"Morning, Heyes, Charlie!" Jim cheerfully called down from the driver's seat of a wagon pulling up in front of the Heyes' apartment.
Charlie and the former outlaw waved. "Good morning!" Charlie cried, taking hold of the near horse's bridle.
"Morning! And thanks for coming with the wagon, brother!" Heyes called from the sidewalk where he and his former advisor stood by a pile of luggage. "I'm mighty glad to see you. I was worrying over finding cabs in this neighborhood. One wagon will do just fine, if you can help us with the trunks."
"No p-problem." Jim jumped down from the wagon. "Thanks for taking the horses, Professor. Heyes, did you always handle all the stuff like t-transportation for the D-Devil's Hole gang?"
Heyes nodded. "Yeah, right from when I joined up, even before I got to be leader. That's why they wanted me. Logistics was my thing. Well, that and safe opening. And fast talking." He winked at his friends, who laughed at him.
The three of them soon had the rented wagon loaded. "Come on, honey!" Heyes called to his wife, who was still in the apartment. "We're ready to roll." The Westerner climbed down from the wagon a bit awkwardly, favoring the hip where his partner had shot him by accident. But he trotted briskly up the front steps of the brownstone.
Beth came out carrying her purse and a bulging canvas bag.
"What have you got in there?" Heyes asked as he protectively took the bag and helped his pregnant wife down the steps. She didn't really need help, but she was happy to let her husband fuss over her if it made him feel better. She loved having him at her side.
"Oh, I brought things for making the trip more pleasant," said Beth. "A book, some maps, some apples, a notebook, little pillows."
"You're so thoughtful!" Said Heyes with a smile. "You'd have made a great logistics guy, or gal, for any gang."
"Thanks, I guess," said his wife. As they reached the sidewalk she looked back at the apartment sadly. "We've had some good times here, haven't we?"
"A few. And bad times, thanks to me," sighed the former outlaw. "But we'll have more good times someplace else. West of here." He took his wife's hand.
"Yes," Mrs. Heyes agreed, "I know we will." She squeezed Heyes' hand affectionately.
Heyes, hearing the lack of conviction in his wife's voice, said, "I know it isn't easy for you to leave New York, where you have so any friends, or the East, where your family is. And all the libraries, the museums, the concerts. But we really are going to be happy out West. Both of us. Or, I should say, all of us." He looked at where their child was growing.
"I know we will be happy. Thanks to you." Beth kissed her husband. "Alright. I'm ready." They turned back toward the wagon. "Good morning, Jim."
Jim smiled and returned the greeting.
Heyes said, "Come on, let me help you into the wagon." For this, Beth did need help. It was a long way up to the wagon seat for a short-legged woman. Heyes took her in his arms and swung her up. Charlie helped take Beth onto the wagon seat while Jim held the reins and kept the team of horses steady. Heyes climbed into the back of the wagon to ride with the luggage. Three people were a tight fit on the seat.
"Thank you, honey, Charlie." She smiled at her husband and their friends. "And thank you for driving one more load, Jim."
Jim smiled at his old friend. "My p-pleasure." He shook the reins to start the horses. "It's gonna be lonely around here without you two. I'm glad you'll be back, Charlie."
It was too loud a trip through the streets crowded with horse-drawn vehicles for the four of them to talk much on the way, but their arrival at the station occasioned repeated hugs and good-byes. "We got to go, soon," said Heyes at last. "And I know you need to take the rig back. Thanks so much for everything. You're my longest time friend here, except for the doc himself."
Jim wipe his eyes with his fingers and said, "My p-pleasure, always, Joshua, B-Beth. Watch out for them, Charlie. I'll get out to see you folks one day."
"Jim, you probably already know, but by the time you come, there will be three of us Heyeses," said Beth with a teary smile.
"That's great!" Jim lagged with joy and slapped Heyes' shoulder. "Congratulations you two! Good work, brother! Stay well and t-take care, all of you! Good luck! See you, Charlie! Say "hi" to Cat and the Kid for me!" Jim cried after his friends as he drove off in one direction and the west-bound group followed the redcaps bearing their luggage in the opposite direction.
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At his late breakfast the morning after he had shot the Green River Kid, Sheriff Curry was interrupted. Geoff Strauss, the man who had witnessed the shooting, came up to the table where Curry was eating with His wife. "Say, Sheriff, when I was swearing out that statement for you, you forgot to sign anything for me."
Curry looked quizzically at the stranger. "What do you need me to sign? I thought we did all the paperwork last night."
"Oh, I don't need it, but I'd like it. Just your autograph. I got my book here." Strauss held out a horizontal album with a spray of flowers embossed in gold on the front cover.
Cat giggled. "I thought only little girls collected autographs."
Strauss grinned. "Oh no. Back east, lots of folks of all ages collect autographs. I saw somebody in print call it a national obsession. I've got some good ones – see - Edwin Booth, Mathew Brady, Mark Twain. But your husband's would be the best, Mrs. Curry."
Jed Curry laughed. "That's what you say to everybody, I guess. You got a pen?"
Strauss produced an early model fountain pen and Kid Curry obliged. He even added "Kid" after his first name, which he had never done in his life before.
"Gosh, thanks, Kid," said Strauss enthusiastically. "Could you date it?"
Curry gladly did as he was asked and added "Louisville, Co." and a little note of thanks. "I do appreciate you coming forward with that statement. It was a big help, to get things all straight and official."
"Glad to help," said Strauss. "Well, I got to go catch the train. Take care of yourself, Sheriff, Mrs. Curry."
"I'll do my best," Curry replied, waving as the witness went on his way. "Sometimes," he said to his wife, "it is mighty nice to be on the side of the law. In the old days, nobody would back me up when I shot a man, even when I didn't have a choice. Or nobody but Heyes."
After breakfast, Curry limped down toward his office glumly. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with the young gunman he had shot.
The sheriff hoisted himself onto the boardwalk in front of the doctor's office, limped loudly across the boards, and knocked at the door. He was startled to have the door opened by a slender young man he hadn't met before. Seeing Curry's tin star-shaped badge, the young man said, "Good morning, sheriff. What can I do for you?"
Curry said, "Good morning. I come to check on Cody Laurence, the gunman I shot yesterday. Are you the new guy the doc said was coming to work with him?" Curry stepped in the door to Dr. Grauer's little waiting room.
"Yes. I'm Dr. Michael Steadman. I just got in on the train this morning from California."
Curry put out his hand with a smile. "Welcome to town, Doctor Steadman! I'm Jed Curry. I'm glad to know the doc's got somebody to help out. This town is growing and it's getting to be a lot for one guy to manage all the medical stuff."
The young doctor accepted the handshake gladly and returned it firmly. "Yes, that what he told me. I'm grateful to get to learn from someone with so much wisdom and experience. I only just finished my first residency out of med school."
"Nonsense!" Exclaimed Doctor Grauer as he came out of his office wiping his hands with a white rag. "I'll be the one learning from this young buck with all the new procedures and medicines he knows about. Did you come to check on Laurence, Kid?"
The young doctor looked at the sheriff curiously when he heard what the doctor had called him.
Curry nodded. "Yeah, I hope that finger's doing alright, and the rest of him."
Steadman was still staring hard at the sheriff. "Don't tell me you're really . . ."
Doc Grauer interrupted his new colleague. "Yeah, he's Kid Curry, the former outlaw. How else do think he could get off a shot that fast and accurate? That man handcuffed in our back room is a famous fast draw artist. He never got near Curry, from what they tell me. And now he never will. Don't tell me you're worried for the welfare of that punk criminal, Jed. You just want to lock him in a cell as fast as you can."
Steadman looked on in stunned awe. Clearly, he had heard a good deal about Curry.
"I can't help thinkin' how I would have gotten on without my trigger finger," said the sheriff thoughtfully, shaking his head. "Not good. Not even gone straight. Rough on any man. But you're right, Doc. I won't rest easy until we get that boy behind bars."
The doctor automatically came to the defense of his patient. "He's not a threat to escape, Jed. He's got an infection. He's feverish. And very melancholy, poor fellow."
"That poor fellow has robbed folks and shot men," said Jed. "It ain't him I'm worried over so much. It's the bad crowd he runs with. There's murderers in that bunch. If they want to spring him, it's a ton easier to defend the jail than your place. And I don't want nobody getting hurt."
"You have a deputy here watching Laurence, can't he do the job?" Asked Dr. Doctor Steadman.
"Not if a whole crowd of outlaws rides in here. Might be the best we can do is to let out how he's hurt. If they find out he can't shoot no more, they'll probably forget him," the sheriff speculated.
"That's cold," remarked Steadman, repulsed by the idea.
"It's a cold business," stated Curry flatly. "A professional gunman with no trigger finger, or one that don't work, ain't much use to a gang. Well, I'd better see him."
"Don't keep him long," said Doctor Grauer as he let Jed into his office and then into the sick room beyond it. "He needs his rest. It's not a bad infection, but he's still weak and in pain."
Curry found the wounded gunman lying, shifting restlessly in a small bed. It was clearly hard for him to get comfortable while his left hand was handcuffed to the bed frame and his right hand was so badly hurt.
'Hello, boss," said Billy Healy, getting to his feet from where he had been sitting, reading a magazine. He stifled a yawn.
"You better pray it stays dull, Billy," said Curry. "He's got a bunch of friends could make things real hot around here."
"Yes, sir," said Billy. "He's no trouble, poor guy."
Curry turned to the prisoner. "How are you, Laurence?"
The wounded young man averted his face and said nothing.
"I said how are you feeling, Laurence?" Repeated the sheriff.
The fretful prisoner still ignored the man who had maimed him.
"Hey, I'm speaking to you," said Curry firmly, though not angrily. "I know you ain't asleep."
There was another pause. Curry stood patiently.
Suddenly the dark-haired criminal turned in bed to face the lawman. "How the hell do you think I am? I ain't no use to nobody like this. No gang is gonna spring me and you know it. I wish you'd a killed me outright! Why'd you have to do this!?" He waved the wounded, heavily bandaged hand, wincing in pain. "Why?"
"Why'd you have to rob and shoot people?" asked Curry in a dull, strained voice.
"The same reason you did," hissed the wounded man "to eat!"
"There's better ways to make a living. Now we both know it." The lawman didn't sound very convinced of his own words.
"When I'm hurt like this? I can't do nothing, straight or crooked, not without the part of me you half shot off."
"If you're lucky, it'll get better. If not, you can learn to write with your left hand and do other stuff with it," said Curry.
"You even gonna say you're sorry?" Asked the wounded man.
"No."
Curry turned and left the room. The doctor followed him and shut the door behind them. When he got into the doctor's office the sheriff paused, with his eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths.
"Are you sorry?" Asked Doctor Grauer.
"No," Curry repeated, opening his eyes.
"That," said his old friend softly, "is a lie. But it's a necessary one." He patted Jed on the shoulder.
They went into the outer office.
"When will he be up to going to Wyoming for his trial?" Curry asked.
"I don't know. If the infection stays this mild, it should clear in a few days. If it gets worse, it will be longer." Doctor Grauer sounded seriously concerned.
"Do you think he'll keep the finger?" Asked the sheriff.
The old doctor sighed. "I don't know that either. We'll know in a few days, maybe. Even if he does keep it, it'll be clumsy at best. Some of the nerve connections are in place, but not enough to work all the muscles. He'll never be a fast draw gunman again."
"Thanks, Doc. Sorry to saddle you with the guy. Let me know how he's doing. Good to meet you, Doctor Steadman." Curry tipped his hat and walked toward the door.
Doctor Grauer said to his friend, "Jed, come for an exam in the next couple of days. We should be able to get that cast off and start you with a cane very soon."
"What? Oh. Yeah. Thanks. See you, Doc. Docs, I mean." Curry walked out the front door.
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When Cat went to take her husband his lunch, she asked, "Honey, when are you going to change?" She set down a tray of sandwiches and lemonade on the desk.
"Change?" Asked Curry absently, putting down the sandwich he had been about to bite into.
Mrs. Curry patiently explained to her husband. "To go over to the bank and ask for the loan to buy the hotel. You don't want to go in your work clothes. You want to look like a businessman, not a sheriff."
Jed looked up at Cat. "I know I said I'd go to the bank here today, love. But I can't do it since we stopped that robbery yesterday. That banker, Cobb, would be sure I was putting pressure on him. He might feel like he had to give me the loan, or he might kick up and complain about me to the authorities. He could say I was using my legal influence to make him give me the loan. I think I got to go elsewhere or at least wait a bit."
Cat said, "Yes, I can see that. You could go to Boulder or Denver."
"But I can't do that while we're guarding the guy I shot. A gang could show up here to spring him any time. I can't ride off and leave the deputies in charge now. And besides, Heyes and me robbed the biggest bank in Denver. No big Colorado bank is gonna think well of Kid Curry."
"But Jed, we've only got until Friday to pay Ross for the hotel," said Cat anxiously.
Jed stared at his food uneasily. "I know. But we have the rest of this week. We got to think on what to do. Maybe I can get a message through to Heyes on the train and see what he says. There's no time to wait till they get here."
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The train out of New York was crowded. People boarding hurried around in search of good seats. While Charlie coped with redcaps to tote the luggage, Heyes moved quickly to get a place with three empty seats together. He seated himself by a window with a spot for Beth at his right and Charlie Homer in a seat facing them.
"Thank you!" Said Beth as she and Charlie found the spots Heyes had saved for them. "I was afraid we might have to split up."
"Yeah, though we could always ask someone to move for a pair of newlyweds," commented Charlie. He said nothing about his own need to stay nearby so he could guard Heyes from the temptation of the alcohol sold illicitly on trains.
As the train moved west through a long tunnel, they could see nothing but black out the windows.
"I remember my first time coming into New York through that awful tunnel," said the retired outlaw. "I didn't know what to think when it was dark for so long."
"And you couldn't exactly have asked Doctor Leutze about it," said Beth. "Poor baby." She took her husband's hand.
"I'm fine now, sweetie," Heyes put his arm around Beth. But they all felt better when the train emerged into the summer sunlight.
"You want to play some chess, Joshua?" Asked Professor Homer, careful to use a name that would keep his notorious friend's identity private. The seats around them were full of men and families, many talking together as their journeys began.
"No thanks," said Heyes, "I've got some ideas I want to get down while they're fresh in my mind. Maybe later." He pulled out his journal and a pencil.
"I'll play you," said Beth. "I want to get back into practice."
They set got out the travel board. The tiny ivory pieces were held in place by pins on their bases that stuck in the hole in each square. Soon Beth and Charlie were deep into a game and a long conversation while Heyes alternated between writing in his journal and looking out the window as the train crossed the hilly farm country of New Jersey and Pennsylvania. He looked back from his long consideration of the countryside to find his wife gazing at him.
"When do you think we'll see this part of the country again?" Asked the westerner.
Beth answered without hesitation. "I don't know. We'll find out when it happens. I guess that's why it's an adventure we are starting. We don't know a lot of what's next, but like you and the Kid always did, we're still going on."
"Together." Heyes took his wife's hand and kissed it. "The three of us."
They spent a long, quiet moment looking into each other's eyes.
"Hey, you love birds, anybody want another game of chess?" Asked Charlie.
"In a little while," said Heyes. "I'm thirsty. And I need to stretch my legs."
"Thirsty?" Asked the professor, asking more than a stranger would have realized. "Me, too, as a matter of fact. And stiff from sitting."
The two men got up and balanced expertly as they went down the aisle as the train lurched and shuddered. Heyes paused as the train swayed and creaked into a long turn. Charlie came up close behind him. "You don't have to follow me and watch me every minute like some damn detective," the former thief hissed under his breath.
"Oh don't I?" Whispered Charlie.
It wasn't but a moment later that Homer's gaze went to a slimy-looking man in a black suit who took a bottle of cheap whiskey out from under a blanket. "Thirsty, gentlemen?"
"No thanks," growled Charlie and pushed against his former advisee's back to indicate he wanted to go on his way and Heyes should, as well.
There was a noticeable pause. Heyes swallowed hard before he shook his head and the two continued walking down the aisle. At the end of a train car there was large container of water that had a tap on the side. Each man filled a white paper cup a couple of times and had a drink of tepid water. They walked a ways farther down the train to stretch their legs, smiling at strangers as they passed. Then they tuned and made their way back towards their seats.
Before they got back to Beth, Heyes paused and whispered behind his former advisor, "Thanks, Charlie. Sorry to get testy."
"No problem, Joshua," muttered the professor. "I understand the feeling. Excuse me." Charlie went to use the tiny chamber that held the toilet.
Heyes went back to his seat, but found a hulking stranger standing in front of it.
"No, you may not sit next to me. My husband is sitting there," Beth was saying in a very annoyed voice to the broad-shouldered, scruffy, bearded man standing in front of her.
"I don't see nobody there, and there ain't no other seats," said the obnoxious man in a coarse New York accent as he moved to sit down in Heyes' seat.
"My wife told you not to sit there. And now I'm telling you the same thing," growled the former thief softly. "Go on your way."
The stranger turned. "Hah, what a city boy in glasses! You ain't big enough to tell me nothing."
People in surrounding seats were starting to watch this face off, wondering if they might want to move away.
Heyes' eyes burned with anger. "I am telling you to leave my wife alone and let me have my seat," he demanded more loudly, but calmly, enunciating his words with exaggerated care. "Now."
"You gonna' make me?" Sneered the man, standing up and facing the much smaller Heyes. Beth looked anxious, but said nothing. This was for her husband to handle in his own way.
Heyes paused, thinking back on all the times he had been challenged in the past, in the West. But then, he had generally had his partner at his side, or nearby. Now, the Kid was more than 1,000 miles away. And previously, Heyes had been challenged without a wife there to be defended – and to be impressed or disappointed.
Heyes turned to his other old reliable weapons - the famous silver tongue and the old Heyes charm. He smiled appealingly at the aggressive stranger. "Ah, come on, man. Be polite to a lady. Let me sit with my wife."
The Ill-shaven interloper scratched his chin. "Nope, I don't think I will. I don't want to stand all that way or sit on the dang floor."
"You can have my seat," volunteered Charlie mildly, taking Heyes' and Beth's brief cases out of his seat. He seemed unbothered, though nobody in the party wanted the rude stranger to sit with them for hours or even days to come.
"Nah, I ain't gonna take an old man's seat. This guy in glasses can stand. I want to sit," said the stranger to Charlie. He moved again toward Heyes' seat at Beth's side.
"Why don't we flip a coin for the seat?" Asked the former con man brightly, pulling a quarter out of his pocket. He could feel Beth watching him.
The stranger shook his head. "Nah, I might lose. I'm just gonna flatten you, then I'll get your seat without all this jawin'." He began to raise his fist.
Heyes now had lost patience. He reached for the small pistol hidden in his jacket picket. But a teenaged boy in a dark uniform came along, calling out in his high tenor, "Telegram! Telegram for Mr. Heyes! Telegram for H. Joshua Heyes!"
The former outlaw put out his hand. "Here, boy. That's for me. Thanks." He flipped the youngster a dime tip and took the slip of paper from him. He added softly, "It's not from Jed Curry, is it?"
The boy didn't catch the hint when he caught the dime. He just shook his head. Heyes wondered if the man harassing him would catch on. Subtle, he was not.
There was a pause. Had the hint gotten across? Heyes felt the bully studying him. The former outlaw looked at the man with one eyebrow arched in question.
"You ain't really that bad guy they put in jail and let out?" The bully was suddenly sounding very uncomfortable. He stared at the man in glasses whom he had almost struck.
Heyes stuffed the message into his pocket. "That's not exactly how I would put it, but yes," said Heyes.
"You got a gun in your pocket there?" the bully asked uneasily.
"Uh huh, I do." Heyes admitted casually.
The bully swallowed hard. "Sorry, Mr. Heyes, Mrs. Heyes." He tipped his hat and hurried down the aisle.
Heyes sat down in relief, looking around surreptitiously to see if anyone else had noticed this odd exchange and realized who the man receiving the telegram was. But no one seemed to be staring.
"So that was the silver tongue in action?" Asked Beth with a mocking lilt to her voice.
"Not exactly," said Heyes with a self-depreciating snort. "It's gone for good, as I've told you before. That was just the best I can do, now."
"Aw, honey, whatever it was, it worked," Mrs. Heyes said apologetically. She liked to tease her husband, but not to embarrass or hurt him. "I'm just glad to have you back next to me."
Heyes patted his wife's hand. "Luck. It used to come in handy pretty regularly when the Kid and I were in tough situations."
Charlie Homer quietly took the seat opposite Heyes. He sarcastically griped under his breath, "Well, I'm gone just a couples of minutes and it seems like you already made trouble. That's fast, even for you. Why didn't you just call a conductor to help, instead of threatening to shoot the guy?"
"I wasn't really gonna shoot him," muttered Heyes. His brown eyes flashed. "Just make him think I might."
"Well I should hope!" Exclaimed Beth, "after all you've been through to get where you are. That could have all been over, for nothing."
"And as for calling a conductor, like the little wimp he thought I was, I guess appealing to authority of any kind was never my style. For most of my life, it hasn't been an option."
"I know, my sweet thief," murmured Beth with a shine in her eyes and a secret smile.
Heyes smiled back. "As it was, that creep got out of here fast enough when he found out who I was," he couldn't help mentioning with a satisfied chuckle.
"What's the telegram say?" asked Beth.
"I don't know. Give me a minute to read it," said Heyes, reaching into his jacket pocket. He found the wrinkled slip of paper, straightened it out, and studied it. A fleeting, satisfied smile crossed his face. He stood up and began to walk quickly down the train car aisle.
"Joshua?" Asked Beth, but got no answer.
"Wait up, you!" Cried Charlie and hurried after him.
"Let me alone for a minute, would you?" Heyes turned and grumbled softly at his mentor.
"No. I'm coming. And you know why." He followed Heyes into the next train car.
The former outlaw hissed furiously, "I got to pee. I can do that by myself since I was two. If I'm not back in five minutes, you can come find me."
Professor Homer murmured softly but with an edge of threat, "You just proved you can almost murder a guy in two minutes for taking your seat. What might you do on your own in five minutes? With you, the progression of trouble versus time is more geometrical than arithmetic. And besides, you just walked past the closest toilet."
"Charlie, get lost!" Fumed his former student.
"Not when you talk like that. What did that telegram say, anyhow?" Asked Homer, now intensely curious.
"None of your business. Or not here where everyone can hear." The former outlaw looked around, but no one was paying them much mind.
"Heyes!" Charlie was angry, too.
The former student gave in with a sigh. "Alright, just promise you won't tell Beth. I want to tell her myself. In private."
"You will tell her whatever it is?" Charlie scolded.
Heyes nodded. "Yeah, of course. It's a job offer."
"Teaching?" A rush of hope colored the professor's voice.
"No." But the new graduate didn't seen unhappy.
"Does it have anything to do with math?" Asked Professor Homer eagerly.
"Yeah." Heyes smiled briefly. "Not full time – I'll still spend most of my time, um, doing what Jed and I worked out. I'll give you the details later. In private." He spoke softly, but was careful not to say too much in public. Giving away where he would be and what he would be doing was the last thing he wanted to do in a train car where someone just might know who he was. There was no guarantee that the bully would keep a secret of his recent encounter with a famous former criminal.
Charlie waved for his former student to go on his way. "Go on with you. Just be back right quick."
The aspiring professor found the Western Union boy farther along the train and wrote a brief message on his pad to be transmitted at the next station stop. Then Heyes hurried back to his seat. He leaned back. "How about that game of chess, Charlie?"
"Aren't you going to tell me what that telegram said, Joshua?" Asked Beth as her husband and his mentor set up the little travel board.
"Not here where everybody can hear." Heyes advanced a black pawn, trying to keep his voice casual so strangers wouldn't listen. "Don't worry - it's good news."
"Honey!" It tormented Mrs. Heyes not to know the latest news about her husband. They had waited so long and so anxiously for good news.
"Later! Please, Beth."
Mrs. Heyes glared at her husband. She didn't like having him keep secrets from her. She whispered, "You could write it to me."
"Alright," Heyes agreed, but reluctantly. "Just don't forget and tell the world."
"You think I'll be mad about something?" Speculated Mrs. Heyes.
Rather than uselessly arguing with the woman he loved, Heyes sighed and started writing in his journal in his flowing handwriting. "You remember Gordon Cable?" He carefully made sure to keep the journal low in front of him where no one but he and Beth could see it
Beth took the pencil and replied on the next line below what he husband had written. "Yes. He's a mine owner in Louisville. He was mentioned during your trial. He introduced you to Dr. L."
"Coal mine manager." Heyes wrote in his turn. "He wants me to do some consulting for him about the use of dynamite and nitro more safely in the mine. He'll pay well."
"So you'd be an engineer in a coal mine?" Even in silence Beth looked furious, her pencil lines pressed deep into the paper.
Heyes wrote back, taking the opportunity to touch Beth's hand as he took the pencil from her, trying to calm her fears. "No. Just a consultant. It's what my MA thesis was about – controlling the forces - making things safer."
Beth was not soothed in the least. "But you'd have to go into that coal mine."
Heyes patiently explained in cursive. "Of course. I can't know how things should be done if I can't see the situation."
"Have you ever even been in a coal mine? Men die in those mines all the time." Beth asserted on paper.
Heyes replied in the neat handwriting that his wife had taught him. "No, I haven't been in a coal mine before. And I need to, consultant or teacher, if I want to help men who will be mining engineers. I need to know how things are. First hand."
"Things are dangerous! My sister tells me about West Virginia mining accidents all the time!" Beth was still steaming.
Heyes wasn't giving any ground. "I know. That's why they need me and my math. To make things safer. To save men's lives."
"You can't do anything about the poisonous gas, the coal dust explosions, the floods, the cave ins!" Beth countered.
The mathematician was fervent in his argument. "I can help make the explosives safer and maybe I can help prevent cave ins. The mine Cable manages just had some men killed in an explosion gone wrong. I read about it in the newspaper."
Beth pounced on the threat. "What did I tell you? Men die in those mines!"
"I won't be there all the time or every day the way the miners and real engineers are. Just now and then. The rest of the time, I'll manage Jed's place, nice and safe." Heyes tried to smile at his wife.
She wasn't backing down on her objections. "It sounds like you've already agreed. I thought you were going to tutor Colorado students."
Heyes continued to lay out his case. "If the Colorado folks want me to, I will. And if Cable and I agree, which we haven't yet, and Jed doesn't mind, I can do all three. None of it's really full time."
"And be a husband and father? That is full time." Now Beth was speaking, not writing. Her brown eyes were ablaze.
So Heyes turned away from the page as well and put his tongue back to use, but quietly, looking into his wife's eyes. "I know. I know that so well! I have to do all I can to support our family – and to do good for this country. My work can't just be theory and equations. I have to know the truth, first hand. Don't you see that?"
Beth sighed and took her husband's hand. "Yes, darling. I do see, now that you put it that way. I wish your calling wasn't so dangerous, but I suppose it has to be. I won't try to stop you. But be careful. Please remember that your daughter and I need you!" She touched her belly, taking Heyes' hand with hers to touch the same place.
Charlie looked at the Heyes family, troubled and puzzled. Beth silently handed him the opened journal. The professor read what his friends had written and nodded sadly. "Yes, Beth," he wrote, "your husband works with bullets and explosions, and not just on paper. It has to be dangerous work – so he can know the truth and use it to save lives."
"It's a sort of like Jed's work that way, isn't it?" Asked Beth softly.
Heyes nodded. He hadn't thought of it that way before, but it was true.
