Chapter Two
Kid made his way to the café on the other side of the street, knowing that he needed to get more information about Heyes and figuring that the café would be full of local gossips ready to chin-wag their way through the lunch hour. He kept his hat pulled low over his forehead and avoided making eye contact with the people he met, wanting to attract as little attention as possible.
Kid pushed open the door. When he did so, a little bell attached to it jangled. To Kid's ears, the silvery chime was deafening as he expected all eyes to turn his way. He held his breath, waiting for someone to shout out his name in recognition, but soon realized that everyone in the place was too engrossed in talking about the capture of Hannibal Heyes to pay him any mind.
Exhaling, he casually made his way to one of the only empty tables in the place and sat down alone. He aimed to spend the next hour or however long it took just sitting here listening to the chatter going on around him until he learned what he needed to know to get Heyes out of this town.
The waitress came by his table, carrying an empty cup and a pot of steaming brew, "Coffee?" she asked wearily.
Kid nodded, "Please," and she filled the cup with the hot coffee, setting it in front of him.
"What'll you have?"
Kid ordered his lunch. Then he settled into the business at hand—finding out what he needed to know to be able to help Heyes. The people of the town were more than willing to provide all sorts of information about the man who lay injured in the doctor's office down the street. He didn't even have to ask, all he had to do was listen to the buzz of voices around him.
For instance, he learned that Heyes had been carried into town on the back of his horse, out cold, the result of knocking his head against a rock when he was thrown from the horse. He found out that shortly after getting into town, he had been moved and was now under medical supervision, where he would probably stay until he was well enough to travel and then he would be extradited to Wyoming. He even heard that Heyes was being guarded by one of the sheriff's men…but only one. But he never heard what Heyes' condition was now. No one in the place seemed to know how the injured man was doing. He would have to find this out for himself another way.
Trying his best to be inconspicuous, Kid took up his position in the alleyway that ran next to the doctor's office. He aimed to stay there for as long as it took. Eventually, someone would come out of the doc's place and then he would get the information he needed; one way or another.
Some time later, his patience was rewarded. The door to the office opened and a young girl stepped out on the porch. Kid watched her as she stood there, apparently enjoying the feel of the sun on her face. She was smiling at no one in particular. She had the carefree look of someone who had nothing important to do for the rest of the afternoon. Kid envied her freedom.
He waited anxiously to see which direction she would head, hoping fervently that she would come his way. Still smiling, she fairly skipped down the steps leading from the porch to the street and turned towards him. He stepped casually out of the shadows and waited until she was right in front of him before he tipped his hat and spoke to her, his most charming smile spread across his boyish face.
"Howdy, Miss. My name is Thaddeus Jones. I wonder if I could have a word with you."
The girl stopped walking and looked at the handsome stranger. There was no fear in her eyes when she looked into his eyes, just the open trusting gaze of someone who hadn't yet learned not to trust the word of strangers, no matter how trustworthy they might appear.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I saw you come out of the doctor's office over there. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about how his patient is doing."
"Well," she hesitated. "I'm not really supposed to talk about my father's patients. He doesn't like us to—"
"It's alright, Miss. The sheriff sent me down to inquire on his progress. I'm sure your father won't mind."
She looked at him doubtfully for a moment longer. Kid smiled at her again, staring back into her eyes with what he hoped was a very sincere expression. She smiled self-consciously, dropping her gaze away from his face momentarily. When she met his eyes again, she said, "I guess it would be alright to tell you—seeing as how the sheriff asked you to find out. Mr. Heyes is awake now. Father said he would be well enough to travel soon—at least physically."
Kid's heart skipped a beat. If Heyes was well enough to travel, that meant they'd be shipping him off to Wyoming soon. Kid didn't have much time to waste. Suddenly, his mind registered the rest of what the young woman had told him. "Physically? What do you mean, physically?"
"Well, I don't really know, but Father said there was something else….a brain injury or something. I'm sorry but you'd have to ask him if you need to know any more." She smiled shyly at him once again before hurrying off down the boardwalk, leaving him standing frozen in place, wondering what she meant by a brain injury.
'Well, whatever it is, it's just gonna have to heal up on its own after we get out of this town. He'll be fine. Yeah, he'll be ok. Ain't nothing ever been wrong with Heyes' brain and that's the way it's gonna stay.' Those were the thoughts on Kid's mind as he retreated back into the shadows behind the building. But he wasn't as confident as he pretended to be and pangs of worry nagged him as he set about doing what he needed to get done.
Joshua sat up in his bed, alone with his thoughts. Except he wasn't really alone; the occasional sound of activity just outside his bedroom door attesting to that.
He had listened, not saying a word, as the doctor tried to explain to him that it appeared that the blow he had taken to the back of his head had caused some memory loss. It was true, after all, that he couldn't remember anything after that poker game, but what the doctor had tried to tell him was plain loco! Joshua Smith, an outlaw? Why, that was just plumb ridiculous!
Even crazier was Edward's assertion that he wasn't Joshua Smith at all but an outlaw named Hannibal Heyes. A bank robber, for heaven's sake! He had tried to tell the doctor that he never robbed a bank in his life; that he'd worked in a bank for the last two years, as a matter of fact, over in Porterville. And that he was a friend of the sheriff over there. "Now why would the sheriff of Porterville be friends with an outlaw," he had said, trying to convince the doctor that he was mistaken about his identity.
But Edwards had just looked at him like he was some strange creature that had just crawled out from under a rock. He could tell he hadn't believed anything Joshua had tried to tell him. Finally, he just left the room, shaking his head. Joshua heard the sound of the key turning in the lock again as the door closed. This alarmed him more than anything else; realizing that he was being held prisoner against his will.
Other than the pain in his head, which was slowly subsiding thanks to the draught of medicine the doctor had administered a few minutes before, Joshua felt pretty good. He gingerly flexed his arms and legs and though a little weak and unsteady from spending the last couple days out cold, he didn't see any lasting damage. Slowly, he lowered his feet to the ground and stood. 'At least that's still working,' he thought, grateful to be up and about. Once he knew that his legs would hold his weight, he moved to the door and silently tested the door knob. 'Yep. Locked. They really do think I'm Hannibal Heyes.'
Fighting the urge to panic, Joshua took a moment to look around the room. Forcing himself to remain calm, he thought, 'I've got to get out of here so I can prove I'm not who they think I am. What I need is a plan.'
Other than a small window set high into the wall, there was no other way out of the room except by the door; and that was apparently being guarded, judging from the sounds coming from right outside the door. Joshua had occasionally heard the gentle scraping sounds of a chair being moved across the floor and the not so gentle sounds of a man clearing his throat and coughing periodically.
His eyes lit upon the tray of medical tools on the table next to his bed. Some of the tools looked vaguely familiar. He knew he had seen the thing that doctors used to listen to a person's heart before—what was it called again—oh right, a stethoscope. Then there was a little hammer; Joshua wasn't sure what that was used for but thought it might come in handy later.
Kid had learned long ago how to be patient. As he stood in the deepening shadows in the alleyway, he watched the street, waiting. Finally, his patience was rewarded. The door to the doctor's office opened, and Doc Edwards hurried down the steps and into a buggy parked on the street. He was carrying his medical bag and moving fast, on his way to provide care to some sick farmer or farmer's wife.
This was the opportunity Kid had been waiting for. He knew that Heyes was being guarded by a deputy but at least now Kid wouldn't have to worry about the doctor getting in the way, maybe getting hurt.
The deputy, relaxing in his chair outside Heyes' door, was taken by surprise when the door burst open. The sight of Kid Curry standing there pointing his gun right at his face made him question his choice of occupation. He started to rise, but thought better of it when Curry indicated he should just stay where he was, using the end of his pistol for emphasis.
"Now don't get all excited, Deputy. I don't mean to hurt anybody—although I'm not against it either if it becomes necessary. As long as you co-operate, you're gonna be just fine. Now just pull your weapon out of your holster…with your left hand, please…and throw it off somewhere out of the way."
The deputy swallowed hard and, never taking his eyes off Kid Curry's face, did as he was instructed. "Good man." Kid bent down and picked up the deputy's gun, shoving it into the waistband of his jeans. Then he pulled a length of rope out of his back pocket and proceeded to tie the lawman up.
"Now, I'm gonna have to gag you so you don't start yelling as soon as I get my friend and we leave, but before I do, I need you to tell me where the key to that door is."
"I-I-I don't have it," the man stammered.
"I don't have time to play games, my friend," Kid said, resting the tip of his pistol meaningfully against the deputy's chest, as he felt the anger start to flare within himself. "Where is it?"
The deputy's eyes widened in fear. Kid Curry's reputation as a ruthless gunslinger was enough to make him tell him anything he wanted to know, but it was the rage he saw growing behind those steely blue eyes that made the bile rise up in his throat. He was afraid he might become ill before he could convince Curry that he didn't have the key.
"Th-there are only two keys to that room. The sheriff has one and Doc Edwards has the other one. He took it with him." The man had turned an unhealthy shade of pale as all the blood ran out of his face. Kid stood staring down at him for a long moment before deciding he was probably telling the truth.
He sighed deeply. "Why do these things always have to be so difficult, I ask ya? Is it too much to expect to find a key to a locked room when you need one?" Kid reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a dirty bandana. "Well, I'm gonna believe you, friend. Mostly 'cuz I ain't got no choice and I got even less time." He forced the bandana into the deputy's mouth and tied it tightly behind his head. Then he turned his attention to the door and the man behind it.
"Heyes, can you hear me? It's Kid. Can you unlock the door?"
Joshua heard the commotion outside his door long before he figured out what was going on out there. He could make out two male voices, one hard and low, the other more high-pitched and tinny. Neither one sounded like Doc Edwards. He assumed one was the person making sure he stayed put in this room, but he had no clue who the other voice belonged to. There was something strangely familiar about it though—he just couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice again, much louder this time; like the person it belonged to was standing right outside the door and speaking right at him. And if he was speaking to him, then that person thought he was Heyes too!
Given his circumstances, he wasn't in the mood to quibble. He was tired of being locked up in this room, waiting for the people outside this door to come to their senses and realize that they had the wrong man. He called out, nervously, "Uh, no sir. I can't unlock the door. It's locked from out there."
Kid frowned. There was something wrong with Heyes' brain all right. That was the only explanation he could come up with for him calling him 'sir' and for him sounding so jittery. He also knew Heyes could open this door on his worst day without even breaking a sweat. There was definitely something wrong. "Ok, Heyes. Don't think too much. Just look around you and see if you can find anything to open the door with."
"What? I'm sorry but I don't—"
"I told you not to think. Just do it."
Joshua felt the panic rise up from his stomach. He wondered whether he should really be co-operating with the man outside. He sounded a little loco to him. Taking a deep breath, Joshua tried to do as he was told—not think, just do it. He looked around the room until he spotted the medical tools again. One looked like a probe of some type. Joshua grabbed it and set about working on the lock. After a couple of minutes, he gave up in frustration. "It's no use," he called. "I can't do it."
"Yes you can, Heyes. You can do it in your sleep. You're thinking too much. Clear your mind and just DO it."
Joshua took another deep, cleansing breath and cleared his mind…just like the voice told him to do. He closed his eyes and started working the lock again. This time he was pleasantly surprised when he heard the internal mechanism click, freeing him from his white-washed prison.
"Hey, would you look at that?" he said to himself. "I did it."
With the door open, Joshua was finally able to set eyes on his rescuer. He wasn't surprised that the man standing before him in the open doorway was unfamiliar to him; but he was surprised that the man looked so genuinely happy and relieved to see him. His face lit up in a brilliant smile just before a jubilant laugh sprang forth from his throat. "Heyes!" he whooped. "Are you ok?"
Some of the shock and uncertainty Joshua was feeling must have registered on his face, because almost as soon as it appeared the smile vanished from the other man's face. Concern clouded his eyes and he said again, more quietly this time, "Are you ok, Heyes?"
In a gesture so slight it might have been missed if the watcher had not been watching so intently, Joshua shook his head. In a voice unfamiliar to Kid; one filled with sadness and fear, Joshua said, "I'm not Hannibal Heyes. My name is Joshua Smith."
Now Kid understood what the girl had meant when she said Heyes had suffered a brain injury. His best friend and partner for all these years didn't remember he was Hannibal Heyes. Worse than that, he had a feeling that Heyes didn't know who Kid was either. But there was no time to think about that right now. There was no telling when the doctor or even the sheriff might come around. He needed to get Heyes out of here, and fast. There'd be time to fix Heyes later.
Heyes stared at him, his expression a mixture of confusion and something that Kid thought might be fear, fear of him, his friend and partner. "Can you ride?" he asked, forcing back the rush of painful emotions he thought might overcome him. Heyes didn't move. He stood in the middle of the room, barefooted, wearing only a long white cotton nightshirt. Kid started searching for his clothes. He found them in the top drawer of the dresser. "Can you ride?" he said again, more gruffly, covering the hurt he felt at realizing Heyes didn't recognize him.
"I'm not sure—I mean— yes, I can ride, but I'm not sure I should go with you."
"Do you want to spend the next twenty years in the Wyoming prison?" the blond man snapped.
"No. But I—"
"Then you just better listen to me. I know you don't remember me right now, but if you don't trust me and do what I say, that's exactly where you're gonna end up. We don't have time to talk about it right now." Kid's voice took on a pleading tone, "Just do as I say, please Heyes."
"Here, get dressed," he said as he tossed Heyes' pants and shirt at him. Heyes still didn't move.
"Now!" Kid finally yelled, startling Heyes into action. He pulled the nightshirt over his head and started dressing. By the time Kid found his boots, gun belt, and hat in another drawer, Heyes was dressed. He looked more like himself now, at least outwardly.
As for Joshua, he was lost in his own muddled thoughts. He didn't know who this man was but he had to assume that if he thought he was Hannibal Heyes then he was undoubtedly an outlaw. The way he wore his holster tied to his thigh implied that he was good with his gun, maybe real good. What would he do to him when he discovered he had helped the wrong man escape? Would he kill him just to get rid of him?
On the other hand, if he stayed here he wasn't sure he would be able to convince the sheriff that he had arrested an innocent man. So he didn't really have much choice. He was going to have to trust this man, maybe with his life.
Instinctively, Joshua strapped on his gun belt and tied his holster around his thigh.
It felt unnatural to Kid that he should be barking orders at Heyes. After all, Heyes was usually the one in charge and that was alright with Kid because he knew that their partnership was based on mutual respect and trust. They both had their strengths and they relied on each other for those strengths. But right now, Heyes' strength was somewhere else, so Kid needed to take control.
"OK. Let's go. I have some horses tied up in the alley." Still, Heyes hesitated. "Move," Kid snarled, with a little more venom than he intended, born out of fear for his life-long friend. Finally, with very few options left before him, Joshua decided to trust this stranger.
Light was beginning to filter through the trees sheltering the clearing where the two men had slept the night before. Joshua sat upright leaning against the thick trunk of one of those trees. He had been sitting there for several hours after trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Now he sat, sipping coffee, quietly staring at the man who slept peacefully curled up under a blanket a few feet away from him.
Kid Curry lay on his side, snoring softly, accustomed to sleeping wherever circumstances forced him to make his bed. Joshua watched him as he breathed evenly and deeply. He had spent the last several hours with him and although he had no recollection of him from before, he had to admit he felt very comfortable in his company.
They had made their exit from San Pasqual earlier that day near dusk and had ridden as fast and as far away from that small town as they could, keeping off the main road; preferring to ride cross country to keep from being followed as easily. The plan had apparently worked because they hadn't seen hide nor hair of another living person the rest of the day.
The two of them had ridden side by side until late into the night. Neither one had had much to say, but Joshua had noticed Curry watching him carefully most of the day. It seemed like every time he glanced the other man's way, Curry was staring at him. This scrutiny both reassured and terrified Joshua. It was reassuring to know that someone was watching out for him but absolutely terrifying because he had no idea what interest Kid Curry might have in him.
When they'd made camp the night before, Curry seemed determined to convince Joshua that he was Hannibal Heyes. "Come on Heyes. Snap out of it. How could you just up and forget everything about your past? Don't you remember all those banks we robbed? The amnesty?" In other circumstances, it might have struck Joshua funny—Kid Curry thinking he was Hannibal Heyes—but given the fact that everyone else seemed to share the same opinion, he was hard pressed to find any humor in it.
Finally, when all his encouragement was met by nothing more than a confused frown from Joshua, Curry had thrown his hands up in frustration and lay down to sleep. "We'll talk some more in the morning, Heyes. Right now, we both need to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be another long day."
Now Curry was stirring; stretching his legs to their full length under the thin blanket that covered him. He opened his eyes, squinting against the early morning light. "Morning, Heyes," he greeted with familiarity.
Joshua smiled politely. "Morning, Mr. Curry. Coffee's still hot if you want some."
Kid sat up, rubbing his hand through his tousled curls, and yawned, "Do me a favor, would ya, Heyes? Stop calling me Mr. Curry. It gives me the creeps. Just call me Kid."
"I can do that, I guess." Joshua thought for a moment and then continued, "Kid…you seem like a reasonable man or I wouldn't even consider saying this to you but you must realize that I'm not the person you think I am. Now I don't know how well you know this Mr. Heyes but I'm just not him. I'm Joshua Smith…I work for a bank and would never even consider robbing one. So surely you see that somehow you've made a mistake."
"Heyes, what happened to you? How did you end up hurt?"
"Now that's a funny thing. I don't remember much about that. I just remember being in a saloon, playing cards. Next thing I knew I woke up with a powerful headache and a lump the size of an egg on the back of my head."
"And you don't remember anything after the poker game? You don't remember how we was sitting there having a friendly game with some of the locals when the sheriff came in and got the drop on us?"
Joshua almost laughed at the very notion of what Kid was saying, but decided better of it and just shook his head 'no'.
Kid leaned forward, his exasperation showing on his face, "And you don't remember how he would have had us dead to rights if you hadn't flipped the card table over, throwing him off just long enough for me to draw my gun and shoot his out of his hand? And how we took off running through the back door…"
Joshua shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "No, sorry."
Kid's voice got louder as his frustration grew. "The posse? You don't remember running from the posse and your brilliant idea to split up? Which I should have known better than to go along with, by the way. Worst idea you ever had—"
"I'm sorry but that wasn't my idea. That wasn't me."
Kid had reached his limit. He yelled, "Heyes, I'm gonna blow your head off if you say that one more time, so help me."
Joshua's eyes widened, stunned into silence. Kid immediately regretted losing his temper. He knew Heyes wasn't being contrary and annoying on purpose. He just wasn't himself—literally. His voice softened and he said, "I'm sorry, Heyes. I didn't mean that. Don't you worry. We'll work it out…together, just like always. You'll see."
After a quick breakfast, the two men set out again, aiming to put more space between them and the town of San Pasqual. While they rode, Kid tried to jog Heyes' memory. "What about Big Mac McCreedy? You must remember him, don't you? And the bust of Caesar?"
"You can't possibly have forgotten Wheat and Kyle and the rest of the boys, can you have? After all the jobs we pulled with them?"
"The amnesty? Come on, Heyes…the amnesty! Remember how Lom went to go talk to the—"
Joshua's head snapped around to look at Kid. "Lom? Do you mean Lom Trevors?"
Kid's heart beat faster with excitement at this breakthrough. "Yes! Lom Trevors. Do you remember him?"
"Sure I remember Lom. He's the man who got me the job working at the bank—with Miss Porter…Gosh, she's great." Heyes smiled sweetly, remembering his fond feelings for the young bank manager. When he brought his thoughts back to the conversation, he asked Kid, "You know him?"
"Oh, Heyes. This is gonna be harder than I thought." Kid sighed and dropped into silence.
Later that day Joshua and Curry arrived at their destination, a raucous mining town set into the side of a mountain. Kid chose this town for two reasons. First, the two men had holed up there before while on the run from a posse very much like the one that had been chasing them until recently. He hoped that being in a familiar place might help jog Heyes' memory.
Second, the town was large enough and rowdy enough that they would be able to effectively hide in plain sight without drawing any undue attention to themselves. The law in the town had long since given up trying to maintain much order and it was a perfect place to stop for a while, at least long enough for Heyes to recover some more from his injuries.
Joshua glanced over at Kid Curry. By the contemplative expression on his face, one he recognized as Heyes' 'thinking' face, Kid knew he had something he wanted to say. "What is it, Heyes?"
Joshua cleared his throat, reluctant to speak what was on his mind for fear of what Kid Curry's reaction might be. He didn't know the man well, except for his reputation as a notorious gunfighter and the last thing Joshua wanted to do was make him angry. Finally, he said, "Mr. Curry…um, Kid…I've been thinking."
"I'd say it's about time you tried that."
"Hmm?"
"Nothing. What were you thinking?"
"Well, I was thinking…don't get me wrong…I'm grateful for what you did back there, helping me break out of that room…but I think we maybe ought to go our separate ways now. You obviously have me mistaken for your friend, Heyes, but I'm telling you I'm not him. And as a law-abiding citizen---well, surely you can see that I can't associate with an outlaw like yourself. Besides, I gotta get back to Porterville. I'm sure they're all wondering where I ran off to."
Kid couldn't believe his ears. He had the urge to drag Heyes off his horse right there in the middle of the street and pound some sense into him. It took all the restraint he could muster to maintain his composure. Keeping his voice even, he said, "I see your point, Heyes. Only thing is, I can't let you go. Ya see, whether you remember me or now, you ARE Hannibal Heyes and there ain't no job to send you back to."
Joshua fixed his gaze on Kid Curry. "So you're going to force me to accompany you? Against my will?"
Kid nodded thoughtfully, "Yep, I guess if you want to put it that way, that's what I'm gonna do."
Joshua lapsed into silence, considering what he had just heard. Kid Curry was apparently suffering some delusion to believe so strongly that he was Hannibal Heyes, for Pete's sake, but if Curry had his mind set on holding him prisoner there wasn't much he could do about it, at least not until he felt more like himself. His head still ached something awful most of the time and his thoughts just weren't clear. He had no choice but to go along with Curry…for now. Besides, except for the fact that he was plumb loco, Joshua had to admit that he liked the outlaw Curry. He knew he shouldn't but he just felt comfortable in his company.
As for the Kid, he hoped that with time he would be able to help Heyes connect with his old self. If that didn't happen—well, he'd have to deal with that when it happened. Except now, he had to worry about whether or not Heyes was going to co-operate. It would be just like him to try to find some way to give him the slip. Well, he just wasn't going to give him that chance. From now on, Kid was going to stick to him like glue.
He figured he'd have to worry about that when it happened, if it did. For now, his plan was to get a room, get Heyes settled, and then try to knock some sense back into his head.
By the time they were checked into the hotel, Kid could tell that Heyes was exhausted. His face was pale and drawn from fatigue. His deep brown eyes stood out in stark contrast against his skin. Kid wanted to talk but knew that his friend needed time to rest first. "Heyes, you look terrible. Get some rest."
Joshua didn't argue. Wearily, he dropped heavily onto the bed. After removing his boots, he lay down on his side and curled up, falling asleep within a few minutes. Kid unfolded the quilt he found at the foot of the bed. Gently and carefully, he placed it over his sleeping friend. Then he sat down and watched him sleep, wondering how, after all they had been through together, they had ended up this way.