When Beth came after work as usual to visit Heyes, she found him just settling back in after making a much longer walk with his crutches than he had the day before. He was still panting and sweating from the exertion with muscles recently unused to such exercise, but even more so from the continuing pain.
Beth brushed the hair back from Heyes' eyes with a tender gesture and gave him a kiss that he returned warmly. Then Heyes looked up to see the Kid grinning at him and he broke off the kiss abruptly. Heyes looked really annoyed at the Kid for staring at him in what should have been a private moment, but he didn't say anything. The Kid, still with what Heyes obviously saw as a mocking smile on his face, turned and left the guest room. Heyes wadded up a dirty handkerchief and threw it at his partner's retreating back. The limp rag fluttered to the floor before it reached Curry. Heyes stifled a curse. Seeing the tensions that sometimes built up between Heyes and Curry, Sometimes Beth wondered how these two men had ever spent so many years in such close proximity without shooting each other (at least on purpose). Heyes had never told her, though she could guess, that they had punched each other fairly regularly. And they had certainly passed countless smart remarks.
"I know, Heyes, it's frustrating never getting to be alone together," said Beth soothingly.
"It sure as h . . . it sure is," Heyes tried to avoid cursing around Beth, despite the fact that she was the very one who had taught him to curse again when he was recovering from aphasia.
"Then you'll be glad to know that Charlie and Marie are going to a play tonight - and they'll take Jed and Jim with them. No one will be left here but me and thee," Beth smiled fetchingly at Heyes. "And Marie said the nice fire chief next door can keep an eye out and make sure no one takes advantage of a woman and an injured man left alone together in New York City."
Heyes began to smile back at Beth, but then he looked out the still open door of the guest room and scowled towards where he could hear the voices of Marie Homer and the Kid laughing together. "So that's what the Kid was grinning like a fool about. And that's what he's in there giggling with Marie about, I guess. And it's probably what you and Marie were talking about yesterday," said Heyes angrily, "Why does everyone but me get to plan my . . . private life? What a joke! You and I don't have a private life." He picked up the handsome hard-cover first volume of Richard Burton's The Book of a Thousand Nights and a Night and flung it furiously against the wall above the Kid's sofa.
Beth drew back as if Heyes had struck her.
Heyes stared at her in fury, "And you . . ." But then he put his head in his hands. "Christ, I'm sorry Beth. I don't know what gets into me, sometimes. I didn't mean to be ungrateful to you – to the Homers, to the Kid. I just – when I get to be alone with you – really alone – I want it to be just right – and just us – in private. I don't want everyone to know what we do together. If you want to – I mean . . . Oh Christ, I'm sorry. I'm messing it up even worse, and probably every soul in the house listening in. Whoever said I had a silver tongue was a fool. You go with them to the play and leave me here alone like I deserve."
"Oh, Heyes," said Beth, "I do understand that it's hard. The Kid always says, 'Heyes is used to being in charge.'"
"Well, I'm never in charge of anything anymore," grouched Heyes, "and what are you the Kid doing talking about me and my private business?"
"Heyes," and Beth, and then she started to laugh. Heyes stared at her for a moment and then he started to laugh, too.
When Heyes' laugher slowed enough for him to speak, he said, "What's that you said when I was first studying with you and I couldn't hardly say anything – 'just lean on your sense of humor?'"
"Yes, Heyes. I'm starting to think it applies all the time."
"Oh, honey!" said Heyes, putting his arm around Beth, "I do love you an awful lot. If you don't mind having everyone know that you'll be spending the evening alone with me, I guess I don't either - 'cause I want you and I want you now." He put his arms around her and gave her such a kiss and then another one and then another one that Beth was afraid he really wasn't going to wait until that night to do what he didn't want everyone else seeing and talking about. But he finally chuckled and shook his head and let Beth get off the bed, though he reached up to get one final kiss as she stood up and shook out her dress.
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The Homers took the Kid and Jim with them out to dinner and then to the theater to see Henry IV. It was an edited version that combined both parts of the play into one. The Kid was surprised to find so much of a Shakespearean play set in a tavern. He found the dialog a bit hard to follow, not being used to Shakespearean English, but he soon got well involved in the lively plot.
As they were on their way back to the Homers' apartment late that night, after a brief midnight supper after the play, very consciously leaving Beth and Heyes plenty of time, Jim found himself walking the last couple of blocks from the cab where the Homers were waiting. He was going back to his own place with the Kid, in his new eastern suit, at his side.
"G-g-gosh, K-K-Kid," said Jim, "Who'd have thought that the future K-K-King of England would be a th-th-thief. J-J-Just like you."
"Watch your mouth, boy!" whispered the Kid angrily, looking around at all the windows that could have listening people behind them. "Use my alias or nothing. You want to give us away to the whole damn city?"
"Oh, n-n-no one's listening this t-t-time of night, K-K-Kid," laughed Jim.
The Kid put his hand on Jim's slight shoulder and stopped the young man in his tracks. He turned to face Jim. "Jim, we're going up those stairs to your place and you're going to listen to me and you're going to listen real, real well."
Jim's eyes got very large and he just nodded. When then they got up to the "Smith Brothers' Place," the Kid went in with Jim and addressed his young host in a very intense, low voice.
"Jim, that's twice that you've disobeyed a direct order from me. And those were orders about things that could put a bunch of lives in real danger – including mine and yours. And Heyes says you've ignored his orders, too. He is really, really not happy with you."
Jim didn't say a word. He just swallowed and stared up at the Kid, who was much taller than he was, and whose face was dark with anger.
"This is damn serious, boy! Do you know what would happen to you in almost any gang in the West if you behaved that way?" Jim shook his head.
"A bullet in the back, that's what. And long before now. Anyone who endangers the gang that way doesn't live long." The Kid knew this well.
"And in the D-D-Devil's H-H-Hole?" asked Jim, his voice shaking a little.
"I think you know - Heyes never ordered any man killed. But he did have them beat up real bad and thrown out of the gang – left in real bad places where they might not live to get away."
"R-R-Really? Heyes d-d-did that?"
"Yeah, Jim. More than once. And do you know who did the beating?"
"Heyes?"
"No. He might have wanted to, but he had better sense than that.
Or he did mostly. Just once, when he first took over at Devil's Hole, before I joined up, he beat up a guy himself - a guy who didn't take orders well. Big Jim, the guy who led the gang before Heyes did, had warned him that a leader should never get involved in hammering a guy himself. But Heyes was young – maybe your age – and he hadn't learned that lesson yet. So he beat up a guy himself, just before the bunch rode off to do a job. They pulled off the whole thing perfectly, all the hard stuff Heyes had planned and everything. Took a lot of chances – men could have been killed. And Heyes got to the safe – he couldn't blow it – had to do it with the tumblers. But he couldn't do it. His hands had gotten bruised up when he was beating up the fool who'd disobeyed orders. Heyes' hands had swollen up so much that he couldn't do a damn thing with that safe. The whole gang had to just ride home again, after all the way they'd come and the all their work. After all the risks they had taken, they had to go empty handed. Because Heyes had tried to carry off everything himself – wanted to be a God damned hero.
So you know who did a lot of the beatings Heyes ordered, after that?" Jim shook his head "Me. Do I have to do one more now, Jim?" The Kid gave Jim a look that nearly froze his blood. He held the young man's gaze and watched him look utterly terrified for a good two minutes straight.
"Alright, Jim, have you learned your lesson? Are you going to stop trying to be a God damned hero? What's it going to be, Jim? Are you going to be respectful of Heyes, and me?" Jim nodded, with his eyes as big as saucers.
"I'm s-s-sorry, Thaddeus." said Jim solemnly. "I'll t-t-take orders. You c-c-can c-c-count on me."
"Alright, Jim. Then we can keep on knowing you. Heyes said he was just about through with you and I was with him. We felt like you wanted to be a hero more than you wanted to keep your friends alive. But if you promise to listen, and forget the hero stuff, you can still be our friend. Alright?" Jim nodded very slowly.
"Yes." Jim said simply.
The Kid ruffled his young friend's hair, and went down the steps to go back to the Homer's place. When got back to where the Homers' cab was waiting, the Kid looked at Charlie Homer and smiled.
"I think I might have gotten through to him. I sure hope so," said Kid Curry. "I had to lie a bit to do it, though. I told him that I beat up guys for Heyes. Really, I almost never did. Some other guys had to do it. Like Heyes had to keep his hands all pretty for safe cracking, I had to keep my hands in perfect shape like I still do – for shooting." Professor Homer looked at the Kid's cool blue eyes and felt a shiver run down his spine.
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That night, after Beth had fixed Heyes and herself a nice dinner and cleaned the dishes, the pair was sitting together on the guest bed, holding hands. Beth looked at Heyes' hands. "Your hands are beautiful, you know, Heyes. After all the time you've spent out west in the sun and the wind and riding horses, I wouldn't expect them to be so smooth."
"Actually, Beth, I try to keep them in good shape. The Kid and I wear gloves whenever we can, out West. Our lives often depend – or did depend – on those hands."
"I can guess why," she said. Heyes saw a little shiver of fear in Beth's eyes, but it warmed into a smile.
Heyes looked away from her for a moment, looking very uncomfortable, while still holding her hand. "But I'm afraid that's about the only part of me that's in that good shape. I hope scars don't bother you - because I've got a lot of them."
"That's been worrying you, hasn't it, Heyes? That your scars would frighten me? Well don't worry." Beth tried to keep her voice very steady, not to show any fear of this man with his terribly violent past. His past that, as he had said, tended to follow him.
"Yeah, it has worried me. It's bothered some girls."
Beth gently caressed Heyes' hands and started to feel her way up his arms. She didn't shy away at all as she got to the raised bands of scars around his wrists. "Tell me, what caused these?"
"Being tied up in raw hide – and getting out again. Only way to do it is to reduce the circumference – and the only way to do that is to give up the skin." Heyes sounded terribly cool about it.
"That must hurt horribly." Beth kissed his scared wrists.
Heyes redirected her lips up to his. When his mouth was free again he went on, "Yes. And so does getting shot. You sure those marks won't bother you?"
"I'm sure." Beth smiled wickedly at that.
Heyes laughed, "Alright, girl." He leaned toward her and started on her buttons, gently kissing her neck, and then went a little lower with the next button . . .
"I don't want to hurt your hip, Heyes." Beth asked softly, sneaking a hand up under Heyes' shirt to caress his naked back and find the first of those scars.
"Don't worry. . ," Heyes breathed between kisses.