Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit. Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.
A Man of Few Words
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"I'm coming Jubal," huffed Hopkins.
The out of breath bounty hunter leaned forward, hands on his thighs. His chest heaved from exertion. There hadn't been any more shots. And that worried Hopkins. Curry and Heyes were well known for being the most successful outlaws in the territory. A big part of that success was due to the fact that in all the banks and trains they had robbed, they never shot anyone. But Hopkins knew a wet behind the ears kid like Jubal was no match for a pair of hardened criminals. And desperate men were dangerous. Would Curry and Heyes shoot Jubal in their escape attempt?
"I'm coming."
Hopkins set off again. When he got a stitch in his side he alternated running with walking. The closer he got to the quiet camp, the more he worried.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Sure wish you'd wake up," murmured Kid.
The sturdy man had done what he could to make Jubal comfortable. He'd unpacked one of the neatly rolled blankets and laid it beneath a cottonwood tree. Then he'd moved the young man from the rocky riverbank to the shady spot. He quickly separated his chestnut and Heyes' black from the tether line. After he'd retrieved their gear and loaded the horses, he returned to kneel beside the young man. Kid laid the long legged young man's empty pistol on the blanket beside him.
"That fella Hopkins ought to be here any minute now," assured Kid. "I just gotta get these horses outta sight and check on my partner, but I'll be back."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Finally," huffed Hopkins.
The aging man reached the site of their former camp. Jubal had done a good job packing up. Only a circle of blackened stones around a cold campfire showed that anyone had been there. Hopkins cautiously crept forward, looking towards the tether line. His shoulders slumped at the sight of a body sprawled out beneath a nearby tree alongside the remaining three horses.
"Aww Jubal," mourned Hopkins.
Hopkins stepped cautiously from beneath the forest. He plodded his way slowly down the slope towards the tether line. The nearest horse to Jubal, leaned down and snuffled at the young man's face. Jubal gave a soft, low moan of protest and swatted his hand at the animal before his arm flopped back down, motionless again. Hopkins eyes widened in disbelief. A tremulous hope flared in his chest.
"Jubal!"
Heedless of any lurking outlaws, Hopkins hurried past the horses and gear to the blanket spread beneath the shade tree. He knelt to examine his nephew, setting his pistol to one side. Shaking hands ran over the prone body. No sign of blood, just a small lump on the back of Jubal's head. Brown eyes fluttered open briefly and then closed again. Hopkins breathed a sigh of relief. Jubal was unconscious but otherwise appeared fine.
"Sure wish you'd wake up," murmured Hopkins in relief.
"I told him the same thing."
The bounty hunter started in surprise at the sound of the soft voice. Hopkins instinctively reached for his pistol, only to find a brown booted foot standing on it. His eyes travelled up the long damp denim clad legs to see Curry towering over him. With his sheepskin coat on, his former prisoner looked bigger and wilder somehow. The man's gun belt circled his slim hips and a Colt protruded from the holster tied down around his thigh. The fast draw's thumbs were hooked in his belt mere inches from Hopkins' nose. The grizzled man swallowed. Hopkins slowly raised his arms to his sides in a gesture of surrender, but Hopkins couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.
"What did you do to Jubal?" snarled Hopkins.
"Talked. He fell."
"Phht, I don't believe that!" scoffed Hopkins. "Listen Curry…"
The curly haired blond interrupted with the longest sentence Hopkins had yet heard from the man.
"Name's Jones, my friends call me Thaddeus."
"You and I both know better," snorted Hopkins. "Where is your partner?"
"Around."
The smile that accompanied that one word, gave Hopkins the chills. The bounty hunter wanted to look over his shoulder to see if he could spot Heyes. He wanted to grab Jubal and run. But Hopkins knew, if he ran they wouldn't get far.
"I suppose your partner's got a rifle aimed at my back," the tense voice responded. It was an effort to keep his voice level, but Hopkins wasn't going to let these men see his fear.
"Maybe."
The blue eyes calmly regarded Hopkins. The former prisoner's next words were another statement, not a question.
"You're not from around here."
The bounty hunter shrugged. He had wanted one last big reward, something extravagant, enough money to live out his last years in comfort. The lure of capturing the two most famous outlaws in the west, with a bounty of ten thousand dollars each, had been too much to resist.
"Don't usually come this far north," grated out Hopkins.
"Caused some harm."
Some harm? The steely voice sounded just as calm as before. Hopkins looked at his former prisoner in shock. Hopkins didn't know what had happened to Jubal, but his nephew lay still and unmoving. Something had happened. And he wasn't quite ready to be so peaceable!
"So did you!" retorted Hopkins. He pointed at his nephew. "Look what you done!"
The quiet man merely shook his head in denial. Hopkins fumed. The bounty hunter reckoned there was some truth to the blond's words. The bounty hunters had caused some hurt to the two men they captured, but it just wasn't the same! Not the same at all!
"You're wanted men! Wanted dead or alive," snarled Hopkins. "Jubal's just a twenty-year old kid..."
"He's a man with a gun in his hand," interrupted the lean man. "Some folks woulda killed him just for aiming at them, not to mention pulling a trigger. Be glad he ain't dead."
Hopkins inhaled sharply at the reminder that he'd expected to find his nephew dead. But what was the escapee saying? Was the shot Hopkins heard from Jubal's gun? The sturdy man spoke again, changing the subject.
"You have something that belongs to my partner."
"Huh?" Hopkins looked puzzled for a moment, his mind still reeling. He realized the blond meant the things he'd taken from Heyes' coat. He pointed to his saddlebag. "In the small pouch."
The blond frowned and shook his head slowly.
"Got that back already."
Hopkins frowned, uneasy at the idea of an outlaw going through his things. He tried to remember. He'd tucked the skeleton key, lock picks, and knife away for safe keeping. It took a moment for him to remember the other item, the one he hadn't recognized and put away into his vest to look at later.
"In my pocket," answered Hopkins.
"Take it out slowly," nodded the cautious man. "Two fingers."
Hopkins lowered his hands and withdrew the folding metal gadget marked with lines and numbers. Curiosity made him pause before he held it up towards the armed man.
"What is it?"
"A folding ruler." Nimble fingers quickly reached out and plucked it from his hand. The tall man slipped the item into an inside coat pocket. At Hopkin's still puzzled look, the blond added, "My partner likes to measure all the angles."
"Right," snorted Hopkins. "And what's a pair of outlaws doing with a thing like that?"
The muscular man might have answered, but Baxter stumbled out of the woods at that moment. With lightning fast reflexes, his foot still firmly pressing Hopkins' weapon into the dirt, the blond pivoted to face the new arrival. His Colt leapt into his hand.
"Don't shoot! Please don't shoot me!"
An alarmed Baxter sank to his knees. Sniveling, he raised his hands high above his head. Hopkins saw a chance and took it. He snatched up Jubal's six-gun, rolled to the left in hopes of drawing any potential rifle shots away from Jubal. Hopkins came up in a crouch and pointed the barrel at the fast draw. He pulled the trigger.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Blood drained from Hopkins' face as he realized what he'd done. Instead of saving Jubal, Baxter and himself, he'd most likely signed their death warrant. If there had been ammunition in the gun, five shots at close range would most likely have killed the man standing in front of him. Hopkins wasn't a murderer. He just wanted to keep Jubal safe. The bounty hunter sucked in a shaky breath. This job hadn't turning out anything like he'd planned. No, not at all. Jubal was hurt. And for a man that had always prided himself on bringing the men he captured in alive, Hopkins woulda killed this fella. In the instant between one breath and the next, the Colt swung back around to point at Hopkin's head. Hopkins slowly lowered the empty pistol, sure he was gonna die.
"Mine's loaded," advised the low voice.
There was a moment's silence as Hopkins wrapped his head around the idea that Curry hadn't shot him. Heyes, wherever he was watching from, hadn't started shooting either. Jubal stirred, blinked, and clutched his head. The wobbly youth struggled to sit up. With a small groan, Jubal tried to turn away from Hopkins. But it was too late. The young man's mouth opened, shooting forth an odorous, slimy, partially digested mass that hit Hopkins in the center of his chest. The explosion was over in an instant. Hopkins held the youth, patted his back, murmured soothing noises. Hopkins glanced back up at Curry. The cold, hard mask in the man's blue eyes disappeared. The hardened outlaw was gone, if indeed he'd ever been there. Exposed, the man suddenly looked much younger than his years.
"Take your men and go."
Hopkins nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything at this unexpected reprieve. First the gunman hadn't shot Jubal. Then when he had every reason to retaliate in kind against Hopkins, the man didn't shoot him. Now more than ever, Hopkins knew this man was Jedidiah "Kid" Curry, a fast draw and a peaceable man.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Ask him," hissed Baxter.
The aging bounty hunter tightened the last strap. The travois behind Jubal's horse would carry the young man until he was steady enough to ride again. Everything else but the rifles, pistols and ammunition was packed on their horses.
"I ain't gonna ask him," huffed Hopkins. "Be glad he's letting us go! Or have you forgotten he's the one holding the gun?"
"I ain't forgot!" snapped Baxter. "And I ain't forgot about that cougar neither!"
Hopkins glanced back at the tall blond. Curry leaned against the cottonwood tree, watchful, waiting the past twenty minutes for them to mount up and leave. By now, Hopkins realized Heyes wasn't standing somewhere in the woods watching his partner with a gun trained on them. The aging bounty hunter hoped to get them moving before Baxter figured that out too. Jubal was still groggy after a small bump on the head. How was Heyes? Hopkins wanted to be far away when Curry checked on his partner.
"You fellas about done?" called out Curry.
"Just need to get Jubal strapped on," nodded Hopkins.
The bounty hunter started towards his nephew. Heedless of Hopkins' advice,Baxter stepped away from the travois and hobbled towards Curry, shackles dragging in the dirt with every step.
"We'll need our guns and ammunition," insisted the brazen man.
Curry arched an eyebrow upwards.
"I don't think so."
Hopkins watched the two men as he got Jubal's arm over his shoulder, wrapped a hand across the gangly man's chest and hauled Jubal upright.
"It ain't like we're gonna come back and shoot you," continued Baxter. "We know your partner is watching…"
"You won't see him," warned the tall blond.
"It's just we can't go travelling through the wilderness unarmed..."
"Shoulda thought about that before."
"What about the cougar?" fretted Baxter. "We won't be able to defend ourselves!"
Hopkins led Jubal towards the travois, stopping between Curry and Baxter.
"You got a death wish? Don't rile him," hissed Hopkins out of the side of his mouth. He angled his nephew sideways a bit. "Help me get Jubal situated. We need to be going."
Baxter glanced over his shoulder at the watchful man waiting for them to leave. Curry flashed a tightlipped smile. Baxter backed away from the tall blond, stepping closer to Hopkins and Jubal.
"Alright, but you're gonna have to help me mount up," conceded Baxter. He brought his shoulder under Jubal's other arm. "And as soon as we're far enough away, we stop for the keys to these things!"
Another five minutes and they were ready to leave. Baxter was muttering about cougars again. Hopkins just wished he'd shut up.
"Cougar probably won't bother you," soothed Curry. "I'd be more worried about running across a mama grizzly and her cubs."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
The bounty hunters rode until they found the next watering hole for the horses. It was then Hopkins checked his saddlebags. The pouch with Heyes' things was gone as well as one other small item. The rawhide stitching on the bottom corner was undone. Whether cut deliberately or just finally giving way through normal wear and tear, Hopkins couldn't tell.
"What do you mean the key to the shackles is gone?" demanded Baxter. "I ain't gonna ride side saddle all the way to Wildwood!"
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Unnh," protested Heyes.
Dark eyelashes fluttered, then opened. Rosy afternoon sunlight streaked through the bushes to dapple the rocky ledge. It was bright enough to make him scrunch his eyes closed. That hurt. He inhaled in a deep breath, hitching at the pain in his ribs. That hurt too. He hurt. Heyes realized he hurt pretty much everywhere, but he couldn't remember what happened. Another groan, this time one of frustration mingled with pain escaped his bruised lips.
"Unnh."
From out of nowhere, a cool wet cloth pressed against Heyes' forehead. The former outlaw tensed at the unexpected gentle touch. Another inhalation brought the scent of horse, gun oil and sweat. The soft voice confirmed his partner's presence.
"Sssh, you're safe," soothed Kid. "Where does it hurt?"
The quiet question triggered memories. Three armed men surrounded their camp before the coffee had a chance to brew. Heyes tried to convince the leader of the bounty hunters that Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith were not the men they were seeking. A man with hard, dark eyes raised his rifle. Heyes struggled to sit up. His damaged body swayed uncertainly as the world went spinning. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders.
"Don't think you're quite ready to sit up on your own partner," advised Kid.
Heyes blinked his eyes. Kid's face, marred by a small cut on his forehead, leaned closer. The blue eyes gazed at him worriedly, but Heyes reacted.
"Those men! Where are they? We've got to get out of here!"
"They're gone," answered Kid. He shifted his hold on Heyes. A steady hand reached for a battered tin cup. "Long gone. You've been out for a day and a half."
"Gone?"
Brown eyes blinked in confusion. Why would the bounty hunters leave? Those men knew who Thaddeus and Joshua were. They'd been caught, well and truly caught. Heyes knew from the look in their eyes. Even his silver tongue spouting desperate pleas wouldn't convince those men to release them.
"All you have to do is rest and get better," added Kid.
The cup pressed against Heyes' mouth. For a moment, nothing was more important than swallowing the cool, fresh water. Kid pulled the empty cup back. Heyes focused on his partner's battered face. He wasn't the only one hurt. Brown eyes quickly assessed his partner's injuries, bruises, cuts, chafed wrists. And there was a tightness around the blue eyes that told of exhaustion, worry, pain.
"But Thaddeus… those men… they'll be back…"
Heyes had hoped he would be able to convince the bounty hunters to release them, but he remembered the sure certainty found in the eyes of the oldest bounty hunter.
"Joshua, those men left this morning," soothed Kid. "They ain't coming back."
Heyes flexed his hands, no cuffs nor rope. He could tell they weren't at the same campsite where they'd been ambushed. He heard their horses nickering nearby. A glance through a tiny gap in the bushes revealed a trickling stream. On the other side of the river cottonwoods swayed in the spring breeze. Further up the slope, tall Ponderosa pines stood sentry.
"But… how… why…"
"Got lucky," replied the gentle man with a soft smile. "Convinced them to leave us alone."
"They let us go?" Heyes couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. "Really?"
"Don't you have faith in me?"
Heyes flashed a bright smile in response, his partner's lips curled up in an answering smile. Heyes really didn't have to think about it. How many plans had been made of nothing more than desperate hope, luck and faith in a partner? Heyes knew, Kid didn't talk much, but that never stopped him from making his point.
"Course I do," mumbled Heyes as he closed his eyes and drifted off to a healing sleep.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-