That Side of the Law
Jed Curry rode slowly down the street of Buffalo, Wyoming with only ninety-five cents in his pocket, an obvious need of a bath and a shave, and a long standing chip on his shoulder. With eyes squinting in the sunlight, Curry guided his horse to the hitching post outside the Big Horn Saloon, and climbed out of the saddle. Tired, hungry, and thirsty, he walked up and rested his left hand on the batwing door, just long enough for his eyes to sweep the interior of the saloon. Satisfied with what he saw, Curry pushed the door open and walked up to the bar.
"Beer," he said in a low voice meant solely for the bartender to hear.
Sam Wakefield, the bartender, was a large burly, middle aged man who owned the saloon for twenty or more years, and had seen his share of trouble. He eyed this stranger carefully, noting Curry's dirty blond hair, nearly threadbare clothes, tied down gun, and cold blue eyes that met his gaze without any hint of intimidation.
"Ten cents up front," Wakefield told him.
The bartender was surprised to see the blue eyes soften a bit as Curry pulled off a leather glove, then shoved his bare hand deep into his pocket and pulled out a dime that he tossed down on the counter.
"What do you got in the way of food?" Curry asked.
"Yesterday's beef stew. Fifteen cents a bowl."
"Think I'll pass," Curry replied, not wanting to deplete his funds by twenty-five cents, despite the fact he had not eaten in two days.
"Haven't seen you around these parts before," Wakefield said as he set the glass of beer on the bar.
Curry took a drink of his beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Likely not," he replied.
"Just passing through?" Wakefield asked, not willing to learn nothing of this stranger.
"You the welcoming committee?"
Wakefield shrugged. "Just trying to be friendly," he said and walked away.
Curry immediately regretted his response. At the ripe old age of twenty-three, Jed Curry had been on his own for the past two years and had gained a widespread and unwelcome reputation as a fast draw. The name alone was recognized by most and, more men than Curry would like wanted to try their hand out-shooting him. At the age of twenty-three, Curry knew someday someone would do just that and he held serious doubts that he would live beyond the age of thirty.
"Sorry,"Curry replied quickly, knowing this man was not one of those foolish challengers. "Yeah, just passing through."
The bartender stopped with his back to Curry and smiled slightly before returning to engage the stranger in more conversation.
"And likely no particular destination in mind, either," the bartender noted.
Curry shook his head. "You rent rooms?"
"Fifty cents a night."
Curry again shook his head. A room would deplete his funds too severely. He picked up his beer and walked over to a table, selecting the chair that would put his back to the wall, and give him a clear view of the people inside the saloon.
From across the room, Curry saw the nudge of recognition one man gave to another. It was the same in nearly every town he ventured into. Someone would first notice the tied down gun belt, then the way he wore the holster low on the thigh, and finally, their eyes reach his face to see the callous, dispassionate blue eyes, and they'd know this is the man with the reputation. Most were simply impressed, but someone, always someone, would see him as a challenge, the man to beat. Some even saw him as the man to kill.
Curry heard the scraping of the chair, followed by the approaching footsteps, then finally the stench of beer and whiskey.
"Are you him?" the man hovering over Curry's table asked.
"Depends who you mean by him," Curry replied.
"That fast draw that folks say no one can beat."
"I'm Jed Curry," he said flatly, his eyes still seemingly focused on his beer.
"Curry. Yeah, that's the name. You as fast as people say?
"I wouldn't know, don't listen to no gossip."
"What would you say if I was to call you out?"
Curry slowly raised his eyes and locked his gaze on the man. "I'd say you'd be making a mistake."
The look in Curry's eyes was enough to convince the man that a mistake was suddenly the least of his worries. Curry held the man's gaze, his expression neither threatening nor friendly. "Reckon this conversation is over then," he told the man.
"Yeah, Yeah, I reckon it is," the man replied and took the opportunity to retreat back to his table.
Curry took the last gulp of his beer and stood to leave. Every saloon in every town was the same, and after two long years, Curry was life weary. He walked out of the saloon, mounted his horse, and headed down the road, disappointed that his stomach would see yet another day without food.
The bartender walked to the batwing doors and rested his arms on the rounded top of the doors. He stood there, watching Curry ride down the street and out of town. He was a good judge of character, but the man he watched riding out of town perplexed him. It was obvious that man was troubled, maybe angry, and definitely a lost soul headed toward an untimely destiny.
Curry followed the westbound road for a few miles as was his pattern, then left the road and headed toward the mountains where he could find solitude and shelter for the night. As he approached some fallen rocks near the base of the mountains, Curry smiled and brought his chestnut to a halt. There in the underbrush, he spied a plump brown rabbit and he quietly pulled his gun from its holster.
At a dollar for a box of fifty rounds, most men in Curry's financial position would hesitate to expend a valuable round, but Curry was not only a fast draw, but a very accurate aim as well, and with a single shot, a hot meal now awaited him. He dismounted and walked over to pick up the now dead rabbit, holding it by its hind legs so the blood would drip on the ground rather than on him or his horse. Climbing back onto his saddle, he gave the reins a tug and rode along the base of the mountains until he found a protected area to make camp.
A warm campfire emitting a steady stream of gray smoke and a smokey aroma of roasting rabbit and rationed coffee, took the chill out of the night mountain air. His bedroll laid out, his horse watered and now grazing on grass, Curry was sitting on a log near the fire when he heard the crisp sound of a snapping twig. Keen ears determined the direction of the sound and Curry drew his gun and waited for the person to reach the clearing.
"Who's out there?" Curry demanded.
"I've not drawn," a male voice replied as the stranger entered the campsite, his arms raised so his hands were parallel to his shoulders. "I smelled the coffee, and the food. Thought you might be able to spare a little of each."
Kid studied the stranger, a man a dozen years his senior with strands of gray in his brown hair, two or three days worth of stubble growth on his face, worn clothing that had not seen a washing in weeks, and dust covered, overly worn boots. His voice sounded slightly higher pitched than his appearance would suggest. "I mean no harm," the man said, taking cautious steps toward the fire.
Curry studied the man's face, with particular attention to his eyes. Satisfied with his assessment, Curry holstered his gun and nodded his invitation for the man to sit down.
"I'm Jed," Curry said as he poured the man the last of the coffee.
"Wheat," the stranger replied, taking the hot cup from Curry's extended hand.
"A few more minutes till the rabbit's done."
Wheat nodded and carefully eyed Curry's Colt .45 resting in the holster of the tied down gun belt.
"You just passing through?"
"Uh?" Curry asked. "Why?"
"This here is private property."
Curry eyed the perimeter of the camp for any other strangers that might be lurking behind trees. "I'll be leaving in the morning," he replied.
"It's just, we don't get too many strangers wandering up into these woods."
"We?"
Wheat's head gave a small reflex jerk. "Just, me and the boys.
"Ah."
Curry pulled the cuff of his shirtsleeve down over his hand and used the cloth to protect himself from a burn as he lifted the skewered rabbit from the fire and offered the first choice to the stranger. Aware that he was likely being watched, he made no sudden moves but split his attention between the stranger and woods just beyond the clearing.
Wheat broke off a leg and took a timid bite of the hot smokey meat. "You a gunslinger or an outlaw?" he asked with no hint of judgment in his voice.
"You got a reason for asking?"
"Might. Depends on your answer."
The corners of Curry's mouth turned up. "Some folks might consider me a gunslinger. I don't happen to be one of them," he replied and put a piece of the rabbit meat in his mouth.
"You wanted?" Wheat asked.
Curry sighed. "You ask a lot of questions."
"Like I said, we don't get many strangers up this way. Iffin you're a lawman, you ain't welcome. Iffin you're an outlaw, well that just might be another story."
"In that case, I appreciate your cordial hospitality, although it appears to me that I'm the one extending the hospitality at the moment."
Wheat uttered a scoffing sound. "You're still breathing, boy. As far as I'm concerned, that's more than enough hospitality."
Again Curry's eyes scanned the edges of the campsite.
"Oh you won't seem em, but they're out there, and every last one of em has got you in their sites," Wheat told him.
"What do you plan to do?" Curry asked, more curious than fearful as he took another bite of the rabbit.
"I don't know yet. We sent for our leader. We'll let him decide."
Curry picked up on the word leader. "You part of an outlaw gang?"
Wheat chuckled. "Now you're asking too many questions."
They sat in silence for the better part of an hour, Curry polishing off the last of the rabbit, as they waited for the man who had been summoned.
"So who's the land jumper?" the leader asked even before he had reached the clearing. He had left his horse in the woods with the other men and marched into the campsite with a confident gait.
Curry recognized the voice but maintained an enviable poker face.
"Says his name's Jed," Wheat called back to the leader
"Jed? Not... Jed?" Heyes asked, walking into the clearing.
Sitting near the fire, Curry's face was illuminated by the flames, while the face of Hannibal Heyes remained shadowed.
"Jed?" Heyes asked again.
Curry offered no familiar reciprocity. The two men had been separated for nearly two years. They had gone their separate ways, not out of anger, but because they no longer shared the same life goals, and the breach seemed too wide to bridge the gap.
"Heard you had joined a gang, Heyes," Curry said flatly.
"Yeah, well, I guess when you get your name on a wanted poster, word travels fast."
"Wouldn't know," Curry replied.
"So, you're still on the right side of the law?" Heyes asked with a slight hint of pride in his voice.
"Wouldn't go so far as to say that, but I ain't wanted."
"You two know each other?" Wheat asked.
"Yeah, in fact we go back a long way. Wheat Carlson, this is Jed 'Kid' Curry."
"Kid...? The fast draw?" Wheat asked.
Curry offered no acknowledgment of the question. He was proud to be a fast draw, but cared nothing of the notoriety.
Heyes could see by Kid's appearance that his life was hard, and he knew the growing reputation was likely the primary cause.
"It's been a long time, Kid. Why don't you come back to the hideout with us? Spend the night, a couple of days, however long you want. Nice warm bed to sleep in, and a hot breakfast in the morning." Heyes suggested.
Curry raised his eyes to his cousin and former partner, but shook his head. "Fine right here, and I still ain't fond of your coffee."
Wheat snickered but a sharp look from Heyes quickly silenced him.
"You don't look fine, Kid. How much money you got?" Heyes asked, immediately regretting the insinuation.
Curry pulled himself to his feet and began gathering his things.
"Does this mean you're coming back with us?" Heyes asked with a nervous smile.
Curry picked up his rolled bedding and tied it to the back of his saddle. "Already told you no."
"Kid, you came here intentionally, didn't you? I mean, what are the odds of you showing up in the Devil's Hole compound?"
"Before tonight I'd say a thousand to one and that's exactly what it was. No Heyes, I didn't come looking for you. Nothing's change in the last two years."
"Looks to me like a lot has changed. Look, Kid, I'm just offering you a warm bed and a hot meal. I'm not asking you to cross the line to my sie of the law."
Kid tightened the cinch of this saddle, then paused before turning back to his cousin. His hand moved to rest on his holster. "I might well end up on your side of the law one day. But the difference between you and me is that I won't do it intentionally. So don't worry, Heyes. I won't show up here again."
Their eyes locked and even after two years, much of their conversation occurred in silence.
"Wheat, go get my horse," Heyes ordered.
"What? You going with him?"
Heyes nodded. "We got some bridges to mend," he said, still watching Kid intensely.
Kid packed the last of his items in his saddlebags and climbed on his horse. He sat there for a moment looking down at Heyes.
"I already live my life by the hardware on my thigh, Heyes. I ain't adding outlawing to that... and you ain't coming with me," he said, then pulled hard on his reins and rode off into the darkness.
"Here you go, Heyes," Wheat said as he brought the sorrel up to Heyes and held the reins out to him.
Heyes didn't reach for the reins. Instead he crossed his arms across his chest and watched Kid disappear into the darkness.
"You ain't going after him?" Wheat asked.
Heyes turned abruptly to look at Wheat. "Let's get back to camp."
0-0-0-0-0
Few things in life rattled Kid Curry, but seeing Heyes again did just that. He didn't turn around. He didn't look back. If he had, he would have seen the truly sad disappointment on Heyes' face. Worse still, Heyes might have seen the same expression on his face.
Curry rode in the darkness throughout the night, wanting to put as much distance as he could between himself and an outlaw encampment. It wasn't really Heyes he wanted to avoid. Rather it was any association with an outlaw gang. Already tagged with a reputation as a fast draw, and all the ramifications associated with that, adding the role of an outlaw to his repertoire would surely shorten his life span, or at least his free, life span.
Curry headed west and rode into Ten Sleep the following afternoon. Ten Sleep was a small town, smaller than a city block. It arose from the needs of the cattle ranchers that populated the surrounding area. A saloon, a combined blacksmith and livery, a general store, and a bank that was surprisingly prosperous, in large part due to the local ranchers, comprised the local businesses. The saloon owner rented rooms above the saloon to the very infrequent visitors who passed through the town. The nearest stage was forty-five miles away, the nearest train was nearly a hundred miles away.
With eighty-five cents in his pocket, Curry tied his horse to the post and walked across the street to the saloon where only two customers sat drinking a beer.
"What'll you have, Mister?" the bartender asked.
"A beer and maybe a little information."
The bartender poured the beer and brought the glass to the counter. The sign on the wall announced the price of a beer and Curry put a dime on the counter.
"What kind of information?"
"Any place hiring?"
The bartender chuckled. "There's a depression going on. You won't find a job in a hundred mile radius. Even the ranchers are making due with the hands they got. Why do you think this saloon is so empty? Ain't nobody got any money."
"Don't suppose I could convince you to rent me a room for the night for twenty-five cents?" Curry asked.
The bartender smiled. "It's a Saturday night and you can see by the number of customers I got that I ain't making no profit. Ain't rented a room out in over a month, so I guess twenty-five cents is a site better than nothing. Mister, you got yourself a deal."
Curry smiled and dug the money out of his pocket and dropped it on the counter. "Obliged."
"Top of the stairs, first room on the right."
Curry relished the thoughts of sleeping on a mattress, regardless of how old and worn it might be. Despite the fact that it was not yet dark, he took what was left of his beer and headed up the stairs.
The sheets appeared clean though the blanket had a heavy, musty odor that permeated the room. Curry didn't care. He walked to the window and pulled back the tatted curtain to glance out into the empty street. He opened the window to air out the room, then pulled his hand back and let the curtain drop back into place. He sat on the bed and pulled off his boots, then unfastened his gun belt and slung it over the bedpost. Finally, he pulled back the blanket and top sheet and stretched out on the bed.
Clasping his hands behind his head, Curry lay staring at the ceiling. He thought about how little money he had and about how little chance he had of earning any. He thought about all the times he'd been challenged during the relatively short time he had been on his own. He thought about Lester Billings, the one man he had been forced to kill when when Billings had tried to bushwhack him in a dark alley after Billings lost a month's salary to him at a poker game in Sheridan just two months past.
And he thought of Heyes.
Kid couldn't fathom why Heyes chose the life of an outlaw. He saw no thrill in cracking a safe or outrunning a posse hell bent on killing the escaping thieves. As runaways, he and Heyes had done their share of stealing, but that was a matter of survival, not a career choice. Still, he missed the man he still considered his partner, the only other person in the world that he trusted, the only other person who had ever looked out for him, had seen that he had a roof over his head most nights, and food in his belly.
Exhausted, and with thoughts of Heyes still drifting about in his thoughts, Kid fell asleep.
Near midnight Curry was jolted awake by the shouts of "Fire," coming from the street below. He glanced toward the window and saw a flickering orange haze outside. Throwing on his boots and grabbing his gun belt, Curry ran to the window. The livery was on fire and people were filling buckets of water from the horse trough to try to put out the flames.
But Curry saw something else as well. He saw a faint flickering light from inside the bank. It lasted only a few seconds, then disappeared.
Curry raced down the stairs and out into the mayhem on the street. Everyone's attention was directed toward the fire as the town folk tried in vain to douse the flames. Curry crossed the street and ran behind the buildings, careful to stay out of sight, hidden in the shadows.
"Where you going?" the bartender shouted to Curry, but when Curry didn't acknowledge him, he quickly returned to scooping a bucket of water from the trough.
Half a dozen men on horses raced passed Curry as they galloped behind the buildings toward the opposite end of town, and he pressed his back hard against the building to stay out of sight.
When the riders were gone, he leaned his head forward and saw two riderless horses still tied to a tree behind the bank. He saw someone emerge from the bank with saddle bags thrown over his shoulders. He recognized him as the man he had shared the rabbit with the previous night. When the second man emerged, Curry stepped out into view, his gun drawn.
"Hold it!" he ordered.
Both men stopped just short of reaching their horses.
Curry was shocked to find himself now holding his cousin, Hannibal Heyes at gunpoint.
"Kid?" Heyes said as calmly as he could muster. "Put the gun down and walk away. You ain't involved."
"Hell he ain't!" Wheat growled. "He's a damn witness and he knows you! Hell, he knows me too, Heyes!"
"It's alright, Wheat. Kid won't identify us, will you?"
"You start the fire?" Kid asked.
"No," Heyes assured him. "That was just a lucky break. Go back around front, Kid. Nobody's gotta know what you seen."
"Somebody saw me come back here."
"Heyes!" Wheat aid with great irritation. "We gotta get outta here!"
Heyes held his hand outstretched to silence Wheat. He shook his head and bit his lip at the complication of Kid's confession.
"Where's your horse?" Heyes asked.
Curry glanced toward the flames and heard Heyes swear.
"You can stay, but when they realize the bank's been robbed and someone remembers seeing you running back here, that's gonna be hard to explain. Or you can come with us. You can ride with me. That will buy you time and we can figure out... something. But you gotta decide fast, Kid."
Curry paused a moment longer, then holstered his gun and the three men mounted and raced off into the darkness.
0-0-0-0-0-0
The next morning Curry emerged from the spare bedroom of the leader's cabin to find his cousin sitting at the table pouring over a ledger book. He asked no questions, instead opting for a cup of coffee that he poured from the pot warming on the stove.
"You sleep alright?' Heyes asked.
Curry stood sipping his coffee and looking around the room. "This your place?" he asked.
"Uh-uh. There's a bunkhouse next door for all the fellas."
When Heyes noticed Kid was not asking any more questions, he looked up from his work and pointed to a small stack of money on the table. "That's your share," he told Kid.
"My share?"
Heyes grinned. "I figure you're entitled."
Kid looked at the money with obvious desire, but made no attempt to pick it up.
"Go ahead, Kid. Take it."
"I told you before Heyes, outlawing is your choice, not mine."
They locked eyes for a long moment before Heyes got up and walked to the cupboard where he retrieved a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He sat back down at the table and motioned for Kid to do the same. Once Kid was seated, Heyes filled both glasses and slid one across the table.
"What makes outlawing any different than being the fastest gun in the west?" Heyes asked.
"Being a fast gun ain't illegal."
"How much money you got in your pocket?"
Kid didn't respond so Heyes continued on.
"And just how long do you think it will be till you're so in need of money that you will hire out that gun of yours?"
Kid shook his head. "They don't go hand in hand, Heyes. No matter how hard you try to convince me, or convince yourself, they don't go hand in hand."
Heyes took a swig of his whiskey then leaned back in his seat and rested one hand on the arm of the chair. "Alright, try this on for size... You may not have robbed that bank last night, but you aided and abetted two outlaws, and by your own admission, there's somebody in that town that saw you run toward the back of the bank. In fact, you're the only one in the whole gang that anyone can identify as being in that town last night... You're in Kid, whether you like it or not."
"There ain't nobody in that town that knows me by name... Ain't more than three people who even saw me."
"You might be right, then again you might not be. There's was a lot of people fighting that fire. Anyone of em could have gotten a good look at you."
Curry studied Heyes for some time. "Maybe I'd best be going," he said.
"With what? You got a horse?"
"Why are you doing this, Heyes?"
"Because I know you, and I'd trust you with my life, Kid."
"So it's just for your benefit? You want to drag me into this... just to watch your back?"
"No, not at all, Kid. I want to drag you into this because I want to watch your back. You're faster with a gun than anyone I've ever seen, but you know as well as I do that someday, someone's gonna come along that's faster. When that happens, I want to help make that person think twice before trying anything."
"And becoming an outlaw is the way to do that? Putting a price on my head and a prison sentence in my future is a way to do that? Heyes, I trusted you as a kid and you looked out for me real good. I was agreeable to some pilfering and flimflamming because it put food in our stomachs, but there's honest ways of doing that now."
"And I can see that's working out real well for you, Kid."
"And your way's better? Having to hide out in the woods, a price on your head?"
"And money on the table," Heyes argued.
Again Kid just shook his head.
"Kid, how many men have you killed?"
Curry didn't answer but Heyes knew there was indeed a number, based on the way Kid's eyes flashed quickly toward him and then a away.
When I rode with Plummer, the attitude was to kill if necessary. I never happened to find it necessary, and neither does any one in this gang.. and we don't steal nothing directly from any individual person. You and me both know how hard people hafta work for their money and what little extravagances they may have."
"The money in them safes on trains and in banks, or in the strongbox on a stage belongs to those hard working people."
"Maybe a little of it, but most belongs to companies and corporations, mostly in the form of payroll money, and them companies still make sure their workers get paid, else the workers would quit."
"You got an answer for everything, don't you, Heyes?"
"I do my homework. If we steal money, it's cause I know where it came from. Them companies and banks can afford to lose a little of their profits."
Curry's silence told Heyes that Kid was not convinced. "I'll tell you what. This afternoon we'll move you into the bunkhouse. You stay a week talking to the boys, listening, seeing what goes on. At the end of that week, if you don't want to stay, I'll give you a horse and you can be on your way. Deal?"
Kid gave this some thought. He really had no choice being as he had no horse. Reluctantly Kid nodded. "Deal."
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Wheat, Kid has decided to stay on for a week, so he's moving in here. I want you to introduce him to the boys, find him a spare bunk, maybe have someone show him around the place."
"So, caudal him?" Wheat asked with a bit of defiant agitation. "You want us to serve him afternoon tea, too Heyes?"
"Don't be proddy, Wheat," Heyes told him.
Wheat took Heyes by the arm and led him away from Kid. "You do know what you're doing, don't you? I know he's your friend and all, but if he decides he don't want to join up with us, you'll be sending him out of here with a full description of every one of us, not to mention knowing the exact location of this camp."
"I told you Wheat, Kid ain't gonna sell us out. You've got nothing to worry about."
"Been close to two years since you seen him? A man can change in two years, Heyes."
"Wheat, I'm still the leader of this gang, and unless you're intending to do something about that, this conversation is over."
Wheat stood with a hand on one hip and glowered at Heyes, but Heyes stood his ground and Wheat chewed his lip, then lowered his head slightly and walked back to where Kid was standing.
"Come on, I'll show you the empty bunks and you can take your pick," he told Kid. "Kyle, get the Kid a bowl of stew and some coffee," he said with exaggerated emphasis on the word Kid.
Kid dropped his hat on a vacant cot, then followed Wheat to the table and sat down. Wheat shook his head and walked away, but Kyle placed a bowl of stew, a spoon, and a cup of coffee in front of Kid, then sat down on the bench across from him and folded his arms on the table to watch Kid's every move. Curry glanced at the man sitting across from him. His clear blue eyes were a stark contrast to the other facial features, the yellowed teeth with bits of tobacco wedged in the gums, the dried trace of brown spittle that had drooled out the left side of his mouth, the dark stubble that spread across his chin and cheeks.
"Nobody ever told you it ain't polite to stare?" Curry remarked as he scooped a spoonful of stew into his mouth and kept his own eyes focused on the bowl of food.
Kyle stiffened noticeably and dropped his arms from the table. "Sorry, it's just...are you as fast as they say you are?" he asked with an almost childlike wonder in his voice.
Kyles' innocent wonder nearly brought a smile to Kid's face.
"Kyle, is it?" Curry asked and Kyle nodded eagerly "When I'm done here, you show me around this place and I'll show you my fast draw. How's that?"
"I think that's a fine idea," Kyle exclaimed.
Later that afternoon, after showing Kid around the compound, Kyle set up six empty cans on a log, then walked off to the side to watch Kid practice. Curry checked his gun chamber, then snapped it closed before giving the gun a skillful twirl and dropping it neatly into his holster.
"Say when," Curry instructed.
"Now!" Kyle replied and Curry swiftly and neatly dropped all six cans with a speed Kyle had never before witnessed.
"So it is true what they say about you."
"Ain't wise to believe everything you hear, Kyle."
Kyle grinned nervously and spit tobacco juice to the ground.
"So tell me, Kyle," Curry said as he reloaded his gun. "Everybody got a certain place in this gang?"
"A certain place?"
"Well, Heyes is the leader. Where do all the rest of you fit in? Wheat, for example."
Kyle shuffled his feet, wrapped his thumbs inside his waistband, and chewed his tobacco very slowly. "Well, when we're robbing a bank or a train, Wheat is what Heyes likes to call his Second Bandit."
Cury kept his head down but couldn't help by grin. Heyes did like a certain order in his life. "Heyes is First Bandit, I would guess?"
"Well, he does do all the planning."
"So what does Second Bandit do?"
"Keeps an eye on the surroundings, warns Heyes if there's something not quite right, watches Heyes' back."
"So Wheat must be a good shot?"
Kyle nodded. Wheat being his friend, Kyle couldn't bring himself to admit out loud that Curry was a far better shot."
"And what do you do, Kyle?" Curry asked.
"The rest of us is back up. Some of us might be the ones to back up Wheat at lookouts, couple of us will make sure the horses are in position and ready to ride after Heyes cracks a safe."
"That's it?" Curry asked.
Kyle couldn't help but puff his chest out a bit. "Well, I'm what Heyes likes to call the dynamite expert. If we come up upon a Brooker 202, well the tumblers on those safes is tricky. Heyes says they got something called a synchronized tumbler system. Heyes could open it, but he says it's a lot faster and safer to just blow it, especially if it happens to be on a train."
"Where did Heyes learn to open a safe the way he does?"
"I s'pect that happened when he rode with Jim Plummer."
"Never heard of him before today. Heyes mentioned the name this morning. Who is he?"
"He was the leader of the gang Heyes rode with before he joined up with the Devil's Hole gang."
"Did Heyes start out as leader here?"
Kyle smiled at that thought. "No, Jim Santana was the leader when Heyes was recruited. Poor Jim got himself arrested about six months after Heyes joined up. When that happened, we voted on who should be leader."
"Who else was you considering?"
"It was between Heyes and Wheat."
"And how did you vote?"
"Well, Heyes has got a lot of good ideas."
"What was the final count?"
"Heyes got eight votes. Wheat got one and one person abstained."
Curry nodded and hid a grin from Kyle's view. "You ready to line up them cans again?" Curry asked.
As Kyle stacked the cans, Curry gave a quick glance toward the bunkhouse, fully aware that Wheat was watching them from the window.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"Preacher, you've got watch today," Wheat announced at breakfast a couple of days later.
"What's watch?" Curry asked.
"You can see for yourself if you want to come along," Preacher told him.
Curry nodded as he filled his plate with scrambled eggs and bacon.
An hour later Curry and Preacher stood behind a large boulder a thousand feet above the main entrance to Devil's Hole. The view from where they stood offered a clean view of the entrance, while at the same time, completely obscured any chance of them being spotted from the road.
"We're hidden away pretty good up here," Preacher explained. "It's the only way into Devil's Hole, or at least the only way anyone outside of the gang knows of. There's a back way, but the woods is so thick, you can only find it if you know the area real good."
"So, you see somebody coming in and you go back to camp and tell everyone?" Curry asked.
Preacher smiled. "Not exactly. You see, anyone coming in here on legitimate business knows to signal from the entrance down there, and they know to wait till I, or whoever is on guard, signals back at em."
"And if somebody don't signal?"
"Then you make sure they understand not to come any further," Preacher replied while tapping his holster.
Curry nodded, understanding the intent of Preacher's explanation.
"Might as well settle in cause we're here on guard till tomorrow morning," Preacher said and sat down behind some shrubbery. "So, I know they call you the Kid and I know your last name is Curry. What's your Christian name?'
"Jedidiah. Those that use it usually shorten it to Jed."
Preacher smiled. "Jedidiah, the blessed second son. You must have an older brother."
"Had four of em. They're all gone now thanks to the war."
"You and Heyes must go way back. He's never allowed a stranger into the Hole before, much less invited one."
Curry nodded but didn't explain how he and Heyes happened to be so familiar with the other. But Preacher was a smart man in his own right and surmised that too, likely had something to do with the war.
"Kyle says you're mighty handy with that gun of yours."
"I manage."
"He says you're the fastest he's ever seen."
"Suppose that's for others to judge not me."
"You modest or just secretive?"
"You a Preacher or just a side show act?"
Preacher smiled. "Cocky too, uh? You best be careful who you use that line on. It could get you in a peck of trouble."
"I'll remember that," Curry replied.
Deciding that Curry was too cautious, too wary to reveal anything about himself of any importance, Preacher got up and walked around a bit to stretch his legs. Curry watched the entrance as though expecting someone to approach. No one did. Eventually Preacher returned to his spot near Curry and sat down.
"You a religious man, Curry?"
Curry had never been able to reconcile religion and the life he had led, the deaths he had seen, the fate of two young boys, but he had never tried to discount such beliefs held by others. "Can't say that I am," he replied.
"Romans, chapter six, verse twenty-three states 'the wages that sin pays are death.' There's more to it than that, but it speaks well to the life of an outlaw. It might be by a gun, it might be by a hanging, hell, it might just be by a prison sentence, but an outlaw's life is short. I suspect the same is true of a gunslinger."
"You trying to make a point, Preacher?"
"Let me tell you something Jedidiah, this gang might be made up of a bunch of oddballs and misfits, but so is every other outlaw gang you'll likely come across. The difference with this gang is that we all look out for each other, and we got a leader who makes it a point to know every single detail there is to know about a bank or a train that he's considering as a target. This gang betters your potential life span."
Curry smiled. "Heyes ever consider making you the official recruiter, Preacher?"
0-0-0-0-0-0-
Curry and Preacher returned to the bunkhouse the next morning feeling tired and hungry. While they were able to fill their bellies with the breakfast that awaited them, sleep was another matter, as Heyes was there just finishing up telling the boys of another possible train robbery. Heyes spoke to the group, but his eyes followed Preacher and Kid as they slipped into seats at the table. Preacher and Curry had missed the details, but were present for the gang's reaction. Several questions were thrown out and Heyes had a reasonable and well thought out answer for each.
"Just something to think about," Heyes said in conclusion. "The payroll shipment is on the twenty-eighth, so that gives us over three weeks to think and plan. You boys mull it over for a day or two and we'll talk about it again."
Kid reached for a pot of steaming oatmeal sitting in the center of the table and scooped a healthy serving into a bowl as Heyes headed for the door.
"Oh, Kid, I want to see you in my cabin in an hour."
Kid looked up at Heyes who offered no hint of his intentions. He gave Heyes a nod, then reached for the pot of coffee on the table. His sleep might have to be delayed, but he was not going to miss a meal.
Wheat bristled at the fact that Heyes wanted a private meeting with Kid. Wheat thought of himself a second in command and he resented the fact that someone who was not even a member of the gang would be garnering such attention from the leader, and he was determined that this new kid would not usurp his position.
When Curry had finished his breakfast, he headed over to the leader's cabin and found Heyes sitting in a chair on the porch.
"You wanted to see me, Heyes?" Kid asked as he climbed the stairs.
Heyes smiled and motioned to an empty chair for Kid to sit down.''I decided we should talk out here. I don't want Wheat or the boys thinking I'm planning something behind their backs."
"Are you?' Kid asked.
Heyes ignored the question. "Week's half over. You on your way to a decision?"
"Working on it."
"Gonna keep me in suspense?"
Kid sighed. "A lot to consider. To tell you the truth, I'm trying to keep the biggest consideration outta the mix."
"That being me, I suppose?"
"We was partners a long time. I don't know how things wouldda turned out without you. Now...Well now I carry my life around in a holster, and I can see this place, these fellas, you, all provide me with a little protection from that. But there's another side to that coin, Heyes. I don't know if I'm willing to cross that line."
"Is there something specific that might convince you?"
Curry shook his head. "Just need some more time, that's all."
Across the way, from inside the bunkhouse, Wheat stood at the sink, peering out to the cabin porch where Heyes and Curry sat talking. Kyle noticed Wheat's posture and walked over to see what was of such interest.
"What are you looking at, Wheat?"
"Heyes and that greenback having a private parlay."
"What do you suppose they're talking about?" Kyle asked.
"Nothing good, that's for sure."
When Heyes and Kid stood, thus concluding their conversation, Wheat pulled himself back from the window. But Kid saw the flash of movement and had determined early on that Wheat Carlson was his one factor of contention. He had said nothing of that to Heyes, knowing he was fully capable of dealing with the matter himself when the time was right.
When Heyes walked back into the cabin, Curry stepped off the porch and started back toward the bunkhouse. Wheat immediately headed for the door.
"Where you going, Wheat?' Kyle asked.
"The privy," Wheat grumbled.
"Wheat," Curry said in a flat acknowledgment as they crossed paths.
"You as good a suck up as you are with that gun?" Wheat asked in a mumbled tone as he walked past Curry.
Curry stopped and turned around. "You got something to say to me, Wheat?"
Wheat stopped, turned abruptly, and ambled confidently back to stand face to face with Curry.
"I know the two of you go way back. Figure you're just trying to draw on overdue favors."
"If you're looking for a fight, Wheat, I'm more than willing to oblige."
A confident smile spread across Wheat's face and he began to unbuckle his gun belt, never taking his eyes off Curry. He relished the idea of bringing Kid Curry down a notch.
Curry didn't smile, but watched Wheat intently as he too removed his gun belt.
"Hey, fells, there's gonna be a fight!" Kyle shouted to the men still inside the bunkhouse.
"Who's fighting?" Lobo asked.
"Wheat and the Kid!"
Soon a loose circle of outlaws had formed abound the two men as fists began to fly. Landing a hard right to the jaw, Wheat's opponent stumbled backward, but didn't fall. Gaining his balance, Kid ran toward Wheat, his head bent low as he head-butted Wheat firmly in the stomach, knocking both men to the ground where they rolled and landed hard punches on the other.
The men in the circle all cheered for Wheat, a man more than capable of holding his own.
The noise of the cheers permeated the cabin walls and Heyes rushed out to see what the commotion was all about. He watched from the porch for several minutes, but offered no verbal support to either fighter.
Realizing there would be no victor, Heyes stepped down off the porch and approached the circle of men.
"Alright, break it up!" Heyes shouted, but neither Curry nor Wheat made any effort to follow Heyes' order, and the crowd continued to cheer.
Heyes raised his Schofield into the air and fired a shot and the crowd grew silent. Even Wheat and Heyes stopped at the sound of the gunshot.
"That's enough!" Heyes shouted. "What's this about?" he demanded.
Curry and Wheat slowly pulled themselves to their feet and swatted the dirt and dust from their pants.
"Ask him," Curry replied.
"Wheat?"
Wheat shook his head and spit a bit of blood on the ground, then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Nothing we can't handle on our own," he replied.
"You know there's a rule about no fighting. Both of you get cleaned up, then come to the cabin."
Heyes holstered his gun and stood with his hands on his hips as all the men slowly migrated back into the bunkhouse.
Heyes knew exactly what the fight was about. Wheat fancied himself the number two man in the gang and Curry's presence, along with his gun skills, threatened that position. Heyes also knew Wheat was correct in his concern. If Kid did decide to join the gang, Heyes fully intended to make him the official number two man and, he planned to move Kid into the leader's cabin. No matter how much time had passed, Heyes still considered Kid his partner. Now he knew others, or at least Wheat, also knew that to be true. At the moment, what Heyes didn't know was how to eliminate that animosity or how to balance the dynamics within the gang.
But he knew it had to be addressed and dealt with quickly. They had a job to do in three weeks and everyone had to be on the same page, equally responsible for each other, equally willing to defend and protect each other.
Wheat and Kid arrived at the cabin, both showing the beginnings of bruises, both still dripping a bit of blood from from one or more well placed facial blows, both with bruised right knuckles. Heyes handed them each a rag to continue dabbing the slowing oozing blood.
"Both of you sit down," Heyes ordered and pointed to the table. Both slid onto a bench and were now facing each other.
"It's pretty obvious to me what this is about and I'm gonna tell you right now Wheat, Kid ain't decided if he's gonna stay. So there's no point getting your feathers all ruffled. And Kid, until such time you do decide to stay, you got no right taking pot shots at my men. You both understand me?"
Both Curry and Wheat nodded, but neglected to attempt any eye contact with the other.
"So as long as Kid is in this camp, I expect the both of you to be civil to the other. And if Kid does decide to stay, the rules of this camp apply just as much to the two of you as they do to everybody else. I can't make you like each other, but I do expect you to respect each other. We all have to know we can depend on each other, and if the two of you can't do that, then you can both leave, cause in a bind, you ain't no good to this gang. You understand me?"
Again both men nodded.
"That ain't enough. I want to hear it outta both of you."
"I understand," Wheat said under his breath.
"I understand, Heyes," Curry replied.
"Good, now the two of you are on kitchen duty for the rest of the week. Maybe you'll learn how to work together. That's all. You can go now."
The two men stood and, still making no eye contact, walked out of the leader's cabin, the screen door creaking as it closed behind them.
"He always been that overbearing?' Wheat asked Kid as they walked back to the bunkhouse.
"He was born overbearing," Curry replied. "And it's only gotten worse over the years."
"Well, maybe with you're in the gang, the two of us could give Hannibal Heyes a good run for his money," Wheat replied with a laugh and swung an arm across Kid's shoulder.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Kid, did Heyes explain to you that every Friday night we all ride into town for a little recreational fun?" Kyle asked over a breakfast of burnt bacon and very dry fried eggs that Kid and Wheat had fixed for the gang.
"Doubt there's much that needs explaining," Kid replied. "I mean recreational fun sounds like alcohol, poker, and whores. Does that pretty well sum it up?"
"So you've done that sort of thing before?"
Kid put on his best poker face and glanced across the table at Wheat who was struggling to curtail a loud snicker. "A time or two, Kyle," Kid replied.
"Well, if you want to come along, we usually leave here about three."
"I appreciate the offer, Kyle. I think I just might take you up on that."
Kyle grinned and gave Kid a definitive nod before heading out to clean the barn.
"Kyle's a good man," Wheat told Kid. "A little on the naive side, but he means well."
Kid suddenly remembered he had only fifty cents in his pocket. Then he remembered the money Heyes had offered him earlier in the week. He bristled at the thought of asking Heyes for that money now.
"Wheat, is there anyone in the bunkhouse that could spot me maybe ten dollars. I'd be willing to pay him a fare amount of interest on it."
Wheat looked at Kid with a bit of puzzlement. "Now how do you expect to pay that back if you're leaving in a couple of days, or have you decided to up and stay?"
"I'm a pretty fair poker player. I suspect I could pay the person back tonight."
"You are a confident sort, ain't you. I tell you what, I'll loan you ten dollars, but you pay it back one way or another by Sunday night. If you ain't got the money, that Peacemaker of yours will do."
Kid thought about the deal for a minute. "Alright. It's a deal."
Wheat reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar gold piece an tossed it to Kid. "Now let's get these dishes cleaned up. We gotta get started on making lunch."
The small little town just a few miles from Devil's Hole was a nearly perfect place for the gang to venture to when their money was plentiful. No more than a dozen shops and businesses anchored the single street town and, because the Devil's Hole gang was so generous with their money, the City Council annually voted against the hiring of a sheriff or the building of a jail. Once the City Council actually considered naming the town Devil's Hole, but Jim Santana, the leader of the gang at that time, convinced them to reconsider. So instead, the town was named Gold Leaf.
Hannibal Heyes, driving a buckboard that provided passage back to camp for those too inebriated to stay astride their horses, always led the entourage of outlaws into town, and always took a table near the entrance to spend the evening keeping a none too restrictive eye on the gang members. Heyes never drank more than a couple of beers on these evenings, and the boys were all responsible for paying for their own drinks and visits with the whores, Heyes did always did give the saloon owner a hundred dollar tip at the end of the evening, so the owner was always a bit more tolerant of the boy's behaviors. He did however, keep a shotgun under the counter, the fact of which Heyes was fully aware.
The saloon was usually surprisingly busy on these Friday nights. Instead of being fearful of an outlaw gang, many men in town and cowboys from the nearby ranches came in just to gamble and share a beer with the notorious outlaws.
With horses tethered to the post outside, the gang piled in through the batwing doors and ambled up to the bar for the first of many drinks. Curry however, was the last to enter and his hand automatically rested on the swinging door for a instant while his eyes swept the room. Satisfied with what he saw, Curry pushed open the door and joined the others at the bar.
As the evening progressed, the saloon was filled with the aromas of beer, whiskey, and smoke, and the sounds of a player piano, ruckus laughter, and a steady rumble of conversations. Every whore employed by the saloon owner worked on Friday nights and there was always a near steady stream of traffic up and down the stairs.
Curry spent the first three hours nursing a beer or two and twice enjoying the company of a pretty little whore named Annie. He intentionally waited to join a poker game when the players were inebriated to one degree or another, as their judgment dulled and their bets soared. By midnight, Curry had paid Wheat the ten dollars owed him, and had more than a hundred dollars folded neatly in his pocket.
But also by midnight, nearly all the town's men knew the stranger with the dirty blond hair and the quiet demeanor was the infamous Kid Curry. One such patron, drunk enough to have acquired some newfound bravery, but not yet drunk enough to pass out on the floor, decided the time had come to challenge the famous fast draw.
Curry was standing at the bar with his back to the room, having let his own guard down a bit, knowing Heyes and the other gang members were present.
"I can outdraw the likes of you, Curry!" a cowboy shouted from the far end of the room.
The room suddenly grew silent, save for the piano music that someone quickly silenced.
Curry did not move, but his eyes rose to the mirror along the wall behind the bar. He said nothing, but carefully watched the drunken cowboy.
The bartender reached down for the rifle he kept beneath the bar, but Heyes caught his eye and discretely shook his head and the bartender's hand slowly returned to the counter.
"I'm talking to you, Curry!"
Kid tapped his fingers on the bar, then slowly turned to face the cowboy. He stood erect and folded his arms across his chest as the patrons quickly lined the walls to get out of the line of fire.
Wheat, who happened to be standing at the far end of the bar and knew the cowboy by name, also turned to face the room. "Well now Hank," Wheat began in a slow drawl, "I've seen you shoot, and you ain't no match for this fella. Besides," he added as he took slow but decisive steps toward Kid, "you got two people ready to draw on you, and you sure ain't no match for that."
"Make it three," Kyle added as he too joined Curry and Wheat at the bar.
Even in his drunken state, the cowboy knew he was now in over his head, and when one of his friends came to his rescue by suggesting he return to the poker game, the cowboy jumped at the opportunity and muttered an apology as he cautiously returned to the poker table and someone quickly stuck a dime in the payer piano.
"Appreciate what the two of you done," Curry told Wheat and Kyle.
"Wouldn't want a man of your reputation to be outdrawn by some young sprout who's still wet behind the ears," Wheat said with a chuckle, then moved back down the bar where his beer awaited.
"You too, Kyle," Kid told him.
Kyle nodded and moved down the bar to join Wheat.
Heyes, who had a first row seat at this event, smiled proudly at the display of camaraderie displayed by three of the gang. He caught Kid's eye and waved him over to the table. Curry picked up his beer and sat down next to Heyes so his back was also against the wall.
"I like the way the three of you handled that," Heyes told Kid.
"I wouldn't of killed him," Curry replied.
Heyes nodded his head. "I know. You're not a killer."
Curry was silent for a moment. "I have killed a man, Heyes," Curry said quietly.
"I figured that, but it's not your first reaction. I could see tonight that your first reaction is to determine if there's a way not to spill blood on the floor. Wheat and Kyle figured that out as quick as me... Kid, there's strength in numbers."
Kid sighed. "I'm staying, Heyes. But I'm gonna tell you something you ain't gonna like. I didn't decide to join up because of the things you said the other morning. In fact most of what you said, wouldda convinced me not to stay, although... I think you're right about the safety. I think most folks who want to outdraw Kid Curry will think twice about trying to outdraw an outlaw. But I decided to join up for two or three other reasons too. The first is because of Wheat. That fight yesterday showed me just how much Wheat respects you, and how loyal he is to you and to the gang. The second was a combination of things Kyle and Preacher said."
"They all sound like valid and well thought out reasons," Heyes replied
"There's a third reason, Heyes. That one's about you and me, and the fact that, good or bad, we're partners. We always have been and I suspect in one way or another we always will be."
Heyes smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Kid, and I know there's a lot of truth in what you said. But as much as I hate to admit it, you're staying does present one problem..."
"Wheat?"
Heyes nodded. "In spite of what you might think, Wheat is a good man, loyal to the gang, and he's good at his job."
"Which is to watch your back?"
Heyes nodded. "And everybody else's, too. But I think I got the solution for that."
"What if he decides not to stay?" Kid asked.
"I'll do my best to see that it doesn't come down to that."
"What if he says it's either him or me, not both?"
Heyes smiled. "I'll make sure it doesn't come down to that, Kid."
"Well, you're the leader, Heyes. It's your call."
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Wheat! You got a minute?" Heyes shouted as Wheat was making his way from the privy to the bunkhouse.
Wheat paused, then turned and joined Heyes on the porch of the leader's cabin. "If you're thinking of ousting me over your friend..."
"Nope, nothing like that," Heyes quickly interrupted as he placed an arm across the back of Wheat's shoulders. "In fact, I'm thinking of giving you a promotion."
Wheat smiled. "A promotion?"
"Let's go inside to talk over a whiskey."
Once inside, Heyes steered Wheat to one of the comfortable chairs near the fireplace. Then he walked over to the kitchen and poured them each a whiskey. Returning to the living area, Heyes handed Wheat the shot glass and sat down on the settee across from Wheat.
"Wheat, since I've been leader, I seen what a fine job you do, not only with keeping me safe,but with keeping the boys in line, nurturing the camaraderie in the bunkhouse..."
"Camaraderie?"
"Making sure the boys all get along, don't bicker too much amongst themselves."
Wheat nodded knowingly, though in truth, he had never thought of himself in that manner.
"Wheat, I'm gonna make you the foreman of the bunkhouse. We're gonna sectioned off an area to build you your own room, to distinguish you from the others, show them what a high position you've earned."
One side of Wheat's mouth turned up into a smile.
"What about the Kid? Everybody knows the two of you go way back."
"I'm gonna pull Kid outta the bunkhouse, so the boys know there's just one foreman, and that man is you."
"Kid ain't gonna feel slighted by that?" Wheat asked.
Heyes frowned and shook his head. "I'll put Kid in charge of watching my back. You yourself know that ain't too hard of a job, and besides, Kid's been doing that his whole life so, he won't go getting nervous thinking he has to prove something."
Wheat nodded, seeing the logic of Heyes' statement.
"You go on back over to the bunkhouse, but don't breathe a word of this to anyone. I'll be over in a few minutes and make an official announcement. After that you can start planning that room of yours. We'll take the money outta the budget to pay for the materials you'll need. You can delegate all the work to the boys if you've a mind to."
Wheat smiled at the thought of having such authority. He was going to like being foreman. He stood and nodded his appreciation to Heyes and Heyes walked him to the door and watched him cross the yard to the bunkhouse.
"He took that quite well," Kid said, emerging from the spare bedroom as Heyes closed the front door and returned to the living area. "It's obvious you still got that silver tongue."
"It feels right, you're being here, Kid, and us back to being partners again."
Kid nodded and poured himself a whiskey, then sat down in the chair Wheat had occupied minutes before.
"I don't even much mind the word outlaw now, Heyes," he said and took a drink of his whiskey. "I think of it more like...partners in crime," he said with a smile.
"Good, cause after I go talk to the boys, you and me are gonna sit down and plan that train robbery. If you're gonna be an outlaw, no sense putting it off."
"You know, there's just one thing, Heyes. I've got me a reputation. There's people that recognize me on the sight."
"Anybody got any pictures of you?"
Kid shook his head. "Only picture of me is the one with you and Clem from the last time we was all together."
Heyes thought for a moment."None of us have ever tried to hide our faces, so there's people that can recognize all of us, too...But maybe you and me ought to go pay Clem a visit one of these days and put an end to that picture."
Kid smiled and took another gulp of his whiskey. "I've always liked the way you think, Heyes."