Levi

by Kathy Knudsen1

No word from Kid in over three months, but just who is this man known as Levi who has taken up residence in the grungy alleys of San Francisco's Skid Row

The telegram from Lom was short and to the point: may have been spotted in San Francisco three weeks ago.

Hannibal Heyes read, then reread the telegram, the word may jumping out at him each time. In the past three months, Heyes had followed at least a half a dozen such wild goose chases in search of his partner, and all to no avail.

Three months ago while escaping a posse in eastern Wyoming, Heyes and Curry had decided to split up, each swinging back around in a wide sweep in opposite directions, then meeting up later in Denver.

But Kid Curry never arrived.

"Would you like to send a reply?' the telegrapher asked, breaking Heyes' concentration.

"No, but I want to send a telegram to San Francisco, a Mister Jonathan Saunders. Write 'Jed missing. May be in S.F. Will be arriving soon. Please check with any resources you might have. Joshua Smith."

0-0-0-0-0-0

A man with a light brown, scruffy beard, matted dirty blonde hair, and dirt stained clothing shrouded in an equally dirty tan Sherpa, walked slowly down the dark alley toward a small campfire around which several equally dirty and downtrodden men stood warming their hands. He stopped a few yards from the fire, unsure of the impending reception he might receive.

Many of the area transients had seen the aloof man before. He had arrived on San Francisco's Skid Row no more than a month ago. He appeared aloof and no one had spoken to him as he had an intimidating air about him, not a sense of superiority, but a sense of capable self preservation. No one dared cross the silent stranger.

"You want to share the fire mister?" an aged man with stooped shoulders and arthritic hands asked as he tilted his head away from the fire to look at the man who was carefully watching him.

The man standing at a distance gave a single nod of his head, hesitated a moment, then slowly approached the fire and held his hands out to absorb some of the warmth.

"You got a name, fella?" the old man asked.

Tired blue eyes raised and looked at the old man. He opened his mouth to speak but found no words, so he gave his head a single shake.

"Think I'll call you Levi, iffin you don't mind."

The young man shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"So you do talk," the old man said and the expression on his face could almost be called a smile. "My name's Samuel, Samuel Fitzpatrick. You can call me Sam. Where you from, Levi?"

The man hesitated, then shook his head. "I don't know," he said quietly.

The old man reached into his vest pocket and pulled out an old, dented, metal flask that he uncorked and offered to the younger man. "I hate to drink alone."

Again the younger man hesitated, then took the flask and took a large gulp before handing it back. "Thanks... I'll be going now."

"You can sleep here if you want. There's safety in numbers."

The younger man considered this, then shook his head and turned to walk away.

"Come back any time. We ain't proud," the old man called out to him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A week later Heyes arrived at Soapy's doorstep and was ushered in by Soapy's servant.

"Heyes, I've been expecting you. So good to see you, although I wish the circumstances were better."

"Good to see you, too Soapy. Were you able to find out anything?"

"Let's go in the study and have a drink and a bit of privacy," Soapy said and ushered Heyes into the massive study, closing the doors behind them.

Soapy walked behind the bar and poured them each a brandy. Heyes, standing on the other side of the bar, rested his forearms on the counter.

"What did you find out, Soapy?"

"There is a man that vaguely fits The Kid's description living down in the wharf section of town. It's a seedy area Heyes, full of transients, drifters, down-and-outers. It's a dangerous section. Why would Kid be lurking about in that kind of area? He's not gotten himself in more trouble, has he?"

"Not so far as we know. Kid and me split up to confuse a posse a few months back. We were supposed to meet up in Denver but Kid never showed up. We ain't heard nothing since."

"Well no news can be good news..."

"Not in this case. If there was a reason for not coming to Denver, he would have found a way to let me know. I haven't heard one word."

"Might have been arrested or..."

Heyes shook his head. "Lom Trevors, the Sheriff that's helping us with the amnesty, he says there's no reports of the arrest or the death of Kid Curry."

"In that case, perhaps this man in question really is Kid."

"I hope so. I've looked everywhere, followed every lead, and nothing."

"So what do you plan to do now? Would you like me to use my contacts to bring him here?

Heyes shook his head. "Not till we know for sure that the man really is Kid. I'm going to go down there, ask around, see if I can find him..."

"And if you can't?"

"Then maybe we'll use your contacts."

"Heyes, is it possible that Kid wants to distance himself for some reason? Could he want to be traveling incognito?"

"I can't imagine why, Soapy, or he would have at least said goodbye first."

"Yes, this doesn't sound like the Kid I've grown to know."

"I'll start looking tomorrow, and I'll keep looking till I find him. I'd like to bring him back here, Soapy. You know, a safe place to figure out what's going on."

"Of course, Heyes. I wouldn't have it any other way."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Heyes spent sun up to sun down walking the alleys and back streets around the Wharf and inquiring at the halfway houses and day missions; all to no avail. He continued this for a week before finally locating Kid.

It was mid morning, the first day of the second week of his search when Heyes spied a man curled up on the ground near a large trash bin where the nearby restaurants and saloons dumped dead fish and rotting food scraps. Heyes recognized the man by the grungy Sherpa coat that he wore despite the seventy degree temperatures. Heyes could see the man was sleeping and his dirty clothing smelled as bad as the dumpster.

As Heyes approached, at least a half dozen rats quickly fled the trash bin and disappeared down the alley. Heyes crouched down and reached out to touch the man's shoulder. The moment sleepy eyes opened, the man looked at Heyes and pulled defensively away.

"I got nothing," the man said, hoping to ward off a beating for ownership of his jacket, the only thing of value in his possession.

"It's okay, Kid," Heyes tried to assure him. I don't want nothing. I've been looking for you for months. Why didn't you come to Denver, or at least let me know where you were?"

"Who are you?" Kid asked.

The question shocked Heyes and he froze and looked at Kid with concern.

"It's me, Heyes, Kid. I'm here to help."

"My name's Levi and I don't know you, so get away from me," came the reply.

"I tell you what, you let me buy you lunch, a steak and some whiskey and tell you a story about the two of us. If you still want me to leave, I will."

The transient looked at Heyes with doubt and fear in his eyes. Heyes saw no hint of any recognition or trust.

"Just lunch. There's a saloon around the corner," Heyes prodded.

The transient shook his head. "They don't let my kind in there, not in any respectable place."

Heyes smiled at the idea that any business in this area of town could be called respectable. "I promise they'll let you in and they'll give you no trouble while you're there. You look like you could use a good meal," Heyes said, tactfully avoiding the issue of the need for a good hot bath and some clean clothing.

Something in Heyes' calm tone told the man he had nothing to fear and the idea of eating something that was not the wasted leftovers of some stranger's most recent meal pulled from a rat infested trash bin, did appeal to him.

"Alright, I'll listen to you. But I won't promise to believe what you say."

"Fair enough," Heyes said and stood and offered his hand to Kid. But Kid pushed himself back and pressed the palms of his hands against the brick wall to steady himself as he climbed to his feet.

"Come on," Heyes said and started down the alley, releasing a subtle sigh of relied when he heard the footsteps following behind him.

Heyes swung the bat wing doors open wide and entered the saloon with confidence. Kid followed hesitantly behind.

"No indigents," the bartender said boldly.

Heyes smiled. "No problem. Since I just hired this man, he is no longer an indigent. We'll have two steak dinners and a bottle of whiskey. Come on Kid, there's a nice table over in the corner."

Kid kept his eyes downcast and followed Heyes to the table. He slipped into the chair against the wall so as to be as inconspicuous as possible, not realizing the odors emanating from his clothes and body made him anything but inconspicuous.

The bartender arrived with the bottle of whiskey and two glasses and he set them down on the table with a thud. "Three-fifty," he announced.

Heyes calmly pulled a wad of money from his pocket, making it quite obvious to the bartender that money was not a problem. He gave the bartender the exact amount. "Thank you. Oh, and we'd like the steaks medium rare."

The bartender shot Kid a glowering look before retreating back to the bar.

Heyes poured them each a drink and slid one glass across the wooden table. Kid looked at it for a moment, hesitant to accept the gift. But the urge for whiskey to quench his thirst and settle his nerves got the better of him, and he reached out, grasped the shot glass, and downed the drink in one swallow. Heyes maintained a poker face, made no comment, and simply refilled the glass.

"I don't know exactly how to go about this," Heyes began. "I wish you knew what happened to make you lose your memory, but since you don't, I suppose the only thing I can do is tell you who you really are, and how you and I know each other. The fact is, you and me have been partners since we were kids."

"Why did you call me Kid?"

"That's what I've always called you. Your real name is Jedediah Curry. You're from Kansas, and you and me are cousins."

Kid watched and listened carefully to Heyes as he spoke. Nothing Heyes said stirred any recollection.

The bartender returned with the plates of steaks and dropped them on the table. "Two dollars."

Heyes again reached into his pocket and paid the bartender. "We won't be needing anything more," Heyes told him and the bartender turned and walked away, shaking his head.

Heyes turned his attention back to the man sitting across from him and he found Kid still carefully scrutinizing him. "Eat your steak," Heyes encouraged. "You look hungry. Of course as I recall you're always hungry."

Kid made no attempt to argue the statement. Living on Skid Row he was always hungry. He cut a large bite of the stake and shoveled it into his mouth, savoring the fine flavor.

"I've got more to tell you about who we are. Maybe it will help you remember."

"I can eat and listen," Kid replied. "Go ahead and weave your tale."

"Not here. I'd like you to come home with me."

Kid stopped chewing and raised apprehensive looking eyes to the stranger he was sitting with.

"Home?"

"Well, not really home. I'm staying with a friend of ours. Soapy Saunders. Does that ring a bell?

Kid shook his head. He was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable again. He reached for his glass of whiskey and again downed it in one gulp. Heyes again filled his glass.

"We've both known Soapy for a lot of years. He's a kind, old man now, but in his day, he was quite the shyster."

"Shyster?"

"A con man of sorts, but very sophisticated about it. Taught us a con or two in his day."

"You're saying... we're a couple of con men?"

"No not exactly... More like...outlaws."

Kid stopped chewing again and dropped his fork on his plate. "You some kind of lawman or something, trying to shyster me?"

"No. No. Honest, Kid. You can trust me. I'm family."

"Uh-uh. I think I'm done here. Thanks for the meal and the drinks."

"Kid wait. I'd like you to go back to Soapy's with me. I think we can help you to remember what you've lost."

Kid squinted his eyes tight. He was feeling a headache coming on. Headaches were one thing he had become quite accustomed to. He couldn't remember a time not dealing with them.

"Come on, let's go," Heyes said as he picked up the bottle of whiskey and handed it to Kid as a peace offering. "I'm not trying to con you."

Kid took the bottle and followed behind Heyes out into the street. Heyes stood in the warm sunshine a moment and stretched his arms. "Ah, now that was a good steak," Heyes said as he turned back toward Kid.

But Kid had once again disappeared.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kid moved swiftly down several alleys, quickly distancing himself from the man who claimed to be his partner. He carried the half full bottle of whiskey inside his coat to conceal it and prevent himself from being accosted. After distancing himself by several blocks, Kid headed for the alley that Sam laid claim to by squatter's rights.

Kid stopped and ducked behind a dumpster and pulled the whiskey bottle from his coat. He glanced around nervously, then uncorked the bottle and took a long, hard drink, hoping to ease the throbbing pain in his head. After placing the cork back in the bottle, he slipped the whiskey back inside his coat, and continued on his way.

"What's your rush, Levi?" Sam called to him as he almost passed the old man huddled inside a makeshift hut comprised of bits of plywood, orange crates, and tattered blankets.

Kid stopped suddenly and peered inside the hut. "Sam, can I come in? "I brung something to share," he added, opening his coat just far enough to show Sam the bottle.

"Come right in and make yourself at home Levi," Sam replied with a wide smile at the thought of having some fine whiskey.

Kid stooped down and crawled into the small hut. The first thing he did was offer the whiskey to Sam who drank eagerly.

"You look like you seen a ghost, Levi."

Kid took a swig of the whiskey and leaned back against the wall, his knees drawn up in the tiny quarters.

"I met someone this mornin' that claims to know me. Says we're related."

"You recognize him?"

Kid shook his head.

"He buy you this?" Sam asked again chugging the whiskey.

Kid nodded. "And lunch."

"He bring you the lunch or take you in somewhere?"

"In a saloon. Bought me a steak."

Sam smiled remembering the smell and taste of a good steak.

"I've been living on the streets a good many years, and it's been my experience to take what's offered on the street and then get outta there fast. I ain't never had nobody offer to take me in somewhere for a meal... and a bottle."

"He wanted me to go with him."

"Where?"

Kid shrugged. "Said we both have a friend in town. Said maybe the two of them could help me remember."

"This friend got a name?"

"Saunders."

"Hmm. Don't know no Saunders. Knew a Sanders once... I think you was likely wise not to go with him."

Kid nodded. "Me too."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"I met him. I talked to him. I had lunch with him. Then he just up and disappeared."

"He didn't recognize you?" Soapy asked.

Heyes shook his head and sipped the brandy Soapy had given him. "Didn't trust me neither. I invited him back here. I think that scared him off."

"You didn't tell him Nobb Hill, did you?"

"Of course not, Soapy. I wasn't trying to scare him off."

"Do you want me to have him picked up and brought here?"

"By the police?"

Soapy nodded. "A good many of them are on the take. The night officers that work Skid Row receive a monthly stipend from one of the clubs I belong to. We are all at liberty to utilize their services."

Heyes gave this some thought, then slowly nodded his head. "I don't see no other way."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Two days later, in the early hours of the morning, as the sun was just beginning to rise, Kid was awakened by a sharp kick to the sole of his boot. He opened his eyes to the sight of two police officers hovering over him.

"Come on. Let's go," one of them said.

"What's the matter?" Kid asked. "I ain't done nothin'."

"We don't take kindly to vagrants, and sleeping in the street is against the law. Now get up."

Kid pulled himself to his feet and a firm grasp was taken of each of his arms as the two officers ushered him out of the alley to the awaiting police wagon. One of the officers opened the door at the back end of the wagon.

"Get in."

Kid hesitated but climbed into the back of the wagon. As soon as he sat down on the bench and saw the barred windows, a visual flash of cell bars darted through his brain, quickly followed by the recurring sharp pain in his head. He lowered his head and rested it in his hands and closed his eyes, but a kaleidoscope vision of cell bars danced in his head.

Kid sat with his head in his hands for the duration of the ride to what he expected to be the jail. When the wagon finally came to a stop and Kid slowly raised his head, he was shocked to find himself in the carriage drive of the Nobb Hill estate.

"I don't understand," Kid said when the back door was opened and the two officers pulled him roughly from the wagon.

But as they walked up to the house and the front door opened, Kid saw the man he had eaten lunch with, and an older, gentler looking man standing in the doorway. "Now I understand," Kid mumbled.

"This the man you wanted to see Mr. Saunders?" one of the officers asked.

"Yes. Yes indeed. Thank you both," Soapy replied as he and Heyes ushered Kid into the house and quickly shut the door.

Kid's eyes swept the massive foyer. He'd never seen such elegance, such a blatant display of wealth.

"Kid, how nice it is to see you again," Soapy said. "When Heyes told me you were here in San Francisco why, I couldn't believe it. Do come in. I'll see that you get a nice hot breakfast, but first a hot, steaming bath and a change of clothes."

"You're...Soapy?" Kid asked.

Soapy smiled. "Yes, Yes. Do you remember me?"

Kid shook his head.

"Well come," Soapy said, gently taking Kid's arm and leading him to the massive stairway. "There's a hot bath waiting for you."

Kid could easily have laid Soapy flat and escaped, but the old man seemed genuinely gracious and perfectly courteous, and Kid did relish the idea of a hot bath and clean clothes.

Soapy lead Kid to a large water closet with a massive copper tub full of steaming hot water. Several plush towels, washcloths, and soap sat on a small stand next to the tub. Hanging from a peg on the back of the door was a plush terrycloth robe.

"The room, directly across the hall is to be your room. There are clean clothes laid out for you on the bed. Now, I know you could easily climb through any of the windows and steal away from here. I hope you decide not to do that, but neither I nor Heyes will try stop you if you do. Take as much time as you need to relax and enjoy the hot bath. Heyes tells me you are quite fond of them. When you're ready, come downstairs and we'll all have breakfast."

"This Heyes... He said I know you."

Soapy smiled reassuringly. "He's telling you the truth, Kid. Why, you're like a son to me, Heyes is too."

"I don't remember him...or you," Kid said softly.

"We'll see what we can do about that. Now go get cleaned up. You'll feel a hundred percent better. There's a razor and a shaving cup on the wash stand."

Well over an hour later Kid descended the stairs clean shaven and neatly dressed and, except for the near shoulder length hair, resembling the Kid that Heyes and Soapy both knew.

"Splendid," Soapy exclaimed. "Let's go to the dining room. The cook has breakfast waiting."

"I meant to ask you the other day, Kid. What happened to your gun?" Heyes asked noticing Kid had neither a gun nor a holster.

"Um, sold it," Kid said quietly

Heyes felt a pang of embarrassment that he had asked, realizing Kid must have been desperate for food. He decided it was not the time to ask about his absent hat.

Soapy sat at the head of the table while Heyes and Kid each took a side seat facing each other. Kid tried to be polite and eat slowly, but he was ravaged and continued to eat heartily long after Heyes and Soapy had finished. When Kid finally glanced up from his plate and saw that Heyes' and Soapy's plates had been cleared, and they both sat with just cups of coffee in front of them, he reluctantly put his fork down on his plate.

"There's plenty more if you want it, Kid. Don't let us stop you," Soapy said generously.

Kid shook his head. "Thank you. I've had enough," he whispered.

"Well then, let's get down to business and see if we can sort any of this out," Soapy suggested. "Heyes, perhaps you can provide Kid with some history?"

"Well, like I told you the other day, you and me are outlaws. We're Hannibal Heyes and Jedediah Kid Curry. But it ain't as bad as it sounds. We've gone straight. In fact, we've been promised something called an amnesty as long as we can stay out of trouble till the governor thinks we deserve it."

"The governor?"

"Yeah," Heyes said with a smile. "We've got pretty high ranking...acquaintances. Of course Lom Trevors, he's a Sheriff in Porterville, he's sort of the go-between twixt us and the Governor."

"As outlaws... what did we do?"

"We a... we robbed banks and trains. In fact, for a time you and me lead the Devil's Hole Gang."

Kid's eyes grew wide. "What happens if we get caught?"

Heyes looked at Soapy who urged him to continue.

"We a... we go to prison for twenty years. But that ain't gonna happen, cause we ain't gonna get caught," Heyes said, trying to reassure him.

Kid squinted as his head again began to throb. "You got anything stronger than coffee?"

"Brandy, whiskey, rum...?" Soapy asked.

"Whiskey."

Soapy left the table to get Kid a drink.

"You want I should stop, Kid, or you want to hear the rest of it?"

"There's more?"

"Afraid so."

"Why should I believe any of this?"

"Why would I make up a story like this, Kid?"

"I don't like you calling me Kid."

"What do you want me to call you, Levi?" Heyes asked and immediately wished he had not been sarcastic. "You don't mind Soapy calling you Kid."

"He's an old man. You make allowances."

"Look, Jed, something happened to you three months ago that knocked out your memory and we've got to figure out how to fix that."

Soapy returned with the glass of whiskey and Kid thanked him and took a good size drink. "Look, I don't mean to be rude and it's not that I don't believe you or trust you but...but the fact is, this is all a little hard to believe."

"Kid," Soapy said gently. "Tell me the furthest thing back you can remember. Go all the way to your childhood if you can remember anything that far back."

Kid thought for a moment but the pain in his head only magnified. "I can't. I can't remember nothing," he finally declared.

"Don't you want to know those things?" Soapy asked gently. "Memories get to be very important things as you grow older. I know that for a fact."

Kid felt panicked. "I... I better go," he said pushing his chair back and standing. Where's my coat?"

"The Butler took it to have it cleaned.. It should be ready in a couple of days. Just stay that long," Soapy urged him.

Kid shook his head, desperately trying to think what best to do. "No. No. I gotta go."

With that said, Kid headed for the front door, Soapy and Heyes walking right behind him. But as Kid opened the door and stepped outside, Heyes reached out to grab Kid's arm. Soapy quickly grabbed Heyes.

"Let him go, Heyes. He needs time. You can't force him to remember."

Heyes sighed heavily and stood in the doorway and watched Kid till he was out of sight.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kid walked with a slightly shuffled but a hurried gait. The Nobb Hill area was not familiar to him, although it was obviously a place of great wealth. But being in unfamiliar territory made him nervous. He slipped his hands in his pockets and drew his shoulders in tight. He felt something in his right pocket and pulled it out. There were five neatly folded twenty dollar bills. Kid wondered if the money had been put there intentionally or if the pants had belonged to someone else and he might be accused of stealing from the wealthy old man. For an instant he considered returning the money, but that would mean another encounter with the man who claimed to be his partner. So instead he carefully tucked the money back in his pocket and picked up his pace.

It took Kid nearly two hours to get back to the Wharf area of town. He wanted to find Sam, but he decided to make a couple of stops first. Knowing he did not look like a transient at the moment, Kid walked into a men's clothing store and bought two warm but inexpensive jackets. Stepping outside the store he quickly slipped into one of the jackets. Then, carrying his package, he went next to the nearest saloon and bought two bottles of cheap whiskey. His final stop was a neighborhood grocery where he bought a loaf of bread and some slices of cook beef before heading back to the small hut that Sam occupied.

"Sam, it's me, Levi," he said.

Sam poked his head out of the side of his hut and his eyes widened at the sight of the clean shaven and well dressed man.

"Is that really you, Levi? I heard you got picked up this morning."

"I did."

"They usually keep the vagrants overnight, then move 'em to the other side of town the next day. They don't usually spruce you up like that."

"They didn't take me to jail," Kid explained and glanced around nervously. "Can I come in?"

Sam nodded and Kid bent down and crawled into the small shelter.

"I brung you some things," Kid told him and first gave Sam the sack with the jacket.

Sam smiled but looked at Kid with some concern. "You steal this, Levi?"

Kid shook his head. "I got money give to me. I brung you some food too, and a bottle."

"You bought all that too, and yourself some clothes and a jacket? Who would give you that kind of money?"

"The clothes was give to me, from the friend of that man I told you about."

"If you've got such highfalutin friends, what are you doing living down here?"

"I..." Kid stopped. He could feel the pain in his head returning. "I got troubles."

"What kind of troubles?"

Kid uncorked his own bottle and took a swig. "That's just it, I don't know."

"Maybe you'd do well to start at the beginning."

"That's the problem, Sam. I don't know where the beginning is. I can't remember nothing. Heyes, that's the fella that bought me lunch; he says him and me are partners, but I don't know him. He says I up and disappeared three months ago but... I got no recollection of any of that."

"Was you hit in the head?"

Kid shrugged. "If I was I don't remember."

"You remember anything before three months ago?"

Kid shook his head. "When they loaded me into the paddy wagon this morning, I had this vision...something flashed through my head that looked like bars...like maybe I've been in a jail before but...I don't remember ever being in no jail."

Sam sighed heavily and took a swig of his own bottle. "I don't think I'd hand out this kind of advice to anybody but you, Levi, but maybe you ought to go back to that man that says he's your partner. Maybe he is telling you the truth."

"He told me more things... Things that, if they're true, I ain't too proud of."

"All the more reason to think he may be telling you the truth. He ain't painting you a rosy picture."

Kid wrapped the palm of his hand across his forehead and winced as the headache intensified. "What if he ain't telling me the truth?"

"You have anything but good happen to you since you ran into him, except for getting picked up by the police I mean?"

Kid shook his head.

"Maybe you ought to think on that."

"You know, I got some money left, Sam. I could get us a hotel room tonight. You could sleep in a real bed."

Sam laughed. "And give up all this? I got squatter's rights to this spot and I ain't giving it up. I got food, I got drink, and with this jacket I'm warm. I got everything I need, Levi."

Remembering the money might not have been left intentionally for him, Kid sighed and felt a pang of guilt for having spent so much of it.

"I can't risk going back... No, I can't go back there."

"Suit yourself, but I think you might just be making a mistake."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Days passed with no contact from Kid, and Heyes' frustration and worry only mounted. He went down to the Wharf daily but found no trace of Kid. When a week had passed, Soapy offered once again to have Kid picked up and brought to the house.

"He obviously doesn't want to be here, Soapy."

"In his condition, is he even capable of knowing what he wants, Heyes?"

Heyes sighed, feeling at a loss for knowing what to do next. "Alright. Let's give this one more try. Have your men pick him up again."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Kid had moved six blocks from the area where he had been sleeping and spending most of his time and it took the police four days to find him. It was very early in the morning when the two officers approached their sleeping suspect and once again Kid was awakened by a swift kick on the sole of his boot.

"Let's go, Levi. You know the routine."

Kid opened sleepy eyes and looked up at the two officers. "How do you know my name?"

"It's our job to know the names of all the vagrants, or at least know what they're called on the streets.

Kid moved to his knees, then slowly stood up but as he did, he lunged at one of the officers, knocking him off balance. The officer landed with a thud on the pavement, and Kid turned defensively to take on the other officer. The other officer pulled his billy club from his belt and took a forceful swing, but Kid jerked back and the club missed his abdomen. As the officer pulled his club back for another try, Kid lunged, but the man on the ground slid his legs in front of Kid's ankles and Kid tripped and fell.

Both officers were immediately on top of Kid, yanking his hands behind his back and slapping handcuffs on Kid's wrists. Then the two officers stood and yanked Kid to his feet.

"Got a half notion to cart you off to jail," one of the policemen said as they lead Kid to the paddy wagon, opened the door, and shoved him inside.

Kid lay on the floor, his head throbbing but with his hands bound behind him, he was unable to press his hands against his head. He closed his eyes and winced. Again the image of a jail cell flashed before his eyes. But this time a second image appeared; this was the image of a man free-falling into a rocky abyss. Startled, Kid jerked his head and the image disintegrated. But Kid was certain the image was of himself.

The wagon pulled into Soapy's carriage drive and the Kid was yanked out forcefully and escorted, still hand-cuffed, to Soapy's front door. Soapy's jaw dropped when he opened the door and saw Kid in handcuffs.

"Ain't there laws against harassment?" Kid said in a voice that reminded Soapy of the Kid Curry he knew. "You pay these thugs?"

"Gentlemen," Soapy said in as diplomatic of a voice as he could muster. "Please remove the handcuffs and explain to me why they were necessary."

"He put up a bit of an argument about coming."

"Well, I appreciate your diligence, but in the future, if this man is adamant about not coming, please respect that. There is no call to treat him like this."

Kid stood staring at the ground as the handcuffs were released.

"Please come in, Kid. I'm asking you as a friend."

Everything inside Kid told him to bolt, but he felt some gratitude toward Soapy, especially for the money that he suspected Soapy left in his pocket. He nodded his head and Soapy stepped aside, thanked the officers again, and shut the door.

"Come, I have breakfast waiting."

"Where's the other fella, Heyes?"

"Down at the Wharf looking for you, just as he does every morning."

Kid looked surprised as he followed Soapy into the dining room.

"Was it you that left that money in the pocket of my pants?"

"What money?"

"So it must have been Heyes?"

Soapy smiled. "You two always have taken good care of each other."

Kid looked puzzled as he sat down at the table and Soapy handed him a bowl of scrambled eggs.

"The two of you have been on your own, together, since you were about eight years old.

Kid stopped spooning eggs onto his plate. "How's that?"

"You and Heyes are cousins. You were both orphaned at an early age. You've been together ever since," Soapy replied as he held a plate of bacon out to Kid.

Kid set the bowl on the table and reached for the plate of bacon. Just as he moved to set the plate down, the image of a fire, perhaps a barn or a house; Kid couldn't discern which, flashed through Kid's thoughts and the plate slipped from his fingers, landing with a thud on the table.

"Something wrong?" Soapy asked with great concern.

Kid's fingers pressed against his temples and again his winced as a sharp pain seared across his head. He sucked in a deep breath, releasing it in spurts.

"Kid?...Will the whiskey help?"

Kid nodded and Soapy got up and moved to the Study, returning with a bottle. He poured some whiskey into Kid's empty coffee cup and Kid gulped the contents down. Then he sat staring at the plate of bacon until the pain dissipated.

"What just happened?" Soapy asked.

"I get... flashes of images and bad headaches. The images come and go in an instant. Headaches take a might longer to go away."

"What did you just see?"

"A fire."

"I see."

"You know what it is, don't you?"

"You've both told me things over the years. Soldiers burned your homes, your barns. You both witnessed... far more than a child should see. "

"So that's real, the fire I mean."

"I'm afraid so... Kid, please stay a few days. We might be able to help you with your memory."

Kid remained silent. So far he had seen images of cell bars, a man free falling, and a fire.

"I ain't sure I want to remember," he said quietly.

"Not everything has been bad in your life, Kid."

Kid snorted. Besides the images, he'd been told he was an outlaw and faced twenty years in prison. "So far it don't sound like very much as been good."

"Your relationship with Heyes has always been good. Your quest for amnesty is good. The important things in your life are mostly good."

"Mostly," Kid said sarcastically.

"I tell you what. Let's put these memories aside for now. When Heyes gets back the three of us will talk. In the mean time just enjoy a good breakfast and a relaxing afternoon."

Kid nodded but it took him quite some time to decide to comply with the old man's request.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Heyes walked into Soapy's house late in the afternoon and handed his hat to the servant.

"Is Soapy in the Study?"

"Yes sir."

"Another day without a sign of him, Soapy," Heyes said with great disappointment as he walked up to the bar where Soapy was pouring him a whiskey.

"He's sitting out in the garden," Soapy told him.

"Alone? We can't trust him to stay."

Soapy smiled. "He's agreed to stay a night, maybe two."

Heyes picked up his drink to join Kid in the garden, but Soapy stopped him.

"Wait, Heyes. I've more to tell you. He's agreed to be seen by my physician to see if he can determine the cause of Kid's amnesia. He says he gets images of things that he thinks may be past memories, but he hasn't gotten enough to piece anything together."

"Well, letting a doctor take a look at him is a step in the right direction."

"Yes. Indeed. I think you should know that he says these little images have all been violent and he's worried that might be all his life has been."

"It hasn't all been violent. Maybe I should tell him some of the good things."

"Feel your way through that. He still doesn't know you. He still doesn't trust you. I think he's beginning to have some trust in me."

Heyes smiled. "He calls you the old man, you know?"

Soapy smiled. "Well, he's not really too far off the mark now, is he?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

From behind, Heyes thought Curry looked relaxed sitting on the garden bench, his head tilted back slightly to permit his face to capture the warm rays of sunlight. As he slid into the chair near the bench, Heyes could see Kid had his eyes closed and the slightest smile on his lips.

"Been looking all over for you," Heyes said.

"Here I am."

"You're a hard one to find."

"Comes from years on the run."

"What?" Heyes asked, hoping for some miraculous revelation.

Kid smiled and opened his eyes to look at Heyes. "You said we was outlaws."

"Oh," Heyes replied with a melancholy smile, his eyes falling to the snifter in his hand. "Soapy says you've agreed to stay a day or two."

Kid closed his eyes and once again tilted his face toward the sun. "Like I told him before, I ain't making no promises."

Heyes guessed Kid was more relaxed than he had been in months and he didn't want to spoil that for him, so he decided it might be best to talk generalities. "I like the climate here. Never too cold and almost never too hot. Wyoming is always so cold in the winter."

"I never have been fond of snow and ice," Kid said with an almost lazy tone n his voice.

The recollection surprised Heyes but he didn't comment on it, wondering where the conversation might lead them.

"We use to build grand snow forts in the winter back in Kansas. Mold that snow into big blocks, then stack them as high as we could."

"Pour water over it to freeze it all solid," Kid replied.

"Do grand battles protecting the fort. And your Ma use to make us let Katie play."

"And she always wanted to have tea parties in the fort."

Heyes smiled. "Yeah. I'd forgotten that."

"Don't worry, you get use to it," Kid replied with a slight grin.

"Do you?"

"Do you what?"

"Get use to it?"

The grin disappeared from Kid's face and he opened his eyes and sat up straight. He drained the last remaining drops of his whiskey from the glass. "You ever know you should know somebody's name but it just won't come to you?"

"Yeah. It's frustrating."

"Everything's like that for me. I know I should know, but I don't."

"Maybe you're working too hard at it. You remembered the snow fort when you was feeling all relaxed. Maybe being here, taking it easy, not having to worry about nothing..."

Kid nodded absently and looked at his now empty glass. Heyes stood and reached for the glass.

"You want another one?"

Kid nodded. "Thanks."

Heyes wasted no time refilling their drinks and returning to the garden. Kid took the glass when offered but wasn't quick to drink.

"You know, there's an old man down on the Wharf..."

"The man that calls you Levi?"

Kid smiled. "Yeah. His name is Sam. He says there's only one reason anyone pays any mind to folks living in them alleys, and that it's always for some self serving reason. But he thinks you and the old man are different. He thinks I should give you the benefit of the doubt. So... that's what I'm trying to do. But if this don't work out. I want you two to stop coming after me."

Heyes looked off into the distance. "I don't know how to answer that, Kid. You and me have watched each other's backs since we was kids. Knowing things ain't as they should be for you... I just can't make that promise."

"You know, somehow I knew you would say something like that, so I guess if it comes down to a decision, maybe we'll just flip a coin."

"Who's coin?"

"What?"

Heyes felt a bit of disappointment. He thought Kid had remembered their coin tosses. "Just a …lame attempt at a joke."

Kid just shrugged and took a drink of his whiskey.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Heyes paced nervously outside the closed doors of the Study. Inside the room Dr. Bentley was examining Kid, paying particular attention to a neurological examination. He checked Kid's pupils, equilibrium, dexterity, eye/hand coordination, reflexes, speech. He checked Kid's hearing, and examined his head for tell-tail signs of a physical injury.

After nearly an hour the doors to the Study opened and Dr. Bentley ushered Heyes and Soapy into the room. Kid was standing with his back to the window, buttoning his shirt. Dr. Bentley sat down in a chair and waited for the others to do the same.

"There's no indication of any physical injury, yet Mr. Jones does exhibit extreme memory loss which I understand from Mr. Smith, had not been exhibited prior to a specific episode that occurred about three months ago. Based solely on that information, I might surmise that some traumatic event may have occurred that caused Mr. Jones to respond by mentally distancing himself from that occurrence. Now I understand that very small snippets of memory have been returning to some small degree and I would imagine that this may continue to occur. Eventually this may result in an understanding of what that event was."

"Anything we can do to hurry that along?" Heyes asked.

"I think it would be very helpful to determine just exactly what that event was. These kinds of responses are not uncommon among soldiers who have witnessed gruesome or particularly brutal events and I imagine that might be a possibility in your situation Mr. Jones. In time, your mind might begin to evoke such memories. Often that occurs first in the form of dreams and nightmares. Sometimes those visions present themselves in the light of day and seem just as real and as vivid as the dreams."

"But, until you know what's causing it, there ain't nothing you can do?" Kid asked.

"I think the headaches are a response to either memories that become conscious thought or the brain's struggle to push forth those memories. I can give you medication to relieve those headaches, but it will also dull those thoughts. Now it may be that you want to do that, but if your goal is to regain your memory, these medications are not the way to accomplish that."

"What is the way?" Kid asked.

"I would begin by minimizing all outside stimuli; sight, smell, taste, hearing, even touch for say a week. A week of complete bed rest in a dark, quiet room. Bland food, bland drink, and minimal contact to give the brain a chance to thoroughly rest. Then reintroduce one sensory stimulation at a time. Smell and taste are seldom the culprits, although both can trigger recollections. Perhaps you witnessed or heard something abhorrent. Giving the senses a chance to rest might eventually trigger whatever that was. Once we know the cause, then we can get you on the road of recovery."

"I can't stay here, freeloading for a week," Kid protested.

"Kid you are welcome in my home for as long as is needed," Soapy told him. "I'll have the draperies from the dining room moved to your bedroom. They are royal blue and will darken the room. I'll restrict the staff to the first floor so there will be no unnecessary noise on the second floor."

It quickly became obvious to Kid that he was not in control of the decisions being made and he grew quiet but increasingly determined to escape the throes of those taking control. He nodded complacently at the doctor's recommendations but added little to the conversation. By the end of the meeting, Soapy and Heyes were feeling a bit optimistic, while Kid was feeling very determined to escape once again.

0-0-0-0-0-0

They ate lunch in the garden while the servants attended to the changes to the guest room that Soapy had requested. Once those changes were complete, Kid retired to the guest room. The dining room drapes were thick and dark in color and did effectively darken the room. A pitcher of water and a glass sat on the dresser. Only one oil lamp remained in the room, also located on the dresser.

Kid shut the door behind him and leaned against it as he sighed heavily. Slowly he walked over to the bed, sat down heavily and pulled off his boots. He turned and pushed two pillows together before swinging his feet up and settling in. Kid closed his eyes but sleep evaded him. Once in the afternoon, he heard the door open, then close a few seconds later and knew one of the men was checking in on him and it made him feel imprisoned.

Around seven that evening, Heyes, carrying a tray of food, opened the door quietly and set the tray on the nightstand. He gave a quick glance at the bed and realized the bulky form was that of the two pillows covered with the blankets. Heyes went to the dresser and lit the oil lamp, then rushed to the window and drew back the curtains. The window was open.

Kid was once again gone.

Heyes raced down the stairs and into the Study where Soapy was sitting reading a book.

"He ran!" Heyes announced as he paced the room nervously.

Soapy frowned and closed the book and rested it in his lap. "Heyes, like it or not, you've got to let Kid make his own decisions. We can't keep chasing him down, forcing him to do something he doesn't want to do."

"Once more, Soapy. I've got to try once more, just to talk some sense into him."

"The people living on the street have seen you down there, they recognize you. They'll protect Kid. You won't find him."

"Kid's mentioned an old man named Sam. Maybe if I could find him, he could lead me to Kid."

Soapy got up and crossed the room to the bar where he poured them each a drink.

"I think you're making a mistake," he said handing Heyes a snifter of Brandy. "But I've said my piece. Obviously, the decision is yours."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kid headed straight for the Wharf, stopping once to buy a bottle of whiskey. Then he headed directly for Sam's makeshift residence. By the time he arrived it was after nine. Entering the dark alley, Kid saw the campfire and spied Sam's distinctive hunchback silhouette.

"Levi! I thought you were gone for good this time," Sam exclaimed when Kid came into view.

Kid had the bottle tucked inside his jacket and he patted his jacket with an open hand. "I need to talk to you, in private."

Sam withdrew his hands from the emanating warmth of the fire and made his way toward his tiny home. Kid followed. Once inside, Kid withdrew the bottle and uncorked it, offering the first drink to Sam.

"I heard the police threatened to relocate you this time."

Kid nodded. "The old man..."

"Saunders?"

"Yeah. They must get a payoff from him cause they keep dragging me back there."

"Maybe you should consider moving on, going to another town."

Again Kid nodded. "They had a doctor take a look at me..."

"And?"

"And then they started making all these plans... I had to get out."

"It sounds like they will just keep looking for you. I suspect the police will start getting a little tougher to discourage you from leaving again."

"There ain't gonna be no 'again.' I ain't going back."

"Then you'll have to leave here. Perhaps cross the bay to Oakland or Alameda. But you'll need money for the ferry."

"I got enough."

"Then stay here for the night and take the first ferry in the morning."

"Alright," he said, reaching for the bottle and taking a hefty drink.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"How do I look?" Heyes asked Soapy when he walked into the dining room for lunch.

Soapy looked quite surprised. "Where did you get those clothes?" he asked.

"I went down to a thrift shop on Baker Street this morning. Think I'll blend in on Skid Row?"

Soapy looked admiringly at Heyes' choice of clothing, the tattered pants, the threadbare shirt, the torn hat, the shoes with a floppy sole. "Heyes, you are quite the con artist," Soapy said. "I couldn't have done it better myself."

"So you think I'll pass for a transient?"

"You make a fine transient. But, do you really think you'll be able to fool Kid?"

"Ain't trying to fool Kid. Just want to fool the folks who might know where I can find Kid."

"Then you're all set. They will all think you are one of their own."

"I'm gonna be living down there, Soapy. I figure I can't go disappearing every night. They gotta think of me as a permanent resident."

"What do you plan to tell Kid if you find him?"

"The same thing I've been trying to drill into his head since I got here, that I want to help him, that he can trust me cause I've got his back."

"That hasn't been much help so far. Perhaps you should try a different approach."

"I'll know what to say when I find him, Soapy. I'll find a way to get through to him this time."

"I wish you all the luck in the world, Heyes. If you don't get through to him soon, I'm afraid you may have lost The Kid for good."

Heyes shook his head. "I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen."

"Well come, sit, eat. This may be the last good meal you have for a while."

"Soapy, you got a spare bottle of whiskey I can take along?"

"For Kid?"

"No. I thought it might buy me some information."

Soapy smiled. "You do think just like a con artist, Heyes."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Heyes spent several days walking and sleeping in the alleys that intertwined behind buildings along the Wharf. He had decided not to make any direct inquiries about Kid, and to always refer to Kid as Levi if he did ask a question or two. Taking that approach, he decided to focus his inquiries on the older man that Kid had referred to as Sam. For several days this got him nowhere. But on his third night living among the transients, Heyes ventured down a dark alley where he saw a campfire burning.

"Got room for a couple of more hands?" Heyes asked with a smile as he approached.

"Who be you, mister?" an old man asked.

"Name's... Briscoe. Harry Briscoe," Heyes said, chiding himself for choosing that particular name.

"State your business, friend."

"Just saw your fire and it called to me on this chilly night."

"Suite yourself," Sam replied.

Heyes joined the men and warmed his hands by the fire. "You fellas got names?" he asked , but only one volunteered.

"Sam," he replied. "Other fellas ain't too forthcoming right away, you being a stranger and all. You the police? That hair on your face don't look more than a few days old."

Heyes rubbed his chin and uttered a sigh of relief upon hearing the man's name. "Police? No, I ain't police. Just a fella down and out on his luck."

"There's still some pickins' in that trash bin over there," Sam replied. "Iffin' you's hungry."

Heyes gave the trash bin a nervous glance. "Maybe later. Like to warm up a bit first."

"Suite yourself," Sam replied. "I'm off to bed."

Heyes watched Sam crawl into his hut but he stayed by the fire. Over the next hour the others slowly migrated off to their own nooks and crannies to sleep. Heyes found a spot between the trash bin and Sam and sat down with his back against the wall. In the firelight he watched the rats moving in and out of the trash seeking their own hearty meals. Heyes stayed awake throughout the night, not daring to risk becoming a place of warmth for the rats to settle.

As the light of day crept into the alley, Heyes saw Sam begin to move about and he waited patiently until Sam pulled himself from his shelter.

"You still here, Briscoe?"

"Got no place to go," Heyes replied.

"You sleep or did them rats keep you up?"

"Kind of hard to sleep knowing they're so busy."

"You get use to 'em. For the most part they stay away during the day, although there's usually one or two brave little soldiers lurking about."

Heyes looked around to be sure no one else was around. Then he reached into his jacket and slowly withdrew the bottle of whiskey. "Would you like some breakfast, Sam?"

Sam saw the bottle and ran his tongue over his lower lip. "What is it you want to know, mister?"

"A bit of information, about a friend of ours."

"Ours? Who is it you and me both know?"

"Levi."

Sam stopped moving about and gave Heyes a hard, scrutinizing look. "You're one of them two fancy friends of his, ain't you? Ten to one you're name ain't Briscoe. Why don't you leave that boy alone?"

"Because that boy is my partner and something happened to him. He ain't well. If it was me instead of him living the way he is, he'd do the same for me, like it or not."

Sam listened carefully to Heyes' words and found himself believing this stranger.

"He don't want your help. He's told me that."

"I'm just asking for one more chance, to talk to him, to make him see that I can help him, at least I think I can. I ain't gonna give up trying to find him. I'll keep looking my whole life if I have to."

Sam glanced around the alley to be sure no one else was present. Then he walked over and sat down beside Heyes who, keeping his word, handed Sam the bottle of whiskey.

"He ain't here no more. He moved on to get away from..."

"Away from me?"

Sam nodded. "And that friend of yours."

"Sam... I'm not going to hurt him. I do want to help him...I want my partner back. But I need your help to do that. Tell me where he went... Please."

Sam was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at the unopened whiskey bottle and handed it back to Heyes. "I don't want him thinking I took a bribe...I like that boy, and I know he's struggling... He took the ferry to Alameda Island."

"Come with me, Sam. If he sees you, he'll know you trust me, and if he knows you trust me, maybe he'll start trusting me again, too."

"I can't leave my home. Someone will come along and steal it, or claim squatter's rights to it. Or the police will come and trash it."

"You got a friend down here that would move in till you get back?" Heyes asked, then smiled and held up the bottle of whiskey. "You could pay him well when we get back?"

"That is about the finest whiskey I have ever seen. I can tell by the label it's expensive. I 'spect I can find someone. There's a ferry that leaves for Alameda Island every forty minutes. I'll go talk to a friend of mine and meet you back here in half an hour."

Sam got up and started down the alley. When he was out of sight, Heyes headed for a clothing store.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Half an hour later Heyes returned and waited for Sam to arrive. Another twenty minutes passed before Sam and another elderly man appear in the alley.

Sam held out his hand and painfully snapped two arthritic fingers for the bottle of whiskey that Heyes quickly handed over. Sam then gave it to his friend.

"Now remember Skeeter, you stay here night and day till I get back."

"If you do, there will be another bottle for you when we get back," Heyes promised.

Skeeter nodded and took the bottle and held it close to his body.

"Sam, I took the liberty of picking up some clothes for us. I think we'd blend in better on the ferry."

Sam took the clothes and glanced around the alley. Seeing no one else, he stripped off his old things and dressed in the new ones. Then he tossed his old clothes inside his hut. Heyes felt a little more conspicuous than Sam but did likewise.

0-0-0-0-0-0

The trip to Alameda Island was a short ferry ride but the wind came in great gusts and Heyes was glad he had bought them each wool shirts and pants. He figured the warm clothing would be good for Sam's arthritis.

"You ever been to Alameda Island?" Heyes asked.

"You might as well just ask what you're meaning," Sam replied. "Yeah, I know the general whereabouts to find Levi," Sam replied.

"What made you start calling him Levi?' Heyes asked.

"Poor boy couldn't recall his name. He was wearing a pair of Levis. You don't see too many of them pants along the Wharf. Sailors prefer pants they can moved about in. Only miners and cowboys wear Levis. Just seemed fittin' for him."

Once they had docked and gotten off the ferry Sam stopped near the carriage taxis. "You got much money?" Sam asked.

"Some. What is it you're wanting?"

"Well, being as we're dressed proper, a sit down meal would be nice. Then we'll be wanting a carriage to takes us to the other side of the island. That's where the indigents and transients live."

Heyes smiled. He liked Sam's straight-forwardness. "I think I can pay for both."

"Might want to get a bottle and some food for Levi, too."

Two hours later they were standing on the corner of Fifth and Addison Streets, just outside the section of town that housed the indigents.

"Alameda is careful about containing the indigents to a four or five block area. Police will pick up strays and ferry 'em back to Frisco. So them's that got nothing are very careful about staying where they belong. That'll make it a might easier to find Levi. Of course if he got shipped back..."

"Let's just tackle one problem at a time," Heyes suggested.

"Best tuck the bottle and food in your shirt. Somebody might just up and decide to cop 'em if you don't"

"Cop 'em?"

"Steal 'em."

"Ah," Heyes replied and did as Sam suggested.

"We're pretty much just gonna hafta walk the alleys and hope we spot him. Being dressed this good, ain't nobody gonna go giving us information, and no point trying to bribe 'em neither. They'll just tell you what they think you want to hear."

"You've been at this a long time, haven't you Sam?"

"About a dozen years."

"Ever tried the missions or halfway houses?"

"There's a mission I go to if I'm sick or the weather turns too cold for my arthritis. But they got rules you gotta follow, like takin' a bath once a week and no alcohol inside the place, so I only go there in an emergency, same as everybody else."

They walked the alleys until the darkness of night curtailed their search, but did not find the person they were looking for.

"Might just as well settle down here for the night and no sense letting that food spoil neither," Sam said.

"I could get us a hotel room, Sam, with a nice soft bed," Heyes offered.

"Safer out here than in any of them seedy hotels in the area. Them places is full of bedbug and lice, and people will bust down your door if they think you got anything valuable. Police patrol out here in the streets, so it's safer. Might even be able to ask the police about Levi and get some actual information. No, we're better off out here."

"Alright. You pick a spot."

They settled into a corner in an alley and shared the food Heyes had bought for Kid. Around midnight a policeman doing his rounds saw them and stopped.

"You two new? Ain't seen you around here before."

"We're just passing though, officer," Heyes said, putting on his best charm. "In fact we're here trying to find a friend."

"Who's your friend?"

"His name is Levi," Sam said. "Likely just got here in the past couple of days. Dressed better than most."

The officer thought for a moment. "Dark blond hair. Keeps to himself?"

"That sounds like Levi," Sam replied.

"I seen him over on Ardmore, just a couple of blocks north of here. Fact is I ain't seen him leave Ardmore since he got here."

"Thank you, officer. We'll look first thing in the morning," Heyes replied.

They waited until the officer had vanished from sight. Then Sam pulled himself to his feet.

"We're going now, in the middle of the night?" Heyes asked.

"You want to give that cop time to tip him off to us?"

"Good point," Heyes replied and pulled himself to his feet. "Let's go."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"That's him," Sam said as he pointed to a man sleeping curled up against the wall of a building, covered in burlap bags from shoulders to knees.

"How can you tell in the dark?" Heyes whispered.

"We've been walking these alleys most of the day. Have you seen even one other pair of Levis?"

Heyes looked at the sleeping man. He was in fact wearing blue jeans. "Alright, I'll go wake him."

Sam spread his arm across Heyes' chest to stop him. "Best let me do that. He trusts me, remember?"

Again Heyes relented to Sam's wisdom and he took a step back and nodded.

Sam approached the man but stopped a couple of feet away from him. "Levi," he whispered loudly. "Levi!"

When Kid still did not awaken, Sam looked around to be sure he would not be waking anyone else. "Levi!" he said even more loudly.

Kid woke with a start, and defensively tried to squirm clear of the figure standing over him.

"Levi, it's me, Sam."

Kid stopped and squinted, trying to get a good look at the man. "Sam? What are you doing here? Are you alright?"

Sam stooped down so Kid could get a better look. "I'm fine. But we gotta talk to you."

"We? You brought 'em here?"

Heyes took several steps forward so he too was within Kid's line of vision. "Kid, it's me, Heyes. Yeah, he brought me here."

Kid looked at Heyes and then at Sam. "Did he pay you?" Kid asked Sam as he threw the burlap bags off to the side and stood.

"No Levi, he did not pay me. But he did talk to me and what he told me makes sense. I think you should listen. If you still want no part of him, we'll leave and he'll quit following you."

"Heard that before," Kid said.

But blue and brown eyes locked and for a second Kid sensed something almost intimate in Heyes' eyes. It was enough to make him relent.

"Since we are all dressed relatively well, why don't we go find an all night saloon where we can talk, share a drink, and maybe have some sort of a meal," Heyes suggested.

"Rule number one to living on the streets, Levi, is that you never turn down the offer of a meal and a drink," Sam told Kid.

"I recall you telling me that anyone who makes those kind of offers is just out for himself," Kid replied.

"Rule number two is never listen to nobody giving you advice on the street."

"Well we could stand here all night and debate the Ten Commandments of the Homeless, or we can go find some food and drink," Heyes said. "I vote for the latter."

0-0-0-0-0-0

The three men sat at a table in the dark, seedy bar just a couple of blocks from the Skid-row section of town. Two men stood at the bar drinking beer or whiskey. Another man sat with his head face down on a table, passed out with a half spent bottle of whiskey as he only companion. At the far end of the room five men sat playing a penny-anti game of poker. An long overused whore sat on the steps leading upstairs.

The only food offering was beef stew and biscuits and Heyes ordered a serving for each of them, along with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses.

"I ain't laying in that bed free-loading for a week," Kid said, beginning the conversation.

"Alright," Heyes replied. "I've been thinking, and maybe there's a better way to try to get your memory back."

Kid took a gulp of his whiskey and held it in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.

"Heyes," Kid said in a low voice, "You think you know more than the doctor?"

"No. But obviously you think you do, Kid," Heyes replied. "Else you wouldn't have run off for the third time."

"Wait just a dam minute," Sam said, carefully keeping his own voice low. "Kid, Heyes... Are you two them outlaws?"

"Shh, Keep your voice down," Heyes cautioned, then stopped speaking when the owner of the bar brought the bowls of stew and biscuits to them. He remained silent until the bartender was back behind the bar again.

"Do we look like outlaws?" Heyes snapped back in a authoritative whisper.

"But you told me we are them outlaws," Kid whispered.

Heyes sighed with a feeling of tremendous exasperation. "Yes, Kid, we are. Now can we close that subject and get back to the matter at hand," he ordered rather than asked.

"So what's your plan?" Kid asked.

"Before we split up almost four months ago now, your memory was as good as mine. Something had to have happened shortly after we split up. Otherwise you would have let me know where you were and why you weren't able to get to Denver."

"I know just where this is leading," Sam said and Heyes shot him another exasperated look.

"Well I don't," Kid replied. "What are you saying, Heyes?"

"I'm saying I think you and me should go back to where we split up and travel the route you took. Maybe something will trigger your memory that way."

"You want to go all they way back to Wyoming, with me, just to ride some desolate trail for a few days?"

"No. I want to go all the way back to Wyoming, with you, to ride some desolate trail for a few days to discover what it was you saw, or heard, or did, to cause you to lose your memory."

"Levi, what your friend here is saying does make some sense," Sam told Kid. "I fought in that War Between the States, and I've seen cases like yours where a man forgets everything, everybody he ever knew, all because of the horrors he seen in battle. A mind can only hold so much grief, so much killing, so much of just about anything and something just snaps. I've seen it happen more than once."

"And these men you've seen. They get their memories back?" Kid asked.

"I ain't gonna lie to you, Levi. Some do and some don't. But if you're one of the one's that does, ain't it worth a week in the wilderness?"

"I ain't got the money to go back to Wyoming."

"I do, and it ain't the first time you and me have shared whatever money one of us happens to have, so don't feel no obligation about the money."

"Levi, you can't turn this down. Give this man at least a little of your trust," Sam told him.

Kid gave hard consideration to what both men were telling him.

"What happens if it don't work?" Kid asked.

Heyes sighed yet again. "Then I'll see to it you get to wherever it is you want to go, and you'll have seen the last of me, if that's what you want."

Kid studied Heyes' face, then looked a Sam whose facial expression eagerly encouraged Kid to go along with the offer.

"Alright," Kid finally said. "But you gotta stick to your end of the bargain. If this don't work, you leave me be."

"Deal," Heyes replied and extended his hand to seal the deal.

Kid gave the matter one last consideration, then shook Heyes' hand.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Three days later, after getting Sam back to his hut and paying both the friend and Sam each with another bottle of fine whiskey, Heyes and Kid returned to Soapy's to make preparations for the trip The next morning they boarded the train for Cheyenne. After hearing the plan, Soapy had graciously given them both an ample amount of money to cover all their travel expenses. All he wanted in return was that one or both of them return to San Francisco to let him know if the journey had been successful.

They arrived in Cheyenne two days later. They spent one night in a hotel, bought two horses and what gear and supplies they deemed necessary. Kid bought a brown felt wide-brim hat as he wanted some protection from the sun. He also bought a Colt .45 and a holster and bullets. He wasn't quite sure why, but he felt that he wasn't fully dressed without the hardware. By noon they were on their way and it took them another two days to reach the point where they had split up some four months ago.

During the past week, Kid had begun to grow accustomed to the now chronic headaches. But as they began to travel the path of his escape, the severity of the headaches mounted and even the light pressure of the hat was difficult to withstand. He made frequent stops and drank from his canteen often. As they ascended into the mountains, and the temperatures cooled slightly, the pain of the headaches began to ebb and flow.

"So this is how we lived, just wandering around out in the wilderness?" Kid asked as they crossed the tree line and the terrain began to steepen.

Heyes smiled. "You always loved the open wilderness. Said you always felt more at home out here than in a city."

"I do like the quiet of it. There's just too much hustle and bustle in a city. A man can't think straight."

Heyes turned and gave Kid a quizzical look and they both began to laugh.

"Well, I can't think straight, anyway," Kid joked.

Late in the afternoon they reached a spot where the path forked.

"This is where we split up," Heyes said. "Any recollection?"

Kid initially shook his head, then paused. "You went...that way," he said pointing to the path Heyes had taken.

"You remembered that?"

"I think so," he said slowly. "Might just have been a lucky guess," he confessed.

"Let's make camp here, tonight. The route you took looks pretty steep and you can see a few miles up ahead the path narrows considerably."

Kid stared at the path that lay ahead, then his entire body shuddered.

"You alright?" Heyes asked with some concern.

"I told you that flash of an image...That flash of somebody fallin'. I think it's me that's fallin'."

"And you think it happened up there?" Heyes asked.

"I...I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, let's make camp, have some supper and a good night's sleep. We'll tackle any demons tomorrow, Kid"

By late evening the horizon had taken on a purple and gray color that silhouetted an ominous darkness to the mountains. Heyes and Curry lingered over coffee as they sat around the campfire. Heyes could sense that Kid was withdrawing, internalizing some darkness he could not explain.

"You're not going to sleep tonight, are you?" Heyes asked.

"Uh? What?" Kid asked when both the silence and his thoughts were broken.

Heyes was certain that his plan was working, that something horrible had happened on this trail that had caused Kid to retreat, so severely as to lose all memory of the event, and of his life. He could only hope he was doing the right thing by forcing Kid to face whatever horror that was.

"I said, you ain't gonna sleep tonight, are you?"

"Something don't feel right. It's like it's all right there, just beyond my reach."

"Don't try to rush things, Kid. If it's gonna come to you, it will. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day."

"It's something bad, Heyes. That much I know. I can feel that."

"Are you willing to keep going, or do you want to go back?"

Kid shrugged and shook his head as he stared into the fire. "I think we've come this far, I have to keep going."

0-0-0-0-0-

They stood back, well away from the narrow ridge, but close enough to realize that crossing on foot to the other side looked virtually impossible. Heyes stared at the ridge, so narrow that his boot was longer than the ridge was wide.

"Kid, you didn't cross that, did you?"

Heyes saw Kid's body suddenly shudder as Kid sat down on the ground and pressed the palms of both hands against his forehead as he squinted and winced.

"You did cross it."

Kid began to breathe heavily and he turned to sit facing away from the ridge, his knees drawn up and his hands still pressed against his head. "Had no choice, nowhere to go. You can see for yourself, this is a dead end... I left my horse and my hat and I..."

"Your hat?"

"Uh-uh. I had to lean back against the wall of rock. The hat brim wouldda gotten in the way. Had to leave it to to try to cross..." Kid's voice trailed off as the headache intensified.

"But obviously you made it across..."

"Turned my feet sideways and pressed my back against the rock...didn't look down, not even once. I knew if I looked down I'd lose my balance and fall."

"But you did make it," Heyes reiterated.

Kid's body suddenly stiffened and slowly his hands dropped down to rest on his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and winced. " But them others didn't," he whispered and slowly opened his eyes. His eyes looked glossy as he stared at the ground while dozens of images flashed through his mind.

"What others, the posse?" Heyes asked. "The entire posse tried to cross that ridge?"

Kid's head slowly nodded as he stared at the ground in front of him. "I got to the other side and climbed up to the cliff... I was certain the posse would turn back, but I wanted to see to be sure."

"I see the cliff," Heyes said as he looked across the gorge.

"They came to the ridge...and I could tell what they was thinkin.' So, I fired a couple of shots in the air to let them know I was on the other side and they couldn't get to me."

"And they tried anyway," Heyes said.

Kid nodded. He was panting heavily as the memory revealed itself. "I called out to them. Told them not to try. Told them I wasn't worth them risking their lives...I tried to stop 'em, Heyes... but they came anyway, and not just one at a time."

Kid's chin began to quiver. "The first man got out to about the middle and...I saw him look down into that gorge. I saw him start to teeter, wavin' his arms around in circles and... and then he leaned forward and just as he fell, he reached out and got hold of the next man's shirt and... Oh, God, Heyes."

"And the other one fell, too," Heyes said, understanding the trauma Kid had witnessed.

"It was like a stack of dominoes one right after the other till every last one of 'em..."

Kid was almost gasping for breath as he continued to stare at the ground, seeing the scene repeat itself in his mind "I heard the screams, like an echo all the way down to the bottom, and... I heard each one of them slam against the rocks down there..."

Heyes sat up and wiped his hands slowly down his face in anguish.

"I couldn't get to them. I wouldda had to cross that ridge again to reach 'em. I couldn't do it." Slowly Kid raised his head. "Heyes, I don't know if they was all dead... I couldn't help 'em if any of them was still alive... I couldn't even go back to bury em... I..."

Heyes shifted to sit beside his partner and he pulled Kid's head and shoulders against him. "There's nothing you could have done, Kid. It's impossible. You're not to blame."

Heyes could feel Kid's rigid body trembling

"I watched eight men fall to their deaths... And I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it."

"Kid, you did everything you possibly could to stop it. You warned them not to try."

Heyes held Kid in his arms, prepared to sit there for as long a time as needed. As he held Kid close to him, Heyes looked off into the nearby trees and he saw something glimmering in the sunlight. Taking a great interest in determining what he was seeing, Heyes studied the object carefully.

"Kid," Heyes said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I found your hat."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Rather than return to Cheyenne, they headed south toward Rawling where they sold their horses and gear and bought two tickets for San Francisco. The trip took several days and Heyes made certain never to let Kid out of his sight. He wasn't hovering or overbearing, and now that the memories were beginning to flood back into Kid's conscious thoughts, he was grateful to have the reassurance of his partner at his side. There was still work to be done, but the process of healing had begun.

Soapy greeted them at the door with open arms, pleased to see they had returned together, that the bond so intricately woven over the years had not been severed. Soapy arranged to have Dr. Bentley return to see Kid again and Soapy graciously and happily invited them to stay until the doctor felt Kid was well enough once again to return to the life he knew, the life he shared with Heyes.

One afternoon, shortly before they were to return to Wyoming once again, Heyes and Kid ventured down to the Wharf where they bought whiskey and food and carried their packages through the alleys of Skid Row in search of their old friend, Sam.

They reached the hut and saw two feet sticking out of the end.

"Might early in the day to be sleeping. You suppose he's alright?" Kid asked with some concern.

"Yeah. He told me he goes to one of the missions when he's sick," Heyes replied.

Kid walked up to the opening of the hut and called out to the old man. "Sam, it's Levi. You awake?"

Kid breathed a sigh of relief when the two feet shifted and Sam inched his way out of the hut and stood up.

"Levi!" Sam said and opened his arms to his friend. As Kid walked into the old man's arms, Sam saw a glint in Kid's eyes he had not previously seen.

"And Heyes!" Sam exclaimed when Kid took a step back. "I can see in Levi's eyes that the plan worked."

"I'm getting my memory back, if that's what you mean," Kid said. "Here, we brung you some food and drink. You want me to put them inside?"

"That would be fine, Levi, thank you," Sam replied.

"And Kid and me came up with another plan, Sam," Heyes told him.

"And what might that be?"

"Why don't we talk about it over a beer and a steak?" Heyes suggested.

"And leave all my fine new treasures to be stolen? I should say not," Sam replied.

"Heyes, there's a saloon around the corner. Why don't you go buy a pint that the three of us can share right here," Kid suggested.

"I'll be back in a minute," Heyes said and headed down the alley.

"So what's the plan?" Sam asked.

"No, I'd better wait till Heyes gets back," Kid replied with a grin. "But Sam, I do want to thank you for all you done for me, for helping me see that Heyes really is my friend."

"Ah, he's more than a friend, Levi. I've never seen someone so willing to go so far to help another person heal. And I could also tell in your eyes that somewhere inside you, you knew that all along and you'd do the same for him."

"Wish I could of seen it. Might have made things a bit easier for everyone all along."

"That's water over the damn now, Levi." Sam paused and chuckled. "I suppose I should stop calling you that now, shouldn't I?"

Kid shook his head. "I got more aliases than I can keep track of, but Levi will always be kind of special to me."

Heyes returned with the pint of whiskey and they all sat down near the hut and passed the bottle around.

"So, Heyes, what's your plan?" Sam asked.

"Well, Kid and me and our kindly, wealthy friend..."

"Saunders?"

Kid laughed. "Yeah, Saunders."

"We want to set you up in your own place and we'll cover the rent for a year. Nothing fancy, mind you. Just a little apartment over one of the stores nearby, so you can still see your friends when you want to."

"A place that'll keep your arthritis at bay in the cold," Kid added.

Sam smiled but shook his head. "I know you boys mean well, and I appreciate the gesture, I really do. You might find it hard to believe, but this is my home. I'm comfortable here. I have places for shelter when I need it. I've lived here more than a dozen years. It's what I'm use to. It's what I know."

"But we want to give you a real roof over your head, a warm place to sleep with a real bed."

"Look up there," Sam said pointing to the sky. "That is my roof. The sun and a few blankets are my warmth. Others that live down here, we take care of each other. I wouldn't be happy living somewhere all alone."

"Then what can we do for you, Sam? Money?" Kid asked.

Sam smiled. "I'd just waste money on whiskey, or give it away to my friends. You want to do something to help me? To help everyone down here?"

They both nodded.

"Then give a donation to the mission, where we can get a hot meal or a warm bed when we're in need."

"Alright Sam, if that's what you want," Heyes replied.

"So you'll be leaving town soon?" Sam asked.

"We're going back to Wyoming in a few days," Heyes replied.

"Well, I've certainly enjoyed knowing the two of you. I've never known real outlaws before."

"Oh, we ain't been outlaws for a few years. Kid and me have going straight," Heyes confessed.

"Well don't let the word get out about that. A week from now, after you are safely back in Wyoming, I'm going to be bragging around the campfire about who the two of you really are."

Kid laughed. "Just don't let any of the police hear you."

Sam used his finger to cross his heart. "I promise, Levi."

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Soapy, I don't know how to thank you for all you've done," Kid said as they stood on the platform waiting to board the train.

"You two are welcome in my home anytime. You remember that."

"We will, Soapy." Heyes replied.

"You know, it seems that every time the two of you visit, it's because of one crisis or another. Perhaps your next visit could be just that, a plain, uneventful, leisurely visit."

Heyes and Curry both laughed. "We'll try real hard for that, Soapy," Heyes promised.

"All Aboard!" the Conductor shouted.

Heyes and Kid waited till the train began to pull out before jumping onto the passenger car deck where they stood, waving to Soapy until he was out of sight.

.