Kid Curry leaned heavily on his saddle horn and studied the words scratched on the boulder at the fork in the road.
"Which way, Heyes?" he asked. "If we go left we'll pass Winfield. You wanna head on over, see if we can find out anything more about Ashdown? "
"No point." Heyes shook his head, dispiritedly. "Trail's cold."
"The other road it is then." Curry announced. Then he grinned, cheekily. "Lazy Bend. Now that sounds like my kinda town!"
Heyes didn't comment further. He merely snorted, turned his horse's head in the direction of Lazy Bend and nudged her forward.
The two rode side-by-side with only the clip-clop of iron shod hooves filling the silence. Rather than risk another one-sided conversation when he was lucky if he received single word replies from his partner, Curry found himself reflecting on the events of the past few weeks, including their long journey on horseback from San Francisco.
Following the fruitless visit to the vault Heyes had behaved exactly as he had on the rare occasion a robbery hadn't gone to plan. He spent the remainder of the day laying on his bed brooding. He didn't eat lunch, nor hardly any supper, but he did spend a considerable amount of the evening in the bar, downing one glass of hard liquor after another before retiring late to their room. Despite the alcohol, he didn't fall sleep. Instead he persisted in testing the patience of his initially supportive, but increasingly unsympathetic partner, by pacing about their room. The brooding silence now abandoned, he repeatedly interrupted Curry's attempts to sleep with 'ideas' — some logical, some downright outrageous — about the possible whereabouts of the diamonds. It got to the point when the gunman was seconds away from threatening him with a bullet and meaning it, when Heyes' mind and body finally gave out and he fell asleep slumped over the writing desk.
As if inflicting a disturbed night on his partner wasn't bad enough, the following morning, before dawn even broke, he was awake again. Ignoring a pounding headache, he began vigorously thrusting their belongings into saddlebags and insisting they check out of the hotel, return their rented suits to Cohen and Son, and "get the hell out of this godforsaken city".
Although not thrilled by the early wake-up call, Kid Curry had not been opposed to this idea, hoping that once they had crossed the Sierra Nevada on their way back to the West Heyes' mood would improve, but it was not to be; not straight away, anyhow. For the best part of another week he continued to dwell on things, often sitting long into the night staring solemnly into the campfire.
Eventually Heyes did start eating more; he also went back to playing poker. The former was a mixed blessing as far as the Kid was concerned. While he didn't like to see Heyes absently pushing food around his plate and only swallowing the occasional mouthful, he couldn't help but appreciate the second meal he often acquired as a result. When it came to poker, the blessings were twofold. Firstly, playing cards made his friend happy. Secondly, they regularly relied on his considerable expertise at the game to make money, especially when work was hard to come by, or simply the wrong kind. Spending several nights in that expensive hotel had seriously depleted their funds, so it was good to see him winning again.
It was late afternoon by the time the small town of Lazy Bend came into view — a long row of mismatched buildings standing out from the range like a set of oddly shaped teeth. Situated on the opposite side of the mountain range to the Devil's Hole hideout, it housed a small mining community. The railroad had never made it into this part of the mountains, meaning what little ore was dug out of the ground these days could still only be shipped out by mule train, exactly as it had in the town's heyday. The muleskinners here still outnumbered the miners by two to one, but because they drew their pay upon delivery, not collection, the mining company at Lazy Bend did not hold a large payroll in the bank; the very reason why Hannibal Heyes had never considered it worth coming all the way across the mountains to rob.
"What do you wanna do first, Heyes? Get a room, or get a drink?"
Momentarily, Heyes left off checking out everyone who crossed their path from under the low angled brim of his dusty black hat to answer earnestly, "A drink. I need to cut this dust."
Curry grinned. Things were definitely looking up; Heyes had finally answered a question with more than a couple of words, and not only that, they were the right words.
The two road sore and thirsty men had only just pushed their way through the doors of the nearest saloon when there was a shout of "Ooowheee! Look who it ain't!"
Recognizing the voice Heyes and Curry exchanged a crestfallen look. With a heavy sigh Heyes left the Kid to order the beers, and shoving chairs haphazardly out of his way, strode quickly to the far side of the room.
He pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh!"
"Sure, Heyes!" Kyle Murtry's grin revealed his usual mouthful of tobacco-stained teeth.
Dark eyes glared at the scruffy outlaw. "Shhhhh!" Heyes hissed again. "Keep it down, Kyle, or we'll all end up in jail. We're not Heyes and Curry, our names are Smith and Jones."
Kyle didn't appear to be listening; instead his attention was focused on the three frothing mugs of beer in the hands of a man in a brown hat. "Nice ta see ya, Kid!" he chirped.
Kid Curry put the mugs down, leaned both hands on the pine tabletop and aimed a cold, hard stare straight at the small, sandy-haired man. "So help me, Kyle, if you don't shut up I'm gonna do it for ya. Permanent-like."
Regardless of the danger Kyle was putting them in Heyes still found himself having to suppress a smile; his partner's warning took him right back to their glory days when he would often resort to threats of violence in order to keep the more unruly members of the Devil's Hole Gang in line. While Heyes knew it would have taken a great deal of provocation for the Kid to do any of them actual bodily harm, Kyle on the other hand, didn't.
"Oh yeah, right. Sorry." Kyle looked suitably shamefaced.
"What are you doing here?" enquired Heyes, furtively looking around the room to check whether anybody was reacting to their presence. A few people were enjoying an early evening drink, but thankfully nobody appeared interested in them, nor were there any familiar faces, including any other members of the gang.
Kyle surreptitiously looked right and left before leaning forward in his seat. "Wheat sent me. I'm here on a job," he stated, proudly.
Heyes almost spat out a mouthful of beer. "You? By yourself?"
"Yeah, I gotta pipe the bank fer him. Y' know, check everythin' out ter see if we can rob it."
"I haven't forgotten what 'piping a bank' means, Kyle," said Heyes, testily. Then he remembered where they were. "Hold on. Are you talking about the bank here in Lazy Bend?"
"Could be."
"Well, you can ignore those bars at the windows, the locks on the doors and the Herring and Farrell safe inside. They're not safeguarding anything worth taking. Why do you think me and the Kid never bothered with it?"
Kyle Murtry looked a little bewildered at the amount of information coming his way. "I-I dunno, Heyes. Why?"
"Because, it's not worth the effort! That's why!"
Now it was Curry's turn to smother a smile. "How come Wheat isn't here taking a look for himself?" he enquired, wiping away the moustache of beer froth from his top lip with the back of his hand.
"Wheat says now he's leader he can del... uh del..." Kyle screwed up his face trying to recall the exact word Wheat had used. "Deli-somethin'."
"Delegate," prompted Curry, helpfully.
"Yeah, that's it. Deli-gate. Means he don't gotta do it." Kyle grinned. Then, as he looked from one former gang leader to the other, an idea came to him and his face fell. "You two ain't pipin' the bank fer y'selves are ya?"
"Didn't you hear what I said, Kyle? Anyway, we're going straight, remember? That means no piping of any banks."
"So whatcha doin' here? I'd o' thought yer'd be livin' high on the hog somewheres, Heyes, what with all the easy money you was earnin' bein' a guide an' all." Kyle chewed his wad of chaw noisily before tucking it firmly into the opposite cheek and spitting a gob of juice onto the floor beside him. "Oh, I get it. Yer layin' low, huh? Cayn't say I blames ya after what happened back there at the Hole. Guess ya wasn't expectin' ter hafta shoot one o' them fellas, even if they was payin' thirty dollars a day."
His brown eyes darkening, Heyes glowered across the table. "Let's get one thing straight, Kyle, I didn't shoot anyone. Another member of the party did the shooting. And anyhow, one of the men who died was the person who was paying me. I wouldn't shoot a man who owed me money, now would I?"
Kyle shrugged his shoulders. "Could be ya fancied robbin' him o' some o' that red-haired Injun treasure he found."
Heyes shook his head and sighed. Kyle really didn't understand the concept of going straight, but puzzled at what exactly he was referring to, he asked, "What Indian treasure?"
"The kind folks go diggin' fer."
Curry raised a surprised eyebrow; he didn't recall Heyes mentioning any digging. "Ain't diggin' a little hard on the back for you, Joshua?"
"I only poked around in the old caves looking for bones and beads. Didn't do any digging." Heyes' brow furrowed. "Kyle, exactly who did you see digging?"
"Oh, I didn't see nobody. It was Lobo. He was stood up on the bluff keepin' an eye on ya, like we said we'd do. He didn't have no field glasses so he couldn't see real good, but he said some fella in a tan coat was diggin' 'round all them rocks. Near where the river bends, he said it was, down by Carbon Creek."
Without warning Hannibal Heyes thumped his half full beer mug down on the table so hard that a substantial amount of the brew slopped onto the already stained pine. "That's it!"
Curry stared at him. "What?"
"C'mon Thaddeus, we gotta go." Heyes stood up so abruptly his chair toppled over.
Disappointed at the thought of leaving the bar so soon Curry moaned, "But I thought we'd have at least one more beer."
Heyes turned toward the door, then as an afterthought, turned back again. "Nice seeing you, Kyle."
"Yeah, you too and uh, thanks fer the beer." Kyle Murtry's expression was even more nonplussed than usual as he watched his former bosses exit through the batwing doors.
Curry jogged a few steps to make up the ground that Heyes' long, purposeful strides had covered.
"Hey! Where you goin'?"
"We gotta get a room." Heyes answered over his shoulder. He didn't slow his pace.
"You said you wanted a drink first."
"I did, but things have changed."
"What things?"
"We'll stay the night, but we have to be outta here tomorrow."
"We do?"
"Yep. At first light."
"What the devil for?" Curry had been looking forward to a bed with a soft mattress, not to mention the luxury of sleeping late into the morning. He grabbed his dark-haired friend's arm, forcing him to stop in the middle of the street.
"We're going to Winfield, of course," answered Heyes.
"A couple of hours ago you said the trail was cold!"
"It was, but it's warming up again."
"You're gonna have to give me a little more than that, Heyes." Curry could feel himself beginning to grind his teeth in frustration.
"I know where they are," Heyes gloated.
"Where what are?"
"Ashdown's diamonds."
Curry leaned on one hip and folded his arms tightly across his chest, mostly to keep his hand away from his gun.
"I recall you sayin' that once or twice before, Heyes — and ya didn't."
"But this time, I really do," Heyes told him earnestly.
"So, what's changed?"
"Weren't you listening? Kyle just told us."
Curry gave a heartfelt sigh. "I'm a mite tired, Heyes. Could be I nodded off back there for a minute. You're gonna hafta tell me what Kyle said."
Feeling a little frustrated himself now Heyes found himself speaking slowly, as if to a simpleton.
"Kyle. Said. Ashdown. Was. Digging."
Trying to ignore his friend's condescending tone the gunman's eyes narrowed at his own recollection of the conversation. "Uh-uh. Kyle said some fella in a tan coat was diggin'. Couldha been anybody."
"Ashdown was wearing a tan coat. It had to be him."
"Okay, even if it was him, I don't understand why you're gettin' so all-fired excited, Heyes. So what if Ashdown was diggin'? Indian beads and a bit of old rawhide ain't worth a sou."
"But I don't think Ashdown was digging something up, Kid." A wide grin of satisfaction spread across Hannibal Heyes' face. "I think he was burying something."
