Dr. Leutze walked into Professor Homer's apartment, where he had become one of a strangely assorted little community around the out of place former outlaws. He had in his hand a bunch of slips of paper – telegrams from Heyes' backers on, or formerly on, the wrong side of the law. One and all were relieved to have the message relayed to them that he was alive. One and all promised to continue with support. Heyes smiled as he read the messages. He was standing, leaning a bit on Beth, who was helping him to make the transition from crutches to a cane.

"Thanks, Doc. I hope it's not too much of a risk, but I couldn't afford to lose all my backing when they thought I was six feet under." Heyes turned to Beth, "Come on, honey. One more time to the end of the hall and back, then I've got to rest." Beth smiled into his warm brown eyes. The two felt closer by the day, as Heyes worked with his former tutor and new girlfriend to prepare for school. He had an awful case of cabin fever, but hadn't dared to limp down the stairs to the street yet.

Just then, Jim and the Kid came in the door, laughing together. "What won't they think of next in this city?" exclaimed the Kid. "That big bronze lady is about the most amazing thing I've ever seen. Who would think of that?" He and Jim had been exploring the city together despite the continuing winter cold. Ever since the Kid had dressed Jim down, the young New Yorker had taken the western gunman as a kind of mentor. Heyes was jealous of their adventures, but he had plenty to keep him busy right there in the apartment.

The Kid knew that every day he stayed in New York was a risk, but he kept finding another excuse not to leave, like "I got to see that Brooklyn Bridge before I go, Heyes. You told me all about it and I got to see it and tell Cat." He had honestly been waiting for his arm to heal up so he could defend himself as safely as possible, and so he would be harder to recognize. But, despite never saying it, he was also waiting for something else.

Heyes was working frantically at a pile of books to prepare for the coming spring semester. At least Heyes hadn't had to go to campus to meet with his advisor, since he was living with him. That gave him an extra couple of days to let his hip recover. By now, his voice was all recovered as well. But Heyes just prayed that no one at school had figured out the connection between those newspaper headlines and their friend Joshua Smith. Before he went to school and met with his friends there, he had held a little meeting of friends at the Homers' apartment.

"Alright," he said to the Homers, the Kid, Jim, Dr. Leutze, and Beth, "the story is, I got sick and hurt out west and stayed there until this Thursday. I was in Colorado and came out on the train and arrived Thursday – alright?"

"Alright Heyes, we heard you," said the Kid, "We'll keep the story straight." He and Heyes had worked out so many plans of such complexity that he felt kind of condescended to. But the others weren't so used to working out elaborate lies as the Kid and Heyes were.

On the day before the first classes of the spring semester, Heyes limped up the steps of the classroom building and into the hall in a pretty fair state of dread and a lot of pain. He was hoping that no one connected Smith to Heyes. And he had foolishly tried leaving his cane at the Homers' place, hoping he could make it on his own. After climbing that many stairs up from the street to the main floor, he was seriously regretting this decision. He stood for a moment just inside the lobby door, panting and sweating.

"Hey, Kansas, which one of us do you think is on top this semester?" yelled Paul Huxtable down the hall at the friend he hadn't seen in a month and a half. Heyes looked up in surprise – he had actually forgotten all about the academic standings race. "Co'mere, Smith," called the Missouri Kid. "They're about to post the standings. Hurry!" They could hear the crowd down the hall gathering around the bulletin board.

"I can't hurry, Missouri," Smith yelled back, as he limped down the hall, leaning against the wall to keep from falling.

"What the hell happened to you, Kansas?" asked Huxtable in concern.

"Fell off my horse out West. Hurt my hip pretty bad," Heyes was gasping between steps.

"Gosh, you sure did. Is that why you missed winter session?" Heyes nodded, too out of breath to speak. Huxtable, seeing how badly his friend was limping asked, "Can I help?"

Heyes was about to say that the Missouri Kid was too short for him to lean on, but it looked like his young friend had grown at least an inch in just a couple of months. "Maybe," said Smith. He put an arm over his young friend's shoulder to lean on him. That way he was able to get to the outer rim of the crowd around the math department bulletin board just in time for Professor Homer and the dean to post the list.

Everyone craned to see whose name was at the top. There was a collective gasp. "A tie!" cried Ev Carter, "A tie between Huxtable and Smith!" A big cheer went up – both men were well liked and respected by most of their classmates. Only a few sulky beaten out rich boys, like the haughty aristocratic Aldy Clarksdale and his pal Treadwell and their supporters, looked at all upset.

Once the crowd of math students broke up, Smith and his three closest pals made their way to their favorite bar, moving unusually slowly so Smith could make it. He had an arm around the shoulders of Ev and George as he went.

"What's the matter, Smith?" asked Everett Carter. "I thought you were coming back in time for winter session."

"Fell off my horse. Hurt my hip real bad. Been healing up." Heyes was nervous about how well he could keep fooling these young men who knew him so well – or thought they did.

"But I thought you rode so well?" said Neal George, "All those days riding in Central Park – and you still fell off that bad?"

"You're no horseman if you don't know that anyone can fall off. Actually, my horse shied and went under a low branch. I've been in bed all January healing up."

"Out West, or here?" asked NG.

"Out West. Got here just a few days ago. Too tough to travel, hurt that bad." Heyes hoped this aspect of the lie would help him to keep his story consistent – and to keep him far from any connection with that famous gunfight on the train. Heyes enjoyed catching up with his Columbia friends – it was good to hear about the wider world outside of the Homers' apartment. Heyes had only just moved back into his own place.

One day before he left New York the Kid decided to drop in on one of Heyes' classes. He was curious to find out about this other side of his partner's life. He chose one of Professor Homer's geometry classes, of course. It was on a Monday morning. The Kid, dressed in the new suit that Jim had arranged for him, arrived feeling that he looked almost like a student himself. Or he felt like he did – with no gun on his hip and wearing freshly polished shoes rather than boots. He tried to blend in with the crowd of bright young men gathered around the door, although they all stared at him curiously. The Kid kept looking around the crowd of students, but his partner was not among them. He even heard a student ask, "Where's Smith?" The Kid, wondering the same thing, filed in with the students and sat in the back, looking around the seats in front of him in search of Heyes.

Where was the man? He wasn't going to miss class, was he? And where was Professor Homer? Suddenly the Kid heard a very familiar voice, not softly from the seats but loudly from the front of the class room. Heyes wasn't in the class – he was teaching it.

It had taken the Kid a few minutes to spot his partner because he had started out with his back to the class as he wrote a bunch of frightening looking equations and geometric shapes on the black board along with an announcement that the Kid now read. It said that Professor Homer was ill and unable to make it to class, which the Kid knew was a lie, since he was still staying with the man, and that he had left Joshua Smith in charge. All the students knew Smith, of course, and it was clear that they had respect for him. There was only a brief moment of talking and laughter as they realized that a fellow undergraduate was in charge.

Heyes gave them a stern look, which quieted them, and then a grin. Smith's own special little group of friends, all of them in this class, looked up with particular interest. Smith had been a very shy and quiet guy when they first met him, and he had gained in confidence as the weeks went by and his aphasia, and his acquaintance with college life, improved. But for him to actually teach a class was taking his boldness and leadership to a whole new level in their eyes.

Heyes effortlessly projected his voice to the whole class. "Professor Homer's under the weather today, boys, so he left me in charge. Treat me well so we can get through all the material and maybe he won't be furious at you when he gets back." The students laughed.

"Or at you," said a tall student who looked to the Kid to be even older than Heyes.

"What makes you so special, Smith, that Homer leaves you in charge? You're nothing but an overgrown sophomore," called one of the boys in the front row.

"Excuse me, Johnson?" said Heyes coldly, with a piercing look at the recalcitrant student. The Kid knew that tone of voice and that look - he had seen many a tough outlaw quickly wilt when faced with them. Johnson fell silent and there was a ripple of uneasy laughter from the class. No one else seemed to have any doubts about why Homer would have chosen Smith, his prize student, for this duty.

"Pull out your homework and let's see how you did," began the rookie teacher. "Any problems with it?"

"Yeah, Smith, that second ten had me puzzled," said one the younger students.

Heyes started writing on the board and began to go over the material as he wrote. He was limping heavily still from the bullet wound in his hip. But in no time, he had the puzzled student at the board teaching the rest of the class how to do the very problems that had caused him trouble only minutes before.

"What's wrong with your leg, Smith?" asked one of the students.

"Fell off my horse out West. You know how clumsy I am, boys." The class laughed, but they were back to serious math in seconds. From nearly the first instant that he was in front of the class, Joshua Smith had every single student hanging on his every word. He alternated effortlessly between real class material and quick comic lines that kept the mood light.

Was the Kid surprised to see his partner teaching a class with evident ease and powerful charisma? Not in the least. In fact, it all reminded the Kid very much of a planning and preparation session back at Devil's Hole – where Heyes had had a blackboard installed and had lectured to the gang in much the same style. The hand writing on the board was a lot neater now, but the clear words, easy demand of attention, joking to keep things lively, and sparkling eyes as the pacing young man explained things, were all absolutely familiar. It was kind of strange to see tidy young mathematics students hanging on his every word instead of the dusty Devil's Hole boys. The Kid now knew what Professor Homer was doing, pretending to be out sick. What he had guessed from hearing Marie Homer talk to Heyes about his future had been absolutely right.

After about a half hour, the Kid snuck out of the classroom and went back to Professor Homer's apartment, where the Professor was having an unusually leisurely breakfast and reading the morning paper. "Well, how's he doing?" he asked when the Kid came in.

"If he wasn't talking nothing but math in that squeaky-clean classroom, I'd have sworn he was back in Devil's Hole explaining a plan to the boys. And teaching them how to do it right, the way he always did. Except these guys are smart. They ask questions – and wow, what questions! And none of them throw him – not at all. How can he do it? He hasn't been well enough to read that math for long before class started. How does he know so much more than all the others do? How can he explain it all to them? He didn't know until this morning that he was going to teach, did he?"

Professor Homer laughed. "Do you really have to ask? You know him. He's gotten ahead of the class already. He's not just smart - he works really he doesn't just get the answers – he thinks about how and why and what would be the best way to explain it. He didn't need to know that he was going to teach – he's always been ready. I knew he could do it – I appreciate your spying on him for me to confirm that."

"No problem," said the Kid. But he sighed as he thought about the implications of what he had seen and heard. He knew that his partner was moving away from their old life together. He was likely to be around schools like this for the rest of his life. Probably he would be on the east coast, teaching. The Kid had to say it, feeling a strange combination of proud, excited, and broken hearted. "This is what he should do – he should be a college math professor like you. If the governor will just give us amnesty. Or if he can't see his way clear on me, maybe just Heyes 'cause of his studies."

The professor nodded. "Surely you'll both get amnesty – after all you've been through. Heyes is doing fine. More than fine in school, you know that. He's at, or right near, the top of the class always. That's despite the aphasia, which still bothers him, you know, especially in writing. I think he's been putting off telling you – he won't be home to Colorado when he's done with the BA. With results like he's been getting, he'll be accepted for the Master's program, no problem. He'll be here for two more years after that – or a little less if I know him – piling on the classes and acing them all - getting a graduate degree."

"Acing?" asked the Kid, who didn't know even this elementary academic slang.

"Getting all As. He always does. And at the MA level, he'd better. For an MA student, a C is a failure and a B is a disgrace. Then, if only we can get that amnesty for you guys, with a Master's degree he can teach almost anywhere they have a spot." Professor Homer sounded happy for Heyes, but his eyes looked sad – he knew that what he was saying was bad news to the Kid. Heyes would never really be his partner in the same way again. "Any school would kill to get him."

"If he doesn't get himself killed first," the Kid replied. Professor Homer didn't say it, but he knew that any school would want a teacher of Heyes' brilliance – but not one with a felony record. He wondered if any school would ever get past that.

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Heyes had moved back into his own room, but when he got back there after school, he found a note from "Thaddeus Jones" inviting him to dinner at the Homers' apartment. When Heyes arrived at Homer's place, he saw the Kid grinning at him, and Beth was there smiling, too. Heyes grinned with his teeth all showing in embarrassment and said, "So, you caught me at it, Kid. Now you know what I want to do. Go ahead and laugh. Professor Hannibal Heyes? Pretty ludicrous idea, isn't it?"

Beth put her arm around her man and didn't have to speak for him to know that she sure didn't think it was ludicrous.

The Kid wasn't laughing, although he did smile. "No, Heyes, it sure ain't. It makes all kinds of sense to me – just like it does to Professor Homer and Beth."

Heyes looked up, still with some anxiety on his face, "Really, Kid? You don't think it's silly? You aren't gonna laugh at me?"

The Kid looked proudly at Heyes. "Not hardly I think it would be stupid for you not to do it. Aw, Heyes, you ought to know I wouldn't laugh at you – not when it really counts. I've seen you teach plans to the stupid guys at the Hole a thousand times – with smart guys, you could teach 'em anything." Heyes and the Kid had always taken great pride in each other's abilities and triumphs. This hadn't stopped when they went straight.

Heyes shook his head and he looked pretty serious, "Come on, nobody's gonna hire Hannibal Heyes the outlaw to teach college. Not in a million years."

The Kid clapped him on the back. "Come on yourself, what about Hannibal Heyes the former outlaw? Him they might hire."

Heyes gave a half smile, "I hope so, Kid. I sure do. What do you think, Charlie?"

Professor Homer smiled proudly at his protégé. "You know what I think, Heyes. I think you were born to teach. But whether anyone will let you, that's another matter. You better be ready to do something else, in case it takes a while for people to get past that name of yours."

"What about you, Marie?" asked the Kid. "Do you think Heyes should teach?"

Mrs. Homer looked very serious and the joking men grew quiet. "I hate to say it, gentlemen, but I know what it's like to train and study and be qualified to teach – and never get the chance. I hope a male ex-outlaw will do better than a female with no criminal record, but I don't know. And Beth knows, too."

Beth nodded. "I could never teach college, for the same reason," said Beth. "Why do you think I'm teaching at Dr. Leutze's place? It's a great job. But it wasn't my first choice, I have to admit."

"It ain't just, Marie, Beth, it sure ain't justice at all," said the Kid. "I know you two can teach rings around anyone – well, almost anyone." He smiled at Professor Homer, and then at Heyes himself.

Mrs. Homer tried not to look so grim as she spoke to first one reformed outlaw and then the other. "I'd be the last to deny that there's injustice in the world, Jed. But sometimes it gets better. So my advice, Heyes, is to do your best and never give up. You absolutely must never give you – you're too good. You hear me?"

"I hear you, Marie. I surely do," answered Heyes with a determined grin, and his arm around the always supportive Beth.

"Never give up, Heyes," Beth whispered in Heyes' ear, then gave him a kiss. She would be there to make sure that he kept the faith.

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Now that he had seen Heyes safely started back to school, the Kid was ready to take the train back to his home in the West. He wished he could have met Heyes' school friends, but they hadn't dared to show the two of them together to young men who must have read about Heyes and Curry and the gunfight.

Heyes bid the Kid farewell from his own room, not daring to go with the Kid to Grand Central Terminal, where he had last been carried on a stretcher while the news boys yelled about his supposed death.

"Go safely, Kid," said Heyes, giving his partner a bear hug. "And don't you dare go up to that place in Montana, Lodge Grass or whatever it is, where somebody pulled a job and blamed us. I'm not up to going up there yet, and don't you dare go up alone. And can't miss school again. You wait 'til the end of semester this summer and we'll go up together and straighten it out. Alright?"

"Alright, Heyes," promised the Kid. "We'll wait. Hasn't been anything on that story in the papers in a long time, so I guess it's safe to wait. Study hard, professor! And write to us as often as you can. I want to know what's going on out here."

"And you write back, or get Cat to do it. I want to know what's going on in Colorado," Heyes insisted.

"Sure, Heyes. Whatever you say," said the Kid. Then he picked up his saddlebags and a new bag to hold his New York clothes, and headed out the door. Heyes looked out the window after his partner for a long time – long after he had vanished into a cab headed to the train station. He was certainly going to miss having the Kid there to watch his back – and to be at his side.