Destiny's Cycle: Seven, Page | 5

"Wrong Envelope"

Waking Heyes glanced about the room, his angled face tight and pale from the endless weeks of healing. Rolling from the bed, he hobbled to the window to stare for a time at the nightly carnival of decadence, kicking up on the streets of Delano.

As he leaned against the frame, he thought, 'I'm ready to travel,' with this thought his fingertips ran over the round scar in his chest, then turning back to the room, he lit the lamp, and returned to bed. 'Wonder when Kid will return," the corner of his mouth turned down. Then with a shrug, he picked up his book, disappearing inside. Sometime later, a part of him heard the key in the lock, and knowing who it was, he kept reading.

Entering with a sandwich wrapped in butcher paper and a large, speckled blue metal cup of coffee, Curry strode across the room wearing a jubilant smile, "you ready to travel?"

Heyes barely glanced up, but the arched eyebrow spoke volumes to anyone who knew him.

"I'm not ribbing you, Heyes."

Dryly Heyes asked, "Why did you come into a windfall? Or, maybe you robbed one of the four banks while you were out."

Irritation simmered in Curry's blue eyes. "No," he responded, setting the coffee and sandwich on the table by Heyes. "Swear every time I read that book's name, my stomach clenches. Why would you read such a thing?"

Marking his page, Heyes turned the book so he could read the cover, Crime and Punishment, he shrugged, setting it aside, saying, "It would be interesting to know what men are most afraid of."

"And, I would find it more interesting if you'd break off quoting that book to me."

The dimpled grin, finally, appeared. "So tell me, how have you determined we are to escape Wichita? I am ready to travel, but don't think I'm stout enough to add horse thief to my punishment list."

Glancing to the thick book lying on the calico bedspread, Curry rolled his eyes. However, his good humor returned with a full, boyish smile, and with showmanship flare, he removed an envelope from the interior pocket of his vest. "We are fixing to make Wichita a part of our past," he boasted, tossing the envelope to Heyes. "Not only did I get paid for the loading Chisholm's mule train, but the head driver threw in a pair of train tickets to Denver for my exemplary work."

Hannibal Heyes' released a hoot of joy, tearing the envelope open. Except when he looked inside, a deep crease appeared between his brows.

Having bent to undo his holster's tie-down strap, Curry did not see his partner's reaction.

Pulling a letter out, Heyes' eyes narrowed as he scanned the elegant penmanship, his nose wrinkled tightly, and he looked again in the envelope.

Having hung his holster the chair next to his bed, Curry shucked off his shirt, heading for the washbasin.

Releasing a throaty cough, Heyes dropped into a smooth orator's voice: "My dearest, I am not sure if this will reach you, as I have mailed several letters to the address you provided, and hitherto I have not received a reply. Still, I shall endeavor, for I miss you so greatly that I ache. I fathom we were together for such a sweet, heady amount of time, yet in those heady, few days, you carved your name upon my heart. Your tender, gentle ways, despite all you have seen, and worse, endured; continues to astound me. How can you be so resilient? So kind? I am sure you will think me foolish; however, I retain the lock of hair you allowed me to cut. I keep it pressed in the pages of a book, so no one will see it except me. If only I could gaze again into your lovely blue eyes….my dearest, please write if you can. Even a roughly torn, scrap of paper with your name upon it would mean the world to me. I remain yours forever…."

Rubbing a towel through his wet curls, Curry laughed, "didn't figure that book you're reading was a love story." An oily grin emerged, "wait 'till I tell the boys what you like reading." Tossing the towel across the footboard of his bed, he took a seat, jerking at his boot. "Humpf, learn something new every day."

"Why, yes, you do." Heyes tilted his head, quirking out a lopsided grin. "Did you ever send her a scrap of paper with your dear name on it?"

"What?" Curry grunted, pulling off the second boot.

"When, and exactly where was this short…" Heyes glanced at the paper in his hand, "oh, yes, heady time?"

Straightening, Curry asked, "What are you going on about?" Standing, he scrunched his face at his partner, unbuttoning his dirty, faded brown pants.

"This, my dearest…" Heyes shook the letter, "sure don't look like train tickets."

What was happening finally struck home, and leaping across the room, Curry snatched up the envelope, looking inside, just as Heyes had already done, earlier. "This ain't right?!"

"You can sure say that again, and you're supposed to be so kind, and here you're yanking' me about with the temptations of leaving. Meanwhile, you've gone and broken this poor gal's heart."

Seizing the letter, Curry's eyes scrolled over it.

In a tone dripping with acid sarcasm, Heyes asked, "What? You think I skipped reading any part of it to you?"

"This isn't my letter."

"Sure, blue eyes."

"It's not!"

With a snort, Heyes plucked up the sandwich, unwrapping it, "one thing I can tell you..." he took a bite, and around the mouthful, said, "... it isn't train tickets."

"He gave me the wrong envelope."

"That's the excuse you're going with." Heyes rolled his eyes, taking another bite of the roast beef sandwich.

"I'm telling you, it's the wrong envelope!"

"Like I'm supposed to believe you, Don Juan."

"What?"

Swallowing down his bite, Heyes' eyes sparkled, "He was a seducer of women, left them broken-hearted and longing for him."

"Heyes, it was supposed to be tickets to Denver…not a letter." Curry crossed his arms across his bare chest, his eyes bunching tighter together as he stated each word strong and clear, "It is the wrong envelope."

Swallowing the last of the sandwich, Heyes ran his tongue across his teeth, and then a hand across his mouth, "Are you telling me, you never looked in the envelope?"

Curry became sheepish, "didn't see a reason to."

"Oh, I don't know, Kid, to see if it contained what you had labored for."

"I trusted him."

"You rob banks and trains for a living. . . .and, you trusted him."

Curry snapped back, "Well, not everyone is as larcenous as you, Heyes."

"He is a man of intelligence, but to act sensibly, intelligence is not enough."

"There you go with that book again." Curry snarled, a scowl darkening his boyish looks.

Heyes' mouth twisted, pinching tight, the bridge of his nose developing definite wrinkles and breath by breath, his face became hard and cold as a winter gravestone.

Exhaling heavily, Curry plopped in the armchair, "I'm sorry, all right."

With a growl, Heyes rubbed at his face.

"What do you want me to say, Heyes?"

Looking up, Heyes revealed an evil grin, "How about you go into the details on how your tender, gentle ways carved your name on her heart."

"It was the WRONG ENVELOPE… it is not my letter!"

The wicked grin expanded into a double dimpled smile, "how much have we got?"

Exhaling his anger, Curry mumbled, "Six dollars and thirty-two cents."

"That include your rainy-day stash?"

Corner of Curry's mouth raised, "Nine dollars and thirty-two cents."

"And you spent the twenty in my hat?" Heyes said, ticking it off the list with an arch of his brow, already knowing Curry would reply yes.

Peeking over, Curry mumbled, "Uh, Heyes, I forgot you kept funds there."

"Ah... but to act sensibly."

"You keep quoting that book, and I'm gonna shoot you myself."

Pointing to his own empty holster rolled up, atop the dresser, Heyes responded, "Not like I could defend myself. If you had used the twenty, you wouldn't have needed to sell my revolver."

Curry looked twice as sheepish.

Taking up, the now, mostly cold cup of coffee, Heyes downed it in a few gulps before swinging his legs off the bed. "We got twenty-nine dollars and thirty-two cents, get dressed."

"What?"

Heyes pulled on his boots with a girn, "get dressed."

"Why am I getting re-dressed?"

"We are going shopping for a game."

"Not sure about that."

"Well, I am. When reason fails, the devil helps. Besides, hasn't enough bad happened to us in Wichita for a lifetime?"

In less than then minutes, they were out in the hurly-burly night. The first point Heyes noticed was the lack of scantily clad women on the sporting house porches. Yet, it was not surprising, for with the setting of the sun, the fall air had become crisp enough to have their breaths puffing out in clouds, as they walked.

For the next hour, they ducked in and out of gambling establishments, purchasing short beers and drinking them slow, as Heyes studied the tables. Finally, he turned to Curry, "that's the one, over near the stairs. The player's attire says they have an abundance of banknotes, and their lack of skill says I will be transferring their funds to our pockets."

"You think you can play it close enough that we'll be able to buy tickets."

"I think I can play it close enough that we'll be buying tickets and a whole lot more. But, I haven't got an iron…" Heyes patted the shiny spot on his pant leg where his holster skid usually rode, "So I'm relying all on you, tonight, partner."

"You expect trouble?" Curry looked to the table, noting fancy shooting rigs on two of the players.

"To not expect it, would be foolish," Heyes responded, slugging back the remainder of his beer. "Especially the way I'm planning on skinning them."