Destiny's Cycle: Five, Page | 5
"Fragile"
Stepping from the train, Heyes rubbed at the scrabble of whiskers darkening his jaw, "I can't believe we're back here."
"Could be worse."
The dimple appeared. However, the smile accompanying it was not friendly, and Heyes strode briskly across the depot platform, passing the other weary, returning travelers, he hit the station's side door with an open palm and slammed up against the red wood door.
Behind him, he heard a snorted laugh, "appears to be locked."
Turning around, he pointed a smile at Curry that was even less friendly than the earlier one, "thanks for the insight."
Shrugging, Curry jigged a thumb toward the front of the building, where most of the other passengers were milling and mewing about.
Hitching up his holster, his shoulders crowding about his ears Heyes, marched that way utterly ignoring the playful glint sparking across his partner face, which flared into a full-blown smile when they saw the shuttered windows and a sign leaning against the station house's front.
Whatever you want to ask.
We have no answer.
Come back tomorrow.
"We could stay 'till Sunday."
"We're not staying 'till Sunday. I have plans!"
Leaning closer, Curry muttered, "You could change 'em."
Heyes coolly appraised his partner, and without replying, he trotted down the steps. Only to pause at the street corner, the skin across his shoulders pulling tight as he looked east and west at the lights of Wichita. 'We shouldn't be here. Can't put it into words for Kid; just know we shouldn't be here.'
"Let's get a room, a bath, and see about dinner."
Exhaling heavily, knowing there was no other option, Heyes fell into step behind his partner, their boots clumping hollowly along the boardwalk as they headed for the Delano district.
By the time they exited the Drover Hotel's dining room, the carnival that was Wichita's night was in full swing with brass bands were competitively whooping it up, hollering hack drivers, sideshow blowhards barking for attention, dogs yipping, and of course, all the saloon doors were braced open with gaily attired prairie nymphs dangling from their porches. Over all the chaos was the jangle of piano playing and the constant call of Keno numbers issuing from the gambling dens.
The bath, fresh clothes, and full stomach had mollified Heyes some, and now, strolling amidst Wichitans, Texas cowboys, Mexican ranchman, Union soldiers, and even a few blanket wrapped Indians, he found his self enjoying the sights and sounds of the wild debauchery.
As they edged down a full portion of the boardwalk, a peacock green gloved hand landed upon Curry's shoulder, calling, "Why, Sugar, holds up."
Curry turned to a well-rouged blonde, batting her eyes at him, thinking, 'not on my life, you're old enough to be my Mother.' But, keeping his thoughts to himself, he merely touched a finger to his hat brim and kept moving.
"Now, don't be that way, Sugar. I could share secrets with you, you ain't never thought of."
At this, Heyes half-turned flashing his dimpled smile, and a laugh.
"Well, my, my, my, that offer goes double for you, Darling." She chortled, opening her wrapper, revealing ample, milky white breasts.
Swallowing hard, Heyes hastened his step, following his partner as he ducked around the corner.
A few doors down, they stepped into a brightly lit dance hall, and Curry elbowed Heyes, pointing to the bartender. "Look, its Joe from the Dove race."
"You can't seem to get them races off your mind," Heyes said, looking his pal straight in the face. "Can you?"
"Well, when will we ever see something like that again?"
"I agree, Kid. But there is more to life than carnal delights."
Curry's brows bunched tight, "what?!"
Heyes' smile expanded.
"There are times, Heyes, I feel like flattening you, for no other reason than it would feel good."
Leaning closer, Heyes' expression carried a distinct twist of mischief, "Is that so?"
"Yeah, but I tell myself it'd just make you harder to live with."
The smile broke into a laugh, "Yes. Yes, it would at that." Laughing more, he threw an arm about Curry's shoulders, "come on, let me buy you a drink, maybe more."
They were on their third beers, backs against the gleaming mahogany bar watching the high kicking gals on stage, faro dealers running games, with all of it keeping time to the clatter of the Keno tumblers, whirling wheel of fortune, and the steady patter of the poker tables.
"Know what, Heyes?"
"Hum."
"You were right about one thing-"
Heyes turned unblinking eyes on his pal, "only one?"
Curry quirked him a grin, "Wichita is a lively place."
No sooner were these words out of his mouth than the roar of a gun blasted through the room. A cancan gal screamed, and clutching her middle she collapsed to the floor, with her tiered multi-colored skirt spraying out like a wilted flower.
A sudden silence filled the frozen room, then the big-bore rifle, Joe had snagged from under the bar, erupted like a cannon.
Near the front doors, a large man with long, curly red hair, and an astoundingly long beard staggered, and Rowdy Joe's place turned into the Battle of Gettysburg. Blue cordite smoke filling every nook and cranny to roll into the street through the front doors and shattered windows when as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Amazed, he had not caught any lead, Curry looked to his partner, who like himself, had his pistol in his hand. Although Heyes' left hand still grasped what remained of his beer mug, and seeing this, Curry's eyes opened wider. "Damn, that was close."
Heyes looked to where Curry was pointing, and inhaling sharp, he released his hold on the jagged, glass handle. "Let's get out of here before the law shows up."
This appeared to be the mindset of most everyone, for there was a bustling, groaning herd shoving their ways through the front doors. Seeing others escaping through the shattered windowpanes, Curry and Heyes followed their lead, rushing down the street away from Joe's.
The night air felt fresh and clean after the smoke-filled heat of the saloon, and when they stopped, Heyes grabbed Curry by the shoulders, exclaiming, "You ever think how fragile life is, Kid?"
"Not really," Kid replied.
"Like what if that bullet had found me instead of my mug?"
Curry frowned, sure right down to his bones, this was not a conversation he wanted to have.
"Hey, Old Man!"
Curry jerked free, spinning and standing not ten feet away was Billie, a Colt hanging from his narrow hips, and Curry's pupils shrank, the muscles about his blue eyes tightening.
"Been keepin' an eye out for ya, Old Man."
"Well, here, I am."
"Kid, no!"
The words, "back off," emerged from Curry's throat as a deep growl, for the gunfighter side of him knew this was it. There would be no false start this time; Billie had hunted him down for a purpose.
Then Billie's cheek twitched, as did his hand.
Curry did not feel himself go for his revolver; there were too many hours of practice behind the move. Drawing had become a part of him, no different from taking a stride. All he knew was, yet again, he had won the race. Not that he was thinking that, at the moment, those thoughts always came later, followed by the knowledge that one day, he would not win the race.
As Billie jerked back, an errant dart of flame blossomed from his pistol, even as he drifted to the ground.
Stalking forward, Curry noted his shot had destroyed the boy's shoulder and retrieving the large Navy revolver from Billie's outflung hand, he stuck it in his waistband.
Several of Billy's pals came rushing up.
Swinging, Curry leveled on them, and their hands flew up, all of them yipping, how they did not want any trouble.
"Then, get him to a Doc before he bleeds to death."
Furtively, they gathered up Billie, shuffling on down the street.
Once they were well on their way, Curry refilled his empty chamber, and holstered his Colt, raising his eyes to his own pal.
Heyes was tottering in the street like a child, then he released a convulsive gasp his hand slipping from his chest, it revealed a scarlet stain spreading across his shirtfront.
All sound and movement disappeared for Curry as absolutely everything in him centered on his partner. Then a gasp, nearly as loud as Heyes escaped him because as Heyes began to fall, he felt the rope that connected them pull taunt, near to breaking. And, he knew Heyes had been correct; life was fragile.