The KIDnapping
Kid Curry lay hidden in the underbrush struggling to stay conscious until someone would be able to swing back around and help him. He desperately hoped that someone would be a member of the Devil's Hole Gang, and not someone from the ensuing posse. The bullet that had struck him was no more than a deep graze along his right temple, but the fall from the horse was far more damaging, as his left foot had landed in gopher hole, twisted against the momentum of his body, and snapped the tibia in two, resulting in an open fracture, the bone protruding through his outer calf.
As the hours passed and the sun began to dip behind the mountains, Kid again wiped a gloved hand across his eyes and cheek to keep the blood from obscuring his vision. He drew his gun from it's holster and checked the chamber. His breathing came in gasps as he forced himself to ignore the pain in his leg and prop himself up on his elbow to examine the injury. Less than an inch of the bone was visible, but the blood surrounding the wound and staining his pant leg was enough to attract the attention of nearby predators, and Kid knew he had not the strength to fight off even one, let alone a pack of hungry wolves.
Kid's elbow shifted and he dropped back down on the ground. The loss of blood was causing some dehydration and he ran a dry tongue across equally dry lips. Slowly he surrendered to the exhaustion as heavy eyes closed and he drifted into an unconscious sleep, his right hand wrapped around the butt of his gun, his finger resting against the trigger.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Kid woke to cool water against his dry lips and trickling down the side of his face. Urgently his hands raised to grasp the receptacle, surprised to find his fingers wrapping around a glass, rather tan a canteen. He gulped the water greedily, not bothering to take a breath between swallows.
"Slow down, son. Take it easy," an unfamiliar voice of a man instructed him.
Kid gulped another swallow of the water before the glass was pried from his grasp, and he panted heavily and opened his eyes, trying to acclimate himself to his surroundings. While he didn't know the location, Kid was quit familiar with the iron bars of a cell, and a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper escaped him. Kid's eyes came to rest on the portly older man sitting on the edge of the cot where Kid lay.
"Who are you?" Kid asked, using all his strength to shift himself onto his back, then placing both palms down on the threadbare mattress to push himself up to lean against the brick wall behind him. This movement caused sharp pains in his right leg and he winced. "How long have I been here?"
"I'm Doctor Fletcher and you're in Sweetwater. You've been here almost three days. The posse found you unconscious a few miles out of town and brought you back here. I got your leg set, which took some surgery and explains why you've been asleep so long. Now, answer me a question. You got a name, son?"
"Jones... Thaddeus Jones."
"Uh-uh. Sheriff thinks your name's Jed Curry, and judging by the events of how you got here, I'm guessing he's right."
"I hear talking. The prisoner awake?" Sheriff Floyd Calhoun asked as his chair scraped against the floor and he rose from his desk to walk to the front of the cell. "Well, if it ain't Kid Curry in the flesh," Calhoun proclaimed. "You don't look near as tough as your reputation, but people tend to embellish I reckon."
"Where am I?" Kid asked, still dazed from both the injury and the anesthesia.
"Doc already told you. You're here in Sweetwater, and you'll be here till you're strong enough to be moved. Then you'll be taken by armed escort to Laramie, where you'll eventually settle into your twenty year home in the Federal Prison," the Sheriff replied.
Kid heard the Sheriff, but his eyes never left the doctor. "Can I have some more of that water?" he asked, offering no response to the gloating Sheriff. "Thank you," he told the doctor when the glass was refilled and handed to him.
"I'm giving you some laudanum for the leg pain. I can't leave it in the cell though, so you'll have to ask the Sheriff for it when you need it."
Kid nodded, though doubted the Sheriff would be too cooperative with that idea.
"Am I your only... guest?" Kid asked, slowly shifting his eyes to the three empty cells.
"Your friends managed to elude us if that's what your asking," the Sheriff replied.
The relief Kid felt at the gang successful escape was suddenly replaced by another sharp pain that seared across his lower right leg. He winced and carefully readjusted the position of his splinted leg.
"How long before I can walk again?"
"We'll give the leg a few days to a week of rest, then try you out on some crutches. But it'll be a good six, maybe eight weeks before you're walking on your own again," Doctor Fletcher replied.
Kid nodded. He was less concerned about his leg and the length of time before he'd be walking, than about the length of time before he would be transferred to Laramie. He knew Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole gang would be planning a way to prevent that transfer from happening. The longer he remained in Sweetwater, the more likely the gang would succeed.
Kid was suddenly aware of a bandage wrapped about his head. He raised his hand to let his fingers brush against the cloth.
"That was just a graze," Dr. Fletcher explained. "You were lucky. Any closer and you might be dead, or at least blind in that eye. But you ain't neither so you can count your blessings for that."
Kid didn't think the prospect of prison for twenty years was much of a trade off. "Yeah," was all he replied.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"They had to have taken him to Sweetwater or Rock Springs," Heyes said as he paced the width of the bunkhouse. "And there's no telling how bad he's hurt."
Heyes paced again as all the outlaws sat in silence, afraid to utter a sound while Heyes was thinking. Heyes had decided Sweetwater was Kid's most likely destination and he personally would go there, but the question remained as to who he should he send to Rock Springs. He abruptly stopped pacing and looked at each of the men staring back at him with high anticipation. He couldn't send Wheat, he was too easily recognized and too quick to be riled if confronted. Lobo would likely spend most of his time in the saloon gambling. Preacher had a face people would remember, and Kyle...well that excuse went without saying. The others were just too new and inexperienced. They all followed directions well, but none had yet been tested on their own. Heyes sighed heavily. He had no choice but to send Wheat and hoped he could keep a low profile.
Wheat Carlson was the oldest member of the gang and had ridden with Jim Santana before Santana himself had been caught and sent to prison. Wheat was a good and dependable third in command, but held high aspirations of one day being the leader of the Devil's Hole gang. Unfortunately, Wheat lacked not only the intellectual skills required for such a position, but the intellectual skills needed to know he was not full leadership material..
"Wheat, you go to Rock Springs. We'll leave in the morning and be back here the day after."
"You can count on me, Heyes . If The Kid's there, I'll find out."
"Be careful nobody notices you, Wheat. There's wanted posters out on you too, you know."
Wheat snorted. "Ain't no lawman smart enough to trap Wheat Carlson," he proclaimed and Heyes tried to force a smile of confidence.
"Heyes, I got some dynamite iffin the two of you want to take it along," Kyle offered. "Ain't neither of the jails in them towns made with nothing more than brick and mortar. Just a couple of sticks would blast a hole big enough to walk through."
"Thanks Kyle but, we don't know how bad The Kid's hurt. I think we need to know that before we go making plans to go get him. But I'll keep your suggestion in mind."
Kyle smiled, innocently proud that the leader of the gang thought his suggestion worthy of consideration.
0-0-0-0-0-
"I ain't got no brother. I ain't got no sister. No sister and no brother. I'm a long, long way from home. I'm a poor lonesome cowboy..."
"You're gonna be just that if you don't shut up and give me some peace and quite," Sheriff Calhoun warned.
Kid paused for a moment to consider the threatening consequences. "I ain't got no brother. I ain't got no sister. No sister and no brother..." Kid sang, belting the words out as loudly as he could.
"Doc, I ain't never gonna forgive you for this one," Sheriff Calhoun said when Doctor Fletcher stopped in to check on his patient that evening.
"I'm a poor lonesome cowboy, a poor lonesome cowboy. A long long way from home."
Doctor Fletcher smiled. "He's feeling pretty good, is he?"
"I'm surprised you ain't heard him all the way across the street. He's been doing that all afternoon. Nonstop."
"Well, I'm guessing he needs a tad bigger dose of the laudanum to get him to sleep instead of just drug drunk. You want to let me in so I can take a look at those bandages?"
Sheriff Calhoun got up from his chair and grabbed the ring of cell keys. He unlocked the cell and let the doctor go inside before locking the door once again.
"You give him anymore of the medicine today?" Doctor Fletcher asked the Sheriff.
"I figured anyone who can carry on like that must be feeling pretty good, so I ain't even tried to give him any more."
The doctor nodded, then turned his attention to his patient."How are you feeling son?"
Kid stopped singing and opened his eyes. "I ain't hurting."
"Well that's a good sign. I want to take a look at those bandages."
Kid pulled himself up and leaned back against the wall.
"Look away,' Kid said, then broke into another popular tune Look away, look away, Dixieland," Kid sang, dropping his voice to the lowest note he could achieve for the final syllable of the song.
Again the doctor smiled. "Floyd, why don't you bring that bottle of medicine over here. I think the patient could use a booster dosing." the doctor called to the Sheriff.
Handing the doctor the bottle through the cell bars, Doctor Fletcher grasped the bottle and examined the contents to determine just how much of the medicine was still in the bottle. Then he held the bottle to Kid's mouth. "Here son, take a good drink," he told Kid.
Doctor Fletcher monitored just how much of the medicine Kid drank, then he corked the lid of the bottle and stood up. "That should do you for tonight," he told the Sheriff, then slipped the bottle into his pocked and sat down on the edge of the bed to examine Kid's bandages.
"Bandages all look good. No bleeding on either one of them. Whoever did your doctoring son, did an exceptional job," Doctor Fletcher joked and walked over to the cell door and waited for the Sheriff to unlock the door and let him out.
"A fine job," Kid repeated, his words beginning to slur slightly from the additional medication.
Doctor Fletcher handed the Sheriff the medication bottle. "He should be quieting down in a few minutes. I wouldn't give him anymore of this tonight. I'll be back to check on him in the morning."
0-0-0-0-0-
As the morning sun poured in through the windows, and the night deputy doused the oil lamps for the day, Kid moaned and squeezed his eyes shut as his head throbbed with the familiar pain of a hangover. His arms felt weighted down as he raised his hands to further block his eyes from the rays of morning light that seeped in through the small barred window above his cot and came to rest directly on Kid's face.
Kid moaned a second time when Doctor Fletcher stepped into the office and he and the Sheriff exchanged a morning greeting. "Can you keep it down out there?" Kid grumbled.
Doctor Fletcher smiled. " I might have overdone it with the laudanum last night," he told the Sheriff as the Sheriff fumbled with his key ring, then unlocked the cell to let the doctor complete his morning examination.
"I feel like I've been drinkin' for a week," Kid mumbled, his speech still a little slurred.
"You hungry, son?" the Sheriff asked.
Kid started to shake his head, but stopped suddenly when the room began to spin. "No."
"You ought to try to eat something," Dr. Fletcher told Kid as he sat down on the edge of the cot and began to unwrap the bandage covering the bullet graze wound near Kid's right eye. "Looks clean. No sign of infection," he announced.
"Can you wrap that a little lower, like over my eyes?' Kid asked.
Dr. Fletcher smiled. "No, son, but I can give you an eye mask. It'll keep the sunlight from bothering you," he said and reached into his bag, retrieving a small black mask that he slipped around Kid's head, leaving the mask itself resting on Kid's forehead. "There, that should help. Now, let me take a look at that leg," he said and pulled the blanket back as Kid laboriously propped himself on his elbows to get himself a gander at the stitches and splints.
"That looks like it's healing well, too. Won't be putting any weight on it for another six weeks, but I suspect you'll be trying out those crutches in another three or four days."
Kid lowered himself back down on the cot and pulled the eye shield down over his eyes. "Whatever you say," he replied and was once again asleep before the doctor even left the cell.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Having robbed the Sweetwater Bank just days before, Hannibal Heyes knew he was taking an enormous risk riding into town. He wore his brown suit and Darby hat, wanting to distance himself as much as possible from that of an outlaw image. Having scouted the town prior to the robbery, Heyes knew where the Sheriff's Office was located. He also knew there was a cafe directly across from the jail. He pulled up in front of the cafe and tethered his horse to the post. Then he walked into the cafe and took the window seat, giving him a clear view of the comings and goings at the jail across the street. He ordered a cup of coffee and kept a good watch out the window.
Half an hour later, the Sheriff emerged and headed down the street for his morning rounds. Heyes hurried to the register and quickly paid the waitress for the coffee. Then he headed across the street and into the jail.
"Good morning," Heyes said somewhat exuberantly as he walked into the jail an extended his hand to the man behind the desk. "You the Sheriff?"
"I'm Deputy Wilcox. Sheriff Calhoun is doing his rounds. He should be back in an hour. Anything I can help you with?"
In the background, Kid began lightly snoring. He was awake and recognized Heyes' voice, and wanted to signal his partner of this knowledge.
"My name is Howard Malone. I'm a traveling salesman. I always make a point of checking in with the local Sheriff when I arrive in a town, just to see if there are any permits I have to obtain before I start selling my wares."
"Nope, we don't require no permits. What is it you sell Mr. Malone?"
Heyes looked a little embarrassed and leaned in a little over the desk. "I sell ladies corsets and...under things."
"Door to door? Do many ladies even let you into their homes?"
Heyes smiled again. "You'd be surprised how many women are happy to see me coming. It means they can look at the merchandise and buy these items in the privacy of their own homes. Why a good many of them are quite eager to buy the sort of items that you and me can only hope to see in a saloon or a brothel. But to tell you the truth, I do most of my sales in them saloons and whorehouses. Image is important to those ladies and some of the men I find in saloons like to buy those little frillies for their wives or lady friends. Never had a man in a brothel buy anything. I think they're too worried about explaining to the missus just where the item came from," Heyes said as he winked at the deputy.
The man in the cell snorted loudly, but quickly resumed his soft snoring. Heyes leaned back and took a look at the man sleeping in the cell. "Is that your town drunk?" Heyes asked. "He looks like he fell down a flight of stairs what with all them splints on his leg."
"No. But sis leg is broke alright. Our bank got robbed a few days ago. That's one of the men who done it."
"A real live outlaw?" Heyes asked. "Who is he?"
"Kid Curry of the Devil's Hole Gang."
"You don't say... Rest of the gang got away?"
"Yep."
"Don't suppose this one was carrying the money?"
"Nope. Couldn't get that lucky."
"Don't he work with a partner, ah...what's his name?"
"Hannibal Heyes. He got away."
"Aren't you worried that gang will come back after this one?" Heyes asked.
"Sheriff already took care of that. He's got extra men posted in the street and up on the roofs. Devil's Hole gang tries breaking this one out of jail, they'll be kilt or arrested before they ever get inside here."
Heyes laughed nervously. "Sounds like the Sheriff has everything under control. Bet folks feel safe in this town. I s'pect this one will be heading to prison?"
"Yep, gonna hafta go by train cause Doc says he can't walk on that leg for six weeks."
"Train, uh? Hey, what's the matter with his eyes?" Heyes asked, quite concerned about the dark eye patches, but careful not to appear so.
"Nothing. Doc gave him that eye patch so he can sleep easier during the day. It blocks out the light real good, Doc says."
"And the bandage around his head?"
"He got grazed by a bullet. Doc says he'll be fine."
"Ah... Well, I guess I shouldn't be taking up any more of your time, Deputy. I'll just be on my way. Time is money, or so they say," Heyes replied.
Kid snorted and shifted in his bed, flinging his right arm out across the mattress, his hand hanging loosely over the side of the bed, and his thumb pointed slightly upward toward the ceiling, another signal to Heyes that he had heard the conversation.
"Well, I'll be seeing you," Heyes said, looking at the deputy, but speaking to his partner.
Before leaving town to head back to Devil's Hole, Heyes stopped by the train station to pick up the eastbound schedules. Then he rode quickly back to Devil's Hole. There were plans to be made.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Alright, this is what we know so far," Heyes said as he and Wheat stood before the members of the Devil's Hole gang for the second time in as many days.
"We know Kid's in the jail in Sweetwater, and he's got a broken leg. Doc says he won't be walking on that leg for at least six weeks, but he might be able to be up on crutches as early as next week. If he is, they are taking him to Laramie by train sometime early to middle part of next week.
"We could dynamite him outta jail right now, Heyes," Kyle suggested, a wad of tobacco puffing his cheek out.
"We can't get near enough to the jail to do that, Kyle. Sheriff's got guards inside and out, and they all know to be watching for us. Sheriff has given em orders to shoot first, ask questions later," Heyes explained.
"Which means, we're gonna hafta free The Kid when he's on the train," Wheat proclaimed, puffing his chest as a show of authority.
"How we gonna know which train The Kid will be on?" Lobo asked.
"I picked up a train schedule. The eastbound leaves daily at eleven, except on the third Tuesday of the month when it leaves at three-thirty. I figure on Sunday, we're gonna have to head back to Sweetwater, stay outside the city limits, but keep a close eye on any jail activity. Whatever train Kid gets on, so will we," Heyes explained.
"Heyes, he's likely to have armed guards sitting with him on that train," Preacher said.
"Yep. That's why we're putting four men right in that passenger car. Wheat and me will take care of the guards while the other two keep the passengers in their seats and outta the way. The rest of you fellas will derail the tracks right at Deadman's Pass. When the train begins to slow, we'll draw our guns, overpower the deputies and free Kid. They won't be able to come after us cause they won't have no horses. Twenty miles back to Devil's Hole and the job's done."
"You want be to bring along some dynamite, just in case, Heyes?" Kyle asked.
"NO!," both Heyes and Wheat ordered in unison and Kyle visibly shrunk down in his chair.
"Kyle, we ain't gonna blow up a train full of passengers," Wheat explained. "We'd sooner let Kid go to prison," added under his breath.
Heyes looked dumbfounded at Wheat who shrugged his shoulders and shrunk back a bit. "Just saying we ain't blowing up a train, that's all," he told Heyes.
"Wheat, if you weren't an outlaw, you wouldda made a fine politician, exhibiting that kind of logic," Heyes replied.
Wheat knew there was an insult somewhere in Heyes' words, and it sunk into him when he saw Kyle nodding his head and smiling ear to ear
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"Leg looks good, son. Stitches can come out in a couple of more days. If you're on your way by then, I'll wire the Sheriff in Laramie to let him know you'll have to see a doctor for that."
"Yes, Sir," Kid replied.
"You up to trying your hand with those crutches?"
Kid sighed. Mastering the crutches meant he'd be leaving for Laramie soon. Having not seen or heard from Heyes in a few days, Kid assumed the gang was planning to free him on the train. The concern for Kid was how to let the gang know just what day that would be, when he wasn't sure himself. But mobility was his chief concern for the moment and he nodded his head to the doctor who then reached for the crutches.
"Now just stand on your good leg. Don't put any weight on the broken leg."
"Don't think that'll be a problem," Kid replied and slowly pulled himself up to stand on his left foot. Dr. Fletcher quickly handed Kid the crutches, one at a time and Kid slipped them in to place, bending his right knee so his right foot was several inches off the floor. "Like this?" Kid asked.
"That's good, son. You've got to protect that right leg as much as you can. Alright, when you've got your balance, try taking a few steps."
Kid took a few hesitant steps, then smiled at the ease with which the crutches helped him to get around.
"Yeah, you've got the hang of it," the doctor told him and Kid smiled.
"Does this mean we can get him on his way to Laramie, Doc?" Sheriff Calhoun asked as he watched the activity from his desk.
"Given my druthers Floyd, I'd like him to stay two more days so I can take the stitches out. But I understand the extra expense his being here is costing the town so, I'd say he can leave in the morning if that's what you want to do."
"You sure, Doc?" Kid asked. "A little more training with these things wouldn't hurt none."
Doctor Fletcher shook his head. "It ain't up to you, son."
"This being Sunday, Doc. What if we was to take the eleven o'clock train on Tuesday. Would you be able to take them stitches out in the morning, before we go?"
"I think that would work, Floyd. I could splint the leg a little more, too. Might make the traveling easier."
"Ain't especially looking forward to being on crutches in prison," Kid grumbled.
"Shouldda thought of that before you and your gang robbed our bank," Sheriff Calhoun replied.
That same afternoon, the Devil's Hole gang reached the outskirts of Sweetwater and carefully spread out in the trees along the perimeters of the city. Heyes hoped they would be able to determine the transfer day by the level of activity in and out of the Sheriff's office. The ride to Deadman's Pass was over an hour, so the men going there would need at least two hours minimum head start in order to disrupt the track before the train arrived.
Heyes, Wheat, and Preacher huddled together at a spot with a clear view of the front of the jail, aided by the use of binoculars. The day passed slowly and Heyes saw nothing to suggest an impending transfer.
"Don't think it's gonna be tomorrow," Heyes said as evening approached. "I would guess the Sheriff would be going over plans with the escorts. Train leaves at eleven tomorrow. If nothing's happened by then, I don't see a need to keep watching all day, but we'll start at sunrise on Tuesday again."
"Maybe somebody should be keeping an eye on the back of the jail, Heyes. Kid might try to give us a sign through the window to let us know what day he's going," Wheat suggested.
Heyes could see the logic in Wheat's statement. Kid would likely try to get word to them. "I need Preacher here so he can get the men moving to Deadman's Pass as soon as we know. I want you here too, Wheat. You got a sharp eye," Heyes told him.
"Kyle?" Wheat asked and Heyes looked skeptical.
"Better than nobody at all," Wheat argued. "You know he means well, Heyes, and he's always trying to find a way to appease... I mean please you."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. You go tell him, and let him know the kind of things Kid might do to get a message to us."
"Right," Wheat said and started to stand, then stooped back down beside Heyes. "What kind of things?"
"I don't know, Wheat! Maybe... stick his hand out the window or... tie his bandanna to the bars... just anything that might be taken as a sign. Kid knows we're planning to get him from the train. If he knows when he's going, he'll find a way to let us know if he can."
"Right, a hand or a bandanna" Wheat replied and got up to go find Kyle.
"Wheat," Heyes called after him. "Don't limit it to those two things. Otherwise Kyle might miss the signal."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Monday morning passed at the same slow pace as Sunday with nothing out of the ordinary happening. By afternoon, some of the gang were beginning to grow restless. By late afternoon, they all began migrating back to the spot where they had made camp.
"Maybe dynamite wouldda made the job quicker," Kyle said, his tone more speculative than defiant.
"Kyle, Heyes is right. They got men posted on top of near every building. Somebody would see us planting dynamite behind the jail. Frankly I'm surprised we ain't already been spotted," Wheat told him.
Dejected, Kyle dropped his head and scuffed his foot.
"Ah, he don't mean nothing, Wheat. He's just trying to be helpful," Heyes replied and Kyle raised his head and smiled. "Maybe it'll happen tomorrow," Heyes said wistfully.
As luck would have it, Tuesday was very informative. Kyle had moved to his watch spot just before sunrise and as the sun brightened the sky, Kyle saw Kid's blue bandanna lying in the dirt just outside Kid's cell window. Kyle smiled and rushed back to tell Heyes.
"Preacher, gather the boys and be on your way. It's almost five hours till the train leaves the station. You fellas should have plenty of time to derail the tracks. Kyle, you done good. Real good," Heyes told them.
Heyes and Wheat continued to watch the jail entrance, counting only two extra men going inside. Heyes smiled. "This should be a piece of cake," he proclaimed.
"Piece of cake uh? When was the last time any of our plans were as smooth as a piece a cake?" Wheat grumbled.
"Don't go getting proddy, Wheat."
0-0-0-0-0-0-
"We can't handcuff him, Sheriff. He won't be able to use them crutches if we do," Deputy Perkins said as he stood near Kid's cell, studying the prisoner who was now standing in the center of the cell feeling like a horse on an auction block as he held his right leg inches from the ground and leaned heavily on the crutches.
"Can't bind his ankles for the same reason," Deputy Scott added.
"Well it ain't like I can outrun you fellas," Kid said sarcastically.
Sheriff Calhoun sighed as he too studied the prisoner. "Well, I suppose we can tie him at the waist and keep a good hold on the loose end."
"I ain't a longhorn steer, Sheriff. You sound like you want to rope me for brandin'"
"I think that happens once you get to prison," Deputy Scott said in a whispered tone.
Kid shot him his most threatening look. "That ain't the least bit funny," Kid growled.
All the lawmen simply ignored Kid's comments as none had any interest in the outlaw's ideas or opinions.
The front door opened and Doctor Fletcher walked in with his medical bag.
"This mean I can go sit down now, Sheriff?' Kid asked. "I mean you wouldn't want me darting outta that door when you unlock it."
"You can sit down now, son," the Sheriff said and motioned for the doctor to follow him to the cell door that he then unlocked to let the doctor slip inside.
"The thing that puzzles me the most is that none of his people tried to bust him outta here," Calhoun said to his deputies as he locked the cell door.
"Well, once we're on that train, we should be safe," Deputy Scott said.
Sheriff Calhoun chuckled. "Don't be so sure of that notion. That Devil's Hole Gang has held up their share of trains. I wouldn't put nothing past em."
Kid sat down on the edge of the bed and Doctor Fletcher set to work removing the stitches and further splinting the leg.
"Sheriff, even I don't expect no one to come busting me out. There ain't no way in hell I can climb up on a horse, and if anyone in that gang saw me fall, they know I'm more trouble than I'm worth."
"That's funny, being as you're worth ten thousand dollars, boy," the Sheriff said.
"Uh-uh. And how much got stolen from the bank? A sight more than ten thousand." Kid replied.
Calhoun chuckled. "I guess I see your point. Ten thousand is just pocket change to the Devil's Hole gang right now. But I always thought you and Heyes was tight."
"Tight when the going's good. Ain't none of us worth risking our lives for."
"If that's true, you really are a sorry bunch," Calhoun replied.
"There, I'm finished," Dr. Fletcher said as he pulled the last stitch from Kid's leg. "Looks like it's holding together nicely. Just don't go doing anything strenuous. I don't want you pulling that scar apart."
Kid's tone changed when he spoke to the doctor. "I do want to thank you, doctor. You took good care of me, in spite of getting me drunk on that medicine the first night."
"Well, it shut you up enough that everyone could get a good night sleep," the doctor replied with a grin.
Kid nodded and smiled with some hindsight amusement. "I guess you're right about that."
Sheriff Calhoun carried a long rope with a very wide noose at one end and he unlocked the cell door to let the doctor out as he slipped into the cell. "You boys hold a gun on him while I get this rope around his waist," he told the deputies being as the cell door was currently unlocked.
Kid sighed heavily and shook his head. "Like taken a dog for a walk," he grumbled as he raised his arms in the air so the Sheriff could slip the noose over Kid's head and down to his waist.. "Don't give me an ounce of dignity."
"Shouldda thought of that before you robbed the bank too," Calhoun replied. "You boys ready?" he called to the deputies.
"Yeah, we're ready."
"On your foot, son," the Sheriff told Kid.
Kid reached for the crutches and pulled himself up while the Sheriff wound up the loose end of the rope, giving Kid about three feet of slack.
With Deputy Scott leading the way, followed by Kid with a noose around his waist and hobbling on crutches, then Sheriff Calhoun holding a tight grip on the loose end of the rope, and Deputy Perkins bringing up the rear, they made their way slowly along the boardwalk of Main Street to the train station. Kid kept his eyes on the ground, in part to watch his footing, but primarily to avoid the eyes of onlookers.
Many people were already on the train when Kid and the two deputies entered the passenger car. The aisle was too narrow for Kid to use the crutches, so he handed them to the deputy behind him and held on to the back of the seats to make his way down the aisle, all the while keeping his right knee bent and his right foot off the ground.
"Down to them seats marked reserved," Deputy Perkins told him.
As he made his way down the aisle, Kid spied Heyes, Wheat, Lobo, and Chuck Brady scattered among the passengers. He offered no sign of recognition, keeping a well practiced poker face. Kid carefully slid into one of the two seats marked reserved and leaned against the window. One deputy sat down beside Kid while the other sat down across from him.
"Hold your hands out," Perkins told Kid.
"Handcuffs? I can't jump a train that's standing still with this leg. I ain't about to try jumping a moving one!" Kid protested and raised his leg to rest his foot on the opposite seat.
"Protocol," the deputy replied as he reached for Kid's arms and snapped the handcuffs on Kid's wrists. All they while Kid sat shaking his head in disgusted disbelief, while knowing this would only complicate his assisted escape.
Once the train started out, Kid looked out the window. After a few short miles, and still feeling disgruntled, Kid decided the deputies could use a bit of irritation and he began singing.
"I'm a poor lonesome cowboy. I'm a poor lonesome cowboy...This went on for well over half an hour and was loud enough for all the passengers on the train to hear.
Deputy Perkins leaned close to Kid and spoke in a calm voice of authority. "This trip is eighteen hours long and if you don't stop howling like a cat in heat, you ain't gonna make it to Laramie alive."
Kid stopped singing but looked indignant. But he stopped singing and entertained himself by looking at the other passengers in the car. His eyes fell upon an older, somewhat stout woman tearing a page from a magazine. Moments later the woman stood and made her way back to where Kid and the deputies were sitting.
"I suppose you're wondering what an old woman from Boston is doing way out her in the west."
"Ma'am, have we met before?" Kid asked "Maybe on another train?"
The woman smiled but shook her head. "I'm sure I'd remember a nice fine looking young man like you. Of course my memory isn't as good as it use to be."
"Ma'am, this is a prisoner you're talking to," Deputy Perkins said. "Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your seat."
"Oh, I will. I will. It's just that, well I, and the other passengers, all heard your rather off key warbling and... well singing does not appear to be one of your finer talents."
"Well now wait just a minute, Ma'am. This just ain't been one of my better days."
"I'm sure," she replied with a smile. "Bu I saw this in a magazine I was reading and I think this might be the answer to your problem," she said, holding the page out to Kid.
Kid raised handcuffed hands to take the page. "What's this, Ma'am? Some kind of religious tract?"
"No, young man, read it."
"How to sing your way through tone deafness in twelve easy lessons you can do in the privacy of your own home."
Both the deputies snickered loudly. Kid looked up at the old woman with a puzzled expression, but nearly everyone in the passenger car began laughing and clapping. Kid's expression turned to pure indignation, but he remained polite as usual. "Thank you, Ma'am."
The old woman smiled at him and returned to her seat.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
As the train approached Deadman's Pass it began slowing down noticeably. Heyes and Wheat both got up from their seats and made their way toward the back of the car where Kid was sitting with the two deputies. Just as they passed the seat, both Heyes and Wheat pulled their guns and aimed them at the two deputies.
"Your guns, gentlemen," Heyes said to the two startled deputies while a grand smile spread across Kid's face.
"My partner, Hannibal Heyes," Kid explained to the deputies as they and both slowly and cautiously pulled their guns and handed them over to the two outlaws.
Wheat cleared his voice indignantly.
"Oh, and Wheat Carlson, gentlemen," Kid said and Wheat gave him a satisfied nod.
A murmur began filling the car as passengers began noticing the activity ensuing between the three outlaws and the two deputies, but Lobo and Chuck both stood with guns in hand and instructed everyone to remain seated and remain quiet.
"Now, if you'll remove the handcuffs from my partner, please," Heyes said with a smile.
Kid held out his hands while Perkins unlocked the hand cuffs. Kid then stood and scooted on one foot out into the aisle.
"If you gentlemen would each hold out your right arm," Heyes instructed them, and each complied while Heyes fastened the handcuffs.
Heyes reached for the set of crutches but Kid shrugged. "Aisle's too narrow.," he explained. "Just bring em with you."
"What are you planning to do, Kid, hop down the aisle?" Wheat asked, somewhat amused at the prospect.
"Well, I guess if that's what I gotta do," Kid said indignantly and tried, unsuccessfully to shimmy himself behind Wheat to move toward the door.
"Aw, hell, Heyes, this is gonna take all day, and we ain't got all day!" Wheat exclaimed, then turned to face Kid,
"I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Wheat," Kid said in a sarcastic tone. "You know if you had come back for me like you shouldda, we wouldn't be going through all this!"
"That's it," Wheat announced and grabbed Kid about the hips and hoisted him up and over his shoulder, Kid's splinted leg sticking straight out in the air. "You commin?" Wheat asked Heyes.
Kid's head popped up and he glared at Heyes who stood open mouthed staring at Kid who was slung over Wheat's shoulder like a sack of beans. "You gonna do something about this? I've had just about all the humiliation I'm gonna take in a day!"
"That's mighty big talk for a hundred and sixty-five pound gimp with no gun," Wheat snarled back at him. "Heyes, this ain't no bag of feathers, now come on!"
Still stunned, Heyes turned to Lobo and Chuck. "You two stay here with the passengers till I come and tell you we're ready," he ordered, then turned and hurried own the aisle to catch up to Wheat and a squirming Kid.
"Wheat, what are you're doing!" Kid shouted as Wheat turned the corner to climb down the steps and Kid's broken leg nearly struck Heyes in the jaw. "Wheat, you almost hit Heyes!" Kid shouted.
"Shut up and stop squirming or we're both gonna fall down these steps," Wheat shouted back.
Heyes grabbed Kid's flailing arms in an attempt to steady him and Wheat bounced him down the three steps and carried him up the stone embankment.
"Gonna put you down now, Kid," Wheat said.
"Wheat, be careful of that leg," Heyes cautioned.
Wheat set Kid down surprisingly gently, and Heyes handed Kid his crutches.
"So what now, Heyes. You've obvious done a swell job planning this. In case you haven't noticed, I can't get on a horse! What am I supposed to do, walk back to Devil's Hole?" Kid shouted.
"Would you shut up! At least you're not going to prison."
"Likely still am at this rate, Heyes. Why didn't you bring a wagon?!"
"For your information, Kid, a wagon can't outrun a posse!"
"A posse? Out here in the middle of nowhere? Oh, that's brilliant, Heyes. That's just brilliant!"
"Will you two shut up and think!" Wheat shouting, surprising even himself with the level of authority in his voice.
All the gang members, with the exception of Lobo and Chuck, gathered around the three bickering men to see what all the shouting was about.
Heyes sighed heavily as he tried to come up with a way to get Kid, with his leg in a splint, onto his chestnut.
"What you got around your waist, Kid?' Kyle asked with the innocence of a child.
"If you must know, it's my dog leash, Kyle!" Kid snapped.
Kyle was oblivious to Kid's short temper. "Looks more like a noose to me. Heyes, I think I got an idea as to how to get the Kid on his horse."
Heyes bit his lip and looked skeptically, first at Wheat, and then at Kid."What's your idea, Kyle?" he asked cautiously.
Kyle pointed to a large oak tree with large, thick, low hanging branches. "If we was to swing the loose end of that rope over that branch, we can hoist Kid up in the air and then back his horse right under him."
"Oh, no you don't," Kid protested. "You ain't hanging me up like a side of beef. Heyes, there's gotta be another way!"
Heyes and Wheat both studied the tree as well as the rope still fastened around Kid's waist.
"You know, Heyes, I think Kyle's right. I think that'll work just fine." Wheat said.
"Fine my ass!" Kid protested."I ain't getting strung up a tree!"
Heyes studied the branch, then studied the rope, then studied the branch once again. He picked up the loose end of the rope and headed for the tree. Kid still tethered to the rope with the noose around his waist, had no choice but to follow if he wished to remain upright.
"Heyes, I'm telling you, you're not hanging from a tree!"
Heyes looked at the branch again and then at Kid. "I think we are, Kid," he said, and threw the rope up and over the branch. "Come on fells, I think this is gonna take all of us."
Kid frantically tried to free himself from the noose as every outlaw rushed over to grab onto the rope and lift Kid in the air with Kid squirming and screaming at them every inch of the way. Both of Kid's crutches slipped from his hands and landed with a bang on the hard ground as Kid grabbed the rope just above the noose to keep the noose from tightening about his belly. Once they had Kid dangling about twelve feet in the air, Heyes told Kyle to get Kid's horse and bring it up to stand just below Kid.
"It's a damn good thing those deputies don't have guns, Heyes, cause I'm nothing but shooting practice up here."
"You don't stop complaining and that's exactly what we'll use you for, Kid," Wheat warned.
"He looks like one of them Mexican peen-yatas," Kyle said with a smile on his face and tobacco juice dripping down his chin.
Wheat walked over to stand next to Kyle. He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. "All we need is a stick and we can see what falls outta him," Wheat added.
"Wheat," Heyes warned as they slowly lowered Kid down and on to his saddle, his broken leg protruding outward just a little.
"Alright, I'm gonna go tell Lobo and Chuck we're ready to ride," Heyes told the others. "It's only twenty miles back to Devil's Hole. By the time they get the tracks fixed and get the train to the next town, we'll all be safe and sound back at the hole. We can even go at a pace that won't be too hard on Kid."
Kid loosed the noose and slipped it off over his shoulders. Then he gathered the rope and slipped it over the horn of his saddle. "Kyle can you carry my crutches," Kid ordered and Kyle dutifully picked the crutches up off the ground..
Once everyone was saddled and ready to ride, Heyes pulled up beside Kid. "See, the plan went smoothly, Kid and you ain't going to prison."
"That remains to be seen, Heyes. Cause when we get back to Devil's Hole, I intend to put this noose to some very good use." .
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Author's Note: Thank you to Rachel K and Rachel C for their very humorous ideas, comments, and input, some of which I never would have thought of on my own!.