This Old Gang
In honor of Earl Holliman's birthday, just a little look into the very aged lives of the Devil's Hole gang
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Hannibal Heyes walked out of the leaders cabin, with a fair amount of struggle maneuvering the metal walker over the ridge in the floor of the doorway. He wore a tightly knit brown cardigan despite the unusually warm late September day.
"Got me an idea, Kid," Heyes said, this time maneuvering around his partner's wheelchair to sit his weary bones in the wooden rocking chair.
"You say something, Heyes?" Kid asked
"I said I got me an idea."
"Uh?"
"I got me an idea!"
"No need to be shouting, Heyes. I'm sitting right here beside you," Kid replied as he backed his wheelchair up to give his partner a bit more room.
"It's cold this morning," Heyes said as he sat down.
"I ain't old!" Kid replied with a bit of anger in his voice.
"I didn't say you were old. I said it's cold!"
"Ah."
"You seen any of the boys this morning?"
"Saw Wheat heading to the privy about half an hour ago," Kid replied.
"What is he, about ninety now? The old coot," Heyes asked.
"Who do you want me to shoot?" Kid asked.
"Where's your hearing horn, Kid?" Heyes asked and looked about the floor. He spied the horn next to Kid's wheelchair and picked it up and thrust it in Kid's face.
"I don't need no hearing horn," Kid protested. "I hear better than you do, Heyes."
"If that's true, then why did I come out here, Kid?"
"What?"
"Why did I come out here!"
"You mean you don't remember?"
Heyes closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Use the hearing horn!"
With obvious exasperation on his face, Kid placed the small end of the horn up to his ear.
"Can you hear me now?"
"I hear you just fine, Heyes."
"Good. You happen to know what day this is?"
"It's Friday. You having trouble keeping track of days now, Heyes?"
"It's Wheat's birthday, damn it!"
"You say something to me, Heyes?" Wheat asked as he walked past the leader's cabin, being cautious where he placed his cane with each step.
"Just telling Kid that's it's your birthday, Wheat."
Wheat smiled and walked up to the porch steps, but didn't try to climb them.
"Ninety years old, Heyes, and don't feel a day over eighty-five," Wheat said proudly.
"Ate five what?" Kid asked.
Wheat looked at Heyes with a condescending smile on his face and just shook his head slowly.
"When Mrs. Havershall gets here. I'll have her help me and Kid over to the bunkhouse. Kid and me got a party planned for you, Wheat."
Wheat smiled. "A party? Well that's real nice."
"What do you mean we got mice?" Kid said. "We ain't got mice!"
Heyes reached over and put a hand on Kid's leg and gave it a couple of pats to soothe his partner. Kid brushed the hand away, then closed his eyes for a nap.
"Getting worse, ain't it Heyes?" Wheat asked, referring to Kid's hearing.
"Yeah. Doc says it's from all that shooting practice he done for so many years. All that loud noise."
"Yeah, life takes it's toll," Wheat replied.
"You be careful walking back to the bunkhouse, Wheat. I still think we ought to put indoor plumbing in there for you fellas."
"Heyes, we don't want to go modernizing this place. Me and the boys like it just the way it is," Wheat said as he turned to make his way back to the bunkhouse.
Heyes smiled as he watched Wheat plod his way back to the bunkhouse. "The boys," now referred to just three people besides Wheat. Those three being Lobo, Preacher, and Kyle.
Yes, the gang had been dwindling in numbers for years, primarily because it was more of a boys club now than it was a gang. But those that remained were content to live their lives out in the peaceful quiet of the once notorious hideout.
When Mrs. Havershall, they woman they employed to cook and clean for them, arrived that morning, Heyes got up and slowly followed her into the cabin, leaving Kid still sleeping in the warmth of the Autumn sun.
"Think we'd best have this party at noon," Heyes told her.
Mrs. Havershall nodded. I'll start taking things over there now, let the boys put up the decorations."
Just before noon, Mrs. Havershall carried the last of the food, a three layer chocolate birthday cake, over to the bunkhouse. When she walked in to the bunkhouse, she stopped abruptly. The four aged outlaws stood proudly under the handmade, poorly scribbled banner that hung no more than arm's length above their heads, as none of them was steady enough to climb the step ladder.
"You boys did a fine job," Mrs. Havershall said and placed the cake in the middle of the table.
"I'll light the candles," Kyle said excitedly. Kyle liked anything involving a flame.
"You just wait till I get Heyes and Kid over here," Mrs. Havershall told him and Kyle dropped his chin and took a step back.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Mrs. Havershall returned to the leader's cabin to help Heyes and Kid across the yard to the bunkhouse.
"Don't forget that backpack. It's got the presents in it," Heyes told her.
Mrs. Havershall picked up the backpack and dropped it in Kid's lap.
"Don't forget Kid's hearing horn, too."
That too was plopped in Kid's lap.
Mrs. Havershall walked in front of Kid's wheelchair and stooped down to look at him face to face.
"You wait right here," she told him.
"I can too hear," Kid protested.
Sighing heavily, Mrs. Havershall held an open palm in front of Kid. "Wait!" she shouted.
"Humph," Kid replied, but did as instructed and Mrs. Havershall stood and took hold of Heyes' arm and walked down the wheelchair ramp with him and over to the bunkhouse. Then she returned and wheeled Kid to the bunkhouse.
Once everyone was inside, Heyes motioned to everyone and an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday reverberated throughout the room. Even Kid picked up on what they were doing and joined in on the singing.
"Alright, Kyle. You can light the candles now," Mrs. Havershall said and everyone sat at the table.
"Make a wish, Wheat," Heyes said.
Wheat thought for a minute, then leaned forward to blow out the nine candles. Seeing he did not have the wind power to extinguish the candles, all the men leaned in to help.
"I'll cut up the cake while you fellas dole out the presents," Mrs. Havershall said.
Kyle, who always thought himself best friends with Wheat, was the first to present Wheat with a small brown paper wrapped present.
"This is from me and Lobo, and Preacher," Kyle said proudly.
"What's this?" Wheat asked after opening the present and gazing at the round rubber piece with a hole in the middle.
"It a rubber stopper for the bottom of your cane. It'll give your cane a better grip," Kyle said proudly.
Wheat looked at Heyes and rolled his eyes, but thanked the boys for the gift.
Kid reached into the backpack and pulled his present out. It too was wrapped in brown paper but the shape was obvious.
"Hope that's whiskey and not rum," Wheat said with a smile.
"I thought you didn't like Rum," Kid replied
Wheat sighed and unwrapped the whiskey. He held it up to Kid and very distinctly mouthed the words "Thank you." Kid smiled.
"This one's from me, Wheat," Heyes said, handing Wheat a small solid package wrapped in festive paper.
"The store had to special order it and I had them wrap it for you."
Wheat was a bit more careful unwrapping this present and a wide smiled spread across his face when he saw the contents of the package.
"Heyes, a large print poker deck! That's the best present I ever got."
Heyes smiled proudly. "Thought between Kid's whiskey and my deck of cards, we could have a fine afternoon," Heyes replied.
"At least until it time for everybody's nap," Mrs. Havershall said as she doled out the slices of birthday cake.
"Heyes, you got any money? I can't play poker without some money," Kid grumbled.
"We can just play for chips, Kid," Heyes replied.
"Chimps? I ain't playing for no damn monkey. Good Lord, Heyes, is that the damn idea you was trying to tell me about?"
"Chips! Poker Chips!" Heyes shouted.
"Well, that sounds better," Kid grumbled and the others all chuckled.
"Well Heyes, Kid, boys," Wheat said. "It don't matter to me what we play for. This is the best birthday I have ever had and I thank you for it," Wheat said. "You know, we might not be much of a gang now, ain't robbed nothing is fifty years, but the Devil's Hole gang...Well you fellas are the best, everyone last one of you."
"Happy Birthday, Wheat," the gang replied in unison.
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