Thievery

Just a tale of a few shot days in the lives of Heyes and Curry

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Kid Curry slept peacefully, his knees drawn up slightly as he nestled beneath the blankets. The cold mountain air did not disturb him as he had carefully trenched the ground the night before, layered hot coals and dried leaves, then covered the thermal source of warmth with dirt. He slept on the ground because the cabin, some two hundred feet away lay in ashen ruins, having burned to the ground, along with much of the forest, the effects of a lightening strike some two months ago. The smell of burnt wood still lingered in the air. But neither Kid nor Heyes had been aware of this devastation when the agreed to split up and meet at this location just three days ago.

Kid was startled awake quickly at the sound of a rifle being cocked and he instinctively started for his gun.

"Wouldn't do that if I was you," the man holding the rifle told him.

Kid stopped and instead, propped himself on his elbow to look at the three men, the one with the rifle hovering over him.

"What are you doing here?" the man holding the rifle asked.

This man, dressed in tattered and torn black pants, and an old bear skin jacket, chewed a wad of tobacco between brown stained, broken teeth. The sole of his left boot flapped as he moved several steps to his right, all the while keeping the gun pointed at Kid. The man's face bore the stubble of several day's growth.

"Just passing through," Kid replied.

"That your place?" the man asked, nodding toward the remains of the cabin.

"No," Kid replied, shaking his head. The man gave his head a jerk and his two companions walked up to stand beside him.

"Get up," the man instructed.

Kid slowly, cautiously pulled himself to his feet. "I've got nothing worth taking," he told them with his hands raised in a display of surrender.

The man gave his head a second jerk and the two men grabbed Kid by each arm and shoved him against the trunk of a tree. Kid started to offer some resistance but the third man aimed the rifle directly at Kid's head.

Kid was tied to the tree trunk with a rope wrapped about his waist three times, then tied securely to the back of the tree, out of his reach.

"What do you want from me?" Kid demanded. "I told you, I've got nothing!"

The man uncocked the rifle and leaned it against another tree. Then he walked over to where Kid had been sleeping and picked up the gun and holster. "I wouldn't say you got nothing," the man said, then picked up the two blankets Kid had been using.

Kid saw the man's eyes turn towards Kid's horse.

"You can't leave me out here without a horse, without a gun," Kid said with irate anger in his voice.

"You're forgetting Mister, I can leave you out here dead if I've a mind to," he said with a sharp Ozarks twang to his words.

"You're gonna leave me out here tied up like this?"

"Yup."

"There's bears and wildcats out here!"

"Better work at freeing yourself quick, then," the man said and spit tobacco juice at Kid's feet. "Skeeter, I bet them boots would fit me just fine," he said, and the two other men moved in closer to take Kid's boots.

Kid squirmed and kicked until one of the men landed a hard fisted punch in Kid's stomach and Kid gasped as his torso leaned forward as much as the ropes would allow. One of the men grabbed Kid's pants and lifted his leg to pull off the boot. Then the other man did the same with the other boot. The first man then quickly removed his boots and shoved his feet into Kid's boots.

"Don't worry boy, I'll leave you mine," the man said with a sneering laugh as he walked over and untied Kid's horse. He mounted the chestnut and waited for his partners to mount their horses. Then he rode over to his own horse and gathered the reins "No sense leaving this one here for the bears," he said and turned and slowly rode away, the other two men following in line.

Kid was consumed with frustrated anger as he twisted and squirmed to free himself from the ropes. It took nearly and hour, but once free, Kid picked up the end of the rope and began unwinding a long piece. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocket knife and cut off the end of the rope he had unraveled. Then, out of necessity against the cold, Kid shoved his feet into the boots and wrapped the string around the boot and the sole, tying it off to keep the sole from flapping.

It was no more than two hours Kid had been accosted that Hyes arrived, looking quite perplexed at the burnt cabin and trees, as well as the state of his partner; Kid's gun, boots, and holster all obviously absent.

"What happened?" Heyes asked without bothering to dismount.

"Two hours, Heyes. If you'd shown up just two hours ago!"

"You were robbed?"

"Right down to my boots! We're going after them!"

"Sure, Kid...Who?"

"How the hell do I know! There were three of em. One one was called Skeeter!"

"And they stole your boots?"

Kid lifted his foot bearing the tattered boot with the string securing the sole. "Heyes," he said pointing to the boot with one finger. "Them is the leader's boots!"

Heyes looked up at his surroundings. "What happened to the cabin?"

"I set it on fire to keep warm," Kid said sarcastically as he climbed up behind Heyes on the sorrel.

"And the whole forest too? You should be more careful with fire, Kid."

"And you should be more careful with your comments, Heyes. I don't got a gun, but I got easy access to yours from here."

Heyes sighed. "Sorry, Kid. Which way did they go?"

Kid pointed off in the direction they had gone. "They should be easy to track in this ash. They're traveling with four horses."

"How much of a lead do they have?"

"Ain't you been listening? Two hours, Heyes."

Heyes rolled his eyes, thankful that Kid was sitting behind him and could not see his reaction. He gave his sorrel an encouraging nudge and they started on their way.

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Four hours later the trail had led them to the tiny town of Dover. Not seeing any horses on the street, they went first to the livery and sure enough, Kid's chestnut was in a stall contentedly eating from a feed bag.

"Kid, you can't steal that horse, even if he does belong to you," Heyes whispered.

One side of Kid's upper lip raised as he gave Heyes a glaring look. "You know where the man is that rode in on this horse?' Kid asked the livery man.

"Sorry, didn't pay no attention to where they was going."

"Well, thanks anyway," Kid replied. "Come on," he snarled to his partner.

Walking out into the street, Kid stopped short. "Heyes, give me your gun belt," he said urgently

"Why?"

"Cause I don't want to feel nekked when I get my things back. Now hand it over!"

Heyes quickly unfastened his gun belt and handed it to Kid who struggled to clasp it on at the second notch. "Geeze, Heyes, put some weight on!" Kid grumbled

Again Heyes rolled his eyes. "Where are you going?"

"Well, they didn't look like that had more than a nickle between, so I figure they headed to the saloon rather than to the hotel," Kid replied and and began walking with as much purpose and confidence as the sole flapping boot would allow.

Walking into the saloon, Kid spied the three men sitting at a table, all foolishly sitting with their backs to the doors.

Kid approached the table and stopped. "Well, I guess we meet again," he said in his most intimidating outlaw voice.

The man wearing Kid's boots reached for his gun, but of course, Kid was faster and the man froze, knowing he was now at Kid's mercy.

"I think you have a few things that belong to me," Kid said, still holding his gun aimed toward the man. "The gun belt first, then the boots."

The man slowly removed the gun belt and held it out for Kid.

"Mr. Smith, would you mind?" Kid asked, and Heyes reached across the table and gathered the gun belt and gun.

"Now the boots."

The man bent down and removed the boots, leaving them neatly on the floor."

"Pick em up."

The man picked up the boots and held them in his hands.

"Mr. Smith?" Kid said and Heyes gave him a slightly perturbed expression, but gathered the boots as well.

"Now all I need is a bill of sale for my horse and gear."

The man looked at Kid somewhat dumbfounded as he certainly did not carry a pencil or paper in pocket.

Kid looked at Heyes whose mouth and shoulders drooped simultaneous. "Why do I have to do everything?"

When Kid glowered at him again, Heyes frowned, shook his head, but headed to the bar for the items.

As the man scribbled out the bill of sale, Heyes noticed one of the other men carefully scrutinizing him. Heyes gave the man the same look in return as he suddenly recognized the man.

"Hey, you're Skeeter Jenkins," Heyes announced.

Kid gave Heyes a quick double take. "You know him?"

Heyes shook his head. "Know of him." Heyes then turned to the man Kid had been dealing with. "That must make you Puck Dobbs, and you must be Stubby Wilson."

"Who are they?' Kid asked.

"They're part of a gang not far from St Louis, near the Ozarks... What's the name of your gang?" Heyes asked.

All three of the men looked nervously around the bar but thankfully it was sparsely populated and no one was paying any attention to them. None offered the name of their gang.

"And I know who you are," Skeeter said. "You're..."

"That's enough talking," Kid said, returning to the use of his threatening voice. "You can pick up your boots at the livery," Kid told them. "I'd advise you boys to sit still and enjoy your beers for the next half hour. You try to follow us... Well, you'll wish you hadn't. Understood?"

All three men nodded and Kid holstered his gun as he and Heyes backed out of the bar.

As soon as they were outside, they made a bee line for the livery, showed the livery man the bill of sale, then mounted their horses and raced out of town.

"They're part of a gang, Heyes?" Kid shouted as they quickly distanced themselves from the town.

"Yeah, wonder what they're doing in Wyoming?" Heyes shouted.

"Don't think I want to hang around to find out."

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Two nights later Heyes and Curry were camped in a quiet, secluded spot near a creek when Kid heard the snapping of a twig. He nervously got up and moved away from the fire, giving Heyes a communicative nod. Once Kid was hidden in the woods, Heyes assumed as relaxed of an appearance as he could muster and waited for whatever was to follow.

Skeeter, Puck, and Stubby walked cautiously into the clearing and waited for Heyes to look up from his coffee.

"Where's your partner?" Puck asked.

"Oh, geeze, not again," Kid said as he entered the clearing with his gun drawn. "I told you fellas not to follow us. Now I'm going to hafta kill you," he lied.

All three men raised their hands in surrender.

"We didn't come here for no trouble. We got... a question to ask you boys."

"Toss your guns over to my partner, then we'll listen to what you have to say," Kid told them.

Each man slowly lifted his gun from his holster and tossed it to the ground near Heyes.

"You fellas want some coffee?" Heyes asked, and it was Kid's turn to look dumbfounded.

"You're inviting em to sit down like company?" he asked.

"Well, they ain't armed, and they said they just want to ask a question."

Kid shook his head as he holstered his gun and approached the fire.

The three men sat down on the ground near the fire but waved off the offer of coffee.

"So, what's your question?" Heyes asked.

"Well, Skeeter here says you are Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes. Is that right?" Puck asked.

"Why?" Kid asked defensively.

"We heard a rumor that you two have gone straight and... well me and the boys is trying to do that, too."

"By robbing people of their horses, gun, and boots?" Kid asked.

"Well we're right sorry about that. If we had known who you was, we never would have done that."

Kid rolled his eyes and shook his head, then took a sip of his coffee.

"How do you go about doing that?" Puck asked.

"Well, the best way to go straight is to not commit no crimes," Kid replied.

Heyes smiled. "What my friend means is that, here in Wyoming, the governor has a program that offers outlaws the chance to earn what's called an amnesty. A person has to live on the right side of the law for a period of time and, eventually the governor decides to drop all the charges against a person."

"Just in Wyoming? We ain't committed no crimes in Wyoming."

"Except armed robbery," Kid mumbled.

"You'll have to find out if Missouri has an amnesty program. In order to do that, you're going to need a sponsor...Are you friends with any lawmen?"

Puck's head jerked back at such a ludicrous question. "We're outlaws. We ain't on good terms with any lawmen," he replied.

"Then you're gonna hafta find some one else to act as your sponsor. Maybe a minister or a priest. Someone who, legally don't have to divulge information like where you are."

"Yeah, I think priests takes a vow of no divulgence," Kid added quite seriously.

"Those are monks and it's a vow of silence, which is not what we're talking about," Heyes corrected. "And for your information, 'divulgence' isn't even a word," he added with a bit of irritation in his voice.

"And I thought you was the reader," Kid mumbled in reply and drank some more of his coffee.

"Anyway, this sponsor is the person you'll need to go talk to the governor on your behalf, to see if you qualify for the amnesty program."

"What if we don't qualify?"

Heyes frowned. "Then you have two choices. You can give yourselves up and serve your time, or you could leave the country till the statute of limitations runs out."

"You ever kill anybody?" Kid asked.

All three shook their heads.

"Good, cause I don't think the statue of limitations ever runs out on killing someone."

"Statute," Heyes said, correcting Kid's pronunciation..

"That's what I said. 'Statue.'"

"Stat-chew-t, Stat-chew-t" Heyes snarled with exasperation.

Kid's mouth slowly stretched into a wide and amused grin. "You sound like you're sneezing over there."

Heyes admitted defeat with a shake of his head and a quick sigh. "The point is, this sponsor has to be willing to be in it for the long haul. Getting amnesty takes a long time."

"About as long as the sentences on your head and no advantages like hot meals and a bed to sleep in every night like a prison provides," Kid added, then looked over at Heyes. "You can't argue that point, Joshua."

"Your using your real names now?" Skeeter asked and Heyes and Kid exchanged wary glances. "I mean I always figured Kid and Hannibal was made up outlaw names to protect your families."

"Why would you think that?" Heyes asked, feeling a bit indignant.

"Well, Kid is a pretty common nick name, what with Billy the Kid, and Kid Carson..."

Kid gave Heyes a slanted eye look, but Heyes refrained from correcting Skeeter.

"And I doubt there's a mother on this earth that would allow her son to be baptized as Hannibal Heyes. That just sounds like a name made up so people would remember it, like some of them famous singers and circus folks."

Kid spewed his mouthful of coffee into the fire, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he raised just his eyes to look at his indignant partner. "Sorry, too hot," he offered as a feeble explanation. "I guess they are a pretty smart bunch, Joshua."

"Ain't it dangerous going by your real names while you're still wanted?"

"Well, 'cept nobody but the three of you know them's our real names," Kid said as he could plainly see Heyes was still grappling with the feeling of having just been verbally affronted.

Puck stood up and Skeeter and Stubby followed.

"It's getting late. S'pose we'd best be going."

"You can sleep here the night if you like," Heyes said and could feel Kid's sudden glare of disapproval.

Puck smiled. "If it won't be no trouble. Skeeter, you and Stubby go collect our horses."

Both men headed off into the woods.

"Well, I guess I'll be standing watch tonight, Joshua," Kid said. The inflection in his voice told Heyes he was being included in the responsibility.

"You take the first four hours, Thaddeus, and wake me for my watch."

"Gladly," Kid replied.

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True to his word, Heyes took the second watch, though in all honesty, he felt the watch was unnecessary. Still, he reminded himself that it was not he who had had his boots stolen right off his feet.

Kid woke the next morning to the muffled sounds of voices, and the comforting smells of coffee and hot biscuits. He opened one eye lazily and saw Heyes crouched down near the campfire, shifting the skillet of biscuits into the embers to keep them warm without burning.

"I s'pect we'll be on our way after we get some of them biscuits in our bellies," Puck told Heyes.

"You understand about getting yourself a sponsor, right?" Heyes asked.

Puck nodded confidently.

Kid threw off his blanket and sat up, rubbing the top of his head. "Breakfast ready?" he mumbled.

"Will be by the time you're ready to eat it," Heyes told him.

"Nice roasted opossum sure would compliment this meal," Skeeter added.

Kid felt a belch rising from his stomach at the thought of such a meal. "Just coffee will do fine for me," he said as he got up and headed toward the woods.

"That friend of yours sure does hold a grudge," Puck said.

"Well, stealing a man's boots is getting pretty personal," Heyes explained.

"You folks has got strange ways out here in the west."

Heyes smiled but didn't reply.

Kid took his sweet time in the woods and by the time he returned, Puck and the others had left.

"You make sure my gun and holster, and my blankets didn't just leave with him?" Kid asked.

"You know, Puck's right. You do hold a grudge, Kid. But, I'll have you know you've got some consolation."

"And what's that, Heyes?"

Heyes smiled. "We just sent them three on a wild goose chase."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because I know for a fact, Missouri has no amnesty program for criminals."

Kid smiled exuberantly and slapped Heyes on the back. "Heyes, you really are a genius!".