By the time the Wild Mountain gang rode into Granite Hill, just around suppertime, Kid Curry was beyond miserable. Once the sun had risen, it shone directly into his eyes all through the morning, seeing as his hat had been knocked from his head only to hang uselessly against his back from the stampede strings. The gang had stopped around midday to take a break, rest the horses, and eat something, but they had failed to offer him anything beyond a few mouthfuls of warm water, after which the gag was retied even more tightly around his mouth. His throat was now parched and it was hard to swallow. The rawhide strip tying his hands was digging into the skin of his wrists, and his shoulders were cramping up from being held in the same position for so many hours. He knew that the stage should have arrived in Bridgerton by noon, and he found himself hoping Amanda hadn't said anything she shouldn't. In the best case scenario, she would have gone back to her room and pretended she didn't know what had happened, then discreetly told Heyes where they'd taken him when she arrived in Bridgerton. He sure hoped she didn't say too much. But that was a clever ploy of her to lead the gang away from Bridgerton and Heyes, he thought with admiration. The outlaws would be plenty pissed off when they found out his partner wasn't in Granite Bluff, but they'd still be glad of the prospect of the $10,000 reward. Heyes should have gotten the message by now and be well on his way here. Then Kid just had to hope that he would come to bust him out before he was moved on to Wyoming. He wondered if Heyes would remember the short cut through the mountains. Of course he would, he scolded himself, grinning a tiny bit despite his discomfort. If there was one person in the world he could rely on in a dire situation like this, it was Hannibal Heyes.

The procession of riders entering town, six of them brandishing weapons and the seventh obviously their prisoner, attracted considerable attention. Word spread quickly through the little berg. A small crowd began to gather.

"Who is it?" someone called out. "What's he done?"

"We gonna have a hangin'?" someone else asked hopefully.

"Mr. Jones!" rang out a familiar voice. It was the imperious Mrs. Batenhorst, shocked to recognize the bound prisoner. "What on Earth is going on here?" she demanded as the heavily armed party rode past.

Kid was helpless to answer, and the gang members had apparently decided to keep their infamous prisoner's presumed identity to themselves.

Together they rode to the sheriff's office, where the outlaws dismounted. Mason grabbed Curry roughly by the arm and pulled him from his saddle. With his hands tied, Kid's body was unbalanced and he was unable to break his fall. He hit the hard-packed dirt road heavily on his left shoulder, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He lay on his side, gasping around the gag, but not for long, as Mason roughly hauled him to his feet. He and Jude each took hold of an arm and pushed him through the door into the jailhouse. The other four gang members waited outside, ignoring the small crowd of curious passersby that had gathered.

"Sheriff Braxton, we caught us a wanted man, but we don't want it to get out just yet who it is," announced Mason.

"You're gonna have to tell me at least," responded the lawman.

"He's Kid Curry. Check yer paper."

The sheriff looked the bound young man up and down, then turned to read the wanted poster displayed prominently on his office wall.

"Well, the description fits alright," he began, "but then it would fit about a half dozen men I can think of just off the top of my head, including one of my own deputies. How do you know he's Kid Curry?"

"I was on a train him and Hannibal Heyes robbed once," replied Jude.

Kid scowled.

"How long ya had him trussed up like this?" asked Braxton. "He don't look so good."

"He's wanted dead or alive, Sheriff. He should be grateful we didn't just plug him," retorted Mason.

"That is, IF he's Kid Curry. We're gonna have to verify his identity before ya can claim the reward. And there's a shitload of paperwork," replied Braxton.

"Well then, you best get started on that," said Mason nastily. "And while yer at it, start in on the paperwork for Hannibal Heyes, cuz he's here in town."

"Ya don't say," answered the sheriff. "Ya know, I keep pretty close tabs on the comings and goings in this town and I ain't seen any stranger answering to the description of Hannibal Heyes." He thrust a thumb over his shoulder, pointing out Heyes' poster, displayed adjacent to Curry's.

"Where is he?" demanded Mason, roughly untying the bandana and yanking it out of Curry's mouth.

Whatever Curry attempted to reply, his voice was so raspy they couldn't understand him.

"Have some water, young man," insisted Braxton, pouring from a chipped pottery pitcher into a battered tin mug. He held the mug to Curry's lips until he'd drained every drop, then refilled it and repeated the procedure.

"I don't cotton to mistreating prisoners, no matter how notorious they may - or may not - be," he said with disapproval in his voice, untying Curry's wrists and throwing the latigo to the floor in disgust. The Kid grimaced as he slowly brought his stiff arms into a normal position, then began to rub his reddened wrists.

"Are you Kid Curry, son?" the sheriff asked.

"No sir. My name is Thaddeus Jones," Curry croaked. "My partner's name is Joshua Smith. He's supposed to be meeting me here when I'm done with a job, deliverin' the new schoolteacher to Bridgerton. These men are the only outlaws here. They held up the stagecoach yesterday and robbed all the passengers. I can line up four witnesses who will testify to that."

"Don't listen to him, Sheriff. He'll say anything to get outta this pickle. When we run across him, he was sparkin' that schoolteacher and he was fixin' to light out in the middle of the night. Talk about lovin' 'em and leavin' 'em," Mason jeered. Jude snorted with mirth.

"That's because the other men on the stagecoach heard you say - falsely - that I was Kid Curry. They were going to turn me in when we got to Bridgerton. That's why I was leavin'," the Kid insisted, his voice stronger now, but still a bit raspy.

"He's lyin', Sheriff. Everyone knows Heyes and Curry are conmen as well as thieves. You can't believe a single word that comes outta his mouth. He even told us he was that schoolteacher's brother!"

The sheriff raised one eyebrow. "Before or after he was kissing her?" he asked.

"Look. Just stick him in a cell and start on that paperwork, would ya? We'll be back with Heyes. Figure he's in one of the saloons."

The two outlaws swept out of the building.

When they'd gone, Braxton turned to the young prisoner sympathetically and said, "Sorry, son, I want to believe you, but unless you get someone to vouch for ya, I gotta do what they say."

"Sheriff, can you send a telegram for me?" asked Curry.

"I can't do it just now. Have ta wait 'til my deputy comes back from rounds."

Suddenly kid had a thought. "Sheriff! There's three people that live right here in Granite Hill that can vouch for me! Do you know a Mrs. Batenhorst? And her son? And a Mr. Trent? They were all passengers on the stage with me from Red Hill to Granite Bluff."

"Sure, I know 'em, son. But sounds like they don't know you very well if you only just met them on the stage t'other day."

Seeing the young prisoner's face fall, he added kindly, "But it's a start. Tell ya what. You write out your telegram. Soon as my deputy gets back I'll send it for you and I'll go look up Mrs. Batenhorst and her boy and old Mr. Trent." He rummaged through his desk drawer for a pencil and some paper.

The Kid's first impulse was to telegraph his partner, but of course he knew that was a bad idea. What if the outlaws found out? He had followed Amanda's lead to get them to think he was meeting Heyes here to prevent them from going to Bridgerton. A telegram could lead them right back to him. Besides, the stage should have arrived in Bridgerton hours ago and he was positive Amanda would have found his partner and told him the bad news. Kid had also thought of contacting Lom Trevors, but had immediately dismissed that idea, too. Lom Trevors was the one person in the world he could NOT ask to vouch for him because Lom would never lie to another lawman. If only the outlaws had struck between Red Hill and Granite Bluff! Then the Batenhorsts and Mr. Trent could identify them. Wait, he thought. Sheckerson could identify the thieves – and would be darned happy to do it, too. Would he still be in Bridgerton? If he were to leave right away, he could probably get to Granite Hill on horseback some time tomorrow. That is, if he felt up to a rigorous ride after his recent blow to the head…

Curry started writing.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The members of Mason's gang, with the exception of one, met up in front of the Silver Spur Saloon.

"No sign of Heyes and we've been in ever saloon twice," announced Skeet.

"What do we do now?" asked Jude.

"We wait for Walt," answered the gang leader. "I sent him to bribe the telegrapher, see if Curry sends any messages out that might give away where Heyes really is."

Just then, Walt turned a corner and strode up to the small group, calling out, "Mason! I got news!"

"Not out here," Mason answered, glancing around. He jerked his head toward the saloon and six pairs of boots clattered up the wooden steps, spurs jangling.

When they were seated around a round, scarred-up wooden table in a corner, each with a mug of beer in front of him, Blake turned to the tall, fair-haired outlaw to his left.

"Alright, Walt, spill."

"There was TWO telegrams, one out and one in! Which one do ya want first?"

"Out," commanded Mason.

Walt pulled a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket, set in on the table, and began to carefully smooth it out with his hands. His leader plucked it impatiently from his grasp and read it, scowling.

"This ain't good," he growled, letting the message fall from his hand onto the table.

"What?" "What?" The others asked, grabbing for the paper.

Skeet reached it first and he now read it aloud, haltingly, "To Shecky Sheckerson, Bridgerton, Colorado. Stagecoach bandits in Granite Hill. Come identify. T. Jones."

"Shecky! Wasn't that the name of the stagecoach driver?" asked Mick.

"Uh-huh," said Mason. "How long would it take him to get here from Bridgerton?"

"Bridgerton's a half day's ride the other direction from Stillwater," answered Skeet. "Even on a fast horse it'd take from sun-up 'til sundown ta go the whole way. Let's see… if he left now, he could might get to Stillwater afore dark, then come the rest of the way and be here by suppertime tomorrow. Depends on how motivated he is."

"Oh, I'd say he's pretty durned motivated! He was real mad when we robbed him," Walt said, chuckling. "Not to mention when I stove his head in!"

"If he shows up here, we're all goin' ta jail," warned Mick.

"Well, then, we're just gonna haveta make sure he don't show up here," said Mason. "Mick and Skeet. Ride toward Bridgerton and cut 'im off."

"What about the in?" asked Walt.

"Gimme that," snapped Mason, grabbing the paper before Walt could even begin to try smoothing it out.

"Huh. Heyes says he changed his plans. Wants Kid to meet 'im in Lead Gulch."

"No wonder we couldn't find him here!" exclaimed Skeet.

Five pairs of eyes stared at Skeet as if they couldn't believe he would say something so obvious. The taciturn Rico muttered something in Spanish under his breath that didn't sound very complimentary.

"Lead Gulch? Ain't that a ghost town?" asked Mick.

"You're damn right it is!" answered Mason. He smiled maliciously. "Just about two hours south o' here. This is workin' out better than I thought! He won't be expectin' nobody to show up in the middle of that godforsaken place. Walt, Jude, Rico. You're gonna go there and ambush 'im."

"What are you gonna do, Mason?" asked Skeet

"I'm gonna set right here and keep an eye on our prisoner," answered Mason, taking a gulp of his beer. "When you get back, you'll find me at the hotel. Y'all have your orders. Don't none of you disappoint me now."