Too Many Outlaws to a Cabin

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen-"

"What are you counting?"

"Pinecones. Thirteen—"

"On the ground or in the tree?"

"There's thirty-two on the ground, thirteen-"

"Then in the tree," came a chipper reply, followed by, "you getting anywhere near locking down your temper?"

"You interrupting isn't helping."

"What they do now?"

"What haven't they done?"

"Well, I'm sure there is plenty they haven't done."

"Yeah? Name some."

Silence stretched between the partners.

"Well?"

"You put me on the spot, I can't think."

"Go away," Curry replied, raising his face to the tree, once more muttering numbers.

There came a clatter from above, and two pinecones plopped into the soft, brown nest of needles surrounding the tree.

"You already count that pair?"

"You come out here to rile me up further?" Curry snarled, not bothering to face his partner.

"Having heard you threatened," there was a pause filled with a definite sarcastic snort, "to put anyone who followed you under the soil already alerted me you were riled."

"Still, here you are."

"Knew you wouldn't put me under the soil."

Blue eyes slowly lowered to Hannibal Heyes, casually standing with his thumbs tucked into his beltline, "you sure."

"Out here, aren't I."

Folding his arms across his chest, Curry heaved out a chuffing sigh.

"Keep telling you to ignore them."

"I can't read the way you do."

"Now, that isn't true." Heyes grinned, "I was there when you were taught how."

"Heyes, I am not in the mood for you 'bout now."

The grin became a chuckle that earned Heyes a few well spat curse words, which only made him laugh louder. Taking a breath, he, at last, gasped, "I have a plan to rescue you."

Shifting his weight to his heels, Curry raised his chin with a scowl.

Despite the gunfighter's glare which, almost always, caused others to walk away, Heyes grinned heartily, saying, "been looking 'round the Hole, and I've found enough supplies to build a comfy room in the back corner of the barn."

"How big of a room?"

Rolling his lower lip through his teeth, Heyes answered, "10x10."

"You planning on bunking there?"

A barking laugh erupted from Heyes, and he threw a quick look toward the Leader's Cabin, "of course."

"Then it isn't going to work. 'Cause after a few days, I would be ready to put you in the ground." Jabbing a finger toward his and Heyes' cabin, Curry shouted, "move them to the barn."

Swallowing hard, Heyes' mouth twisted to the side, and when he spoke, he looked a bit greenish, "can't do that, I uhm...well, I can't."

"Oh, I know…" Curry rolled his eyes, "what makes you such a good leader is—"

"Stop!" Heyes shouted, "I already know it is foolish to let Kyle lead me on with such verbose praise."

Curry's nose wrinkled, "verbose is right."

Heyes' tongue flicked across his lower lip, and with a puckish toothy grin, he said, "You don't know what verbose means, do you?"

Stepping up on Heyes, Curry jabbed an indignant, rigid finger in his pal's chest. "You really thinking this is the time to be showing off."

Heyes raised his eyebrows in response.

Curry jabbed him again, breathing into his face, "You want to show off, you figure out how to free us from living shoulder to shoulder with the entire gang."

Above the turmoil rising from the leader's cabin, the sharp thrum of a Jew's Harp rang out, the twanging being somewhat recognizable as the 'Rose of Alabama.'

"Damn it!" Curry barked, throwing his head back. "Lobo's found that harp, again. I am not going back in there."

Heyes studied the cabin, rubbing a palm along his jawline he muttered, "We could go to Lottie's."

"You want to try the passes this late in January?"

Releasing a chirking sound, Heyes shrugged, "shot down the barn idea, won't go back inside, can't have you killing off our gang. Doesn't leave many choices."

Curry stared loathingly at the cabin, for a long drawn out minute, before replying. "Fine, let's try for Lottie's."

Heyes' relaxed, full smile finally appeared, "Great! Let me tell the boys."

"Don't you dare."

"Kid, we can't just ride off."

"And why not?"

"That'd be like us abdicating our leadership."

"Really? Abdicating?"

"It's when-"

"I know what it means."

"You do?"

The blue eyes narrowed.

"Go on and inform them. Just make sure they know, we two..." he jabbed Heyes in the chest hard enough to set him back a step, "...are going, and they are not."

"But, they will want to."

"Are you their leader or not?"

A deep frown darkened Heyes' face, pitting his dimple into his cheek.

"Well?"

"I'll inform 'em."

-ASJ-ASJ-ASJ-ASJ-ASJ-ASJ-

"Didn't expect to see so many fresh sets of tracks leading into Lottie's this time of day," Curry said, squinting under the noon sun reflecting off the glistening, ice-crusted snow.

"Has to be the cold," Heyes responded, hastening after his partner for the Chicken Ranch's front door, "I'm frozen clear through."

"'Bout the same," Curry answered, knocking snow from his boots against Lottie's front steps, the hollow thumping sounding unusually loud on the snow-blanketed day.

Their stomping had worked as well as knocking for when they looked up, a tiny, flamboyantly attired, full-figured lady had opened the door and was holding onto it eyeing the pair of them.

"Hello," Curry said, glancing to Heyes before asking, "Lottie not welcoming her guests in?"

"Busy day, quite a few guests already inside."

"And, now two more," Heyes answered, a little too brightly, shouldering past his partner. "Don't believe we've met before."

Tilting her head, which was topped with piles and piles of golden curls, to the side, the woman peered up into Heyes' face. "No, we haven't, I wouldn't be forgettin' such a smile as yours." She held up her dainty hand, the heavy rings adorning it, making it look even smaller. "I'm Jenny Black."

Taking the offered hand, Heyes brushed his lips across the back of it, "Hannibal Heyes, Ma'am." He tipped his head toward his partner, "and this here's Kid Curry. Mind inviting us in before we're to stove up to do so?"

Stepping back, Jenny opened the door wide, "Heard of you." Once they were in, she shut the door, flicking its brass lock into place. "And, mighty fine to meet you both."

They nodded, pulling gloves, and unbuttoning their coats while peering at the thick, burgundy jacquard curtains somewhat muffling the cheerful sounds emitting from Lottie's drinking and gambling parlor.

"Noticed some good horses in the barn," Kid said, his blue eyes flicking toward Jenny. "Who all is here?"

"Fraid I'm not much help," she answered, a smile flitting across her face. "I haven't been here long enough to learn the local's names."

"Yet, you knew us. . ." Heyes said, glancing warily to Curry, ". . . and Lottie's allowing you to mind the door."

A kitten purr of laughter rolled from Jenny, "Ain't you the suspicious one. Sugah, everyone knows y'alls names and, Lottie and me, we been pals, or as she would say bonne amis, for an awful long while. So, don't you be frettin' so."

Heyes' nose wrinkled, but Curry's broad, cheerful smile appeared. "Nevermind Heyes, he is a born skeptic. It's good to meet you, Miz. Jenny," and saying this, he offered her his hand to shake.

"Oh, goodness, that's too formal." Reaching up, she pulled Curry into a full embrace, kissing him. "You just call me, Jenny, and I deem we'll be dandy pals, right quick."

Grinning like one bringing rare news, Curry chuckled, "betting we will."

Turning to Heyes, Jenny raised one sharp eyebrow, tilting a bright blue eye up at him.

Bending, he obligingly planted a peck on her rounded cheek.

With a shake of her head, that set her curls to bobbing, she playfully sighed, "suppose it is a start."

"It is," he answered, and loosening some, offered her, his arm, "shall we join the others?"

Grinning wickedly, she leaned in close, "only in all good things."

A soft snort escaped Heyes, "I might have to concede to friendship quicker than I was planning, Jenny, I just may." Pulling back the curtains, he escorted Jenny in with the entire room turning to see who they might be.

Just off-center, near a Faro game, stood a bald man in an iron black suit, his pale eyes widening as they fell on Heyes and in return Heyes' dark eyes did the same on recognizing the man as Hue Milton, a known take 'em in dead sort of bounty hunter.

Without hesitation, Milton twisted, reaching for his pistol.

As he did, the room spun around Heyes, everything slowing down. He could see Sam behind the bar shouting a warning, gamblers and sporting gals turning, leaning, diving from being caught between Milton and his obvious target. Wrapping his arms about Jenny, Heyes flung himself to the side, pulling her from harm's way while hollering "Kid, straight ahead."

However, Curry did not need the warning as he had already locked on Milton and was pulling his Colt. Which would be the technical description of what Curry did, because he no longer felt the actual motion, only the weight of the Colt as he flung it forward with fire bursting from its muzzle.

Hue Milton flew back, blood spraying from his gun shoulder, his own bullet showering down ceiling plaster above where Heyes had been standing.

When Milton hit the floor, a collective gasp was exhaled by the room. Except, the bounty hunter was not done, and rolling to his side, he scrambled to his knees, and using both hands, he brought his own Colt back to bear on Kid Curry. "Name of the law, I aim to arrest you."

"Not tonight, Milton," Curry answered, "drop your piece."

"You'll shoot me through if I do."

"Not my style, although it's known to be yours."

Milton's pistol wavered, blood pumping from his wound, staining his shirtfront a dark merlot.

"You've lost this round, Milton."

The pistol hit the floor with a hard thud, and heaving out a rattling groan, Milton pushed himself up, using the Faro table to leverage himself to his feet.

Stepping forward, Lottie's face was near as red as her hair, "Monsieur, it be well known, I non allow huntin' in mon place. Not ever!"

Gripping tight of the table's leather padded edge, Milton turned an ugly face to Lottie. "I have no care for what a well-dressed whore has to say." Shoving himself up, he jerked a pistol from behind his back, but even as he stretched out his arm for Curry, a belching roar overwhelmed all other sounds and folding in half Milton dropped to the floor like a bag of potatoes.

Placing a smoking sawed-off shotgun on the tabletop, the faro dealer drawled, "It is uncouth to address a lady in such a horrid manner."

His words breathed life back into the room, its inhabitants cheering agreement.

Disentangling himself from Jenny's voluminous green silk dress, Heyes rose up, bringing the gasping blonde with him as Curry holstered his firearm.

Putting her hands on her ample hips, Lottie squealed, "Par Dieu,Doc! Now, moi has to call for the Law instead of the docteur."

Standing, the dealer smoothed an errant lock of hair away, his entire face alight with mischief. "I'd say all you truly require is the undertaker."

"You fully well know, it do not work that way, Monsieur Holliday," Lottie answered, jabbing a finger directly at the thin, wide-shouldered man. "What is it goin' cost moi to have you removed from the skillet, yet again?"

Snagging Lottie's hand, Holliday pulled it to his mouth, kissing her palm, "Come now, Darlin', ain't I been your good luck charm?"

She shook her head, "Chér, I'd say as lucky as number thirteen, oui, that be what I'd say."

"Ah, Chérie, how cruel you can be." He grinned, kissing her palm again, "still,I am positive we shall come upon something."

Shaking her head, but smiling, Lottie shouted, "Sam, send Mikey for the undertaker, then Sheriff Mills." Pulling her hand from Holliday, she turned to the room, releasing a vivacious smile and a bird song laugh, she called out, "rest of y'all best be for huntin' y'alls hidey holes."

The room became unbelievably noisy as its occupants set to clearing out while exclaiming over what had occurred.

Heyes turned open-mouthed and wide-eyed to Curry, the pair briefly reliving the frigid two-day ride that had brought them here.