Kid Curry ducked down into his saddle, sighing breathlessly in relief as two bullets swished close to his ear neither finding their mark. But before he even had time to get off a returning shot, there was another flurry of bullets. He kept low in his saddle and looked back over his shoulder with a sinking feeling in his stomach. As two of the bullets hit Heyes in his arm and leg he fell with a pained cry and the Kid suddenly oblivious to the danger pulled his horse round desperately and started towards his partner.

An anguished 'Heyes' was ripped out of him, as his partner's obviously unconscious form rolled down the stony path towards the edge of the steep ravine. For a single blessed moment it seemed he would stop in time, but then as the Kid watched in horror his body rolled over the cliff edge. A bullet thudded into the back of his own shoulder and his horse bucked in panic. He was thrown off his mount, landing awkwardly on his left leg as his head slammed into the hard ground, but before everything went black the Kid was sure he could hear heavy thuds and a resounding splash as his partner bounced down the steep stony sides of the cliff into the river below.

He woke slowly and painfully, carefully assessing just how badly off he was. His mouth tasted like something had died in it, his head, ankle and upper back were all throbbing and he felt sick. He squinted around him through half open eyes and although everything was fuzzy he could tell he was in a jail cell of some kind. For a few moments he was surprised to see the other bunk empty. But then memory came back in a painful rush and Kid blinked away sudden tears at the realisation he'd never see his partner again. The memory of helplessly watching him roll out of sight made him groan. He rolled onto his side and curled his body as much as the narrow cot would let him as the urge to vomit overcame him and he threw up a small amount of yellowy liquid that splashed onto the already dirty floor.

A deep masculine voice drew him out of his misery. "Well ain't that mighty fine, son. You're gonna have to clean that up." He turned to look in the direction of the sound and saw a blurry vision of a man. There was a star pinned to his chest that caught the light from the slitted window. He blinked again and his vision cleared. He was a little surprised to find that he wasn't handcuffed or otherwise restrained. He muffled a groan as he brought his hands up to rub his gritty eyes and slowly rolled onto his back again. "Now son, I'm gonna come in, so don't do anything stupid." That startled a small laugh out of him, as if he could stand, let alone attempt an escape, which probably explained the lack of shackles. The Kid watched as the man, who Kid assumed was either the sheriff or a deputy entered the cell. "How you feelin' son?" The man's voice was surprisingly kind and despite what he'd said, he wiped up the mess himself and then tossed the soiled cloth into the unused commode by the back wall. "Doc's coming over to check on you in about twenty minutes. He figured you'd be about ready to wake up."

Kid was surprised at the man's consideration. "Weren't exactly expectin' no doctorin'."

"Now, son. I know you ain't never killed no one on them trains and banks you robbed, so it ain't like you're up for being hung, even with them posters saying dead or alive. If you don't cause no trouble you won't find none while you're in this jail."

Kid coughed to clear his desperately dry throat and asked with no small amount of trepidation "My partner, did you? Is he?" He couldn't finish either thought out loud as the image of Heyes vanishing off the cliff swam across his mind. Confirmation of what he already feared, wouldn't make it any easier to accept, but he had to know the truth.

The man looked at him and answered in a blunt but not cruel tone. "We didn't find no body." He paused a little awkwardly before adding sharply, obviously the frail hope the Kid was feeling was showing on his face. "But afore you start hoping for a miracle, weren't no sign of blood or tracks leading away neither. I don't see how he coulda survived that fall." He paused his brow creased as if he were debating something and then added " We sure gave the place a good look round."

Kid nodded, the words stabbing like a hot blade in his stomach. As the small flicker of hope faded at the news that they'd not found any sign of Heyes' escape, anger replaced it, fanned by a growing sense of injustice that after everything they'd been through they'd still lost it all. "I bet ya did, after all there ain't no reward without a body ain't that right?" At his harsh tone, the man's face hardened and he shook his head. "Look, son, I ain't fond of unnecessary killin'. But you and that partner of yours knew the risks when you chose your path, so ain't exactly fair you pointin' fingers. You both got a pretty rough reputation even though you're not murderers. So it weren't like we'd expect you to come in easy. You think on that, son." With that he turned his back on the Kid and left the cell, locking the door behind him.

Kid closed his eyes and groaned again, as the image of Heyes rolling to his death continued to run through his head on a repeating loop.

But somehow despite the pain and grief, he dozed off, coming awake with a start when he heard voices close to the cell door. The sheriff was talking to a man, who judging by the bag he was carrying was the Doctor. "You be careful now, Doc. Just take what you need outta your bag and leave it here. He ain't exactly fit to be causing no trouble, but he's as ornery as a polecat, so we don't want to be taking no unnecessary chances."

The doctor laughed softly as he looked over at the Kid, before rummaging in his bag, bringing out some ointment, bandages and a couple of things Kid couldn't see clearly. "Well, Ty, can't says as I blame him. He's in a real mess and his future isn't very bright. I don't expect he's feeling mighty happy at the moment."

The words were said matter of factly, with no malice, although the truth of them still hurt. The Doctor finished with his bag and handed it over to the sheriff. "Think that should be everything." The law-man unlocked the cell door and ushered the man in with a fierce glare at Kid. "Now, mind your manners, son. Or I might have to cuff ya."

Kid shrugged, unimpressed by the threat, but he could see no point in riling the man any further so only said calmly. "I'll behave. Ain't no point in adding to my problems if I can avoid it."

"Well, son, lets take a look at you." The Kid unbuttoned his shirt and eased it off his shoulders, wincing as the material pulled at the dried blood on the bullet wound. He couldn't muffle the groan that escaped as the Doctor slapped a pungent smelling balled up cloth straight onto the hole in his skin. His head started spinning as the man removed it and proceeded to dig around in the wound with something cold and sharp, muttering to himself. "Bullets out, but I can see some metal still in there." Finally the ordeal was over and the wound bandaged. Kid flopped back onto the bunk sweaty and exhausted, feeling sick and light-headed. "Afraid you're going to have a fever."

The Kid laughed unsurprised at just how bad his luck was. "Figures!"

The doctor glanced at his face but said nothing except. "Now I need to look at your ankle too."

"It ain't bad, Doc. Think it'll be fine as it is." The Kid really wasn't sure he was up to the Doc's idea of 'looking'. "Now, son, I'm gonna finish what I came here to do. Ain't you got troubles enough without fighting someone who wants to help?"

The Kid nodded reluctantly and allowed the man access to his ankle. After about five minutes he passed out. He woke later to an empty cell in less pain, but with a fuzzy head and dry mouth that he knew signalled the beginnings of the promised fever.

XXX

It was just over two weeks when the Marshal assigned to transport him to Wyoming arrived. Everything was healing and he was able to face things standing up if he wanted to, but could rarely summon the energy to move off the bunk unless it was to relieve himself. Through half-closed eyes he listened to the conversation between the law-men as despite his fatigue he still wanted to get some idea about character of what the man escorting him and gauge how painful a trip he might be in for.

"He ain't been no trouble since he was brought in, even after his fever broke. Slept mostly. Ain't what I expected from Kid Curry."

"He's probably just biding his time til he's on the road, Sheriff. I won't let my guard down."

Kid sighed, that really didn't sound promising at all. He felt the Sheriff's gaze on him but kept his eyes closed as the men continued their conversation.

"I don't think he is Marshall. His partner didn't make it and think that took a lot of fight outta him."

"He tell you that did he?"

The Marshal's tone held amusement as a well as hint of contempt. But the Sheriff's voice held no hint of rancour as he replied evenly. "No, Marshall, I saw it myself. And you can't fake that kind of grief when you're as fevered and sick as he was."

"Well, ain't that a shame. Leastwise it means Wyoming will only get one more no good outlaw to feed and clothe instead of two."

The scorn in the man's voice broke through the Kid's exhaustion and ignited the low burning anger that had been bubbling under his fatigue ever since he'd woken. This man knew nothing about them except their reputations. Hissed angry words tumbled out in a rush." My partner's dead and I'm going away for twenty years for doing what rich folk do legally, it ain't right. We ain't even held up a train or bank in more than three years. You oughta spare some of that scorn for them that rob poor folk when they don't even need to."

The Sheriff eyed the Kid, shaking his head at him, his face crinkling in admonishment.

"Son, now don't be getting all riled with Barnes here. You and him got days of traveling ahead and it won't do you no good getting off on the wrong foot before you even start."

Kid snorted as he shook his own head in dark amusement at the comment. "Seems he's made up his mind about me already. Doubt anythin' I say is goin' to change that one way or another, but there ain't no call for him to be insulting."

Barnes also turned to glare at him, his face stony with his right hand resting on the gun he carried. "Taylor's right. We got a long trip which I can make easy or hard. Up to you how we play it."

The Kid almost smiled as he heard Heyes in his head, warning him to stop pushing because he had nothing to back it up with. Recognising that as the unwelcome truth, he held up his hands in a gesture of apology. "I won't give you no trouble." He added silently unless you give me any. The sense of bravado quickly faded at the almost overwhelming stab of pain that went through him at the renewed realisation he would only ever hear Heyes as a memory now. He was suddenly left too weary to care much about what came next and closed his eyes shutting the men out.

He could feel the men watching him but he simply turned his head away and refused to engage and after a few minutes the marshal grunted. "Well, I'll be back tomorrow. Good and early! The trip to Cheyenne might knock the rest of that attitude outta him."

The Kid nearly laughed, it wasn't him with the attitude, but deciding against getting into another argument, just kept his head turned away.

Just after the sun came up the next day,shackled and handcuffed he was hustled out of the jail towards the waiting coach which was emblazoned in US Marshal livery. The Kid's stomach lurched at the sight of it and every muscle in his legs started to scream at him to stop and almost by instinct he started to fall back and pull away from the marshal's hold. The Marshal loosened his grip and said with a malicious smile. "You're welcome to try and run, Curry, I'd be more than happy to send you to meet your partner!"

The Kid annoyed at the man's attitude squared his shoulders. He took as firm a step forward as the shackles allowed, ignoring the hammering of his heart and his suddenly wobbly legs. As the Marshal sighed in some disappointment, he took a leaf out of Heyes' book and plastered a smirk on his face that he knew would irritate the man even more. But frankly he was damned if he was going to show this man any weakness if he could help it.

The journey was spent in a distrustful silence. The Kid was sure Barnes was deliberately clicking his teeth in order to be annoying, but soon that was the least of his worries. The heat in the wagon was intense and made even worse by the fact the Kid was unable to shift position to get away from the sun blazing in. In fact restrained as he was, he couldn't even prevent the sweat from dripping into his eyes and down his back. His shirt was stuck to him and as more sweat dripped down and added to the existing stickiness, he tried using his shoulders to at least wipe his chin, but found even that was impossible.

"Stop wriggling Curry! Or you trying to overturn the coach? You won't get far son and you know how much I'd enjoy shooting you."

The Kid glared but said as politely as he could, "Marshal I ain't trying to escape, just tryin' to clear the sweat off my chin."

"Well stop it, you're making me nervous and you won't like me nervous."

The Kid bit back an automatic retort and said calmly. "Yes, Sir, I'll stop wrigglin'. Sure don't want you nervous!"

The Marshal shot him a suspicious glance but said nothing else and they lapsed back into the uncomfortable silence and the Kid was soon asleep despite his discomfort.

XXX

When the wagon finally arrived at Cheyenne, just before dusk fell, the Kid woke sluggishly as the Marshal prodded him. He opened his eyes and a wave of nausea hit him as his head began thumping so much he couldn't see straight. As the law-man pulled him up to his feet he looked at him vaguely. "Out! Quickly now. There's a hotel room waiting for me with a nice cool bath." He laughed, but the Kid feeling too fuzzy to rise to the man's taunting merely half-stumbled down the steps to stand unsteadily on the street.

Barnes took a firm hold of him and half dragged him over to the police department. He was signed over to the custody officer and taken down into the holding area. "Special treatment, Curry, get a cell all to yourself."

Despite the fuzziness in his head and the fatigue in his limbs he replied. "Well ain't I the lucky one?" which earnt him a glare and a hard shove. He was almost grateful for the gloomy chill of the cell he was placed in and lay down carefully on the bunk and was soon asleep. Sheer exhaustion overcoming whatever other emotions might have kept him awake.

He woke the next morning, light-headed with a dry mouth and still feeling dizzy. He was desperately thirsty but knew the chances of getting anything to drink was unlikely and he wasn't going to ask.

He lay back down on the bunk and drifted back into a restless sleep, tormented by repeating visions of Heyes yelling out in agony as he drowned in a fiery pit. He couldn't even try and help as he was caught in the tight grip of wet sand that was already up to his shoulders and rising. When he came awake with a start, breathless, with his heart thumping, he could taste the sand in his mouth and hear the echo of Heyes' screams in his ears.

Reluctant to sleep again he stared around the small cell and contemplated his bleak future. Twenty years, he wondered whether it might just have been better if he had died alongside Heyes. Before his thoughts could turn even more depressing the door rattling pulled his attention outward. "Hey Curry, your lawyer's here!" A young man in police uniform stood staring at him through the bars, with an older prosperous man behind him. Dressed in a set of clothes that must have cost more than just about everything the Kid and Heyes had earnt in the past year. "Wait here, Mr Simpkins, I gotta cuff him before I let you in."

Curry sighed and allowed the man to handcuff his hands, looking over at Simpkins. "Ain't sure why you're here. It's not as if I got any money."

The man smiled at that. "When I heard we'd been honoured with such a notorious prisoner, I had to come and see for myself. I was a little surprised to find you only had two hundred dollars in your pockets, but it's enough. Now we have a lot to discuss before your committal, so we better get started."

The Kid jerked in some surprise, he'd been certain the ass-hat marshal would have taken it for himself. It was unusual for him to have even that much lately, but when the posse had caught up with them, he'd not had time to split his pay from his last job with Heyes. Guilt tugged at him that he was benefiting at all from his partner's death.

The lawyer sat next to him on the narrow bunk and handed him a canteen of water which he drank so quickly it made him cough but at least it eased his headache. "I ain't sure what you can do for me, Sir. That Sheriff who led the posse knew exactly who we were. Him and his wife were passengers on some train we robbed a few years back. He even headed the damn posse!"

"Now, don't be so negative, there's usually something that can be done."

The Kid managed a smile at that, he sounded so much like Heyes, but the smile quickly faded. "If you say so, but I'm pretty sure they got me good."

"Have you heard of plea bargaining?"

He thought Heyes might have had an idea what the man was talking about, but he had no clue and shook his head. "Say what, now?"

"Plea bargaining. Means you have to admit your crimes in exchange for a lesser sentence."

The Kid snorted, "That don't make no sense! Why would admittin' doin' what they say I done, mean I get a shorter sentence? I think I just oughta take my chances with the jury." Not that he expected much, because in a town as rich as Cheyenne he'd hardly be a popular man, but he couldn't see why admitting what he'd done was going to help either.

"Now, son, think about it. I'm pretty sure I can convince the judge that eight years is time enough. One year for every year you were stealing. Saves the city the cost of a trial and reduces the risk of your gang attempting to free you."

Curry shrugged. "Ain't got no gang no more. Me and Heyes stopped outlawin' 'bout three years ago." He saw the sceptical expression on Simpkins face and sighed. "Why do you think I weren't carrying much cash? We was made a promise."

Simpkins looked at him and his face cleared, before twisting into a look of surprise. "You were hoping for amnesty? You boys?"

The Kid laughed bitterly, realising now just how unlikely that offer sounded. "I know, I realise that we were pretty stupid to believe we'd get it, but it sure seemed like the best idea for us at the time. Then bein' honest kinda got to be a habit. Never quite got used to being broke though!" The Kid took a deep breath, deciding to trust the man. It wasn't like he'd end up any worse off then he was already. "All right, you get that promise in writing and I'll do whatever you think is best. Ain't like I got any other options."

Two days later in the late afternoon, he stood shackled in front of a Judge Lawton, with Simpkins next to him. The judge was a older man whose face had such heavy lines that the Kid thought the disapproval on his face was probably a permanent expression. He shuffled uncomfortable under the man's gaze. He was sticky and dusty as he hadn't been allowed to tidy himself up at all. The man was barely hiding a sneer, but the Kid bit down on his temper as he could see the document Simpkins had told him about, on his desk already signed. "I do not approve of this new fangled legal process. I believe a man should face a jury of his peers, or perhaps in your case I should say your betters. However I have been overruled. So I am simply here to rubber stamp your ridiculously light sentence." He cleared his throat. His expression while still sour turned more formal. Curry straightened his shoulders, figuring they'd finally got to the important bit.

"Jedidiah Curry, you are accused of committing several offences, including but not restricted to property damage and bank robbery. How do you plead?"

The Kid tensed and opened his mouth to reply, but the words wouldn't come. Simpkins smiled at him reassuringly and whispered. "You have to say it or it isn't legal."

"Hurry now! How do you plead?" The slight hint of triumph on the judge's face and the way his hands edged towards the document, as if ready to rip it up, prompted the Kid to speak.

"Guilty, your honour. I plead guilty."

The judge's face dropped which gave the Kid some small satisfaction. "Very well, come up to my desk and sign, I assume you can read and write?" His tone held both contempt and disapproval, but the Kid bit down on his temper and nodded before shuffling up to the desk. The stark words of the document stared up at him. Eight years! Suppressing a shudder he carefully signed his name where Lawton indicated and then stepped back, unsure of what would happen next.