Destiny's Cycle: Eight, Page | 3

"A Formula for Everything…."

Lifting it a second time, Heyes extended his arm with his dimple appearing, "How much?"

The fastidiously dressed clerk cast a quizzical glance from Heyes to the cantankerous looking man at his side, before saying, "only twenty."

A frown creased Curry's face, "too much, isn't worth it."

Heyes grin twisted sideways, "we been over this."

"Still, stand by what I said."

"You usually do." Heyes responded, returning his attention to the clerk, "I'll take it."

With a bullish grunt, Curry walked over to look out the front window.

Peeling bills from their bankroll Heyes laid them on the counter before pulling his holster from his saddlebag.

Hearing him, Curry came all but stomping back, "Unload your loops that Schofield uses Smith and Wesson cartridges."

The slightest wrinkle appeared along the bridge of Heyes' nose, and he throwing several coins on the counter, he barked, "Hey! Fetch a box of S&W .45s." and proceeded to shove rounds from his cartridge belt.

Picking up on the slight flexing of the muscles along Heyes' jaw, Curry grinned, "Didn't realize it used different rounds, huh? You could always buy a Colt."

"Told you, I liked the feel of the Schofield when we were in Fort Worth."

"Yeah, and I said, you had a perfectly good Colt strapped to your side."

Heyes looked over, and Curry could read the outright mocking in his eyes, easier than the trail of a wounded stag as he placidly said, "You mean the perfectly good Colt I had, 'till someone up and sold it."

Placing the box on the counter and sweeping up the coins, the clerk looked from one man to the other, stating, "thank you for your purchase," and scurried to the far side of the store.

Opening the box, Heyes set to ramming brass into his cartridge loops, and as he did, he saw his partner cross his arms. Not wishing to endure the look he knew was being laid on him, he purposely angled his back to Curry. Strapping his rig on, Heyes dropped five cartridges into the pistol and snapped it closed, with a grin, holstering his new weapon.

"You would think by now, I would have figured out why you feel the need to be so hard-headed."

Heyes, only reply was a tossed scowl as he walked by, swinging the door open, leaving Curry behind to step into the stunningly, bright morning sun. Hitching his holster up and tugging his hat low, he turned right. When a shadow stretched out beside him, he knew who it was and picked up his pace toward the livery stable.

"Still, think that damn Scholfield is a poor decision."

One corner of Heyes' mouth hitched, and then exhaling, he cheerfully said, "Hey, Kid, way you were growling around back there, you sure had that clerk scooting about on eggshells."

"Stop trying the change the subject. I want you to listen to me."

Spinning and tipping his hat back, Heyes placed his hands on his hips, "Fine! Say your piece."

Curry's lips pursed and exhaling, he hitched his thumbs in his holster belt. "Schofields are unreliable, they tend to jam."

"I've seen Colts jam. Besides, I like the pistol's feel, its quick-loading, and…" Heyes raised his chin, a smugness coming to his face. "It is my firearm, not yours."

"Still, it is not reliable."

Rolling his head, Heyes took off walking. "What do I care? I have you, thats all the reliability I need."

Staying where he was for a heartbeat or two, Curry trying to hold on to his frustration, but a huffing laugh escaped, and with a shake of his head, he began walking. "Someday, you may not have me there, and it could be right when that thing jams, or blows part of your hand off."

"Someday you won't be there, at the exact time, my pistol fails." Heyes chortled darkly, "sure, glad you don't use them sort of odds figuring a poker game." He looked over at his partner, who did not look amused. "I'll let you pick the horses."

Curry shook his head, and as he opened his mouth, Heyes cut him off, saying, "Drop it! You already know you aren't getting anywhere."

"Yeah, I do." Kid Curry scratched at the side of his face. "Still, surprised at how much you pulled in last night. Kept seeing you raking in those pots and felt like luck was on our side, for once."

"Keep telling you, it isn't luck." Heyes looked over, "there is a formula for everything, and I know the formula for poker."

"If that is so, why don't you use it more often?"

Heyes slid to a stop, leaning toward his partner to hiss, "Because I'm an outlaw, not a hustler."

"What?"

"The formula includes finding players who are too dumb to realize they are playing out of their depths. Then I befriend them and lead them out to drown. It all makes me feel like a thief when I'm done."

"But, you are a thief."

A tightness came to Heyes' face, and he swallowed.

"You're serious."

Heyes looked down.

"You're really serious?!"

"I built them, men, up, making them believe they couldn't lose, and then took it all from them. That is why I never stayed in one game for too long. I couldn't let them catch on to what I was doing."

Curry shook his head, "long as we been together, and I still learn new things about you."

"Suppose I'm an enigma."

"No, you're just my pain in the backside cousin with a large vocabulary." Knocking Heyes on the shoulder, Curry set to walking again, "and, I am choosing the horses, holding you to that."

Trotting to catch up, Heyes dropped an arm about his cousin's shoulders, "I meant, I would let you choose yours, not mine."

"Not what you said."

"Now, Kid…."

As they trailed past the blacksmith shop teasing one another, a man of about forty with a heavy gold watch chain across his vest that had a bear claw hanging from it, stepped more into the street. His icy eyes watching them all the way by, and a smile coming to his face that pulled the scar on his chin tight as he muttered, "Well, now, that could biblically change my whole day."