Hannibal Heyes sat looking absently at the five cars in his hand. Usually a very focused poker player, Heyes couldn't shake the dark, edgy feeling that had been festering in him for a couple of days. Worse yet, he couldn't pinpoint a cause. His eyes moved to the bar where his partner stood nursing his second beer. Nothing seemed amiss. Heyes gave his head a slight jerk, trying to brush the feeling away and focus on his cards.

"Fold," Heyes said, tossing his hand on the table and shoving his chair back. "Think I'll take a break," he said and joined Kid at the bar.

"You quitting already? It's early."

"Might as well quit while I'm still a little ahead," Heyes replied as he raised two fingers in the air to let the bartender know he wanted a beer.

As Heyes picked up his beer and turned his back to the bar, Kid gave him an absent glance. Two furled brows caused Kid notice and he took a longer second look.

"Something bothering you, Joshua?"

"No, just a feeling."

"Good or bad?"

"Doesn't feel good, but I don't know what it's about."

"I know that feeling. Happens every time I see a man wearing a badge."

Heyes smiled but shook his head. "Na, it ain't anything like that, Kid. It ain't a bad feeling about us. It's more, sort of an ….ominous feeling."

"What's ominous mean? Got something to do with an omen?"

"That's right. Like something bad is hovering around, just waiting to make it's presence known. "

"Something here? In this town?"

Heyes shrugged. "I don't know, Kid."

"Well Heyes... I ain't loosing sleep over your bad feeling. You coming?" Kid asked as he started for the doors.

Heyes quickly took the last gulp of his beer and set the mug on the bar. "Right behind you, Kid."

The following morning, Heyes and Curry sat at a table in the hotel dining room eating breakfast. Well, Kid sat eating breakfast. Heyes had pushed his chair out and sat with one leg crossed over the other, a cup of coffee in one hand, the local newspaper in the other.

"Uh-oh," Heyes said.

"What?"

"Listen to this. Following the bungled robbery in Bakersfield, a posse comprised of local citizens and lead by Sheriff Rory Calver, was able to subdue and arrest two of the alleged robbers. Terrence Whittenhouse and Wheat Carson, a former member of the Devil's Hole gang, are currently incarcerated in the Bakersfield jail. Carlson is believed to have shot City Bank President Therman Westgrove who remains in guarded condition at his home in Bakersfield. It is believed two additional robbers escaped. One was described as five feet, six inches tall with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. The second was described at six feet tall, dark hair and a large scare on the left side of his face. Both men are considered armed and dangerous."

"How old is the newspaper?" Kid asked

Heyes turned to the front page. "Three days old."

"The little blonde guy sounds a lot like Kyle."

"Uh-uh."

"Maybe that robbery is your ominous feeling, Heyes."

Heyes nodded and folded the newspaper and tucked in inside his vest. "Bakersfield is about a day and a half ride from here."

"You mean we're going to Bakersfield?"

"I think we should, Kid. Wheat was sometimes a little proddy, but when push came to shove, he always knew where his loyalties lay. We've never known him to shoot a man, might have threatened to now and again, but he never actually went through with it."

"Wonder who this other fellow is, this Whittenhouse,"

"There's likely several new Devil's Hole men now that we've never met. He's probably just one of them."

"You know, Heyes, Wheat ain't one to catch on to the use of subtlety. You go walking into that jail and he's likely to shout out 'Hannibal Heyes, what are you doing here?'"

"Keep your voice down. You don't sound too subtle yourself, Kid."

Kid glanced around and saw that no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. He took his last gulp of coffee and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Just saying, Heyes, going to have to be careful."

Heyes nodded. "You know, I don't mind saying I've always been kind of fond of Wheat."

Kid's eyebrows raised. "Why?"

"Well, like I said, he was loyal, and he was the only one who stepped up when you and me left. If it weren't for Wheat, there might not even be a Devil's Hols gang anymore."

"So?"

"So, I just like to see the tradition live on."

Kid sighed. "I know I'm going to regret asking, but when are we leaving for Bakersfield?"

Heyes smiled. "Soon as we pack our bags."

A day and a half later, Kid and Heyes rode leisurely into the town of Bakersfield, a small, depreciating town comprised of a dozen wooden structures bordering a dirt path wide enough to be called a street. More than half of the buildings sat empty and all were in dire need of a whitewash or paint. They rode their horses slowly, scanning the signs for the Sheriff's Office, saloon, bank, and hotel. Bringing their horses to a stop in front of the hitching post outside of the saloon, they dismounted, tethered the reins, and pushed open the batwing doors. As was their custom, they walked to the far end of the bar and ordered two beers.

"Looks like this town has seen better days," Heyes said to the bartender who brought them their beers.

"Like most mining towns, begins to die when the mines run dry."

"What kind of mining was it?" Heyes asked.

"Silver, but the veins disappeared after a couple of years."

"Why do folks stay?"

"Takes money to leave."

"Ah. Read about a little excitement in this town a few days ago. Somebody tried to rob the bank," Kid interjected.

"That's right. Didn't take a great mind to come up with that plan. Pretty plain to see this town ain't got no sizable cash pile."

"Anybody know who done it?" Heyes asked.

"Sheriff's got a couple of them in the jail now. At least one of them used to ride with the Devil's Hole gang."

"You don't say."

"Sheriff's worried that gang might come down here and try to bust him out. Don't think the sheriff could give them much of an argument if they did."

"Why's that?"

"Don't think too many folks in town are willing to risk getting hurt or killed over the likes of what's turned out to be a couple of petty thieves."

"Petty thieves, uh," Kid said.

"Well, they didn't get nothing from this bank. Hell, on a Saturday night this saloon probably has more money than all of that bank does on any given day."

Heyes laughed. "That would make them petty thieves alright... Could we have another beer?"

"I think I read the bank president was shot. How's he doing?" Heyes asked.

"That's Therm Westgrove. It was touch and go for a while, but Doc says he's doing much better now."

"And they think this Carlson guy shot him?" Kid asked.

"That's right."

"What does Carlson say about that?" Heyes asked.

"You'll have to ask the sheriff that. For strangers, you two seem pretty interested in this."

Heyes shrugged. "Not much else to talk about in this town, is there?"

The bartender nodded. "Suppose not."

Heyes and Kid picked up their fresh beers and made their way to a table.

"Let's scout around the back of the jail," Heyes said in a low whisper. "If there's a window, we can slip Wheat a note telling him to keep quiet when when one of us walks in."

"One of us? Heyes why do I get the feeling you're suggesting it not be you who walks into the jail?"

"Suppose the sheriff recognizes whichever one of us walks in there? It's almost guaranteed you can outdraw him."

"Almost."

"And if that were to happen, and you have your gun pulled, you can just bust Wheat out."

"Heyes, that is not exactly a good plan. In fact, it's worse than any plan I'd come up with. It's even worse than any plan Wheat would come up with."

Heyes tapped his foot nervously on the floor. "You're right. If the sheriff knows Wheat is part of the Devil's Hole gang, he's probably familiar with our descriptions... Okay, plan B..."

The smile that formed at the corners of Heyes' mouth and spread across his face was one of pure deviousness. "Come one, Kid. Let's get a hotel room and figure out the details to Plan B."

"So what's plan B?" Kid asked inside their hotel room.

"Well, before we even think about how to help Wheat, I think we'd better find out who actually shot this Westgrove fella."

"How do we do that?"

"Have to talk to Westgrove, I suppose" Heyes replied.

"So I repeat my question, how do we do that?"

"Maybe we could deliver a package or some urgent message...maybe pose as a reporter, or a lawyer or something to get one of us inside the house."

"One of use being you, right?"

Heyes nodded absently, his thinking focused on a plan of entry.

"And then what?"

"That depends on what he tells us. Devil's Hole is a half a days ride. You want to see if you can find Kyle?

"It's been a long time, Heyes. You think they're gonna let me in?"

Heyes raised his shoulders questioningly. "Only one way to find out."

Kid started out early for Devil's Hole, hoping to make it back to Bakersfield the same day.

Shortly before noon, Hannibal Heyes stood at the front door of Therman Westgrove's home. Dressed in his brown suit, Heyes carried two notepads that he had purchased at the mercantile. He knocked on the door and waited.

"May I help you," a young man of perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age asked from inside the screen door.

"My name in Joshua Smith. I am the assistant to the assisted District Attorney and am here to ask Mr. Westgrove a few questions, if he is up to it, of course."

"The Assistant District Attorney was just here yesterday," the young man replied.

"That's correct, young man. On his return to the office he discovered he had failed to ascertain some minor details about the shooting. He is scheduled to be in court most of the day today and asked if I would mind making this visit myself."

The young man nodded but did not usher Heyes into the home. "Just a moment please. I'll see if my father is feeling up to another visit."

Heyes waited impatiently, although tried his best to give a patient appearance. Finally the young man returned and opened the door for Heyes to enter. The young man lead Heyes to the library where Westgrove was seated in a large over-stuffed chair with a blanket wrapped about him. His feet rested on an ottoman that matched the chair.

"Father, this is Mr. Smith with the District Attorney's office."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Westgrove and so nice to see you're recovering so quickly."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Smith?"

Heyes pulled a pencil from his vest pocket. "Just a few questions, sir."

"Very well. Proceed."

"Did you actually see the person who shot you, Mr. Westgrove?"

"He was scruffy looking, tall, light brown hair, thin and just a shade under six feet tall."

"Did you notice the type of gun he was using, the make of the gun?"

"It looked like a Smith and Wesson."

"And you actually saw the man you described firing it?"

Westgrove nodded. "I had just stood up from my desk, just as the robbers entered the bank."

"And where was the shooter standing?"

"Why just inside the door."

"How many men entered the bank?"

"Three."

"So one was just inside the door. Where were the other two?"

"One approached the teller's window. The other stood by the front window looking out. He occasionally turned to look at the one by the tellers window."

"The one looking outside, what did he look like?"

"He was the shorter of the three. He was chewing a wad of tobacco and at one point, walked over to the spittoon and spit tobacco juice into it."

"Did any of the robbers say anything?"

"The one by the teller's window said something like 'everybody stay calm, this is a stick up."

"A stick up? Not a hold up?"

"No, no, he said a stick up."

"Was he pointing a gun or holding a gun?"

"No. The other two both had guns drawn, but not the man at the teller's window."

"Thank you Mr. Westgrove. I think you've answered all the questions I was supposed to ask."

"My son will see you out, Mr. Smith."

Kid Curry stopped at the first checkpoint leading into Devil's Hole and fired three shots into the air and waited for a response.

"Who goes there?" came an unfamiliar voice from a nondescript area of thick foliage high above from where Kid waited."

"Kid Curry to see Kyle Murtry," Kid shouted in return.

"How am I to know you're really Kid Curry?"

"Well, you could come down here and try to outdraw me, or you could ask Kyle to come see for himself."

"Wait there."

Kid waited almost half an hour for Kyle to arrive and identify him.

"What brings you to the Hole, Kid?" Kyle shouted from the lookout point.

"Came to talk to you, Kyle... about Wheat"

"Wheat okay?"

"I haven't seen him. But I know he's in the jail at Bakersfield."

"You planning on helping him get out?"

"Kyle, I'd rather not shout the entire conversation, if you don't mind."

"Okay, Kid, you can ride in."

"I'd prefer not riding right into the compound, Kyle. Don't know what kind of reception I'd be getting."

"I see your point, Kid. Not too many left that know you. I'll meet you at the second check point."

Kid nodded and spurred his horse along the barely visible path.

Kid was off his horse and pacing when Kyle arrived at the second check point. Kyle, always an amicable fellow, was smiling as he dismounted.

"Good to see you, Kid."

"You, too Kyle," Kid said, his eyes carefully scanning the woods around him. "We being watched?"

Kyle nodded.

"What did you want to see me about, Kid?"

"Were you part of that robbery attempt in Bakersfield?"

Kyle chewed his wad of tobacco. "What about it?"

"Who shot the bank president, Kyle? It's important.

"Kid, I can't tell you that, you know that."

"Then at least tell me if Wheat was the one who shot the guy."

Kyle shook his head. "Wheat was at the teller's window. You know that man never holds a weapon. Don't want to over intimidate the teller."

"Kyle. Wheat's being accused of the shooting."

"He didn't do it, Kid. I swear."

"Did you, Kyle?"

"Of course not, Kid. I ain't never shot anyone."

"Then it was one of the new guys?"

Kyle didn't answer, which means he didn't deny Kid's theory.

"We know one of the other two was Whittenhouse. Was he inside the bank or outside with the horses."

Kyle didn't answer.

"Was Whittenhouse outside with the horses?"

Kyle nodded.

"Kyle, I need to know the name of the other man that was inside the bank. Heyes and me can't clear Wheat unless we know."

Kyle turned his head slightly, turned his eyes even more to let Kid know there were others nearby and he couldn't answer Kid's question.

"Kyle, it's Wheat we're talking about," Kid said very quietly.

"Sorry, Kid."

Kid dropped his head toward his chin and sighed heavily.

"We done, Kid?"

"Yea Kyle, we're done."

"Let me walk you to your horse."

Kyle held on to the harness so the horse's head and neck blocked him from view.

"Brooker," Kyle whispered.

Kid showed no sign of any communication. When he was mounted, he tipped his hat to Kyle and rode off."

"I know who shot Westgrove," Kid said as he lay stretched out on his belly across his hotel bed.

Heyes closed the book he had been reading and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. "Who?"

"Somebody named Brooker. Kyle didn't give me a first name."

"Ever heard of an outlaw named Brooker?" Heyes asked.

"Nope."

"Well we can't just walk into the jail and ask the sheriff..."

"How about Lom?"

"Good idea. We'll send him a telegram in the morning."

"Kyle says Wheat was at the teller's window."

"So he didn't have his gun drawn."

"Yep."

"Westgrove says the man who shot him had door duty. So that would be Brooker.

"Whittenhouse was outside with the horses. Kyle had window duty."

"So that accounts for everybody."

"If Lom can identify Brooker, and there is a poster out on Brooker, then the sheriff will know by the wanted posters that Brooker matches Westgrove's description of the shooter, and not Wheat," Kid said.

"Wait...What?" Heyes said, having trouble following Kid's explanation.

"If there's a wanted poster on Brooker, the description should match the description that Westgrove gave of the shooter. Got it?"

"Don't be proddy, Kid. Now, if Lom can identify Brooker, the question then becomes how do we inform the sheriff of all this without him finding out who we are?"

"Heyes, this is a two bit town. Why can't we just walk into the sheriff's office like we walked into Lom's office when we went asking about amnesty? A simple slice of the telegraph line would give us time to get out of town. The bartender even said no one in town is willing to join a posse."

"Let's just find out about Brooker from Lom tomorrow and go from there."

Having sent the telegram to Lom, Heyes and Curry received an answer less than an hour later. Heyes read the telegram and laughed.

"What's it say? What's so funny, Heyes?" Kid asked.

"Percy. Brooker's name is Percy."

"Percy Brooker?" Kid said, grinning. "Outlaw Percy Brooker?"

"That's right."

"He's got to have a nick name. No respectable outlaw goes by the name Percy."

"If he does, it ain't listed here. He probably just goes by Brooker."

"That is funny, Heyes...Percy."

"Kid?"

"Yea?"

"How do we want to tell the sheriff?"

"It worked before, when we first went to Lom..."

"But, there wasn't a prisoner ready to identify me by name when I walked in."

"So, let's just do it in reverse. "I'll go in the back door first, take the sheriff's gun. Then you come in. We'll tell him what we know, and maybe put him in an empty cell to give us time to ride off."

"Wheat's gonna be pretty mad when we leave without him."

"Not if you explain to him that we just saved him from an attempted murder charge."

Heyes sighed. Okay, let's go."

Sheriff Calver, a short and portly man with a mustache disproportionate to his face, was sitting at his desk completing paperwork when he heard the sound of Kid's gun being cocked. He turned his head slowly to his right and his widening eyes revealed his recognition of the man pointing the gun at him.

"That's right, sheriff. Now pull your gun from your holster and slide it over here."

The sheriff did as he was told.

"Now do the same with the gun hidden in the desk drawer."

Kid had guessed correctly and the sheriff pulled the gun and slid it across the floor.

"Kid? Is that you?" Wheat shouted, his view of Kid blocked by the layout of the cells.

"Yea, it's me, Wheat."

"You gonna bust me out?"

"Sorry Wheat, not what we're here for."

"Heyes here with you?"

With that the front door opened and Hannibal Heyes walked in with an air of confidence.

"Sheriff Calver?" Heyes said as he stood directly in front of the sheriff's desk.

Sheriff Calver nodded, but still assuming Heyes and Curry were there to break the prisoners out of jail, he said nothing.

"I'm Hannibal Heyes and you've already met Kid Curry. We're pleased to meet you."

"What do you want?" Calver asked.

"Well, we think you have some misinformation about the bank robbery and we've come to clear that up for you."

"What misinformation?"

"About who actually shot Therman Westgrove."

"Wheat Carlson," Calver said.

"No, no, you see Wheat was at the teller's window. That person never holds a gun during a robbery. No, it was the doorman who shot Westgrove."

"And who was the doorman?" Calver asked.

"Heyes, you sure you know what you're doing?" Wheat called to Heyes. "Not going to go over too well at the Hole if you start giving out names," Wheat cautioned.

"It's alright, Wheat. Heyes ain't gonna tell the sheriff Brooker's name," Kid called out.

"Well in that case...Wait, KID!" Wheat shouted when he realized Kid had said Brooker's name.

Kid looked at the sheriff and shrugged. "You might have heard that I'm a pretty fast draw. Heyes and me figure I can likely outdraw someone by the name of Percy," Kid explained.

"Check your posters, sheriff, then talk to Westgrove again. You'll get it all straightened out," Heyes said with a smug smile on his face.

"You two ain't busting them boys out?"

"Well they way we see it, they didn't get nothing in the robbery, so really nothing was robbed. They can't get two hard of a sentence for not robbing a bank, right?"

"There's such a thing as attempted robbery," Calver said.

"How much time that that carry?" Kid asked

"Five to ten."

Kid's eyes grew wide as he looked at Heyes with a now what do we do expression. Heyes looked dumbfounded and merely shrugged at his partner.

"Look, sheriff, my partner and I just gave you some valuable information. We just told you how you can verify that information. The least you can do is work with us here," Heyes said, knowing he had made a very feeble argument. He could see Kid just shaking his head.

"Rumors are true then. You two really are going straight, aren't you?" Calver asked.

"Which is what puts us in this dilemma, Sheriff," Kid said.

"I ain't heard nothing about the two of you in...three years. You've been working at it that long."

"Yea," Heyes said, nodding his head.

"You two going straight has saved law enforcement, banks, trains a lot of time and trouble. Coming here today, in broad daylight, took a lot of courage. Now I ain't gonna tell you that my cell keys might drop pretty close to that cell when I'm serving them boys supper tonight. Then again, I'm not going to tell you they ain't. You two are just going to have a little faith in the justice system."

Heyes smiled appreciatively. "Oh I do have faith in the justice system, sheriff, especially in this town. Now my partner and I are going to leave," Heyes said as he started to walk toward Kid.

"Wheat, you take care," Heyes called to his friend.

"Heyes!... Heyes!... You just leaving me here?" Wheat shouted, having not grasped the conversation he had just heard.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way out of this," Heyes shouted just before he and Kid slipped out the back door, mounted their horses, and galloped out of town.

"Damn it Heyes!... I'll get you for this!" they heard Wheat's voice growing more and more distant as they rode away.