Facing The Demons

by JoAnnB

Kid Curry has been arrested and sentenced to hang, but Hannibal Heyes has more serious worries about his partner.

Facing the Demons

by JoAnn Baker

The dark haired cowboy sat at the small round table in the corner of the saloon. He took a sip of the whiskey he had just poured from a bottle that sat half empty in front of him. He let his eyes drift toward the poker table where a game had been going on all evening. Poker didn't interest him tonight or any other night recently. He turned his eyes next to the two swinging doors at the front of the saloon, as he had been doing all evening. He had waited in this saloon until past midnight the night before, and he was beginning to think he was going to have to wait another day—when the man he'd been expecting stepped through the doors.

The figure in the doorway surveyed the room cautiously, his eyes finally resting on a table in the corner. The man at the table poured some whiskey into a second glass that had been sitting empty. He didn't look up as the other man approached and pulled a chair up to his table.

"Thanks for coming, Lom," Heyes said, passing his guest the glass of whiskey.

Sheriff Lom Trevors studied the man across from him for a few moments before he spoke. "Heyes, I want to know what's going on." He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. "The governor wants to know what's going on," he added, giving his long-time friend a glare that demanded an answer.

"Do you know what they're saying about you two? About Curry?" Trevors closed his eyes and sighed. "Heyes, there were eye witnesses—and he isn't denying it."

Heyes' head shot up and he met the other man's eyes with a look so fierce that Trevors leaned back in his chair. "What are you saying Lom? You think he could do a thing like that?" Heyes was barely containing his anger and Trevors thought he looked close to the breaking point.

"No, of course not. That's why I don't understand why he's not defending himself. That's why I want to know what happened, what's going on?"

"I don't know, Lom," Heyes muttered miserably as he slumped down and rested his elbows on the table.

"Well let's start with where you two were when this thing in Silverton happened."

"I was up in Twin Falls," he paused and looked down, "I don't know where the Kid was."

Trevors looked back surprised. "You mean you two weren't together?"

"No," Heyes said simply, without offering any further explanation.

"Heyes," Trevors began, "if he wasn't with you, and an eyewitness places him on the train," he paused and looked pointedly at the other man. "Curry had better start talking to somebody—or he'll hang for sure. Three men killed, the passengers brutalized, one of the women…" his voice trailed off.

"I know, Lom, I know." Heyes shook his head and sighed. "I think he wants them to hang him."

Trevors stared at him with a look of shock. "You care to explain that?"

"Lom, something happened, about a month ago…"

-oooOOOooo-

One month earlier…

"Heyes, you ever think about what kinda place you want to settle down in if we ever get that amnesty?" Kid Curry looked curiously at his partner as they slowly rode into town.

"I don't know Kid, someplace with pretty women and fancy poker parlors I guess." He grinned, and then shrugged. "I figure I could win big if I didn't have to worry about being arrested or chased out of town every time someone recognizes me. Might even go to Boston or New York and see what kind of gambling they have in those big eastern cities." His face broke into a smile as he imagined the scene.

The smile faded however, when he saw the look on his partner's face. "What's wrong Kid, you look like you just lost your best friend."

Curry gave him a long-suffering look and sighed. "Come on Heyes, we both know there's only one thing I know how to do—and there won't be much call for that once we're law abiding citizens."

"Awe Kid, there are lots of things you can do. Why you could…" he paused. "You could…" He began again. "You could marry a rich girl?" He said finally, grinning broadly.

"Very funny, Heyes," Curry chided as the other man began to chuckle. They rode on silently for a few minutes, surveying the town.

Johnson's Creek appeared to be a small quiet town, with one general store, one blacksmith, two hotels and a sheriff's office. Only one saloon that they could see and further down the street they noticed a schoolhouse and church.

"Must be a lot of families living nearby. Small farms I would imagine," Heyes remarked as he glanced around.

Curry nodded and small smile crept onto his face as he watched two young boys chase each other around the corner of the general store.

Heyes looked at his partner with amusement. "Do you want to settle down in someplace like this?"

"What? No, maybe someplace like Denver, or San Francisco. Someplace with more people. Someplace that's less…" The Kid's voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.

Someplace less like home Kid? Heyes wondered as he searched his friend's face for a few moments.

"Let's find the livery," Heyes said, breaking the silence. They rode on until they came to the stable.

After getting their horses settled, they headed toward the hotel to get cleaned up before venturing out to see what sort of entertainment the town had to offer. On the way to the hotel, they saw the same two boys who had run by them on their ride in. They each carried a piece of wood whittled into the shape of a gun.

"Bang bang!" shouted a small boy with reddish brown hair and freckles. He was pointing a carved wooden gun at a slightly smaller blonde boy. They both wore overalls suited for farm work and looked between eight and nine years old."

"Bang!" the blonde boy shouted back. "I'm Kid Curry and you're dead!"

Curry's body went rigid at the use of his name. Heyes' hand went to his partner's shoulder, as much to offer support as to caution him against a rash response.

"Let it go, Kid, they're just playing, let's just go over to the hotel and get a room," Heyes said quietly.

-oooOOOooo-

An hour later, after a bath in his room, Curry was standing in the general store purchasing bullets and shaving supplies. They had left the last town without having time to go back to their room for their saddlebags.

Kid noticed the blonde boy from the street standing quietly in the corner of the store watching him. The boy walked over to the storekeeper and placed a penny down on the counter for a piece of hard candy from the big jar that was sitting near the cash register.

When Kid approached with his supplies, the boy looked down at the Colt strapped to his leg, and then up at his face. "I'm going to be a gunfighter when I grow up. My friend Billy wants to be Hannibal Heyes, but I want to be Kid Curry," he said proudly.

In another time and place Curry might have been amused, even ribbed his partner about it, but not today. He was tired out and drained from the events of the past week. They'd spent six days up in the mountains hiding out from the posse. They hadn't dared fire their guns even to shoot a rabbit, for fear of bringing the posse down on them. They'd been cold and tired and hungry.

"Why?" he asked, looking sadly at the young face beneath the long strands of blonde hair.

"Because Kid Curry is the fastest gunfighter in the west and gunfights are exciting," the boy exclaimed.

"Gunfights aren't exciting, they're scary," Curry told the boy.

"You ever been in a gunfight mister?" the boy asked, beginning to think this stranger might not be a gunfighter after all.

The former outlaw pondered his response for a moment. "Uh-huh," he said slowly, "and I hope I never have to be in another one. I have this gun for protection, not to go around getting into fights."

The boy looked at him with a disappointed look and was obviously losing interest in the conversation. "I gotta go meet Billy, see you around mister." The boy was off and out the door.

Kid watched him go and then went back to selecting his supplies. After everything had been wrapped up and paid for, he headed out with his bundle and wondered what Heyes was up to. He was deep in thought when gunshots rang out and brought him crashing back to reality. Quickly scanning the street, he deduced that the shots—five—had come from inside the bank. He also noted that at least two different guns had been fired—possibly three. Dropping the bundle, he ran toward the bank.

Looking back on the events, Kid would remember the scene that played out as if it had happened in slow motion. Each shot and movement became isolated in time and space. He slowed as he approached, cautiously watching the front door. Even as he continued toward the bank, the other bystanders on the street were running in the other direction or taking cover.

Suddenly three men, guns in hand, emerged from the entrance. The first man out the door was tall with sandy brown hair and wore a red shirt. The second, shorter dark-haired man fired a shot across the street. Kid knew that the sheriff's office was across from the bank and even though his attention was trained on the three bank robbers he knew that the sheriff or one of his deputies would be coming out of that office. The dark-haired robber didn't get a chance to fire a second shot before a bullet entered his shoulder and sent his gun to the ground. Kid sensed, rather than saw, the red shirted bandit turn toward him fire. He dropped to one knee as the bandit's bullet flew high. Curry's shot went through the man's hand and propelled his gun several feet into the street. The man grabbed his bleeding hand and cursed loudly.

Jumping up and darting behind a street post, Kid turned his attention to the third man. This one was the tallest and had a thick mustache. He took aim and fired but his bullet flew by as the man swung his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the red shirted bandit aiming to fire and realized that he had pulled out a second gun which he now held in his left hand. Curry fired another shot into the red shirt, as the third bandit fired toward the sheriff's office, producing more screams. He swung his attention back to number three and fired, this time aiming dead center.

The dark-haired one was up and scrambling for his horse, still clutching his injured right shoulder. Kid fired his sixth shot into the man's left leg, sending him sprawling before he reached his horse.

When the last of the three bank robbers went down and stayed down, Kid took a deep breath and quickly walked over to pick up their scattered guns. An eerie silence seemed to fill the street as the echo of the last gunshot died away. Heyes, who had been at the opposite end of the street when the first shots were heard, had also run toward the bank, but the shooting had been over before he arrived. Coming up now beside his partner he breathed a sigh of relief to see that Curry was unhurt.

A woman's scream broke the silence. "My son! My son has been shot! Please help me!"

All eyes turned toward the woman who knelt behind the horses watering trough. A blonde boy lay on the ground. He was bleeding badly from the chest area and appeared to be unconscious.

Curry stared mutely down at the boy he'd seen in the general store minutes before. The boy's body lay behind the three men he had been shooting at. The bank robbers had only fired two shots across the street, and the sheriff hadn't even gotten one shot off. As Kid recounted the events he came to one inescapable conclusion—it had been his bullet that hit the boy. His mouth went dry and he felt light headed. Slowly he stepped back. The blonde boy laying on the ground…the blood…the killing…the bodies…his mother's lifeless face…his brother…the blood…the killing—he broke away and darted between the buildings.

Heyes was alarmed at Curry's reaction and went after him. He found his friend in the alley behind the bank, doubled over retching. Heyes started to say something but the words caught in his throat. Silently he turned around and went back to the front of the bank.

The sheriff and his two deputies were sorting out what had happened. They took the two injured bank robbers to the jail where they would wait until the doctor was finished working on the boy. The third man was left for the undertaker.

Inside the bank, the manager and one teller had been killed and a customer had suffered a minor flesh wound from a ricochet bullet. One of the deputies had been grazed by the outlaw's first shot, but 'Jones' had stopped them from doing any further damage. The sheriff believed that the bank robbers intended to kill anyone who came out of the sheriff's office or who tried to stop them. They had already killed two men so they had nothing to lose. They knew they would hang if they were caught.

Heyes realized from listening to the talk, that the town was considering 'Jones' a hero for stopping the robbery. They were blaming the outlaws for the child's accidental shooting, no matter whose gun the bullet came from. Heyes stayed long enough to learn that the boy's name was Tommy Cooper, and his condition was critical. The bullet was lodged near his heart and would require surgery. There was talk of sending for a doctor from a nearby town, who had experience with cases such as this. Unfortunately, that would be very expensive and the Cooper family most likely couldn't afford it.

Curry had been reclusive that night, drinking nearly an entire bottle of whiskey alone in their room after sending Heyes away. The next morning he packed up and left, telling Heyes he needed some time alone and would meet up with him in Twin Falls.

-oooOOOooo-

Back in the musty smoke filled saloon, Lom Trevors sat, grimly watching the man across from him. He looked at the empty bottle of whiskey and hoped Heyes wouldn't order another. The alcohol was only worsening the former outlaw's mood.

"Did the boy die?" Trevors asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Heyes answered despondently, "I left town the day after the Kid did and headed up to Twin Falls. I figured he just needed a little time to sort things out. I thought he'd show up in a couple of weeks and everything would be like it was, but when he didn't come, I started to get worried. Then I saw the story about the train robbery in the newspaper."

"So you think the bank robbery in Johnson's Creek had something to do with this train robbery in Silverton?" Trevors was confused.

"No, I think it has something to do with why the Kid isn't fighting this."

"You mean because he feels guilty?" Lom asked.

"Yeah, maybe, but I think it's more than that."

"That still doesn't explain why an eyewitness would swear that Kid Curry lead that train robbery," Trevors declared with a grim look.

Heyes sighed, "I know, and I can't exactly investigate without running the risk of being recognized. That's where I was hoping you could come in." He looked beseechingly at the lawman.

"I don't know how much I can find out, but I'll do what I can." Trevors shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He'd never seen Hannibal Heyes quite so downcast. "I'm going to go get a room at the hotel. How about we meet for breakfast?" He hoped to encourage Heyes to go get some rest as well, but the dark haired man didn't look like he planned to leave his seat any time soon.

With a heavy heart, Trevors left the saloon and headed for the hotel. He'd always liked Heyes and Curry, and his respect for them had grown since he'd agreed to speak to the governor on their behalf. He really believed that they could turn their lives around and he'd been proud of them for their efforts thus far. He hated to see a thing like this happen. Whether Curry had been on that train or not, the town seemed bound and determined to hang him and Trevors wasn't sure there was any way he could stop it. He wondered what would become of Heyes if they did hang Curry. He didn't really want to think about the possibilities.

-oooOOOooo-

Lom Trevors stood in Sheriff Jenkins' office in Silverton. The office was staffed by the sheriff and two deputies, with two additional guards with rifles placed in front of the door. They certainly weren't taking any chances with their high profile prisoner. Trevors had visited many sheriff's offices and jails during his time as a lawman. He had delivered prisoners to neighboring towns as well as picked up and escorted them to his own hometown of Porterville. The procedure had become routine—checking in with the local sheriff, identifying himself and submitting to a search before being escorted into the cell to see the prisoner. This time however, the familiarity of the routine did nothing to ease the knot he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"When does the trial begin?" he asked Jenkins who had remained seated behind his desk as he examined Lom's credentials.

"Trial?" the slightly overweight, middle-aged sheriff scoffed. "Ain't no need for a trial. We got us a confession." He smiled smugly. "Stringing him up in three days, just as soon as we finish building the gallows."

Lom swallowed hard and tried not to show his shock and distress. As the deputy led the way down the narrow corridor leading to the individual cells, Lom felt the darkness closing in around him. His heart rate quickened as he approached Curry's cell. The door was solid with only a small barred window at the top. He shuddered at the thought of being locked up alone in a place like this even for a few hours. How long had Curry been kept in here? The sound of the heavy door sliding open jolted him back to reality.

"You've got five minutes," the deputy stated curtly. "You sure you don't want me to stay?"

"I said no, didn't I?" Trevors snapped back roughly.

The deputy shrugged and slammed the door closed, leaving Trevors alone with the prisoner. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Lom studied the man slumped on the cot in the far corner of the cell. He appeared to be asleep and hadn't even stirred at the sound of the door being opened and closed.

"Kid," Lom called out quietly at first. "Kid," he repeated louder when he received no response.

Slowly the man across the cell looked up.

"You made the trip for nothing, Lom. They already found someone to identify me—and I won't be needing an escort to Wyoming," Curry said in an icy, almost threatening tone.

"That's not why I came," Trevors said in a harsher voice, as he straightened and walked over to the man on the cot. "I want to know who your accomplices were—the two men who escaped after the robbery."

Curry was caught off guard and he looked up startled, but said nothing. This was not what he had expected from Trevors.

"I want names, Curry!" Trevors shouted as he stepped closer and leaned over the Kid with as much intimidation as he could manage.

After receiving no response, he reached down and grabbed Curry by the front of his shirt and hauled him up to his feet.

"Names! Now!" Trevors insisted and roughly shoved the younger man against the wall.

Anger flashed in Curry's light blue eyes. "How the hell would I know!" he shouted back defensively. "I wasn't even on the—" He stopped short at the smug look of victory in the lawman's eyes.

"You'd know if you'd led the raid. But you can't tell me because you weren't even on the train," Trevors said in a calmer voice as he released Curry and stepped back.

Lom thought the Kid looked tired and defeated as he sunk back down onto the cot.

"What difference does it make Lom? They're going to hang me anyway. This way, I don't have to sit through some carnival of a trial."

"Kid, if you want to throw your life away that's your business, but if you take credit for this—this atrocity—then the real criminal who did this gets off free as a bird and I'm making that my business. You're going to help me track down the real killers and see that justice is done here, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

Curry stared at him with a look of annoyance. "You're still wasting your time, Lom. I don't know anything about this."

"What about the man who identified you? Ever seen him before?"

Kid thought for a moment and then shook his head, "No," he replied slowly.

"He get a good look at you?" Trevors asked.

Curry gave a short laugh. "Oh yeah, they chained me up good and took me up front where the light was nice and bright so he and the rest of the folks gathered around could get a real good look at me," he replied bitterly.

"Well, that's something. We know the witness lied." Trevors looked up as the deputy slid the heavy door open.

"Okay, sheriff, time to go," the deputy instructed, motioning for Lom to leave the cell.

Lom could see the two guards standing beside the deputy, their guns pointed toward Curry.

Reluctantly, Lom stepped out of the cell and watched as the deputy swung the heavy door closed and removed the Kid from sight.

Back in the main office, Trevors faced Sheriff Jenkins with a look of disgust on his face. "Well, you and your town are about to look pretty foolish in front of the entire territory," he told the man.

At the sheriff's puzzled expression, Lom continued. "That ain't Kid Curry and he wasn't even on that train. That's just some down on his luck drifter looking to have his moment of glory as a big name outlaw."

"But the eye witness—" Jenkins stammered.

"Exactly. What is his motive? I'll need everything you've got on him. Then I'll need to go see him."

"But—"

"Sheriff, I know Kid Curry and that ain't him. Besides that, he couldn't get one detail right about the train robbery. I think this witness of yours may be involved in the robbery though, or at least know who was. Somebody paid him to lie about what he saw."

"But the whole train full of passengers saw the robbery," Jenkins objected.

"Did they see that man?" Trevors pointed back toward the cells.

"Well, no, the robbers had their bandanas up over their faces. Except for Curry when he was robbing Crawford, then it slipped down and Jake got a good look at him."

"Or so he says," Trevors added. "Sheriff, if you hang that man as Kid Curry, you'll be the laughing stock of the country. You'll be letting the guilty ones go free if you don't go looking for them before the trail gets too cold." He shook his head sympathetically. "Not to mention the money…"

Jenkins was beginning to look rattled and Trevors hoped his plan was working.

"Sheriff, if you let me take a look at what you have on this case—I might be able to help. I have a little time before I need to be back in Porterville. I also have an associate in the area right now. He's had a lot of experience with train robberies."

-oooOOOooo-

Lom Trevors sat in his hotel room watching Hannibal Heyes pace nervously in front of him.

"Well? How did he seem to you?" Heyes questioned, giving Trevors a look that said he wanted the truth no matter how bad it was. His face already showed the strain of several sleepless nights.

Trevors considered his response for a moment. It had been just a couple of hours since he'd seen Curry and he'd been left rather unsettled by the experience.

"Well, he was like you thought he'd be. Quiet at first, sullen, like he just wanted it all to be over. The sheriff said he gave them a confession."

Heyes started to protest but Trevors held up his hand. "He did confess Heyes, but only because he didn't want a trial. I've got the sheriff doubting the confession though."

"You said there was an eye witness?" Heyes asked tiredly.

"Yeah, I wrote it all down." He handed Heyes the notes that he had made in the sheriff's office that afternoon. Trevors sat and waited while Heyes studied the notes.

"Jake Crawford. It says he bought his place—a small ranch—a couple of months ago. Paid cash. Before that he worked at a big spread called the Running W, in Texas."

Heyes looked up. "How does a ranch hand save up enough to buy his own place?"

He went back to reading. After a few minutes Heyes looked up again. "They covered their faces? That had to be so only one man could identify them—their man! We get to him and we get to the bottom of this."

"Exactly what I was thinking Heyes. We'll go see him first thing in the morning."

"Why not tonight?" Heyes asked. We have enough light left to get out to his place and then we can—"

"Heyes." Lom put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You've barely slept the last few nights. You smell like old whiskey. I know you're worried about the Kid—so am I, but you're not thinking straight."

Heyes let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his uncombed hair. He seemed to become aware for the first time of his disheveled appearance. "You're right Lom, I know you're right." He sat down heavily on the bed and closed his eyes.

"Heyes," the lawman began, "there's something else. I sent a telegram to the Sheriff in Johnson's Creek to see how the boy was doing."

Heyes looked up suddenly awake again. "And?" he asked nervously.

"The boy is going to make it. They got a doc to come in and take the bullet out." Trevors frowned and looked solemnly at Heyes. "Somebody sent five hundred dollars to the boy's family to pay for the doctor and the medical care. The money was sent the day after the train robbery."

"What are you saying Lom? You told me you believed the Kid didn't have anything to do with that train robbery." Heyes narrowed his eyes and looked up accusingly.

"No, I don't think he killed those passengers. But where would he get that kind of money in a few weeks?"

Heyes didn't like the implication in the lawman's question.

"I've gotta talk to him Lom, I've gotta know he's ok."

Lom laid a reassuring hand on Heyes' shoulder. "They're not mistreating him, least not as far as I could tell. I think I can keep the sheriff from hanging him until we sort this out. What's your hurry? He's been in jail before."

Heyes only shook his head. "No Lom, not like this. Not like he was after the boy was shot. He had the same look he had after—" Heyes' voice trailed off and a faraway look came over his face.

"Lom, did we ever tell you how our parents died?"

"No, I knew neither of you had any family that you ever spoke of, but…"

"That's just it Lom, we never spoke about it. Jed didn't say a word for days, and when he did start talking again he never said anything about what he saw. I knew he had to have found them all dead, just like I did, but he never said a word."

Quietly Heyes told him how he and Kid had been fishing the day the bushwhackers raided their farms. Both of their families had been killed and their farms burned. They had each run to their own homes when they saw the smoke and discovered the bodies. No one in town had been able or willing to take them in permanently so they'd been sent to a boys' home.

"We swore we'd always look after each other. The way I figure it, the Kid has kept his end of the bargain—I aim to keep mine."

Heyes wasn't afraid of not being able to get Kid Curry out of jail, but he was afraid of the state the Kid would be in when he did get out.

Both men were silent for a few minutes while Lom took in the story that he'd just been told.

"I'm not going to let them send him to prison for 20 years," Heyes stated resolutely.

"There are all sorts of prisons," Trevors said staring out the window.

"He came out of it before, after we got away from Valparaiso," Heyes replied matter-of-factly.

"Did he? Are you over it, Heyes?"

"Well, yeah, sure. I've dealt with it."

"Have you? Then why are you still trying to protect him? Take care of him like you did when you were kids."

"Habit, I guess." Heyes observed wryly.

"You're not responsible for him Heyes. Whatever happens, you are not responsible. You didn't put him in jail, or force him to learn to use that gun, or decide to stop the bank robbery in Johnson Creek. Hell, you didn't even make him decide to ride with you and become an outlaw. You're not responsible for what he chooses to do."

Heyes just stared at him. "So what are you saying? I should just leave him there, let them hang him?"

"No, I didn't say that, I know you want to help him and so do I. I'm just saying you are not responsible for him being in this situation. There is a difference between helping a friend and making yourself responsible for someone else's life." Lom seemed to stare silently into the distance for a minute, and then he added quietly. "You've made yourself responsible for him because you feel guilty about what happened when you were kids. Not because he needs you to do it."

The two men sat in silence for a few more minutes. Finally, Lom stood and cleared his throat.

"Get some sleep Heyes, we've got a full day tomorrow."

-oooOOOooo-

Alone in the dark cell, Kid Curry once again gave in to the haunting images that had been plaguing him for weeks. His brother's body—lying next to the barn with a gaping hole in his chest. Blood was splattered all over the door. He must have been just walking out of the barn with a full pail of milk when his attacker shot him at close range. The pail was lying near the fallen boy and a puddle of milk mixed with blood was soaking into the soft dirt. Jed was usually the one sent for milk—but he hadn't been there. He had snuck out to go fishing earlier that morning.

Closer to the house, his mother's body lay sprawled on the ground with her arms outstretched. It looked as if she'd been running, perhaps toward the barn. Her eyes and mouth were open as if frozen in an agonizing scream.

He could see his father lying by the well and he could tell that he was dead by the stillness of the crumpled form. Slowly, numbly, he had walked toward the house. Common sense should have told him to run for fear that the attackers were still nearby, but Jed had to know where his two oldest brothers were. His father would have sent them running to the house for rifles at the first sign of trouble. Samuel Curry had taught all of his boys to shoot as soon as they were old enough to hold a rifle.

Peering through the open door, Jed saw what he expected to see. Both boys had been shot several times. They had died defending their home. Jed had never seen so much blood, it seemed to be everywhere on the usually immaculate hardwood floor.

Trapped in his own private prison, the years blended together. Kid saw the boy lying in the street by the water trough. That was his bullet in the boy, his bullets in his brother's bodies; he was responsible—

Kid Curry awoke with a start. He had been sweating profusely even though the night was cool. Every night since the bank robbery had been the same. As fatigue finally claimed his body and he drifted into a restless sleep, the nightmares would begin. As he sat alone on the hard cot he began to shiver. He stared into the darkness and tried to remember what day it was. Tuesday? Wednesday? How many more days until his nightmare would end?

-oooOOOooo-

The man that knocked on Lom Trevors' door early the next morning barely resembled the one who'd left there the night before. Lom nodded his approval as he stepped out into the hallway with the now clean-shaven and neatly dressed man who looked much more like his old friend.

The ride out to Crawford's ranch would take a couple of hours and the two men spent most of that time buried in their own thoughts.

"Do you have a plan yet Heyes?" Trevors asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Lom, you'll be the first to know," Heyes answered dryly and Lom was sorry he'd asked.

They arrived at the small ranch house just before noon.

"Hello in there," Trevors called out as they rode up to the house. When the man inside slowly opened the door, Heyes and Trevors found themselves staring at the business end of a shotgun.

"Mr. Crawford?" Heyes began. "Sheriff Jenkins sent us. We need to go over a few details from your account of the train robbery."

"Oh? The sheriff told me I was finished," he said skeptically, but lowered the shotgun and invited the two men inside. He set his shotgun by the door and sat down opposite his visitors at a small table.

"I don't know why you had to come all the way out here. I identified the train robber and they got him there, locked up in the jail. What more is there?"

Heyes' skill at reading a man's face, well-honed from the poker table, told him the man was lying.

"Well, Mr. Crawford, there were three other men involved in that robbery and they are still on the loose," Heyes replied smoothly.

"Yeah, well they got the one that did the killing."

"Oh that may be, but you see, when a murder in committed during a robbery—every person involved is guilty of murder, whether they actually pulled the trigger or not." Heyes smiled slightly and enjoyed the nervous twitch that the other man was now displaying with increased frequency.

"What did you want to know?" Crawford asked, trying to appear calm.

"What ranch did you work for down in Texas, Mr. Crawford?"

"Running W," the rancher replied in an irritated tone.

"What town was that in again?" Heyes asked, feeling a chill run down his spine.

"West Bend." Crawford seemed so be getting nervous and was beginning to sweat slightly.

Bells were ringing inside Heyes' head but he maintained an even expression.

"I knew a fella from around there once, Joe Briggs, you know him?" Heyes asked casually.

"No, never heard of him." The man said quickly, then scowled and rose, as though he was about to ask his two visitors to leave.

Heyes remained seated and Lom shot him a questioning glance.

"Now that's odd, you see Joe Briggs has been the foreman of the Running W for several years. Even if you quit six or eight months ago, you would have had to know him. So you are a liar, Mr. Crawford, and that makes me mighty curious as to what else you are lying about—and why?"

Jake Crawford looked desperately around the room. When his eyes rested on the gun by the front door, both Heyes and Trevors drew their revolvers.

"Mr. Crawford, we are going to find every last man involved in that robbery. With or without your help. Now I know for a fact that you lied when you identified that man in jail—so that means you were either involved in the robbery—" Heyes paused a moment to let the implication sink in, "or someone is merely paying you to lie to the sheriff. I want to know which one it is." Heyes glared at the man with a murderous expression on his face that made even Trevors feel a cold chill.

"You—you can't just shoot me." The man looked terrified.

"Sure I can," Heyes said in a voice that was hard as steel.

Trevors shot him a worried look. This had better be an act Heyes, he warned silently.

"But, he'll kill me if I say anything," Crawford whimpered.

"I'll kill you if you don't," Heyes said cocking his gun and leveling it in front of the man's face. "Take your pick."

After a painfully long minute the man blurted out, "It was Joe that done it, he said he was going to pay Curry back for what he done to him—and collect the reward too!"

"What did Curry do to him?" Trevors asked, glancing briefly at Heyes before returning his attention to Crawford.

"Shot him in a gunfight, crippled him in his shootin' arm."

Trevors drew in a breath and stared hard at Crawford. "Maybe you'd better sit down and start at the beginning." He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to hear what the man had to say, but he needed to know.

"Well, Joe was the foreman at the Running W, and it was his job to see that there wasn't any trouble. So when these two hired guns came into town, Joe figured he'd better keep an eye on them. Only he didn't know one of 'em was Kid Curry. He was using some other name, Johnson or James or—Jones that was it. Well Joe was right, these guys were trouble, and they get into a gunfight right in the middle of town. That's when Jones shoots him. The doc tells Joe he'll never bend his elbow right or use his hand again. So Joe loses his job and nobody will hire him after that."

"Were you there Crawford?" Heyes asked accusingly.

"Well, uh, no but I heard all about it. The whole town was talking about it."

"So what about the train robbery?" Trevors prompted.

"Well, Joe starts thinking about this guy. Figures Jones isn't his real name, 'cause anybody that fast is bound to have a reputation. So Joe starts lookin' through the wanted posters and comes up with Kid Curry."

Heyes gave a short laugh. "This Briggs must have quite an ego. I've seen it before. Some guy thinks he's a hot shot and then he gets beat so he has to make up a big story to save his reputation. Being outdrawn by Kid Curry—why that's almost an honor!"

"But why the train robbery? Why not just turn Jones in if Briggs thought he was Kid Curry?" Trevors was barely concealing his anger and Heyes knew he expected an explanation later.

"Joe said that wasn't good enough. He wanted Curry to suffer like he'd suffered. Make sure he hung for what he done to him."

"Only he isn't Kid Curry, just a guy named Jones who happened to get lucky, or maybe Briggs just wasn't as fast as he thought he was," Heyes snickered.

"Yeah, maybe. But Joe hears about a man named Jones that shot up three bank robbers in Johnson's Creek and figures it must be the same guy. And it is, so he sets up the train robbery to frame Jones."

"Was Briggs one of the train robbers?" Trevors looked straight at Crawford.

"Yeah, him and Tom Wade, another guy from the Running W."

"Who else?" Trevors questioned, leaning closer.

"I, I don't know, just two guys Joe found somewhere…"

"And the man in jail, Jones, he didn't have anything to do with the robbery did he?" Heyes demanded.

"No. He didn't," Crawford admitted.

"OK, where is Briggs now?" Heyes asked in a gentler tone.

"I don't know, he said he'd bring me my cut if my story worked and Curry—or Jones—or whoever that guy is, got hung."

"How?" Trevors asked again.

"He was supposed to bring it out to my place the day after the hanging. That's all I know." Crawford looked like he was telling the truth this time.

"Alright, let's go back to town and get this cleared up. You can tell your story to the sheriff and clear Jones, and then maybe the sheriff will go easy on you." Trevors stood and escorted Crawford out the door. Heyes followed, deep in thought.

-oooOOOooo-

A few hours later Sheriff Jenkins sat shaking his head after listening to Crawford's story.

"I sure do owe you two fellas, for getting to the bottom of this. It would have been a might embarrassing to find out we hung the wrong man." The sheriff was looking down at the notes he'd taken while Crawford had been talking.

"Not to mention how the innocent man would have felt," Heyes said sarcastically under his breath.

"Did you say something?" The sheriff asked looking up.

"I said I'm glad to have been of help," Heyes said, with a quick smile.

"You said they'd go easy on me right? And you won't let Briggs get to me?" Crawford pleaded nervously.

"You'll be safe enough," Jenkins said tersely. "Well I'd better get Crawford here locked up and tell Jones he's free to go," Jenkins said reaching for his keys.

"Uh, you can't do that sheriff," Heyes said suddenly.

Trevors, Jenkins and Crawford all stared at him with open-mouthed confusion.

"If Joe Briggs finds out we're on to him, he'll disappear and we'll never catch him or recover the money from that train robbery."

"So what do you propose we do?" The sheriff narrowed his eyes and looked at Heyes intently.

"The hanging will have to go on as planned. Well of course you won't really hang him; you'll just have to play out the game until we spot Briggs. Crawford here will have to stay out at his ranch—you should have one of your men keep an eye on him. Let's go over the plan." Heyes sat down at the sheriff's desk and the other men followed. Trevors just shook his head and marveled at how Heyes could spin a tale.

After the men finished talking, Trevors pulled Heyes aside and spoke quietly.

"Heyes, what are you doing? Take the Kid and get out of here. Don't wait for Briggs, let it go."

"Lom, we may have talked Crawford and the sheriff out of thinking that Thaddeus Jones is Kid Curry, but I don't think Briggs is going to believe it. If he stays out there we'll be looking over our shoulders twice as hard as we do now, because he knows our aliases. And I don't think he's going to give up, this will just give him all the more reason to look for revenge. We have to stop Joe Briggs here and now. This is the only way."

"If this doesn't work, or if someone else comes in from Wyoming who knows you or Curry—this whole thing is going to blow up in our faces. Yours and mine!" Lom warned. "And we still have to talk about West Bend."

"Lom, trust me," Heyes soothed, and turned back to the sheriff.

"Now, Sheriff Jenkins, I'll need to have a word with your prisoner." Heyes strode confidently beside the sheriff as they disappeared down the hallway.

Lom took a deep breath and then exhaled. How had he let Heyes talk him into this?

The door closed with a loud bang and Heyes peered out the small window until he was sure that the sheriff had returned to his office.

"What'd you do, turn yourself in?" Curry asked dryly from the cot at the far side of the cell.

"Hi Kid, how are you doing?" Heyes asked, a little too brightly for Curry's liking.

"Just great, Heyes," he replied, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Lom and I have a plan all worked out. Here's what—"

"Shut up, Heyes, just shut up. I'm tired of your plans," Curry cut him off angrily.

"Kid…please just listen. They're not going to hang you. They know you didn't rob that train." Heyes walked closer and squatted down in front of where Kid sat slouched on the cot.

"Fine, I didn't rob this one. But what about all the other trains? The ones I did rob? They're still going to send me to prison for twenty years. I'd rather just hang now."

"Kid, Lom convinced them you're not really Kid Curry. They think you're Thaddeus Jones and we're going to get you out of here," Heyes said as encouragingly as he could.

Curry's eyes widened and he stared at Heyes. "Why?"

"Why what?" Heyes peered back at Curry with concern.

"Why'd Lom lie?"

"Well, he didn't want you to hang for something you didn't do, Kid, Lom's been a real friend."

"Yeah, I've still got the bump on the back of my head where he shoved me what a good friend he was," Curry muttered.

Heyes gave him a questioning look for a moment and continued, "There's more. The boy in Johnson's Creek is going to recover. The doctor got the bullet out and the boy's awake. The five hundred dollars is really going help the family too."

Curry glanced up sharply at the reference to the money, but he only nodded and then closed his eyes again.

"Kid please—don't do this." Heyes' voice sounded almost pleading.

Curry slowly opened his eyes and returned Heyes' gaze, the look of trust returning. "So if I'm such a free man, why am I still in this cell?"

"Well, Kid, let me explain that." Heyes smiled, and began to tell his partner his plan.

-oooOOOooo-

Heyes had hated leaving the Kid behind in the jail cell, but it was only for one more day. He could last that long couldn't he? Curry had agreed to Heyes' plan, but his mood had remained dark. The news of the boy's recovery hadn't cheered the Kid up as much as Heyes had hoped and he feared that it was going to take some time for him to come around. He sat in the saloon sipping his beer and contemplating what else might be going on with his partner when he saw Lom Trevors heading his way.

"Howdy Lom," Heyes said casually when the sheriff sat down.

"Well?" Trevors asked expectantly.

"He'll do it, but he's still pretty down."

"Maybe this will help." Lom pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "I sent another telegraph to Johnson's Creek. This is what I got back."

Heyes took the paper and his face lit up as he read it. "Lom, this is great, I can't believe it. Wait 'till I tell the Kid."

"I thought that might cheer you up. Now, are you ready to tell me about West Bend?"

Heyes sighed and took a sip of his beer. "Lom, Briggs was a bully. He was terrorizing the whole town. When the Kid stood up to him—Briggs drew on him. It was a fair fight and Briggs started it, that's all there was to it."

Trevors looked hard at Heyes and then nodded. "Okay, I believe you." He looked back and signaled to the barmaid that he'd like a drink. "Now we wait for Briggs?"

"Now we wait," Heyes said dully and finished his beer.

-oooOOOooo-

The day of the hanging started out gray and dreary. The event was scheduled for noon, but even in the early morning, the streets were becoming crowded with curious sightseers. It looked as though many of them were from out of town. Heyes had disguised himself so he could move through the crowd without worrying about Briggs recognizing him. Even though he knew it was a set-up, the gallows made him nervous. The eagerness of the townsfolk made Heyes downright sick. He wished he'd been able to think of another way to get Briggs to show himself.

The morning dragged on and Heyes felt himself becoming discouraged by Briggs' absence. Maybe he was wrong and Briggs didn't intend to watch the hanging. Still, Briggs was bound to hear about it if they called it off and that would certainly warn him that his plan had gone awry. There was no choice but to follow through with the plan.

Finally at noon, with the sun breaking through the clouds, Heyes knew it was almost time for the events to begin. He heard a commotion in front of the sheriff's office and looked to see a group of armed men walking out of the building. Sheriff Jenkins was leading, followed by three deputies, each with their weapons drawn as if on patrol. In the center of the group, he saw his partner, walking stiffly between two of the deputies.

Kid Curry squinted into the sun as he stepped out of the Sheriff's office. He hadn't seen daylight in over a week. He twisted his arms to try and loosen the bonds on his wrists. Damn, why did they have to be so tight? This was supposed to be for show after all, or at least, that was what Heyes had told him.

A deputy walked on each side of the prisoner, shoulder to shoulder, with Curry pressed between them. The street had the atmosphere of a county fair. A cold chill ran down Curry's back as he took in the fact that these people were here because they wanted to watch him swing from the end of a rope. He tried to block out the jeers and shouts from the crowd as he walked out into the street.

The sheriff parted the crowd ahead of them as the trio approached the gallows that had been built for this purpose. They stopped at the base of the narrow stairs and the sheriff indicated for Curry to go up first. With his hands bound behind his back, he concentrated on keeping his balance as he took each step. They walked up the steps single file and stood on the platform side by side. Despite what Heyes had told him, he felt a rising sense of fear and panic as he looked at the rope hanging in front of him with the hangman's knot tied in it. He closed his eyes and tried to take slow deep breaths.

Was this what he deserved for all of the things he'd done? He couldn't even remember all the jobs he'd pulled. How many times had he used his gun to rob, intimidate, wound and even kill? He opened his eyes again and looked at the noose. Was this what he'd been running from so hard and fast for most of his life? Was this what terrified him? No, it was more than this. He stood facing it now and it was not what frightened him most.

Heyes stood behind the crowd, desperately searching for Joe Briggs. I know you're here Briggs, you have to be. As the minutes dragged on he began to fear that Briggs was either absent, or so well hidden that he wouldn't be able to find him.

Heyes scanned the crowd, which was now pressing forward toward the gallows and found Trevors. The two men acknowledged each other silently with a slight nod.

The gunshot sent shock waves through the crowd. Some ran for cover or dropped to the ground, others simply stood frozen. On the platform, Kid suddenly staggered backward and collapsed. Sheriff Jenkins dropped down over him and shouted for his deputies to clear the crowd. Within minutes, Jenkins and his deputies had carried Curry into the sheriff's office. As they passed by, Heyes could see the front of the Kid's shirt was wet with blood.

With concern etched on his face, Heyes hurried toward the sheriff's office. After identifying himself, he was ushered in to the office. Curry sat on the edge of the sheriff's desk holding a slightly bloody rag against his forehead. His white shirt with the sticky red stain lay in a clump at his feet.

"Thaddeus, what happened? Lom didn't hit you did he?" Heyes asked glancing over at the 'shooter' who stood against the back wall.

"No, I didn't hit him," Lom replied indignantly, removing the floppy hat and fake mustache that he had been wearing.

"Hit my head on the post," Curry replied, looking embarrassed. "You should try to fall down gracefully when your hands are tied behind your back." He gave the sheriff a scornful glance.

"What's this?" Heyes asked poking his boot at the sticky shirt.

"My own creation," Jenkins responded proudly, "A mixture of corn syrup and red berries."

Heyes crinkled his nose and returned his attention to Curry's forehead.

"It's fine Joshua. Did you get him? Don't tell me I did this for nothing." Curry looked accusingly at Heyes.

"No, the plan worked. Briggs will believe that you're dead and he won't know anyone's on to him. He'll go out and meet Crawford tomorrow like he planned and we'll get him then." Heyes replied confidently, and hoped his apprehension didn't show.

"I'm going with you," Curry announced.

"No, you're not. If anyone sees you this whole thing is blown. You're staying here until Briggs is caught," Heyes stated flatly.

"I'm going," Curry repeated stubbornly.

Both men looked as though they had made their decision and Lom watched the standoff with mild amusement.

-oooOOOooo-

Very early the next morning, before the sun was up and under cover of darkness, three riders left Silverton. All three were wearing tin stars as they rode out toward Jake Crawford's ranch. Riding cautiously as they approached the house, they found one of Sheriff Jenkins' deputies on watch by the front porch.

"Alright, this is the way this is going to work." Lom instructed as the three dismounted.

"Smith, you and Jones hide in the barn and keep a watch on the entrance to the house. I'll be inside with Crawford, out of sight of course. I want to give him a chance to exchange the money and say enough to incriminate himself. If anything goes wrong, and I don't arrest Briggs inside, make sure you stop him before he leaves the ranch." Lom gave each of his friends a stern look indicating that this was a law enforcement matter and he would be in charge, then he turned to the deputy and told him he could return to town.

"I'll play it your way Lom, but if he comes out of that house without handcuffs on, I'm stopping him my way." Curry hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and returned Trevors' look.

"Fine, then we all understand each other. You two try and get a little sleep; I doubt he'll ride out here until daylight." Trevors disappeared into the house.

It was a couple of hours past sun up when Heyes and Curry heard two riders approaching. As they came into view, they recognized Briggs and one of the men who had been with him in West Bend.

The second man stayed on his horse while Briggs went to the door. He was ushered inside, and after only seconds, a gunshot sounded from inside the house. The two former outlaws bolted out of the barn and moments later a second shot rang out.

The man on horseback turned suddenly when he saw them and reached for his gun.

"Leave it," Curry ordered, his gun already cocked and aimed. Obediently the man raised his hands.

He looked at Curry with shock and surprise. "You're supposed to be dead," he stammered.

Curry glanced quickly at Heyes, who took over by relieving the man of his gun and then instructing him to dismount.

Curry continued on to the house. He paused at the door. There had been no more shots fired and the house seemed to stand in a chilled silence. Cautiously he stepped through the doorway, not certain what he would find.

Once inside, he saw Lom Trevors squatting on the floor next to a fallen body. A second man, Crawford, lay dead a few feet away.

"I tried to aim for his shoulder or arm, but there just wasn't time. It happened so fast." He shook his head and took a deep breath.

Kid felt surprisingly little emotion as he looked down at the body of Joe Briggs—shot through the heart.

"That's why you practice so much isn't it? To give yourself enough of an edge so you can keep from killing." Lom said, quietly.

Curry shrugged. "I can't always keep from killing. I should have killed him," he said looking down at Briggs.

"No, you shouldn't have, Kid. You couldn't have known what he would do. You made the right call at the time."

Heyes stood in the doorway taking in the scene of two dead men on the floor. He gave a relieved sigh as a quick inspection showed no sign of injury to either of his friends.

"They didn't even talk, Briggs just walked in and shot him," Lom observed in disbelief.

"Well, I checked the saddle bags. Briggs didn't bring any money with him, so it looks like he wasn't planning on giving Crawford his share."

"No, he just planned to kill Crawford. I didn't expect that. If I'd have figured that out—two men might not be dead right now." It was clear that Trevors was angry with himself.

"Come on Lom, you can't beat yourself up over something you had no way of knowing," Curry said casually, as he turned and walked out.

Trevors stared after him, wondering why it is so much easier to recognize what someone else is doing than see it in yourself.

With Briggs' partner tied safely to a tree, the three men set about loading the two bodies onto the horses for the ride back to town. When the bodies were secure, they turned their attention to their prisoner.

"What's your name?" Trevors demanded.

"Tom Wade. I didn't do nothing," the man said defensively.

"What'd you think you were coming out here for, to visit an old friend?" Heyes asked sarcastically.

"Yeah," Wade replied coldly.

"Where's the money?" Trevors questioned, leaning closer to the man.

"What money?" Wade asked, feigning ignorance.

"Well, Jake already gave your name to the sheriff in town as being one of the train robbers," Trevors informed him.

"Why that little double crossing—"Wade suddenly stopped and clamped his mouth shut.

"Well now let's see…" Heyes began. "You rode in here with Briggs. Jake has identified you as being in on the train robbery and an awful lot of people are dead—I don't think the town will have any trouble convicting and hanging you," Heyes finished with a smug smile on his face.

Wade's eyes began to show fear.

"Of course, if you had something to bargain with—oh that's right, you don't know anything. That's too bad" Heyes lamented.

"What if I did know something?" Wade asked uncertainly.

Trevors and Curry exchanged a glance. They had stepped back to watch Heyes' silver tongue work its magic.

"Well," Heyes said slowly. "That would depend on what you knew."

"I could show you where the money is? But it's about a day's ride from here," he suggested hesitantly.

Heyes and Trevors exchanged a look.

"I'll take these two into town," Lom said nodding towards the bodies draped over the horses. "You two go with him and retrieve the money. Bring him on into town if he tries to stall," Trevors warned as he rode off toward Silverton.

"Let's take a ride," Curry told the frightened man and helped him onto his horse, leaving his hands tied behind his back. Heyes took the lead and drove the group at an aggressive pace. Curry wasn't sure if his partner was in a hurry, or if he just wanted to make their prisoner as uncomfortable as possible. He knew from experience how difficult it was to keep your balance in the saddle with your arms behind your back and he took grim satisfaction in the man's discomfort.

During the ride, Wade confessed that the money had been hidden in a well outside of a small abandoned farmhouse. "There," the frightened man shouted as a small house came into view. "There it is. See, I told you the truth."

"We'll see about that," Heyes spoke tentatively.

"I'll check out the house," Curry offered and rode ahead.

Heyes drew his gun and leveled it at Wade. "You'd better hope he doesn't have any trouble."

Wade's eyes grew wider. "This isn't a trap—I swear," he said shakily.

"The house is empty," Curry announced from the porch.

Heyes let out a relieved sigh. "OK, let's get the money."

Curry went to work at the well and after a few minutes hauled out a canvas bag. He gave a soft whistle when he looked inside.

"Hey, we could split that three ways and have a real good head start before the law knows we're not coming in. Wadda you say boys?" Wade looked hopefully from Heyes to Curry.

"Two ways would be even better," Heyes said coldly as he drew his gun again and pointed it at Wade.

"You wouldn't!" Wade gasped fearfully.

"No, I wouldn't," Heyes replied after a long silence. "But you would. That's why we're taking you in."

He replaced his gun and took the reins of Wade's horse to lead him toward the house. "We'll tie him up good for the night. I'll take the first watch." Heyes glanced over at his partner, who looked completely exhausted.

Curry slept fitfully at first, but finally settled down and appeared to be sleeping soundly. Heyes watched over his partner while he watched out for any arriving danger.

Kid Curry awoke when the sunlight streamed in through the small window. Startled, he looked questioningly at Heyes. "Why didn't you wake me up for my watch?"

"Oh, I couldn't sleep anyway, so I didn't think there was any need for both of us to be up," he said dismissively.

Curry looked back at his partner gratefully and nodded. They saddled up the horses and headed back toward Silverton with Wade and the money.

Rumors had spread through the town after Trevors arrived with the two bodies and the three riders were met with curious stares from the confused townsfolk.

Curry pulled Wade off of his horse and hauled him into the sheriff's office.

Trevors who was waiting with Jenkins gave a huge sigh of relief when he saw them walk in.

"Here's the haul from the train robbery." Heyes dropped the bag down on Sheriff Jenkins's desk. "It's all there except for about a hundred dollars—so I don't think you'll need to spend any more time looking for those last two gang members," he said darkly.

"What's going to happen to me?" Wade questioned. "You said if I cooperated I'd get off easy."

"That will be up to a judge and jury," Heyes answered him coldly.

"Come on Thaddeus, let's go to the hotel."

Heyes arranged for a bath to be brought up and after giving the Kid time to change and shave, he sat down on the bed with a serious expression on his face.

"Kid, now that this is over, we need to talk. First, I've got some good news. Lom sent another telegraph to Johnson's Creek, and you won't believe what he found out." Reaching into his pocket he brought out the crumpled telegraph form from the day before. He handed it to Curry and watched as his friend read the paper. Curry looked up puzzled.

"Heyes, this isn't possible. I don't understand."

"I don't either Kid, but it says they confirmed that the boy was shot by one of the bank robbers, not by you."

"He was in my line of fire Heyes, one of them couldn't have shot him. It's not possible."

"Well, I thought maybe we'd ride over there and find out. See how he's doing?" Heyes paused and looked down at his boots. "Kid, there's something I have to know. You sent the boy's family $500.00."

"So?"

"Where did you get the money?"

"What do you mean, where did I get it? I got it from a job!"

"What kind of job?"

"What kind—?"His eyes widened as the implication of the question became clear.

"What kind do you think?" he said bitterly. "You think I'd go back on my word? After all we've been through to go straight?"

"I'm sorry Kid, it's just that…"

"What Heyes? You think I lost my mind or something?"

"No, Kid, I just…"

"You don't think I can manage on my own do you? You think that without you there to think for me and keep me in line—that I can't take care of myself don't you?"

"No, Kid…" Heyes swallowed hard, and realized with regret that was exactly what he'd been thinking.

Kid Curry stalked out of the room slamming the door behind him.

Heyes wanted to give his friend some time, but he couldn't let the conversation end that way.
After an hour he strolled down to the saloon. He was relieved to find Curry sitting at a table near the back and slid down into the chair next to him. "Buy you a beer?" he asked casually.

Curry peered at Heyes with a resigned look on his face.

"I was heading up north, passed through Echo Glen. They're putting a new railroad right through the mountain up there. Cut two full days off the trip doing that." He looked up for a response but Heyes was only staring at him silently. "I saw a sign advertising for blasters, they were paying some pretty high rates for anyone who knew how to use nitro, something about being so far behind schedule. Anyway, I knew that boy was going to need some real expensive doctoring, so I took the job for a couple of weeks. Just to get enough to send down to the boy's family."

"You took a job using nitroglycerine?" Heyes asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Kid shrugged, "seemed like an easy way to make some money."

"You've never used nitro before!" Heyes almost shouted, and then lowered his voice. "How did you know how to use nitro?"

"I've seen you use it plenty of times Heyes. Wasn't that hard."

Heyes only stared dumbfounded at his partner. "Well, that's about the only job I can think of that's more dangerous than being a train robber. You're going in the wrong direction don't you think?"

Curry only glared back at him and didn't respond.

"Let's go back to the hotel; I want to get some rest so we can get an early start out of here tomorrow morning." Heyes stood and hoped his partner would follow.

Curry looked up at him for a long moment, then finally rose and the two walked back to their hotel room.

-oooOOOooo-

The next morning, saddled and ready to go, Heyes and Curry stood in the livery stable with Lom Trevors. Curry was still angry and Heyes figured it might take some time. He hoped the trip he had planned would help.

"Lom, I don't know how to thank you for all you've done," Heyes began, unused to being at a loss for words.

Trevors shook Heyes' hand firmly and nodded. "Where are you two headed?"

"Well, first I thought we'd go by Johnson's Creek. Check on a friend…" Heyes looked hesitantly at Kid, who, after a moment nodded once.

"OK then, you two try and stay out of trouble now. Keep in touch," Trevors said as he shook both their hands. He gave Heyes a meaningful look, but the other man only smiled innocently.

-oooOOOooo-

After arriving in Johnson's Creek, the two former outlaws had turned down free drinks in the saloon in order to visit the recovering boy before it got dark. The boy's mother welcomed them and thanked them profusely for the money that had been sent for her son's medical bills and to help while the family focused on his recovery. She explained that the doctor was in with Tommy, but he should be finished very soon if they would like to wait.

"Ma'am, if you don't mind, there's something I need to ask you." Heyes began cautiously.

"Certainly, anything." Mrs. Cooper replied warmly.

"Well Ma'am, I received a telegraph from your sheriff here in town, and he said that Tommy was shot by one of the bank robbers. We just can't understand how that happened?" Heyes looked at her apologetically.

"Oh, you see when Tommy woke up he told us all about it. He saw those men go into the bank and he thought they looked suspicious so he followed them into the bank. When he saw them pull out their guns and tell the bank manager that it was a robbery he hid in the corner to watch. He used to be fascinated with bank robbers and gunfighters." Mrs. Cooper looked slightly embarrassed. "He should never have followed those men in, but he did. When the shooting started he got up to run out and was hit by a bullet. He made it as far as the watering trough when he saw the men running out so he hid behind it. Sometime during the gunfight he passed out and that's where I found him."

She looked up at Kid with a worried expression. "Will you be wanting the money back, Mr. Jones?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"No ma'am, that money's yours to use for anything Tommy needs," Curry assured her.

Mrs. Cooper smiled and gave a relieved sigh. "Thank you. Would you like to visit with Tommy? I think the doctor is finished with his check-up now."

"Yes ma'am, but only for a few minutes, we don't want to impose," Heyes smiled politely.

She showed them into her son's room but they needed no introduction.

"You're the one who shot those bank robbers and got everybody's money back. I saw it all, right before everything got all blurry," the boy declared immediately when he saw Curry.

"So what do you think of gunfights now?" Kid asked quietly.

A serious look came over the boy's face. "You were right. It was scary. I don't want to be a gunfighter anymore. Bullets hurt too much."

The boy looked proudly toward the doctor who was packing his bag by the door. "I'm going to be a doctor," he said with a big grin.

Heyes returned the boy's smile and started to tell h

m what a good idea that was, but Curry merely nodded and walked out of the room.

Heyes quickly thanked the mother for her hospitality, explained that they needed to catch a train in the next town and said their goodbyes to the boy. "What do you think you're doing?" Heyes demanded after he joined his partner in the street. It wasn't like Curry to be so rude and abrupt—especially with a woman and child.

"You heard the boy. His brush with death has made him want to do something useful with his life—help others," he said sadly.

"Well, what's wrong with that?" Heyes asked.

"Nothing, Heyes, not a thing," Curry replied, with a slight tone of disgust. Then he turned his back to his partner and stared out toward the mountains.

"It was all my fault," he said bleakly.

Heyes stared at his friend, not understanding what he meant, but willing to give him some time to explain. After a long minute, Curry continued. He spoke quietly and continued to stare into the distance.

"When I was heading out to meet you to go fishing, that day, I saw a group of men heading toward my farm. I figured they were soldiers coming to ask for food, like the others. My ma always made us be polite and take the time to gather up whatever they wanted and I was afraid I'd be late and you'd go on to the river without me, so I snuck out without anybody seeing me. If I'd have warned them they'd still be alive."

Heyes was shocked at first that the Kid could have blamed himself for any of what had happened on their farms that day. But considering how young he had been, it all began to make sense.

"No Kid, you couldn't have known what they were going to do, or stopped it. You'd have just been dead too. I'd have been alone. You ever think of that? How many times have you saved my life since then?"

Kid turned and stared for a long moment at Heyes before dropping his gaze.

"I thought if I learned how to use a six-gun, if I was faster than everybody else—no one would ever hurt me or mine again. I'd see to it." He paused. "I never thought I'd be the one doing the killing. I'm just like the men who murdered my family."

"You didn't Kid, the boy's not dead. They got the bullet out and he's going to be ok. You didn't even shoot him," Heyes pleaded, desperately trying to get through to the Kid.

"I've killed before—you know that Heyes. And what about next time? How long before some innocent person really does get in the way?"

Heyes blinked and thought for a moment, then he said quietly "You can't keep everyone in the world safe, Kid, and you can't bring your family back or change the past. All we can do is the best we can—today."

"What if that's not good enough?" Curry looked at him tiredly.

"Then we try again tomorrow."

"I miss them Heyes."

"I know, Kid, I know." He swallowed hard to hold back the emotion that was rising in his throat.

Curry looked up after a long silence and Heyes saw that there were tears in his eyes. Tears that should have been shed nearly twenty years before.

Both men stood quietly for what seemed like a long time.

"I think I'll head on back up to Echo Glen. They still got a lot of jobs up there working for the railroad. Pay's pretty good," Curry said finally.

Heyes started to object and tell him how dangerous that kind of work was, but he bit back the words. "That sounds like a good idea, mind if I ride along?" He heard himself saying instead.

Curry shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself, but I didn't think you liked laying railroad ties."

"Wait a minute. I thought we were talking about nitro?" Heyes was confused.

"Nitro? Are you kidding? A man could get killed working with that stuff," Kid said with a slight smile.

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that would we?" Heyes laughed nervously.

"No Heyes, I figure we both have to stick around to watch each other's backs."

Heyes grinned. "It's a deal, partner."

Slowly they walked their horses out of the livery and onto the main street. Curry kicked his brown mare into a trot, and Heyes rode beside him. They rode silently for a while, then slowly at first, they began their familiar banter—when to stop for dinner, whether to camp on the trail or ride into a town, whose turn it was to check out the sheriff's office.

The demons weren't going to go away overnight, but the more daylight that was shed on them, the fainter they would become.

The End