"What's the big idea making me shoot against that guy? He's a champion. You knew I'd lose." whispered Heyes to the Kid as the shooters and the audience were walking back toward the clubhouse.

Curry spoke quietly back to his partner. "He's German. Don't you like Germans? Don't you write to German professors about your math stuff? Don't you want the chance to make friends with a real German up close?" Heyes could tell that the Kid wasn't saying what he really meant, but only the fraction that he could easily put into words in front of folks. That was common enough. They'd work it out later, as usual. Heyes had a feeling that the Kid had a message for him, and it had nothing to do with Germans.

"Yeah, I write to Germans and guys who speak German a lot. But it doesn't mean I want to be friends with everybody who happens to be German. They're millions of 'em, you know. I haven't even written to any of my German or French or British professor friends yet to tell them who I really am. They'll probably all desert me."

Curry urged his friend, "Ain't you gonna talk German to the Colonel, Heyes? I'd like to hear you."

"If you insist, Sheriff," kidded Heyes with a grin. "I mostly write, so I've got time to think about it and use a dictionary. I'm no good talking – it's too fast. But I'll try."

Heyes walked up beside Colonel Durer, who has just left off talking to Bunter. The aspiring professor spoke softly and slowly, almost like he had when he had first been back to speaking English, "Entshuldigen sie mich, Oberst Durer . . ."

The Colonel was startled. "Was? Sprechen sie Deutch, Herr Professor?"

Heyes gained confidence as he spoke this language that he had previously used only on paper and in the classroom, "Ja, ich spreche nur ein bisschen Deutch. Ich entspreche Deutschen Professoren – und Österrischen – und Schweitzeren."

"Professor Heyes, sie sind zu bescheiden." Then the German switched back into English, aware that a long conversation in German would be rude to those around them who didn't speak the language. Curry was listening with open curiosity. "Really, you are too modest. I would say that you have more than only a little German if you correspond with professors in all those German-speaking countries! But your accent – are you Jewish?"

Heyes laughed. "Nein, aber ich spriche Yiddisch." Then the American, too, switched back into English. "I used to live on Hester Street – the Jewish quarter in New York. I learned some Yiddish before I could even speak much English. It helped me to pick up German for my mathematics correspondence, but I guess it gives me a funny accent."

The Colonel was thoroughly puzzled, as were Wainwright's friends. Durer asked, "I beg your pardon? Professor Heyes, what do you mean you spoke Yiddish before you spoke English? What language did you speak before English?"

"Silence," said Heyes, the light vanishing from his eyes. The Colonel was appalled.

Heyes brushed aside his hair to point out the ugly scar on his temple. "I couldn't talk or write at all after a posse shot me. I had to work hard to speak English again, and to write it. That's what brought me to New York and gave me the chance to go to college. And by the way, you shouldn't call me Professor until I really am one. I'm just an out of work graduate right now."

The Colonel looked piercingly at the famous retired outlaw. "Just? It is a remarkable story, yours, Mr. Heyes, even if you do not teach yet."

Heyes' brown eyes looked a bit distracted as he answered. "Danke, Oberst. It's what happens next that has me worried." The men shook hands before they parted. The German stood and watched his new American friends as they departed in Wainwright's surrey, wondering what, indeed, would happen to them next.

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That evening in the Heyes' little apartment, Beth was packing for their honeymoon trip to West Virginia. Heyes sat at his little desk laboring over job application letters.

Beth had her own little leather suitcase all set. Then she started neatly folding some shirts for her husband in a new suitcase that Matthias Peale had given him as a graduation and wedding present. She looked over at her husband and grimaced as he wadded up another sheet of paper, cursed bitterly, and threw it in the trashcan on top of a dozen others. "Aw, Heyes, none of the application deadlines are that soon. You can wait for that until we get back. Or at least until you have a few quiet moments in West Virginia. I wish you could wait until you have word back from the governors about your name."

Heyes stared at another sheet of creamy stationary lying on his desk while he answered. "Well, I can't. Or probably I can't. But I want to get this out of the way so I won't be fretting about it while we're there."

Beth looked in concern at the back of Heyes' head as he leaned over his desk. "It's up to you. But I'm almost done packing and I want to get to bed. We have a long train trip in front of us tomorrow and we need to be able to keep our eyes opened when we get there."

Beth neatly packed a couple of pairs of pants and a cowboy style belt, then looked at her husband. "Can you help me out here, Heyes? I'm not a man. I don't know what all a man wants on a trip where he might sit in nice parlors, go fishing and hunting, and I don't know what all."

Heyes sighed and balled up another sheet of paper. "I'm sorry, Beth. I didn't mean to make you do work that I ought to be doing. I'm taking a stupid amount of time over this."

"Is that the Harvard letter, honey?" asked Beth.

"Yeah. I've got a couple of others done, at least in draft. I'd be grateful if you would look at them to catch any trouble before I package them up with transcripts and send them off. But Harvard - I just can't seem to get my thoughts together."

Beth tried to help. "You've been there. How did you feel about the place?"

Heyes stopped his writing and thoughtfully ran his hand through his short hair just as he had done when it was long. "It's beautiful. It's amazing. With all those elegant buildings, and the old trees, and the great libraries. There's history everywhere, and top students and professors. It's about as ideal a campus as I can imagine."

Beth studied him. "So why do I get the distinct impression that you don't want to even apply there, much less go and teach there? Don't tell me it's just because it's east of the Mississippi. So is the University of Virginia and it didn't bother you so much to apply to them."

Heyes sounded resentful. "You're right. I guess it's just that it's . . . Harvard. You know. The other schools around Boston are so jealous, they tell me, that they call it 'the school across the river.' They won't say the name. The . . . Harvard guys aren't gonna even bother to turn me down. They'll just ignore the application and leave me twisting in the wind. You know they will."

Beth kept rolling pairs of Heyes' socks while she talked. "You could be right. Other schools might do that, too, as you know. It's way too common. It's appallingly rude, but common. So that's not it, either. You'll carry through all those applications, no matter how little chance you think you have."

Heyes looked up at Beth at last. "Come on – it's Harvard. They have dozens of real geniuses. There, once they knew my name, I'd just be a silly western curiosity. I'd be like a three-horned deer head on a wall. They'd stare and laugh for a while and then ignore me. They wouldn't care about my real work. They don't need me. They'd never even interview me, much less hire me. The western schools filled with farm and ranch boys who've had to give everything to get to school at all – they might listen. Hannibal Heyes means something real to them. Or I hope I would. They might even really need me."

Beth pulled the suitcase off the bed with a thump. "Come on over here, Heyes. I need you!" Soon, the newlyweds were in each other's arms and falling into bed. Applications and suitcases alike would have to wait.

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"Grrr . ." Kid Curry emitted a low sound like a growling bear. He was riding on a train from New York City to West Virginia with his new wife at his side. Heyes and Beth sat across from them.

"What is it, dear?" asked Cat without looking up from her knitting. Heyes had never seen his cousin-in-law knit before she had become pregnant. He had also never heard her call Jed Curry "dear." He wondered if there was a scientific explanation for this strange new behavior. He also wondered if pregnancy might suddenly produce such transformations in his own wife in her turn. He would be interested to find out, now that they had stopped taking precautions to prevent that from happening.

"Paperwork," grumbled Jed Curry. "I ain't even sat in that office in Louisville once and they find me all the way out here. A paycheck, good. But no. It's stuff I got to read and write and fill out. I'm puttin' in orders for bullets when I ain't fired one yet in the line of duty, not since I got sheriffed." He impatiently signed his newly resumed name yet again.

"You've been grumpy since we got on the train, Jed. I wish you'd give up on the paperwork," said Cat in a vain attempt to soothe her husband. "This trip is supposed to be relaxing."

"If I thought we'd be welcome when he get there, I might relax," replied Curry, "But that Corey Dunham makes me feel like I'm wanted all over again. Though I got to say, all the paperwork don't help."

"I'm buried in paper myself," moaned Heyes. "Damned applications. Won't none of them get replied to, much less get me an interview. Wish this train wasn't so bumpy and swayin' so allfired much." He wrestled with a pile of papers that threated to slide to the floor and scatter all over the train car.

"I wonder if Matt Dillon had this kind of dull stuff to worry him?" griped the Kid as struggled to write intelligibly despite the erratic motions of the train car they were all four riding in. He had to dive suddenly toward the floor when a small heap of papers started to slide. With Curry's incredible reflexes, though, not a single sheet reached the floor of the train car before he had nabbed them.

"Who's that . . . – oh, I remember, that marshal in Dodge City back a lot of years ago," said Heyes over his own unstable mound of letters.

"Yeah. Knew what he was doin', Dillon did. Gave us enough fits. Remember?" Curry looked up to catch his cousin's eye.

"Not as many fits as we gave him is the way I remember it." Heyes said as he leaned over to sign his name to a paper. "Never will get used to that," he muttered to Beth as he saw "Hannibal Heyes" appear with a bold flourish under his pen.

"Here, Heyes, let me at least write the envelopes for you," volunteered Beth.

"No thanks, Beth," said Heyes, throwing down his pen. "Just can't manage the paperwork till we get there. Not practical to write application letters and curricula vitae on a moving train. And besides, the country here's so pretty, I'd rather watch it go by." Beth suppressed a smile at how Heyes' speech alternated between careless syntax with western jargon when he was talking to his partner and precise grammar with academic terminology when he was talking to his new wife.

Late that afternoon they arrived at the Cheat, West Virginia, station. "Not much of a name," said Cat softly, looking around at the tiny ill-kept station, "or much of a place." But there was no one there to be offended.

"I don't know," said Beth. "I love the big old trees. And Cheat Lake might have a funny name, but it's beautiful. With lots of good fish, they tell me." A splash not far from shore bore out her words as a fat fish showed itself for just a second.

The four newlyweds sat down on a bench to wait for someone to come and get them. They looked around and listened to the sound of frogs and bugs singing around the lake whose shore lay just on the other side of the railroad tracks. "Does look like good fishing," commented Curry. "Nice, shady trees to sit under. Or could get a little row boat like that one over there and go out."

It wasn't long before a big wagon drawn by four bay horses pulled up. It read "Green Tree Hotel," on the side and was driven by Corey Dunham, who was married to Beth's sister, Barbara.

A sturdy boy of eight was at the driver's side. He stayed silent as his father called, "Good afternoon, folks!" He was giving at least a fair imitation of being glad to see them, but then, he was a professional hotel keeper. "Curtis, say hello to your Aunt Elizabeth, and these are your new uncles, Joshua and Jedediah, and this is your new aunt Catherine. Help me get their luggage into the wagon. Folks, this is my son, Curtis. Say hello like a Christian, Curtis." Heyes looked up uneasily. He didn't have official permission to use the name of Joshua yet. If anyone found out about this, he could be in serious trouble. But he didn't want to contradict his new brother-in-law in front of his son.

"Hello, sir, sir, ma'am, and Beth." said Curtis in his soft voice. His big, blue eyes stared at his new kin from under a mop of brown curls.

"Hello, Curtis," said Heyes quietly, with a smile and a gentle hand-shake, "I'm glad to meet you. You know my Beth, and your Uncle Jed's my cousin, and your Aunt Cat's his wife." Curtis nodded to each new adult in turn, and he actually smiled at Beth.

"They call me Cat," said that lady as she smiled at the boy. "You know – short for Catherine. It's good to make your acquaintance, Curtis. Jed and I run a hotel, too, out in Colorado." She didn't mention the bar to the boy, who was a bit tongue-tied in front of his very lovely new blonde aunt.

Curtis dutifully helped his father with all but the heaviest luggage. Corey refused to let Heyes and Jed help with anything but Cat's heavy trunk.

"We're in the hospitality business. We're here to help, not to make you work when you're supposed to be on your honeymoon," said Corey gruffly.

"Sure is a pretty place here!" Curry said loudly over the rattling of the wagon as they drove the short distance to the hotel. "You got good fishing in that lake, Curtis?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy, "We have trout, sunfish, perch, channel cats." The speech seemed long practiced with customers. "Do you fish out West?"

Curry looked fondly at the boy. "Yes, Curtis, I fish when I get time. H . . . Joshua and I, we've put a lot of lines in the water together since we were boys. Been quite a while, though. You don't have to call me sir. We're family." He tousled the boy's curly hair, which was only a little darker than his own.

"S . . . Uncle Jed – how are we family? I thought only Uncle Joshua was family now."

"Um, it's complicated. Joshua and I are second cousins. Our mothers were cousins. I'm not sure what that makes you and me, but family some way. And that means a lot. Joshua and I don't have much family."

Curtis inquired lightly, with no understanding of what he was asking, "Why? What happened to your family?"

Curry's face fell. He didn't know how to explain this to so young a boy. Heyes said, "Curtis, have you ever heard of the Boarder Wars out in Kansas?"

"No, sir."

"You don't have to call me sir, either. I'm your uncle and that's close family. Like Jed says, we don't have a lot of family. We value all the family we can get. Curtis, the Border Wars went on in Kansas at about the same time that the Civil War got started in 1861. It was very bad where we were. A gang of what they called border ruffians hit our farms. Jed and I were the only ones who got out alive."

Curtis's blue eyes got very big. "How old were you?" He whispered in awe.

"I was nine, Jed was seven. Jed was very brave. He saved my life."

Curtis was deeply impressed. "Wow! How did you save Uncles Joshua's life, Uncle Jed?"

"We'd better talk later, Curtis," said Jed as the wagon pulled up to the Dunham's hotel, the Green Tree House. It was a big old rambling wooden house that had obviously been added to again and again. Brick chimneys sprouted here and there.

Beth couldn't help but see her husband give a glance at the false-fronted building next door. It was the Cheat Lake Ale House. Corey Dunham, too, noticed the direction of his new brother-in-law's gaze as the three men and one strong boy unloaded the luggage. "They play a good brand of poker over there, Joshua, Jed. You'd be surprised. Mine owners and managers and rich tourists drop a pretty penny now and again."

"Oh?" Heyes pretended not to care as they walked into the hotel's front lobby – an old-fashioned wood-paneled room with a big brick fireplace and a handsome walnut desk where the keys were kept. Corey went to sit at the desk and handed Heyes and Jed each a key. A dark wood staircase with turned railings led to the upper stories. "I'm here to relax and be with Beth and you folks, not to play cards. Jed and I want to go fishing with Curtis. Don't we Jed?"

"Sure do!" said Curry with real interest. He loved few things more than spending a lazy few hours with a pole in his hand. He saw some antique poles hanging on the walls of the lobby.

Curtis looked at his father eagerly. "May I, Pa? Please? After I get my chores done?"

"No," said the senior Dunham dourly. His son tried to hide how crushed he was, but his Pa went on. "What use is it to go fishing after you get your chores done, son? You got to go out early to catch fish. We'll go out there all four together real early one morning. But not tomorrow. I'm sure your uncles could use some rest tonight."

Now Curtis perked up. "Thank you, Pa! I'll work real hard at my chores."

"Thank you, son. I know you will," Corey put a proud hand on his son's shoulder. "Now go get your mother and your sisters, boy."

But before Corey could leave the room, Barbara appeared, wearing a calico apron scattered with flour. She had a little girl holding to each hand. One was a chubby toddler who was scarcely old enough to walk without her mother's support, while the other was a curly-haired, sparkly-eyed girl of about three. "Welcome to the Green Tree!" said Barbara Dunham with a wide smile. "Hello, Beth! Cat, gentlemen, meet our girls. This is our little Virginia, and our big girl, Charlotte. I see you've met their brother Curtis."

"Yes, Ma'am," said the Kid. He went down on one knee to greet his little new nieces. He spoke softly so he wouldn't frighten them. "Hi girls. I'm your Uncle Jed, and this is your Aunt Cat. And this guy over here is your Uncle Joshua. He married your Aunt Beth."

The boys could see that these youngsters were friendly, used to seeing lots of strangers at their hotel. "Hi Uncle Jed!" piped bold little Charlotte as she pecked her handsome new uncle on the cheek. Then she went over to Heyes, who scooped her up in his arms and gave her a kiss. Beth, close at his side, reached over to add her own kiss.

"Hi Charlotte! I'm glad to be part of your family!" Heyes smiled. "And yours, Virginia!" Heyes released Charlotte so the child could greet Cat. Then Heyes bent down to greet Virginia. The littler girl wasn't quite as bold as her older sister, but she didn't pull back from these strange men. She giggled and grinned as Cat came over to take her in her arms. Meanwhile, Beth and Barbara were hugging happily.

An old lady's quavering voice called down from a room above them. "Beth, you must bring those gentlemen of yours and your new sister-in-law up to meet me. My knee won't stand going down all those stairs."

"That's our aunt Bertha," said Barbara. "She lives on the second floor and can't come down very often because of her arthritis. It surely is good to have you all here! Come back to the kitchen, girls."

The boys and their wives climbed the front staircase. They found Aunt Bertha in a suite on the second floor. She was a striking-looking lean old woman with her silver hair piled high on her head. It was easy to see that she had once been a beauty. She still had considerable presence. She stood up from an upholstered arm chair to greet them. "So, I finally get to meet Beth's mystery man. I was expecting Beth's description to be wrong. Rose colored glasses of love and all that. But you're handsome enough for anybody, Mr. Heyes, despite the scars. And Mr. Curry, you are certainly well worth a good look yourself. With a lady this lovely, I'm sure you'll have beautiful children. Welcome to the family!" Her watery old eyes shown with humor as she extended her arms to take Cat in a warm hug.

"We're mighty pleased to be in your family, Ma'am," said Heyes, leaning over to kiss his Aunt Bertha's hand gallantly. He tried not to show how taken aback he was that the old lady both knew who they were and really was obviously happy to meet them.

"I'm glad to meet you, Ma'am," said the Kid, taking the old lady's slender, trembling, blue-veined hand.

"Thank you!" said Aunt Bertha. "So, what does my great nephew think of having two outlaw uncles?"

Heyes and the Kid exchanged a quick glance. "I'm afraid he doesn't know that, yet," said Heyes softly. "Corey introduced us just as Jed and Joshua and the boy didn't seem to know any better. We thought we'd better talk to his parents in private before we set the boy straight. I don't have a clue of how they want to handle it."

"Oh!" said Aunt Bertha. "Then you'd better close that door so we can talk, Mr. Curry. Thank you. I suppose Corey and Barbara either prefer for you to introduce yourselves or maybe they hope that they can keep Curtis from finding out."

"If they think that, they'll be proven wrong in no time," said Heyes, sounding worried.

"Yes, indeed," said Aunt Barbara. "Mr. Curry might be able to get away with it as long as he doesn't use his nick name, but Mr. Heyes, you will have trouble. And as soon as you put your two names together, you're done for. So I guess you'll need to tell the boy as soon as you can. I don't have to tell you to be careful."

"We've had a lot of practice at it lately, Ma'am," said Heyes. "I just don't want to upset his parents. Curtis will cope with it alright, at least in time. It's good of you to treat us so well, considering. We really are beholden to you."

The elderly lady sat back down and looked at her new nephews-in-law, both standing respectfully with their hats in their hands. "I thought you, at least, Mr. Heyes, were such a sophisticate. Who taught you boys such good country manners?"

"Our parents, on our farms in Kansas, Ma'am," said Curry. "We might've forgot a lot when we went bad, but not how to be polite."

"Well, you don't have to keep calling me Ma'am, considering we're family now. Bertha will do, or Aunt Bertha if you prefer."

"In that case, you can just call me Heyes," said the darker of the two former outlaws, flashing a smile at his new relative.

"Really? If that's what you want, then that's what I'll do, Heyes. Is that what you call him when you're alone, my dear?" asked Aunt Bertha with a chuckle.

"Yes, Aunt," said Beth, as Heyes put his arm around her. "Or sometimes Joshua, since he wants to take it as his legal middle name. Joshua was how I knew him when we were first courting. Before I walked out on him, poor man." Heyes gave his sweetie a squeeze so she would know that he had fully forgiven her.

"And I'm Jed, and yeah, that's what she calls me," said Curry, putting his arm around Cat.

"Always, Bertha. And I'm Cat to everybody every place," said Mrs. Curry with a wink and a wicked laugh that Bertha immediately joined in. "We're awful glad to be in your family, even if the relationship is really kind of remote."

"As far as I'm concerned, those boys are brothers," said Bertha in her quavering voice. "So what could be closer than that?"