Much earlier in the morning than the Kid would have expected, Heyes came whistling down to breakfast. He wasn't a very good whistler, but it was an unmistakable sign of high spirits with Heyes – as the man himself knew well. He sat next to the Kid in the back room as Cat came in and out with pancakes and bacon. "Thanks, partner. You were right." He grinned.
"Ain't I always, when it comes to you and women?" The Kid asked, gleefully. "That gal will take all your cares away."
"No, Kid." Heyes looked hard at the Kid, suddenly very serious. "Only one woman can do that, and she's about seventeen hundred away from here. And she won't ever do it, anyway." Cat heard this and looked with concern at Heyes. She restrained herself from asking "After what she did to you!" The shadow in Heyes' dark eyes was unmistakable. It would take more than one night of pleasure to make him forget Beth, if anything ever could. However, he couldn't deny that the previous evening's events had raised his spirits some.
After breakfast, Heyes went out to the stable. The Kid started to follow him, but Heyes turned and looked at him. "Not today, Kid."
"Have it your way, Heyes." The Kid turned on his heel and went back to Christy's place, where plenty of work awaited him. He was disappointed to miss a ride on a nice late spring day, but he suspected he knew the reason behind Heyes' desire to ride alone. When the Kid saw his partner come back not much more than an hour later walking a bit stiffly, Curry knew that he had been right. Heyes, after he had had to give up riding on Long Island, had gotten completely out of shape for riding. He was embarrassed to have his partner see him working himself slowly back into shape. As he watched Heyes making his way gingerly up the steps to his room, the Kid had to make a mighty effort to restrain himself from snickering at his partner's discomfort.
The next day, Heyes was riding again pretty early. The Kid was out on horseback, too – taking some supplies up to their friend Cavanaugh on his mountain top with a pack mule. Cavanaugh didn't like to come down with the town folks, but he was always glad to see the Kid. On the way up the Kid heard a rapid series of shots. He sometimes encountered hunters up in the forest, but these shots didn't sound like a rifle – they sounded like a pistol. The Kid was in two minds as to whether to investigate the shots – he needed to stay away from trouble, not look for it. But as he continued up Cavanaugh's path, he heard another volley of shots, closer. He looked in the direction of the sound and a glimpse of a figure maybe a hundred feet away, facing away for the road and towards a mountain ridge. The figure seemed familiar. The Kid saw the man reach for his gun and fire another volley of six shots, then methodically reload his Colt. The Kid would have known those gestures anywhere. He tied his horse and mule by the road and walked toward where Heyes was target shooting. As the Kid got close, Heyes unloaded another volley at his targets that were far in the distance on the edge of a ridge. The Kid whistled – the shooting was faster and more accurate than anything the Kid had ever seen from Heyes – or almost anyone else but himself. Heyes whirled around, holding the pistol he had just emptied so impressively.
"Kid, damn it, don't sneak up on me like that!" Heyes yelled. "I could've shot your fool head off!"
"Not unless they've invented a seven-gun!" laughed the Kid. "You sure got those bullets on their way mighty fast! And hit everything you were shooting at! I didn't think you ever bothered to keep in shooting practice."
"Well, not so much when we were riding together. Had enough to do with planning and keeping in shape on locks and cards and figuring up stresses for the dynamite. But these days I got to watch my own back, so I figured I better get as good as my poor slow right hand will let me."
"And whose fault is that?" The Kid didn't like it to sound like he had deserted Heyes.
"Mine, Kid, all mine. I sure know that. If I weren't such a damn fool for studying, I'd have been back with you a year ago, watching your back. I'm right sorry about that, Kid. Hope you can forgive me." Heyes did sound pretty regretful.
The Kid made a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it, Heyes. You got enough to worry about, and so do I. Why don't you come over to Cavanaugh's place with me? It's pretty near lunch time – and you know what a good cook he is. One of Cavanaugh's good lunches'll be much better than jerky out of our packs!"
As they walked down the trail to Cavanaugh's place, the Kid wondered how school was going for Heyes. He never reported back on how he did on exams or papers or anything like that. The Kid wondered if Heyes was having a very hard time with his classes. It would sure make sense if he was – since he didn't exactly come from an academic background. It would help to explain why Heyes seemed to study every minute that he wasn't riding Clay – or enjoying himself with Valerie. Heyes' days were spent mostly up in his room with his books and papers. Later in that first week two crates of books arrived at the train station and Heyes hauled them back to Christy's in the wagon. He put them to good use. As the summer went on he was often back and forth to the post office and the telegraph office. Joshua Smith arranged with Professor Homer and Professor Hargrove to do jury-rigged correspondence courses in advanced geometry and American literature. More books arrived, and papers were posted off to New York. His partner worked, as Thaddeus Jones often observed, like a very devil.
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A few days after Heyes' arrival, Cat fixed a particularly nice dinner for the boys, but Heyes didn't show. Cat was concerned. She climbed the stairs to his room and knocked softly. He didn't answer. She opened the door, cautiously and looked in. There in the lamplight, was Heyes leaned over his little desk – fast asleep. Cat looked at him and smiled, but it was a worried smile.
"Heyes!" she called softly. He woke with a start and smiled apologetically at Cat. "You're late for dinner! Aren't you hungry?" she asked.
"I sure am!" said Heyes, "Feel like I could eat a bear! Been at the books all day and I think I forgot lunch."
"You did," said Cat. "Come on down now and get some dinner while it's hot."
Heyes stood up slowly and stretched. "Ugh!" he grunted in pain and moved cautiously. He was walking very slowly, as if every step hurt him.
"You know, Heyes," Cat said gently, "Kid told me about your shooting. And your riding. And here you are studying all day every day. You can't be brilliant at everything all to once, you know. It just ain't reasonable! If you're gonna be all wonderful at your school subjects, you got to let something else go. You don't have to be a cowboy and a scholar, too."
"Yeah, I do," answered Heyes in a growl, "long as those God-damned posters about us are up all over. I got to be ready to shoot and to ride just as good as ever, if somebody comes for me. And when I'm here, I got to be up to watching the Kid's back, and yours."
"Have it your way, Heyes, but come on down and have some food, will you? I worked hard on that roast and those beans and those biscuits! They'll be all spoiled if they have to wait for you!" Cat shook her head over the very sore Heyes as he limped down the stairs. In a week or two, she guessed the kinks would be out. But he was a very uncomfortable man right now – in more ways than one.
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Later in the summer, Heyes and the Kid went riding together often in the mountains around Louisville. One day as they were cresting a ridge and enjoying the spectacular view of the high peaks all around them, the Kid noticed something about Heyes.
Curry observed, "Heyes, you've had your nose buried in a book most of the summer. It must be hard on the eyes. You having trouble seeing? You're kind of squinting."
"'Course not, Kid," answered Heyes brusquely. "The sun was just in my eyes."
"No, it wasn't, Heyes," said the Kid. "The sun's behind you. And I've seen you squinting before."
"You're imagining things, Kid," said Heyes.
But later that day, back at Christy's Place, Heyes was trying to read the restaurant specials on the board at the far end of the big room and he was squinting again. The Kid caught him at it. "I'm not imagining things, am I?" he said.
Heyes rolled his eyes, but he had to admit. "No Thaddeus, you're right. Most of the time it doesn't make any difference, but when things are really far away, they're a little blurry. It's been that way for years, actually, but now it's a bit worse. I'm worried. If I have to sit in the back of a class, it's going to be hard to see the board. And if someone's trailing me, I could miss details. Damn!"
"There's a guy over in Boulder who might be useful to you, partner," said the Kid brightly, "Eye doctor and glasses maker. One of the mine owners told me about him. Says he's very good. Actually, I was thinking. You said you were gonna try maybe to do a bit of a disguise back in New York – what about glasses? Who'd look for H . . . you, in glasses?"
Heyes looked seriously annoyed, but he grumblingly admitted, "Well, it couldn't hurt to go over to the guy and get him to look at me, I guess."
Two weeks later, Heyes was outfitted with stylish gold wire rims. He didn't wear them around Christy's place, but he had them ready in a case for use back in New York. He hoped they might divert suspicion. He also hoped they would help him to see!
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Heyes' hair was getting much too long, even for his taste, so he asked the Kid. "Who cuts your hair around here? I don't want you to do it like you used to, you butcher!"
The Kid grinned. "Well thanks, partner, for all your confidence! Cat does it for me now. Does a nice, neat job I think. And doesn't take too long at it, either. Curly hair is harder to get right, you know. At least that's what Cat always says"
"She's right! I ought to know – remember how I used to do it for you?" laughed Heyes.
"And you called me a butcher!" teased the Kid. "What I did to your hair was revenge, partner, pure revenge!"
So Heyes went to Cat as she was starting dinner and asked her if she could help him out with his hair in the next few days. Cat looked critically at Heyes' long brown locks. "Sure, Heyes. Tomorrow after breakfast let's get you set up in the back room on a bar stool. That's how I do the Kid."
So the next morning Cat put an old sheet around Heyes and started trimming. His hair had gotten way beyond his collar in the back. Heyes instructed her, "Please make sure it's still long enough to cover the scar, and you know I like it long, but I don't want it as long as yours! Which it just about is! I could put it in a pony tail like a girl."
As she was finishing off, trimming Heyes' side burns, Cat asked, "You want me to leave the grey here?"
"The what!?" Heyes' world was shaken.
"You meant you hadn't noticed? I guess the long hair covered it up before. You've got a few grey hairs in your side burns – see here and here." She held up the mirror for the Heyes to see. He looked at his own reflection in horrified fascination. Cat tried to soothe Heyes' wounded dignity, but she just made it worse. "Looks kind of distinguished, I think – if anyone noticed at all. There's only a dozen or so hairs on each side, unless you let too much side burn grow out. The farther it goes down, the greyer it is. If you grew a beard, it would have a lot of grey in it, I bet. I could pull those few grey hairs out easy, but they do say if you pull out grey hairs that more grow back."
"Oh gee, I'm getting old," moaned Heyes, "and I haven't even finished my first degree!"
"First?" Cat caught him in a slip, "You're going for more than one college degree?"
"Whoops!" Heyes ducked in embarrassment. "Don't tell the Kid, please. We don't even know if this degree will work out – if I can even stay out of prison. But if I can finish the BA, yes; I'll need an MA to do what I want to do."
"And what might that be, since you're in the mood to talk," teased Cat.
"No dice!" Heyes shook his head firmly, scattering bits of freshly cut hair around the back room. "You and the Kid would just laugh at me. I'm not telling you until I know if I can really do it. The qualifications I'm getting will let me do a lot of things, like I told you before. But I got to admit, I've got something special in mind - kind of pay back to this country for having put up with me when I was such a . . . . detriment. Haven't even told my advisor yet. I want him to tell me before I tell him, and seems to me, he just might. A few grey hairs might even help. We'll see."
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As the summer drew towards its close, Heyes was paying close attention to his New York correspondence for very different reasons than the demands of his "correspondence" classes. He and Dr. Leutze, in particular, were consulting about the risks that might be awaiting Heyes. It was terribly difficult to say whether Officer Tryon was still staking out the farm on Long Island and whether his friends in Manhattan and other boroughs were still paying him any mind. Any direct investigation of the matter would tip off the law that someone cared. But Leutze could, at least, keep a sharp eye on some of the enormous array of newspaper available in New York. He saw no articles mentioning the sighting of or hunt for Hannibal Heyes.
"So, you gonna go back to school in New York, Heyes?" Asked the Kid at last. "Couldn't you study here? There's that new university over in Boulder."
"No, Kid. Frankly, they don't have anyone on my level in math, from what I hear, much less good enough to teach me anything. No one west of Chicago can match what I can get in New York. And Columbia's where I have my scholarship. If I tried to go someplace else, I'd have to pay full price, which I can't do unless I get a whole lot of extra cash. I wouldn't want to ask our friends for any more – it'll take me years to pay them back as it is. And any new university would look into my background all over again – not a real cheerful thought."
"So, even knowing that guy on Long Island is probably still there, you're going back?" The Kid was worried, and not only about Heyes.
Heyes' eyes were full of concern. "Yeah, I guess I kind of have to. They're expecting me at Columbia. How can I explain if I don't show up? And everything will probably be fine. Except . . . you know. . ."
The Kid asked, "No, what?"
"You mean who . . ."
"Oh." The Kid was startled. Heyes hadn't mentioned Beth at all since he had arrived, even indirectly like this. He hadn't even acknowledged the problem until now. "You've gotten through woman problems before, Heyes."
"Not like this. But I'll manage. If only I don't have to go back to the clinic."