Heyes was back in Porterville, because Lom had sent a telegram informing him that there was a letter waiting for him. Pacing his hotel room he was struggling to get past the painful memory of the Kid looking so frail, which was leaving him frustrated. He knew instead of letting the memory eat at him, he should be thinking of a solution that would get them out of the mess they were in.

A firm knock pulled him out of his thoughts and he flung open the room door. Without even bothering to say a word he grabbed the paper that was peeking out of Lom's jacket pocket and turned back into the room. With a feeling of relief he saw that the writing on the document he was holding was nearly as familiar as his own. He had to stop himself from ripping the envelope open and forced himself to instead carefully break the seal. He had no wish to risk tearing the precious contents. He started reading, paying no mind to Lom's slightly startled expression and uncaring whether he stayed or left.

I wish I had somethin' good or even vaguely interesting to tell you, but I ain't got nothing. My cellmate died from what was likely a bad case of grippe or mebbe even pneumonia so I ain't feeling my best.

He'd been coughing for weeks and no-one cared 'cept me. He died while I was sleeping, just like Seth. I was right there in the cell when he went and he might as well have died alone 'cos I weren't no help. I never did know what had brought him to prison, ain't like it mattered anyways. He was a sweet old man, Joshua and we helped each other best we could.

It's real quiet in my cell now. Not that we could talk or nothin', but he was still company. Now Jake's gone, the silence is 'bout unbearable and it weren't easy before. I miss listenin' to your schemin' in the middle of the night and even miss you bein' insultin'. To be honest Joshua, I just miss you period. It's like no-one sees me no more.

I got nothin' much else to say, ain't like my life's exactly full. But leastwise I ain't found no more trouble lately. I gotta count my blessings so they keep tellin' me.

After he finished reading Heyes sat heavily onto the bed behind him. He became aware that Lom was watching him and looked up. Unmoved by the expression of concern on the man's face he glared at him. It was far too late for that kind of look to be convincing. Swallowing hard against both anger and pain he as calmly as he could. "You read it, Lom?"

Trevors shook his head, his brow creased. "Didn't seem like it was my business to"

Yeah of course, thought Heyes angrily, bet it's more like you don't wanna find out the real consequences of your stupid ass deal. He didn't voice his thoughts, not wanting to lose his composure entirely and said carefully, trying to keep the snap out of his voice. "Well you oughta." He angrily thrust the letter at his old acquaintance who took it with some reluctance. "He don't belong in there, Lom. You know it as well as me. We'd been keeping straight for years, it just ain't right."

The starkness of the letter had struck Heyes hard, the pain bleeding out of every word leaving him angry and more than a little desperate. If Kid did by some miracle survive eight years in that place, he'd not be the same man he'd been before going in, that much was clear. The thought of losing his best friend, the only person he truly trusted scared Heyes in a way nothing ever had before.

Heyes was drawn back to Laramie as if pulled by an invisible string. He decided to use a different alias, unwilling to risk someone from the prison putting two and two together and he was no longer overly concerned with what Lom or the Governor wanted from him.

Jobs were in pretty good supply in the town as more than one railroad company had set up shop, bringing with them people and a demand for services.

He took a walk round the town as dusk fell, looking for danger to avoid during his stay, because he had no intention of leaving without Kid by his side.

On the way back to his hotel he noticed a 'Pit Boss required' in the window of one of the higher end drinking and gambling establishments. He decided it was as good a place as any to look for a job.

Early the next morning, he asked about the job and was shown into a plush office. He was greeted by a well-dressed man with a sceptical expression and a look of distaste. Obviously unimpressed by Heyes' dusty and trail worn clothes, but Heyes used to that expression by now, simply smiled broadly and started his pitch. "I know it's hard to credit from my appearance, but I'm real good at spotting most of the tricks cheaters pull, even the good and sneaky ones. I can sort any trouble out nice and smooth without ruffling too many fancy feathers."

Looking unimpressed at his claims, the man who Heyes figured was either the owner or manager, replied his tone disbelieving. "That's a real easy claim to make Rembacker, but I'd like to see you back it up before I take a risk on you. We get a lot of well-heeled folk in here and I don't want them to have cause to complain or my business won't last long. There's plenty folk needing work and they got endorsements, so I got no need to just take their word for it."

Heyes returned to the saloon that evening and quickly got his chance to show just how good he was. The table he was playing at threatened to get heated as one of the men was getting angry at how much he was losing. Heyes knew it'd been a clean game and managed to convince everyone else of the same. Once he calmed everyone down without a gun being drawn he even persuaded the men to join him in a drink.

He ordered a bottle of whiskey and five glasses and the barman smiled at him "Mr Jacks wants to see you in the morning. 10am. He was real impressed with how you handled those cowboys." Heyes grinned returned to the game drinks in hand and next morning duly presented himself at the office pleased to see the look of respect on the man's face as he said. "Having watched how easy you handled that situation last night, I think I'd be foolish not to offer you a job. You can start tomorrow."

A few days later as Heyes stood surveying the room for trouble, he noticed two very expensively dressed men in the corner nearest the back. There was something about one of them that seemed vaguely familiar but nothing was coming to him. They were deep in conversation their heads close together. The barman saw him looking over at them and smiled slightly. "Can't see them being no trouble. The one on the left is the warden up at the prison and him on the right is Vernon Masters, got interests in just about every business from here to Denver."

Heyes suddenly realised why Manley looked familiar, he'd delivered some fancy brandy to his office in the week he'd spent working at the prison. He turned to the barman with a smile and said. "Well, Bill, think it's time I took a walk round, check out if there's any trouble I've missed."

"What about Rollins?"

"He hasn't got long enough left to serve so won't fetch enough to make it worth the risk. I'm thinking prisoner 83, Kid Curry, is a good option for us. His sentence is plenty long. I thought maybe his reputation and that temper might've caused us problems, but he's been real cooperative lately."

"Yeah, that beating sounded like it sure took it out of him. I've got to say Albert, allowing him those letters was genius."

"I thought me pretending I was all reluctant to let him have them was a clever trick too. One thing I've learnt doing this job is you've got to bring the tough ones down hard, then when they're at rock bottom, give them something that feels like a kindness. He's good and housebroken now and doesn't even realise it."

Heyes felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as they both laughed, before they got back to business. "Best to get him out in case him not being contrary isn't permanent, or in case he gets sick. They cost too much when they're sick."

Heyes furious was unable to prevent his hand tightening on his gun. The casual arrogance of the men was staggering and he started to step towards them with his jaw clenched. He was very close to doing something foolish, like drawing his gun on them, when a yell from behind him caught his attention as something heavy crashed to the floor. "Rembacker get over here!"

He was soon swept up in preventing a fight from getting out of hand and by the time he'd talked everyone down and restored some calm, the two men were gone. Heyes was disappointed at first before thinking wryly perhaps it was a good thing. He had been a minute away from blowing everything, which really wouldn't have helped Kid.

Just after the last of the customers had left, Heyes stood at the bar nursing a well earned drink, watching some of the saloon girls clear the glasses and other debris from the tables and floor. After a few moments he turned to look at Bill and asked as casually as he could. "Manley and Masters in here often?"

The barman glanced at him, a little puzzled by his question but nonetheless answered easily enough. "Most every Saturday. Expect they'll be in Tuesday too, when there's that big game upstairs." He caught the look of interest on Heyes' face and shook his head with a smile. " I know you figure you're plenty good, but they're real picky about who they let in and you gotta have at least fifteen grand to get a look in. Ain't expectin' you could manage to raise that, less you decide to rob the bank. No offence meant, but you don't look exactly flush."

Heyes grinned at the man as he thought briefly that robbing a bank might not be such a bad thing, before shrugging the thought away as foolish and saying. "Ain't none taken, wonder if I can convince 'em to play with us poor folk as well."

Bill laughed. "Well, you wouldn't be the first to try..."