Heyes already knew what a graduate seminar looked like, of course. As an undergraduate for the past three years, he had looked enviously in the doors of seminars. He knew that he couldn't wait to be in a class that intense, held in a small conference room around a table rather than in a big room full of little desks as undergraduate classes were. As he walked into his first graduate mathematics seminar in late January, on advanced geometry, Heyes fought to keep a big, silly grin off of his face. The students were starting to gather in leather padded chairs around an elegant, polished, mahogany table. Heyes knew them all – including Ev Carter, who gave him a secret little flash of a smile. Some of the students had brought mugs of coffee. All had brought very serious, thick notebooks and small piles of leather-bound texts, as had Heyes. There were already complex shapes and equations on the small black board behind the professor's chair at the head of the table. Heyes had rarely been so happy and excited in his life. There was no place in this classroom to hide; no one who truly belonged here would want to stay out of the spotlight during the demanding discussions. Every one of the eight students in the class would be intensely involved.

Professor Homer walked in and warmly said, "Welcome, gentlemen!" He looked around the table and smilingly met the eyes of each student in turn, including the shining gaze of Hannibal Heyes, sitting at the far end of the table on the right. When Homer said, "Let's get to it! This semester, gentlemen, we will be attacking geometric problems and theory . . ." Heyes felt like had gotten to heaven without the trouble of dying first. This was a class for real adults and he finally, finally got to be one of them! Heyes felt that his only serious problem in classrooms like this would be keeping himself from being too obnoxious about dominating the student end of the discussion.

Heyes' only remaining undergraduate class to be gotten out of the way that spring was an advanced chemistry class, so it afforded him no chance to relax. Between this and his array of graduate mathematics classes, the westerner was kept as intellectually busy as he had ever been in his life.

But it wasn't as though he had nothing else on his mind. On day in early February, Heyes strolled into Professor Homer's office and dropped into his familiar seat opposite his advisor's desk.

As the door closed, Homer said, "Hello Heyes! How do you like graduate work?"

Heyes laughed with joy. "I love it, Charlie! What, couldn't you tell?"

Homer laughed, too. "No, you'd kept it a total secret, Heyes! Between blathering every minute in discussions and whistling in the halls, you're about to drive us all crazy. So why do you suddenly look so serious?"

"You heard anything from Cheyenne yet?" Heyes asked, looking, indeed, extremely serious.

Now Charlie Homer looked pretty somber, too. "From the Wyoming Territorial Governor's Office? No. Have you?"

"No!" Heyes now looked openly worried. "I sent a telegram to Lom Trevors and he says no news. Nothing! There've been so many . . . Territorial Governors since the Kid and I first asked for amnesty in '83 that I can hardly keep track of 'em. It's . . . Francis Warren now, the old Civil War soldier. It's his second time around, so he knows about us – though we've never met up in person yet. You know I've got to get amnesty before I can graduate with the B.A. with my real name. And if I don't have amnesty, we can't tell the University my real name or they could turn me in. If the . . . diploma says Joshua Smith, no one's going to hire Hannibal Heyes on the strength of it!"

Homer leaned his head on his hand and rubbed his temple is if he had a headache, "I know, Heyes, I know! Wyoming's my home territory, after all! And it's well along with becoming a state. Could come through later this year. If that happens, who knows what the politics around you guys' amnesty will be! You'd have to start all over again with the new governor, once he gets elected."

Heyes nodded, "Don't I know it, Charlie! The politics of this gets worse than any equation ever invented. We've worked with governor after governor and still nothing! And Warren moved to Wyoming in 1868, so he sure remembers the days when the Kid and I were the terrors of the territory. I'll send another telegram to Lom and yet another letter to the Governor. And so will the Kid. If you could write to Governor Warren yourself, I'd be no end grateful. I don't have to tell you to do it with the greatest security."

"Of course, Heyes. But since my own boss doesn't know your real name yet, and neither does his boss, the whole things gotta be done with about a dozen pairs of kid gloves." Homer sighed heavily. "I'll get to it."

Heyes looked anxiously at his advisor. "Charlie, if this thing's gonna endanger your career, forget it. I'll do it on my own or it won't happen."

Homer snorted, "You don't think my career's already in danger?"

Heyes held his head in his hands and muttered, "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry about this whole thing! What on earth am I doing? What am I doing to you, and Marie, and the Kid, and Dr. Leutze, and Beth, and . . . everybody?"

"Nothing that we didn't agree to and don't believe in completely, Heyes! Every one of use believes in you right up to the hilt!"exclaimed Homer. "Don't worry! I'll write that letter if it's the last thing I do. Just keep your nose clean, alright? No gun play! No poker!"

Heyes nodded. "Of course, Charlie. I'll go to church on Sundays and everything."

"Well, don't go overboard about it!" said Homer with a wink.

Heyes laughed bitterly. "But whatever happens, I'm in your debt, Charles Homer. Thank you!"

"Don't mention it, Heyes," replied Homer.

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Three weeks later, Homer called Heyes into his office. Heyes was dismayed by the bleak look on his advisor's face. He could see a letter on formal stationary sitting on Homer's desk. He recognized the seal of the Territory of Wyoming with a farmer and miner flanking the figure of equal rights and a pair of flaming lamps. Heyes hung his head in disappointment. He figured that he already knew what Homer was going to say. It was just a repetition of the same bad news that had been coming to him and to the Kid from Cheyenne for more than six years.

Homer cleared his throat. "I wrote to Warren in Cheyenne. He wrote back. The answer is no." He pointed to the official letter.

But Homer didn't stop there, "No amnesty for you or the Kid. Unless . . ." Heyes looked up, startled, "unless you and the Kid will appear before the territorial governor in person and plead your case. Go up over spring break at the beginning of April – if you're late back I'll cover for you."

Heyes looked hard into his advisor's eyes. "But what if we don't come back at all? What if Warren just wants us to go up there so they can grab us and put us in prison?"

"He promises that he won't do that." Homer shrugged, "Do you trust him?"

"I don't know what to think, Charlie," said Heyes dejectedly, "But if it's the only way, I guess we got to go up. I'll wire the Kid about it and see what we can set up."

After that, Heyes was a lot quieter and less enthusiastic in his graduate classes. He did well, but his friends and professors wondered what was wrong with Joshua Smith. Only Charlie Homer knew the answer and he wasn't telling.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Oh Heyes, the governor just has to come through! That's more than six years they've been dangling amnesty in front of you!" said Beth with passion as she and Heyes sat side by side on the Homers' couch. "I wish you'd let me come along and plead for you."

"No!" insisted Heyes, "I can't put you in danger like that, and if he won't listen to me and the Kid ourselves, then a sobbing gal won't help."

Beth looked seriously offended. "I beg your pardon!"

Heyes sighed. "I'm sorry Beth, but think about it. All you can say is I was a good student with you and you love me. No one will think your testimony is anything but seriously prejudiced. And they'd be right."

"I guess they would. If it would worry and distract you, then I won't come." Beth stroked Heyes' long hair lovingly. "But I'll worry every minute that you're gone."

"Then you might be worried for the rest of your life, because I don't think we're coming back, Beth. I think the Kid and I will be in the Wyoming Territorial – or soon State – Penitentiary for the rest of our lives."

Beth was a tough lady, but at that she burst into tears. When she could speak she said, "Then why are you going, Heyes?"

Heyes replied testily, "Because I've been wrong before and I sure hope that I am now. And if we don't do what the governor says, he never will give us amnesty. We got to grab at any chance we can get. Oh, Beth, I don't know!"

"Well, I do know one thing, Heyes," said Beth, "I do love you!" They shared a long embrace that ended only when Marie Homer called them to the dining room as she brought dinner in.

The next day, Heyes packed his best suits and took the train towards Cheyenne, Wyoming. He and the Kid would not meet until they got to the actual building where the territorial governor would meet them. Heyes and the Kid could not afford to be seen together until they absolutely had to. They were afraid of more than just not getting amnesty. They hadn't been seen together in Wyoming in five years, and they surely were a well known pair there. They would be lucky if they could manage to even get to Wyoming without being nabbed, much less get to the building where Governor Francis Warren would be meeting them.

Heyes had to really battle his nerves on the train north and west. He slept as much as he could, or looked out the window at the budding and blooming green spring trees. The first day out, he spotted a man on the train taking a nip from a flask. From then on Heyes kept thinking about whiskey and wishing he could just drown everything in drink. It was the worst case of alcohol craving he had suffered in a long time. He was not anxious for his awful fantasies about the governor to walk out of his head into reality.

On the fourth day's travel, Heyes dressed in his best suit – they would be meeting the governor that evening. But on the train, he had his gun strapped down at his hip. As the afternoon got late he put his old black cowboy hat on so he could hide under it to pretend to take a nap before they got in to Cheyenne. At least it would cover his features, although he couldn't possibly relax enough to really sleep.

Heyes was actually starting to drowse a bit when he was rudely awakened by a voice saying, "Hands up, Hannibal Heyes!"

Heyes' eyes opened as suddenly as they ever had in his life. He was about to break into a sweat when he found himself looking from under the low brim of his hat into the intense blue eyes of a boy about four years old who was gripping a toy gun and wearing a little tin star. Heyes suppressed a relieved smile. He sat up and put his hands in the air. "You got the drop on me, sheriff," said Heyes in his most solemn and deepest voice.

"Sorry, Mister!" said a young woman, who dashed over and took her son's hand. "He does that to everybody. I appreciate you playing along."

Heyes tipped his ragged hat, "Not a problem, Ma'am. Guess we must have crossed into Wyoming – Devil's Hole territory. Have to watch for those boys myself." He winked at the little boy who was being led away in disappointment.

The woman laughed as she dragged her son from his new play mate. "Yes, sir, we just did." As she got a few yards away Heyes heard her say to her husband, "Actually, Bobby's got a point there. That man sure does look like the description of Hannibal Heyes!"

Heyes got dinner on the train and kept looking at his battered old pocket watch. The train was running a bit late and he worried that it might make him late for their meeting. The train pulled into Cheyenne with not much more than a half hour to spare. Heyes got off, hardly seeing the grand arches of the new stone train station. He ducked into the wash room to brush his hair and make sure he looked his best. He gave his face a quick wash and wiped under his arms. He was already starting to sweat, and it was a chilly early April evening. He went to the station's locker room and paid a dollar to rent a locker. Heyes felt distinctly uneasy at taking off his pistol and putting it, and his other belongings, behind so flimsy a lock. But that was the deal and he had no choice. He could not show up with any weapons on him.

Heyes walked down Fifteenth Street in the fast gathering dusk feeling as if he was going to a gun fight against a fast draw artist. He schooled himself to look calm, but his heart was pounding a mile a minute. As he got to the non-descript hotel where he and the Kid would be meeting the governor, he spotted a familiar figure with a graying brown mustache. The pair walked into the lobby of the run-down hotel and found a quiet corner of the room, away from the two or three guys hanging out there. "So, Lom, how are you?" said Heyes, quietly. He hadn't seen his friend the sheriff in five years.

Trevors smiled nervously and shook Heyes' hand. "Glad to hear you talkin' again, hmn, Joshua."

Heyes ducked his head self-consciously, "I drive 'em crazy at Columbia talkin' up a storm in my classes. But tonight, I don't intend to say a word more than I have to."

"Sounds wise to me," said Lom. "And here comes . . . Mr. Jones."

"Gentlemen . . ." said the Kid, reaching out to shake the hand of each of his two friends in turn. He was wearing the same old grey suit he had worn for good occasions for about the last eight years and it was starting to wear some. Heyes looked far more sophisticated in his newest grey suit in the latest eastern fashion – it was only a couple of years old. Heyes worried that the polish of his own presentation might actually make his partner look bad.

"You ready, Jed?" asked Heyes. "I, for one, don't want to say very much. If we wind up doing a lot of pleading, it'll just make us look . . . desperate. If our actions can't win him over, our words don't have much chance."

The Kid looked startled at this. "Lom, we'd better watch for pigs flyin' by and hell freezin' over, cause I thought I just heard my partner say he couldn't talk a man into something."

Heyes grinned at his partner's joke, but only briefly, "Well, you sure are hearing him say we can't make much more of a plan, cause look at that clock. We got to get up those steps right now or we'll be late to meet Mr. Warren. The train was in a bit late, so I just got here." He was careful not to use the governor's title where anyone could overhear him, and there were other men in the lobby. They didn't want the rumor of this meeting to get around!

The three men walked up the stairs to the third floor, Trevors leading Heyes and the Kid. Three more solemn looking men would have been hard to find.

Lom Trevors found room 313 and knocked on the door. A burly man in an ill-fitting suit looked at the three men standing in the hall. He walked out with three companions and patted down Trevors, Heyes, and Curry. There was not a pistol or knife among them, just as their agreement had specified. The man finally let the three into the hotel room. The four strongly built and heavily armed men stood around the room with their hands on their pistol grips. The governor was taking no chances,

Governor Francis Warren, a tall, broadly built man with a graying handle-bar mustache and wire-rimmed glasses greeted them all with handshakes. "I'm glad to see you again Lom. And so these gentlemen are Jedediah Curry and Hannibal Heyes. I've waited a long time for this honor."

"Thank you, sir," said the Kid politely, but Heyes only nodded. He detected a slight and he wasn't about to say anything about it. If this jolly politician thought that he could lure Heyes into saying something stupid, the former outlaw was determined to disappoint him.

"Well, let's get to it," said the Governor in his impressive bass voice. "You boys are still out for amnesty. And I'm perfectly willing to consider it."

Heyes took a deep breath and resisted making a smart-aleck come-back. As if nearly six and a half years hadn't been long enough for anyone to consider it already!

"Mr. Heyes," said the Governor. Heyes looked at the man, who was taller and great deal larger than he was.

"Yes, sir," said Heyes noncommittally.

"I confess myself to be very pleased with your conduct. You've kept your nose very clean. You are obviously an excellent and very hard working student. Professor Homer says that you are one of the most brilliant men he has ever met. I don't doubt it. You've done Wyoming proud." Heyes resisted the urge to smile. He knew that more was coming and that it wouldn't be nearly so good.

"Except," said the Governor, "for one thing. I imagine that you can guess what that is, Heyes."

"Yes, sir," said Heyes steadily. He knew that the governor meant the man-slaughter charge, but he wasn't going to say anything before the governor did.

The Governor was now going to lay his cards on the table, "You know that you are wanted in four states and territories, boys, so it isn't just my decision. The governor of Montana insists that before you get amnesty, Heyes, you have to stand trial for the man you killed. Will you agree to a public trial?"

Heyes' lips parted. A public trial? Guilty could get him hanged. Innocent could get him the rest of his life in prison.

"On one condition, sir," said Heyes. "That no one in that courtroom other than the judge knows my real name."

The governor's white eyebrows rose, "That's a bold request Heyes! I can't tell you my opinion on the case, of course."

"Of course not, sir," responded Heyes humbly.

"It isn't my decision. But I'll speak to Governor Toole of Montana about it."

"Thank you, sir. I can't ask better than that," said Heyes.

"Now as for you, Jedediah Curry," said the Governor, turning to the Kid. "I must say that we, we four concerned Governors of Wyoming, Texas, Colorado, and Montana, we see you two as a package deal. It's amnesty for both or neither. Our consideration is that either one of you could tempt the other back to crime if he wished to do so. So Curry, Heyes' excellent work doesn't hurt you. But you have your own problems."

The Kid swallowed uneasily and exchanged a worried glance with his partner. Could they have found out about the Teasdale brothers? That could easily be seen as a double murder despite the women and children Curry had been defending when he had killed the two brothers on Hester Street.

The Governor's deep voice went on, "Our feeling is that you have done some good work with Sheriff Wilde. But having you run a saloon doesn't help your case. You are not seen as benefitting Colorado citizens as much as you could in the long run. Heyes is proposing to teach college level math – an undoubted benefit to society. Once you have amnesty, may I assume that you are planning to stop working with Sheriff Wilde and just continue running your hotel and saloon?"

"That was the plan, sir," said the Kid, with his heart in his cowboy boots.

"Curry, I understand," said the Governor, "that Wilde would like to retire after you get amnesty. Would you consider taking on the job of Sheriff after he retires? We don't expect you to make the law your long-term career – we can't force that on a free man. But that's a rough area and Governor Cooper of Colorado needs a good lawman there. Would you consider taking on the job of sheriff of Louisville for a minimum of three years?"

The Kid spoke steadily. "Myself, sir, I would seriously consider it. But that's not the safest job in the world. I would need to speak to my fiancé about it. We are hoping to have children, once I get amnesty and we can marry. . ."

The Governor looked at Kid Curry with far more compassion than the boys would have expected. "I entirely understand, Curry. It might not be much safer than being a wanted outlaw."

"And they've waited a long time already, sir," said Lom Trevors.

"I appreciate that, but getting the agreement of four governors is a ticklish business," said Governor Warren, "especially as I could be out on my ear any time when we become a state. Well, alright then, gentlemen. Mr. Curry, communicate with me as soon as you can. And I will speak to Toole in Montana about your request, Heyes. In May I will let you know our collective decision."

"That won't be in time for Heyes to go up to Montana after classes to stand trial before he graduates with his B.A., sir!" said Trevors.

"I realize that, but it's the best I can do, Trevors," snapped the Governor, "Heyes will have to wait until his M.A. graduation next spring. I've communicated with Professor Homer about it. He thinks that he can arrange for the University to allow Heyes to continue with classes toward the M.A. without actually graduating him with the B.A. yet. He could get both degrees at once next year. He thinks he can explain to the University president without giving away Heyes' identity."

"He thinks!" said Heyes with the first trace of anger and impatience in his voice.

The governor exploded, "That's the best I can do, Heyes! After months of negotiations with three other governors and a professor and two sheriffs, that's the best I can do for the worst pair of outlaws in the history of Wyoming! I give no guarantees! Good evening, gentlemen!" Warren gestured for his bodyguards to escort Trevors, Heyes, and Curry from the room. Their interview with the governor was at an end.