July 20, 1889 (Wednesday)

Kid was awakened by the drops of cold water that Heyes was dripping on his face.

"What the hell are you doing," he grumbled and, turning his head and quickly discovered he had a worse hang-over than he cared to admit.

"Come on, Kid. We have to be back at the Regency in an hour. That will give us enough time to get cleaned up for the photographers.

"Aw, ain't there anyway to get out of this?"

"Just remember, it's only four more days till amnesty."

"If I last that long."

Arriving back at the Regency, they tried to quickly make their way to the stairs so as to avoid any photographers arriving early to set up their equipment. But the desk clerk saw them come in.

"Oh, Mr. Heyes, Mr. Curry, there are several telegrams here for you"

They looked at each other and sighed. Kid waited at the stairs while Heyes retrieved the half dozen or so telegrams.

"Come on, we can look at them upstairs while we're getting ready."

The telegrams were all RSVP responses of to the invitations the Governor's office had sent out from the list of people they had provided. Most were arriving Saturday and the Governor had freed their Saturday afternoon schedule to allow them time to meet the trains and spend time with those close to them.

"Clem's arriving tomorrow, Heyes. Maybe we can weasel our way out of something to pick her up at the depot," Kid said hopefully.

"You know, Kid, when you're old and gray, and can't see worth a darn or hear the clock chime, and you can't get around easy, and nothing else to look at but me, you're gonna be glad you have memories of this week, of getting the amnesty."

"Heyes, when I'm old and blind and deaf and can't get around, what memories I got left had better be blonde, brunette, or redhead, something that gets me stirred, not some stupid piece pf paper that I spent five years of my life risking life and limb for."

"You'd rather remember a twenty minute memory than a week long one?"

"Given my druthers, I'd find a way to stretch that twenty minute memory into a week long one. I could die a happy man doing that."

"Alright Kid, I give up. You want to come up with excuses to get out of these events, you go right ahead and do it. But I feel like I worked hard for this amnesty and I'm going to enjoy every miserable moment of this week, cause I want to have those memories when I'm old."

Kid broke into a broad grin. "Every miserable moment, Heyes?"

Realizing what he had said, Heyes couldn't help but smile. "I guess my silver tongue kind of escaped me there, Kid."

"Uh-uh. Aw Heyes, I don't want to add to your misery. I just don't want to add to my own either."

"It's alright, Kid. I understand. If you want to make excuses to bow out of some of these things, I won't try to goad you into doing em. Now, you going down to the photographers?"

"I am, Heyes, cause I think that's a very useful and practical event to attend."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, with so many pictures of us floating around, there ain't no way we could ever backslide into a life of crime," Kid said, breaking into another wide grin.

Heyes laughed out loud.

"You certainly have a unique way of putting things into perspective, Kid."

They met Lom in the Lobby and endured the two hours with the photographers.

Late that afternoon. Tim drove them to the Governor's Mansion for the single event that Heyes was truly excited about, other than the amnesty ceremony, of course.

There were half a dozen locally known authors as well as four more renowned ones. Heyes politely spoke with each of them and Kid, not being much of a reader, stayed very close to his partner who fielded questions for him. Heyes saved Mr. Twain for last, wanting to spend as much time as possible with the man whose writing he so respected and treasured.

"Mr. Twain, it is such a great honor to meet you, Sir," Heyes said, extending his hand and engaging in a warm handshake.

"Ah, Mr. Heyes, I've read a scant amount about you over the years, mostly during my reporting years," Twain said.

"Well, sir, I've read far more than a scant of your writing and might I say I admire your writing very much."

"Well thank you Mr. Heyes. I hope I have both entertained and enlightened you trough my stories."

Kid cleared his voice noticeably.

"Oh, might I introduce my partner..."

"Kid Curry," Twain exclaimed. "Of you, sir, I have read considerably more."

"Oh, well... Thank you, sir," Kid said nervously. "I've only read Tom Sawyer of your books, but Heyes has read lots of your other ones to me. It helps when I can't fall asleep."

Twain was visible amused and Heyes was visibly embarrassed. "Perhaps I shall try that sleep aid myself," Twain said

Kid smiled proudly and looked at Heyes. "Could I ask you something, sir?"

"Of course Mr. Curry, What is it?"

"Well Heyes and me spent five years using an alias," Kid began and, knowing where this was going, Heyes rolled his eyes. This was not the conversation he had hoped for.

"Mark Twain is an alias too, ain't it?" Kid asked.

Twain could not contain a smile. "It is, Mr. Curry. My real name is Samuel Clemens."

"Thought so," Kid exclaimed proudly, but caught the scornful look in Heyes' eyes. "Well, I think I'll go get another brandy. Can I interest either of you?"

"None for me, Kid."

'No, thank you though. It's been a pleasure talking to you Mr. Curry."

"Oh you too, Sir and keep writing. I like listening to your stories."

Heyes couldn't help but utter a sigh of relief when Kid walked away, and he quite happily spent the next half hour engaging in a private conversation with the man he so admired."

Heyes honestly hated to see this single event end and he knew that while the events of the week would likely all eventually blend into a blur, this single event, along with receiving the amnesty papers, would always remain very clear in his memory.