Heyes took a cab back to Charlie's place to pick up his luggage and share the news he had just gotten from the president of Columbia University. As he rode down the busy New York street, Heyes ignored the swarms of people and vehicles that had so fascinated him when he had first arrived in New York nearly six years before. The former outlaw had plenty on his mind. Heyes didn't like to think of it as a con, but he did need to do some fasting talking. He would have to convince a bunch of friends to do something disagreeable and inconvenient to help out a retired outlaw who had no clue what he was going to do to pay them back.
Heyes trudged up the steps to Charlie's place, feeling utterly worn out. It was more psychological pressure than anything else wearing on him. Heyes yawned as he knocked on Charlie's door up a few steps from the street. Charlie opened the door right away. Heyes saw behind Charlie three other people standing in the hall eagerly waiting for Heyes and his news. They stepped back to allow Heyes to come into the narrow front hall. "Well, Heyes? Do you get to graduate?" asked Cat, coming right to the point as usual. Beth, in the back of the group, looked patient. She had guessed correctly at Heyes' answer.
Heyes walked toward the closest seat, which happened to be a love seat in Charlie's parlor. He dropped into it and gestured for Beth to sit next to him. "I don't know yet. The president himself doesn't know."
"What?" asked the Kid, as he sat on a horse-hair sofa with Cat, "Ain't he the top dog? Who's he afraid of?"
Heyes grinned. Curry might not know much about universities, but he knew about people. "Turns out there's somebody ranks over even a university president – the board. He thinks he can get 'em gathered up by middle of next week, or enough of them to make a ruling. So I need to have my own folks gathered up by then, too. I need character witnesses, like you'd have in court. Those board members – company presidents and guys like that – they aren't gonna warm up to a retired outlaw real easily. I sure wish we could find Lom and get him here! And Jed, the president wants to talk to you, if you don't mind."
"'Course I will, Heyes!" said Curry with a teasing sparkle in his blue eyes. "I'll tell the man all about you." The five of them sat in Charlie's parlor and laughed together.
Heyes chuckled. "That's what I'm afraid of! You know all the bad stuff, Kid! Try to say something good here and there, alright?"
Curry grinned. "Well, if I got to, maybe I can think of somethin', Heyes."
"And maybe Heyes'll have to work awful hard to think of something good to say about you so the president won't be afraid to let you in his office, Kid Curry!" said Cat, winking playing at her fiancé.
Heyes noticed that Beth, the lone easterner surrounded by his western friends and family, had fallen very quiet. He smiled encouragingly at his financée. "Sweetie, I hope you'll be the chief witness. Without you I wouldn't be at Columbia at all. You've done so much for me. Remember that day you taught me to swear again?" Beth laughed, and felt better. That was one of many Heyes stories that no one knew but Beth and Heyes themselves.
"That sounds fun!" exclaimed Cat with a surprised smile at Beth.
"Yeah, and real useful! This lady's got a great grasp of what a man needs – in a whole lotta' ways!" said Heyes putting his arm around Beth. He kissed her with enthusiasm. She blushed happily.
"When are we gonna meet more of your New York pals, Heyes?" asked Curry.
"What about tomorrow night? I can ask them to meet us at the bar where we used to go every Friday," suggested Heyes.
"But that's no place for the ladies," Charlie pointed out, catching Beth's eye and realizing she worried about Heyes in a bar at this tense moment. He quickly came up with an excuse that would keep Heyes from spending too much time drinking. "After a drink, you should go someplace for dinner so Cat and Beth can join you."
"What do you mean, 'you?'" said Heyes to his advisor. "If it's a Columbia bunch, you're the head man!"
"No, I don't want to horn in on you young folks," said Charlie quietly.
Beth joked at Homer, "Stop that, Charlie! You're a Columbia man, too. We'd miss you if you weren't along!"
"That's right!" said Heyes.
"No thank you," said Charlie. "Think I'll spend the evening right here with my girl." He looked at a little framed photograph of Marie that was on the table next to his chair.
"Alright Charlie, we understand," said Cat softly, reaching for Curry's hand.
The boys went out and brought some sliced meats and bread and salad from a local deli back to Charlie's place. So they had a late dinner that no one needed to cook. But soon after that, the two couples excused themselves to go to their hotel and their respective rooms. The whole bunch freshly in from Wyoming was very tired. On their way out of the apartment, Heyes and the Kid arranged when and where they would meet for drinks and dinner the next day. During the day Jed and Cat would enjoy exploring New York together. And they would be shopping for wedding dresses and rings.
Charlie tagged Heyes on the shoulder. When the former outlaw turned around his advisor handed him a door key. "Thanks, Charlie!" said Heyes. "I'm glad you've got a copy of my key. I almost forgot that my keys, and all my other stuff from when I got arrested, will still be over at the police station. I sure don't want to have to go over there before I head home!" He stifled a yawn. "I am beat! I just hope they haven't evicted me since I wasn't here to pay the rent."
"Don't worry, Heyes," said Charlie Homer with a little smile. "I picked up the rent for you."
"Aw Charlie, you shouldn't have done that!" moaned Heyes. He hated to think how badly he was in debt to how many people. Until he got a faculty position, or gave up on that and got another job, he had no way to pay anyone back.
"What, and have you evicted and your books left in the street? You can pay me back any time. It's not as though it's very expensive rent!" Charlie laughed. He grieved to think how simply Heyes had had to live for all these years. It didn't seem right for a very hard-working man closing in on forty to be scrimping like an undergraduate, but grad students had to put up with such things. The one thing Heyes indulged himself in was good clothes, but that was because Silky O'Sullivan insisted on it. He provided a certain amount annually that had to go for clothes, which Heyes did enjoy. Silky wouldn't have someone he was sponsoring look bad. Charlie, of course, didn't know who Silky was or how he had made his money – he only knew that Heyes had a rich clothes-horse friend. Heyes might have to reveal his own identity after his amnesty, but his patrons on the wrong side of the law had no such requirement or security. So there were areas in which Heyes had to continue to lie.
On the street in front of Charlie's place, Heyes kissed Beth as they prepared to part for the evening. "I sure will miss that hotel room side door, honey!" he said as he gave her a squeeze.
Beth kissed him back. "Me, too! Now it's back to hiding again; but only for a few days – just until we get married."
Heyes studied his fiancée's face, trying to gauge how she really felt. "It won't be long now, Beth. Do you really not mind waiting until after I graduate?"
"We don't have to wait until then unless you really want to, darling. I'm sure Jed and Cat would be glad to get married sooner." Beth didn't dare to point out that Cat would start to show her pregnancy any day – Heyes had enough to worry about without having that emphasized. Beth looked into Heyes' anxious and very tired eyes. "But you do want to wait, I know you do. And I think I know why."
Heyes gave Beth a crooked smile. "Yeah, I think you do. I don't want to marry you under any false pretenses. I want to have at least a good chance to support you. It'd make me awful nervous to have you make promises to me when you're not sure what you're getting."
Beth smiled fondly at Heyes, her love for him filling her heart. "I'm getting you for a husband, and that's all I want." She gave him a quick kiss. "Anything beyond that is pure gravy, my darling. Now you go home and try to stop worrying. You need your sleep so you'll have that silver tongue in fighting trim. And don't worry, they'll graduate you. They'd look like awful fools if they didn't."
"I do love you, Beth!" said Heyes. "See you at dinner tomorrow or at the clinic if we wind up there at the same time. I don't think Dr. Leutze would blame you for taking the day off."
Beth kissed her man again. "I'll be there – late, but there. My students need me!"
Heyes got into a cab to go back to his rented room alone. As he rode along he thought how odd it would seem just to go home by himself. Once it had been routine for him, but no longer. The last time he had left his room had been to go to a dance in Central Park with a bunch of his friends nearly a month before. Then only two of whom had known his real name. Now they all did. It seemed about three life times ago. Since that day Heyes had been on a train to Montana, in jail and court in Montana, on a train to Wyoming, in jail and court in Wyoming, in prison in Wyoming, in a hotel in Wyoming, and on a train to New York. He wondered if everything could possibly still be as he had left it his rented room.
When Heyes went up the steps and unlocked his door, he found a little drift of letters waiting for him beneath the mail slot in his door. All of them were addressed to Joshua Smith. It startled him to see the name that he had so dramatically put behind him in Wyoming. In New York, he would have a lot of work to take back up his own name.
Among the small stack of bills and official school notices was a much stamped and battered envelope from Professor Heintzelman in Germany. It contained a long letter full of mathematical ideas in answer to something Heyes had written so long ago that he had to think for a while to remember what he had asked about. Heyes read through the letter quickly, glad to find that German came back to him easily despite his month away from the language. The German academic had also asked some questions about events out West, but they all dated to well before Heyes' notorious murder trial. It took a while for word to get from Montana and Wyoming to Germany. Heyes grimaced a bit to think of how he would write back to this distant mentor he had never met. He would have to explain, in German, what had happened to him out West and why he had to close the letter with a signature that Heintzelman had never seen before. Heyes imagined that Heintzelman, a devoted fan of all things cowboy and western, would certainly have heard of Hannibal Heyes. How the distinguished professor would react when he realized that he had been corresponding with the notorious western outlaw for years, Heyes wasn't sure. He would wait to answer until he knew whether he was going to graduate. That would be vital news to convey, also, and Heyes couldn't afford to write to Germany very often.
Heyes hung his suit in his clothes cabinet and went to climb into his bed. But he pulled back in disgust. After nearly a month without an inhabitant, it was covered with a thin layer of dust and there was even a dead bug on his pillow. Heyes yawned as he changed his bed and tossed the filthy covers into a corner. He knew that he would have to dust and clean the whole place thoroughly soon, but right now he was just too tired.
In the morning, Heyes put on a nice dark grey pin striped suit and topped it with a fashionable straw boater suited to the summer weather. He carefully straightened his tie. Heyes was going to be asking for character witnesses, so he wanted to look respectable. While he was eager to see his close friends, who already knew his real name, he wasn't looking forward to the rest of the day. It was going to be incredibly difficult to reveal his all-too-well-known real name to the wide variety of people he was likely to meet. He didn't know what their reactions would be. He supposed some people would laugh out loud at his silly name.
To begin the day, Heyes went out to get breakfast from a little local place. He had eaten many a breakfast from Arnheim's Deli during his studies at Columbia. The rotund white-clad shopkeeper greeted his habitual customer with a glad cry. He asked in his thick German accent, "Hey, Mr. Smith, where you been lately? Must be a month since we saw you! Thought you'd went back West. Looks like you've had a hard time – how'd you get that cut?"
Heyes cringed to think how awkward it was going to be to crawl out from under his long-accustomed alias and into the revealing light of day- starting now. "Hello, Moe! Got the cut in the Wyoming State Penitentiary. Got hit by a guard with a diamond ring." Hearing this, an elderly woman who had been buying meats glanced at Heyes fearfully and hurried out of the store.
Moe recoiled and dropped his voice, looking around apprehensively at his other customers who might hear this before he turned back to Heyes. "Penitentiary! You were in jail?"
Heyes studied the floor while he replied softly. "Not jail, Moe, prison. It's different. Jail is for a little while. Prison is for a long time. Jail is while they figure out if you're guilty. Prison is when they know you are. And we were."
The deli owner stopped bustling around behind the glass counter to look his friend and customer in the eye. "You are guilty, Mr. Smith? I can't believe that! Of what would a nice student like you be guilty? And if you're so guilty, why are you out?"
Heyes explained quietly to his friend Moe, who listened in horror. "Theft and armed robbery. My partner and I stopped stealing a long time ago. And we've helped the law some. So they let us off. They gave us amnesty - like a pardon, but when you haven't been convicted. But to get the amnesty, my partner and I have to use our real names. My name isn't Smith. It's Heyes. Hannibal Heyes."
Moe's voice dropped to a whisper. "No! Oh my good lord! Not the man they just tried for . . . murder?"
Heyes nodded, shame-faced. "Yeah, Moe. I killed the man. I was defending myself." He felt terrible to see his old friend the deli man step back in fear.
The deli man swallowed hard. "You killed a man really? Mr. S . . . Mr. Heyes?"
Heyes tried to make it sound less terrible. "Yes. I didn't want to. But he shot at me. He and some other guys had my partner prisoner. They were going to kill both of us and turn us in for the reward. So I had no choice. And that's how the court found. They found me innocent." But Heyes saw Moe Arnheim cringing away from him. "Really, Moe, you don't have to be afraid of me. I don't hurt people unless I really have to. My partner and I are famous for not hurting people."
Moe still looked scared. "Your partner – the famous gunman – Kid Curry? I can't believe you know a bad man like that! You always seem like such a nice young man!"
Heyes tried to explain patiently. "The Kid is my cousin. We grew up together. He's a good man, Moe. Trust me on that."
Moe shook his head, sending his ample jowls rippling. He spoke in obvious distress. "No. Mr. Heyes, you lied to me all those years. I don't trust you no more. Please leave my store and don't come back. You already lost me a customer – maybe more. If a thief comes here, honest people will not come. Go away and don't come back."
Heyes nodded sorrowfully. He was afraid this would keep happening to him. He spoke under his breath, hoping that people at the other end of the long counter hadn't heard him and wouldn't hold this against the deli – or its departing former customer. "Alright, Mr. Arnheim. If that's the way you feel, I understand. I'll miss your good bagels. Good-bye." Heyes turned and left.
Mr. Arnheim pointedly turned away from Heyes to go about his work. He did not say good-bye. And he didn't say that he was sorry, although Heyes thought that he was. He hoped so.
Heyes went a couple of blocks down the street to a place where they didn't know his alias and had no need to ask his name about a cash transaction. The bagels and coffee just didn't taste as good as they always had at Arnheim's place. It was a hard way to start the morning.
Trying to put the hurt he had just suffered out of his mind, Heyes hurried down the street. He walked around the corner and down a few blocks to a small Western Union office. The sandy-haired telegraph operator looked at Heyes curiously. This telegrapher had sent some very interesting messages for this customer. But he didn't know the man's name – only the range of aliases he had used to sign his messages. He always paid in cash. The telegrapher would never be so indiscrete as to ask about a customer's messages, but it was obvious that the man before him led an unusually colorful life.
Heyes wrote out his message far more slowly than he would have in the old days; he still had to work hard to summon up the more unusual words and get them on paper. Quick scribbling was now beyond Heyes' powers. As Heyes handed the message to the telegrapher he was very conscious that it would communicate very vividly to the telegrapher as well as to the intended recipient. It read.
"Sheriff Lom Trevors, Porterville, Wyoming
Kid and I got amnesty thanks to you stop must convince Columbia to graduate me stop need character witnesses stop will you please come to New York City in next ten days query please come to double wedding stop probably will be next Thursday stop have not heard from you stop are you safe query please reply soonest stop
Hannibal Heyes
144C Norfolk Street, New York City"
The telegrapher looked at the message and read it quickly. As he looked up at his customer, the telegrapher was for once unable to totally hide his reaction. He gulped and silently bent to the key to tap out the message. Then he looked back at Heyes and said, "$2.95, please, um, Mr. Heyes."
Heyes handed the man three one dollar bills and looked warily at him. "If he replies, I'll be out until tonight. If you need to find me, try the Leutze Clinic or later on at the graduate mathematics department at Columbia University."
The telegrapher nodded and handed Heyes a receipt and a Liberty head nickel. He said softly, with a furtive smile, "Good luck Mr. Heyes."
Heyes, pleasantly surprised, said, "Thanks!"
Heyes went from the telegraph office to the Leutze Clinic. As he walked down the street, he glanced at the people around him and wondered about how each of them might react if he or she knew who the man with the very short dark hair and the cut face really was. How many would pull back in fear and hatred and how many would want to shake his hand? And how many other reactions might there be that he couldn't predict? But most people would never know who he was and he hoped that most would never care. Heyes had had his laughs from his celebrity. Now, he would be far happier just to be an ordinary man known only to family, friends, and colleagues. If he was patient enough, it could happen yet. But it had been years since he had encountered any sane American adult whom he could be sure had not heard of Hannibal Heyes.
Heyes felt like he was going back in time as he walked toward the brownstone where the clinic was. Some of the people up there knew who he really was, but unless those in the know had been indiscrete, there were still plenty of people who didn't know.
On his way up, the former outlaw met Sam, the silent porter as he was coming down. Heyes turned around and followed Sam down to the street. There the two men exchanged a silent smile and a hand-shake. Sam gestured to the cut on Heyes' face. How could Heyes explain to the man, who couldn't understand much spoken language at all, what had happened to him? Heyes gestured with his hand, where he wore Beth's silver ring, to indicate how a man wearing a ring had hit him. Sam's mouth came opened in surprise and anger. Who would hit his friend? Heyes extended both hands level to indicate that everything was alright now. Sam smiled. He understood as much as he needed to. It was very strange for Heyes to meet one person to whom nothing about him, other than the cut and the hair, had changed. Sam had never known Heyes' name and never would. He didn't any longer know his own name. Yet Sam set off cheerfully to do some errand, waving good-bye to his friend.
Heyes went back up the stairs. On the second floor where the clinic was, he leaned on the reception desk, where his friend Polly was on duty. "Joshua! You're back! How are you?" The lovely young blonde smiled brilliantly at the man she knew perfectly well was really Hannibal Heyes.
"Great! The Kid and I got our amnesty, Polly!" he told her gladly, but keeping his voice discretely low so as not to disturb patients or doctors. "One condition is that we use our real names. So it's Heyes from now on and I just have to deal with whatever trouble that causes me."
"Congratulations, Heyes! When do you get your MA?" Polly popped up from her desk to kiss Heyes on the cheek. Heyes, who had always thought Polly was very pretty, was tickled.
But in reply to Polly's question, Heyes shrugged. "Don't know. They're still deciding on whether or not they can give two degrees to . . . Hannibal Heyes when Joshua Smith earned all the credits. I need to make my case before the board like I was in court and bring character witnesses. Would you please come and speak for me, Polly?" Heyes bit his lip. It was embarrassing to hang up for a brief instant over his own name.
"Let me know when and I'll get off of work. You just let me know where and when, Heyes!" Polly replied gladly.
"We're thinking next Wednesday, but I'll make sure you know exactly. Thanks very much! Be thinking of nice things to say." Heyes finished by whispering, "You might play down the poker and the gunplay." He gave her a mock-warning gaze.
"Heyes, I do have some sense!" Polly giggled. "There's plenty of good stuff to say about you, don't you worry. I'm guessing you want to see Dr. Leutze? He's got a patient right now, but you might be able to sneak in when this one leaves. It ought to be soon. I haven't seen Beth yet, but Jim should be back from an errand any time."
"Sounds like you've got me pretty well covered, Polly. Is Dr. Goldstein here?" Heyes asked.
"Yes, Joshua, sorry, I mean, Heyes. He's a got a patient who won't be out for a while."
Heyes looked up as he replied. "Thanks, Polly! Oh, here's Jim!"
"Joshua! You got out of p-prison and you d-didn't let me know!" Jim jokingly made as if to hit his good friend.
Heyes ducked and smiled gladly. "Sorry, Jim! I thought I'd just wait a couple of days and tell you in person. And you can use my name in the open now. In fact, you've got to. We got our amnesty and now we have to use our real names."
"Then congratulations, Heyes!" said Jim with enthusiasm, shaking his former roommate by the hand vigorously.
"Thanks, Jim!" said Heyes. "I'm still trying to get those degrees. You can help, if you will. The President of Columbia University is going to gather the board by the middle of next week. He wants me to speak to them and to bring character witnesses. Will you be one, please? That would mean a lot to me!"
"It would be a p-privilege to speak for you, Mr. Heyes," said Jim, standing up very straight.
Heyes became just as solemn. "Thank you a whole lot, Jim. And I never really got to thank you for appearing in court for me. It . . . I . . . well, thank you." Heyes openly fought for how to put his feelings into words without being maudlin or embarrassing Jim. But Heyes understood how very, very difficult it had been for Jim to speak in the dock, and even to reveal his real name. "If I ever can do something for you . . ."
"Aw, Heyes, just being my friend is plenty. And if I ever need a safe opened . . ." Jim added with a wink.
"You know who to call!" said Heyes, "A good lock smith, of course! And by the way, once I graduate, Beth and I and the Kid and Cat are gonna have a double wedding – you've got to come!"
Jim lit up like a Christmas tree on hearing that. "Of c-course Heyes!"
An elderly man limped out of Dr. Leutze's office. Heyes guessed he was one of the stroke victims they had so many of at the clinic. Soon the doctor himself looked out and summoned Heyes in. "Well, so you finally got the amnesty! Congratulations, Heyes!" Heyes glad took his doctor's hand.
It seemed like forever since Heyes' murder trial and he hadn't had any chance to speak to Dr. Leutze since then. It was a relief to finally get to thank him. "Thanks, Doc. I'd never have gotten there without you. That speech you gave at my trial – I'll never deserve all those nice things you said. Thank you so much, Doc!"
Dr. Leutze shook his head. "Heyes, I didn't say anything but the truth. You are such a gifted man, and a good one, too. I feel lucky to have gotten to work with you. Now it's your time to use those great gifts to help the world."
Heyes looked down and spoke softly, "I hope so, Doc. But they might not let me graduate. Or they might. The president of Columbia University has asked me to get some people to talk to the board on my behalf next Wednesday or thereabouts. I . . . would you . . . please . . ?"
The doctor smiled warmly at the former patient of whom he was so very proud. "Of course, Heyes, I'll be there."
"I'm in your debt, Doc," said Heyes. "Beth and the Kid and Cat and I would be very happy if you could come to our wedding. And maybe you'd like to give Beth away? We don't know the exact day yet – we've got to find out when, or if, I can graduate. I just couldn't . . ."
"I know, Heyes, I understand," said Leutze. "However does a former outlaw come to have such a keen sense of duty?"
Heyes studied the floor. "I did have parents, Doc. It was a long time ago that they died, but not forever. It took a while, but I guess what they taught me finally won out. I got to go, Doc. I'll let you know when the board wants to hear from you."
Dr. Leutze, perceiving how embarrassed his former patient was, didn't try to make him stay.
As Heyes left Dr. Leutze's office, he saw Beth arriving. Polly kissed her and warmly welcomed her. "Beth! I'm so glad to have you back – and to have Heyes get the amnesty at last! Heyes just went into the Doc's office; oh, here he is coming out again. That was short."
"Honey, do you have a minute?" asked Heyes rather self-consciously, "I know you're busy . . ."
"Heyes, it's fine. Come on in," said Beth.
As Heyes walked in and sat in the chair usually reserved for patients – as he had been – Beth asked, "Heyes, why would you worry about asking for a few minutes?"
"Honey, I don't want to make you look bad with your employer. Putting your fiancé before patients can't look good. I don't want to put your career in any danger." Beth could see the sadness and guilt in Heyes' dark eyes.
Beth put a hand on Heyes' hand where it rested on her desk. "Heyes, what is it? They know you here – they know us both. The people who count understand what's going on. You couldn't possibly endanger my career by spending a few minutes alone with me when it looks so scandalous for us to be alone almost anyplace else. They do understand. So what's really bothering you?"
Heyes just looked at her for a long, awful moment. Beth was uncomfortably aware of the lines across his brow. The stress he was under made him look aged in just the last few weeks. "I . . . oh honey, I feel like such a hypocrite. Asking you to give up your good, solid career so I can try for my career with no guarantees. I mean, is it just because I'm a man and you're a woman? Everybody assumes you'll just give up everything you've worked for so you can follow me to whatever out of the way place I wind up teaching, or keeping books, or whatever they allow an ex-outlaw to do. It's wrong. Let Cat and Jed have a single wedding. If I can make a decent living someplace, then you can come wherever it is and marry me – if you still want to."
Beth took a deep breath. "What is it with you, Hannibal Heyes? Is seven years of running and three days in prison not enough punishment for you? You just keep beating yourself up! Honey, I'm marrying you because I love you more than anything or anybody in the whole world. And that includes my career. I'm marrying you because it would kill me to go on not being able to be with you for more than a few minutes at a time. I don't care that much about the practicalities. I can probably get a decent teaching post wherever you wind up, I hope. But if you can have the career you've waited so long for, it just doesn't matter so much what I can do – so long as I can be with you. What I'd like most, now, would be to stay home and raise babies for a while. I've had a better career already than most women ever get a chance at. It's almost too late to have babies. You're the man I want to have them with! I don't want to wait any longer. Alright Hannibal Heyes?"
Heyes' answer to that didn't require any words at all. He was still breathing a bit hard as he wiped lipstick off his face with Beth's clean handkerchief, straightened his shirt and tie, and walked out into the hall. Heyes tried with only fair success to keep a grin off his face.
As Heyes emerged from Beth's office, he almost ran slap into Dr. Goldstein. "Do you really deserve that good woman, Joshua Smith?" ask the doctor with a smile.
"Probably not, Doc, but I'm sure glad to have her," said Heyes, grinning more broadly yet. "And do you really not know what had your boss in Montana for a week?"
The smile vanished from Dr. Goldstein's grey-bearded face. "I know that he was testifying in court to help a former patient. I assume that patient was you."Heyes nodded. "More details, the discrete folks around here have kept from me. Do you have a moment in my office to explain to me, Joshua?"
Heyes nodded again and followed the elderly doctor into his office. "For starters, Doc, Joshua Smith is an alias that I can't legally use any longer. My real name is Heyes. Hannibal Heyes."
The doctor's eyes widened. While he was scarcely knowledgeable about things to do with the Wild West, even he knew that name. Heyes was impressed by the discretion of his doctor and his fiancé, and especially the often indiscrete Jim. Dr. Goldstein did not pry, but he wouldn't ignore facts left under his nose. When he had had a few seconds to take in his old patient's real identity, Goldstein seemed more amused than horrified. "So that's what you've been hiding, Mr. Heyes. I admit that I had my suspicions that Smith was an alias, though I wouldn't have guessed at your hiding such a famous name. I'm glad that you at least got a good education and won't, I hope, be going back to robbing people."
Heyes smiled, glad to find another person who heard his real name and wasn't afraid of him. "I certainly won't rob anyone ever again, Doctor. My partner and I got amnesty after going straight for more than seven years. We won't mess that up. The deal is that he'll be a sheriff in Colorado, and I've got to try to find a faculty position, hopefully in one of the four states whose governors granted the amnesty. But first I need to get my BA and MA, and there's no guarantee of that. I need to make my case in front of the Columbia University board next week. Would you consider speaking to them on my behalf?"
Goldstein spoke thoughtfully, "I would be glad to do that, Mr. Heyes. You've been an exemplary patient and student, as you well know. But we haven't been as close as you have been with Dr. Leutze or with Beth Warren, certainly. You don't have to ask me to avoid offending me. You must have a regular parade of people to speak for you. You're a very popular young man, from what I hear."
Heyes grinned in some discomfort. "Actually, Doc," he said, "I thought you would be a particularly effective advocate because we have a more professional relationship. That might be more impressive to the board than just a parade of my close friends."
Goldstein nodded. "That's a very rational approach, Mr. Heyes. In that case, please let me know the time and place, and I will gladly speak for you."
"Does it really not bother you – my past, Dr. Goldstein?" asked Heyes.
Goldstein stopped and thought for a moment before he answered. "I suppose it does take some getting used to. But I think you have amply proven to be a good citizen and a good man, now. I will note that your good conduct toward Sam, who cannot possibly thank you in any way, is a strong factor in your favor. He will presumably never learn to speak again, or even to understand more than a very little of what is said to him. What bad man would be good to so helpless a person?"
Heyes shrugged. "What can I say? I like the guy. He does nice things for people when he doesn't even know their names. He needs all the friends he can get. I can see his point of view. I've been there. I can use friends, too. I'm just glad to have some who haven't given up on me since they learned my name."
As Heyes walked down the hall to leave the clinic, he felt that he had been very fortunate to find so many people there who remained loyal to him even after learning who he was. It was a good place and he was lastingly grateful to ever have come there. As Heyes got down the steps and started to go down the sidewalk, the clinic's third doctor, Dr. Bartholomew, hurried down the steps and started to pass Heyes on the sidewalk.
Then the young blonde doctor, notorious for his nocturnal adventures around New York with myriad women, turned to face the clinic's former patient. "Did I hear right? Are you really Hannibal Heyes?"
"Yeah." Heyes looked at the doctor defiantly.
"Good God, man! And I thought I was the most dangerous man at the clinic. But I'm telling you, Heyes, if you hurt Beth Warren . . . !"
"What business of yours it is, I don't see. But I would never hurt Beth. I've stopped robbing people and I've stopped betraying women." Heyes was sorely tempted to say, "I wish you could say the same!" but he resisted the temptation.
"Well good-luck to you, Hannibal!" Dr. B. clapped Heyes on the shoulder.
The former outlaw bristled, although he realized that the doctor was just being friendly. "Just Heyes, Doc, I don't use the first name."
"Why is that, if I may ask?" asked the doctor curiously.
Heyes tried not to sound as hostile as he felt. "No, you may not. Just because I've got to use my right name after we got amnesty doesn't mean I have to share the whole bloody history."
"No offense, Heyes!" The doctor said uneasily. He was evidently starting to realize just who he was annoying and what kind of friends the former outlaw might have outside of the clinic and Columbia University.
Heyes shook his head. "No, of course not. It's just a bad story. I've got to go, Doctor. Got a lot to do today."
Heyes next headed toward Columbia University. He picked up a hotdog from a street vendor on his way. He had missed New York hot dogs during the past month, along with countless other familiar things.
It felt very strange for Heyes to walk down the halls of Columbia University knowing that he had to use a different name than when he had last been there. Heyes headed first toward the graduate assistant office where he knew that some of his friends would be working as they taught summer classes. But as Heyes went down the hall of the main classroom building, the first person he met wasn't one of his fellow graduate students. It was Tom O'Keeffe, the very young undergraduate from Montana whom Heyes had tutored. The teenager was deftly swinging down the hall with his leg braces and strong arms.
"Joshua!" called Tom gladly, "Haven't seen you in months! How are you?" Then he stopped, noticing Heyes' very short hair and the cut on his face. Being the brutally frank young man that he was, he said, "Can't say I think much of your hair cut! Why'd you decide to do that?"
Heyes looked uneasily at Tom. Now the hard revelations, the clash of his two worlds, would come out again. "Wasn't my decision, Tom. It was the Wyoming State Penitentiary."
Tom's mouth opened and closed. He was a quick thinker and followed the news from his home state and the neighboring western states carefully. So he put a bunch of things together quickly. "No! You can't be . . ."
Tom could see the pain in his old tutor's eyes, "Yeah, Tom. I'm real sorry to have had to lie to you and everybody, before. I can't use the alias anymore that I was using when I tutored you. By legal agreement, I have to use my real name and I guess you've figured . . ."
"Hannibal Heyes!" Tom cried.
Heyes nodded. "Yeah. That's me. I just use the last name, please. Well, you gonna yell at me, Tom? I'd understand."
Tom grinned broadly. "Yell at you? No! I'm gonna shake your hand and say congratulations on the amnesty! You got your MA yet?"
Heyes shook his former student's hand, which the young man accomplished by tucking one crutch deftly under his arm while he balanced on his spindly, braced legs. Heyes looked solemn and spoke quietly. "No. I don't know if they'll let me graduate. I've got to make my case in front of the board next week. I need some character witnesses. Say, would you be one, Tom? I'd be no end grateful if you would," said Heyes, with eagerness creeping into his voice. He remembered how the president had mentioned Tom. Heyes didn't want to exploit his young protégé, but the bright handicapped undergraduate from the West could be a compelling spokesman, if only his blunt speech didn't cause trouble.
"Sure . . . um Mr. Heyes." It was suddenly occurring to Tom just who he was bantering with and that perhaps he had better be more respectful.
"Thanks! And just Heyes is fine. We outlaws – former outlaws – don't stand on ceremony, you know," said Heyes, flashing his infectious grin.
"So I really had Hannibal Heyes the outlaw as a tutor? And I can really tell people that?" Tom looked utterly star struck.
Heyes nodded. "Sure, you can tell people. But former outlaw, please. The Kid and I've been straight for more than seven years. We're both getting honest jobs and getting married."
Tom's eyes shone with excitement. "Is the Kid in town? Could I meet him?"
"Yes and yes, Tom," said Heyes with a grin. "He'd be upset if he didn't get to meet you."
"Kid Curry wants to meet ME?" Tom couldn't believe it.
Heyes nodded. "Yeah, but please play down the Kid stuff. He prefers Jed these days. He's gonna be a sheriff, so it sounds better. I got to go, Tom, but I'll let you know when and where with the board. And thanks!"
Heyes waved good-bye to his former student and continued down the hall to the mathematics department's graduate student lounge.
"Gee, this place is ratty!" said Ev Carter, picking up a heap of discarded newspapers and throwing them away so he could have a clean chair to sit. "I'll be glad when I can graduate and have my own office and a nice, clean faculty lounge to hang out in someplace!"
"I'm with you there!" agreed Paul Huxtable, brushing an old paper cup off a small table into a trashcan.
Heyes stepped into the room and said, "Funny, I was thinking how much I'll miss this place. And you guys."
Ev, and NG, and Huxtable all glanced at Heyes and felt a bit guilty. It occurred to them that what looked ratty to them must be palatial compared with a prison. And in contrast to all of them Heyes, with his notorious name, had no guarantee of finding a good faculty position. He would be lucky to be able to work in the field of mathematics at all – especially if Columbia refused to graduate him.
"Good to see you – Heyes," said Ev Carter awkwardly, using a name he wasn't used to for his friend. "Welcome back! Charlie said you got amnesty."
"Yeah, welcome home, Heyes! We were wondering when you'd show up," said Neal George. Huxtable smiled but didn't say anything yet.
Heyes didn't answer. He looked distracted, staring silently into space. Feeling his friends staring at him, he pulled out of it. "Guys, can you meet us tonight at Rory's Place for drinks – say 6:00? Then we'll go on to dinner."
"Us? You and Charlie?" asked Ev.
Heyes said, "No, me and Jed. Charlie said he'd skip it."
"Jed?" asked Huxtable.
Heyes answered, "My cousin. His real name's Jedediah."
NG stared intently at Heyes. "You mean Kid Curry?"
"Yeah," said Heyes casually. "My partner. He wants to meet you guys before the graduation and the wedding."
Heyes was dismayed to see the nervous looks his friends gave him. Young Huxtable looked especially uneasy. "He wants to meet us?" asked the youngest of the group of graduate mathematics students.
Heyes tried to set his friends at ease. "Of course. He's heard a bunch about you. Come on, guys, you know you don't have to be afraid of my cousin. You saw him getting on the train. Did he look dangerous?"
"Yeah, he did," said Huxtable. "We're going to meet Kid Curry in a bar. What could go wrong?"
Heyes laughed. "Don't worry! He's perfectly dependable. He won't draw unless somebody draws on him."
"He's bringing his Colt?" asked NG, swallowing hard.
Heyes laughed again. "Of course not! I was kidding you! Get a grip, guys. Jed Curry is a perfectly sensible guy. He's been in New York before and knows how to behave. He's always telling me how I've got no sense and wouldn't know what to do without him. You aren't afraid of me, are you?"
There was a tense silence.
"Oh come off it! You've all known me for five years! You know I'm not dangerous." Now Heyes was the one starting to feel uneasy. Had his friends really all lost faith in him?
Ev cleared his throat, "Actually, Heyes, I've got to admit that that name of yours is taking some getting used to. And you did kill a man."
Heyes blew out his breath. This was getting as hard as he had feared. "I had to guys, I had to. The court agreed with me on that."
"But you got in a situation where you had to shoot a man to death. And you did it without a thought. You were ready. That's just not the Joshua Smith we thought we knew," said NG slowly.
Heyes sighed. "I get it. If you don't want to come tonight, you don't have to. I'll find some excuse to give Jed. He'll be disappointed, and so will I. And Beth and Cat at dinner afterward. And if you don't want to come to the graduation or the wedding, we'll understand. But we'd sure miss you!"
"Aw, Heyes! That's not it!" said Paul Huxtable. "We wouldn't run out on you! You just got to realize, it's - well, it's an adjustment."
"For me, too, guys, for me, too," said Heyes wearily. "For a while there I jumped every time I heard my name from anyone but Jed. For so long my name was nothing but trouble, even for me and the Kid. I mean, especially for me and the Kid. The first time I had to sign Hannibal Heyes – in prison – it felt really strange. And signing it over and over on legal papers. I kept being afraid I'd misspell it!"
All of his friends laughed. That broke the ice.
"And guys, I don't know if I'll get to graduate. You can help, if you want to. The Columbia board is gonna meet next week and they'll want to hear about me from people who . . . well, if you still do trust me. Would you guys all speak? Can you make it? Sounds like maybe next Wednesday." He looked from face to face uncertainly.
"Of course, Heyes!" said Huxtable warmly.
"And me!" added Ev Carter.
"And you know you can count on me!" said Neal George. "But I've got a class to lead in about," he pulled out his old pocket watch and glanced at it, "oh! Two minutes! Bye Heyes!" NG dashed out with his canvas bag full of books and papers.
"Oh, me too!" cried Huxtable and set off down the hall.
Carter smiled at Heyes. "Looks like I'm all you got left and I have a kid to coach in a little while. But we'll all see you tonight. We're really happy for you, Heyes. It's just, well, strange to realize who we've been friends with all this time. It's like there's two of you."
Heyes smiled crookedly. "Well, there ain't. There's just me. Guess I've changed. Hope I have. But it's still me."