Heyes helped Huxtable to carry his pile of books up to his room to study. They started out close side by side on the sidewalk, with the Missourian trying not to wonder and worry too much about what had just happened. But soon it was impossible for the former outlaw not to realize that the math prodigy from Missouri was moving a bit to the side and staring at him, although he looked away whenever he saw Heyes noticing his look. Huxtable looked frightened. He was scared of a man who had been his friend for more than two years. Of a man who had wielded a pistol to defend him down by the docks. As they walked on the sidewalk, there was more and more distance between the eighteen-year-old and the thirty-six-year-old.

It was strange for Heyes to think how, just a few years ago, if a young man in his gang gave him trouble, it was no problem. He and the Kid wouldn't think twice about the worries of some teenager who aspired to a life of crime and proved not to be any good at it. The guy was out on his ear and wouldn't dare to make trouble for Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. But now, the growing discomfort of his young friend Huxtable was making Heyes miserable. In saving the boy from physical peril, Heyes seemed to have lost him as a friend.

When they got to Huxtable's room, it couldn't have been clearer that the boy didn't want his older friend there. The wide blue eyes looked up uncomfortably. "Thanks, Kansas."

"Don't mention it, Missouri," said Heyes quickly.

"Don't worry, I won't," Huxtable said too quickly, and closed his door in Heyes' face. The westerner wished very much that he had chosen some other turn of phrase, but it probably wouldn't have helped.

As Heyes went down the stairs and out onto the dark sidewalk, it began to rain. Heyes walked home in the dark, in the driving rain, hugging his arms to himself as a cool breeze chilled him. He found himself fingering the scars around his wrists. They weren't noticeable unless someone was really looking for them – or, like Beth, feeling for them. Heyes never thought about these old marks until someone else noticed them – as Beth had, and now Paul Huxtable. How many other people, Heyes wondered, had noticed these and other ineradicable marks of outlawry on him? He felt very cold and very alone. He was so far from the only other person who really identify with his strange situation. He wondered, actually, if even the Kid could quite understand.

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But there were people who did know who Heyes was and to whom he could talk about what had happened. One of them was Charlie Homer. The next morning, the two westerners sat in Homer's little office, one of the few places where Heyes could speak with relative freedom.

Heyes sat in the chair opposite Homer's desk, sounding almost angry at his mentor. "Well what was I supposed to do, Charlie? Just sit there all night - maybe longer and pretend I couldn't do a thing about it? Let him mess up that exam? Maybe miss it entirely?"

Homer sighed and looked with frustration at his student and friend, "Yes, Heyes. That was exactly what you should have done. Come on! You know perfectly well that someone would have come and let you out. Maybe not until two in the morning- but they would have come. One of Clarksdale's guys would have been there."

"What?!" Heyes was completely blindsided.

Homer nodded. "That's the way the game is played. You really didn't know?"

"Game? No, I didn't know! It didn't feel like any game! They knocked me out, Charlie! It still hurts!" Heyes couldn't believe that he could have so completely misunderstood the situation.

Homer looked at Heyes a bit sadly, "Yes, Heyes, game. I'm sorry I hadn't explained it to you well enough before this. You're an upper classman now – things get tougher. But this isn't gang warfare – this is a college prank. They wouldn't really put you in danger. If they hit you that hard, it was a mistake. Had they been drinking?"

"Of course they'd been drinking! But not enough to make their punches any softer." Heyes rubbed the side of his head where the bruise still hurt.

"They didn't knock out Huxtable, did they?" Homer's tone clearly implied that he assumed Huxtable hadn't been hit as hard.

Heyes stopped and queried his memory. "I don't know for sure. He was the one who woke me up. I didn't ask if he'd been knocked out. I wasn't out long – the sun was still shining when I woke up. I guess maybe they didn't knock him out at all. They probably weren't expecting me to be there – I'd gone and hidden on the stairs and they didn't see me until they came for Huxtable in the basement. So they might have hit me harder out surprise."

"Or fear," speculated Homer. "You have a pretty tough reputation on campus. When you decked Clarksdale, word got around. And you know that isn't the only thing you've done that's frightened people. If that bunch was just expecting Huxtable and they got you into the deal, they must have been scared. They probably panicked. If it had been just Huxtable, they might have done a lot less – maybe just tied him up loosely and not locked him in. And let me guess – you were tied up tighter than he was, weren't you."

"Yeah. A lot tighter," Heyes was starting to agree with his advisor. "If they'd tied me like they did him, I would've been free in about 30 seconds. As it was, it took more like ten minutes. Not like a professional job that might take a half hour or more to get out of, though." He chuckled, "Boy, they must have gone about crazy when they came back to the cellar and we weren't there! And then when Huxtable showed up on time for the exam this morning, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed!"

Homer was following out the rest of the equation, like the master mathematician he was. "They're going to be wondering about how it happened. They're going to be wondering about Joshua Smith. You'd better watch your step around here from now on, Heyes!"

"What do you think I've been doing, Charlie?" Heyes rolled his eyes in frustration.

Homer looked solemnly at his student. "Not good enough, Heyes. You've got to keep a very, very low profile outside of the classroom. I'm not saying you need to do less than your best on class. But if something else like this happens – forget you ever knew how to pick a lock, or shoot a gun, or figure out a get-away route. Just sit there - like a regular person. Like a regular mathematics students. Like someone who's never led a gang. Like someone whose name isn't known from coast and coast and into Europe."

"I'll try," sighed Heyes.

Homer's voice took on real authority, "You'll do better than that, Heyes. You'll do nothing."

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Between their barrage of exams that week, Neal George and his friend found the time to enjoy the lovely late spring weather. They went to the park afternoon with a baseball. As they walked towards the park they met Huxtable, with some books under his arm as he came from the library. "Hey, Huxtable, want to go toss around a baseball with us?" called George.

"No, man, I got to study," answered Huxtable as he ducked away, not even looking at Heyes.

"Ah, come on," said Heyes. "We'll get hot dogs and pretzels in the park. You got to eat."

Huxtable continued walking on his way with his books without replying or even looking at Smith.

"What's the deal with him?" asked George.

"I don't know . . . ," Smith started to say, then thought better of it, "No, I do know. And I . . . well, I understand. I don't like it, but I understand how he feels. Let's just go watch the game and forget it."

"No, Smith. Something happened . . ." George started to say, slowly.

"And it's none of your business," Smith snapped.

The two walked along in silence for several minutes.

Finally Smith said, "I'm sorry, NG, but it's a deal – between Huxtable and me. We can't talk about it."

"It seems like you can't talk about anything!" NG said in frustration.

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it's worked out," Smith spat out. George stared at him and it was easy to see that he was wondering about what had happened with Huxtable. He might, in time, worm the truth out of his young friend.

The whole thing was turning much too complicated, Anything he said, or didn't say, seemed as likely to get Heyes into about equal trouble. The trouble with Huxtable was spreading. Heyes had known it would. He just couldn't figure out how to stop it. There didn't seem to be a Hannibal Heyes plan to deal with this.

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But Beth thought she had a plan. They discussed it in her office. "You have to talk to him, Heyes. Answer a few questions. Keep it just to yes or no if you can. But right now he's terrified and I don't blame him. You gave him just enough for him to know that you're dangerous and you're not who he thought you were. Sounds like you were pretty fierce and authoritative about the no questions thing. If you'd been casual, he might have let it go more easily. But now it's part of a pattern. Remember that card game down by the docks that you told me about where you drew your gun! You don't think that's in his mind right now?"

Heyes felt awful to realize the long shadow cast by that one moment, "Yeah, I guess it is. But don't you think answering questions would make it worse?"

"Maybe. I know out West you could just ride away from trouble. Here, you have to stay put or you can't finish your degrees. You have to stay and cope. It makes it harder. I might be wrong, but I think answering a few questions might make you more – more human again for him. Might help him to see your side of it. Right now, he's guessing pretty wildly, I'll bet. He'll be fantasizing about the worst."

Heyes sat and thought for a long time. "I'll try it. But first, I'll ask Charlie what he thinks. This is important and I want more than one opinion, if you don't mind."

Beth looked compassionately at her man. "I don't blame you. Just remember, when it's over – I'll still be here!"

Heyes knocked on his advisor's apartment door that night and was quickly invited in.

Heyes asked, "What do you think, Charlie? He's been getting more and more – well, scared of me. It's been just over a week. The other guys are picking up on it - wondering about me. Do you think Beth could be right?"

Homer stared into the distance and thought for a moment. "I think it's dangerous as heck, Heyes. But so is doing nothing."

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The next afternoon, Heyes went to the mathematics lounge. Just as he thought he might, he found Huxtable dutifully reading, with his feet up on a grubby ottoman among the cookie crumbs and wadded up notebook pages.

"Hey, Missouri!" said Joshua Smith softly, poking the boy's foot.

Huxtable looked up. As the young prodigy saw his much older friend, a hostile look came into his blue eyes. He looked back down at his book without saying a word.

Heyes looked furtively around and saw no one else in or near the lounge. He still kept his voice very low. "You don't have to shut up entirely! Just don't ask those hard questions."

Still looking at his book, Huxtable muttered, "If I can't ask questions, I don't see how we can talk at all. Just leave me alone!"

That stung! Heyes recognized his own words coming back at him and realized how much it must have hurt young Huxtable to have it said to him the previous spring. Heyes spoke in a very low voice, both in volume and tone, "I'm sorry, Paul. It isn't that I don't trust you – it's just so dangerous to let any of that . . . information . . . loose here on campus with so many people. One wrong word – one wrong look – and it would be all over. And not just for me. It's the place, the situation, I don't trust – not you personally."

Still with his eyes on his book, Huxtable growled. "Hmn. If it's so dangerous, why bother trying to make nice to me, Smith? If that's your name! Or do you want me to help you again?"

Heyes paused before he answered, unsure what might make it worse or better. "If that's how you feel, I'll study with someone else. I knew I should have just sat down there in that cellar with you all night. It would have been better. But if you really want to know more, maybe we can talk – in private. You can ask a few questions. I can't guarantee I'll be able to answer them – but you can ask."

Huxtable looked up from his book, "Could we, Kansas? I'd go for that. I just – I feel like I can't trust you any longer. I don't know who you are or what you might do. If you could just . . . help me understand how it is, then maybe I could trust you again."

Heyes looked his young friend very squarely in the eye. The reformed outlaw thought he and Beth were right - mystery might be as dangerous as information. If he left Huxtable feeling the way he was now, that suspicion left hanging could be just as fatal as letting out facts. Huxtable's suspicions were already causing problems with their other friends.

They went up to Huxtable's dorm room, which this year was finally a single – the privilege of an upper classman. So they could have privacy as they talked. Huxtable sat on his bed while his much older friend perched on the one small, ladder back chair.

"Alright, what do you want to know?" asked Heyes in resignation.

Huxtable thought a moment, choosing his first question carefully. "Are you really from Kansas?"

"Yes." Heyes kept his voice as impassive as he could. Tones could tell as much as words, as he knew very well from countless poker games.

"Are you - wanted by the law?" Huxtable's voice trembled just slightly.

"Yes."

Huxtable's lips parted in surprise and the fear in his eyes was even clearer. "Really seriously wanted? With a reward?"

"Yes." Heyes was so tempted to explain more, but he just couldn't dare. Anything he said could lead to more trouble.

The young Missourian looked down and away from his friend, trying to deal with what he was hearing in those impassive single syllable answers that his former friend was giving without seeming to feel guilt or fear or anything at all. "Are you really guilty? Of the charges you're wanted on?"

"Yes."

Huxtable's young squeaked as he asked, "Theft?"

"Yes."

There was a paused as the young man thought about that. "But you don't steal now?"

"No. Not for more than five years. I'm going for amnesty. Think I'll get it, too." Heyes felt he had to flesh out that answer, but without giving away the fact of the Kid's existence.

"Did you ever kill anyone?" The young voice shook again.

Heyes looked away, unable to bear to see Huxtable's vulnerable face as he barked out, "Yes."

Huxtable pulled away from his friend in open fear, "You're a murderer?!"

"No!" Heyes cried. He couldn't keep his voice even. "It was self-defense!" Then, his voice became much more quiet, "I'll have to stand trial – probably soon."

Huxtable's blue eyes were very big. "You mean you killed a man since I've known you?"

"Yes." Heyes couldn't keep the sorrow out of his voice. "Never before that. I sure hoped I could keep it that way. But I couldn't – and live. His gun was pointed at me. He pulled the trigger. The bullet would have killed me if I hadn't been moving so fast. I was turning around to . . ."

"Shoot him?"

"Yes."

Already sure he knew the answer, Huxtable asked, "Is your name really Joshua Smith."

"No." Heyes looked Huxtable in the eye. He paused before continuing. "And I have to ask you to stop there. As I said before, there are lives at stake. But I'll ask you one. Are you going to tell any of our friends about this little conversation?"

"No. I don't think I need to. I think they know – or guess – what you told me. Except the shooting – and sounds like a court will sort that out." Huxtable looked hard at his friend. "But, can I ask just one more? Please? Does Professor Homer know who you really are?"

"Yes, he does."

Huxtable looked relieved. "Then he must trust you."

"I guess so." Heyes looked down, ashamed at how much trust he asked of his friends.

Huxtable tried to meet his friend's eyes, but Heyes wouldn't look up at him. "And does Beth know?"

"Of course." Heyes looked up. The mere mention of her name made him smile just a little.

"Then she also trusts you. So I guess I can, too, Kansas. At least I know I can call you that and it's true. But Joshua Smith . . ."

"Is a lie. But it's the best I can do – for now."

And there it had to stand.