Destiny's Cycle: Eleven, Page | 5

"Crossing the Border"

Their horses' bellies were stretched out along the flattened grass as they ran full out into the wind; filled with so much rain, it felt like they were battling a swollen river. Then the hail started, at first it was like grit being blown up from a Tombstone street, but steadily, it increased until marble-size rocks were bruising them. Despite this, each of them felt like cheering. For they knew, they were not only escaping Harold's plans but the twister, too; as every child of the plains knows, a tornado will suck all the wind to it as it races across the prairie.

As the battering deluge raced away, a bright, beautiful sun appeared, setting the wet prairie to glistening. Heyes and Curry shifted their weight backward, speaking soothingly to their horses, and in less time than either of them thought it would take, the animals fell from their pounding run to a jarring trot, and down to a walk. Even as this was happening, Curry was working on the wet leather binding his hands, and with a rush of brute force, he burst the ties, so suddenly, he about unseated himself when his arms flew apart. Leaning down, he snagged his bay's dragging rein, "easy boy, whoa."

Heyes' sorrel walked nearby and reaching over Curry caught its headstall, and stepping down, he flipped the sorrel's reins criss-cross over its neck. When he looked up to Heyes, his eyes were brilliant blue against his sun-baked skin. "That really happened, didn't it?"

"It did. But, it will sound like a hell of a whopper when we retell it." Heyes replied, shifting his tied hands for Curry to see, "would you mind."

Rushing back, Curry began working on the knots, and seeing not a trace of blood about Heyes' wrists, he growled, "You didn't even try to free yourself."

"Saw you were doing a fine job."

Throwing the ties in the grass, Kid grumped, "there are days, Heyes, there are days."

With a robust laugh, Heyes stretched, then picking up his reins, said, "Let's get moving."

Settling down in his saddle, and seeing Heyes taking off northwest, Curry called, "Wrong way?"

Reining in, Heyes looked around him, then pointed northwest, "No. Wyoming is that way."

"But we're going back."

"BACK!?"

Pointing his horse down their back trail, Kid responded, "Can't leave them lying out there, possibly wounded."

Heyes threw a look to the northwest and back to his partner, "I can."

Circling back, and around his partner, Curry laid a long appraising look on him.

"Fine, but you lead the way, and don't forget we're not armed."

Ten minutes of walking, they came over a rise to spy three horses grouped tight together, each one dropping its head to take quick, rushed bites of grass.

"Where are the other two?" Kid asked, his eyes scanning the prairie, "and their riders."

"Figure about now, Harold is explaining his wayward, backstabbing ways to St. Peter."

Not bothering to halt his search of the grass surrounding them, Curry grunted, "What?"

"The bolt that set everything in motion landed square on Harold MacKeefe."

At this, Curry did look to his partner, "I heard tell of it happening, often enough, but…" he shook his head, a grin appearing, "suppose that would be what Grandpa used to call just deserts."

A chuckle rolled from Heyes, "might be at that."

Keeping on the high side of caution, they meandered their horses down to the others, and sliding down Curry collected the trailing reins. Then passing by the speckled gray, not wanting the shotgun she carried, he removed a rifle from the next horse, possing it up to Heyes, before seizing a Henry, for himself, from the last horse's rigging.

"Hey," Heyes pointed to the speckled mare, "your rigs in her saddlebags."

"Another reason, I like traveling with you." Curry said, unbuckling the saddlebags, "'cause there ain't much you ever miss." Finding his holster, he unrolled it with an excited smile. Once back around his hips, he pulled the Colt checking its loads, before dropping it back in the skid, saying, "Hot damn, that feels better," his face shining with the truth of his happiness. "So, where's yours?"

"Harold said he fancied my choice of firearm."

Curry cringed.

One dark brow cocked up sharply.

"Don't know if you'll be getting that back."

"I will."

The smile twisted, "why bother, that pistol, ain't worth worrying about."

"I think it is."

Leaping onto his horse, Kid grumbled, "You are just plain out determined to carry a sidearm I frown on." Laying the rifle across his thighs, he kneed his horse after the pony train, Heyes was leading. "That's it, ain't it?" Despite his not answering, Curry knew his partner had heard him, and barked, "Why can't you concede, you hard-headed mule, I know better here."

Grinning into his bandana, Heyes gigged the horses into a trot, only pulling them in when they came upon a straight line of ground, rutted like a train had run off its tracks.

Staring open-mouthed at the thirty some rods of plowed land, Curry said, "Looks like it did a touch and jump."

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Suddenly the Henry rifle was in Curry's hands, "Boys, I see you and a pistol, ain't the only thing I'm accurate with."

Heyes squinted where his partner was focused, after a breath or two, he whispered, "you really see them?"

Curry squeezed the trigger, bringing forth a startled yowl. "Unless you all want further examples of my accuracy… Stand Up! Drop your weapons, holding your hands as high as you can reach."

Three of Heyes and Currys, prior captors, rose from the grass, and the one gripping his shoulder, shouted, "Damn it, Kid, you shot me. I can't raise my arm."

"You raise it, Walter, or I'll drop you where you stand, and you won't need to worry on it no more."

Urging their horses closer, Curry asked, "where's Jake?"

Mitchell spoke up, "Jake stuck to his horse when this all turned to hell in a handbasket, but that dog rode off, leaving us afoot."

Curry nodded, grunting, "Heyes, tie 'em up."

Hopping down, Heyes worked his way down the line of men, and when he snagged Walter's hands, the man whined, "Careful now, that hurts."

"Sure, it does."

"Well, show a bit of mercy, Heyes."

"Like you ever did," Heyes responded, recalling how tight Walter had bound his hands, a wicked gleam came to his eyes, and he made sure to repay the favor. Then, jerking Walter's bandana off, Heyes placed it against the wound, using the remaining rawhide to secure it in place.

"I'm gonna bleed out from such lousy bandaging."

Heyes snapped, "Hush up!" revealing a sharp, twisted grin, "You're a long way from dying."

Retrieving the pistols, he shoved them in his saddlebag before turning to eye the lump, rising from the grass, a ways off, "That Harold out there?"

Mitchell nodded, looking truly sad.

"How bad is it?"

Anthony took a step forward, "blackened 'em some, and ripped his horse up something terrible. He shook his head, "had to shoot that poor animal, it was wobbling around with his head dragging on the ground."

Mitchell nodded again, and if his hands were free, he most likely would have rubbed at his wet lashes, "it sure did kill Harold though."

Unconsciously, Heyes touched of his aching bullet wound, eyeing the tied men and their horses beyond. Seeing him do so, Curry called, "cover them for me, Heyes," and climbing to the ground, he handed off his rifle, hauling and shoving the three men on to their horses. Once all were mounted, Heyes aimed his sorrel for Harold.

"Heyes, damn it, we got plenty of pistols for you to choose from.

Heyes kept on for his target, the Schofield he could see sticking up from Harold's waistband. Hopping to the ground, with the rifle in hand, he kicked Harold's boot.

The foot flopped stiffly.

Moving closer, Heyes ground his heel into the man's outflung hand, adding more and more weight until he was confident Harold was not merely playing possum. Leaning in, Heyes snagged the Schofield and, using its barrel, opened Harold's vest, allowing him to lift the wallet sitting there.

Seeing the wallet on his return, Anthony grumped, "Never thought of you being one to steal from the dead."

"You are right there." Heyes replied, "I'm retrieving my property." Opening the wallet, he made a show of counting out four-hundred and thirty-two dollars, before letting portfolio fall from his hands

Anthony's brows bunched as the wind ruffled the bills splaying out of the wallet, before he thought what he wanted to say, Mitchell interrupted him, "What you fixin' to do with us?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Heyes answered, leading them northwest, and despite their constant line of questioning, he would not divulge his plans. But, somewhere in the afternoon, he pulled out his journal book and took to writing and chuckling.

After several quizzical glances, Curry finally asked, "What are you up to?"

"Recalling what Grandpa Curry said about just desserts?"

Curry's eyebrows rose questioningly, but the only answer he got was a playful wink.

The sun was long gone, and it was a dark night on the prairie with a sliver of a moon dangling in the sky. The same smothering darkness blanketed the town of Wano as the group rode in.

"You can't take us to the law, Heyes." Anthony grinned, "we'll rat you out quicker than snot from a cow."

Stopping by a fat pine tree, Heyes said, "Get down."

"With our hands tied."

"You expected the same from Kid and I. Fact is, my ribs still ache from hitting the ground two nights ago," Heyes answered, pulling the long knife he had taken from Anthony's boot earlier, "Now get down before I prod you off."

The three did as told, Walter hitting the ground with a shriek.

"Damn, but if you don't sound like a stomped on cat." Heyes teased, pulling the man to his feet. "All of you sit on down with your backs to the tree."

Seeing what was up, Curry retrieved a lariat from Mitchell's saddle, and jubilantly, roped the men to the tree, in the same manner, he had been forced to endure since their capture.

While he was doing this, Heyes swiped a spot smooth, carving WANTED in the soil, then using the same blade, he pinned the journal pages he had filled to the ground.

"What's that?" Walter asked, motioning toward the papers.

"Your names, known crimes, and the States looking for the whole group of you. See this way whoever finds you will keep you for the reward."

Curry softly, chuckled.

"Now, Heyes, you're known to be a fair man." Mitchell said, "You too, Kid."

"That we are," Heyes replied. "This…" he waved at them tied to the tree, "is fair turn around, seeing we have heard non-stop how each of you was going to spend our rewards." Leaning an arm across his partner's shoulder, Heyes chuffed out a dark sounding laugh, "Only all you will be spending now is time."

"You leave us like this, Heyes, and we'll send 'em after you," Walter growled.

Standing straighter, Heyes replied, "Go right ahead," snugging is gloves tighter, he chuckled again, "for once we hit the Arikee Breaks, we'll be hard to follow."

"And, with five horses to switch through, we'll be traveling fast." Curry put in, tugging his hat down lower. "Makes me feel damn confident about our chances of crossing the Wyoming border before any posse ever lays eyes on us." Touching a finger to the brim of his hat, Curry swung until the saddle, but before following his partner, who was already trotting off with the line of ponies. He shook his head at the men, "too bad Harold never explained how blood money is bad luck from the moment you start dealing in it."