Shattered, Chapter 5
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Heyes raced blindly out of the courtroom and into the dusty street. Never in all his life had he ever felt the level of rage that coursed through his veins at this moment. The thought of a murderer not only walking free, but being granted the reward money just served to justify every vengeful thought that raced through his mind.
If your plan works, you just might be the genius you think you are. Heyes heard the words as clearly as if Kid were standing right beside him. He stopped right there in the middle of the street and contemplated his next move. First some whiskey, but just enough to temper his anger.
Heyes glanced down toward the saloon but he knew the circus atmosphere of the courtroom would quickly spill over into the saloon as courtroom spectators migrated there to hash out the proceedings. He needed a quiet place to consider options and tie up loose ends. Remembering the bottle of whiskey in the hotel room, Heyes changed directions and managed to reach the hotel just as the courthouse was beginning to empty
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"I ain't got no legal right but I think it would be in your best interest to stay locked up until Hannibal Heyes leaves,'' Sheriff Wilkes said as he and Rawlins walked out of the courthouse.
Eli looked at the sheriff with a cocky smirk on his face, "You're right sheriff…you ain't got no right," he said as he brushed by the sheriff. "I'm going to celebrate in every saloon in this town. And if Mister Hannibal Heyes tries anything…well you seen what happened to his partner. That one bullet made me a rich man."
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Walking into the hotel room, Heyes dropped the room key on the dresser, then walked over and sat down on his bed and immediately filled the shot glass with whiskey. As he brought the glass to his mouth, his eyes fell on the still unmade bed. Not a wrinkle had been smoothed since the moment Kid walked out of the room for the last time.
His eyes slowly moved past the bed to the nightstand where the tin of gun oil and the cleaning cloth still remaineduntouched. Heyes smiled when an obscure memory of Grandpa Curry offering one of his pearls of wisdom drifted into his mind. 'There ain't one thing in life that don't happen for a reason. Somethings takes a lifetime to figure out the reason; sometimes it just up and slaps you in the face.'
Heyes carried his drink over to the table and sat down. Setting the shot glass on the table, Heyes reached down and pulled his Schofield gun from his holster and began to disassemble the parts. Beginning with the chamber, Heyes removed all six bullets and lined them up on the table. Once all the pieces lay on the table, Heyes picked up the cloth and small tin can with a gentle reverence and he smiled, knowing how impressed Kid would have been.
An hour later, the gun put neatly back together and looking as pristine as it possibly could, Heyes looked at the six bullets on the table. He picked one up and placed it in the chamber, then reconsidered and loaded the other five as well. He carefully holstered the gun and picked up the still full shot of whiskey, satisfied that Kid would be pleased with what he had done.
Leaning back and pushing the chair up on two legs, Heyes absently pulled back the curtain and looked down at the street below. It was early evening and not yet dark. There were a few people standing outside the undertaker's business, likely hoping to catch a glimpse of the person whose demise sparked all the courtroom drama. But the building was dark and a sign in the window clearly read CLOSED in big, bold letters.
In the opposite direction and a few doors down from the hotel, Heyes watched both cowboys and businessmen going into the saloon, likely to voice their opinions of the hearing, or to tell some wild tale of a long ago encounter with the Devil's Hole gang robbing a train they had been riding. Heyes remembered reading a newspaper article a few years ago in which the reporter noted that many people thought of Heyes and Curry as latter day Robin Hoods, and he smiled as he recalled how much this had amused the Kid.
But the memory faded and Heyes leaned forward and dropped the chair back down on four legs and stared across the street when he saw Rawlins making his way down the street toward the saloon, smiling and tipping his hat at the strangers he passed. Heyes fought an impulse to go down to the saloon and end Rawlins' life right then and there, but he reminded himself that was not his plan, and a Heyes plan, once finalized, was always successful at least nine times out of ten.
So, instead of a confrontation, Heyes walked over to the table and refilled his shot glass before he returned to the chair by the window to watch how the evening progressed.
As midnight approached and Heyes finished his third shot of whiskey, he let the curtain drop back into place and stood in the dark room to unfasten his gunbelt. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but the whiskey had given him a level of calmness he hadn't known for days and he'd decided he would at least rest in bed with a good book for a couple of hours.
But a sudden loud ruckus outside drew him back to the window and he threw back the curtain just in time to see Sheriff Wilkes and a deputy dragging the loudly protesting Rawlins out of the saloon.
"A man's got a right to celebrate!" Rawlins was shouting as he tried unsuccessfully to pull free of the long arms of the law.
"Celebrating is one thing. Shootin' up a saloon is another," Wilkes told him. "You're spending the night in a cell to sober up, you dang fool."
For the first time in a week, Heyes found himself laughing, not only out loud, but with a hardy amount of pleasure as he moved to the other side of the window to take in the entire tirade that continued all the way to the Sheriff's office.
"Ah, revenge is sweet, Kid," Heyes declared to the empty bed beside him.
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Heyes was up early the next morning, as he headed for the telegraph office and then to the livery. He spoke briefly to the hotel clerk and handed him some money before making one final stop. He knocked and rattled the handle of the undertaker's door. The business had not yet opened for the day, but in his line of business, the undertaker was use to disruptions at at all hours of the day and night.
"What can I do for you Mr. Heyes?" the undertaker asked as he opened the door, still dressed in his night shirt.
"I know it's early and I apologize," Heyes told him. "But if you don't mind, I need to see... I need to see Mr. Curry before you nail up the casket for traveling."
"How soon do plan to be leaving?" the undertaker asked "I thought you weren't leaving till tomorrow."
"I'm not but I've some other matters to tend to today, so if you don't mind..."
Again, quite use to odd requests from bereaved people, the undertaker opened the door wide to grant Heyes entrance. "This way," he said and led Heyes down a narrow hall to a small room. "The casket is open. I'll give you some time alone while I dress," he said and pushed the door ajar. "There's an oil lamp and matches on the table to the right of the door."
Heyes waited until he had disappeared down the hall, then gently opened the door. The windowless room was pitch black and Heyes used the dim light from the hallway to locate the oil lamp and matches.
He carried the softly lighted lamp across the room where the casket rested on the catafalque. Next to the head of the casket was a small table where Heyes rested the lamp.
He gazed down at the lifeless body of Jed Curry, the gold coins still resting on his now sunken eyes. He reached into the casket and brushed a lock of hair from Kid's forehead.
"Won't be much longer now, Kid. I got everything planned down to the last detail, and you know what a stickler I am for details. We'll be heading home tomorrow, you and me. Then no more running for either of us. Just peace and quiet. I won't expect you to be watching my back today, in fact I insist that you don't. But I do expect you to be on time waiting for me when I get there. That's all I have to tell you. You be waiting, you hear me?"
Heyes picked up the lamp and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
"I'll be leaving now," he called to the undertaker. "You can get him readied anytime."
Heyes snuffed the lamp and set it on a table, then walked out of the building and headed back to the hotel.
Returning to the hotel room, Heyes reached into his pocket for the room key and felt the wadded up telegram the governor had sent him. He unlocked the door, walked into the room, kicked the door shut with his boot, and pulled the crumpled paper from his pocket. He started to unfold it, then stopped suddenly when he realized there was nothing the governor could say to change what happened.
He crumpled the paper once again and started to toss it onto the dresser when he spied the amnesty papers he had placed therewhen the sheriff had slid them under the door. A broad smile crossed his face and he walked across the room and pulled the empty chamber pot from under Kid's bed.
He carried the chamber pot to the dresser and used his arm to sweep the dresser clean save for the amnesty and the telegram, both of which he dropped unceremoniously into the brass bowl. The he pulled a match from the matchbox and struck it against the sole of his boot. Raising the match above the chamber pot, Heyes released the match from his fingers and watched it fall against the papers that then caught the flame and slowly burned the papers to ashes. "To hell with the whole lot of it," Heyes said feeling a sense of true freedom for the first time in his life.
He walked back to the table by the window and pulled back the curtain before settling into the chair...
And he waited.
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Sheriff Wilkes walked into the office and reached for the keys to the cell. Eli Rawlins jumped off the cot and grabbed the bars, eagerly waiting to be released.
"I think it would be in your best interest to stay another night or two…"
"And why in the hell would I want to do that?"
The sheriff lowered his head and shook it.
"If I have to explain it to you…Go out there and get your dang fool head shot off. No skin off my back."
"Ain't it your job to protect your citizens?"
"A man can only do so much."
The sheriff dangled the keys in front of Eli.
"Your decision boy."
"Ain't no decision to be made. Get me the hell outta here."
It seemed like mere minutes before a man poked his head in the sheriff's office and yelled:
"SHERIFF! YOU 'D BETTER COME OUT HERE QUICK!"
He left the door open before running towards the ever growing crowd of people gathering in front of store fronts. Their focus was on two men standing alone in the street.
When Heyes saw Eli leaving the sheriff's office, he quickly grabbed his hat off the bed. He silently laughed. A cowboy hat on a bed was regarded as bad luck. He gave the room a quick look, satisfied everything was packed and in order. He drew in a deep breath, while he readjusted his hat and headed out the door.
"You calling me out?" Eli yelled at Heyes.
"Nope. I ain't calling you out. I'm giving you the same chance you gave my partner." Heyes said as he cocked the hammer.
Heyes saw Eli's eyes widen in fright, "Well that ain't fair!"
"Probably not…but obviously this has never been about fairness."
Heyes waited until he heard someone approaching from behind him.
"You don't want to do this son," Sheriff Wilkes said, his tone low and even. Heyes
waited until he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun clearing a leather holster and a hammer being drawn back.
"Yeah I do."
"You know…If you kill him…I'm going to have to kill you."
"I know," Heyes said with a smile as he pulled the trigger.
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Epilogue:
Lom looked at the telegram in disbelief and sadness. He had read it over and over again, not believing the words he was reading. Who would have ever thought it would have ended like this? The Porterville paper still sat on the corner of his desk with the headline in bold print: KID CURRY DEAD. He hadn't believed it…couldn't believe it…until he received the telegram from Heyes.
Lom by the time you read this I'll be with Kid. Asking one last favor. Take us home to Devil's Hole.
One day later, Lom Trevers arrived in Greeley driving a buckboard that he brought to a halt outside the mortician's office. Immediately after receiving Heyes' telegram, Lom had sent his own telegram to Sheriff Wilkes and received a reply confirming what he had already known had happened. He then dashed off a second telegram, hoping it would reach the intended person on time.
He had traveled most of the night, arriving in Greeley mid afternoon exhausted and grief stricken, and not wearing his badge. He made a brief stop inside the undertaker's parlor to explain who he was and what he was doing, then headed to the livery to collect thetwo horses.
"Yeah, Heyes stopped in yesterday morning and paid the bill," the man at the livery told Lom as he saddled the black and the sorrel, then handed off the horses to Lom.
Lom walked the horses to the undertaker's and tied them to the post, then went back inside when Sheriff Wilkes and two of his deputies were there to offer their assistance. Together the five men loaded the two coffins onto the buckboard.
"I've got some personal things inside," the mortician said and disappeared back into the building.
"Damn waste, if you ask me," Sheriff Wilkes told Lom. "Especially being as they had gotten those amnesties."
Lomnodded, but didn't reply. He had no intention of discussing the Kid or Heyes with strangers.
"I think the thing that sent Heyes there over the edge was the fact the judge awarded Eli Rawlins the reward money."
"Both these men were friends so, if you don't mind, Sheriff, I'm here to tend to the business at hand, not drag anybody's name through the mud," Lom told him.
"I understand. I didn't mean no disrespect."
The undertaker reappeared with the items that had been collected at the hotel, as well as both Kid and Heyes' hats, and the Kid's sherpa. He started to load the things in the back of the wagon with the caskets, but Lom stopped him.
"I'll be taking these," Lom said, reaching for the two hats.
Once everything was in the buckboard, Lom tied the black horse to the back of the wagon, then secured the stampede strings on Kid's hat over the saddle horn. He returned for the sorrel, securing the black, tattered hat to the saddle horn.
"Thank you all for your help," he added, then climbed into the seat of the buckboard and urged the horses on their way.
Six miles out of town, near a fork in the road, Lom brought the buckboard to a halt and waited. It wasn't long before eight men and a spare, saddled horse, emerged from the a clump of trees. Lom took a long look at each man, recognizing a few. His eyes rested on a small, scruffy, blond man chewing a wad of tobacco. His face was puffy and his eyes were red and his cheeks had streaks where his tears had washed away the dirt. Lom recognized him as Kyle Murtry
"They wanted to be buried at Devil's Hole," Lom told the apparent leader.
Wheat Carlson urged his horse and the spare horse forward, taking note that the man driving the wagon had kept his word and was not wearing a badge.
Lom climbed out of the wagon and Wheat dismounted, handed his own horse off to Kyle, then handed Lom the reins of the spare horse. "They always said for a lawman, you was a descent sort," Wheat told him, then took a long look at the contents of the buckboard before climbing into the driver's seat.
Lom mounted the horse and gathered the reins and backed the horse off to the side of the road. Wheat shook the buckboard's reins and the wagon, as well as the entire Devil's Hole gang started a slow procession down the road. Lom sat still in his saddle watching the entourage grow distant.
Two hats resting on riderless horses.
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Author's Notes: We knew going into this story that readership would be limited, simply because many would likely focus on the major character death(s). But the true intention of the story was twofold. The first was to show just how deeply rooted the bond was between these two men, a bond that could not be broken even in death. The second was to determine if there was a point of no return for Heyes. Could the circumstances of Kid's death be so pointless and unnecessary as to drive Heyes to make the decision to join Kid rather than go on? Was the bond so tightly woven between them that life itself took second place to the alternative? Unfortunately, we concluded the answer to these questions was a resounding yes. To those who did read this, we thank you. To those who did not, we understand.