Once Governor Hamilton's flight was discovered, his successor, Governor Thomas Jackson, was quickly appointed to take over in his place. He was in a difficult position. There was no money left and the title of governor had become a byword for treachery and criminal behaviour.
The former governor had abandoned his wife and the children that had been so recently snatched from death, saved by the very man to whom he had refused the amnesty he had promised. Hamilton's wife and children had been forced to return, penniless and disgraced, to her father's house.
A mound of letters arrived daily, filled with outpourings of disgust at the treatment of a man who, while admittedly a criminal, had nevertheless been an honorable man; a man who had been abiding by the law for over two years and, in their opinion, had done nothing to warrant a twenty year prison sentence.
This newspaper fellow seemed to be finding people all over the country to attest to Heyes' good nature and eagerness to help uphold the law. A number of criminals, it seemed, had even been brought in by the two outlaws, and numerous people had been helped by them.
Even without that, Governor Jackson would have felt that Hannibal Heyes had been unfairly treated. Jackson was a man who firmly believed that a man's word was his bond. He hated to think that the word of the Governor of Wyoming had been brought into disrepute by a low blaggard like Charles Hamilton. Hamilton had promised them amnesty if they could prove they could stay out of trouble for one year. They had done it for twice that, even going out of their way to make amends and right wrongs where they could, but Hamilton had not kept his word.
Jackson arranged a series of meetings with the heads of the railroads and banks that had been the most vociferous voices against Heyes. He was surprised to find they were in agreement with him. They, too, had been feeling the effects of the backlash of public opinion, as sympathy for Hannibal Heyes continued to rise.
Rather than losing steam, the newspaper seemed to be constantly finding new and complimentary stories about Heyes and Curry, until, as one railroad baron remarked irritably, he'd started to think the public would only be satisfied with their sainthood.
With everyone in agreement, Governor Jackson decided the only thing left was to go and see the attorney general, and perhaps even the President himself.
The attorney general, like everyone else, had seen the tide of public opinion turn towards Hannibal Heyes, and readily agreed to recommend a Presidential pardon. The president, needing public goodwill for a series of reforms he had planned, agreed.
Three months after being appointed governor, Thomas Jackson travelled back to Wyoming with a presidential pardon in his pocket for Hannibal Heyes.
There was only one condition attached to the pardon - Jackson had to wait until he received a telegraph from Washington DC giving authorization to release it. The president planned to announce it at the same time that he would announce a controversial piece of legislative reform. Hopefully, the press would ignore the rather complicated reform bill in favour of the far more popular Hannibal Heyes story.
Hannibal Heyes' recovery had been slow.
At first, the laudanum kept him in a sleepy fog, but as he began to recover he started to refuse the hated drug. After that, the pain had been bad enough to take his mind off everything else.
He had burns over most of his body. Although most of them weren't serious, the burns on his back and leg were extensive and had been bad enough to permanently damage the muscles.
When he was finally clear enough to understand the doctor for more than a few minutes at a time, Doctor MacTavish pulled a chair next to his bedside. He gave a polite greeting to the warden's wife, Sally, who tried to be beside Heyes as often as she could, determined to do her best to repay the debt she owed him for the lives of her children. She had been reading to him and she paused as they both turned to look at the grim-faced doctor.
"Heyes, I want to talk to you about your injuries. Would you like Mrs. Best to leave while we discuss them?"
Heyes shook his head. He could see from the doctor's expression that this wasn't going to be good news and he felt he wanted someone else there, someone who felt like a friend. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and tried not to think how much he would give to just have the Kid by his side. Under the guise of pushing himself up, he reached under his pillow and palmed his cousin's letter, which he gripped like a talisman. He knew it was foolish, but it was at least a connection to the Kid, however remote.
"Very well then. While most of the burns on your body are healing nicely, the damage to your back and your leg was severe. During the healing process, those injured muscles contract." Seeing Heyes frown, he clarified, "They pull together. The damage is permanent and it means there will always be some pain in those areas, so movement will be uncomfortable. Coupled with that, the break in your leg hasn't healed correctly. We can't know yet to what extent this will affect you, but you can expect some problems with mobility. We'll just have to wait and see how badly you'll be affected."
Heyes saw the doctor's lips compress in disapproval as Sally reached out and squeezed Heyes' hand. Although he appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture, Heyes felt uncomfortable at being touched that way. No-one had shown him any affection in almost three years and it made him uneasy. He gently pulled his hand away, but at the same time his other hand tightened around the Kid's letter, as if it could shield him from the rest of the world.
Oddly, the news of his injuries didn't bother Heyes as much as it should have. Mobility didn't seem that much of a concern any more. He lived in prison cell and spent his days sitting in an office working on the prison accounts. He would live that way until he died or somebody finally killed him outright. What did it matter if he couldn't walk? He wasn't going anywhere. And as for the pain… well, he was getting used to it.
He could see that the doctor was watching him to see if he understood. Heyes nodded and the doctor walked away, satisfied. Sally looked at him curiously.
"Are you alright, Mr. Heyes? Would you like to talk about it?"
Heyes shook his head.
"But surely… news like that! You can talk to me, Mr. Heyes, I don't mind."
Again, he shook his head. She couldn't understand it; he'd just received some terrible news. Since she felt responsible, she felt she owed it to him to give him whatever comfort he needed.
Heyes saw her thoughts reflected on her face and tried to explain.
"Doesn't matter," he told her. He was so used to silence he had to search for the words he needed. "Not here."
Her heart twisted as she realized what he was trying to say. He had a sentence of twenty years, he would be there for the rest of his life. It didn't really matter if he couldn't walk very well since there was nowhere to walk to.
He didn't remember the governor's wife very clearly. He had been out of things for most of the time that she was there and she had needed to return home with her children before he was fully aware of anything. But as he lay slowly recovering, the tedium of his days would have begun to wear on him if it hadn't been for Sally.
Initially, she tried to talk to him, but found his habit of silence was so firmly instilled that conversation was near to impossible (unless, she thought, she chattered on endlessly only expecting a word or two in response, and she got enough of that sort of conversation from her husband!). She remembered how well he had responded to hearing her read to him and soon discovered their shared enjoyment of books. Not that he ever said much to her, but she now felt she knew him well enough to read in his face which books he was enjoying, and which he merely tolerated or even disliked.
She quickly realized that he disliked her beloved Jane Austen novels and the works of Charlotte Bronte, although they both enjoyed 'Wuthering Heights', a book she had never even mentioned to her husband, in fear that he would think it 'unsuitable for a lady'. After that, she read Oliver Twist and he seemed to enjoy it - although she fancied that he preferred to hear about the Artful Dodger rather than the protagonist - and she was planning to follow that with more Charles Dickens, until she read in a newspaper that he had helped solve a crime with information he'd found in Mark Twain's 'Life on the Mississippi'. She quickly obtained copies of 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer' and 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn' and was surprised to find that she enjoyed them every bit as much as he did.
She knew that her husband disapproved of her reading these frivolous novels, but she argued that reading to the prisoner was her godly duty and if she was to do it well, then she was going to read something that they both enjoyed. Both she and Mr. Heyes - she insisted on calling him 'Mr.', she felt he had earned that much at least - were familiar enough with their Bibles (her husband had told her that he had frequently seen Heyes reading his Bible) that their souls could stand a diversion for a little while. He would, after all, have another seventeen years to continue reading the good book.
The burns on his back seemed to take a long time to heal. They would help him to a sitting position to eat and drink, supporting him while he did so, to avoid putting pressure on the damaged skin. Afterwards, they would lay him back on his stomach. He couldn't even lay on his side because of his broken leg. He grew to hate lying like that.
It was wonderful when it was determined that his back was sufficiently healed to allow him to lie normally again, but by then he was facing other problems. After the accident, he had obviously lost even more weight, and now he was starting to feel the effects.
He was dangerously weak. He had to be helped to sit, as he no longer had sufficient strength for him to push himself up and he quickly became tired. He also needed help to eat, his hands shook too much to hold the bowl. He hated feeling so incapable and tried to eat as much as he could to regain his strength.
In addition to everything else, his body was frequently racked by a cough that he couldn't seem to get rid of. The doctor said that the smoke inhalation had damaged his lungs and he now found it more comfortable to sleep propped up against a pillow to ease his coughing.
He lost count of the weeks that he was confined to his bed. Even though he hadn't cared much when he'd been told that he might have problems walking, he felt nervous when the time came to try.
The doctor's assistants, trustees named George and Harry, stood next to him and helped him up from the bed. He knew it was foolish, but he felt anxious about their proximity. When they reached over to help him up, he felt himself shudder at their contact.
As they moved to help him to stand, he gasped in sudden pain and a wave of vertigo washed over him.
They waited until he was ready and then started to move again.
His leg had stiffened after weeks of inactivity. As the trustees supported him, he managed to pull it forward and tried to put his weight on it. There was a sudden burst of pain and the next thing he knew, he was lying on his bed while the doctor held smelling salts to his nose.
"What happened?"
"It seems you have a little way to go before you can try to put any weight on that leg. The break must have been worse than we thought."
He had to take things more slowly after that. Over the next few weeks, they continued to walk him around the hospital wing until he began to feel more comfortable using the leg. Even then, the slightest pressure on it caused him to wince with pain.
The doctor was right, he was never going to be able to walk without help. He began to practice getting about with crutches at first, and then tried with just one. He was soon able to move around by himself and after another three weeks - more than three months after the accident - he was released to return to his cell, supported by a sturdy cane.
He was glad to return. He would miss the visits from Sally and he would desperately miss the books she had brought with her, but returning to the cell felt like a return to normal life.
He felt exposed in the hospital. He was fortunate that very few prisoners had been there during his stay, because he felt he was too vulnerable to attack while he was there. He had become used to Doctor Mactavish and Sally, but George and Harry made him nervous; every time a new patient was admitted, he had lain awake, worrying about what they might do.
His cell felt safe, like the only safe port in a storm. He was the only one there and the door would be locked at night. He could return to his old routine again and he found it a comfort. He could stay secure in his cell, leaving only when he was escorted to his office to work. He had regained his strength and he had proved before that he didn't need to leave his cell for breakfast and dinner. Once again, he could survive quite happily on just his lunch. He lay on his bunk and breathed a sigh of relief.
He could be alone again.
