By the second afternoon of the trip west, more people were leaving the train than boarding it. Hannibal Heyes took advantage of the available spaces by lying across two seats with his legs crossed and his feet propped on the arm of the outer seat. He gazed at the landscape fleeting past the window across the way and occasionally made desultory notes in his journal. Beth handed her husband a little cross-stitched pillow to cushion the armrest behind his back. He settled back into it with a grateful smile and a comfy sigh.

A proper lady passing along the aisle looked down her nose and sniffed at the lounging man's lack of decorum. Beth might have felt the same at one time. But now she only glanced up, smiled affectionately at her husband, and then continued a long game of chess with Charlie Homer. It was hurting nobody for Heyes to ease his sore, gun-shot hip. The Louisville-bound Heyes, Beth, and Charlie were all already restless from sitting and they had nearly three days' train ride yet before them. Heyes had long given up on chess and dropped out of the conversation.

While Charlie considered his next move, Beth looked over the seat back in front of her. "What are you writing about, honey?"

"Oh, planning what all is gonna happen when we get there. What with starting up housekeeping, your teaching, getting ready for the baby, my managing a hotel and going down mines, we're gonna be busy. And that's even before we get Marvin moved out to join us. If the authorities in Wyoming approve. We'll need to give them a bunch of new details. And write to him, again." He bit his lower lip and looked down at his journal. He sighed and closed the leather bound book. He looked back at his wife. "What are you thinking about?"

Beth said, "Pretty much the same. I look forward to meeting Marvin, especially if he's as much like you as you say."

"I guess," said Heyes, leaning over his arms crossed on the back of his seat. "I don't know him that well yet, myself."

"I guess we'll find out more about him together. Let me help finish getting you past – you know - before that boy comes. He needs a father who's in charge of himself."

Heyes nodded glumly. They wouldn't talk openly in public about his drinking. He got up and came around to sit on the outer seat next to his wife. Charlie had fallen asleep over the travel chessboard.

As he sat down, Heyes said to his wife, "Tell me more about that prep school where you're gonna teach this fall."

Beth knew husband had every right to feel jealous of a wife who had gotten academic employment easily when Heyes himself had been trying in vain for such a post all summer. Mrs. Heyes said, "The University of Colorado started it because so many of their students don't have as much traditional schooling as they might. I'll teach English and composition to get some young men up to standard. Mr. Jordan, the senior teacher there, told me they have former cowboys and miners, mostly."

Heyes nodded. "We know you'll be good at that. If you could polish me up as well as you did with all my problems, anybody decent who got to high school should be a piece of cake for you."

Beth stroked her husband's hand and fondled the ring of old scars around his wrist. "Not exactly anybody. Maybe if they were as intelligent as you are, and as dedicated, they could do as well. But I wouldn't count on that from anyone else, ever. You, my love, are extraordinary."

Heyes snorted contemptuously. "Tell that to Harvard! And Keuka! And . . ."

Beth held up her hand. "They know it, darling. The academics do. They respect you. They just couldn't convince the boards to give you the trust to go with the respect. You know that – you told me that. One day, it will happen. Never doubt that."

The former outlaw was less sanguine. "I do doubt it. I might be managing little hotels for Jed forever. If I don't mess up and get his business to fail."

His wife asked, "Do you really feel so bad to be working with your partner again."

"Working for him," Heyes corrected her sharply.

Mrs. Heyes was determined. "With him. He'll be following your advice. He needs your guidance. He won't boss you around. You'll see."

"Watch him," Heyes spat out.

Beth started to lose patience with her husband's dark mood. "Men! Competitive little boys!"

Heyes groped for a parallel situation his wife would understand. "Well, how would you feel if you had to take a class taught by one of your old students?"

Beth pounced on this opportunity. "Proud, that a student of mine had learned enough to teach me something new and worthwhile. Like you do all the time. And you should feel proud, after all you've taught Jed."

"He won't look at it that way," the former leader of the Devil's Hole gang growled.

His wife gently sad, "But he does, honey. He's says you've taught him more about money and managing and being a good boss than anyone."

"He said that? He's never said it to me." Heyes sounded reluctant to hear, or believe, anything positive.

Beth chuckled. "Of course not to you. You're both men. But he told me, when we were in West Virginia."

This made Heyes quiet and thoughtful for a long while. He wrote in his journal, making sure Beth wasn't reading over his shoulder.

Suddenly Heyes looked up. "You said the top teacher at the prep school is Mr. Jordan. He wouldn't be Jesse Jordan, would he?"

Beth was surprised. "Why, yes, that is his name. Do you know him?"

Heyes looked uneasy. "Yeah. Remember I told you about a friend who almost went to jail for aiding and abetting the Kid and me when we were on the jump from a posse? That was Jesse's wife, Belle."

"So Mr. Jordan's daughters are the famous girls with rifles who shot at a sheriff so you could get away?" Beth felt as if she was asking about some legendary figures. Heyes had told her the story long before.

"Yeah," said Heyes.

Beth observed, "You don't seem very happy about meeting your old friends again. Aren't you glad to have a friend at the University of Colorado? Someone who owes you for all that money you gave them?"

The former outlaw shot his wife a shamed glance. "Owes us? Not the Jordans. It's the other way around. The Kid and I owe them our freedom. We put them to a lot of trouble and put them in a lot of danger. The money we gave them could never make up for that. But they are good folks. I'll be glad to see them again. Their tomboy daughters will be all grown up by now." He sighed to think of all the time that had gone by.

Heyes fell silent again and went back to the pair of seats he had to himself.

When her husband had had a few minutes to himself, Beth said, over the back of Heyes' seat, "It's the money that bothers you so much, isn't it?"

"Huh?" Heyes looked up distractedly from his journal.

Beth said, analytically, "Being paid by Jed. Having it be his money. It bothers you, doesn't it?"

Heyes looked across the aisle to see that Charlie was awake. The professor smiled at his former student.

Heyes ignored his mentor's sunny attitude. He looked down and started writing again without a word to his wife. The ex-outlaw turned and twisted in his seat. He groaned. A conductor walked down the aisle, pausing opposite Heyes. They exchanged glances. Beth felt sure her husband knew the man.

Heyes stood clumsily and stretched. He took off without a word, walking down the train aisle with long, rapid strides. Charlie gave Beth an irritated look and pursued his former student. In Heyes' current mood, a bout of drinking seemed all too likely. Beth took out her novel and read for a while, but when her companions did not return in fifteen minutes, she started to become concerned. She has seen Charlie Homer briefly twice, but had not caught a glimpse of Heyes.

Finally, a few minutes later, Charlie strode up to Beth's seat, alone. The tall, grey-haired professor leaned over and murmured, "I've been all the way to the back end of the train aisle and back here three times. I know I didn't pass him, unless he's learned to turn invisible. You didn't see him, did you?"

"No. Could he have seen you coming and hidden in one of those tiny little rooms with a toilet?" Asked Beth.

"Three times? I doubt it. It would get obvious," said Charlie dubiously. "And I was sneaky."

Beth asked fearfully, "You don't think he's gotten off the train, do you?"

Charlie sat down. "I hope not. I don't see why he'd want to."

"Maybe he spotted some dangerous person and wanted to lead them away from us? Like the Teasdale brothers." Speculated Mrs. Heyes.

"I sure hope not!" Exclaimed Charlie.

Beth thought a moment. "Me, too. But you know Joshua. My hero. Hm. Did you check the caboose?"

Professor Homer was taken aback. "The caboose? Only railroad employees can go in there."

Beth corrected him, "Or their friends. Believe it or not, Heyes has some railroad friends. He's ridden in a few cabooses. I think he knows one of the conductors. I'm afraid sometimes the conductors and other guys gather back there and gamble – and drink, Heyes says."

Charlie got back to his feet. "Oh, gee. I better go check."

Beth speculated, "He can't possibly have more than two dollars in his pocket, and probably not that much, since he gave back most of what he took out of my purse. But a friend could hand him a bottle."

"There are ways for him to get funds, too, being who he is," Charlie suggested without getting specific. "Well, I'll go have a look. Don't worry, and don't come yourself."

Beth expected her fellow travelers to return soon, but they didn't. It seemed as if hours went by as she kept looking around but to no avail. She looked again and again at the empty seat next to her.

Finally, half an hour later, much to Beth's relief, Heyes came sauntering up the aisle with Charlie on his heels. The former outlaw had a self-satisfied smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye.

"Hello, husband. So where have you been?" Asked his wife as casually as she could.

"Playin' black jack with the boys in the back," said Heyes in his most countrified put-on accent, accompanied by a wide, wicked grin.

"Winnin'?" Asked Beth playfully.

Heyes nodded. "A little. Didn't stay long." Then suddenly he was all formal business. "I do believe I owe you some money, Madam. Allow me to address that." He bowed and presented her with a small, neat stack of bills.

Beth kissed him on the cheek. She was relieved to smell no whiskey on his breath. "Thank you. That's more than you took, but I'm not complaining," she whispered in his ear.

As Heyes straightened up, Charlie asked, with a gleam in his eye, "Well, what trick did you use to get a stake for the game I walked in on?"

Heyes chuckled. "The old five pat hands trick. Fetched me twenty bucks."

His wife and mentor both smiled - they had seen the trick demonstrated during the course of a story-telling evening years before.

"Pretty slick," commented Charlie, who stood in the aisle as Heyes sat down.

"Well, considering I've gotten twenty thousand out of it in the past, it doesn't seem like a lot to me," muttered Heyes.

"But, Joshua," Beth asked, remembering to stay with an unrevealing name, "you must have needed a stake before you could even make that bet."

The former outlaw explained, "Yeah. I've seen one of these conductors on a lot on trips in and out of New York and we've gotten friendly. I explained the trick to him. He staked me and I paid him back out of my winnings with some extra."

Heyes sighed, not needing his wife to point out the chances he had been taking with their small store of cash. "But I know – I could have lost. A father needs to be more careful about money. I know. I'll watch out better, in future. I just wanted to pay you back, be square again." said the former outlaw.

Beth smiled gratefully, "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that. Did they know who you are?"

Heyes looked evasive. "Well, I didn't exactly tell them my full name, any more than they told me theirs. That's how it is with gambling. Small stakes, anyhow."

"But what about that one conductor?" Asked Beth.

"Uh, he's just seen me the last few years. No names."

Beth laughed. Heyes grinned again and said, "Gosh, I really can't wait till I get to hold our baby." He sat down in the seat next to his wife.

Beth snuggled against his shoulder. "Me, too. I do wish you'd pull one of those card tricks on somebody where I could watch you. It would be so fun," she whispered.

"Alright, we'll do that some time, once we get to Louisville," Heyes whispered back, "But your poker face needs work or you'll give me away."

"You coach me, daddy," murmured Beth.

"With pleasure, love," said the expectant father, putting his arm around his wife, "with pleasure."

As the train came to a stop at a small station where they would be taking on supplies Heyes stood and took his suitcase down from the luggage rack. "Beth!" He whispered urgently, "give me my Colt."

"What's wrong?" Asked his concerned wife. The tall, grey-haired Charlie Homer crossed the aisle to stand by the Heyes protectively.

"Nothing. I'm just getting into my western stuff. I want my Colt in my holster in case we run into trouble. And we just might, out here. We're getting into territory where the Kid and I used to work." Heyes was very serious as he looked back and forth between Beth and Charlie. There was a tense pause. "Well, do I get it? The little thing in my pocket isn't gonna carry a lot of weight."

Beth glanced questioningly at Charlie, who nodded. She looked around to make no one was watching as other passengers were also busy digging into their luggage. She reached into her canvas bag and cautiously handed her husband the weapon under the doubtful cover of a lacy napkin. Heyes grinned as he took it, amused by the strange juxtaposition. "Thanks. Don't worry. I won't go drawing it on every guy who looks at you, sweetie."

When Heyes returned from changing in the washroom, Beth smiled at him and her eyes glowed. She looked admiringly from the golden-brown boots on up to the gun belt and finally to the black hat with its silver conchas. She loved seeing her man in his full western gear.

She leaned over and playfully tugged the hem of his embroidered vest. She asked, "What, no gloves and chaps?"

He gave her a slow smile. "Later, dear heart. In the real West."

The pair sat quietly, holding hands and saying nothing for a long time.

After dinner was over and cleared away from the dining car, the conversations around the train quieted down. The sun slid toward setting. Heyes and his wife leaned against each other and tried to get some rest. But the quiet was interrupted by a fussy baby. His mother soothed him as best she could, giving him a rag to suck on, but he kept crying. "I'm sorry," said the mother to her neighbors. "Poor Freddy is teething."

Heyes scowled and many passengers muttered in annoyance. Two days on the train were enough to make him and his fellow passengers feel a bit fussy, too. But then Heyes looked at Beth and turned thoughtful. He went to the end of the car and dug into his luggage. He returned with his guitar. He softly tuned it, trying not to annoy the already testy passengers around him.

Heyes, who was very out of practice, slowly picked out Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. The passengers around him quieted to listen. The baby's crying grew softer and softer. But, when the short song was over, the crying began again. Heyes began to play a gentle, sweet melody that wandered. He hummed softly along with his guitar. The song went on for quite a while, changing a bit with each chorus. Eventually, it took on a sweeter flow. Soon, the baby fell quiet and then he slept. The young mother smiled gratefully at the musician, who nodded back and kept playing.

Finally, the song ended. Heyes looked anxiously across be aisle at the child, but little Freddy was deeply asleep.

"That was lovely, honey," murmured Beth quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace. "You made it up on the spot?"

Heyes put his guitar back in its flour sack. "Well, not exactly on the spot, but I was polishing it up. I've been thinking about it a while. For our own baby."

"Aw, that's sweet." Beth leaned against her husband's shoulder. She soon fell asleep and Heyes almost slept himself, though he was trying to continue watching out for any threat.

Charlie fell asleep across the aisle, and eventually the whole car was filled with the soft sounds of sleep. Finally, the former outlaw dropped off.

The next morning, after breakfast, the train slowed. A conductor came down the aisle, announcing, "There is a blockage on the track ahead. We will be pausing at the town of Galva until the tracks are cleared. Passengers may leave the train, but please do not leave the station area. You won't want to miss the announcement of when the train departs."

As the train breaks shrieked, the impatient Heyes immediately jumped off the train, before it had quite come to a stop. Charlie and Beth both followed him at a distance along the modest wooden platform of the small town station. They saw him knock on the door of a little booth labeled "Station Manager."

"Hey, boy, come out here! Hands up!" Said Heyes arrogantly, but without touching his pistol.

A little man in a railroad uniform stepped out and yelled furiously, "Who's calling me boy and bossing me around?"

"Me!" Said Heyes with a mocking grin as he stood with his hands on his hips.

If Beth had been close enough not to have to shout for him to hear her, she would have asked her husband if he had lost his mind, and his manners. But the station manager changed his tune. "Heyes! Welcome to Galva, you old reprobate!" He slapped the former outlaw companionably on the shoulder.

"Jackie! I hoped I'd get to see you, station master," said Heyes gladly. A few other passengers turned to look as the former outlaw. But as the two men shook hands enthusiastically, the strangers looked away again. This couldn't really be the notorious Hannibal Heyes. He couldn't possibly be friends with a railroad employee, could he?

"Gosh, it's good to see you!" exclaimed Heyes with a brilliant grin. Then his voice fell suddenly and he glanced around uneasily. "But let's talk in private. I like to use my new middle name, Joshua."

"0h, sure. Sorry If I gave you away. I heard about the amnesty, but I guess you still got your worries. Been a long while, ain't it?" Said Jackie as they stepped into the little office where he worked. "I been reading about you and the Kid in the newspapers, Joshua, old pal. You both been having a busy time, looks like."

Heyes and his friend the railroad man talked avidly. "Yeah, that's so. The Kid's a sheriff out in Colorado. He and his wife have a baby on the way. My wife and I are expecting, too. And yeah, I do still worry about folks knowing who I am, now that I've changed sides. I got enemies and I have a family to worry over."

"Sorry about the worries, but I'm glad to hear you got hitched and got little guys coming along. Congratulations to you and your wife, and the Kid and his!"

"Thanks. How's things with you?"

Jackie said, "Can't complain. Got a nice home here now that I'm a station master and not riding the rails all the time. Even got married and got a couple of kids. Wish you could meet my wife, Laura. She's a good gal. She's heard a bunch of stories about you."

"Hey, congratulations, yourself, if kinda late," said Heyes, slapping his friend enthusiastically on the back. "You can meet my wife, and my advisor from Columbia." Heyes looked out of the booth and waved for his wife and friend to come down the station platform from the bench where they were sitting. "Beth, Charlie, come meet my pal Jackie Holder!" he said as they got close enough to hear his low voice.

Charlie then extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Mr. Holder. I'm Charlie Homer and this is Mrs. Elizabeth Heyes."

Jackie tipped his cap to Beth and shook Charlie's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Ma'am, Professor."

"Glad to meet you, sir," said Beth. "How do you know Heyes?"

The former holdup man and his improbable railroad man friend looked at each other and both burst out laughing. Jackie found his voice first, speaking in a sharp Kentucky accent. "We met over the barrel of a gun when I was just started as an errand boy on the railroad. Heyes' gun. What was it, Heyes, almost twenty years ago?"

"Pretty near that, now, Jackie. You sure looked scared when I told you to put your hands up!" Heyes laughed uproariously and his old friend joined in again.

"What? Heyes held you up? How is that funny?" Asked Beth, not going along with her husband's hilarious mood.

"It wasn't, then," said Holder. "I was scared stiff, and mad. But a couple of years later, in Wyoming someplace, he held me up again." He grinned.

"And again a few years after that, and again with the Kid . . ." Heyes chuckled and shook his head. "Jackie here holds the record. Between us, on railroads from here to Wyoming and out to California, the Kid and I have held him up eight times. Eight times!"

"Goodness!" exclaimed Beth. "That must have been strange."

Jackie took up the story. "At first it was scary. I mean, it was Heyes and Curry and the Devil's Hole boys. It was 'specially weird when I moved away, changed railroads and they still turned up. But they were always nice, polite, never hurt anybody. After while, we all of us couldn't help but laugh when it kept happening. We'd joke around and share the news. They really are nice guys, of course. Larcenous, but nice."

"Tell me about it!" Laughed Beth. "I married him. I know he's a good man." She put her arm around her husband, who kissed her.

"Beth was my tutor at the clinic where I learned to talk and write again after I took that bullet in the head," the former outlaw told his railroad man friend. "Beth's a very patient lady. And a sweetie. And Charlie was my advisor at Columbia University. He put up with a lot from me, poor guy."

"I know. I read all about your trial, pal," said Jackie, growing serious. "Sure is good to get to meet you both. I was awful sorry when they put Heyes and the Kid away."

"Not half as sorry as we were!" Exclaimed the former thief. "We had no idea we were going to get out in just three d-days." Heyes tried to ignore his own mild stutter. But he could see that his friend had noticed and was concerned.

"It was awful, waiting and knowing that they didn't know they'd be out soon," said Beth.

Jackie responded, "It must have been, Ma'am. I'm glad it wasn't longer than that. I'm sure it seemed like more than enough, to you folks. You've been through some tough times since we met last, haven't you, Heyes, old boy?" He looked compassionately at the scars on his friend's temple and his cheek.

Heyes shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But it's no more than I . . . deserved, I guess. And we've made a bunch of good friends after we went straight. You know the Kid's wife is Cat Christie, the lady who runs Christy's Place in Louisville?" The former outlaw bit his lip nervously, knowing his old friend would notice the inevitable slight hesitations in his speech.

"Cat Christie! No, I hadn't heard. That's great! Please give them both my best when you see them," said the little railroad man. "I've been in Christy's Place a few times, back when I was a conductor and her pa ran it, but not recently."

Heyes smiled, but a bit nervously. "I'll see the Kid and Cat soon. We're headed out there so I can manage the hotel they're buying."

"Great! The partners together again." Said Jackie enthusiastically.

"Yes, but no more holding up you or anybody, Jackie," said the former gang leader.

"And it's not just you and the Kid, anymore. A good wife makes all the difference. And what takes you so far from New York, Professor" asked Jackie Holder.

"I'm an old westerner, from Wyoming, but I've never been to Louisville. I'm going along to visit," said Charlie, "as a kind of vacation before school starts up again. I surely have heard a bunch about the place."

"Do you know the Kid and his wife?" Jackie asked Heyes old advisor.

"Yes, but not like I know Beth and Heyes." Charlie said, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "I've known Beth and Joshua for years."

"So you really taught this guy?" Asked Jackie, seeming to find it a strange thing.

"Oh, yeah. He's great at math. Not just solving problems – coming up with ways to use them nobody else has figured out. I could see how good he was even when he couldn't talk too well," said Charlie. "He's one of the top innovating young mathematicians in the world, now."

"Wow!" Jackie was impressed. Heyes grinned proudly.

"We're ready to go again! Get back abroad the west-bound train, please! All aboard! All aboard!" Cried a conductor walking along the platform.

Jackie called, "Bye, Heyes! Good to meet you, Professor, Mrs. Heyes! Have a good trip! Don't get held up!"

Heyes grabbed his old friend's hand and bid him farewell. His friends waved as they climbed onto the train.

The little station manager returned to the booth where he worked and his friends climbed onto the train, with the men solicitously helping Beth.

But before the passengers had finished getting back onto the train, Jackie came running back out of his booth waving a slip of paper. "Wait up!" He yelled. "Message for you, h . . . Joshua! Says its top priority!"

Heyes leaned down from the door of the train car to take the slip with the message from Jackie who jumped up and grabbed the railing by the door so he could get close to his friend. "I'll keep your trip quiet," whispered the little railroad man in the ex-outlaw's ear.

Heyes nodded. "Thanks! Take care."

As the train pulled out, Heyes waved to his friend with one hand and clutched the precious telegram in the other. He waited until he returned to his seat before he read it. Beth saw her husband's eyes widen as he read the brief message. She looked at him, trying to hide her fear. Nothing mild would have affected Hannibal Heyes like that.

"Can you show it to me?" Beth asked her husband softly.

There was a dreadful pause. The train rattled loudly over the tracks and shrieked shuddering around a long curve. Heyes swallowed and looked at his wife in an agony of indecision.

Beth opened her lips and closed them again. The two pairs of brown eyes locked on one another.

Charlie, sitting across the aisle, saw the tension between husband and wife. He could do nothing to help.

"Wouldn't do you much good for you to see it. It's in code," said Heyes at last.

"It must be from the Kid." If it was in code, Beth could have no doubt that the message came from her husband's partner and it was about something serious.

Heyes paused again. How badly did he dare to frighten his pregnant wife in telling her the truth that she always wanted to know?

His voice dropped to the softest whisper as he put his lips next to her ear. "The law spotted the Teasdale brothers on an eastbound train in Missouri last night."

"They probably have nothing to do with us," whispered Beth back as comfortingly as she could.

Heyes shook his head grimly. "The sheriff out there heard one of them say my name. And he wasn't being nice about it."

"Heyes sounds like a common enough name," Beth started to say.

The former outlaw shook his head again. "My . . . My whole name."

Beth hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God! Does the law know where they are now?"

"Oh, honey. No. They jumped off the train. The lawmen lost the trail, damn them. Sorry." Heyes as apologetic about the curse. It was the very first one his wife had taught him when he had first been learning to speak again.

The worried husband put his arm around his wife. "They don't know where we are. They're on their way to New York, the lawmen guess, thinking I'm still there. And they weren't traveling on this line."

Beth fought her fear. "But if anyone tells them . . . Lots of people could have figured it out. And when they get to New York . . . We have to send a message – tell Jim, the Columbia guys . . ."

Where his wife was confused, the former outlaw had no doubts. But he did have fears, well founded. "No. If we t-try to get a message through, it could be intercepted and give us away. They're good at that. Or their older brothers were. We know that from experience. No, I already told everyone to keep our travel plans quiet. We just have to trust our friends."

Beth nodded. She crossed the aisle to whisper the news to Charlie.

Then Heyes went back to sit at his wife's side. He smiled and took her hand. His friend the conductor walked by. He winked at Heyes. "Well, Joshua, what you gonna do with your winnings?"

"Invest 'em," joked the winner of such a modest amount.

"In beer?" Suggested the grey-haired conductor.

"Maybe. Or flowers for my gal, here," said Heyes, with his arm around Beth.

The conductor asked, "Why don't you come back and give us a chance to get back at you?"

Heyes chuckled, "No, thanks. I don't want you railroad men to take out against me when I pick every one of your pockets."

The railroad man laughed and went on with his job.

After hearing about the Teasdales, Heyes stayed at Beth's side every possible minute, usually with his hand discretely near his gun grip. The former criminal's eyes constantly searched the train car. But all this care was hidden under a smiling, carefree façade. No one but his two friends could see how watchful Hannibal Heyes was.

"Come on, Joshua. Play a game of chess with me," pleaded Charlie. "The lawmen on this train will keep us safe. I saw a Marshall in the next car."

"Ha!" Barked Heyes. He murmured under his breath as he moved to position the little black men on the board, "As if the law ever helped me. They don't know what the threat is and you know full well why I can't tell them anything other than that those boys don't like us. And if somebody catches the T-Ds it could be worse."

"Worse?" Asked Charlie as Beth read a book about the history of the West.

"If they say why they're after the Kid and me, if they give away the wrong thing." Heyes deep, quiet voice trailed off ominously.

The professor nodded. "Not good."

"Deadly, maybe, for Jed at least."

"Well, let's talk math, then. You need to keep your mind on your work," Professor Homer argued. His former student nodded. "Did you see that new article Bernard of Oxford published?"

"Yeah. Or no. What's it about?" The new graduate didn't sound very interested.

"Joshua, you aren't listening." Homer didn't sound angry.

"Yeah, I am listening. Just not to you. Charlie, somebody wants to kill me and they might get you and Beth and the baby while they're at it. The only ballistics I care much about right now is this." Heyes patted the loaded pistol at his hip.

The older man nodded. "I understand. I've been there, though I wasn't married at the time and I sure didn't have a baby on the way. But I did have a girl."

"Tell me about it, Charlie," said Heyes, looking more interested. He had heard very little about this part of his former advisor's life.

Charlie laughed. "Oh, you don't really want to know. I wasn't in your league. Just a garden variety trouble-making boy."

Slowly, the former outlaw wheedled the story out of his friend, provoking laughter on both sides. Charlie pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket. He and Heyes started a game of hearts. The former outlaw seemed totally involved with the game and the stories he and his former advisor were telling. But still, when a dusty, unshaven young man with a gun at his hip walked down the train aisle, Hannibal Heyes unobtrusively tracked the stranger's every step until he left the car. The partner of the man who had killed the elder Teasdale brothers fretted that he didn't know what the younger Teasdale brothers looked like; he had never seen them.

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In the wee hours of the morning, the sheriff firmly convinced the last drunks to vacate Christy's Place. Mr. and Mrs. Curry put down fresh water for the hotel cat, checked the locks on the doors and windows, and damped down the fires. It was time for bed after a long, tiring day. The paired retired to the room on the first floor where they had a bedroom and small office set up while Curry had a hard time climbing stairs.

The Kid sat on the side of the bed and patted his lap. He was inviting his wife, who sat in a chair opposite him, to put her foot up so he could undo her shoes buttons and draw off her stocking. Then he did her other leg. They both stood up so he could unbutton the back of her dress and help her get her under things off. He looked with satisfaction at her smooth, round belly.

He said. "That baby is coming along fine, looks like."

"Yes, it does seem like," replied Cat as her husband took off his gun belt and hung it over the bed stead where he could reach it easily. He sat down and pulled off his one sweaty boot, which required a fair bit of contortion for a man in a leg cast; but he wasn't going to ask Cat to bend down and help.

Cat Curry watched him and sighed. "It's been quite the day. Between looking after the saloon and the hotel we've got, getting all the folks lined up to move our own stuff to the house and our business stuff to the Ross Hotel – if the loan comes through. I keep having to tell contractors how much of a hurry we'll be in, but not letting 'em get going until we get word about that loan."

"Yeah, it's a right old pain," Curry agreed. "And then we'll have Heyes and Beth to move in, and maybe that boy they want to foster. And then a baby, and another one, later. It's about like the biggest Heyes plan we ever did, in the old days."

Cat looked boldly into his blue eyes. "Jed, why'd you have to shoot that gunman the way you did? You must have been a lot like that at his age."

"No. I was never that stupid," the Kid shot back at his wife as he unbuttoned his blue shirt.

"Jed . . ." She prodded again

The sheriff rolled his eyes. "I was mad at him, alright? He threatened me and Heyes, and that means you and Beth, too. I couldn't let him hurt you. And he's hurt a lot of folks. No way was he gonna stop that till somebody made him stop."

"And that somebody had to be you?" Cat Curry was aggrieved

The Kid growled irritably as he wriggled out of his pants. "Yeah. It's my job. He was in town to kill. He drew on me. I heard he was fast. Hey, at least I didn't kill him. I could have, easy."

Cat kept her voice calm. "I know. But I just want to be sure you think about it when you use that Colt, now. A sheriff isn't like an outlaw on the run. It's his job to do right."

"You think I don't know that? Wilde and I used to talk about it a bunch. He got me ready. And I was. I am." The notorious gunman by now was wearing nothing but his cast and his underwear.

Cat Curry kissed her husband, sighed and blew out the lamp.

In the morning, the Kid was back at the doctor's office early and still yawning after his usual late night. He was wearing a good suit and his badge. His Colt looked incongruous on his hip. "Doc, how is he?"

Doctor Grauer, who had answered the door in his shirt sleeves, was still tying his string tie. "The heat in the finger's down. The stitches look good. He can move it a little. It hurts him, but he can do it. Give him a day or two and he'll be able to travel, I think."

The doctor watched his friend and patient closely as he nodded. The sheriff said, "Good. Can I see him?"

The elderly doctor ran a hand through his thin, grey hair. "Honestly, Jed, I'd rather you didn't. Last time you came, it took me hours to settle him down. He needs to rest, and it isn't easy to get a young guy like that to take it slow."

"Alright. I'll be back tomorrow." The doctor could see the sheriff sigh with relief. He dreaded seeing the wounded criminal as much as the notorious Green River Kid hated to see the far more famous Kid Curry. "Speaking of youngsters, how's that new doc, Steadman, working out?"

The doctor was watching the sheriff's leg more than his face. "Fine. He's a real go-getter. He's off delivering a baby in the mountains. Has been out since about three this morning. It's great to have a youngster around to take on some of it. Like you with your deputies. Jed, let me look at that leg, will you?" The elderly doctor added.

"Why?" Curry was uneasy as he settled on a chair to let the doctor examine him.

"So I can get that cast off. It's time," The doctor said.

"Great!" For the first time that morning the sheriff smiled. But then he looked serious again. "How long will it take?"

The doctor thought for a moment. "Oh, maybe an hour, all in all. I'll have to go slowly. And you'll need some instructions on how to look after the leg and use a cane. It'll be a while before you can really get back to normal. Maybe you ought to get Cat in here to hear about it, too."

The sheriff pulled out his gold pocket watch. "Yeah, but I don't have an hour right now. And if you'll be sawing, I don't want to mess up my good suit. Would you have time to work on me later? I got to go over to the bank, now."

The doctor looked at his calendar. "I thought you must be dressed up for something. If some emergency doesn't get in the way, I can see you at 1:00. But you know how it is."

Curry nodded. "Yeah. Both our jobs are like that. Chancy. I'll ask the boys to watch the office after lunch."

The doctor put his hand on Curry's shoulder. "See you at 1:00, Jed. If you aren't off arresting somebody or I don't have an emergency. And bring Cat. I need to see her again anyhow, to make sure the baby's coming along well."

"Thanks, Doc."

Curry went back to Christy's a Place, just next door, on his crutches. He picked up a paper-filled valise from Christy's Place, then hurried down to the first Louisville Bank. He stopped outside the door of the brick bank building with its white wooden classical columns. The sheriff took a deep breath. Then he walked in. He had few hopes that Mr. Cobb would do anything but insult him, but the sheriff had to try for his loan.

Curry looked around the bank's front room appraisingly, remembering all the times he had cased banks. The oil portrait of Mr. Cobb on the opposite wall seemed to look angrily at him. He felts a bead of sweat run down his back, though his poker face hid his tension from those around him as he anticipated a hostile reaction. He was glad to find no one in line and only a couple of clerks on duty. If Banker Cobb said something nasty, there would be few to hear it. But he didn't see Cobb anywhere except his visage hanging on the wall, yet. He supposed the bank-robber-hating banker was in his office and would come out later to attack the former outlaw.

A pale, skinny clerk in pince nez come out from behind the counter with its protective bars and walked up to Curry. He said, "Good morning, sheriff. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Mr. Fisk. I'd like to speak to somebody about getting a loan." Jedediah Curry spoke with deceptive calm.

"Oh?" The little man smiled warmly at the sheriff, well aware that Curry's actions had recently saved the bank from being robbed. "Come with me to an office where we can speak in private."

Jed followed the clerk into a little office with a bright chromolithographed calendar on the wall.

The clerk sat down behind the desk and picked up a pencil that he held poised over a pad of paper. "Now, is this loan to be for your office, your business, or your private use?"

Curry pulled some papers out of his valise and put them on the desk in front of him. "Our business. We want to sell Christy's Place and buy Ross's Hotel."

"I see." Fisk began taking notes. "What amount do you want to borrow?"

"$5,000. And I need to have it settled by Friday, if possible. We have some cash of our own, and we should have the first payment on the sale of our hotel by then, but it will cover only part of what we need to pay out on Ross's place. So we need the loan to tide us over for the rest of the amount on the Ross Hotel until our purchasers finish paying off. And to cover starting up stuff."

"I see," sad the bank clerk slowly, taking all this down. "Do you have collateral?"

Curry put his stack of papers in front of Mr. Fisk. "Yes – we'll have the title to Christy's Place until the guys buying it have paid us what they owe – that's Joe and Ted, as I guess you know. And we have eight acres with a new house and stable just built on it on the edge of town. It's a real pretty spot. And we got a few horses, wagons, and stuff like that. And the hotel and saloon stock. You know about our bank account here, of course. Here – I've got it all written up on these papers."

"I see," said Fisk, leafing through the documents with a critical eye. "Very good. Do you have any, um, documents in support of, um, your character, your dependability? I hate to ask, but of course, you do see?"

"Sure," said Curry. "We've got letters from Sheriff Wilde, the mayor, the governor of Colorado, the Governor of Wyoming, and a senator from Wyoming – all backing us up. And the amnesty and pardon documents from four governors and the president of the United States."

Mr. Fisk examined all of this carefully through his glasses. "Yes, I see. Yes, this all appears to be in excellent order. Yes, excellent order. If only all our borrowers were so well prepared, I would be grateful. If you can please fill out this form and sign it, then I should be able to get back to you, oh, tomorrow I should think, with details of the terms."

"So you think the bank will really lend us the money?" Jed tried not to sound surprised. But the last time he had asked for a loan, he and his partner had nearly been laughed out of the banker's office. The amnesty had changed everything.

Mr. Fisk seemed to think this was all routine. "I don't blame you for worrying, Sheriff. I know how Mr. Cobb feels about anyone who ever robbed a bank. I can't promise anything, of course, without reading every word of your documentation and speaking to my superiors. Mr. Cobb is away for the week, but his partner, Mr. Long, is here. I would see no reason for your request to be denied." A frank look passed between the two men. Jed gathered that Mr. Long was the better man for him to deal with. "Your collateral is excellent. Your, um, past, should not be a barrier, in light of such excellent men speaking on your behalf. And your reputation, and your wife's, of course, in this town – well, I see no barriers."

Feeling relieved at what he had been told and what he had inferred, Curry explained, "I ain't coming to you because of that robbery we stopped, I gotta say. Those boys just happened to make that try when Ross's place is up for sale, and he wants to sell quick. And that hotel is just what we want, to go over to a straight hotel. We got a baby on the way and we want to raise him up right. Or her." Jed hoped he wouldn't mess things up with his honesty. He completed the form and signed it as the clerk waited.

Fisk smiled. "It sounds a fine plan. And the robbery, of course, was pure coincidence. Mr. Long and I, I suspect, are in agreement that we could never hold that against you. Now, how should I contact you tomorrow about a time for you to come and sign papers?"

Curry looked into the bank clerk's eyes and saw only good will. Now if only Cobb's partner really was kindly disposed to ex-outlaws who now worked for the law. Jed said, "You can come see me at the sheriff's office, or leave a message. I might be out on duty, but I'll come back."

"Sheriff Curry, I sincerely hope you always come back safely," said Fisk with a glow in his pale grey eyes, "to your family, and to our town's citizens. We depend upon you. You have never yet let us down." He stood and reached out his hand. Jed took the little clerk's hand and shook it heartily.

The outlaw-turned sheriff limped down the street in a silent state of wonder. He was pondering the heart-felt words of the humble bank clerk. Curry had expected doubt and hostility; he had found respect for himself and hope for his family's future. He supposed his deputies, and his orders to them, might have saves Fisk's life.

"I tell you, Cat," said Jed Curry as he changed out of his good suit and into his working clothes, "we couldn't have had better luck in a hundred years. Fisk sees no barrier, he says. No barrier! I'm pretty sure he means that Mr. Long would be glad to rush this through before his partner gets back in town, and Mr. Fisk's on his side. Don't that beat all?"

"It surely does! If only Long comes through," said Mrs. Curry, picking up a pencil from her husband's desk and drawing a star on the wall calendar's square for the following day.

"Yeah, I know," said the Kid, "no promises to us yet."

After eating lunch, Jed Curry headed for his office. "Al," he said to his blond deputy, "watch the desk. I'm gonna head down to the Doctor in a bit. He's gonna saw off my cast."

"Wow, boss, that's great," said Al Kelly, smiling broadly. "When do you think you'll be able to ride and stuff?"

"Not right away. I'll find out from the doc. So you guys will have to keep doing most of the patrols for a while. I don't know if I'll be able to get back to the office today."

By the time Jed Curry made his way to the doctor's office, his wife was already there. He could hear her voice from the next room. Doctor Steadman invited him from the waiting room into the office. "That's good to hear," Cat was saying to the doctor. "Since I haven't been pregnant before, I never know what's normal and what isn't, if you aren't around to tell me."

"Hello, honey, Doc. So the news is good on the baby?" asked Jed as he settled in a leather-upholstered chair.

"Good afternoon, Jed," said the doctor. "Yes, your son or daughter seems very well. Your wife certainly is thriving. Are you ready for this?" He held out a battered wooden cane.

"You bet, Doc!" said Curry.

"Good, then help me get your pants off. I don't want to cut them up with my saw or get plaster all over them." When the patient was down to his drawers, the doctor got right to work, carefully sawing away the cast.

Jed and Cat stared in surprise at the leg that emerged from the dirty plaster cast. It was thin and white with scaly skin.

The doctor told them, "The muscles have atrophied some, not having moved for a month. That leg is going to be very stiff for a while. You'll have to go slowly, working it back into shape. And be careful with the skin - it'll be delicate after all this time not touched. I've got some water warming. Let me get it and show you how to bathe the leg. A lot of dirt and skin is going to come off at first, but don't scrub hard. Be very gentle and clean it every day. Eventually, the skin will get back to normal."

Doctor Grauer showed Cat and her husband how to soak and carefully wash the pale, weak leg and pat it dry. They put the sheriff's pants back on, and the shoe and sock Cat had brought for the injured leg. "Now, let me show you how to use that cane so it takes pressure off the weak leg," said the doctor, bringing the stick to his patient. It took a few tries for Curry to get the gait right, bringing the cane forward at the same time as his healing leg. He finally began to get the hang of limping heavily and leaning on the cane.

When all the instruction was past, Jed and Cat walked slowly the short distance back to Christy's Place. Jed leaned on the cane with one arm and put the other proudly around his pregnant wife's shoulders. It felt good to walk together again.

As they passed, they both looked far down the street to the bank, with its dignified columns and the bars on the windows. The next day, they would find out if the loan came through. After all the troubles Heyes had had that summer with getting people with money to trust him, the Curries hardly dared to hope that they would get their loan on the first try. And yet, they did hope.