Dime Novel
(Just a couple of conversations between friends, and partners)
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Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry sat at the kitchen table in the cabin owned by their friend and mentor, Lom Trevers. It was late evening when they arrived so that the two outlaws could avoid being seen slipping into the cabin of the Porterville, Wyoming Sheriff. Usually the three men communicated by telegrams that most would consider vague and confusing, with frequent inquiries of mysterious mutual friends. But Heyes and the Kid had just finished a ranch job in Douglas, and Porterville was less than a day's ride, so they had arrived unannounced just to touch base before heading west the next morning. Outside, an evening summer storm had developed with thunder so loud, no one could sleep, and the three men soon found themselves congregated at the kitchen table.
Lom dropped three shot glasses on the table, then walked to the cupboard for a bottle of whiskey. As he did so, he spied a letter on the counter that was addressed to Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry in care of Sheriff Trevers. He picked up the letter along with the whiskey bottle and sat down at the table.
"I'm glad we decided to have a drink or I would have forgotten all about this," Lom said and tossed the wrinkled envelope on the table. "This came about a month ago, but I didn't know where you fellas were."
"Who's it from?" Kid asked as Heyes picked up the letter and examined the return address on the front of the envelope.
"Someone by the name of Richard Potter," Heyes replied.
"Why does that name sound familiar?" Kid asked.
Both Heyes and Lom shrugged as the name was not at all familiar to either of them.
Heyes opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. "It's written on Denver Gazette stationary. It looks like Richard Potter is a reporter."
"That's how I know the name," Kid explained and both Heyes and Lom looked at him curiously.
"He ain't just a reporter. He wrote a book called 'Showdown in Tombstone.' It's one of them dime novels about the feud between the Clantons and the McLaurys. According to that book, there was more than five hundred shots fired inside the OK Corral," Kid explained.
"Well, you can't even call that an exaggeration," Lom said. "I know for a fact that shootout didn't last more than thirty seconds. Would have taken a whole army to get that many shots fired in that amount of time. Them dime novels ain't nothing but exaggerations."
"If you liked that dime novel Kid, you're gonna love Potter's idea," Heyes said as he finished reading the letter.
"What's his idea?"
"He wants to write a dime novel about you and me."
Kid smiled, but Lom spoke before Kid had a chance to comment.
"He could call it 'Explosion in Porterville,' or maybe 'How Not to Rob a Bank,'" Lom suggested.
"He says he'd be willing to give us two cents for every novel sold," Heyes added.
"So you're not gonna earn more than ten cents on the whole project?" Lom asked and Heyes grinned.
"I think we're pretty sure to earn two cents on the copy the Kid buys, but beyond that, I think it's pretty iffy."
Even Kid had to agree the project did not sound very profitable to them. "You realize that's probably our only chance at fame," he grumbled.
"I think you two are already pretty famous Kid, at least in Wyoming," Lom assured him. "Besides, you can't go telling a reporter about all the banks and railroads you held up, at least not until the amnesty comes through."
"Lom's right. Giving him details would just be an admission of guilt," Heyes added. "If that book got published before we even got the amnesty, there ain't a lawyer in the territory that would take us on as clients."
Deflated, Kid just nodded and drank his whiskey.
"But...," Heyes said, stretching the word out teasingly, and Kid raised his eyes from his glass.
"But what?"
"Well, this fella says that for every dime novel sold, two cents would go to us, four cents would go to him, and four cents would go to the publisher."
"Yeah, so?" Kid asked.
"So, if we was to write that book ourselves, we'd get six cents per novel, being as we'd be both the subjects and the authors."
"That's still a lot of books to sell," Lom reminded them. "A hundred copies would only earn you six dollars."
"And Composition was never my best subject," Kid reminded his partner.
"Maybe not, but I was good at it," Heyes replied. "Remember that composition I wrote at the orphanage?"
Kid rolled his eyes. "You mean the one about the declining educational system?"
"It compared the decline in education with the post war socioeconomic decline, Heyes said defensively.
"Uh-uh, and earned you a week's detention," Kid replied.
"I bet you could write it, Heyes. Them novels don't take a lot of talent," Lom said with a grin. "It sounds like something right up your alley."
"I'm gonna do it," Heyes declared. "Kid and me are gonna write that novel."
"I just told you I ain't good at writing. Look at all the telegrams I write and then you take a pencil to em and scratch out half the words."
"I'll do the writing, but you're good with remembering details."
"Heyes, you're forgetting that nobody, including you, can read your writing."
"Well, we'll invest in one of them typewriters," Heyes replied. "That way it will look professional when we send it to a publisher."
"You know how big and heavy them typewriters are? We'll hafta invest in a mule too, just to lug that contraption around, and you can't run from a posse with a typewriter strapped to a mule," Kid told him. "Besides, we ain't got a hundred dollars to throw around."
"He's got some valid points Heyes," Lom added.
"Well," Heyes said as his mind raced. "A good night of poker would pay for a typewriter and a mule, and we could write it right here."
"Oh no you can't! I ain't harboring two outlaws in my house for a month," Lom said adamantly. "It's bad enough I even let you two in here for the night."
"It takes that long to write a book?" Kid asked.
Lom nodded. "And that's a dime novel. A real book takes even longer."
"Hey, maybe we could go back to Devil's Hole for a month," Heyes suggested.
"Oh that's one of your more brilliant ideas," Kid said sarcastically. "Hey Wheat, we're moving back into the leader's cabin for a month. We're sure you won't mind moving back into the bunkhouse for four weeks. Yeah, right. That's gonna happen. Besides, Lobo would likely try to steal the typewriter to sell it."
"Clem would let us stay with her," Heyes declared.
"She would want in on the book deal. She'd likely demand to write her own chapter."
Heyes sighed heavily as every one of his suggestions hit a roadblock with his partner. "I thought you were all enthused about having a book written about us," Heyes grumbled. "And you know as well as I do that you hafta spend money to make money."
Another loud crack of thunder reminded them all that there was no sleep on the horizon. Lom reached for the bottle of whiskey and filled each of the glasses.
"You know, writing a book takes a lot of time and research. There's a lot of preparation involved," Lom told them. "Maybe you'd be wise to look into that and then decide if you want to spend money on a typewriter and then find a secluded place where you could devote all your time to writing this Great American Novel."
"What kind of preparation?" Kid asked.
"Well, deciding what you wanna include and what kind of order you want to put it in."
Lom got up from his chair and got some paper, a pen, and a bottle of ink and brought it to the table. "Start with making lists of things you wanna include."
"Like what?" Kid asked.
"I've done a lot of reading in my spare time, so I think I have some idea about what Lom's talking about." Heyes said. "The first thing is deciding where we should start. Do we wanna start from the day we was born?"
"I don't recall being born so I would have much to offer there," Kid replied. "Besides, a reader wants to read about a couple of outlaws, not about a couple of boys growing up on a farm."
"Alright, then lets start with how we each came to be outlaws," Heyes suggested.
Kid nodded. "So write that down as the contents for chapter one. What's next?"
"We should make a list of all the jobs we pulled when we was leading the Devil's Hole gang," Heyes replied. "We led the gang for seven years. How many robberies did we do in that time?"
Kid thought for a while. "I remember three stagecoach robberies, four bank heists, and three train robberies. The stagecoaches were all payroll robberies. The banks were the Merchants Bank in Denver, the Fort Worth Bank, the First National Bank..."
"Don't forget the Porterville Bank," Lom reminded them.
"We didn't actually rob that one, Lom," Heyes reminded him. "But maybe we should make a list of all the robberies we got blamed for, but didn't do."
"Let's see, there's Kingsburg, Touchstone, New Mexico, Red Gap, Ashford, and Porterville," Kid replied.
Heyes quickly scribbled down all the names that Kid provided. "Now all the train robberies," he suggested.
"The Columbine one, the train going from Cheyenne to Denver, and there had to be a Union Pacific one cause they put up half the reward money," Kid replied.
"Were either of you ever wounded in a robbery?" Lom asked. "Cause that could be an interesting chapter."
"I was once, but I don't think we'd want to include that in the book, Lom. You see, we only got seventy-two dollars and I got shot in the leg, but it was Heyes that did the shooting. I don't think that would put us in a very good light in the book."
"Heyes shot you?" Lom asked.
"He says he was aiming at the posse, but I have my doubts."
"I was aiming at the posse. You just happened to get in the way," Heyes said adamantly.
"Uh-uh. Keep telling yourself that, Heyes. Maybe someday someone will believe you," Kid replied.
"You know Kid, sometimes you can be a little hard to deal with," Heyes retorted.
"Wait a minute, the pair of you," Lom said with a puzzled look on his face. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Kid asked.
"Silence. I think the storm has passed."
"Maybe the one outside, but I ain't too sure about the one in here," Heyes muttered.
"Well, I for one am going to bed," Lom told them.
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The next morning Heyes and Kid packed up their things and started out on their way west. With no particular destination in mind, they rode leisurely, enjoying the warm summer day and bright sunshine that quickly dried the road after the previous evening's rain.
"Did you stay up all night with that book idea, Heyes?" Kid asked, more to initiate some conversation than due to any genuine interest.
"I studied on the idea a lot. But I think it might be best to abandon the whole idea," Heyes replied.
"Why's that?"
"Well, a couple of reasons. First, it ain't something we should do before we get the amnesty. Even if we wrote the thing but never had it published while we was still wanted, it would be like that picture Clem has of us. Having all our accomplishments written down on paper could just end up getting us in a peck of trouble."
Kid nodded, seeing the logic in Heyes' reasoning. "What's you other reason?" he asked.
"Well, I got to thinking about some of the other gangs out there..."
"And?"
"And I started comparing some of their jobs to some of our jobs."
"What's your point, Heyes?"
"Well, how many other gangs do you know that one of the leaders shot the other leader?"
Kid pinched his lips together to keep from smiling. "That's true," he finally said.
"And how many other gangs left a safe with fifty thousand dollars in it in the bottom of a pond?"
"Or ever shoved a safe off a mountain," Kid said with his best poker face and a forced calmness in his voice.
"Yeah, or dynamited a safe with so much TNT it splintered the bank and exploded the saloon across the street," Heyes added and smiled when he began to see a pattern developing.
"You're raising some valid questions here," Kid told him.
"Now I know other gangs have done some reckless things, like Butch and Sundance jumping off that cliff into a whitewater river..."
"Rumor Heyes. We don't know that to be a fact."
"That's my point. So long as we don't actually admit to doing them things, they're all just rumors."
"Might be best at that to forego the book," Kid concluded.
Heyes nodded, pleased that Kid was agreeable to abandoning the whole idea. "And it would be hard to lug a typewriter around with us."
"It would be cumbersome," Kid agreed.
"And a mule would just be another mouth to feed."
"You've convinced me, Heyes. We don't hafta keep going on about it."
Heyes nodded and the two rode in silence for another couple of miles, but Kid could tell that Heyes was still dwelling on the idea, or at least something related to the idea.
"You got something more to say?" Kid finally asked when the silence began to gnaw at him.
"Kid, you ever think maybe we weren't cut out to be outlaws?"
"Nope."
Kid's quick response surprised his partner. "No?" he asked.
"What you said is true, Heyes. Every gang has got their mishap stories to tell. That don't mean they weren't good at what they did. And it don't mean their leaders weren't good at what they did. Just means every gang has had its off days, that's all."
"You really think so?" Heyes asked with a sense of relief that Kid did not doubt his partner's leadership skills.
"Yeah, I really think so. The Devil's Hole gang has got a lot to be proud of. We never stole a red cent from any hard working common folk. We never shot anyone, well at least no one outside the gang. You was an ace safe cracker, Heyes. There ain't no one that could best you in that category, nor planning, neither."
Heyes could literally feel his ego puffing up once again and he smiled reflectively. "And ain't nobody could ever outdraw you, Kid."
"You know, instead of just shucking the whole idea of that book, maybe we should just put the idea on a back burner for a while. Then, once we get the amnesty, we'll rethink the idea."
"You know..." Heyes began and Kid knew another plan was forming. "Maybe after we get the amnesty, we could write a fiction story about two outlaws that headed up the most ingenious gang that ever roamed the west."
Kid laughed. "Now that Heyes, is one of your more brilliant ideas!"
"And we could call ourselves by different names..."
"Aliases again?"
"Pen names, Kid. They're called pen names."
"Like that writer fella you admire?" Kid asked.
"Mark Twain," Heyes said, his voice thick with admiration.
"I still wonder what it is he's wanted for," Kid replied.