."
George looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.
"You might try listening some time too!"
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The Saturday morning paper carried the expected article about the explosion and fire at Frederick Houseman's Friendly Finances. The building was a total loss. Heyes reached to turn the page as he took a sip of coffee. Heyes nearly choked when he saw the next headline.
"What?" spluttered Heyes.
The headline on page two reported that Kid Curry, Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang Rob First National Bank of Medicine Bow. The article continued with a quote from a representative of Wells Fargo.
"Fifty thousand!" breathed Heyes. "I wish we had fifty thousand!"
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"Come on Jed," urged Charley with a warm glow in her dark eyes.
Charley tugged Kid forward. The tall blond man stepped out of the freight elevator to join the pretty dancer on the plush carpet of the sixth floor. Charley trailed her hand across the balcony railing, talking nonstop as they walked towards her suite. The watchful man abruptly stepped in front of her.
"Wait," hissed Kid in a low tone.
"What's wrong?" asked the redhead.
"Your door is open," answered Kid.
The tiny woman tried to peer around Kid's much larger form, however he kept sidestepping, keeping his body between her and the door.
"Did you ask room service to send up something this late?" asked Kid.
"No," answered Charley.
His strong hand reached out and gently pushed the door open further. Several large steamer trunks were visible in the parlor. One trunk was open, revealing flouncy, lace trimmed dresses. A tall, thin woman with graying hair dressed all in in black held a light blue dress in her hands. The intruder's narrow lips were pursed in a frown. Kid stopped in surprise. Charley finally got her head around him to see inside the room
"Mother!" exclaimed Charley in surprise.
The woman looked up. If anything, the pinched expression on her face tightened. She draped the dress in her hands across the trunk.
"Charlotte," greeted the older woman. Her thin lips spread across her face in a tight smile. "Don't stand out in the corridor gawking. Come inside."
Red curls bounced on Charley's shoulders as she stepped past the watchful man in the doorway. Kid stayed in the corridor. Charley stood just inside the parlor, posture stiff, with her hands on hips. Her chin jutted out a bit when she spoke again.
"What are you doing here already Mother?"
Kid blinked at the word already, but otherwise remained motionless outside the door. He couldn't remember Charley mentioning her mother was coming.
"Where else would I be?" asked the woman. "When I'm in San Francisco, we always stay at the Palace."
The woman's dark eyes flitted past Charley to Kid for a brief moment. He felt the older woman's calculating gaze rake over him before her eyes returned to settle upon her daughter.
"Together," emphasized Charley's mother. "Besides, I thought I'd bring you the good news myself. Telegrams are so impersonal."
"Good news?" asked Charley. Kid watched her swallow hard before she spoke again. "What good news?"
"Your agent has secured a new contract," gloated the woman in black. "You sign on Monday. Five thousand per week!"
Kid sucked in a deep breath. He'd seen men throwing gold coins at Charley during her performances, and knew she made a lot of money, but he'd never really thought about how much money before. Kid glanced at Charley.
"When?" asked Charley. "Where?"
"A six month tour, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, maybe even Washington," answered the woman excitedly. "The show is made to showcase your talents! You'll dance, sing and act! It's everything we've worked for!"
"We're leaving California?"
Charley's mother continued as if her daughter hadn't spoken. She made a shooing motion towards Kid.
"Now Charlotte, give the man his tip and send him on his way," ordered Charley's mother.
Kid stiffened at the woman's abrupt dismissal. He shook his curly blond head and started to speak, but Charley spoke first.
"He has a name Mother," declared Charley. "Jed's been seeing me home safely for quite some time now."
The older woman placed her hands to the side of her face in a semblance of dismay. Her eyes were dark like Charley's, but they gleamed hard and cold.
"Oh Charlotte," admonished Charley's mother. "What have I told you about forming attachments?"
"Attachment?" blurted out Kid.
The gentle blue eyed man wondered what word he would use to describe his relationship with Charley. The first night they met, there had been an attraction. Perhaps it should have ended there. They both had other commitments and neither would be staying in San Francisco long, but a chance encounter had developed over the past few weeks into something more. He didn't want to call what they had an affair, but wasn't sure if love was the right word either.
"Mother's words, not mine," Charley hastened to clarify. "Moving from show to show is the life of a dancer. I'm not supposed to get involved with men…"
"Men, hmmph," interrupted Charley's mother in a waspish tone. "They break your heart and steal your money."
"You don't know anything about me! I don't want Charley's money!" exclaimed Kid. He backed away from the door with his hands raised to either side of his chest. "Never did!"
"Pshaw! Go on," shooed the disagreeable woman. "You're no different than the rest!"
"Mother! That's enough," exclaimed Charley. "Jed, wait!"
Kid backed into the balcony railing. The graceful redhead slipped through the doorway into the corridor pulling the door shut behind her. The tiny woman hurried over to Kid and placed both hands on his chest, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry you had to hear that," whispered Charley. "I know you aren't after my money."
Kid lowered his arms to stroke her trembling form. Charley leaned her head against his muscular chest. Kid wondered what kind of woman would tell her daughter that a man only wanted her money, not her. The curly haired man found his voice.
"Why would she say that? Your mother is wrong, most men would be looking to win your heart," said Kid softly. His lips curled up in a smirk to hide the hurt her mother's words had caused, "The money would just be extra."
His jest brought a small smile to Charley's lips. She gave a small shrug and tried to explain.
"Mother doesn't trust men."
"All men?"
"My father mostly," admitted Charley. "He abandoned us when I was a little girl, ran off to dig for gold."
"Your father is a miner? I thought you said he was a thief?" asked Kid.
Charley looked up at Kid. A frustrated exhalation ruffled the red tendrils above her forehead.
"In the eyes of the law, everything he did was legal," replied Charley with a rueful smile. "But as far as I'm concerned, he's a thief."
"What do you mean?"
"We didn't hear from Father again until I was twelve, when I started making money dancing," answered Charley. "Father showed up demanding money. He wanted his share. More than his share actually. Since he is my father, it was legal for him to take all the money I earned. According to the law, he's in control."
"Laws are peculiar," whispered Kid.
For a moment, Charley didn't say anything more. Then she shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Kid could feel the tightness in her shoulder muscles.
"Father went on a drinking binge that night. He fell asleep with his arms hugging two bags of gold," continued Charley. "All the money I earned from six months' worth of blistered heels."
"Most men would hold on to their wife and child first," said Kid. Then in a wry tone he added, "Of course they might stuff the money under the bed for safe keeping."
A chuckle burbled up from the tiny woman. She shook her head.
"Not Father. Mother and I packed up and left town that night," added Charley. "Father was the first man Mother ever paid to stay away."
The strong man brought his hand up and traced the curve of her face, wiping away the moisture from beneath her dark eyes with his thumb. Charley's eyelashes fluttered, but tears still glistened in her eyes.
"Things are better now that I'm over twenty-five, but the law still favors husbands and fathers over wives and daughters," whispered Charley. "Mother worries more about contracts and fortune hunters now than Father."
Charley leaned in closer to Kid, pressing against his body. Her face lit up with a hopeful smile.
"Come with me Jed," urged Charley.
"What?"
"Come to Boston."
Kid glanced at the door to her suite. He had a pretty good idea what her mother would say to that idea. As if she was reading his mind, Charley reached up and placed her hand against the side of his face, drawing his gaze back to her.
"We could have more time together," coaxed Charley. "You could be anyone in Boston. We could both have a fresh start, really get to know one another."
The tall man took a deep breath. Kid pulled back. There was something he had to do first.
"Charley, you're the best thing about San Francisco, but I can't leave my partner," replied Kid. "We have a job to finish. Would you want to stay here a while longer?"
Charley shook her head, red curls tumbling over her shoulders. She pursed her lips in disappointment.
"No, I can't let Mother down now. I'm all she's got," sighed Charley. "I have to go to Boston to start this new job. It's a dream come true, everything Mother and I have worked for all these years."
Soft fingers caressed the side of Kid's face, drawing him closer to a tiny heart shaped face and rosy lips.
"Jedidiah Curry, I will always…," whispered Charley.
"What? What did you call me?" interrupted Kid, pulling back in surprise.
Charley's smile broadened. A mischievous gleam lit up her eyes.
"Do you know how often you've talked about Wyoming over the past six weeks?" asked Charley. "I heard you call your partner Heyes once when you were getting out of the freight elevator and he called you Kid. I can put the pieces together. I'm so glad you decided to go straight."
Kid's mouth dropped open in a wordless protest.
"Jed, don't worry. Your secret will always be safe with me," breathed Charley in a soft voice. She ran her fingers through his curls and pulled his face down to meet hers. "Now kiss me goodbye."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Kid?"
Heyes looked up from the solitaire game spread out across the table before him as his partner opened the door. The seventh floor suite was quiet. Horace had left earlier to return to the theater for his evening performance. George had gone to bed, and Harry hadn't been seen since supper.
"Heyes," acknowledged the blond shootist as he stepped inside the room.
"What are you doin' here?" asked Heyes.
Kid's eyebrows went up. He glanced around the parlor, eyes lingering on the bedroom door closest to the fainting sofa.
"You didn't rent out my room," asked Kid, "did you?"
A dimpled smile spread across Heyes' face.
"No," chuckled Heyes. "Of course not."
The dark haired man didn't ask, but Kid answered the unspoken question.
"Charley's mother arrived," Kid explained. "They'll be leaving San Francisco for Boston soon."
His partner's blue eyes looked away, and Heyes suddenly found himself worried that Kid might have fallen for the pretty dancer harder than he would admit.
"Quite frankly I'm surprised at you seeing a redhead," prodded Heyes. "I woulda thought that Charley might remind you of one of your sisters."
Kid snorted.
"Charley ain't nothin' like my sisters," asserted Kid. Then his lips turned up in a smile. "But George has always reminded me of Maeve."
For a moment, Heyes could picture Kid's oldest sister, laughing as she ordered her cousin and little brother inside for dinner. "And you will wash your hands first!"
"Bossy!" grinned Heyes. Then as Kid moved towards his bedroom door, Heyes prodded once more. "What about Clem? Does she remind you of Bridget?"
"No," replied Kid. "Clem is more like you."
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A/N2 – fictional character Charley was loosely based on the career of real person Lotta Crabtree, talented dancer, singer, and actress who left California for Boston, and used some of her earnings to support charities such as the Massachusetts Society for Aiding Discharged Prisoners.