Heyes jimmied Wiseman's primitive lock and tip-toed through the door of the cabin in the dark, carrying his boots to avoid making too much noise. It was a vain hope.
"Who k-k-kicked me?!" howled Jim from his bedroll near the cabin door.
"Sorry," Heyes whispered.
"Would you shut up? I've got to be up at dawn, and I'm guessing maybe you all do too!" Wiseman moaned.
"Sorry!" whispered Heyes and Jim almost together.
"Since we're all awake, we might as well get the story, Heyes," said the professor in a low voice. He, being closest to the fire, sat up and picked up a poker. He stirred the fire so that its soft red glow illuminated the four men and they felt a bit warmer in the cool Montana night.
Heyes spoke just above a whisper as he climbed into his own bedroll, wishing he had a softer place to sleep. "You guys have been doing a great job and then I went and wasted it. I tracked MacAvoy to a little cabin north of town – where he was meeting his gal for a roll in the hay! But when I got back to Lodge Grass, a woman was riding in from the north and she went in the back of the saloon. So maybe she's coming back from where the Kid is? Don't know."
"You sure it wasn't the woman MacAvoy was meeting, coming back into town?" asked a yawning Wiseman.
"I thought of that!" Heyes sounded a little defensive. "But there was some lamp light when this gal went into the saloon and I got a peek at her – she was a blonde, tall for a woman – maybe five foot seven or so. I didn't get much of a look at the reporter's squeeze in the dark and through the curtains, but she was dark haired and shorter than this blonde."
"What do you want us to do, Heyes?" asked Charlie Homer.
Heyes, yawning, sat up in his bedroll and thought for a moment before he spoke. "Can you two go back into town and sniff around some more? I hate to ask it, but as soon after dawn as you can."
"Sure, Heyes," said Jim and the professor nodded. They weren't going to hold back their help now, no matter how sleepy they were.
Heyes went on, "You guys are the best! I don't know what the Kid and I are ever going to do to thank you, all three, but something good."
"Try st-st-staying out t-t-trouble for five minutes straight!" suggested Jim.
"And really getting amnesty and finishing your degrees!" added Charlie Homer.
"And lettin' me do a poem about you guys - and not suin' me for it!" chimed in Wiseman.
"I'll do my best for all three and try to get the Kid to go along," said Heyes with a laugh, "but that first one has always been real hard for us to manage! And first, we got to get the Kid free."
"Right!" agreed Homer, "but meantime, we got to get some sleep. So if you can get along with giving us our orders for the morning, maybe we can get a few hours snooze before the sun comes up. I guess you can sleep in."
"Not likely!" snorted Heyes. "Like I said, if you both can get back to town in the morning as early as you can manage, it might be real helpful. If someone's taking food and stuff to the Kid, they'll probably go morning and evening - unless someone's always there. The sooner we find the Kid, the better, so if we can spot that morning run, all the better. I'd really like to go into town myself to see if I can spot this blonde woman . . ."
"No, Heyes!" said Homer. "I mean it! If you get hauled in or shot, all our work's for nothing!"
Heyes signed. "You ain't my father, but alright. I didn't get much of look at her in the dark under that long cloak, anyway. I told you she's tall. And kinda thin and wore her hair up but it was coming down and trailing out of her hood. Not much to go on in a saloon where, with the usual bleach jobs, they probably have a bunch of blondes. If you can possibly hear of a woman who's been seen going out, or has a lover in the newspaper business, or is in love with the sheriff or the deputy – well, you can figure the combinations. And more of the same snooping. Just listen and prod a little. And watch out the window for that sheriff and that deputy! If one of them rides north of town, or anyplace kind of sneaky, come back and let me know, one of you. If you find anything, go round about and get back here without leading anyone in after you. I'll be waiting, ready to ride!
Now, we all got to get back to sleep or you'll be falling off your horses in the morning. North! We got darn little to prove that's the way, but seems it might be right. Poor Kid, waiting for us! I just hope, boys, that . . ." Everyone knew what he meant- he hoped that the Kid wasn't already dead. Wanted dead or alive surely did hold out that possibility.
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooo
The professor and Jim arrived in town only a few minutes apart at about 7:00 – later than they wanted, but earlier than they felt like. It meant that both had had to wake up before 5:00, an hour before the sun was up. The Professor, still yawning, rode out to the road north of town and found the same shed and bunch of trees where Heyes had hidden. He watched the road and nibbled on a piece of jerky, his very early breakfast at Wiseman's cabin having been all too cursory.
Meanwhile Jim feasted on bacon and hash browns and eggs in the saloon. The girls who worked there hadn't come down yet – it was far too early for such night workers to be up. So Jim hadn't seen anyone who could be the mysterious blonde woman. He sat near the window, trying to keep an eye on the road and sheriff's office, which was across the street, without being obvious about it. Not long after Jim started to dig into his generous second breakfast, a familiar form barged through the swinging doors into the saloon and loudly demanded breakfast. It was, unmistakably, the drunk and disorderly who had been sleeping it off in the cage in the sheriff's office when Jim had been there the day before.
"What that boy's having looks good – get me some of that! Eggs and bacon and those potato things!" the big, overweight, graying man yelled to the bar keep who was doing duty as a waiter for the sparse morning crowd.
The loud-mouthed customer's accent, which Jim hadn't heard when he had been asleep in jail, sounded terribly familiar to Jim. Fortunately, he didn't have to ask about it. An out of town reporter Jim had met yesterday who was leaning on the bar downing a stack of flap-jacks and a steak asked what Jim was wondering. "Where you from, man? I'm just in from Butte, myself. Ain't heard anybody talk like you before."
"Boston!" answered the big man, who was eagerly looking towards the kitchen in search of breakfast. "Was in the newspaper business and thought I'd come out West to see if I could make a go of it here."
Hawes, the saloon owner, stepped out of the kitchen with the Boston man's plate in his hand. When he saw the customer, he stopped and glared. Hawes' his green eyes fairly sparking with fury beneath a mop of red hair that perpetually stood on end, from what Jim had seen, shouted. "Bentley! Eat your eggs, pay us, if you can, and get out of here! After what you did to Jeffers and the Trumpet, I ought to toss you out without breakfast, but I don't want customers to think I got no respect for people who pay their bills. If you do!"
"I can pay!" snarled Bentley, between forking his breakfast into his mouth. "If you don't believe me, ask my son!" He gestured toward the sheriff's office across the street. Jim searched his memory to see if anyone had ever mentioned the deputy's name to him – the man did look a bit like a younger and much less burley version of Bentley. At that moment, the door to the kitchen swung open for a moment as Hawes turned and went back to his work, still fuming. Before the door shut, Jim caught the briefest glimpse of a tall, slender, blonde woman putting food into a bucket. A few minutes later, Jim saw through the back window that the woman, clad in a dark cloak against the dark chill, was riding away with the lidded bucket tied behind her saddle. She was on the road that went north out of town.
Jim was hardly done with his breakfast yet, but he plunked down the appropriate coins on the table and walked to the door, hardly resisting the urge to run. "Where you going, Hoines?" called the bartender after him.
"Sick friend!" said Jim as he left, only belatedly realizing that this was utter nonsense for a man from out of town. This outlaw stuff wasn't as easy as it seemed!
Jim untied his horse and mounted up faster than he had ever yet done. He rode north. Shortly he passed the shed and trees where the professor was keeping vigil. Jim heard his name whispered urgently and he stopped.
"Jim!" said the professor softly as he stepped out from behind the trees. He looked up at his young friend still on horseback. "Did anyone see you leave the saloon a bit too quick?"
"Yeah! They all did." admitted Jim, talking so fast there was hardly time to stutter, "The guy I saw in jail yesterday is a newspaper man from Boston, father of the deputy, and he's the guy who drove the T-T-Trumpet out of business! Just after he got in the saloon, that blonde woman rode off with breakfast!
"Thought so – let me tail her," ordered Professor Homer, "You go get Heyes. We got 'em dead to rights this time. But there's got to be a lock or two involved, and maybe a gun or two, so we need Heyes."
"Alright!" Jim whispered, and turned his horse to the east toward the Crazy N Ranch. He rode off at a gallop. The professor mounted up and rode off to the north at a far more cautious pace. Trailing a person in broad daylight in fairly open country wasn't always easy! He was just glad for the bits of woods and bushes here and there. Also, the day was clouding over fast. It was an unusually warm May morning with breezes stirring often; it seemed like a thunderstorm might come up any time. This could be all to the good, thought the professor as he rode north.
Jim found Heyes trotting on the road into town, leading a spare horse. He was about half way to Lodge Grass by the time Jim found him. The two pulled off the road behind some tress and Jim quickly told Heyes what he had seen and heard in the saloon that morning.
Heyes kept his voice soft but practically growled, as if the big Boston man was right there to hear his anger, "Conspiracy between the law and the press! I knew it! Hate 'em both. Boston – must have friends there still so he knew as soon as I was 'resurrected.' Little conspiracy got going soon as he heard – once the first time he tried in November didn't fetch us up here. Came out West to try his luck – bet it was bad luck. He's in debt and wants $30,000.00 to pay it off and maybe live real nice afterward! Yeah, it all adds up. Wonder who the girl is, though."
Jim just nodded. It was no surprise to him that Heyes and the Kid had no warm feelings for the press and the law. It told him a lot about what life was like on the other side of the law. Those two forces that most people felt were on their side, or at least should be, were decidedly not working on behalf of these two men.
Heyes set off to the north at a trot to get a little distance between himself and Jim. The two had to separate so people wouldn't see "Joshua Smith" with Jim "Hoines." He asked Jim to wait a few minutes before he followed – to the gratitude of Jim's horse, which was a bit winded. It was an exercise in patience for Jim just to walk for so long, knowing the Kid was probably somewhere up that road. Both Jim and Heyes were anxious, guessing that the Kid was not in very safe circumstances. Dark clouds continued to gather overhead and the wind shifted uneasily.
Jim had time to think as he rode, wondering at how he ever got involved in a real Hannibal Heyes plan – and could get caught in the danger, too. Things had seemed just fun before, but now they were serious. Locks and guns, the professor had said. That was Heyes territory for sure – and territory where Jim felt uncertain and frankly frightened. Yet he was thrilled, too. He wished he dared to tell any of his other friends about this adventure – but he guessed that talking about it to Heyes and Beth and Dr. Leutze would be enough. But most of all, he worried about the Kid. What was he going through? Not, apparently, being starved, and maybe not beaten. But the Kid, wherever they had him locked up, must be uncertain and frightened and apart from all his friends. Jim couldn't wait to see him and help everything be alright again – if they could.
A half hour later, Heyes saw the professor riding ahead of him. As he got within ear shot, Heyes used a little yip to urge his horse on. The professor looked back and saw him. Heyes gestured for Homer to slow down so he could catch up. As Heyes caught up he whispered, "What's the news?"
Charlie answered in a very low voice, "Straight and true on this faint path – she and I guess other people, too, must go on this path every day, so you can follow it easy. She isn't keeping that good a look out, but she does look around some. She's maybe 150 yards ahead, more now I've slowed down."
"Good. I'll take over from here, if you can go back and check on Jim. He said he didn't exactly keep his fast exit a secret and I wouldn't be surprised if somebody might be on his tail. Keep that gun of yours handy, Prof. You might need it." Then Heyes spurred his horse ahead to catch up a bit to the blonde woman. Charlie turned and rode back down the trail carefully. He knew what Heyes was doing – he was careful of not just Jim's safety, but Charlie Homer's safety as well. There might be real danger up ahead if someone besides that blonde woman was watching Kid Curry. Heyes didn't want anyone but himself, and inevitably the Kid, to be exposed to that danger.
Before long, Heyes caught sight of the girl up ahead. She had taken off the cloak as the sun rose. She was riding astride in pants and rode well, but, as Charlie had said, she wasn't keeping too much of an eye out. She mostly looked ahead, eagerly, urging her mount to a faster walk. It was clear to Heyes that their destination was close.
Soon the blonde woman broke out of the trees that had been around the path and rode into a little clearing. It was easy for Heyes to take shelter behind the trees and watch. He dismounted and ground tied the horses well off the path and away from the clearing in a spot where there was some juicy undergrowth for them to browse on. That would keep them quiet, he hoped. Then he crept back to see where the woman was going.
In the clearing there was a group of buildings – it appeared to be the tumbled-down complex around an old mine entrance. The woman looked around, then went to someplace behind one of the more derelict buildings. It was impossible for Heyes to see or properly hear what was going on, but he heard what sounded like a click and perhaps two or just possibly three different muffled voices. One was surely the woman's and another was a man's. He could have sworn that the most muffled male voice was the Kid's – he couldn't hear the words or even the tone, but only the rhythm of the words. So it was only by knowing him so well that Heyes could guess at the speaker. Heyes wished he dared to creep closer, but there was no place where he could see what was going on, so far as he could tell, without exposing himself to view. So he just waited. It seemed like forever, but by his battered old pocket watch it was only about ten minutes before the woman returned to view. She turned back to where she had come from and said, "Good-bye! See you tonight!" This was followed by a couple of clinks, but no voice replied.
Heyes pulled back into the densest bushes and watched the woman ride away. A few minutes later, he heard two loud clicks and the creak of a door opening, followed by some kind of disturbance in the underbrush. Then there was the soft sound of a flowing liquid. Heyes smiled. He could guess what was going on – but was it the Kid peeing or his guard – or both? If it was just the guard, this would be the best time to strike, if it was the Kid, it could be the worst. Heyes took the opportunity to go to where the woman had gone before – the front door, he guessed. He crept carefully, peering around the corner of the falling down building behind which the woman had disappeared. Yes – there was a small shed there with no windows and a heavy wooden door. As Heyes got closer, he could see that it was locked with a large pad lock, but also a dead bolt. There was not going to be a way to open that quietly. He could hear the disturbance behind the building continuing. He dared to start to creep silently around the side of the building, but then he heard two sets of footsteps, a startlingly close male voice saying "Move along!" and then a door slamming and two dead bolts sliding shut. Heyes heart was pounding so hard he worried that the Kid's guard might hear it.
Heyes crept around the shack, looking at all sides. There was only one window – on the right side from the way he had first approached – with a heavy black shade on the inside covering it. Heyes couldn't look in that way, but whoever was inside could look if they pushed the shade back. So Heyes avoided it. He went back to the front door, which seemed like the easiest to open. But then he heard movement inside – so Heyes rapidly snuck around the other side of the building to get out of sight. He was just in time to avoid being seen by a man Heyes couldn't see but only hear who went out the front door, yelled back, "Just settle down, you!" and then closed the door, and locked the deadbolt and the pad lock. Then the man vanished into the mine complex, although Heyes could still hear him. Shortly, Heyes heard the man riding away by the same path on which Heyes had come. It was ominously silent inside the shed.
Heyes stayed around the side of the building for a few minutes waiting in silence. Would another guard appear, or had they left the Kid alone? It seemed terribly unlikely that three people were watching over him, though in a conspiracy of this size, it was possible. So Heyes waited and listened. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Heyes looked carefully around the whole old mine complex. There was no sign of any more people. He went back and checked on the horses and looked down the path. The horses were fine – and there was no sign of Charlie and Jim. That might be good or bad. Heyes would have to work alone and hope that no further danger was following. There was a growl of thunder overhead.
He snuck back over to the front door and knelt by it, pulling out his ring of pick locks – about 100 gleaming little slivers of carefully crafted steel that he had made himself, bending each to a different combination of curves and angles. He knocked on the door – two knocks and a pause, then two more knocks and a pause. He was answered by three carefully spaced, muffled thuds. His heart thumped almost as loudly. That was the Kid, for sure. That signal mean that he was alive and he was alone. "Whew!" Heyes breathed out in relief. He didn't dare to yell to the Kid, but there was no use. The Kid knew who it was outside.
But then Heyes took another deep breath. Nothing was certain yet. A tiny sound behind him made Heyes whirl around – it was only a first drop of rain striking a leaf. The long threatened rain was beginning. Thunder grumbled from the dark clouds that made it nearly as dim as evening.
Heyes knew he had to work fast. Someone could come any moment and rain might make things harder. He chose a pick lock from his set and tried it on the pad lock. There was a faint scrape that the Kid could probably here inside. Heyes thought he heard a dull sound – the Kid was moving around. This wasn't the right pick – Heyes chose another one, carefully keeping an eye and an ear out for anyone approaching. With the right tool, Heyes had the lock picked in seconds. Now on to the dead bolt. He tried a much longer pick on the knob. No luck. He tried another one. No – not quite right. The third one, with a bit of work, was successful. The dead bolt slid back with a loud click. Heyes stood, checked around yet again. He thought he heard something – it was only a rumble of thunder. And then the rain began, first a loud patter on the shed and the woods beyond, and then a rushing roar of falling water. Heyes jumped at a loud crack of thunder. Lightning flashed in the distance.
Heyes slid the door open with a creek. All was dark inside except for an empty semi-circle of light coming in the door. Then an awkward form crawled into the light – it was the Kid, tightly tied with thongs, and gagged. Heyes was inside in a second, pulled in the gag out of his friend's mouth. Before Heyes could say anything, he heard his friend start to speak and saw him look up. Not waiting for a full word, Heyes whirled around, drawing his gun and pulling the trigger in the same motion. It roared in his ears, another gun roaring at almost the same moment. Heyes could feel the close breeze of a bullet flying past him. It would have to have passed . . .
"Kid?" Heyes gasped.
"Fine!" said the hoarse but familiar voice. "But . . ."
Heyes looked out the shed door. The man who had stood only about ten yards away now lay silently in the pouring rain. It was so dark that Heyes, his gun cocked in his hand for a second shot, had to go out into the rain to see who it was and what condition he was in. Heyes stood over him and looked down at the still form, the man's gun hand – he left – lay in the mud. Heyes had never seen the man before, but he lay absolutely still. He was tall with long, dirty blonde hair. The description didn't match anyone Wiseman had told them about. It took a moment for Heyes, in the pouring rain and the darkness of the clouds, to find where his bullet had hit the man. Then he realized what had happened – his bullet had gone in the man's open mouth and taken off a good portion of the top of his head. The blood nearly blended with mud the man lay in. The heavy rain rapidly washed the flowing red away, but more kept coming. The soaked Heyes hugged himself and shivered in the sudden chill that had come with the rain. Then turned on his heel and went back into the shed to help the Kid.
"Dead?" asked the Kid, sitting very still in the dark shed.
"Yeah. Let's get those thongs off you, Kid," said his partner, leaning over his bound partner to start the untying.
There was a loud click. "No, let's leave them there," said an unfamiliar hoarse bass voice. Heyes looked out the door to see who was holding a gun on them. The dark haired man wore a tin star and a nasty dark scar ran down his neck. It was the deputy. "Hands up! Sit down Heyes, and let's get you tied up, too. Don't look for your friends to help you – got them both tied up on their horses back on the trail. A little wet for them, but they'll last. Can let them go when we've got you both turned in. Too bad Gunther didn't live to get his share of the thirty thousand, but it'll go farther for Pa and me. Think they'll up it for the murder charge, Heyes, before they hang you?"
Heyes, his heart in his boots, sat silently on the shed's dirt floor. All their cards had been played and the hand had lost. Bentley the deputy took Heyes' gun from his holster and tossed it out the shed's door. Then he leaned over Heyes with a strip of rawhide in his hand.
"I sure am sorry, Kid. I just didn't hear his horse or him, in all the rain," murmured Heyes to his partner.
The Kid grunted, "It's alright, Heyes. Whole thing's my fault. I was dumb enough to come up here when Lom told me about some poor lady he'd read about in the paper who lost her memory and was in trouble over us. All a lie – a damn lie. And I fell for it!"
"Shut up, both of you!" crabbed the deputy as he started to tie up Heyes' wrists. "Bad enough I got to bury my brother-in-law without having to do it in the pouring rain, and then go tell my sister about it! She won't be pleased with you, Heyes!"
Heyes' mind was racing, but no brilliant thoughts occurred to him.
A loud double click was audible over the thunder sounded just outside the shed door. "Hold it right there, Bentley," said Theron Wiseman, standing in the lightening rain, holding his rifle pointed in the door. "I got both barrels trained on you, so straighten up, hands up, and back away from that man real slow."
The deputy, growling low in his wounded throat, complied. "Thank you, sir!" said Heyes with real feeling, saluting in the poet's direction.
"I don't know who you are, but thanks from me, too!" said the Kid as Heyes pulled the gun from the deputy's holster.
Wiseman smiled under his dripping grey beard. "You're welcome boys. Kid, I'm Theron Wiseman, as Sean Bentley here knows right well. More I'll wait to tell you till we get away from this deputy gone bad."
Heyes picked up his own gun before it got too wet, then went back into the damp, dark shed to tie up the furious but silent deputy.
The Kid squirmed uncomfortably. "Tie him tight!" he said, "Now come get me loose!" Heyes hastened to do that very thing. He was quiet in embarrassment. Imagine, two outlaws being saved by a poet!
The Kid got to his feet clumsily, rubbing his sore wrists. "That sure is better, Heyes! Thanks. And thanks again, Mr. Wiseman!"
The two outlaws pulled the soaked dead body into the shed to lie, gun still in its hand, next to the tied up deputy. Bentley was visibly not pleased to be so close to the grisly object. Heyes took the deputy's badge off and handed it to Wiseman. It would help to convince the sheriff that he'd better ride out this way to get his deputy and arrest him.
The four men went off quickly to find where Charlie Homer and Jim Smith were sitting tied on horseback in the rain, which was letting up now. The light was coming back, reminding everyone that despite all that had happened during this eventful day, it was not yet noon.
"Charlie! Jim!" cried the Kid as he saw his friends sitting on their horses. "So you came out to rescue me, too! I surely am beholden to you, and to Mr. Wiseman, and to Heyes, as always."
"Not that we d-d-did much!" said an embarrassed Jim as the Kid untied his wrists and unhobbled his horse. "I was d-d-day d-d-dreaming I g-g-guess – that g-g-guy got the d-d-drop on me awful easy!"
"And on me, too. He's damn good!" said Charlie, "but I'm just glad to see you well, Kid. We've all been awful worried. And damn glad to see Theron come and rescue us all!"
"Hate to break up this old home week, boys, but we got to be riding," said Wiseman. "You head out to my place and get your stuff and ride back the way you came. I know I don't have to leave any key with you, since you got Heyes, here! He's already picked that lock once. I'll head into town and tell the sheriff that his deputy has been engaged in kidnapping – so to speak," his eyes sparkled at the awful pun, "Considerin' the lies that deputy's been publishing through his father's contacts with papers, I doubt anyone will believe him that Hannibal Heyes killed this man. It was sure self defense – obvious enough with the bullet in the wall and the gun in Gunther's hand. But who did it? If you boys get out of here fast, no one'll ever know but us. I'll clean up the legal end. You just let that sheriff friend of yours know. And Heyes, you better shave off that damned beard right quick – Bentley's gonna' give a new description of you!"
"You got it all figured, don't you, Wiseman?" said Heyes with a laugh. "Guess you earned your name! But now we got to ride. Good-bye and thank you!" He leaned from horseback to shake his poet's hand. The Kid followed suit, as did Jim and Charlie.
"Thanks, old friend," said Charlie. "You never did give us any poetry."
Everyone was laughing as Heyes, the Kid, and their new "gang members," rode off east through the woods.
But there was an awful guilty pain in Heyes' heart that he was sure would never go away. He kept seeing the wet, still face of the first man he had ever killed.