"Well prisoner! It's past time you stopped lolly-gagging and got back to where you belong. Jenkins is coming to escort you back to your cell. You aren't back to work 'til tomorrow. Seems like mollycoddling to me, but I don't make the rules."

The Kid wasn't sure quite how he felt about the news. His vision was back to normal, but he still ached from head to foot and struggled to stay awake for any length of time. Concentration was difficult and thoughts seemed to dance away from him whenever he tried to grasp them.

The Kid hoped the latter was simply the result of the laudanum the doctor had made him take. He was convinced that Fletcher's insistence on it had been a way to ensure he was quiet rather then out of any real concern. Despite this belief he'd been unable to stop the man forcing it down his throat at regular intervals.

When Jenkins arrived, the doctor released his left arm from the bed and watched as his hands and feet was re-shackled.

As the Kid was led through the prison to his block, his legs wouldn't go the way he needed or expected them to. As a result he stumbled several times and without Jenkins steadying arm would have fallen more than once.

By the time he arrived back at his cell, the Kid was covered in a light sheen of sweat and exhausted. He lay down heavily on his bunk and was asleep before the door was even locked.

He didn't wake until Jake and the other prisoners returned. His cellmate managed a small smile when he saw him on the bunk, but it was obvious to the Kid that he was ill. He shouldn't even have been out of bed, let alone working. He was a dreadful grey colour his chest gurgled on every painful breath and his hands shook.

The Kid tried to provide what comfort he could, making sure Jake was propped up and tried to stay awake. At least then, the man didn't have to suffer alone, but lingering exhaustion coupled with the remnants of the drugs in his system, meant he was soon dragged down into sleep. Jake was no better the next morning and struggled to stand when they were woken in the usual manner.

At breakfast Jake could barely lift his spoon to eat and spent most of his time making circles in the oatmeal rather than eating it. The Kid not wanting him to be punished for leaving food, put the foul slop onto his own plate. He managed to finish it all, despite still feeling nauseas after Fletcher's forced medicating. Out in the courtyard about half an hour later he threw most of it back up, but as no-one was looking he escaped punishment.

In the week that followed the Kid repeatedly tried to draw attention to the severity of his cellmates illness with no success

"He's just got a bad cold, 83. Stop ya fussing or I'll make sure you regret it."

"We ain't interested, he'll be fine in a few days."

"He gets likes this most every year. Always comes out of it, ain't no need to bother us."

Jenkins had been rotated to a different block and work detail to the Kid, so there was no-one around that cared enough to pay attention. He was reluctant to push too much. He didn't want to annoy the guards enough that he ended up in solitary leaving Jake alone.

His concentration had improved enough that when he was allowed, he managed to write a letter to Heyes, but it took him far longer than it should have to compose something he was happy with. His fingers ached and he looked at the writing critically. Heyes would likely worry about the shakiness, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Two weeks after his release from the infirmary, sometime late into the night the Kid fell asleep listening anxiously as usual to the sound of Jake painful coughing. When he woke the next morning, bleary eyed and still far too tired, the cell was silent and he thought for a moment that Jake had finally managed to sleep comfortably. But then he was struck by the fact that he could hear nothing other than his own breathing. He knew even before he'd scrambled down to look, that his cellmate was past helping. He gently closed Jake's eyes before hammering on the bars, unheeding of the consequences. He was pushed back against the wall when the guards rushed into the cell, to see why he was causing a commotion

XXX

Soapy lent Heyes the money to get an invite into one of the higher stake games and it took him little time to win enough to pay Saunders back. His winnings were such that even after repaying Saunders, he still had enough to live on for at least a couple of months.

Three days later Heyes was readying himself to head back to Wyoming. He'd have set off earlier, but there was only one train a week to Laramie, which was the only place Heyes was interested in going.

"Heyes..."

"Don't worry, Soapy, I got no plans to dynamite the prison and break him out. I know as well as you, if I do that, our lives won't be worth a plugged nickel." No-one but him needed to know that he'd actually briefly considered that as an option back when he'd first found out what had happened. Calmer heads indeed. Kid would really have figured he'd been out in the sun too long without his hat with that little plan.

"We ain't got no jobs going. So just git will ya!"

Heyes sighed heavily and beat a hasty retreat. He was still determined to find a way of accessing the prison, but didn't think rolling up as a visitor even heavily disguised was an option. He didn't want to risk being recognised and caught himself or put Kid into a difficult position.

"I should report you to my boss. Don't seem real normal what you're asking."

Heyes had chosen to approach Haines, for several reasons. Not least because they were of similar age, colouring, weight and height. Another attraction was that he was always short of money, because despite being a very poor poker player he enjoyed gambling, always convinced he'd win the next hand. Added to this, he had no real friends, lived alone and avoided talking to his co-workers at all costs. A perfect choice for what Heyes needed.

"I got two hundred dollars here that says you won't. I'm not planning on making trouble I just want to lay low for a week or so. When I'm done you just go back to your life and no one will be any the wiser."

The man still looked suspicious, but Heyes knew that two hundred dollars was a powerful incentive to look the other way. "A week you say?"

"Two at most. I'll just come on by and let you know when I'm moving on."

Five days later, Heyes was setting the last boxes of the day down in the prison kitchen. He was just about to leave, resigning himself to another long and boring day tomorrow, when a guard entered carrying a broom. He was leading a shackled prisoner who shuffled slowly as if in pain. Heyes knew instantly just who it was even before the guards words confirmed it. "Here, 83, take this and go sweep in that corner 'till it's good and clean. Better be quick now or you'll miss evening meal. Such as it is." He laughed as he shoved the broom into Kid's hand and pushed him firmly forward causing him to overbalance a little. Heyes felt a pain settle in his chest at the sight of his partner doing exactly what he was told without resistance. He was far too thin and much too subdued. Instinctively Heyes started to move forward to meet him and it took a huge amount of effort to stay where he was.

Kid started sweeping, but after a few moments seemingly aware of the scrutiny, looked up and over towards where Heyes hid in shadow. He squinted and for a brief moment his face froze in shock, before the tiniest of smiles crossed his lips. The moment passed quickly as the guard looked over and Kid returned to his task. Heyes couldn't be sure and was aware it could simply have been wishful thinking on his part. But he thought maybe there was an almost imperceptible straightening in his friend's shoulders as he continued tidying the floor.

As Heyes exited the kitchen and walked towards the waiting wagon, the image of his partner was hard to shake. It was shocking that eight months in prison had left that much of a mark on him. The changes so obvious in the Kid, had of course only strengthened his resolve to find a way of getting him out as soon as possible.