What Their Friends Think
When my Editor told me he wanted a story about what makes Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes such cohesive partners, I thought I was being handed a fluff story. I figured I could write eight or ten paragraphs about brains and brawn and be done with it. But when I turned it in, well my Editor read a paragraph or two and just shook his head and tore that article up into little pieces. Then he proceeded to tell me he expected my next attempt to be about all the fine little intricacies that only folks that really know these two could tell me. That's when I realized this was going to take some time, and quite a bit of research.
Well, everybody's heard those rumors about amnesty, and it's true that Heyes and Curry haven't been blamed for any robberies in a couple of years now, so I figured that was the place to start. I scheduled an interview with Governor Moonlight and we started the interview with background information, the usual routine of a good reporter. It helps to establish a kind of rapport, to make the person being interviewed feel a little more comfortable, and the interview was moving along well until I brought up the names of Heyes and Curry and right away the Governor got all tight-lipped. When I asked about the rumor of an amnesty, he laughed and said making such an offer would be political suicide to a politician. I walked out of that interview not knowing anything more than when I started.
The Governor was the only lead I had, and my Editor had given me a three week deadline,so I figured I'd better do some research to avoid hitting any more dead ends. So I spent an entire afternoon at the library, looking up articles on every robbery the Devil's Hole Gang ever committed and jotting down the names of every Sheriff, town, and citizen mentioned in those articles. By the time I walked out of that library, I had the names of four Sheriffs, a Judge, a Bannerman Detective, a couple of people currently incarcerated, and a couple of ordinary, everyday citizens.
Having a well thought out plan, I spent the next two weeks in a saddle, visiting almost everyone of those towns and people I had researched, and molding a very pronounced bowed leg to my gait.
My first stop was a little town called Porterville. The Sheriff there was a man named Lom Trevers. I had read an article about the Porterville bank being blown up and, although the article didn't mention Heyes or Curry, it did say that the Sheriff was a former outlaw, so I decided to take a chance on him maybe him knowing Heyes and Curry from his former occupation.
"Heyes and Curry? Never met em," Trevers said from his chair behind his desk. "Got posters of em," he added, pointing with his thumb to the wall behind his desk.
"I'm not a bounty hunter, Sheriff, just a newspaper reporter. I'm not even trying to find Heyes and Curry. My assignment is just to find out what kind of men they really are, why their partnership works so well. You know, the human interest sort of thing."
"I told you, I don't know Heyes and Curry, and if I ever did come across them two, they would find themselves locked up behind them bars," Trevers repeated, now pointing to the cells across the room.
"I understand there are rumors of Heyes and Curry seeking amnesty," I said, trying to draw the man out a bit.
"I ain't heard that rumor and I don't know a thing about it."
"I understand you yourself were once an outlaw. Did you come across Heyes or Curry during your outlaw days, Sheriff?"
"You make it sound like outlaws have some sort of a social club. Well they don't. If you're an outlaw and you ride with a gang, you stick pretty tight with your gang. I never rode with the Devil's Hole Gang. Now if you'll excuse me Mr...?"
"Harshfield."
"Mr. Harshfield. If you don't mind, I got a job to do."
"Sheriff, do you happen to have any extra copies of those wanted posters?" I asked.
"NO!"
Well, I walked out of that office and leaned against the building and scratched Sheriff Trever's name off my list.
Wyatt Earp was in Kansas and Marshall Slater was in Laredo, so I decided to move them to the bottom of my list. No sense traveling half the country if I was just going to get the same kind of reception I had just gotten from Trevers. No, I'd save those two as a last resort.
Laramie was only a two day ride from Porterville, so I decided my next stop would be the Wyoming Territorial Prison. According to my list, I figured I could find at least two of the names on my list residing there, and two were at the nearby Women's Prison. I decided to visit the women's prison first.
Blanche Graham had a permanent residence at the Women's Prison, having murdered a man, her husband I believe. She was more than happy to have an audience, someone to listen to her tales of innocence and coercion.
"I knew right off those two shouldn't be trusted. Who goes all the way to Mexico to round up emaciated cows? But that was their story, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Heyes there, he's a charmer," she said with a kind of far off look in her eyes.
"A charmer?" I asked, trying to prod her in to more detail.
"That Heyes, he's a slick one alright. Knows his way around women. Knows exactly what a woman wants to hear and says it in a way that...well, you get the picture."
"He works with a partner, Kid Curry?"
Blanche nodded. Those two have the fine art of deception down so smooth between em it's like water running downhill on a smooth sheet of ice. Blanche said with a wistful smile on her face. They don't even have to talk to know exactly what the other one is thinking, what he's planning"
I saw her face harden and her eyes grow cold and I stayed quiet, waiting for her to go on.
"They're both as ruthless as the day is long. Here they are a couple of outlaws with a handsome price on their heads, and they was willing to devise that plan to lure me back over the border and turn me in...all for a few measly dollars. The only thing either one of em values is money... Money and each other. Oh, I don't mean there's anything... funny going on between them. It's just...well they wasn't just cut from the same cloth. It's more like, they are the same cloth...interwoven, if you know what I mean."
My second interview was with a woman I knew as "Blackjack" Jenny Black. When she walked in to the room there was an air of grace about her, despite the dull gray, ill fitting prison uniform she wore. Jenny smiled a sweet, sad smile as she sat down and I knew immediately her story was not that of a hardened criminal.
I introduced myself and explained the purpose of the interview. Jenny smiled again and nodded her head.
"Have you seen the boys?" she asked. "Oh, such sweet boys they are."
I smiled, knowing the angle of my research had taken a new turn. "Would you mind telling me how you know them?" I asked.
"Oh, I've known Heyes and The Kid almost since they were just kids. Heyes would do anything for me and Kid, well Kid reminds me so of my own boy, Billy... so sweet and gentle. There's an innocence to Kid and Billy that just endears them to your heart the minute you meet em. Have you met Kid and Heyes?"
"No, but I'm beginning to think I'd like to."
"You'd like them. Either one of em would give you the shirt off their back. You know they never killed no one when they was robbing banks and trains. Killing just ain't in their blood. Even as good a shot as Kid is, killing ain't something he takes lightly."
"I've been told that the relationship between Heyes and Curry is...unique."
Jennie nodded. "Two peas of a pod them two are. How would I describe it...they...compliment each other, their thinking sorta blends together, like they each knows exactly what the other is thinking or planning...even feeling."
"You think a lot of those two, don't you Jenny?"
"They have come to my aide in a pinch more than once. If they think of you as a friend, why they are as loyal as the day is long."
"Jenny, do you know if there is any truth to the rumors of an amnesty?"
"It's true. They've told me, but don't you quote me on that. Part of that amnesty deal is that word don't get out about it."
Because I could easily see that Jenny herself had a sweet innocence to her, I right away decided to honor her request and I made no note of the amnesty. Now if someone else were to confirm the amnesty, it might make it's way into the article, but this woman would not be my source of information on that subject.
I left the woman's prison with my first real glimpse into the minds of these two intriguing outlaws. Blanche Graham was a bitter woman, but despite all the things she said about Heyes and Curry, I suspect there was a bit of admiration in her words. I suspect she would willingly encounter them again if she could. And Jenny...well Jenny loved them like a mother.
The Territorial Prison was just a few miles away, so I rode there and spent an hour arranging a group meeting with Curt Clitterhouse and Winford Fletcher. Of course, each of those men had to consent to being interviewed, and two armed guards would be present and, thankfully, I would be separated from those prisoners by iron bars.
So the following day, I arrived at the prison and met once again with the Warden. He explained to me that Heyes and Curry had turned Clitterhouse, (a former sheriff himself), in to the law for trying to steal money that had been stolen by a gang of thieves lesser known than the Devil's Hole Gang's former leaders. Fletcher was in prison for a bungled embezzlement attempt.
When I was led into the room for the interview, there were three empty chairs on the other side of the bars. When the prisoners walked in, Fletcher took the end seat on my right, while Clitterhouse sat in the end seat on the left, leaving the middle seat empty. I suspect being in the same room as Clitterhouse made Fletcher rather nervous.
"I am Maxwell Harshfield, a reported for the Cheyenne Daily News," I explained, trying very hard to keep my voice steady. "I am researching an article on Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry..."
Before I could finish my introduction, Clitterhouse turned to his right and spit on the floor. Then he raised cold, hate-filled eyes to me.
"Scum."
From the corner of my eye I saw Fletcher nodding his head in agreement.
"Could you elaborate Mr. Clitterhouse?" I asked, trying to keep my voice void of all emotion, especially fear.
"Heyes and Curry are the lowest of the low life. They dwell in scum. Thieves and liars is what they are. No respect for the law."
"The article I am writing is...more about their partnership," I said, trying to direct this man away from his anger and animosity.
"They're partners because nobody else would have em. They'd turn in their own mothers if there was a nickel in it for em. If I ever come up against them two again, they won't know what hit them."
"You being a former Sheriff, Mr. Clitterhouse, is there any truth to the rumors of amnesty?"
"AMNESTY! "All those two deserve is a slow death in a hot hole."
"A hot hole?"
"Let em bake to death."
I decided it might be better to turn my attention to Mr. Fletcher. Perhaps he might see Heyes and Curry from a different perspective.
"Mr. Fletcher, what is your opinion of Heyes and Curry?" I asked.
Fletcher was a nervous sort of man, fearful of the man sitting near him, fearful of Heyes and Curry. I knew immediately he was walking a fine tightrope, not wanting to gain the ire of Clitterhouse or the outlaws.
"They're shysters alright, can't trust either one of them. Mr. Clitterhouse is right, they would sell their own mothers for a nickel. And they're escape artists, too. They are very good at dodging the law. That's all I have to say about them."
"Why do you say they are shysters?" I asked, trying to eke out a bit more information.
"Con games, They are very good at elaborate con games."
"Mr. Fletcher..."
"No. No more. Curry is too good with a gun. I'm not saying another word."
Sitting at the table in my hotel room that night, I carefully crossed off the names of the people I had interviewed. I had thus far obtained a wide diversity of opinion about the two outlaws and knew the real Heyes and Curry must surely fall somewhere in the middle. I studied the remaining names on my list. I had eight days left to conclude my interviews and the location ranged from Texas to Kansas, with Colorado thrown in for good measure.
It was time to start traveling by train.
Luck was on my side when I arrived in Denver and discovered that Detective Harry Briscoe was currently assigned to a desk job in the Denver Office. Harry Briscoe was a nervous sort of man, with more than a touch of paranoia blended in. Briscoe was willing enough to talk about Heyes and Curry, but insisted that the interview be conducted in a saloon on the seedier side of town and he insisted that we arrive separately.
When I walked in to the dark, grungy saloon, Briscoe was seated in the back of the room. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses were sitting on the table. As I approached the table I noticed Briscoe's head slowly dropping till his chin nearly touched his chest. I surmised he was trying not to be noticed, in an obviously noticeable sort of way.
"What can you tell me about Heyes and Curry?" I asked as I sat down.
Briscoe reached for the whiskey and filled both our glasses. He continued to keep his head bent down, but he raised his eyes to me.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, holding his glass in front of his mouth as he spoke.
"What kind of men are they?"
"That's hard to say. They are outlaws, you know?" he asked, and the question sounded genuine.
"Yes, I know," I replied.
"You know they don't go by Heyes and Curry?"
My eyebrows raised. I was not aware of that fact.
"What names do they go by?"
Harry leaned forward cross the table. "Would you believe Smith and Jones?"
"Smith and Jones?"
"That's right. But they'll answer to Heyes and Curry, at least to me they will."
"So, you have actually crossed paths with them?"
Harry smiled proudly. "On more than one occasion."
"But you've never caught them? You've never arrested them?"
Harry's expression drooped and I could tell he had revealed something he had not intended to reveal."
"We have a sort of...mutual understanding...They are...confidants of mine."
"Snitches?"
Briscoe snorted and cleared his throat. "I wouldn't exactly call them that. They're a..."
"Informants?"
"Nooo, not that either."
I decided to redirect the conversation. "Tell me what kind of men they are."
"Oh, well," Harry said and visibly relaxed a bit. "They're hard core criminals, no doubt about that, but they aren't above doing a man a favor once in a while, either."
"Have they done you any favors?"
"They have...helped me solve a case or two."
"Have you ever heard about a bid for amnesty?"
"Amnesty? Them two?" Briscoe laughed."Heyes and Curry are outlaws. No Governor in his right mind is going to consider amnesty for those two. Why, they're worth ten thousand dollars a piece, you know."
I nodded and couldn't help but smile at the detective who seemed not to know a great deal about the two men he claimed to have some sort of working relationship with. But then it occurred to me that as a Bannerman Detective, he might just be intentionally trying to lead be a bit astray. I suddenly couldn't decide if this man was actually very clever, or simply inept.
"The focus of my article, Mr. Briscoe, is on their partnership, the workings of their partnership."
"What's so interesting about that?"
"A lot of people seem to think it's a very unique partnership."
Harry frowned and shook his head.
"Nothing unique there. There partnership is based on their need to survive, just like Butch Cassidy and Sundance, Henry Brown and Billy The Kid, and... well, I'm sure there are others"
"Some have said they are so closely meshed, they know what the other is thinking," I suggested.
"Well Heyes there, he's always thinking. I suppose Kid might read him a bit better than most, but, no... I don't see it."
"Do either of them have a good side to them?"
"A good side?" Harry asked and appeared to be contemplating something. "Yeah, I'd say they have a sort of good side. Don't think they show it to just everybody though. You have to remember they are outlaws. There's an image to maintain."
"An image?"
"Well sure, just like we Bannerman men. That's why people respect us, cause of the image we present."
"Not the work that you do?" I asked.
"Well, that too of course."
It was late in the afternoon when I stepped out into the sunshine once again. I had just one more stop that day, so I hailed a carriage to take me to the Jordan house on West Palmer Street.
Jesse Jordan answered the door and I explained who I was and why I was knocking on his door. Jesse was a nice, amicable sort of man and invited me into his parlor, then disappeared to find his wife, Belle. I had sent Mrs. Jordan a telegram and she had responded with an acceptance to the interview request, so while she and I began to talk, Jesse went to the kitchen to get us both some coffee.
"Two of the nicest, finest people I have ever known," Belle said when I asked her to describe Heyes and Curry.
I had done my research and knew that she and her daughters had been arrested and charged with aiding and abetting. I also knew Belle had been convicted, that is until Kid Curry turned himself in so he could testify. This interview I expected to be very unique.
"So, Heyes and Curry offered to let you and your husband turn them in for the reward?"
"Yes, that's right. At first we said no, but they were very convincing and very sincere."
"But that's not quite how it worked out?"
Belle tried to hide a smile with a frown. "Well, at the time our two daughters were quite the little tomboys, both were very good with rifles. They decided to take matters into their own hands. That's what led to all the trouble."
"Children can be a handful."
"They certainly can. When the whole situation was finally resolved, Mr. Curry and Mr. Heyes gave us enough money to return to Denver, so the girls could have a proper upbringing and Jesse could go back to teaching. The money they gave us came to them honestly, I might add."
"My article, Mrs. Jordan, is focused on the relationship between Heyes and Curry. A lot of people seem to think it is a very unique relationship."
Mrs. Jordan nodded. "I know exactly what they mean. If one is thinking meat, the other is thinking potatoes. Whatever the plan is, they know exactly what the other needs to accomplish it. Why Jesse and I have been married for fourteen years and we don't share the intuition that those two boys have. It's remarkable."
"Do you think of them as outlaws or friends?"
Mrs. Jordan smiled. "You can't ignore the fact that they are outlaws. But they are certainly friends, first."
"Have you stayed in contact with them?"
"Now Mr. Harshfield, you know I can't answer that," she replied just as her husband brought in a tray with coffee.
"Can't answer what?" he asked.
"If we have stayed in contact with Thaddeus and Joshua."
Mr. Jordan nodded. "Well, I think it's fair to say we have not stayed in contact with them."
By the time this interview concluded, it was getting late and I had an evening train to catch. I honestly felt that I had already gathered more than enough information for a very interesting article, but I was still lacking any real perspective from a lawman's point of view, so I decided the trip to Laredo was definitely necessary. So I boarded the train and spent the better part of two days traveling to Laredo, Texas.
"I never met Hannibal Heyes," Marshal Slater said when I sat with him in the cafe for an interview that also included my buying the Marshall his lunch. "Kid Curry on the other hand, well he came as quite a surprise to me."
"How was that?"
"Just how polite a peaceable he was. Didn't put up no trouble when he got off that stage and Grace Turner identified him to me and my men. Just as nice as he could be."
"Why do you suppose that was?"
"Well, from what I could see, I think her turning him in came as a surprise to him...I think he might have fallen for her. You know, he trusted her. That's a mistake a lot of outlaws make, trusting somebody, you know. Of course, as it turned out, he might have been right in trusting her."
"Why's that?"
"Well, she busted him outta jail. Blew a hole right through the wall, she did, of course not till after she collected the ten thousand dollar reward on him."
I smiled. I had never heard this story and the life of Kid Curry was beginning to sound pretty incredible and exciting to me.
"Did she run off with him?"
"Nobody knows for sure...Course I've never heard her name connected with his outside of this one event, so I'm guessing probably not."
"Any idea where she is? I'd be interested in an interview with her."
Marshall Slater shook his head. "Ain't heard of her again. She's probably going by an alias or moved to another country by now."
While the Marshall's story was certainly fascinating, it offered nothing regarding the relationship between the two outlaws, so I caught the next eastbound train and headed toward home, certain I had enough information to write the article my Editor would approve.
The eastbound train left Laredo at ten in the evening and I boarded and settled into one of many empty seats, closed my eyes, and settled in for a nice, sound sleep.
Two hours later I was abruptly awakened when my legs were shoved off the seat to the floor. I straightened myself quickly, ready to take exception with the conductor. But I found myself looking directly into the face of a man with a pair of dark brown, almost black eyes, and a very confident yet appealing smile.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" the man asked and sat down, uncomfortably close to me.
I was about to shift to the opposing seat when I saw another man, this one with dirty blonde hair, deep blue eyes, a wide, confident smile, and a six shooter in his hand, thankfully pointed to the ceiling.
"Who are you?" I asked with more than a bit of urgency in my voice and suspicion in my mind.
The blonde slowly holstered his gun. "Well now, you've been traveling across half the country asking about us. I would think you would know who we are."
My mouth dropped and I felt a sudden urge to...pee.
"Heyes and Curry?"
"Keep your voice down Mr. Harshfield," Heyes said and moved slightly away, giving me a bit more room in my seat. "We're just...curious about what exactly it is you're doing."
"You see, we've got friends and they let us know when someone starts asking too many questions about us," Curry said.
"I'm...I'm a reporter," I stammered.
Heyes smiled at his partner. "Well, that's a fine profession."
"Yeah, we got nothing against reporters," Kid said.
"Reporters can sometimes be very helpful," Heyes added.
"Of course, they can also be a bit...dangerous at times, don't you think, Heyes?"
Heyes nodded. "But it all depends on what it is they're reporting."
"Like telling wild tales about things such as..."
"Amnesty," Heyes said, finishing the sentence for his partner.
"Exactly," Kid added.
"You see, Mr. Harshfield," Heyes said, sitting back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other. "Amnesty is a very...sensitive subject. In fact, amnesty should really only be discussed by those people directly involved."
"Like the Governor..." Kid said.
"And maybe Heyes and Curry," Heyes added.
"Mentioning it in a newspaper article might just...put an end to that whole possibility."
I nodded to them both, fully understanding what they were telling me.
"Now if someone was foolish enough to write an article that even hinted at the possibility of Heyes and Curry getting an amnesty..." Heyes began.
"Something very unfortunate might just happen." Curry said, ending the thought.
Again I nodded. I was still quite uncertain about these two men, but my reporter instincts were well ingrained and began to surface.
If a reporter were to agree not to mention, or even suggest the possibility of any amnesty, would Heyes and Curry be willing to talk to that reporter?"
I watched the two men lock eyes and could literally see an unspoken conversation ensuing.
"What would you like to know, Mr. Harshfield?"
I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. "I think I just bore witness to my most important question," I told them.
"So, the three of us have an agreement?" Heyes asked and I nodded.
"Willing to shake on that?" Kid asked, extending his hand.
I nodded again and extended my hand first to Curry and then to Heyes.
They both stood up and took a step toward the aisle.
"Well, Mr. Harshfield, so long as we are all in agreement, I believe my partner and I will be departing.
I watched them walk down the aisle and out the door. I don't know if they just moved to another car or if they jumped the train. But I do know what Jenny Black and Belle Jordan, were talking about, and I do now know those two do share some sort of unspoken connection.
I know they are in fact interwoven from the same cloth.
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Author's Note: A very sincere thank you to Rachel Kruidenier for her input, suggestions, and proof-reading assistance with several recent stories. It is very much appreciated.