There was a lively but small crowd laughing and drinking in the lower east side bar Rory's Place on a Tuesday evening in early June. A trio of Columbia University mathematics graduate students had claimed the right end of the bar for themselves. They had often been there of an evening, but this time felt a bit different. For one thing, their friend Joshua Smith was absent. But, as they often did, they were griping about school. "Did you ever hear anything as asinine as that boy in the hall today, complaining about the perfectly reasonable B you gave him, Missouri?" asked Ev, who then took a long draw on his beer.
"Whining undergrad!" scoffed Huxtable, the twenty-year-old graduate student, "They're so pitiful!"
NG, older than even the elder of his two friends by over twenty years, sagely pointed out, "Even more than we were last year when we were undergrads ourselves . . . ?''
"It is amazing how anybody can tear through classes and get ahead of us all the way Joshua . . . I mean . . . Heyes . . ." Carter tripped over not only their old friend's new name, but so many of his previous assumptions about their fellow grad student. The trio fell quiet and, as one, they looked over their shoulders toward the door. They couldn't help anticipating with some trepidation the arrival of their friend formerly known as Joshua Smith and the infamous gunman who was his partner.
As they turned back to the bar Huxtable asked uneasily, "What d'you think he'll be like?"
"Who?" asked Neal, staring into his glass.
"You know who! Kid Curry!" said Ev softly enough that no one besides his friends would hear him. He saw Huxtable's eyes get wide as the red-headed twenty-year-old looked over his shoulder again at the bar's front door. Ev and NG turned to follow young Huxtable's gaze. A pair of men had just come in, one very familiar one with short dark hair, and one far less familiar figure with honey-blonde hair that had barely grown out enough to start curling. It was the most notorious pair of retired outlaws in the country and they were sauntering in the direction of the Columbians. Even the normally unflappable Neal George couldn't help having his heart beat a bit faster as Kid Curry came to lean on the bar next to him. Neatly clad in a suit, with no gun at his hip, the Kid didn't look quite the way the former printer had pictured him. But still, NG had a hard time meeting those keen blue eyes even as Curry smiled warmly at him.
"Gentlemen, meet my partner." said Heyes to his college friends. He could see how nervous they all looked. "Aw, come on, guys! This is my little cousin Jed! He wouldn't hurt a fly!"
"'Less that fly wants to sting my partner. Then I can just get a little mean," joked Curry with a mock frown contradicted by sparkling eyes. As his frown turned into a grin and then a chuckle, the trio of Columbians slowly relaxed and started to laugh.
Heyes grinned with relief as he turned to Curry, "Jed, that's Neal George the Philadelphia printer beside you. We call him NG. Then there's Paul Huxtable, the Missouri Kid, with the fiery hair. And the skinny guy next to him is Ev Carter. He has the prettiest girlfriend on campus – except for mine, of course."
"Glad to meet you boys," said the Kid heartily, shaking each man's hand in turn. "I want to thank you for keepin' this fool partner of mine safe when I ain't with him. He never could look after himself for a minute together." He winked at the Columbia students.
"Actually, Mr. Curry," said Huxtable, "J . . . Heyes is usually the one who looks after us! Don't know what we'll do when he graduates and goes off to teach someplace."
"Aw, please forget the Mister. I go by Jed with friends," said Curry mildly.
The bartender came up and asked Heyes, "Smith, what can I get you and your new friend?"
"A cold Bud would hit the spot," said the Kid and Heyes nodded that he'd have the same. Refrigerated beer was still a novelty that Curry enjoyed when he was in New York where he could get it.
"What do they call you?" Harry the bartender asked Curry as he brought the beers.
Heyes steeled himself. Here it came again – the name thing - double-barreled this time. The Kid said, "I'm Jed Curry. Sounds like you've served my partner a lot of beers."
"Partner!" exclaimed Harry, shaking Curry's hand, "I never knew Smith here had a partner like you hear about out West."
"Yeah, Harry," said Curry, keeping his voice low so as not to let anyone other than the bar tender and their own group of friends hear him, "And you can't call my partner Smith no more, not after we got our amnesty. He's got to use his right name. And that's Hannibal Heyes."
The stunned bartender dropped the glass in his hand onto the bar's tile floor, where it shattered. Every eye in the place was trained on Harry as he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that he bent over and had to wipe his eyes. Some bar patrons, even though they didn't know what was so funny, automatically joined in the laughter. They were certainly curious to find out what had the bartender so tickled. When Harry could speak, he choked out, "Very funny, Mister! I thought you just said this guy was Hannibal Heyes! I've known him five years! This is Joshua Smith the grad student! He's a seriously hard-working guy – farthest thing from an outlaw! And everybody who reads the paper knows that Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry are in prison in Wyoming, anyhow. So you can't be Kid Curry, either!" Heyes cringed to have everyone in the small bar listening avidly to the popular bartender's speech. He didn't suppose that it did any real harm. But after over twenty years of hiding, he felt very uncomfortable having his identity brought into the light of day.
"Funny thing how our getting thrown into prison made all the papers, Kid, but our getting amnesty and getting let out didn't. Guess they prefer bad news," said Heyes to his partner. He spoke just loudly enough that not only Harry could hear him – other people in the bar might also hear, if they listened carefully.
"Ah come on, Smith," said Harry, laughing again, "You've had your joke! Let up!"
"Harry," said Heyes, leaning hard on the bar and fixing his brown eyes seriously on the bartender, "why do you think our hair is so short?" He paused. The bartender had no answer and began to look far less sure that this was a joke. "They shaved our heads in the Wyoming State Pen, that's why. And this cut on my cheek? That was a guard who wore a diamond ring and liked to hit prisoners with it. I asked the Kid not to bring his Colt, or he could give you a demonstration of fast draw that would leave you with no doubts whatsoever."
Harry gaped as he looked from the one partner to the other and back again. His eyes widened. "Boys," he whispered to the Columbians, suddenly not too eager to have other patrons hear him, "he's kidding, right?"
"No, Harry," said Neal George. "About a month ago we saw Heyes arrested by the New York police and a whole bunch of federal marshals. They came to a dance in Central Park and took him away in handcuffs at gunpoint. You remember seeing that in the newspapers?" The bartender nodded silently. "We were all standing right there. And we went up to his murder trial in Montana and the armed robbery trial in Wyoming. I promise you, these guys are Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. But they aren't in the crime business any longer."
Now every eye in Rory's Place was fixed on the pair of former outlaws. Some men were beginning to edge toward the door.
"Don't go, guys! We won't hurt anybody! Four governors trusted us enough to let us out of prison and give us amnesty!" said Heyes to the bar in general. He didn't want to cost his favorite bar customers and get asked to leave like he had at the deli that morning.
"We been straight more'n seven years, boys!" said Curry to their fellow drinkers. "And I didn't even bring my Colt. So just take it easy."
With the Kid's friendly smile to convince them, the people who had been thinking of leaving decided to stay. Some of those who stayed kept glancing curiously at the pair of retired outlaws. For a moment the atmosphere felt tense. But then a jolly bar-goer raised his beer toward Heyes and Curry, saying, "Congratulations on your freedom, boys!" A chorus of voices agreed with him and glasses were raised.
"Thanks, guys!" said Heyes genially, raising his glass in reply.
The Kid turned and shook hands with the pudgy cab-driver leaning on the bar at his left. "Yeah, thanks!" Curry added.
A suited businessman down the bar tried the order a round of drinks for the famous outlaws, but Heyes politely refused, "Thanks, sir. But we're about on our way – goin' to have dinner with our girls. Real pretty girls – we don't want to keep 'em waiting, you know?"
Eventually the rest of the bar decided to let the outlaws have some peace, but there was still a lot of talk around the bar in which their names featured prominently. Heyes glanced around the smoky bar. A lot of curious eyes looked back at him. Then he looked back at his own friends. He shrugged at them. "Sorry for being so damn conspicuous. That's gonna take some getting used to. Hope it'll settle down soon."
"I thought you'd been famous for a long time, Heyes," said Carter, puzzled.
"Famous and conspicuous are two different things, boys!" laughed Heyes. "Before we got the amnesty, the next easy step from conspicuous would have been dead."
"Yeah, we're used to keepin' our names pretty quiet," said Curry, after a long pull on his beer. "Wish old Harry here hadn't seen fit to drop that glass. One man at a time is easier than a whole crowd. Used to be, our right names would get us chased by every sheriff and posse and bounty hunter goin'. And we never knew when somebody might take 'em up on the dead end 'dead or alive.'" Heyes nodded with a grimace. He knew it too well. Curry continued, "I feel right naked without my Colt." The two former outlaws exchanged a quiet glance. Curry had said without his Colt; he hadn't said without a gun. As their carefully directed looks had confirmed to one another, both men were actually discretely carrying small pistols. Their amnesty was much too new for them to feel safe without such assurances, if they ever would.
"How long were you two wanted, anyhow?" asked Huxtable.
"That's two different answers, Missouri," said Heyes. "I'm older and I went bad first and worst. I was wanted when I was 15 – in 68'. The dead or alive part took a few more years. Was in 71' I think. Gee, that's long time ago! Missouri, you must've just gotten born about that time, huh? Kid, when did you see your first poster?"
"Heyes, cut it out!" pleaded Curry.
"What? Oh. Alright, Jed, when did you see your first poster?" Heyes amended his question with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"Thank you!" said Curry crisply, exasperated at how long his partner was taking to change his old habits. "71', if you gotta know. Guys, can we talk about something else, least ways in public? I'm gonna be a sheriff and that kinda' talk don't help none."
The three Columbians exchanged their own glances. Carter suppressed a little grin at the tension between the partners.
"And I hope to be a professor, as you know, so Jed's got a point there about subjects in public," added Heyes.
"So, Heyes, do you think they will graduate you?" asked Ev Carter. There was an edgy pause.
Heyes took a swig of beer. He tried to keep his voice casual. "I don't know. First I think they'd be crazy not to. After all, they've got five years of work and scholarships invested in me. And then I think they'd be crazy to have me out there with the Columbia stamp on me – a notorious ex-outlaw whose bad name seems like it'll never fade no matter what I do."
"Aw, Sm . . . sorry, Heyes. You've still got time to be a famous mathematics professor!" said Neal George. "You're still young! Or younger than I am, anyhow."
"How'd you get to college, George?" asked Curry, eager to find out more about Heyes' friends and to distract his partner from worrying about his own future.
NG took a moment to get his thoughts together. "I was working in the press room for the Philadelphia Inquirer. I got to talking to one of the writers about my ideas for the paper. He got me to write up some stuff – little stories on human interest stuff and city hall things. After he looked at a few, they actually published one. Then they published another. No by line, you know, so nobody knew who it was and I guess nobody noticed. But the writer – guy named Charlie Fosdick who did fiction – got me to take an English class at Drexel. I thought it was pretty interesting, and I liked the company."
"But Drexel's a college in Philadelphia. How'd you get from Philadelphia to New York and English to math?" asked Heyes, who knew only scattered bits of this story.
"Simple," said NG. "The publishing money's really more in New York, these days. I got a better job in the press room of a paper in New York. And then I took an English class at Columbia. There were some math guys in my English class, and they seemed like the interesting guys. So I took a math class and did alright. I always did like math, and it turns up a lot on technical stuff in printing. So there you go." He concluded modestly.
"You mean, so they saw what great work you did and offered you a scholarship and the rest his history!" said Huxtable with a smile. "Don't leave out the good parts! You never give yourself enough credit, NG!"
It wasn't long before all the Columbians, and the Kid, finished their beers and were ready to go to dinner. "Good night, Harry!" called Heyes, flipping a tip in the man's direction. "We'll see you another night before the Kid heads West."
"Thank you, Mr. Heyes!" said Harry, still disconcerted at learning his long-time patron's real name. "We'll always be glad to see you both."
As the five men walked in a tight group toward the restaurant where they would meet their lady friends, Heyes said quietly, "Boys, can we please keep the names quiet around the restaurant help? They've got no reason to know our right names, long as we pay cash. A bar might welcome ex-outlaws, but a lot of proper businesses won't. I'm not eager to get thrown out like I did from the deli this morning."
"Really, Heyes?" asked the Kid in surprise. "Somebody threw you out just 'cause 'a your name?" The Columbians looked grieved but not shocked at this.
Heyes said, "Yeah, Jed. I don't know about out West, but in New York, you'd better get used to it. We ain't universal heroes."
Dinner was at an Italian place where Beth and Heyes had often eaten. Beth had reserved a big table in a private back room so they could talk with relative freedom. The walls were covered with paintings of gondolas and Italian churches and castles that reminded Heyes of his dreams of European travel with Beth. All such future plans hung in the balance now. Heyes was surprised to see so large a crowd waiting for them and coming in just behind them. There were a dozen of them in all. The Kid gave Cat a quick kiss and introduced her to the Columbians. "Boys, this is my girl, Cat Christy. We'll get married soon as Heyes gets his sheepskins so we can do it all in one. Cat, this is Paul Huxtable, Ev Carter, and Neal George. I get all those right? I did? Gimme an A, professor."
Heyes took up the introductions from there, finding many aspects of his life meeting up and thus many people who didn't yet know each other. "And guys, this is Polly Moore, our friend from the Leutze Clinic. You all know Jim Smith already. And Cat and Kid, this is Betsy Holbein, Ev's fiancée, and Marcie Johnson, who's seeing Neal George. Matthias Peale couldn't come – he's in Montana. Oh, and here's Karen Horn, also from Columbia," Heyes ended awkwardly. He wasn't at all sure whether Miss Horn was still seeing Huxtable or not. He thought not. But he wasn't sure what his former student was doing there. He had wondered the same thing when he saw her name on the list of those paying for his lawyer. The stunning strawberry blonde Texan met Heyes' questioning glance boldly. Heyes had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what she was doing there and he didn't like it one bit.
Heyes sat in the center of the long table with Beth on his one side and the Kid on the other. Karen Horn managed to dart into the seat opposite Heyes and next to the blushing Huxtable. If Miss Horn was not besotted with Huxtable, he certainly was with her. He could hardly take his eyes off her. But, much to Heyes' embarrassment, he was the one whom Miss Horn was watching all through dinner.
"Have you boys got straight what you want to say to the Columbia board about Heyes?" asked Beth, looking at the three Columbians.
Heyes interrupted Ev Carter's response. "Nothing but the straight truth boys! I've met the president and the deans and some of those guys on the board. They won't be fooled by any high-flown stuff. Please, just stick to the facts and keep it simple. I don't want you to look coached, like bad trial witnesses! Sorry, Ev, but I wanted to get that said."
"That's alright, Heyes. You're right. I've met the president and the deans, too, after all," said Ev genially. "And by the way, I met the president today. He asked me to see if Mr. Curry can see him in his office tomorrow morning about 10:00. Can you do that, Mr. Curry?"
"Jed, I told you, Ev," said the Kid. "Of course I'll go talk to the president. Whatever I can do for my partner, it's no trouble. Sounds like you've got a bunch of folks to speak for you, Heyes."
"I'm mighty grateful to all of you," said Heyes, looking around the table, hardly able to believe how many friends were gathered in support of him.
"Say, Heyes, you gonna have Professor Reynolds speak for you?" asked Huxtable with a playful wink. There was general laughter from all of the Columbia students, including Heyes and some-time student Beth.
"Oh, he might not be able to manage it. He might be too overcome with ennui!" chuckled Ev Carter, holding up a limp wrist.
"He might consider speaking for outlaws too unPlatonic!" observed Beth with a wicked glance at her fiancé. "At least I hope so – I can't stand that man any more than Heyes can!"
All the Columbians roared with laughter except for Heyes. He suddenly noticed the lost looks on the faces of Jed and Cat. They knew how Beth sometimes felt left out of their western references. Now the western people in Heyes' life were feeling left out in their turn. Heyes knew that it would not really make up for the gap between East and West when he quietly told Cat and Jed, "Reynolds is a philosophy professor who caused me a lot of problems one semester. He made it real obvious what an ignorant hick I was and how far he looked down his English snoot at me."
"What, after how hard you've worked and how well you've done?" asked Cat, appalled. "That was nasty of him!"
"Oh yeah!" Heyes said lightly, "He teased me about one-room schoolhouses and aphasia and my lack of background right in front of everyone. I hope to goodness I never have to meet him after he finds out my real name. He would never let it rest." Heyes shook his head ruefully at the thought.
Jed Curry said, "And I thought outlaws were rough! Least he never pulled a gun on you about it."
Heyes chuckled. "Yeah. Thank goodness for small favors. Academics may not be as rough as outlaws, but they can be just as mean. I've been lucky. Most of them have been decent to me. So far . . . I'm assuming half of them will turn on me when they find out."
"You're makin' me nervous, Heyes," said the Kid, the look on his face confirming his words.
"No more than me, Jed, no more than me," replied his partner. He took a sip of wine. He wished he could settle down and stop worrying about the ordeal to come in front of the board.
Ev said, "You ought to have some of your students speak for you, Heyes, after you won that award for teaching. Are you gonna speak for Heyes, Karen?"
"If he wants me to, I will," said the undergraduate in her decided Texas accent, looking into Heyes' eyes with fierce and unadulterated adoration.
"Miss Horn," asked Heyes, feeling suddenly even more uncomfortable. "Did you speak to Governor Hogg of Texas about Jed and myself?"
"Yes, Mr. Heyes, I did," she replied forthrightly. "I don't know what good it did, but I tried my best for you. Of course, I had never met Mr. Curry at that time, so I could only say that anyone Mr. Heyes would have as a partner must be a good man."
"Thank you very much, Miss Horn," said Heyes. "I feel sure that your words were a help."
"Yeah," said the Kid. "Thank you, Miss. That man wasn't exactly on our side before you got to him, from what we heard."
"Please, gentlemen, you're welcome to call me Karen," said Miss Horn, looking back and forth between two men she obviously found very attractive. But the darker one was her decided favorite.
Heyes, knowing what was expected of him, but hating to look like he was too interested in the very pretty Karen Horn, replied, "Please do call me Heyes, M . . Karen, unless you ever have another class with me. You know how that works."
"Of course, Heyes," said Karen, blushing prettily.
And Jed had to say, "And you be sure to call me Jed, Karen."
Beth looked at Heyes with raised eyebrows. He sighed and nodded to her. He knew what was going on and, distasteful as it was, he was going to nip it in the bud. As the party broke up after dinner and everyone was standing up to say good-bye, Heyes found himself next to Karen Horn. He looked her steadily in the eye and motioned for her to follow him into the main restaurant, which was nearly empty. He found a dark, deserted corner and motioned for the young woman to follow him there. "Miss Horn," said Heyes firmly.
"Please do call me Karen, Heyes," said the young lady with a trilling laugh. She drew as close to him as she dared.
Heyes spoke with steely eyes and an equally firm voice. "No, I will not. Not now. Miss Horn, I'm grateful to you for speaking to the Governor of Texas on our behalf. And I appreciate your offer to speak for me to the board. However, I suspect that you came here under false pretenses. Did you ask my friend Paul Huxtable to bring you?"
"Yes, I did, Mr. Heyes," replied Miss Horn. "He was glad to bring me."
Heyes tried to control his anger. "Miss Horn, that was wrong of you. You know that you have no feelings for Mr. Huxtable. You are practicing on him for your own benefit and at my expense. I consider it highly improper and I will not allow it. You have not exactly hidden your feelings for me."
"Mr. Heyes, I'm not a little girl with a crush . . . !"
Heyes contradicted her before she could say anything even more embarrassing. "Oh yes you are, to me. You can't be more than twenty. I'm nearly twice your age. And I'm about to be married! You must know that I cannot possibly return any such feelings. For you to sit there, right opposite my fiancé, is intolerable! I would also like to pay you back for whatever you paid for my lawyer. It is wrong for a teacher to take money from a student. It could very easily be misconstrued. It could cause me serious trouble."
"Mr. Heyes!" whispered Miss Horn in horror. "I had no idea . . . "
Heyes began to lose patience, but he kept his voice very low. He didn't want anyone to overhear and misunderstand. "If not, then you were seriously naïve. How much was it, Miss Horn? I will pay you back for it right now, in cash. And don't lie about the amount. I can easily consult Professor Homer and Mr. Peale about it."
Karen Horn was on the verge of tears. Swallowing hard, she choked out, "Twenty dollars."
Heyes opened his wallet. He handed Karen Horn two ten dollar bills. The bills lay on her outstretched, trembling palm. "I'm sorry to upset you, Mr. Heyes. I will leave now. I would still be pleased to speak for you."
"No! That would be unethical." said Heyes. "I'll get Paul to see you home. Please be decent to him. He is not responsible for my behavior, only for his own, which I am sure has been honorable."
"It has, Mr. Heyes. As has your own. I'm sorry." Karen Horn looked away and would not meet Heyes' eyes. He thought she was crying. As Huxtable came out from the back room, Karen Horn fell into step beside him and took his hand. Huxtable was delighted and didn't even stop to think what might have caused the sudden change in her attitude. He just enjoyed it.
Heyes and Beth said good-bye to each of their friends in turn as they went out to catch cabs home. Huxtable and Karen Horn left first. "That young lady has a serious thing for you, Mr. Heyes," said the Kid under his breath as they left. "Did I see you paying her off?"
"Only for what she put out for my lawyer," said Heyes, the pain evident in his voice. "Oh Kid, it's so stupid. She's sure she's in love with me. I guess she's a decent girl, really. But I've already got a real decent girl in love with me, and that one is the one I love!"
Beth overheard some of this. She took Heyes' hand. "It's alright, Heyes. I know. Every good-looking professor has the same problem and you know it. I knew what I was signing on for when you asked me to marry you."
As they got out on the sidewalk, Heyes said to Beth, with his arm around her waist, "Oh honey, I paid her back $20.00 that she gave Charlie Homer for my lawyer. Now I don't have money for a cab. We'll have to walk to your place and mine! I'm so sorry!"
Beth squeezed her man's hand. "Never fear, Heyes, I've got money for a cab both ways. I won't make you walk."
Heyes moaned, "A kept man, that's what I am! When am I ever going to make enough money to even start to support you like you deserve?"
"After you graduate and somebody realizes what a brilliant teacher you are!" said Beth, as Heyes leaned over to give her a passionate kiss.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
That night in the Black Eagle Hotel, the Kid sat on his bed. Cat, having used the communicating door, was sitting near him.
"Did it ever strike you, Cat," asked the Kid as he nuzzled the back of his nearly naked fiancée's neck, "that Heyes might be happier stayin' here in New York?"
"Yeah, Kid, it has," said Cat, as she leaned back against the completed naked Curry. "He sounds real happy with all those school boys. And Beth, she never teases him like that out West."
The Kid reached around Cat to touch her in more sensual location that made her sigh hard. But he kept talking about the other couple. "But then, you know, I think she'll be happy where he's happy. And I guess it's up to them, anyhow."
"How sensible of you, Mr. Curry," said the future Mrs. Curry. "Now let's stop talking about them and do somethin' about you an' me while we can."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The next morning as the pair of finely suited men rode in a cab toward Columbia University, Heyes could see that his partner was starting to sweat. "Ain't that hot in here, Jed."
Curry ran a finger around his collar, trying to let in some air. "Is for me. I never met a college president before. I sure don't want to spoil things for you by sayin' the wrong thing, Heyes."
Heyes looked sympathetically at his partner. "You've met a senator and a governor and did just fine with them, K . . . sorry – Jed. I'm sure the president is rooting for me. He's just trying to get as much good stuff to say to the board as he can."
The Kid looked even more nervous at that, if possible. "I'll say all the pretty stuff I can, Heyes. And I'll keep off the bad stuff."
"Jed, just tell the truth. He's an old professor. He can spot a cheater or a liar at a thousand paces. Don't try to con the old boy! Alright?" Heyes said.
Curry took a deep breath and let it out. "Alright, Heyes."
"I'm mighty grateful to you, Jed, no matter what happens next week," said Heyes.
The cab pulled up in front of the tall building where the President's office was. Heyes paid and tipped the cabby and said to the Kid, "Here we are. He's on the second floor. I'll take you in, then I'll go over next door and visit with Charlie awhile, if he's here."
A lot of people were walking by on the sidewalk, as was usually the case in New York. The Kid said, "Sure, Joshua . . . sorry, Heyes. See, you ain't the only one as does it!"
"And it still ain't easy to say our real names in front of strangers, is it?" said Heyes.
Heyes escorted the Kid up the steps to the office of the president of his university. The young secretary greeted Heyes with a smile. "President Barnard is expecting you both, Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry. Please go right in."
Heyes and the Kid looked simultaneously toward each other and shared a tense smile. Then they walked into the elegantly appointed office of the president of Columbia University.
"President Barnard," said Heyes formally to the white-bearded man behind the polished desk. "may I present my cousin, Jedediah Curry."
The president put out a boney hand. "Good morning, Mr. Heyes. And I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Curry," he said in his cultured New England accent, softened by a friendly smile. "I appreciate your coming to see me. I hope you can help me out in preparing for this board meeting to consider your cousin's unusual case."
"Good to meet you, sir," said Curry. "I'll do all I can for my partner. He's a good man, sir. He's a real good man."
"I know that, Mr. Curry. Now if we can just convince a board full of business executives to believe it." Barnard turned to Heyes. "Mr. Heyes, can you give us a while alone? I'm sure you can find business on campus. Check back in oh, an hour, and we'll see if we're ready for you."
The Kid darted a distressed look at Heyes. He had been intimidated by the thought of spending ten minutes talking to the president of Columbia University. The thought of an hour shook him thoroughly. He swallowed hard. The president smiled at him and called into the outer office, "Please bring a glass of water for Mr. Curry."
"See you gentlemen later," said Heyes, a little uneasy himself at the thought of this strange combination of his supporters spending such a long time in conversation.
As Heyes left the office, the president turned to Curry. "Now, Mr. Curry, I have some questions for you." Curry nodded uneasily. "When did you first meet Mr. Heyes?"
That was easy and it made Curry begin to feel less pressure. If this interview could stay with such easy facts, it might not be as bad as he feared. "On the day I was born, so they tell me. Our Ma's was cousins and real close. My Ma said Heyes wanted to hold me, but she worried he might drop me. He was only two! Guess you could say he ain't dropped me since." Curry stopped and looked self-consciously at the president. "I'm sorry, Mr. President. I ain't had much schoolin'. I know I don't talk good, like Heyes does. Hope you and those men on the board won't hold it against him."
"Please relax, Mr. Curry. We know that you and Mr. Heyes are two different people." The president tried to be as friendly as he could and to put Curry at ease. "It's strange to me to think that a famous gunman seems to be worried by talking to me. Believe, Mr. Curry, you have nothing to worry about. It's just that you and your partner have a lot of history in common. So please tell me about your schooling, and how yours and Mr. Heyes came to be different."
"Well," Jed began, "Heyes and me, our families was farmers in Kansas. Out there, there weren't no schools right off when we was real young. We just learned at home. My Ma, she didn't have the schoolin' that Heyes' Ma had. Then, when once we got a school built, it wasn't a year 'till the ruffians came and killed our folks in the border wars. Killed all the family we had out there, 'cept each other."
The President's mouth came opened in shock. "Oh my God, Mr. Curry! What a terrible thing for you! How old were you?"
Curry began to warm to his tale, "I wasn't but only seven years old, and Heyes, he was nine. Guess you could say he raised me since then, and a hard time he had at it."
So it really wasn't that hard for the president of Columbia University to get Jed Curry to talk about himself and his partner for a long time. As they began to get up to the present day, Curry had his own question. "Mr. President Barnard, Charlie Homer won't be in bad trouble cause he didn't tell you folks who Heyes is, will he? Charlie's been awful good to us. I'd hate to think Heyes and me got him into hot water."
The president chuckled softly. It was easy to see that he was fond of both Charlie Homer and Hannibal Heyes. "If it were some other professor and some other student, maybe so, Mr. Curry. But seeing that it's Charlie Homer, I don't think he'll have anything to worry about. If we were to bring any pressure to bear on Professor Homer, everyone knows he'd just retire. That would get him right off the hook. And frankly, we would rather not lose a fine professor like Charles Homer. He is really invaluable to us. So don't worry. Since the law chose not to act against him, Columbia University won't act either. I've already had a serious talk with Charlie and he knows how I feel. But he's in no danger from me or from the board. It does you credit that you ask."
While the Kid was talking with the president, Heyes didn't know what to do with himself. He walked the empty halls of Columbia restlessly, stalked by insecurities. He didn't see any of his friends around, or, mercifully, his enemies. Inevitably, he found himself in front of Charlie's door. He didn't know if his advisor would be there, but he knocked at the door. "Come in!" called the familiar voice. As the door opened he said happily, "Well, Heyes! How's it going?"
Heyes started out sounding pretty happy himself, "Great. I've got a bunch of people lined up to talk for me. And I have a lot of ideas for things I want to tell the president and deans and the board." He stopped and thought before going on, with far less confidence, "But the thing that really worries me is that, I know this sounds weird, but, I . . . I don't want it to sound too good. The whole thing is about the truth – that they can believe me. If I do this like a school lecture, if I have it all polished, they're gonna think I'm conning them. If there's anything that would be fatal, that's it."
Charlie nodded. "You're exactly right, Heyes. These guys have heard a lot of lectures and lots of them are business men. They pull cons on each other all the time. They know a con when they hear one. They'll sure be listening for you to lie. You are, or you used to be, way too good at that. And they know it. You have to separate out your old self and your new self as crisply as you can. And be utterly honest. Don't try to hide the bad things you did as a criminal. That would only compromise how much they can believe you now. They can, and will, check up on you. The deans and the president certainly already have done so to a fare thee well."
Heyes nodded and sighed heavily. "God, how I wish I could go back and change what I did!"
Charlie looked at his star student with real compassion. "But you can't. The board knows that. They're powerful but they're human – they've all done things they regret."
"Ha!" Heyes barked. "They've done things. I spent years not just going illegal things – but getting other people to break the law, too! I led a gang! Not just for a few days or a few months – for six years! Anything I do, any operation I lead, has got to be suspect to those guys."
Charlie nodded. "But there are two things you need to remember. You need to do a talk to them, that's true, but most of what you'll say will be in response to questions. So they'll be in charge, not you. You'll just be reacting. They just have to know that your answers are true – and that they matter to you. So you're so right. It can't look polished or rehearsed. And you absolutely can't rehearse your character witnesses. I need to be in charge of them, not you.
So honestly, Heyes, once you've asked people to speak, make sure I know about all of them, then try to forget about it. Give me the list, and I'll let them know the schedule and how it will work. That should take a lot off of your mind. There's just you, and there's nothing to prepare, there. I mean, you know the truth. You'll be speaking about things you know better than anything. The moral stuff you've got down pat. The thing I advise you to do right now is to remember what you've been doing for the past five years and what you want to do. Go work on your math for a while and start looking into faculty positions. But mostly, you could use some rest and some just plain fun. And I don't mean poker. I mean the things you've been wanting to do and couldn't do until now. You don't have to be afraid any more. Go take advantage of that. You can go riding on Long Island again if you want to! Or walk in Central Park with Beth. Or just sleep all day. Whatever you like. Alright?"
Heyes smiled wryly. "Alright, Charlie. I'll try to do that. I just wish it could all be over, one way or the other. It's bad enough having my life depend on this. There's Beth, too!" Heyes looked into Charlie's eyes with real desperation.
Then he stopped and put his head in his hands. "Even if the Columbia thing goes perfectly, Oh Christ, Charlie! How am I gonna be a husband? And to a great lady like Beth? I've been a love 'em and leave 'em guy since I was 15. What am I doing? Help me, Charlie!"
Charlie looked at Heyes in concern but he spoke lightly. "Come on, Heyes! You've been true to Beth for years now, haven't you?"
"Yeah, of course."
Charlie smiled. "Well? You already know how to do the most important thing. You know how to love that wonderful woman, and she knows how to love you. The rest, you'll both figure out from day to day just like everything else in life."
"I guess." Heyes didn't sound convinced.
"What is it, Heyes? That's a big problem that can only be solved one day, one hour, one minute, at a time. There's something else on your mind."
Suddenly Heyes sounded as trapped and helpless as he had ever felt in jail. "I . . . Charlie I don't have a ring for Beth. We're being married next week and I don't have a ring and I don't have money for one. And don't offer to lend me money. I'm in enough debt already. I don't want to get married with a ring bought on loans."
Charlie smiled affectionately at his favorite advisee. "Well, that makes it hard, then, doesn't it? Actually, it doesn't. Heyes, you're the closest thing I'll ever have to a son, now that my own is gone. Here. Get married with this."
Heyes put out a hand to take from Charlie's hand a delicate gold ring set with a single tiny white diamond. "That's Marie's, isn't it?" whispered Heyes, awestruck that Charlie would even think of parting with it.
Charlie sniffed. "Yes. It was. It would make me very happy for Beth to have it."
"Charlie, you've done so much for me already . . ." Heyes felt overwhelmed.
Charlie Homer held up his hand. "No arguments. I have a ring. You need a ring. It's all in the family. Alright? Son?"
Heyes dug in his pockets to find a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. After a moment he spoke hoarsely, "If I could pick a father other than my own, he'd be you. I don't know how to thank you . . . both of you."
Charlie Homer wiped his own eyes. "Be as happy together as you can. That's the best thanks we could ever have. Be happy and be good, alright Hannibal Heyes?"
Heyes said, "I didn't used to think you could do both at once. Now I know better. You and Marie showed me how."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Heyes devoted the rest of the week to working on math, showing Cat and the Kid around New York sights, and going to concerts and art shows with Beth. And he and Beth did some practical planning for when they would set up housekeeping together.
But on Saturday, Heyes and the Kid had a different idea for some fun just for the two of them – or perhaps with one more. They both showed up at the Central Park riding stable in full western gear. They walked down the aisles looking at the immaculately groomed horses. And as they turned a corner, they saw Arthur Wainwright, who was in full eastern riding gear. Heyes and the Kid stood in the shadows outside the stall where Wainwright was preparing his horse for a ride in the park.
Heyes said, "Wainwright! It's been too long!"
Wainwright looked up, recognizing the voice. "Hi Smith! It sure has been a while since I saw you. I thought you must have gone on West."
"I did, for a while," said Heyes quietly. "I came back."
Wainwright was working on his own horse and he didn't look hard at Heyes. He just spoke over his shoulder. "Remember that time I asked you about Hannibal Heyes? I hate to bring it up again, but I've seen him in the papers a lot and wondered if you had seen more out West. He really seems like a remarkable guy. Just think what he could do if he had some real education!"
"Thanks, Wainwright," murmured Heyes in a low enough voice that no one else in the stable would be able to hear them. "I kinda' agree with you about the education. That's why I put in five years on it."
"Huh?" Wainwright finally looked around at Heyes. "What do you mean, Smith? And who's that with you?" Wainwright politely came out of his horse's stall to greet Smith and his friend.
Heyes smiled in the shadows. "Wainwright, remember when I told you about the time I got shot in the head, when a posse was riding after Heyes and Curry? Well, the guy with me now is the guy who was with me then. He saved my life after I got shot. He's done that a lot over the years. Wainwright, meet my partner, Jed Curry." Curry stepped into a shaft of sunlight that blazed on his short cropped hair. He put out his hand.
Wainwright looked at the two men in disbelief, too stunned to extend his own hand yet. His eyes darted to the Kid's right hip where a pistol was tied down. "Nice to meet you, Wainwright. My partner tells me ridin' and shootin' with you mighta' saved his life a few times." said the Kid. "So I guess you oughta' know the man by his right name. This guy is Hannibal Heyes."
Wainwright looked back and forth between the two men, his mouth coming open. He closed it and said, "That's not possible – Heyes and Curry are in prison in Wyoming! And Heyes couldn't possibly manage to get an MA in mathematics at Columbia University without getting turned in! That's just totally impossible."
"Impossible or not, Wainwright, he did it," said Curry. "Or he did if the board gives him those two sheepskins next week. They're still makin' up their minds about that."
Wainwright looked at Curry in horrified fascination. "You can't be Kid Curry! Not here!"
Heyes grinned wickedly. "Show him, Kid. Don't pull the trigger, but show him."
"De-lighted to," said the Kid.
"Show me what?" asked Wainwright. Before he finished speaking, the Kid had drawn his pistol so rapidly that it seemed as if the laws of physics had been momentarily suspended. Wainwright gasped and stepped back. Heyes grinned with proud satisfaction as he nearly always did when the Kid used his best draw. It was a good feeling to know that such a man was on his side.
"Good God!" exclaimed Wainwright. "You really are Kid Curry!"
"Yeah," said the Kid coolly. "Wish Heyes could open a safe for you, but it ain't so much fun to watch. 'Least not until he swings that big ol' door opened and brings out all that pretty money. But he don't do that no more, not since we went straight."
"And besides, it usually takes at least a couple of hours," said Heyes with a modest shrug. "It's pretty dull work for anybody but me. And I have no intention of ever being arrested again for anything, including safe cracking. Sorry about the having to use the alias, Wainwright. You really did save my life out West. I'm afraid you came up at the murder trial, but not by name. Just about the shooting range and why I was in such good practice when I killed that guy. I'm in your debt. What can I do to pay you back?"
Wainwright stared at his friend. "I saved your life?"
"By helping me keep in shape on riding and shooting, yes. You think Bunter would enjoy watching the Kid draw?" Heyes asked with a sparking-eyed grin.
Wainwright, finally starting to recover himself, grinned back. "Yes! I think he would! But before that, I'd be pleased if you two gentlemen would go riding with me and go to lunch afterward, my treat."
Curry shook his head. "Thanks, Wainwright, but count me out. I don't want to get on one of those little eastern saddles and feel like a fool. I can wait to get on a horse 'till I get back out to Colorado. See you later."
Wainwright was disappointed. "Don't go, Mr. Curry! They have a few horses here that will go in western gear, and they have some western saddles and bridles that get regular use. If you'll give me a few minutes, we can get you a horse in western tack."
"Well, alright, if you can fix it that easy," said Curry.
"And Wainwright, if they can do a second, I'd really rather go western myself," said Heyes with an embarrassed grin. "I came in western rig, as you can see. But cut me a break – I haven't been in the saddle in months! My ass is gonna ache so bad . . . I'm just glad it isn't Clay I'll be riding. I'd be embarrassed for my own horse to know how bad out of shape I am."
"Sure, Mr. Heyes," said Wainwright, "I'll get two horses in Western gear. Maybe I'll get one for me, too, and you two can teach me. I guess it'll be kind of dull just to ride in Central Park when you're used to being chased by posses."
"I'd rather have it dull the rest of my life, Wainwright!" laughed the Kid. "And please, drop the Mister. And I'd rather not use Kid either, since I'm gonna be a sheriff. Just call me Jed."
"And I'm just Heyes, to my friends, Wainwright," said Heyes.
"Alright!" responded Wainwright happily. He was delighted to be about to have the chance he had always wanted to talk with Hannibal Heyes at length, with Kid Curry thrown in. "You can call me Arthur, if you like."
"Thank, Arthur," said Curry. "It's a nice day out there and I'd be real partial to seeing it from a saddle."
Soon the three of them were cantering down a sun-dappled Central Park path. An organ grinder was playing happily in the background and children were laughing in a nearby playground. It was about as different from any ride that Heyes and the Kid had ever taken before as anything that they could imagine. When they got to a sharp turn in the path, they slowed to a long-reined walk. As they loitered down the path, a policeman in blue stepped out from under a big old oak tree. "Heyes, could I speak to you?" he asked.
Heyes stared in surprise at the man. "Sure, Officer Tryon. You know we got amnesty and a pardon, right?"
"Of course!" said Tryon.
"This is my partner, Jed Curry, and this is my friend Arthur Wainwright. Guys, this is officer Tryon. He's the man who arrested me. I sure hope he's not about to do it again! In fact I'm surprised to see you in blue, Tryon. Thought sure you'd be off retired someplace, enjoying that $15,000 you got off capturing me."
Tryon reached up to shake the hands of the two men on horseback at Heyes' side. "No, Mr. Heyes. The rail companies and banks and the stage coach company are still deciding who deserves the $15,000, if anybody does. I'd feel kind of bad claiming the money, to tell you the truth. I just wanted to let you know that we still have your personal effects at the station. Any time you want to drop by, you can pick them up. We'd kind of expected you before this. We aren't spying on you, but the authorities in Laramie told us when you took the train back to New York."
Heyes looked suspiciously at Troyon. "We're kinda' nervous about police stations, still. So I wasn't real eager to go over there. Keep worrying you that guys will figure out some new charge to grab us on. But do you really have all my personal effects? You know what I mean."
Tryon smiled uneasily. "Yes, Mr. Heyes. All of them – except for the bullets that were in your gun, of course."
Heyes' head went up in surprise. He had hoped to get his money and his watch back. But the pistol, knife, and pick locks he had not hoped ever to see again. The pick locks, in particular, were like parts of his body and he had mourned their loss. He had put countless hours into crafting them and learning to use them. He would be glad to get them back, even if he never had use for them again. "In that case, you'll see me over there real soon. I have good use for my money and my watch. How late are you open?"
Tryon chuckled. "New York City precincts are open 24 hours a day, every day of the week, Mr. Heyes. I would advise that you arrive between nine and five if you want prompt service for a matter that isn't an emergency, but someone could help you almost any time."
"Thank you, Officer Tryon," said Heyes with evident relief, "I'll be over there this afternoon. I'll bring the amnesty and pardon documents. I imagine that would help."
"It would. I'll let you enjoy your ride, gentlemen. And good luck to you!" said Troyon heartily. Heyes looked back as they rode away.
"What the heck, Heyes?" said Curry, "That's the guy who arrested you and now he's being all nice? Are you sure that's what it looks like?"
"I think, so, Jed. He's got a down on outlaws because a gang killed his brother out West in a not-nice way. But when he found out I didn't do that kinda' thing and didn't like the guys who did, he changed his mind about us. He figured out that not all outlaws – or former outlaws –are bad. And partner, not all law is bad, or they wouldn't be taking you on."
"Guess so," said Curry. The three of them came around a bend to a meadow that gave them space for a good gallop. The wind in their faces felt good.