Destiny's Cycle: ONE, Page | 4
"False Start"
Curry glided across the room, passing without a sound, not even his boot heels making staccato echoes on the battered wood floor; he appeared unaware of all about him, when in reality, his blue eyes, beneath his low pulled hat were everything occurring.
Sliding into the chair, next to his partner, he thought, 'Something's fixin' to happen. I can feel it.' Exhaling slowly, he worked at getting his taut nerves to loosen. Exhaling once more, he slid his gaze to Heyes', who was shuffling one-handed, with a grin that extolled he was shining on the other players.
The cards were slipping, rolling together as smoothly as the wheels of a chugging steam engine. Curry's eyes followed the cards, listening to the room, not hearing a word coming from his partner. Then the hair on the back of his neck stood up thick and stiff, and he thought, 'It's here.'
He did not need to search for the trouble, he knew it was there. Knew he was right, for being a gunslinger, this many years, had taught him a singular skill. One that kept not only himself alive, but Heyes too, and that was his keen senses. He had learned to rely on them, even when his partner teased him about being overcautious, to depend on them even if all seemed normal, to just simply trust them no matter what.
Scanning the room, he kicked up from his chair, snagging hold of Heyes' shoulder. Anyone observing, would think him over sauced on red-eye and needing extra leverage to stand. However, that was far from the truth, he had bolted to his feet, ready for action. Still, others did not need to know this, this was a trick Heyes had taught him, sometimes, feigning weakness will draw an opponent out, garnering you the upper hand.
As he stood there, Curry dug his fingers deeper into the muscles of Heyes' shoulder, pulling his partner's concentration from the game.
Which needed to be done, for Curry could feel danger about them, and there was not a member of the Devil's Hole Gang, who did not know how lost their leader became in the details of a poker game. There were many times, Curry had chided Heyes that poker was going to be his undoing, one day. Furthermore, it was precisely the reason Curry preferred to not leave Heyes unattended whenever he bellied up to a green top. But, right now, this moment, he needed Heyes mentally with him.
At the pinching jolt of pain that shot across his shoulder, Heyes' mouth dry. Yet, he only allowed his dark eyes to casually drift from the pasteboards to survey the room. When he did, his brows dropped, the smallest bit, 'Don't see what has him out of sorts. No law dogs, or owl hoots to speak of." He glanced up at his friend, 'What has his hackles up?' As he looked back to the table, he caught a movement, and his eyes locked on a rowdy, still a good way off, but even so, Heyes could read that he was working up to aim his courage Curry's direction.
Shrugging Curry's hand from his shoulder, he shifted to look up into his face, needing to read what Curry was considering.
That was when the rowdy tossed his head, so his thick blonde, soaplock swung out of his eyes, as he barked, "Hey, you!"
Stepping forward, he also revealed himself to be too young to correctly carry the title of man. Nevertheless, his snarling challenge yanked the heads of every tainted soul filling the room to him, and silence fell upon the crowd, like frogs circling up to an alkali pool.
Heyes' kept a close watch on his partner for a clue as to how bad this situation was likely to turn; and, when he saw the laughing Kid, he knew and loved so much, switch to the hardened gunslinger, Kid Curry; Heyes' tightened into a flat line. It all happened fast, maybe even as fast as Curry could draw, but his gentle side was stored away before the word 'you' had become part of the full room.
"Is you Kid Curry?"
Curry's icy eyes took in every inch of his challenger, which was not much as he was so thin, he barely cast a shadow. When he was done, he softly growled, "What's it to you?"
Licking his lips, the rowdy said, "Well…" Pausing, he licked his lips a second time, "I just… just…" Beads of sweat appeared on his smooth, upper lip, his breathing coming in short, huffing pants.
When from the side corner, one of the rowdy's pals, hollered, "Come on, Billie, bullypuss up and tell 'em what ya told all of 'n us."
Curry's eyes narrowed; he never cared for those who taunted from a safe distance. They were a skunk stripe who often proved themselves a site more dangerous than those who would face you. Raising his chin, Curry darkly asked, "What have you been saying?"
"They all think you are Kid Curry; they also say I'm fast enough to take you," Billie answered.
Curry frowned.
"Doesn't matter, 'cause I told 'em all I had seen Kid Curry over in Council Grove, and you ain't really him."
"That so?"
Billie glanced toward his friends then back to Curry, "Told 'em, yuse too old to be Curry."
A snort, that he knew he would pay for later, erupted from Heyes, and with a grin, he went ahead a chuckled, thinking, 'Boy has to be touched in the head. Up, hassling Kid, so he is ready to strike like a stepped on a rattle, only to inform 'em, he is too old to be the real Kid Curry.'
Shifting his boot heels, Curry straightened into a more solid version of his gunfighter stance; and when he spoke, his tone carried years of experience, "if you know, I am not him… why in the hell are you pestering me?"
"Well…" Billie swallowed, then puffed up his chest, squaring his shoulders, "Cause, once I walked out here, I up and decided, you might do as well as Kid Curry."
Curry's nostrils flared, he knew, everybody in the place was looking them both over, a fact he did not much appreciate. He also knew Billie was tottering on the edge of walking away or drawing. Figuring to spook the boy, he replied in a tone so cold the words could almost be seen floating across the room. "Go back to your friends, Boy, I'm tired of your damn foolishness!"
Inwardly, Heyes groaned, and with a sigh, he admired the three pretty ladies in his poker hand, then laid them face down, slipping his hand, under the table to unhitch the safety tie on his holster.
Around the saloon, cackled chuckles answered Curry's remark, and Billie's own pals brayed with laughter.
"I bet you are tired, old as you is and all." Billie ground out between his gritted teeth, his shoulders rose a bit, "Hell, not only is you tired, I'd lay down coin you're scared, too. Scared like old men who hide behind their locked doors. Well, I'm tellin' you, you don't scare me none, not a bit."
The skin about Curry's eyes tightened, his blood pumping faster, "damnation, here it is again, another round of big dog, little dog, that is only going to leave me with more blood on my hands, and this boy can't be more than maybe sixteen.' Grinding his molars, Curry held his hard face, 'damnation, but does have me a bit spooked, ain't for what he's thinking though, but because he's like looking, years back, in a mirror.' While considering all this, Curry had not responded, and as the air grew thicker, all eyes in the room turned his way wanting him to react.
"HA! Knew you weren't Kid Curry." A belligerent laugh rolled from Billie, "Ain't anyway, Kid Curry would of stood for being prodded."
'This needs to be shut down, there is little in this world more dangerous than a bum kid itching to prove they are a man.' Heyes thought, and shaking his head, he moved to shove his chair back.
Low enough, only Heyes and those closest to him heard, Curry said, "Stay where you are, this ain't over." Then with an uncaring air, he folded his arms across his chest, his eyes never leaving Billie.
"Fact is old man; I've concluded you ought to just tuck your tail and clear out of here."
"You've had your say, Billie, even a bit of fun. Now go on back to your pals."
Billie smiled brashly, becoming braver. "You are the only one movin' old man, just trot yourself right out of here, right now."
"That isn't happening, and I suggest you take yourself back over to your pals, while all your blood is still pumping around inside you."
At Curry's ultimatum, Heyes' heart began hitting the inside of his chest like discharged cartridges from a Gatling gun. Of all the aftereffects their misspent youth had created, the one he regretted and loathed most were these repeated attempts to start his cousin on the road to see their families, without him. What's more, every time one arose, it felt like he was too late to the starting gate, leaving him with no way to change the outcome, or more importantly, protect Kid.
"You think I'm some yella dog, who back down when you snarl old man. Well, I ain't," Billie hollered back, tossing his hair from his eyes and hunching a bit as if he were fixing to make a play for his revolver.
Kid Curry did not shift, not even to unfold his arms. 'He isn't quite ready," He thought, reading the boy, 'He'll push it a bit more before he draws.' He took a steadying, shallow breath, "I can recall when this building pressure would have my blood boiling for the fight. Funny that I don't feel the excitement I used to.' Then the barest hint of a grin curled the corner of his lip, 'hell, maybe, I am getting old. Used to be, starting back in those days when Heyes and I were apart, that I let my temper rule me. I lived by it and my Colt. But, it's those days that have turned me into bait for the big dog, little dog game, and I am so weary of the whole game.' With his newfound realization, Curry hollered, "To hell with this game you up and started, take your life and go, Billie!"
Turning his head slightly, Billie studied Curry from the slant of his eyes, and then his lip raised into a snarl. "YOU obviously ain't Kid Curry, but some drifter who wears his rig like he knows the dance. Bet the only dance you know is when someone is firing at your feet. So, unless you want me to start you dancin', then you best skedaddle out of here….and I mean NOW!"