It was hard for Heyes to make time for anything besides school as the end of the semester loomed and he raced to finish his class papers, his thesis, and his teaching. But he certainly wasn't going to miss Marie Homer's funeral. He dressed in his best black suit and Beth wore her best black dress. They went side by side, hand in hand. It was impossible for them to forget that, like Marie and Charlie, they might not always have each other. And they were painfully aware that the parting might come very soon.

Heyes kept swallowing, trying desperately not to break down as they walked down the aisle of the big old Gothic church he had at times attended with Charlie and Marie. He and Beth were looking for a pair of empty spots in the crowded pews. They finally found Jim and Neal George sitting a row in front of Paul Huxtable and Ev Carter with his very pretty girlfriend Betsy. The trio smiled sadly and scooted over on the pew to make room for two more.

Looking around the echoing nave, Heyes was amazed to see how very many people had come. Every faculty member that Charlie had taught with and every student that he had taught in the last thirty years must be there, Heyes thought. And then there were the many people who had met Marie through her work with libraries and classical music. Heyes wished that the Kid and Cat could have been there, as had wired that they wanted to. But for the Kid to be seen with his partner by that many Columbia University students, and lots of other people, could have been fatal for both partners.

Finally the organ stopped playing mournfully and the crowd quieted down. Even under such sad circumstances, it was hard to get old school friends to stop talking.

The minister had lots of wonderful things to say about Marie Breckinridge Homer, who had been born in Wyoming 67 years before. She had been a prodigy in school and had gotten more education than most women of her day. She had done wonderful things for the people first of Wyoming, and then of New York, working with music and books.

But the story always came back to Charlie. Finally, the minister summoned the heartbroken widower to the pulpit to speak. At first Charlie, sitting red-nosed in the front pew, shook his head. But then he nodded and climbed up to the pulpit. He took a moment just to look around at his many, many friends gathered there.

"Hello, friends," began Charlie, rather uncertainly in a hoarse voice. "Thanks for coming. Marie would have been touched." He stopped and wiped his eyes. "I'm touched. As the minister said, Marie and I met out West when I was a very young man. I don't know why that lovely young lady agreed to dance with me, and why she stuck around to talk afterwards. I was a pretty wild young man, I have to admit. I kept some very bad company – played too much poker and had a gun on my hip. I might have gone in a very bad direction if Marie hadn't taken hold of me."

Charlie stopped for a moment. He was looking around the pews, looking for something. Or someone. Then he found what he was seeking and gave a small, private smile that was whole heartedly returned. Charlie was looking into Heyes' eyes. Heyes understood what he had not known until that moment – Charlie was telling him that he had almost become an outlaw – like Heyes. "Yes, I was wild. But Marie taught me what no one else had been able to – that I didn't have to be wild to be free." Charlie stopped again and cleared his throat. "With Marie, I always felt free. I just never felt alone."

"She had a hard time doing it, but she finally got it through my head that college was the course for me. That I could be a leader – in a good direction rather than a bad one. If anyone thinks that a woman can't lead except as a mother, they're wrong. She led me from a destructive path to a good one. She would have made a wonderful professor herself, but no one would give her a chance, in the old days. So she worked with me every day on my teaching. She was my co-teacher in every class I ever taught."

"And she put up with all kinds of things. I hear that it's a man's right to bring home whoever he likes for dinner. Well I brought home some pretty strange people. Scholars – politicians - peddlers – beggars – thieves." Heyes, recognizing himself and the Kid, squeezed Beth's hand. He still felt guilty about putting the Homers in that much danger. "And Marie welcomed them all. Nobody ever frightened her – not for a moment. We hosted some people who would've frightened most folks." Heyes was sure that Charlie meant the Kid – and maybe others he didn't know about. Marie had never been frightened of Heyes or his partner for a moment. "Marie, I don't have to tell you, was a wonderful hostess. It wasn't just that she threw a great party. She cooked for the hungry, nursed the sick, bandaged the injured, and comforted the troubled – and all of those have included me!" Heyes, like many in the crowd, was nodding. It was so true. They had all included him, as well!

"Homer men are kind'a reckless – our son George sure was." Heyes and Beth looked at each other in surprise. Like many there, neither one had known that the Homers had had a son. "George was smart – he could have been a great teacher . . . if he had lived. But he couldn't stay home when everyone was going to defend the Union. He was brave. He was also reckless. That's what his commanding officer told me when he wrote from Gettysburg with the news . . ." Charlie had to stop to blow his nose and clear his throat. "I'm sorry. That was twenty-eight years ago now – hard to believe – it seems like yesterday. Marie was as brave as she could be, when she heard. I'd never have made it through without her.

I'm tempted to say that I don't know how I'll make it now, except so many of you have told me that you'll stand by me. And here we are in the house of the one who stands by us all. Thank you. And God bless you." Then Charlie sat down, with tears in his eyes but a smile on his face.

There was a pause. Then the choir began to sing a song listed in the program as Marie's favorite – Schubert's Ave Maria. As the young soloist sang the soaring melody, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. This song of tribute to a protecting lady seemed the perfect closing.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After that, Heyes had a harder and harder time continuing with his work. He struggled through graduate paper after graduate paper. He wrote up his last lectures and guided his young students toward their final exams. And, with a lot of guidance and help from Charlie, he read through and graded the undergraduate and graduate papers.

But one last paper and the final polishing and writing up of the thesis still remained and Heyes was so exhausted, mentally and physically and spiritually, too. Even with Matt Peale's encouragement and help, he couldn't get his mind around it.

Heyes went to see Charlie Homer at his apartment. It felt terribly empty without Marie bustling around. Charlie looked like a faint, grey ghost of his former self. The two men sat sipping from cups of rather bad tea and eating hard biscuits that Charlie had fixed. Cooking was not his strong point – it was only one of the ways that he missed his wife desperately.

"Charlie," said Heyes slowly, knuckling eyes that had dark circles under them, "You're the last person I should say it to, but I just don't see how I can make it through everything in time. I need more time for the thesis. I just can't do it right now."

Charlie smiled at his prize student from tired but understanding eyes, still a bit red. "I understand perfectly, Heyes. There comes a point when you've thought so much and so fast for so long that your brain kind of grinds to a halt. You need a bit of rest.

I'm ready to come back, if it doesn't offend you for me to swoop in and take over when you and Paul and Hans have really done the hard work already. I'll take charge of the assistants and correct the final exams, alright? And I'll ask the grad school dean for permission to take your last paper a little late, and your thesis as well. Considering all you've done for me, and for Columbia, none of that is outrageous at all. In fact, I kind of need to get back to work. The distraction, you know – and the routine . . ."

Heyes exhaled with relief, "Thank you, Charlie! I really appreciate that. I might actually be able to sleep tonight – if the dean says yes."

"He will, Heyes. In fact, he already did, in principle. I already asked the Dean about getting you some more time. We just need to work out the specifics. We're both worried about you. Of course, I know better than he does why we need to worry. Dean Hager from Columbia College is worried, too. So go home and sleep and take tomorrow off. Just go riding or take a walk or just sleep the day away. I know you need it. Then you can concentrate on that last paper and the thesis. I know you have both of them nearly done. Just not quite up to your standards of perfection." Professor Homer smiled encouragingly at Heyes, who smiled back. But neither smile was very bright. They both knew that this delay could mean that Heyes would be arrested before he would have the chance to finish the semester.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Heyes took a walk in Central Park, all by himself, on the lovely April day that he took off between all of his academic responsibilities. He needed to get away and forget his fears, both academic and legal. But his concerns chased him. As he walked down the green-lined paths fragrant with spring flowers, he kept finding himself looking over his shoulder. He wondered if officer Tryon was still on duty there, although he had been in the park dozens of times and not seen the man.

Finally, Heyes couldn't stand it any longer. He went to find Huxtable. As usual the young man was working in his little assistant's office. Heyes told him, "Charlie's coming back, Missouri. He'll do all the exam stuff with you. It's been a privilege working with you. You're the best. Thank you for everything!"

Huxtable looked at him uneasily. "You're real welcome, Smith. But you sound almost like you're saying good-bye. You aren't going someplace yet, are you?"

Heyes shook his head, with his eyes looking very distant. "Not that I know of. But it has to be soon. No one's told me when. I guess they can't." Both men knew what they meant – Heyes' trial.

Huxtable looked terribly anxious. "You'll make it, Kansas! I know you will! You have to! It'd be just terrible for you to do all this work, and do so well, and have such great ideas and then . . ."

Heyes focuses his tired eyes on his young carrot-topped friend. "There's a lot of injustice in this world, Paul. Being tried by a fair judge and jury isn't unjust. Considering what I used to do, before you met me, it's about time I gave account in court. Then, maybe I'll get a chance to go on with my life. Or maybe not. I guess you could see justice on either side. The people who lost money to me, and the woman I widowed, wouldn't mind seeing me inside for the rest of my days – or hanged. The people I'd teach, and my friends, would just as soon have me out doing my best in the world." Heyes shrugged. "I've stopped trying to figure it out. I'm just trying to get through."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Heyes labored every day with the dread of being suddenly interrupted by the law. But he wrote at the neat little desk in his rented room and finally finished the lone remaining paper. The law didn't come.

Heyes worked with Matt Peale, who understood the threat under which he worked all too, to finish the thesis. Finally Heyes got to the part only he could do. Writing it out in long hand, page after page, stopped to correct it, and then going on and re-writing it. Heyes worked until fingers and wrist were wore into limp, painful exhaustion. But finally it was done.

Heyes walked down the city street with the bundle under his arm, still looking over his should. He went to Charlie's office and turned in the thick stack of sheets. His advisor, as he returned to familiar routines, was finally starting to look a bit more like himself. Charlie shook Heyes's hand and said, "Congratulations, Heyes! Or Joshua Smith, I should say, since that's the name on there. Maybe it's the last time you'll ever sign anything with that alias. Good luck. We'll get you those grades as soon as we can. But with the load of grading going on, realistically – it can't be less than five days. Try to relax while you're waiting."

Heyes felt a bit better as he walked out, unaware that he was limping slightly from sheer exhaustion. He was done. It seemed very strange after all these years in school. Now he had only to wait for his grades. And the law.

Even as Heyes started to walk down the hall from Charlie's office – which had been his own for a few weeks – he saw one of the sights he dreaded most. A telegram delivery boy stood waiting for him. "Joshua Smith?" the blonde teenager asked.

Heyes, with dread, said, "Yes." He accepted and paid for the telegram, then walked agitatedly down the hall in search of an empty teaching assistant office to sit and read it in. It was marked "Extremely private."

With his heart pounding, Heyes pushed in a door to one of the little unoccupied offices. He looked at the telegram. It said:

To Joshua Smith, Columbia University, Graduate College of Arts and Sciences

do not flinch stop do not fail stop never never never give up stop

FW

Heyes just stared at the little slip of paper. Of all of the unlikely telegrams that Heyes had sent and received in the past few years, this had to be the most terrifying. FW was certainly Francis Warren, the Wyoming senator who had once been governor. There could be no doubt of what he was warning Heyes about. But that he would think to send such a message seemed totally strange to Heyes. Did the man actually care? Did he think that there was still a chance?

Heyes stuck the little slip of paper into his pocket and ran down the hall to Charlie's office. "Charlie!" he called, knocking, "let me in right now!"

The door flew opened. As soon as Heyes was inside and the door was closed, Charlie asked anxiously, "What is it, Heyes? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I have," said Heyes with a swallow.

"Well, whose?" asked Homer impatiently.

"Mine."

Charlie's head went up. "You're gonna' have to explain that one to me, Heyes."

"I got a warning – from Warren. Have a look." He put the wrinkled slip of paper on Charlie's desk. When Homer looked up from reading it, Heyes said, "It's coming. Has to be real soon. So if you look for me and don't find me – you'll know where I am."

Charlie spoke in a pained monotone. "Montana. In a courtroom. Or in jail."

Heyes nodded, "Yeah."

Charlie reached over the table to shake the hand of his prize student and friend. "Good luck, Heyes. I hope to God you get a fair judge and jury – and four reasonable governors."

Heyes grimaced. "Me, too! Don't come, Charlie. And please for God's sake don't let Beth come. Or any of the Columbia boys. If I'm going down, I want to go down alone. I've done too much damage already."

Charlie wouldn't accept any of that. "We're your friends, Heyes! We won't leave you alone when you need us!"

Heyes sighed deeply. "I'm back to being powerless again, sounds like."

"If you mean powerless to sacrifice yourself for nothing, yeah, you're powerless. If you want power to live, we'll give you all we've got, Hannibal Heyes!" Charlie thumped Heyes on the back and tried to look as encouraging and supportive as he could. But he couldn't help looking frightened as well.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Heyes went from Charlie's office to the telegraph office, ready to send a warning to the Kid and Lom Trevors. But he found message from them both waiting for him - Warren had been in touch with them both. Heyes simply let them both know his latest school news and that he had gotten Warren's message.

That night Beth and Heyes had dinner with Charlie Homer at his place. Beth took pity on the men and did the cooking herself. After all time she had spent there, she knew the kitchen well.

After a rather tense and quiet dinner, the two men spoke while Beth did the dishes. This was, transparently, just to give the two men a chance to talk in decent privacy. "I don't know what to do now, Charlie. Just keep my head down and stay very quiet, I guess."

Charlie spoke authoritatively. "You can't just go into hiding. The law has to know where to find you, or they'll think you're on the lamb again."

"I know. I'd make 'em sure I was guilty." Heyes looked terribly guilty as he spoke and sipped a cup of Beth's good coffee.

Charlie smiled at him, "Go have some fun, Heyes. Be with Beth. God only knows when you'll get to do it again. If you graduate and get a job, I mean, you'll be damn busy. . ."

After all his years of work, this seemed very strange advice to Heyes. "But I've got to be responsible – work toward . . ."

"Not now! You're a young man, Heyes . . ." Charlie tried to stay upbeat, but Heyes cynically interrupted him.

"Not that young, Charlie. I feel . . ." Heyes looked grey with exhaustion and tension.

"You're awful young compared to me, Heyes!" some Charlie Homer with a forced laugh. "Now go out and enjoy it. You'll get your grades and be fine, but in the mean time, there's no reason you shouldn't take a break. There's absolutely nothing you can do about the trial. So go dancing with your sweetie or something."

Beth had come back in from the kitchen and she put her arms around Heyes from behind and kissed his cheek. "I'd like that, honey!"

So that's exactly what Heyes and Beth did. They just spent the days in the gardens of Central park being together, or went to art shows. One night they went to a chamber music concert. They always made sure that Charlie and Dr. Leutze knew where they were so that if anyone came looking, there would be no appearance that Heyes was trying to avoid being found.

The night before he expected his grades, Heyes felt particularly tense and nervous. Graduation was only a week away and he still was not officially cleared to graduate. Day after day he waited for his grades and for the law.

There was an outdoor dance scheduled in Central Park that evening, just like on the day that Heyes and Beth had first danced together – and parted with such drama – four years before. In fact, Beth arrived on Heyes' arm wearing the same flattering low-cut burgundy dress she had worn the first time they had danced. Heyes smiled with amazed delight when he saw Matt Peale, Ev Carter, Neal George, and even young Paul Huxtable, all there with lovely young ladies on their arms. The group of ten young men and women gathered off the dance floor under the trees to say hello and make introductions back and forth. Heyes could see his male friends looking at him with worry, but none of the women other than Beth was aware of the potential danger that hovered over Joshua Smith.

The only ones of the women that Heyes had met before were Betsy Holbein, Ev Carter's lovely brunette fiancé, and the school librarian Marcie Johnson who had been dating Neal George since the previous summer. Matt Peale had brought a lovely shop girl named Eva Driscoll whom he had been seeing for only a few weeks. A blushing Huxtable seemed unable to quite believe that he had been able to convince the formidable mathematics student Karen Horn to go with him for the very first time. She smiled so warmly at Heyes that her previous acting professor wondered guiltily if the stunning strawberry blonde had accepted Huxtable's invitation just for the chance to dance in proximity to the charming Mr. Smith.

Heyes and Beth stayed on the side watching their friends happily dancing a set of vigorous square dances. Then the little orchestra played a fast polka that Heyes said, very honestly, that he wasn't up to dancing to. So once again, Heyes and Beth just held hands and listened to the music while their crowd of friends danced happily, always staying together.

Then the orchestra took up a slow old country waltz. Heyes smiled at the song. "Now that one, I think I might be able to manage. Beth, if you would like to. My mother used to play it on guitar at barn dances."

Beth smiled as the pair swept onto the floor together. It was only the second time that Heyes had ever mentioned his mother to her. Beth and Heyes both tried to just forget their fears and enjoy moving in each other's arms surrounded by smiling friends. They whirled together, losing themselves in the happy moment.

Suddenly, Heyes stopped dancing and pulled back from Beth, his eyes fixed on something beyond her shoulder. "Get away from me!" he growled at her.

Beth's mouth dropped open in shock. "Honey!" she cried. The four couples of friend around them also halted suddenly, staring at Heyes. The men knew all too well what was happening, but their girls were utterly baffled. Peale, Carter, George, and Huxtable all quietly warned their girls to withdraw to safety, but they remained in a protective ring around Heyes and Beth. Karen Horn was especially upset, refusing to move away until Betsy bodily pulled her.

Heyes' eyes had gone as hard as stones. "Get away, Beth! Guys, get out of here! I mean it! They're coming for me and I don't want any of you caught up in it!"

"Darling, you're my fiancé. I'm caught up in anything about you. I'm staying right here," Beth said defiantly, clinging to her man's hand. Heyes' friends remained where they were.

An all too familiar form in blue approached Heyes with a hard smile on his face and four other men with him. It was Officer Tryon. The four men behind him had Colts drawn in their hands. Each wore a tin star encircled by a band inscribed "U.S. Marshal."

A larger group of officers in blue pushed the dancers back from all around Heyes and Beth, pulling out their Billy clubs. The orchestra members took up their instruments and fled, while the dancers moved away as fast as they could. No New Yorker was ignorant enough to stay and gawk in a situation as obviously dangerous as this one

The five law men, guns in hand, stepped past Heyes' friends, forcing them back with extended arms. The four men from Columbia, and Beth and Heyes themselves, were now the only others near enough to hear what was said unless it was shouted.

Tryon, his eyes blazing in triumph, stated quietly, "You are Hannibal Heyes." Peale looked appalled to hear this long secret name brought into the open, but his shock was nothing compared to what he saw in the panicked faces of Carter, George, and Huxtable.

The young Missourian turned so white that they thought he might faint as his friend Joshua Smith put his hands up and calmly said, "Yes, I am."

"Get back!" said one of the men with a star on his chest. Heyes friends, seeing that they couldn't help him, complied. Heyes nodded firmly for Beth to join them. Sobbing, she withdrew. Neal George put an arm around her protectively. From a safe distance, the five friends watched and listened closely to this terrible scene they had so long dreaded.

One of the marshals stepped forward, a six-gun cocked in his hand. He said, quietly, "Hannibal Heyes, I am here from Montana to arrest you for the murder of Sean Gunther the third."

Beth gasped, "No!"

Heyes stood like a statue, hands up, in silence. His eyes, locked on the cold blue eyes of the man with the gun, showed no sign of fear or anger - or anything else.

'You can't take him! He's . . ." Ev Carter started to say.

But Heyes himself cut him off, "Let these men do their duty, Ev. This is justice."

One of the marshals patted Heyes down and removed a small pistol from inside his blazer. Another marshal came forward with handcuffs. Heyes put his wrists together in front of him, but the man and the other marshal roughly grabbed the outlaw's hands and pulled them behind him. They were taking no chances. Heyes did not struggle, although he knew well how awkward and uncomfortable it was to have his hands held together behind his back.

"Don't forget the boots," Heyes said.

"What?" asked Tryon.

"Search my boots," said Heyes, the tiniest hint of impatience in his voice. The marshals took off one shining black boot at a time. In a subtly tailored sheath along the side of the right boot they found a long, slender knife. In the sheath on the side of the other boot was a group of long pick locks. The marshals were about to put the boots back onto their suspect, when Heyes told them, "The heels. Look in the heels."

Beth sobbed on Neal's shoulder. Inside little compartments in the heels of Heyes' boots the men found two tiny bundles of picklocks. The marshal who was searching the boots looked up at the infamous outlaw with respect. He and his colleagues now realized that Hannibal Heyes had left himself utterly without any recourse – except within the law. He truly had gone straight. No more jail breaks for Hannibal Heyes.

"Come on Heyes!" Said the marshal from Montana, as a colleague pushed the helpless outlaw forward. "We got us a train to Montana to catch."

Heyes said dryly, "Officers, could I please have just a minute to say good-bye to my friends and kiss my gal? We might not meet again."

"One minute, Heyes, no more!" said the Montana marshal. The four friends from Columbia came as close as they dared, with the marshals keeping them far enough away that they couldn't touch Heyes.

"Good-bye boys," said Heyes, fighting with only decent success to keep his voice from trembling, "You've all been the best friends a guy ever had. It's not fair that I had to lie to you. I'm sorry. Good luck, Ev, NG, Peale. Hang in there, Missouri. Teach 'em well for me."

"You'll come back . . ." NG began, but Heyes interrupted him.

"Just Heyes, NG," said the former outlaw. "The first name has too much blood all over it."

"Good luck, Heyes!" said NG.

"Take care!" said Ev, unable to make himself say that infamous name. "You have to come back!"

"You'll make it, Heyes!" said Peale. "You always have!"

Huxtable was hardly able to speak at all. "You can't really be . . ."

"Yes, I really am, Missouri. My name is Hannibal Heyes and I'm going to be tried for my life."

"Josh!" was all that Huxtable could say in a strangled voice.

His friend in handcuffs caught his breath with a struggle, "Tell Charlie and Dr. Leutze and Jim and Tom . . . everyone good-bye. I'm sorry for the lies." Heyes' head dropped to his chest. "Beth!" he whispered hoarsely.

Beth fought past the marshal and put her arms around her man. They shared a long, deep kiss, until the marshals pulled them apart.

The Montana marshal growled, "Enough, Heyes! We're going! Got to catch that train West." The marshals pushed Heyes stumbling forward. Their guns were still drawn.

Soon Joshua Smith's sobbing friends saw him awkwardly boosted into a paddy wagon pulled by two black horses. The driver lashed them into a gallop. In minutes the paddy wagon was out of sight.