Heyes sat in his cell, leaning against the bars as he read a mathematics journal that Charlie Homer had sent him. In fact, Heyes' own article would appear in this same journal in June – if he was either very lucky or they didn't mind publishing the words of a convicted felon. Heyes stopped reading and rubbed his eyes. The light wasn't good and he was tired, despite having been unable to get out of his cell that day. He had been pacing and reading and scribbling equations for hours, killing time as he waited for court to reconvene. Finally, he heard the footsteps of marshals coming down the hall. He threw down the journal and cursed. "No damn use, anyway," he muttered. He had just been reading something new to him that now he might never come to understand – or have the opportunity to use.
Heyes sighed heavily as he got to his feet and waited to be unchained from the bars and for his cell door to be opened. "Well, Heyes, I'm guessing this is it," said the blonde marshal.
"I'm guessing you're right, Harvey," said Heyes and tried to smile. "Could you please hold my chain back so I can straighten my tie without strangling myself and getting jail grease all over my shirt? Got to look decent for court."
"Sure, Heyes," said Harvey Litchfield the young marshal. "We're gonna' miss you around here, you know."
"Do you mind if I don't say I'll miss you guys – at least until I know if I'm going someplace better or someplace worse?" asked Heyes as they walked down the hall together.
"Not at all, Heyes," said Harvey. "I understand. I hope . . ." But his eyes went to the steely gaze of his fellow marshal and he didn't dare to say what he hoped.
One more time, Heyes and his marshals and his lawyer made their way down the jailhouse steps and across the street and up the courthouse steps through a crowd of decriers and supporters and press. There were fewer of them today because it was grey and dripping with rain, but it was still quite a crowd. The stout old lady in black who prophesied doom and damnation was still there bellowing away, as was the guy with the sign of support from denizens of Wyoming. The sign was getting kind of battered and today the hand drawn letters were starting to run in the rain, but the guy yelled as Heyes and his chains clattered up the courthouse steps "We love you, Heyes!"
"Thanks, man!" yelled Heyes back, responding to his public for the first time. With his attention divided and his chains tangling, the defendant slipped on the steps and fell to his knees for the second time in two days. Harvey the marshal helped him up again. "And thanks Harvey," murmured Heyes to the one lawman who seemed to be most in his corner. "I hope I don't slip up in there."
Soon Cole joined Heyes in a meeting room for a last consultation before what looked like being the conclusion of the trial. Heyes stood looking at his lawyer in desperate appeal. "Cole, is there anything you can do to protect Dr. Leutze? He just can't get arrested!"
Cole held up his hand. "Hold on there, Heyes. Don't worry! I've talked to the judge about it. So long as they didn't actively help you to avoid arrest or to commit a crime, none of your friends will be liable to aiding and abetting charges. As long as all they did was not to turn you in, they're safe."
"Thank God! And thank you!" breathed Heyes. "That's the best news I've heard in I don't know when! Seems like every jurisdiction and every judge interprets that one differently. I've sure heard tell of courts where they'd all go down for me. And don't tell me – I know there are more here than I've seen in court. We've got to avoid calling them as character witnesses if we can. At the least, it could hurt their careers." But Heyes was thinking that there was one person who would be in definite danger. This was a person he had not seen in court or heard of being in town – one person who had actively helped Heyes and the Kid to avoid a posse that had included a sheriff. That was Cat Christy. If she showed up in court today, she would be arrested nearly as readily as the Kid himself.
"But I've got to ask you," said Heyes, looking Cole in the eye, "What about Wyoming? I know, I know – I'm not supposed to be thinking about Wyoming. But anyone who speaks for me here could get hauled off to Wyoming if they rule differently."
"So far as I understand, Heyes, it would be the same there," said Cole. "But you know individual judges . . ."
"Not as well as you do, Cole, but I know what you mean. So we hope and we pray," said Heyes anxiously.
Cole nodded. "Yeah, that's about all we can do until we get there. Concentrate on the here and now. You may feel like you've got it wrapped up, but don't get cocky, Heyes!" said Cole. "There are still a lot of hurdles to get over before this one's done. Do you know what Dr. Leutze will say on the stand?"
"I've got a pretty good idea," said Heyes with a grin that almost more of a grimace. "He'll tell the truth – - I just hope he doesn't tell too much of it. Our acquaintance started with something that I'd rather the court didn't hear about. Nothing illegal but. . . And I sure hope you're right about the judge."
"Heyes?" Cole needed to know every detail.
Heyes told the story. "The day after we'd played poker the first time at Christy's Place, Leutze was watching me so closely and so obviously that it made the Kid and me nervous. Frankly, we were worried he might be a bounty hunter. We got Leutze alone in a back alley and the Kid pulled his gun on him. That's when we found out who he was. I don't suppose anyone would arrest us over it, but it doesn't make us look like the world's safest characters."
Cole looked a little alarmed, "I agree. I just hope that little detail doesn't come up. There goes the call – back we go, Heyes!"
Heyes and his marshals and his lawyer went down the teeming hallway filled with the press, the law, and the public into the courtroom one more time. There they heard the clerk call "All rise!" as the judge entered. Then they all sat down and things got started.
Horace stood and called Dr. Samuel Leutze to the stand. Leutze strode purposefully from the back of the courtroom. He looked rumpled as Heyes had never seen his dapper doctor. Heyes could only guess that Leutze must have just gotten off the train and had little time to pull himself together for court. But the medical man gave Heyes a smile as he came forward. He looked keen and ready.
Once Leutze was sworn in, Horace asked, "Dr. Leutze, how, where, and when did you meet Hannibal Heyes?"
Leutze spoke calmly, seeming unfazed by the tense atmosphere of the courtroom with its jam-packed gallery and plethora of reporters. "I met him at a poker table in a saloon in a little town in Colorado, in October 1885. I was returning from a medical conference in San Francisco to my clinic in New York City when I received a telegram telling me that there was a man in Colorado who desperately needed my help. I was told that his name was Joshua Smith."
"Who told you that?" asked Horace. He didn't dare to pursue the actual name of the town where the meeting had taken place – he assumed that he would be hit with an objection. But revealing the state where the encounter had taken place was something to help the law for whom Horace worked.
Leutze hesitated for a moment to make sure that he had the names right, "Well, the original telegram was from a Dr. Grauer, who had treated the patient. So he was the first man to identity Smith – that is Heyes – to me in writing. Then, when I sat down at the poker table, I guess it was a guy named – um – Gordon Cable it was – a local miner – who introduced me to Smith."
Horace probed, "How long was it before you found out that the so-called Joshua Smith was really Hannibal Heyes?"
Leutze paused thoughtfully, "It was about three weeks after I had met him, or maybe a day or two longer."
"Could you please tell us about in detail, Doctor? How and where you met Mr. Heyes and what happened until you found out who he was?" asked Horace.
"Certainly. As I said, I was called in to help him to regain his speech and writing after he had been shot in the head," Leutze began. He glanced at the jury and saw that the twelve men were hanging on his every word, but it didn't rattle him in the least.
"Were you told how it was that he came to be shot?" asked Mr. Horace, interrupting his witness.
"No. I didn't ask the circumstances under which it had happened. As a doctor, I was concerned only with the medical facts of the wound, of course," Leutze sounded a little surprised that anyone would think a doctor might be concerned with anything else. Heyes began to worry in earnest – his doctor friend was distressingly naïve about the possible legal consequences of his words, it seemed. If he slipped and mentioned that it had happened when Heyes was fleeing a posse, things could suddenly turn bad.
"Please go on, Dr. Leutze," prodded Mr. Horace.
"As I said, I met Mr. Heyes at a poker table. I wanted to observe his behavior before I told him that I was a doctor who might be able to help him. I was most impressed by his use of gestures and signs to communicate. In a period of only weeks, he had worked out a very sophisticated system. He could play a superb and perfectly intelligible game of poker without saying a word. He was on real winning streak that first night," Leutze smiled and shook his head at the memory. Heyes sweated as Leutze spoke, praying that the incident of the Kid's drawing a gun on the good doctor would not come up. It had seemed so ordinary to him at the time, but now he could see how sinister it would seem to any outsider.
"Did you see Mr. Heyes employing any . . . um . . . special means in his success?" asked Horace, leadingly.
Leutze looked shocked. "What do you . . . Do you mean was he cheating? Of course not! He had no need to. Mr. Heyes is a brilliant mathematician! Winning at cards isn't easy for anyone and requires concentration, study of your opponents, and, of course, luck. But for someone with Mr. Heyes' grasp of probability and his ability to work sums in his head to figure up the shifting odds, and his ability to remember the movement of cards . . . Well, even before he went to college, winning against normal level opponents was comparative child's play for him. I didn't know about his level of mathematical genius at the time, but it was evident to me immediately that he had extraordinary abilities."
"Oh great!" thought Heyes silently to himself, "Even if I don't go to jail I'll never be able to sit down at a poker table again!"Heyes wondered how the Kid, sitting far behind him in the gallery, was getting through all of this. The state where he and Cat were living had been revealed to all. The law knew already, of course, but now the public would know as well. So Heyes felt for the Kid. He did not, of course, ever dare to turn around and look behind him to find out how his partner was reacting. Everyone in court, including the jury, was watching Heyes' every move much of the time, even when someone else was on the stand.
"Go on with how you found out who Mr. Heyes was, please," said Horace, continuing his search for what he assumed must be Heyes' pattern of lies.
"Well, I worked with him in Colorado for a few days, very intensely. This kind of therapy requires very intense mental labor and Mr. Heyes proved to be excellent at it. We were able to restore two words to his working vocabulary. That's very fast work for a patient so badly stricken – very fast, indeed. But then I had to return to my practice in New York where many patients were waiting for me. I asked Mr. Heyes – or Joshua Smith as I knew him then – if he would return with me to New York so he could be treated at my clinic. He was distinctly uneasy at the prospect, but he agreed. We took the train to New York together.
Then we worked together at my clinic in Manhattan. But at first it was no use. The rapid progress we had made out west stopped. In fact, he made no progress at all and even lost to the ability to use the words he had learned out west. It was clear that something was bothering him very badly. He wasn't sleeping and the exhausting mental labor that my mode of treatment requires was simply impossible for him. I was very worried and so was Mr. Smith – I mean Mr. Heyes. As I say, it could not have been clearer that something was bothering him."
"Could it have been guilt?" asked Horace.
"That, it turned out, was exactly what it was," said Leutze with a nod. There was a flurry of excitement in the courtroom. "Being unable to speak or write, he was unable to communicate his identity to us or to let us know the level of risk that his presence might pose to the clinic. Mr. Heyes could not cope with the guilt he was experiencing. I could not understand what it was that was placing such terrible pressure on my patient. But I saw that if something was not resolved soon, his treatment or even his life might be in danger."
The courtroom, except for quiet words of Samuel Leutze and the unceasingly scribbling of court clerks and reporters, was utterly silent. Everyone was raptly listening to this story that told them of a Hannibal Heyes utterly new to almost everyone there, even after all the testimony they had previously heard. As Heyes had endured his greatest torment, only he himself had understood what had nearly destroyed him. As Leutze had said, it had been guilt - the same emotion that had dogged him tirelessly for thirty years.
Leutze stopped to take a sip of water and then went on, "But an amazing thing happened that will tell you a great deal about the character of Mr. Heyes. A patient of ours at the clinic, who is totally unable to speak a word even to this day, was wrongly arrested over a misunderstanding caused by his disability. When the police came to get him and take him to the police station, I of course accompanied my patient to insure that the misunderstanding was straightened out. But Mr. Heyes insisted on also going along. He and the wrongly charged man had become friends somehow, with not a word able to be spoken between them. Heyes was adamant that he would accompany his friend to the police station. He did this despite the fact that he would, as I did not then understand, be placing himself in the most acute danger. He insisted upon providing moral support for his innocent but terrified friend.
We got to the police station and Mr. Heyes provided vital moral support for his friend until the man was locked up. After that, Mr. Heyes, being unable to speak or write a word, was left on his own for some time while the police and I took care of the paperwork. Before we left the station, Mr. Heyes found me and took me to a room that he had found where they had wanted posters from all over the country. This included prominently displayed posters for himself and Mr. Curry. Mr. Heyes stood in front of his own poster and pointed at it, insisting that I read it. The resemblance between the description and the man before me was undeniable. And, of course, the same was true of Mr. Curry, whom I had come to know fairly well. Mr. Heyes held out his hands as if he was in handcuffs – as he is now." Leutze stopped and looked Heyes in the eye.
"Therefore, without speaking a word, Mr. Heyes was able to tell me who he was and to enable me to turn him in to the law then and there. He knew that his presence at the clinic could put us in danger and he insisted that I know that. Only in knowing that, could I decide whether or not I wished to take the risk of keeping Mr. Heyes among us."
Leutze paused again to take a drink, leaving every other person in the courtroom hanging for a long, tense moment. Then Leutze went on, "And I refused to turn him in. I know that I may be arrested for it, but having seen the bravery and faith with which he had supported his innocent friend, and remembering my oath to only help my patients, I simply could not do it. I took Mr. Heyes back to the clinic and assured him that he would be safe with us. And so he was.
After that, knowing that he had communicated the truth to me, Mr. Heyes was able to make the extraordinary progress that you can see today. With the most devoted hard work every single day, he regained his speech and his ability to write. Mr. Heyes is, without a doubt, the most successful patient we have ever treated who had been stricken so badly by aphasia. For him now to be able to not only study but even teach at the college level – at least, should he not be imprisoned – is utterly incredible. It is the greatest tribute to his hard work and honor. And he is, I assure you, as brilliant a teacher as he is a mathematician.
I recall at the clinic quoting a Bible verse that addresses Mr. Heyes' situation perfectly – the truth shall set you free. He could not live a lie any longer – not if it put his friends in danger. If ever an outlaw could be said to have turned to the side of good, it is Mr. Heyes – and, of course, his partner. That is only my opinion, I realize. But as someone who has worked with the man for over five years, that is what I believe."
The judge did not for some time even attempt to quiet the loud cheers and general cacophony that erupted from the gallery. The effort would have been in vain. Dr. Leutze looked up to see Beth dabbing at her eyes.
Finally, the judge took pity on Mr. Horace and gaveled for quiet. The prosecutor said in a low, strangled voice, "No further questions for this witness."
Cole, trying with little success not to smile, said, "I have no questions for this witness."
If the jury believed Dr. Leutze, Horace's case was finished. But the state prosecutor had his job to do and he strove to do it to the best of his ability. He would carry it to the end. And there was only one end remaining, unlikely as it seemed to him that his final question could be answered.
Horace stood and declaimed, "The end of all of these questions, your honor and gentlemen of the jury, has been to determine the truthfulness of Mr. Heyes' testimony. He has evidently been as truthful as possible with his recent acquaintances. There is one other way, however, of verifying what we have heard about the shooting in question. One other living person saw that event. That was Jedediah "Kid" Curry. While he is the partner of the accused, and Mr. Heyes acted to free him, were he to testify, he would be legally bound to tell the truth. According to what Dr. Leutze has told us, and according to what I have heard by telegraph from a sheriff with whom Mr. Curry has worked closely for some years, the man would be most unlikely to lie even to protect himself. Therefore I ask – is Jedediah Curry is this courtroom?"
There was a long, tense silence. The jurors and the crowd all looked around in search of a man fitting the description of Kid Curry. Heyes looked straight at the judge, whom he could see was studying the gallery behind Heyes.
Finally, a blonde bearded figure in the back of the court stood up and said in a flat voice, "Yes, sir. I am Jedediah Curry. Since you ask it, I will testify." There had been many disturbances during the trial, but this one was the loudest and longest and the most sensational. Every head turned and every mouth exclaimed as Kid Curry, dressed in his best old grey suit, held out his hands and allowed himself to be handcuffed by marshals and led to the front of the court. The marshals patted down the Kid, but found no weapons on him.
Heyes shook his head at his partner. Beth was openly in tears. Cole was stunned. Charlie was trying in vain to comfort Jim. But Heyes, under cover of the commotion, whispered to his lawyer, "You remember the dirty sheriff that the Kid and I got thrown into prison – Clitterhouse? He's in the back of the courtroom in handcuffs with two marshals. He must have identified the Kid for the law and the Kid knows it. That beard wouldn't hide him for a minute with someone who really knows him. But the law knew where he was in Colorado, anyhow. If they wanted him, they had him. Thing is, they've had him and me both these five years. They decided to bring in Clitterhouse and finger the Kid only now. Why now?"
Cole shrugged. It was politics and Heyes and Cole both knew it. The only question was what kind of politics and had the politics finally resolved into amnesty or not. But Cole was worried. For the first time since the trial began, he sweated and wiped his brow in agitation. He had made no plans for this testimony and he had no idea of what it might do to the fate of his client, his client's partner, and their two fiancées. He did not know Jed Curry or exactly what he might say. There must be many things in the blonde gunman's head that would get him into desperate trouble if he said them aloud in court.
The judge looked steadily at the Kid. "Mr. Curry, will you please state your full name for the court."
The Kid said, "Jedediah Curry."
The court clerk swore in Curry, who looked as solemn and upright as he had ever been in his life.
Horace went forward and confronted the notorious gunman with no show of fear. "Mr. Curry, were you in court to hear Mr. Heyes' testimony about how he shot Mr. Gunther?"
"I was," said the Kid steadily.
Horace tried to smile ingratiatingly, thought he knew that the Kid would never trust him. "Then you know his version of events. But we want your own version of what happened, as uninfluenced by Mr. Heyes' testimony as possible. Could you please tell us in your own words what happened that day, starting with the moment when you first realized that Mr. Heyes was outside the shed where you were held captive?"
The Kid nodded. He always said that he wasn't much of a talker, but he could tell a story when he wanted to and now was his moment. "I'd been tied up there in that muddy shed for several days. They fed me OK, but it was no fun and I was wondering when they were going to turn me into the law or kill me. And I knew they'd do the same to my partner, if they could get him. I had just come back from . . . um . . . relieving myself outside and Mr. Bentley had just left me and told me to be quiet when I heard the knocks at the door of the shed that was the signal between Mr. Heyes and myself that Mr. Heyes was there by himself. I gave my signal of knocks on the shed wall that I was alone, so's Heyes'd know it was safe for him to get me out."
The Kid paused and cleared his throat. He looked at Heyes for a moment, hoping that he wasn't saying too much or too little. Heyes just looked him in the eye and tensely licked his lips. He didn't dare even to nod. He didn't want to come across as manipulating the witness in any way.
Curry went on, "Then I heard scraping at the locks of the shed. I knew that my partner was picking the locks. He was quick at it, as usual. He's a d . . . he's very good at picking locks. When he opened the door, I could see it was coming on to storm outside. It was dark and the wind was blowing and it was commencing to rain. It was real dark and hard to see, but I'd know Heyes anywhere. Heyes . . . Mr. Heyes saw me and crawled toward him as well as I could. He came right in the door quick and took the rag out of my mouth. But I saw Sean – Mr. Gunther come up to the doorway behind Heyes – Mr. Heyes. He – Gunther, that is - drew his gun. I opened my mouth to tell Heyes he was there, but Heyes saw what was going on from the look on my face as he said. He turned around lightning fast, just like he showed out there on the shooting range. Gunther, like I said, he'd drawn his gun. And I heard him cock it, but he just stood there for a second, not firing. Seems to me that he wasn't sure who it was there – might have been Bentley. He looked kind'a like Heyes – from the back, anyhow – long brown hair and black hat, you know. Could only see that nasty scar of his on his neck from the front. He was taller than Heyes, but when he was bent over it would be hard to tell that.
Anyhow, Gunther was kind'a hung up there for a moment, unsure in the dark you know. But when Heyes spun around so fast, Gunther looked scared as h . . . looked real scared and he pulled the trigger. Bullet almost hit Heyes and got even closer to me, but it missed us clean. I guess Gunther was scared, figuring who it was he had there, and it spoiled his aim. Just barely after Gunther fired, Heyes let off his gun and shot the back out of Gunther's skull. There was blood all over, but the rain kept washing it away. Heyes was right cut up about it, I think. He'd never killed nobody before and been real careful not to. But he didn't say nothin' but to ask after me and then tell me that Gunther was dead for sure. Then Bentley came up behind Heyes in that shed door while he was untying me. Caught him flat footed. Was raining so hard by then that it's no wonder Heyes didn't hear the man coming and I was looking at Heyes, so I didn't see him. Thank God Mr. Wiseman came along when he did with his rifle to get us out of it! But you got all that in that first trial on that conspiracy."
"Yes, Mr. Curry, so we did," said Horace. "So you are absolutely certain that Mr. Heyes did not fire at Mr. Gunther until after Mr. Gunther had fired at him?"
The Kid darted a glance of his blue eyes at the judge and then at Horace. "Yes, sir, dead certain of that."
"Your witness, Mr. Cole," said Horace wearily.
"I have only one question, Mr. Curry," said Cole. "Why are you here, in this courtroom? You could presumably be hundreds of miles away and in safety now, rather than here where you will surely be arrested for armed robbery as you step off the stand. Why?"
Curry stood up very straight and looked at the judge as he spoke, "Do you think, sir, that I would do less for my own partner than he'd done for that poor man from the Leutze clinic when he got arrested? I wouldn't leave Heyes to stand here by himself. He wouldn't be on trial at all if not for me. He was up here in Montana to save me. I'd gotten myself in trouble up here when he told me not to go, but he still came to help me out. And besides, the law knows where I live. They'd just have to come to get me if they wanted me. I wouldn't have run away or shot my way out, not anymore, and they know it. We've gone straight, Heyes and me. And straight means straight."
The judge stood and looked into Jed Curry's eyes, "Mr. Curry, I would like to thank you for coming here today, and throughout the trial, to see justice done. I cannot know what will happen to you from here, but this court owes you thanks."
"You're welcome, your honor," said Curry. "I just did what I thought was right."
The courtroom again erupted in applause, but long before silence fell, Curry stepped from the stand. And, as the judge and Cole had predicted, four marshals sprang up to surround him. The lead marshal said, "Jedediah Curry, you are under arrest for armed robbery in the then territory, now state, of Wyoming. When this trial is concluded, you will be transported there for trial."
The Kid, already in handcuffs, nodded at the marshals. He looked over at his partner, who looked sorrowfully back at him and threw him a crisp military-style salute. He had to do this carefully to avoid hurting himself with his chains, but he had to express his respect and thanks somehow.
The prosecutor now concluded his case, his dull voice making it plain that he anticipated a loss. And yet it seemed to Heyes that the man would have been far sorrier to have won. Heyes was not sure, but he thought he might well have won another convert there.
"Gentlemen of the jury," said Horace, "the case comes down to one question. Did Hannibal Heyes fire at Sean Gunther, III, in pure self-defense, or for any other cause? If he fired in anger to kill the man who had taken his devoted partner hostage rather than to save his own life, then you must find Mr. Heyes guilty of second degree murder. You have heard the evidence. You must decide not on the character of the defendant or the character of his partner and certainly not on the character of any of the witnesses. You must decide upon the facts. That concludes my case, your honor."
"Thank you, Mr. Horace," said the judge. "Mr. Cole?"
"Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the testimony of the defendant and of his partner and of the sheriff who found the body of Mr. Gunther when he went to arrest Mr. Bentley. If Mr. Heyes fired in self-defense, then he is innocent of second-degree murder. If you have any reasonable doubt as to whether Mr. Heyes fired in self-defense, then you must find him innocent. It is impossible to be certain of the exact split-second timing of events that we did not, ourselves, witness. However, from the testimony we have heard, it must be clear that Mr. Heyes had every reason to fear for his life and for the life of his partner. He knew with nearly perfect certainty that an armed man was behind him and that he was not a friend. Therefore, Mr. Heyes pulled his own gun and spun around. But if we are to believe what we have heard, even so, Mr. Heyes did not fire his weapon until he was completely certain that his own life was in immediate danger. The man with the gun behind him could have merely held the gun on his and tied him up like his partner – in that case, we may speculate, Mr. Heyes would not have fired. He might easily have died for that decision, but he held his fire until he could be certain that he and his partner were in immediate mortal danger. Then he pulled the trigger. He was sorry about the results, but he had had no choice. I submit that Mr. Hannibal Heyes shot Sean Gunther, III, entirely in self-defense. Therefore you must find him innocent."
The judge then gave his final instructions to the jury. "Gentlemen of the jury, the question to be decided here is a simple one, although the evidence is not simple. Mr. Heyes was certainly surprised by Mr. Gunther and was not intending to find him and kill him; therefore this is not first degree murder. But if Mr. Heyes fired at Mr. Gunther to save his own life, then you must find that he acted in self-defense and you must find him innocent of second-degree murder. If he fired to kill the man for any other reason than to save himself, then you must find him guilty of second-degree murder, for which he is likely to spend the rest of his life in prison. If you have any reasonable doubt whatsoever that Mr. Heyes fired to kill Mr. Gunther rather than to save himself, then you must find Mr. Heyes innocent. That is the letter of the law. Gentlemen, consult together and when you have come to a unanimous decision, report back to the court and let us know your findings. Do you have any questions? Do you require anything? Or are you ready to consult to make your finding?"
The jury foreman looked around the jury and all shook their heads at him. The little round man stood and said, in his rumbling bass voice, "Your honor, we are ready to consult and make our finding. If we take more than a little time at it, we are likely to require dinner before we can conclude. Other than that, we require nothing more. We understand what we must do." The jury quietly filed out. Every one of them glanced curiously at Heyes, who looked back with perfect calm and solemnity. He did not flinch from meeting their inquiring gazes, but he also did not seek to change their opinion in any way as they walked past him.
The court room emptied quickly as people went to get their dinners, hoping to eat quickly and not miss anything. The kid was taken away, silent and tense, but the marshals said that they would bring him back to the courtroom for the verdict. Heyes and his marshals and lawyer remained until nearly everyone else had left. Now that the jury was not watching, Beth came as near as she could to Heyes and said, with tears welling in her eyes, "Darling, how are you?"
Heyes could not muster a smile. "Worried, love. About you as much as me. Are you alright? Do you have everything you need?"
"Everything but you! And oh, I'm so worried about Jed!"
"I wish I could say I wasn't, but I am, too. Either we both go down or neither, I think. I just wish we knew!"
Then the marshals took Heyes away to a meeting room where he and Cole ate a brief, sparse supper of beef stew. It was good but they could hardly choke it down with the marshals watching them nervously. Yet they were only just finishing and wiping their mouths when the word came that the jury was returning. Cole and Heyes exchanged a questioning glance. Then they hustled back to their places in the courtroom. Soon they were standing as the judge returned to the bench.
Then the jury filed back in. The conclusion was obvious. The jurors were smiling to each other and at Heyes. The Kid was brought in his chains to stand near Heyes. The courtroom was still half empty with the gallery folks streaming back in after their suppers when the little round jury foremen stood and announced in a shout to be heard above the commotion, "We have reached a verdict, your honor."
"Well, out with it man – what is it?" said the judge.
"Hannibal Heyes is innocent of second degree murder!" proclaimed the foreman, smiling.
"You are all agreed and that is the finding of you all?" asked the judge, fulfilling the traditional formula.
"Yes, your honor, it is." The rapidly filling courtroom erupted in cheers and yells and applause. But Heyes didn't smile and neither did Cole or the Kid or Beth.
The judge looked solemnly at Heyes and spoke loudly above the continuing noise. "Mr. Heyes, I wish that I could say go on your way with no stain upon your character, but the marshals standing ready to arrest you make it clear that that would be premature. I can only wish you justice, Mr. Heyes, and your partner as well. You have certainly won some loyal friends. I know that there are many more of them not in attendance here."
"Thank you, your honor," said Heyes in a choked voice. "I, too, hope only for justice for my partner and myself."
As promised, four marshals stepped forward and said, "Hannibal Heyes and Jedediah Curry, we are here to arrest you both for the armed robbery of the Merchant's Bank of Blackfork, Wyoming, on the thirty-first of August in the year 1883. Come quietly and we will take you to Cheyenne, Wyoming to stand trial."
Beth pushed her way to Heyes' side, saying, "Oh, Love, they can't lock you up!"
Heyes took Beth in his chained arms, "I sure hope not. If they put us away, my darling, they'll never let us go." And he kissed her long and deep. There were enough of the press and public around for that last ringing line to quickly find its way into the papers and then the ballad singers took it up. But something much more dramatic happened after that in words too soft for any press or strangers at all to hear.
Heyes and the Kid stepped toward the marshals. "Could I have a moment with my fiancée and my lawyer and my partner, please, gentlemen?" asked Heyes in a dull, low voice.
"Yes, Mr. Heyes, but only a moment. They can all see you later," said the lead marshal.
"Cole, will you please represent us both in Wyoming?" asked Heyes, with the Kid nodding his agreement.
Cole nodded, "Yes, gentlemen. I'll do it gratis. We all know it won't take long."
"Yeah, with the case they chose – as open and shut a conviction as anyone could ask," said Heyes grimly.
In the loud commotion Beth came to Heyes' side, motioning Curry close so the three could share news that no one else, not even Cole, would hear. She whispered the question that was worrying them both, "Jed, is Cat here in town?"
The Kid shook his head, glancing to make sure that no marshals or anyone else was close enough to overhear him. "No, she's home. She's been sick."
"Sick?" asked Heyes, suddenly very worried.
The Kid gave a lopsided, nervous grin, "Don't worry – nothing seven months' time won't cure."
"Morning sickness!" whispered Beth, torn between joy and anguish. "Oh, Kid!"
"Yeah," said the Kid gruffly under his breath, "I'm the worst rat in the West. I left the poor lady to have Kid Curry's bastard all alone." Jed Curry bowed his head and he clumsily put up his chained hand to wipe away the tears that seeped past his tightly shut eyelids. Beth and Heyes put their arms around the Kid and wept with him, the two men's chains chiming harshly together. Soon there would be one more person to whom the partners' uncertain future would mean everything.
Finally, the marshals obliged the trio to part, but they did it as gently as they could. "I'm so sorry, Miss," said the lead marshal, "but we have to go. We have to catch that train to Cheyenne." Beth was left weeping in the courtroom with Charlie and Jim rushing to her side.
"Good-bye, Heyes!" called Harvey the marshal after his fellow marshals. Heyes turned and waved at him. A dozen lawmen led the partners out of the courthouse and down the street in chains amid noisy crowds and men selling popcorn. A brass band began to play "Home Sweet Home." Although it was after 7:00 at night it was still daylight and the sinking sun had come out to gleam like gold on the wet streets of Helena, Montana.
But suddenly everyone ran for cover as the pounding rain returned and thunder rolled in the distance. By the time they got to the train station, there was no one at all to greet the dripping-wet company of notorious outlaws and marshals. There was not one person who had come to cheer or yell or forecast doom or wave a sign.
