"Call it four dollars even, friend."

Angling two newly purchased spades over his left shoulder Hannibal Heyes thanked the man behind the counter of the Winfield General Store for the small discount, and clutching a paper sack containing a bag of flour, some salt pork wrapped in waxed paper and several strips of buffalo jerky, he strode out onto the sun-drenched boardwalk. Leaning his back against one of the posts he pushed his hat to the back of his head and turned his face to the sun enjoying the early morning warmth on his skin. So absorbed was he musing about how the diamonds they were about to find would sparkle in the sunlight that he didn't detect the approaching footsteps. The first thing he heard was a raspy voice at his shoulder.

"Didn't think we'd see you back here ag'in, Mister Smith."

Sheriff Benton folded his arms and scrutinized the dark-haired man with a pair of wily grey eyes.

Startled out of his reverie the former outlaw leader realigned his hat so that it now tilted forward, hiding as much of his face as possible. "Just passing through, Sheriff."

"Passin' through, huh? Where you headed this time?"

"Well, this may sound a little strange, but searching for those red-headed Indians got me thinking my partner and I should go do some more prospecting back in Devil's Hole country."

Sheriff Benton's eyes narrowed even further. "You mean to tell me you're fixin' to go back in there after two of your party got shot by them outlaws?"

Upon their return to Winfield, Heyes had been relieved when Finney had volunteered to inform the sheriff of the deaths, but what he didn't know was that the policeman had failed to report that Ashdown had killed Parker and that he, in turn, had shot Ashdown.

He pressed his lips together tightly at the inference that the Devil's Hole Gang would randomly murder someone; the smile he had found so easily in the store a few minutes ago was proving elusive now.

"We felt safe enough when we ventured in there before."

The lawman sighed. "Alright, alright, if you're set on goin' there ag'in then there's not much I can do to stop ya, but like I said the last time, don't go thinkin' me or my deputy will ride in there to get ya outta any trouble."

"We won't, sir."

Out of the corner of his eye Heyes recognized the Kid's measured stride as he made his way down the street leading their horses, and before the lawman could quiz him further, he declared, "Here comes my partner. So long, Sheriff."

Heyes stuffed the bag of supplies into one of his saddlebags and tied the two spades securely to his bedroll.

"Got us each a spade," he announced.

"Wonderful." His blond partner eyed him sourly. He really hoped there wouldn't be a lot of digging involved.

"You won't be giving me that look when you're counting your share of the reward money," Heyes reminded him.

As they trotted past the general store Curry took a moment to look closely at the man he had seen talking to Heyes. The briefest flash of a silver star as it caught the sunlight made his back go rigid, and in response to this sudden tension his horse took a few nervous side steps. Quickly gaining control of both the horse and himself Curry enquired, "What did the sheriff want?"

"He was asking what I was doing here."

"That's usually a sign for us to get outta town. What did you tell him?"

"I told him you and I were going back to Devil's Hole to dig for buried treasure."

"What!"

Amused by the aghast expression on the Kid's face, Heyes grinned. "Well, those might not have been my exact words..."

The ride through the lush hills and valleys north of Winfield took about a day and a half, but they still arrived at the area known as Devil's Hole a lot sooner than Heyes had done previously. On those occasions he had been accompanied by strangers and so had chosen a longer and even more scenic trail, making sure to avoid using any secret shortcuts, the location of which were much too precious to reveal, especially when it could mean the difference between the gang being caught by a pursuing posse or getting away scot-free.

"Feels kinda strange, don't it, Kid?" he asked as they wound their way through the contrasting dull, rocky terrain . "Being back here again, I mean."

"I guess," replied a somewhat pensive-looking gunman.

For the past couple of hours Heyes had noted the absence of the Kid's customary musing about what life could be like when the amnesty came through; he wasn't singing either. While endless off-key renditions of I'm a Lonesome Cowboy were something he could always do without, he didn't mind speculating about what life might be like when they were no longer wanted men.

"You alright? You've been pretty quiet."

"I guess I've been rememberin' all the times we rode in and outta here," replied Curry. "Do you miss it?"

"The Hole? Kid, I've been in and outta here so many times lately..."

"Not just the Hole, I mean any of it. All of it. The jobs. The gang. The money."

Heyes considered this briefly, then answered honestly, "The money, for sure. Who wouldn't? Why do you want to know?"

Curry shrugged. "No reason."

"You wouldn't ask me something like that for no reason. What's going on, Kid?" asked Heyes, a look of concern growing in his eyes. "Are you thinking you want to go back to outlawing?"

"No. I was... Oh, I dunno, Heyes. Maybe it's because things don't seem a whole lot different now to when we was robbin' banks. We're still on the run β€” still lookin' over our shoulders all the time, 'cept now we're doin' it without the money."

"I know, Kid. I feel that way too, sometimes." Heyes reached over and gave Curry's arm an encouraging punch. "Just keep thinking how good it's gonna feel pulling those diamonds outta the ground tomorrow."

"If they're there."

"They're there, Kid. Look, it's been a long day." Brown eyes quickly scoped out their surroundings, then a gloved hand pointed. "I say we set up camp in that little hollow in the cliffs. With any luck a fire will stay alight there even if the wind blows down the canyon all night. We can follow the river round to Carbon Creek first thing in the morning."

"Who's turn is it to cook, you or me?"

Heyes shrugged. His thoughts had been on other things lately so he had lost track of who did what the last time they slept outdoors.

In the end they flipped a coin.

Much to the Kid's frustration he lost which meant not only would he have to do the cooking, he would also have to suffer drinking Heyes' coffee. So, while he cut some salt pork and watched it sizzle in a skillet over the campfire, Heyes took their coffee pot and sauntered down to the riverbank. As he crouched down to dip the pot in the water he realized he was only a stone's throw from the spot he had brought Julia to when she wanted to bathe her feet in the cool river water. Smiling to himself, he recalled the smooth, pale skin of her shapely ankles as she divested herself of her stockings before stepping into the water. Despite his warning to tread carefully she missed her footing and almost went under. Soaked through and a little shocked, she had climbed out again only to stumble into his arms, her wet clothes clinging to her body in a most tantalizing fashion.

Hannibal Heyes abruptly pulled his thoughts back to the present. Julia was gone. She was in Boston, far away on the other side of the country, and that was that.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Despite being back at Devil's Hole and the mixture of good and bad memories that came with it, dawn the next day found both Heyes and Curry surprisingly well-rested. After a hasty breakfast of the remains of last night's coffee together with some of the recently acquired buffalo jerky, they saddled up and followed the river upstream, not stopping until they were past the point where Carbon Creek cascaded down the side of the bluffs and joined the main water course.

"This is the spot," announced Heyes. Jumping lightly from his saddle he began to untie the two spades from behind his saddle.

Kid Curry was not quite so keen to dismount. He stayed where he was and surveyed the area from his elevated position. "Lotsa rocks," he observed, unhappily.

For a moment Heyes ceased his tussle with a particularly tight knot to take a closer look around. "Yeah, Kyle said Ashdown was digging by rocks."

"Wouldha helped some if he'd said which rocks."

"We'll have to search for a spot that looks like it's been disturbed, that's all."

"Uh-huh." Curry's response did not suggest much faith in this plan.

"It won't take long," Heyes assured him.

"River's runnin' fast. There's probably been a lotta rain. Ground will have evened out."

Heyes glared up at his unhelpful friend. "You gonna sit up there all morning stating the obvious, or are you gonna get out of that saddle and do something useful?"

With a sceptical shake of his head Curry swung his right leg over the saddle horn and slid to the ground. "Gimme a spade," he sighed.

A little over an hour and three barren excavations later two disheartened men sat down heavily on one of the numerous boulders. The Kid uncorked his canteen and drank thirstily from it while Heyes pulled his bandana from his neck to wipe his brow, squinting up at the cliffs towering above them as he did so.

"Kid, if Kyle's telling the truth and Lobo was up there, where do you suppose he was standing?"

Curry followed his gaze. "The only trail that comes near the edge right about here is the one from Deadline Point to Lookout Rock. So, I'm guessin'... somewhere between there..." He pointed. "...and there."

"That's what I figured. Now, those pines would have blocked his view in that direction," Heyes indicated to his left. "So, the only rocks we need to dig around are those, over there." His finger switched to the right.

"And you couldn't have used that nimble brain of yours to work that out before we got started?"

Heyes ignored the jibe. "While we're on the subject of lookouts... I haven't seen anyone checking us out, have you?"

"Nope. Wheat's probably taken every man he's got to Lazy Bend to pull off that bank job. He's all force and no finesse, remember?"

Heyes snorted derisively. "I'd rather forget. Let's get digging."

By late morning the sun had finally cleared the mountains and shone down from a clear blue sky into the canyon. Even though the river flowed past the area where they were digging the air was still hot and there was little breeze. Heyes was about to suggest that they take another break when his spade finally unearthed something wrapped in an old piece of rawhide, not unlike the one Ashdown's map had been drawn on.

"Ah ha!" he announced with delight as he scooped it up and brushed away the dirt.

Kid Curry tossed his spade to one side and gave the find his full attention. "I can't believe you actually found something," he said.

A look of disappointment began to cloud Heyes' eyes. "You really are losing faith in me, aren't you?"

Curry laughed. "Nope. I'm joshin' with you, Heyes, like I always do." He slung one arm across his friend's shoulders and urged, "You gonna open it or not?"

His excitement returning, Heyes began to unwrap the rawhide to reveal a small black velvet pouch. He pulled open the drawstring, dipped his hand inside and withdrew a sparkling stone.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind them came the sharp snap of a twig.

Kid Curry spun round, his revolver already in his hand and aimed at a man standing not more than thirty yards away. Wisely, the man raised both his hands in the air, neither of which held a gun.

"Good way to get yourself shot, creeping up on a fella like that," Heyes called. As a precaution he also drew his Schofield.

"That'd be what's known as an occupational hazard, Mister Smith. Or should I say, Mister Heyes?"

More bravely than he actually felt facing a gunman with the Kid's reputation, Police Sergeant Kevin Finney smiled and stepped a little closer. "That was very impressive, Mister Curry. Seems you really are as fast as people say."

"He's faster," Heyes informed him. "And he can pull that trigger before you can blink too, 'specially if you're stupid enough to try and draw on him. You're not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you, Sergeant?"

Finney was aware of the risk he was taking approaching from behind, but had been willing to wager that he would be safe provided his revolver remained firmly in its holster.

"Not at all. The last thing I would want to do is shoot either of you."

Heyes gave a humourless smile. "Funny. You said you didn't want to shoot Ashdown, but you did it all the same."

"Like I told you at the time, Mister Heyes, he was trying to get away. I had to do something."

"Didn't need to kill him."

"That was... unfortunate. Look, my gun's right here." Without thinking Finney dropped his hand to ease back his jacket, but raised it again the second he heard an ominous click from Curry's Colt.

Stepping forward to pluck the policeman's gun from its holster, the gunman growled, "Not anymore."

"What brings you back to Devil's Hole?" Heyes asked.

"I'm searching for any clues Stephen Ashdown may have left behind."

"Clues." Curry repeated, dourly.

Heyes shook his head. "I don't believe you. You already know there's a bunch of well-armed outlaws here, but you expect us to believe that you rode in, all alone, to look for clues?"

"That is correct," replied the policeman. "I tried retracing Ashdown's steps in San Francisco just like I told you I was going to do, but my enquiries got me nowhere. In the end, I assumed I'd missed something and decided to come back here."

"So you have been following us. We wondered about that."

After Heyes' constant dismissal of his belief that Finney was following them, Curry found himself bridling a little at his partner's use of the word 'we'. He flashed Heyes an icy glare.

"I'm not following you," protested Finney.

"It sure looks that way," said Heyes.

"I wasn't following you in San Francisco, and I didn't follow you here. I've been searching around this canyon for the past three days. How could I be following you?"

"You here alone?" asked Curry, taking his eyes away from the police sergeant long enough to check for signs of a posse.

"That's right."

His eyes narrowing, Heyes tried to weigh up whether or not Finney was telling the truth. At this particular spot the river narrowed slightly, resulting in a turbulent, noisy rush of water over and around a number of boulders identical to the ones they had been excavating, and was no doubt the reason neither he nor the Kid had heard him approach. Striving to hear anything which could be attributed to horses or men, Heyes also took in their surroundings with the practiced eye of someone used to being pursued. He needed to be sure the policeman had not brought company.

After a long minute he holstered his gun as he turned to his partner. "If he was here to take us in he wouldn't be here alone. Might as well put your gun away, Kid."

Grudgingly Curry rolled his Colt back into its holster. He then proceeded to empty the policeman's revolver of its bullets. "In case you change your mind about doin' somethin' stupid."

Finney lowered his hands and took the empty gun. "It had crossed my mind that the diamonds could be here," he said. "But tell me, how was it that you came to that conclusion, Mister Heyes?"

Not wishing to reveal that he had Ashdown's key, or that it was actually Kyle who had given him the idea, Heyes shrugged. "All it takes is a little genius."

"I see. Well, did this 'little genius' happen to work out how he was going to turn those stones over to the appropriate authorities?" asked Finney, his tone surprisingly flippant. When an answer was not immediately forthcoming he held out his hand. "It might be simpler if I returned them."

Heyes grinned at the man's gall, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Surely you don't think we're simply gonna hand them over so you can claim the reward for yourself?"

"And who says there's a reward?"

"I say." Heyes dangled the velvet pouch from his fingertips. "Without a decent reward nobody would hand these diamonds in, no matter how honest they think they are. How much do you figure is on offer, Sergeant? Ten percent? Twenty?"

"Surely you don't think T.F. Ayres will pay a reward to an outlaw, especially one as notorious as yourself?"

With an impatient huff Heyes placed his hands on his hips. "Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry aren't gonna hand over diamonds..."

"I thought as much," interrupted Finney with a self-satisfied smile.

"...but Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones are. We're going straight."

"Haven't done any thievin' in months," added Curry.

"We're still wanted," Heyes chose his words carefully so as not to divulge the Governor's deal. "But the longer we stay out of trouble, the greater the chance those warrants will be withdrawn. And that's the truth of it."

"That's admirable, gentlemen, very admirable. But impersonating someone for financial gain is also a criminal offence. You see, returning something this valuable may not be as straightforward as you think. There could be legal documents to sign stating your names, where you live, that sort of thing. You may think it's simply a case of returning these diamonds to their rightful owner, but as a police officer I can assure you, it has to be done in line with the law. Now, I can help you with that."

Beginning to feel defeated at every turn, Heyes looked at his blond friend with a woeful look in his eyes. There were times when he hated every second of this honesty business.

"What are you proposing?" asked Curry.

"As you know, the diamonds were stolen from London, but I plan to take them to T.F. Ayres in New York," explained Finney. "Then it will be their responsibility to transport them securely back to England. While I'm in New York I will claim any reward they may be offering and wire you your share."

Heyes frowned. "We need to talk this over between the two of us. Sit down on that rock, and don't move," he ordered before steering his partner just out of earshot.

"Y' know, Kid, you've been right about something all along," Heyes' voice was barely above a whisper.

"I have? About what?"

"Me losing my touch. Finney's right. If we sign some kinda legal papers swearing our names are Smith and Jones and word gets back to the Governor... I can't believe that thought didn't occur to me."

"If it had, then you'd have come up with a way round it." Kid Curry tried his best to lift his partner's dwindling spirits, but Heyes just smiled despondently. "We could always go along with Finney to make sure he turns them in," he suggested.

"All the way to New York?"

"Could be your chance to cross the Mississippi River, Heyes."

"We can't go anywhere with him, Kid. He knows our real names as well as our aliases, and he can describe us β€” accurately. He's a serving police officer, not a half-baked detective like Briscoe, so there's always a chance he'll come to his law-abiding senses and turn us in." Heyes shrugged. "Short of putting a bullet in him ..."

"I am not shootin' anyone," insisted Curry, uncertain whether or not his partner was being serious. "We may be lookin' at twenty years for armed robbery, but I'd rather do the time than face a noose."

Heyes studied the pouch in his hand for a moment. "Then there's only one thing for it."

"This had better be an improvement on your last idea!"

"We keep them. If we high-tail it right this minute Finney would never catch us β€” we know this country too well." Heyes raised a speculative eyebrow. "Think about it. Two million dollars."

"Where would we go?"

"Mexico? Canada, even."

Curry pulled off his hat and ruffled his sweat-flattened curls. "I dunno, Heyes. That'd be throwing our amnesty away for sure. Do we really want to do that after all we've been through these past few months?"

"That's what I thought you'd say."

With a protracted sigh the former outlaw leader turned back to Finney and thrust the pouch toward him at arm's length. "Here. Take it," he said, with a heavy heart. "We'll just have to trust you."

"Now that's a fine thing to say when you're the outlaws here!"

"Former outlaws."

"You're doing the right thing, gentlemen." Finney stashed the pouch securely in his jacket pocket. "The very minute we get back to Winfield I'll telegraph T.F. Ayres andβ€”"

"We're not going back to town with you," Heyes said, sharply, his manner and tone suddenly one of the former outlaw leader. "I know how things work in these small towns and it won't take long for Sheriff Benton to learn about your little telegraph. He already looks at me funny and if he works out who we really are he will also know the fliers on us say dead or alive. And when it comes to collecting twenty thousand dollars some folks ain't too fussy which way they choose. Tell you what we will do for you though, Sergeant, we'll make sure you get out of here. Devil's Hole can look very different on the way out to how it does on the way in. I was guiding you last time, so it seemed easy."

"We've known folk stumble in here by mistake and wander about for days trying to find a way out," added Curry.

"Once we're clear of the canyon and over the ridge you can head for town."

"And what about you two?" enquired the sergeant.

The Kid and me, we..." Heyes smiled, cheekily, "...we'll head someplace else."

Finney nodded. "Alright, if that's the way you want to do it. But I don't think the United States Mail Service delivers to Devil's Hole. Where shall I send your share of the reward? If there is any to share."

Heyes and Curry exchanged a frown. There was only one place they could be contacted, but bringing up a respected lawman's name in connection with two notorious outlaws was always a risk, especially one who was doing their talking with the Governor.

"You could wire the money to a friend of ours," Heyes informed him. "Name's Lom Trevors. He's the sheriff over in Porterville. He'll know how to get in touch with us."

Finney thought it best to write this down so he wouldn't forget the details so he reached inside his jacket to retrieve his notebook. He had been surprised to hear that these men were friends with a sheriff, but not quite as surprised as he was to suddenly find himself staring down the barrel of a Colt .45.

"That better not be a gun you're reachin' for."

Even after all the years they'd been together, Heyes still couldn't help but smile with a sense of pride at the speed of his partner's reaction to any potential threat, and he took a great deal of satisfaction in watching Finney freeze and swallow hard.