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/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.
By George! c Dec1875
Chapter 4: Enemies
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George's face lit up with a pleased smile as she descended the hotel staircase early Sunday morning carrying her heavy woolen cloak. A man clad in black pants and a crisp white shirt leaned against the front of the registration desk. Heyes' elbow was on the counter holding his chin. The brown eyes were closed.
"I thought you weren't going with me to the Sheriff's office," whispered George.
Startled awake, Heyes jumped. He started to speak but a huge yawn overcame him, forcing his eyes closed. Snapping his jaw shut, he shook his head in an attempt to wake himself. George bit her lip, suppressing a chuckle.
"What are you doing here?"
"If I didn't come, Kid was gonna get up to escort you," grumbled Heyes. "For some reason, he thinks you need protecting."
"You're the one told him I was a damsel in distress," reminded George with a smirk. "Does that make you my knight in shining armor?"
"Hardly, " snorted Heyes. With a shrug of his shoulders, he added, "I came 'cause I don't want him out in the cold if it isn't necessary."
George didn't have a chance to feel chagrined. The outlaw turned to thump the bell on the shining walnut counter. Mr. Johnson came out of the back room, yawning and tugging his suspenders straight. The man didn't even ask, but turned straight to the safe.
"Sure will be glad to get rid of these things," muttered Johnson as he turned the dials.
"Me too," realized George.
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"And so you see Sheriff," dissembled George, "as soon as I saw these jewels, I knew I had to turn them in."
Sheriff Tate gaped in amazement at the glittering treasure scattered across his desk. George stepped sideways to peer out the front window of the Sheriff's office. The figure of Hannibal Heyes disappeared into the hotel door just as two riders reached the stables. While it had been oddly reassuring to have Heyes escort her and the jewels to the Sheriff's office this morning, he had departed before the Sheriff got a look at him.
"I'll need you to fill out a written statement," replied the lawman as soon as he could speak.
Half an hour later, George laid the pen down. Her penmanship wouldn't win any prizes, but the story she had concocted was legible. And even more important, believable.
"I'll be leaving on the next stage," concluded George. "So if you need anything additional, please write to me care of my father, George Sinclair, Texas Ranger division, El Paso Texas."
George hadn't heard from her father in years, but in her estimation, it never hurt to tell a lawman you were related to another lawman.
"First stage is Tuesday morning," nodded the Sheriff as he slid the box of jewels into the safe.
"Tuesday?" asked George in surprise. She stood up from the desk. "I can understand no stage yesterday, it was Christmas, and today is Sunday, but isn't there a stage on Monday?"
George wanted to get out of Poncha Springs before Sheriff Tate changed his mind about her innocence and demanded more than a written statement. The lawman looked up from the safe as he closed the door on the stolen horde and spun the dial.
"Ma'am, I'm just a lawman," replied the Sheriff. "I don't make the stage schedules, you'll have to check over at the depot."
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George trudged back across the snowy street to reach the boardwalk leading to the hotel. Mindful of the melting snow and the mud, she scraped the soles of her black boots on the scraper outside of the empty mercantile. Like the other shops along the street, it was closed for business on Sunday. The doctor tipped his hat as he passed her. George's eyes widened with the realization that the medical man could only have come from one place. The only open businesses were the hotel and the livery. She picked up the hems of her voluminous skirts and quickened her pace.
"Mr. Johnson," panted George, "was the doctor just here?"
Johnson looked up from his ledgers and nodded.
"Yep, Doc stopped by to see Mr. Newton about his lumbago," informed the barrel chested man.
"Oh," breathed George. The doctor wasn't here to treat Kid. She patted her heaving chest trying to catch her breath. "For a minute there I was worried. I thought maybe my brother had taken a turn for the worse. I'll just go…"
Breathlessly George fluttered her hand in a gesture towards the stairs. Johnson nodded as if he understood. George stepped away from the counter.
"Mrs. Sinclair," called Johnson, "You tell Mr. Rembacker and Mr. Owens that those friends of theirs need to get another room or there will be an extra charge."
George turned around and looked at Mr. Johnson in puzzlement.
"Friends of theirs?" George asked, trying hard not to sound too shaky.
"That's what them fellas said," responded Johnson. He frowned and pointed at the floor. Boot prints led across the floor. "Awful muddy friends, don't know a good boot scraper when they see one."
George swallowed.
"I'll be sure to tell my brother and his partner," promised George.
She loosened the ties of her cloak and laid it across the purple sofa, exchanging it for the two week old Denver newspaper still sitting where she had left it on Christmas Eve. George made her way upstairs, taking deep breaths with every step. Outside the door to Kid and Heyes hotel room, George stopped. She raised her right hand to rap loudly. It was a minute before Heyes pulled the door open. The slender man had a strained smile on his face.
"Mrs. Sinclair," greeted the polite rogue, "I'm afraid now is not the time…"
George pushed past Heyes in a determined rush. She only had a glimpse of his wide eyed surprise before she launched herself into the scam of her life.
"Where is that baby brother of mine!" huffed George in a tone of righteous indignation. "When I see him…"
Now in the room, George stopped abruptly. Kid had his blue jeans on over white long johns, bare feet dangling over the side of the bed. A big, burly ruffian pointed a gun at Kid's head. Behind Heyes, another smaller man stood holding a pistol pointed between his shoulder blades. The strangers had to be the bounty hunters that Heyes had mentioned.
"Henry," George gulped, letting the fear show in her face as she spoke directly to Kid, "Who are these men? What…"
"George…," began Kid.
The burly man standing next to Kid jabbed the barrel of the revolver against Kid's head. The curly haired blond's jaw clenched.
"Shaddup you," growled the big man.
"Ma'am, I don't know what you're up to," the other man spoke from behind Heyes, "but we're bounty hunters and these two men are our prisoners."
"Bounty hunters? Prisoners?" exclaimed George, her voice rising higher. The newspaper in her left hand crumpled as she balled up her fists and placed them against her hips, George glared at Kid. In her best irate big sister voice, she demanded, "What kind of trouble have you gotten into this time Henry? Did Mildred's father catch you sneaking around their home again? It's only four more months until the wedding…"
"Why ya keep calling him Henry?" blurted out the burly man jabbing Kid again. "This here is Kid Curry."
"And this is Hannibal Heyes," added the second bounty hunter.
For a moment George stared wide eyed, then her voice pealed with laughter.
"Kid Curry?" laughed George. She held up one slim hand and wagged her index finger back and forth, "Oh no, no, no. My baby brother is not Kid Curry."
"Is too," declared the big bounty hunter in an affronted tone.
"No," corrected George. Pointing directly at Kid, she lied her head off. "My brother's name is Henry Albertus Merriweather Owens."
"Naw," objected both bounty hunters, while Kid's eyebrows went up at her at her choice of names.
"And he's probably the slowest gun in the West," declared George for good measure.
The sound of a soft snort came from beside George. The slim brunette spun around to face Heyes and his captor. George flashed her eyes sharply at Heyes before turning to face the smaller bounty hunter directly.
"I will admit his friend here, Willard Rembacker, looks shifty enough to be an outlaw," continued George with a smirk.
"Huh?"
George smiled sweetly. For good measure, she batted her eyelashes too.
"Of course looking like an outlaw isn't enough reason to be arrested."
"That's what I keep telling them," interjected Heyes.
The second bounty hunter's gun jabbed painfully against Heyes' back causing him to wince.
"Maybe I should just let them arrest you," snapped George with a full out glare of annoyance at Heyes.
She composed her face and turned her smile back on the smaller bounty hunter to make her first play.
"Let's go see the Sheriff," suggested George "Then we can get this all cleared up."
"You want to take these men to see the Sheriff?" repeated the smaller man in amazement.
George took a step towards the door, still clutching the rolled up newspaper in her left hand. She made her second play.
"Certainly, I'm sure Winston…," George's voice stopped for a moment. She gave a throaty chuckle and brought her hand to her throat as she lowered her eyelashes. "I mean, Sheriff Winston Tate, will have all sorts of wanted posters, so you can see the mistake you're making."
"We ain't made a mistake," called the burly bounty hunter.
George looked up at the man's belligerent tone. He scowled across the room at her.
"You don't have to take just take my word that Henry is my little brother and Willard is his friend from law school," responded George airily.
"Law school?" echoed the smaller bounty hunter from beside Heyes.
"Yes," replied George with the gleaming smile of a proud big sister. "Henry is going to be a lawyer, maybe even a judge someday, just like Papa."
Her smile faltered for a moment. She turned her gaze to Kid, ignoring the bounty hunters.
"Now Henry, these men have just made a mistake," continued George in a lecturing tone. "You need to promise me that you won't have them arrested for kidnapping."
"Kidnapping?" echoed the burly bounty hunter.
A disgruntled frown on Kid's face was the only answer George received. The two bounty hunters exchanged a glance. George's use of the Sheriff's first name and referring to her father as a judge had rattled them. Time for the next play.
"I just don't understand," added George in a puzzled tone deliberately mixing up the names. "How could anyone mistake Henry for Hannibal Heyes and Willard for Kid Curry."
"He's Kid Curry," insisted the burly bounty hunter in a stubborn tone.
"And this one's Hannibal Heyes," corrected the smaller bounty hunter.
"Oh no they aren't," objected George with a dismissive wave of her hand. She made her final play. "Of course you will have to explain why you think Henry and Willard are Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, and how they could make it all the way to Poncha Springs in this weather after robbing Fort Fetterman's payroll in Casper two weeks ago."
She turned back to wave the crumpled newspaper beneath the smaller bounty hunter's face, hoping the man could read.
"The bank's shipment was hijacked," pointed out George. "According to this newspaper, the folks in Casper thought Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry escaped north."
The small bounty hunter snatched the newspaper from her hands. His eyes moved back and forth, the weapon in his hand lowering as he read.
"Doesn't the Devil's Hole Gang have a hideout somewhere up north?" asked George in a sweet tone.
"This paper says Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were in Wyoming two weeks ago," declared the smaller man as he looked across the room at his partner.
"Well they wasn't," objected the burly bounty hunter. "We've been trailing these fellas for nigh onto three weeks, maybe longer."
"I told you we weren't Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry," Heyes smiled in satisfaction.
"The descriptions are sorta general," wavered the bounty hunter still holding the newspaper. With a huff of exasperation, he declared, "I told you it was too good to be true to catch Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes on our first case!"
The burly outlaw scratched his head in confusion. The pistol pointed at Kid lowered.
"Are you sure you ain't Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes?"
"I will swear on a stack of Bibles that I am not Kid Curry," answered Heyes with a broad smile.
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The door slammed shut. George stared at the painted wood for a moment hardly believing their good fortune. A smile spread slowly across her face as she heard the lumbering footsteps of the two men hurry down the hallway. Footsteps that faded into the distance. George was giddy with happiness at the departure of the confused bounty hunters.
"They've gone," started George, "they've really…"
"Sssh," ordered Heyes.
The outlaw leader bent over and picked up the crumpled newspaper that the smaller man had dropped on the floor. Heyes straightened, frowned briefly at the paper and then strode purposely past George towards the window.
"Sssh?" asked George. "Why?"
The slender man stood back from the heavy floral drapery and watched the street below. Kid swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up with a wary expression on his face. George moved to stand next to the dark haired partner. Heyes remained silent. The two bounty hunters appeared in the street below. From their rapid fire arm movements, it appeared the two men were still arguing as they headed in the general direction of the livery. Heyes shook his head in amazement as the bounty hunters disappeared inside.
"It looks like they really are leaving," murmured Heyes in an incredulous tone.
"Of course they're…"
George's indignant reply was interrupted as Kid stepped towards her. The brunette smiled with delight to see her friend standing tall and strong. George gasped in surprise as Kid scooped her up in his arms and twirled her around. The broad smile spread across his face showed his relief.
"George, you were wonderful!" Kid beamed.
"Put me down," protested George as Kid continued to swinging her. "You're making me dizzy!"
Kid spun her around once more before the tall blond gently settled her feet back on the floor.
"But Albertus and Merriweather? Really?" complained Kid.
"Who are they?" questioned Heyes' low voice.
"Clem's cats," answered George.
"The orneriest pair of cats I ever did see!" added Kid with a chuckle. The blue eyes turned to his partner. Heyes still stood watchful at the window. "Heyes, aren't you gonna tell George how wonderful she was?"
"George, you were wonderful," agreed Heyes in a mechanical tone as he continued to stare out the window.
George watched as the tension seemed to drain out of his body. The two bounty hunters, now mounted on horses, exited the stable. A real smile spread across Heyes' face as the men headed out of town. Heyes turned to grin at George.
"The bit about your father the judge was inspired," agreed Heyes. The mastermind looked at the crumpled paper in his hands and frowned again. "I just wish we knew who robbed the Casper payroll."
"What, are you afraid someone's going to steal your reputation?" teased George.
"No, I'm afraid we'll get blamed for something worse," answered Heyes. "Right now, if we get arrested it's for robbery, three to six years in the Wyoming territorial prison. Murder is a hanging offense."
"Murder?" quavered George.
Jabbing his finger at the article he pointed to the description of the chase. George blanched at the phrases she had merely skimmed over… shots fired… nearly blew the deputy's head off… almost killed. It certainly didn't sound like Curry and Heyes with the Devil's Hole Gang. Their reputation for not shooting anyone during their robberies was well known.
"We plan three or four big heists in a year, and we choose our targets very carefully," explained Heyes in a low voice. "Cracking a safe in the dead of night is the best, not likely to be any innocent folks around."
"The Devil's Hole Gang is known for robbing banks and trains," objected George. "Stopping a wagon carrying a payroll isn't much different from stopping a train."
"Trains stay on tracks and railroad engineers have schedules," reminded Kid. The tall blond sprawled back across his bed. "You plan where to stop the train and go wait by the tracks until it gets there."
"Wagons follow roads, but there are a lot of roads" added Heyes. "To know which road, you'd have to have an inside man."
"Well, I for one am glad these thieves made the newspaper," stated George. She plucked the paper from Heyes' hands and fanned herself with it. "Otherwise those two bounty hunters would probably still be holding you both at gunpoint."
Heyes brown eyes narrowed. George could tell he was still worried about the robbers in Casper.
"How did those two find you?" asked George changing the subject. "How did they get in here?"
Heyes gave Kid a rueful glance. Both men shook their heads with an air of chagrin.
"It's my fault, I shoulda been more alert," started Kid, "but with this blamed cold, all I want to do is sleep..."
"Kid, it's not your fault you're ill," objected Heyes. "They got in because I didn't put a chair against the door before I went back to bed."
"Alright Heyes," agreed Kid. The blond stretched his long legs across the bed, laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. A broad smile spread across his face. "It was your fault. I can live with that."
"My fault they got in the room," agreed Heyes. The dark brown head nodded. "Of course it was your fault they found us to begin with."
"What?" demanded Kid. The blond sat up abruptly and stared at his partner. "No. How is it my fault?"
George listened to the gentle bickering with a smile on her face. She knew the men hadn't been partners for six years as Heyes, in the guise of Willard Rembacker, had claimed. Kid had been alone when he first arrived in Amarillo. She didn't remember seeing Heyes in Beaumont, so perhaps they met soon afterwards. Partners four years now. Maybe? Or was it longer? It seemed as if they'd known each other all their lives.
"You're slipping Kid," answered Heyes with a mock glare. "To find us they musta followed you from when they lassoed you on the trail."
"No, it wasn't them," objected Kid shaking his curly head. This time there was no teasing in his voice. "I never got a good look at him, but there was only one man lassoed me."
"Couldn't be," replied Heyes. The strategist reminded, "There were two of them following us when we split up. The one you didn't see was probably outta sight."
"Heyes, when I was jerked off my horse, I fell hard," argued Kid. "I was dazed with a rope around me. If there had been a second man, I wouldn't have gotten away."
Heyes didn't answer right away. George saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.
"You're using up your quota of jailbreaks Kid," responded Heyes finally, trying for a light tone. "I might get tired of having to come break you out one of these days."
"Thank you Heyes," responded Kid in a mock serious tone. "I'll remember that the next time you need someone to break you out."
The blond's infectious grin spread across his face, and the momentary tension dissolved into laughter.
"How did you get away?" asked George.
"The fella spooked my horse," answered Kid with a fond smile for the trusted animal. "Blackie reared up, hooves flashing while all I could do was sit there with my head spinning so bad I couldn't focus enough to see the man."
"What happened?"
"I don't think Blackie connected, but the fella dropped the rope and did a backstep," continued Kid. "He fell hard on the rocks, hit his head."
Kid rubbed the side of his head in remembrance before continuing his story.
"I imagine that fella will still be sporting a pretty good goose egg," stated Kid, "but I dragged myself back to Blackie, climbed back in the saddle and let him take me outta there."
"You were lucky," stated Heyes.
Kid nodded in agreement.
"Those bounty hunter's said they were following us for nearly three weeks," added Kid with a nod towards the window. "When we split up, nobody followed me. They musta followed you Heyes."
"So we're back to blaming me again?" questioned Heyes.
The dark haired man tilted his head to one side and gave Kid a glare, but George had enough.
"Just how many people are after you two?" asked George in amazement.
Kid and Heyes exchanged a glance. Kid merely shrugged, but Heyes turned to face George.
"Pretty much everybody," answered Heyes.
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"What do you mean you're leaving?" demanded George.
George had only been gone a few minutes. When she returned from the lobby clutching her cloak and rapped on the door to the partner's room, her two friends were packing.
"The bounty hunters left," reminded George.
"And they could change their minds and be back at any time," stated Kid.
The sturdy blond laid a pair of clean jeans and a red shirt on a blue wool blanket and began to roll the bedding and clothes up in a tight bundle. Heyes gestured towards the window.
"We saw them ride off," agreed Heyes. "Now all we have to do is get our horses and go the other way."
"But," protested George.
Kid plucked his holster off the bedpost and buckled it around his hips, barely slowing as he tied the weapon down against his thigh. He shrugged into his heavy sheepskin, rolling his shoulders to loosen the stiffness left as the coat dried. The floppy brown hat settled on his head, hiding almost all the curls. Kid threw his blanket roll over his shoulder and grabbed his saddlebags. He had a determined look on his face and for the first time in her life, George thought Jedidiah Curry looked dangerous.
"Heyes, you settle the bill," directed Kid. "I'll get the horses and bring them around back."
A quick one armed hug, a kiss on her cheek, a whispered goodbye and then George found herself blinking as she watched Kid's long legs stride down the hotel corridor towards the rear staircase.
"How did that sweet boy grow up to be an outlaw?" whispered George.
Heyes head jerked up at her words. For a moment the look in his dark eyes was unreadable. Then he resumed transferring his clothing from bureau to saddlebags.
"How did a sweet lady like you grow up to be a con woman?" asked Heyes in a soft voice.
George didn't answer his question. Speaking more to the saddlebags than to George, the inquisitive man continued.
"It wasn't until I heard you flimflamming those bounty hunters that I began to wonder," stated Heyes. "Is your father really a Texas Ranger?" Or a judge?"
George rallied. It had been wonderful having friends around, but nothing lasted forever. She could handle this.
"Both actually," George sniffed.
She tried to sound haughty and just a touch indignant, but Heyes turned to face her, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Oh all right," confessed George. "Father was a Texas Ranger, in 1869, back when I first knew Kid in Amarillo, but then his division was disbanded."
Heyes smiled as he slid his arms into his dark coat.
"Don't tell Kid," pleaded George. "Jed was just a boy when I told him, and I think he was sorta impressed, and he was talking about maybe signing up as a deputy…"
George realized she was babbling. She also realized that Heyes had a surprised look on his face. Had Kid never told his partner about wanting to be a lawman? For a moment they stared at each other. Then Heyes reached for his black pointed hat.
"Your secret is safe with me," assured Heyes. He prodded once more. "And a judge?"
Heyes' raised eyebrow made the gently mocking tone seem more curious than anything else. George sucked in a deep breath and plunged forward.
"A judge at the Lampasas County fair," explained George. "The hog calling contest."
Brown eyes blinked in surprise, then Heyes smiled.
"A little truth goes a long way," replied Heyes. "I guess I should be glad I only fell for the line even my own father would arrest me."
"That wasn't a line," stated George. "If there was a reward on me, or he thought it would get him back in the Rangers, my father would have me arrested in a heartbeat."
Heyes shouldered his saddlebags and stepped closer to George. Taking her hand in his, he raised the back of her hand to his lips.
"I'm glad that wasn't a line," whispered Heyes with a mischievous smile. "Usually I can tell when someone's trying to pull the wool over my eyes. I'd hate to think I was slipping."
"Oh," wailed George. "I wish you two didn't have to leave!"
"We don't want to be a danger to you or go to jail," reminded Heyes. "We can't stay."
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George stared at the food on her plate. Using her fork, she pushed a piece of chicken over next to some green beans. She was reminded of Heyes pushing food around on his plate during their breakfasts together before Kid arrived. Was this why Heyes hardly ate? The food didn't taste as good without her friends around. Bertha came with another serving tray and frowned at George's plate.
"Thank you, it's wonderful but I just can't eat another bite," smiled George.
The brunette laid her napkin on the table. Rising George turned to leave the dining room. She was almost to the staircase when she heard it.
"George," oozed Remy's slippery voice.
She had once thought the sound of his voice was sophisticated, cultured, pleasing. Now George cringed. A rough hand grabbed her arm above the elbow. George gasped to feel a metal barrel jabbed against her ribs.
"Where is it?" demanded Remy.
"Where's what?" asked George playing for time.
Dark eyes turned to see if anyone else was in the lobby to come to her aid. The front desk was empty. Mr. Newton snored on the settee oblivious to her danger. The gun barrel jabbed into her side.
"The jewelry box," snapped Remy. "Where is it? I've searched your room and I couldn't find it."
"Oh that old thing," George waved her hand dismissively, "I got rid of that years ago."
"No you didn't," argued Remy. "I've been trailing you for a long time and I know you still have it. You flash that box every time you try the diamond ring pitch."
George concentrated very hard on keeping her shoulders up and not letting Remy see her dismay.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have the box," repeated George.
"Why don't we go search your room again," snarled Remy, his fingers tightening on her arm. "And don't try anything funny. There isn't anyone here to help you."
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