Thought I had taken care of this, but that picture still haunted me. I had to take a second approach.

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Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes were partners. No, they were so much more than partners. Wheat and Kyle were partners. Butch and Sundance were partners. But Kid and Heyes were so much more than that, so much closer than that. Heyes once described them as being like potatoes and gravy, each good in its own right, but together they blended and complimented each other so perfectly that neither was complete without the other.

Kid accepted this little pearl of wisdom, but Heyes understood it. In fact, he knew the exact moment in their lives when this blending of souls took seed. It was a quiet, late summer, Kansas Sunday afternoon seventeen years into the past now.

The moment had come to be called Bloody Kansas.

Heyes was eleven years old. Kid was eight. The two Kansas cousins were inseparable. They always had been. They both worked hard on their family farms. One struggled in school while the other had a natural passion for learning. One was fascinated with guns, the other with books. One had a face of pure innocence, the other an almost devious twinkle of the eye. But each somehow complimented the other, nurtured the other, blended in to the very soul of the other.

Being the older of the two, Heyes remembered every detail of that Kansas Sunday afternoon. It was those vivid memories that evoked a moodiness in him sometimes, a darkness that plunged him into an abyss of despair. And Kid was the only person capable of pulling him out of that abyss, often simply with a compassionate look from those knowing, innocent blue eyes.

Kid though could recall only flashes of memories, fleeting snippets of the horrors, and he was content with that. As an adult, Kid was even grateful that his memories were clouded and obscure. It was easier for Kid to tuck those memories deep into the recesses of his mind. He seldom consciously opened himself up to those memories. Instead, they scratched their way to the surface at night, in his dreams. As a child he'd wake up in the middle of the night trembling and scared and Heyes would crawl into Kid's bed and wrap his arms around him, whispering soothing words until Kid drifted back to sleep.

Yes, the two former outlaws were like potatoes and gravy.

So when Heyes read a news article about the Bloody Kansas Memorial to be held on the last Sunday of August in their hometown of Darby, Heyes wanted to attend. He wanted to finally put closure to the darkest point in his life, in their lives.

Kid was initially and expectedly hesitant and resistant to the idea. He felt that refusing to think about those memories, effectively brought him closure and he had no desire to open old wounds. But Heyes' persistence over the course of several days, effectively wore Kid down and he agreed to go with the stipulation that they spend only one night in Darby, and they leave immediately after the ceremony.

So they arrived in Darby on a hot August Saturday afternoon, only to find the hotel full and no vacancies in either of the two boarding houses. Reluctantly, they headed out toward the land that was once their family farms.

Both farms had long since been abandoned. Kid's house had been burned to the ground on that Bloody Kansas day, while Heyes' home had simply suffered the long process of erosion, hastened by neglect and harsh Kansas winters. They led their horses to the stream that ran between both farms, the stream where they had spent many the warm, lazy afternoons fishing, skinny dipping, or lazing beside in the warm summer sun. There they made camp, caught fresh fish for supper, and took a reminiscent dip in the cool rushing waters of the stream.

They ventured into town for an evening of beer and poker, walked the boardwalks of the single street, and recalled snitching candy from the jars that lined the counter of the mercantile, climbing the old oak tree in the schoolyard at recess, peeking under the bat wing doors of the saloon to see what real men did inside that rowdy, music and smoke filled establishment, and appearing to be the souls of angels every Sunday morning as they sat with the families, filling two pews in the whitewashed, single room church, stealing glances and sharing mischievous grins at each other throughout the service.

Kid was surprised by so many happy memories that rose to the surface, memories he had long thought forgotten, and he began to think perhaps Heyes had been right about coming back, perhaps Darby wasn't just the bleak, dark, horrid place of his youth.

So the next day, when the Memorial Service had ended, Kid didn't object to Heyes' suggestion that they visit the farms on their way out of town. After all, Kid's farm was gone, it had long ago surrendered itself back to the wilds of nature. All Kid would be forced to see were fields of wild grass and maybe an old stone well.

They came to Heyes' farm first and rode silently past the rubble of rotted wood that once was a single story, neatly maintained home. Beyond that were overgrown graves encased in a rusty wrought iron fence. Here Heyes stopped and dismounted. He walked up the the fence and wrapped gloved hands tightly around the wrought iron. Kid saw Heyes' head bow and he could feel the darkness returning. He waited silently for a few minutes before softly, gently calling Heyes back to the present with the sound of his name.

Heyes mounted, locked thankful eyes with his partner, and pulled hard on the reins to lead his sorrel away from the only place he had ever felt truly safe.

They traveled on to Kid's family homestead and spent some time having to hunt for the spot they both recalled as burial spot of his parents, two brothers, and younger sister. Like Heyes, Kid dismounted and approached the site alone. He crouched down and pulled a blade of dried grass from the ground and slipped an end between his lips. He spoke silently to those resting beneath his feet.

Kid tried to stand, but found himself suddenly engulfed in the darkness. He felt frozen, unable to breathe, trapped and claustrophobic. He forced a breath and Heyes could see Kid's entire body wilt before him.

"Heyes," Kid whispered, his voice barely audible. "I remember."

Heyes' eyes closed, his lips pressed together tightly. He quickly dismounted and walked up behind his partner and placed his hand on Kid's shoulder.

Kid remained crouched beside the graves. He bit down hard on his lower lip as his own eyes squeezed shut. Heyes could feel Kid's body tremble.

Heyes had no words of comfort, but the hand on Kid's shoulder remained steady and firm.

Slowly Kid's weary, grief stricken eyes opened, moved beyond the ground before him to the vast fields of tall brown grass that gently fluttered in the soft breeze. As he pulled himself up, Heyes' hand slipped from Kid's shoulder.

Kid's head turned, his eyes now focused on the single tree at the top of the gently rolling hills in the distance. In his mind he saw eight year old Jed Curry clinging desperately to the trunk of the tree, his head peering around the trunk to the devastation before him, to the ground where Kid now stood. Kid's chin began to quiver. He wanted to reach out to that child, to wrap his arms around him and draw him close, to wrap him in the comfort the child never knew.

In his mind, Kid looked back beyond the tree and saw Heyes racing toward that eight year old boy, yanking him harshly to the ground to hide them both from the view of the soldiers. Kid could feel the hand pressed tightly against Jed's mouth, the weight of Heyes' body on top of him. He could feel the tears that fell from his cousin's eyes as they both lay hidden in the grass.

Slowly the images faded and Kid found himself standing just a few yards from that tree. He turned and saw Heyes still standing near the graves, protectively watching him.

Always protectively watching him.

Kid took a slow, deep breath, gathering his thoughts, facing the harsh truths of his newfound memories. Their eyes locked, never wavering as Kid slowly made his way back to his partner.

"Are you alright?" Heyes asked softly.

Their eyes remained locked as Kid slowly shook his head. "But I will be," he whispered.

"You ready?"

"Heyes?"

A sad but comforting smile formed on Heyes' face and he slowly reached out and wrapped an arm around Kid's shoulders.

"We're partners, Kid. Always and forever" Heyes said, uttering the only words necessary.