A row of strangers leaned on a bar, ignoring each other. Each cowboy-hatted man was thinking his own thoughts. Jed Curry sipped on his beer, thinking hard. He had one other town, at a stretch two, where he thought he had a realistic chance of picking up a deputy. Beyond that, the men scattered in little towns across the West were such long shots that he considered them not worth the train fare. His first trip into a sheriff's office hadn't made him feel like his list of realistic options was any longer. The Kid took another sip of beer.
"Curry!" said an all-too-familiar voice behind him. The Kid turned cautiously, keeping his famous right hand well away from the grips of his Colt.
The man standing behind him was wearing a badge. It was the local sheriff, Coot Harris, whose office the Kid had just left. The sheriff didn't sound pleased. "Curry, I told you to leave town. I meant it. Get on your horse and get out of here. Now."
The rest of the saloon crowd fell silent. Everyone in the place was watching this tense exchange between two men wearing badges. The piano player froze with his hands above the keys. Everyone there knew Harris, and they had all heard of Kid Curry.
Curry kept his voice light. "Sheriff Harris, I don't have any intention of making trouble." He kept his hands far from his gun belt, determined to give the sheriff no excuse to fire.
"So why are you still here?" You could have cut the silence with a knife.
"I don't have a horse in this town. I came by train. I'll leave by the next train in the morning. I'm still looking for a deputy. I'll find one someplace else. Come have a drink with me, Sheriff." Curry sounded friendly and hopeful. The tension was starting to go out of this confrontation and most of the men turned back to the bar. There would be no shooting today. The piano player went on with My Darling Clementine at just the note where he had left off.
The sheriff made no move to join Curry, but the Kid went on, "Or don't join me. But I'm not here to make trouble. Honestly. I'm just trying to do my job. I want to do it right."
Harris looked at Curry in puzzlement. Then he began to smile, "Well, Curry, I'll accept that drink. But you ain't hiring my son."
"I understand that, Sheriff." said Curry.
"Curry, you've really gone straight? You and Heyes both?" asked Harris softly as he leaned on the bar next to the infamous gunman.
"Yeah."
Harris looked skeptical. "You would say that. How long you been straight?"
Curry took a swig of beer. "Pretty near eight years."
"You. Straight. As good as you were doing on the other side – why?"
"Good? You mean bad. We got to seeing how much harm we did to regular folks like we used to be – farmers and ranchers losing their life savings cause of us. We were sick of doing harm. We were also sick of running and being chased that hard. When we found out about the amnesty offer, we went for it straight off."
Harris was honestly interested to learn more. "But you were with gangs for years, bringing in thousands. If you felt like that, why'd it take so long for you straighten out?"
Curry stared blankly across at the saloon's mirror. "I don't rightly know." Curry stopped and considered. "Guess we were bringing in money so fast and running from the law even faster . . . Not that I blame the law – but they were making things awful hot for us. Made it darned hard to stop and think. But when we came across a family we ruined in one of our bank jobs - and there were other folks we'd got into trouble. Well, we finally got to thinking."
"And how'd you decide you wanted to be a sheriff?" Harris seemed totally thrown that Kid Curry would do such a thing.
The Kid's voice started out angry. "Decide nothing! The governor ordered me. Four governors ordered the both of us – it was sheriff for me, and college teacher for Heyes, or no amnesty. I'd rather just keep a hotel and saloon, nice and quiet with my wife beside me. But if I got to keep the peace, so be it. It's important for any town. Hope I'll do a good job. I'll sure try. But I kinda' need a deputy." By the end of this speech, Jed Curry sounded earnest.
"I see. Hm. I see." Harris studied Curry as if for the first time. "Wait – Heyes – teaching college? Teaching what?"
Curry nodded. "Math. He's good at it. Real, real good. At math and at teaching. He always was. Figured up all our plans – times, routes - everything. And he taught 'em to the boys. Now he's got the learning to teach college boys and do it right. Two degrees from Columbia University in New York City. Got the highest honors they give. He might not find anybody to trust him to teach, but he's got to try. That's on the amnesty papers."
"I still ain't going to let you take my son away, but maybe I'll let you stay the night in town, Kid. Maybe – if you really don't cause any trouble."
Curry corrected the name the sheriff had called him. "Call me Jed. I don't want to use Kid now that I've gone straight. That's the name for an outlaw. I'm trying to be a new man. Do the right thing, this time around."
Harris looked down. "These glasses are gettin' low. I'm buying, Jed."
"I won't say no, Sheriff. Hunting deputies is thirsty work." Curry drained his glass.
The wiry veteran sheriff darted a look at the famous man next to him. "Coot. Which way you headed next?"
"West, Coot. Why d'you ask?"
"Long as it's away from here, it's fine with me. You former outlaws make me nervous."
"Why specially, Coot?"
"Cause I know how tough it is to go straight and stay that way." The old lawman locked eyes with the man next to him.
Curry nodded. So now he knew. "How's the weather been out here this spring? I've been out East the last while."
The next day Curry was on the train headed west. As he rode, it occurred to him that he had forgotten to check with the telegrapher to see if there were any messages for him from West Virginia or from Louisville, where Wilde was still Sheriff and Joe the bartender was still running Christy's Place in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Curry.
"Oh well," thought Curry, "I'll get it later. Poor Heyes."
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As a matter of fact, Heyes wasn't feeling at all sorry for himself at that time. He and Beth lay side by side in their hotel room bed, caressing one another in delight. "God, it's good to be able to say 'I love you!' so you can hear it and not just read it," said Heyes, matching the words with a passionate kiss.
When her lips were free, Mrs. Heyes whispered to her husband, "My love, I can't tell you how sweet it is to hear your voice again! That voice is so precious to me – to us all. Why did you take the chance of riding back here at a gallop?"
Heyes took his wife's hand and kissed it. "I wanted to share the miracle with you. I wanted to say 'I love you!' And . . . I was so afraid I'd lose it again, any minute. I could still, I guess."
Beth nodded. "You could. You'll have to speak with Dr. Leutze about what you can do to preserve what you've gotten back. He tells me he's seen such healing before. He can explain it to you. It's not a miracle – or no more than any other healing is on this earth. But you don't dare to abuse the privilege."
Heyes stood up from the bed with his eyes cast down. "No, I don't. I'm humbled to be – how would you put it? To be pardoned again. Excuse me, honey, but as you say, I should go and talk to the doctor about it as soon as possible." Heyes bent over to pull on his boots. "And then I have a pile of application letters to write. Though I wish to heaven I could sign them with any name but Hannibal Heyes. After having Governor Hogg of Texas say 'no' to my request, even the 'yes' answers from the other three governors and the one from Senator Warren of Wyoming that came today could mean nothing. I'll have to go forward with my past naked to every potential employer – whether it's a university, or some little business that needs a bookkeeper."
Beth stood and put her arms around her man. "Heyes, I wish you'd just rest tonight. You've been through a lot. We can go back to New York and take your request about your name before a judge. With the help of that canny young lawyer of yours, you might still be able to take Joshua as your middle name. Then you can do those applications."
Heyes looked skeptical. "Maybe. You're right – I shouldn't blight any chance of employment with that infamous name of mine before I'm sure that I have to. I'll go talk to Doctor Leutze. Maybe we can go back to New York together. Maybe tomorrow. I mean, why wait? And Charlie can go with us. I'm glad he gets at least one day in your sister's house. It's such a good place. It's hard to believe it's only three months since Charlie lost Marie." He ran his hands through his still short hair in a gesture of worry and tension that Beth knew well.
Beth Heyes. "Yes, love. We've come a long way since you didn't know whether you might be imprisoned forever, or hung. Now you stand ready to become a professor. If only . . ."
Heyes nodded. "Yes, if only I'm lucky. I've been so lucky to get my degrees and amnesty and marriage and now to get well so soon. I'm sure I don't deserve my good fortune. But with you by my side, I'm awfully glad to have it." He bent over to kiss her, then he went to find Dr. Leutze.
Heyes found Dr. Leutze sitting on the porch, enjoying the late spring weather. "So, Mr. Professor-to-be, how are you feeling?" asked the doctor with a grin not quite hiding his worry. "Please sit down and talk to me."
Heyes sank wearily into the Adirondack chair next to his doctor and said, "That's exactly what I'm here to do, Doctor Leutze. Please tell me what I should and shouldn't do if I want to keep talking, and understanding, and reading, and writing."
"Are you ready to listen to me, Heyes? To pay attention and be serious about it?" Dr. Leutze looked into his patient's concerned brown eyes and read his answer before he spoke.
Heyes spoke quietly. "Yes, Doctor. I think I have to. I have a wife. I want a career. We want children. I can't just do what I want anymore. I have to consider other people every minute. Tell me the truth. Please."
The Doctor's sensitive pale eyes looked back at Heyes. "Then Heyes, let's go up to my room. This needs to be private." He didn't need to tell Heyes why the conservation had to be kept private. In telling Heyes how to stay safe, he would also be revealing what would put him in the worst danger. That was not information that Hannibal Heyes could safely have out in the world.
Leutze got up and Heyes followed his doctor into the hotel and up to the stairs to his second floor room. The conversation continued with the doctor standing while Heyes sat in an arm chair feeling more and more anxious.
Dr. Leutze began, "First, let me tell you what I think just happened to you. We can't really know all the details, but it's clear that the Kid's fist gave you a bruise over the same place that was injured before. It's not even sore now, is it?" Heyes shook his head silently.
Leutze continued, "It was a mild concussion. It's evidently gone now. Whatever was causing trouble with your accessing the language centers in your brain – probably just some minor swelling from the concussion – has healed. You're very lucky that it wasn't worse and didn't last longer. It would have been very easy for the damage to be much worse and longer lasting." Heyes nodded. He knew that all too well.
"Heyes, you've been terrible careless with your own health. You've always seemed to assume you were invincible. The heroic Hannibal Heyes can get through anything. Sorry – it ain't true. I wish to God it were. I hope this shows you how vulnerable you are. I hate to point it out, but I must. One of the things you have to remember is that your partner didn't meant to hurt you – but he did. He didn't hit you very hard. I don't have to tell you that you have enemies out there who do want to hurt you. And there are all kinds of dangers from other quarters. Even a high-spirited student could pose a threat. You must never reveal what happened to anyone outside the family and your closest friends. If anyone attacked you badly in that spot, the damage could be permanent." Heyes swallowed hard and nodded again. The doctor was pulling no punches.
"Aside of your enemies, you still have to worry about accidents. You must avoid any kind of concussion, any blow to the head, even centered elsewhere in your brain. You have to keep that amazing head of yours safe. Listen to me Heyes: no boxing, no wrestling, no fighting of any kind." Heyes nodded. He could have guessed all that. "No baseball. None of that crazy new sport they call football. It's a blight on colleges."
Heyes grinned and nodded again. "I've never played football and I don't want to. Guys get killed all the time. Doesn't appeal to me. But baseball – oh well. Waste of a decent sandlot outfielder. The Kid's the real baseball talent. He an amazing pitcher, when he's in practice. Speed and control. I used to catch him sometimes."
The doctor wasn't about to be put off of his grim list of things Heyes was never to do again. "Never again, Heyes. Never. No rock climbing or adventuring around in risky places where you might fall. And Heyes, I know this is a tough one, but please be darned careful about riding horseback. I wish there was some kind of helmet you could wear. One bad fall could do it."
Heyes looked stricken. He wasn't just a very good rider, he loved riding. Even knowing that his words couldn't change anything, he couldn't help saying, "Doctor, riding is survival out West. There aren't exactly cabs running where you want to go. If there's not a train or a stage, riding is it."
Leutze nodded. "I understand that, Heyes. That's why I didn't say you couldn't do it. I would if I could. But I know it isn't practical to prohibit it. Just be very careful. Please. Heyes . . ."
Heyes sighed. "I'll do my best. I never was crazy about falling off of horses."
The doctor knew that what he was saying to one of his closest friends was some of the worst news the man had ever heard. "Of course. And in general, you must avoid anything that could cause a bad fall or a blow to the head. I think you have the general idea. Honestly, I thought you knew all this before. I told you to be careful, when I first started working with you. You seem to have forgotten somehow. I hate to have to say it again."
"I know. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry," Heyes whispered, running his fingers through his short hair. He had been going to propose going west to help the Kid for a little while. Now he couldn't even think of such a thing. Such adventures were off limits to him forever, unless he was willing to put his career, his family, and his very existence in acute jeopardy. He felt crushed by this list of prohibitions. Risk had been a way of life for him before. It never could be that way again. He had a wife. He wanted a family. He had in-laws, and friends. They had to come before any of his own addiction to danger. But then, at least theoretically, a college professor had no need to deal with the risks that had been the day-to-day reality for an outlaw.
It was a subdued Heyes who returned to his hotel room. He looked around the room. Beth wasn't there. He felt tempted to go and find her, but instead he decided to be practical and write letters until dinner time. Heyes settled down to tell his various correspondents, including the Kid, that he was returning to New York to meet with his lawyer and continue with applications. He hoped there would soon be interviews.
Just before dinner, Heyes put down his pen and went in search of more consoling company than his own. He found Charlie sitting with Dr. Leutze on the front porch as the sun got low in the sky.
The two men looked up at Heyes as he came out the door. "Well, here he is. How you feeling, Heyes?" asked Charlie.
"Stupid. And lucky. Thanks to you both for coming to look after me. I'm just sorry I needed it. I'm supposed to be helping the world now that I've got my amnesty. Instead I'm the one who needed rescuing."
"Thinking nothing of it, Heyes," said Charlie. "What are friends for?"
"Really, Charlie, thank you," said Heyes.
"Actually, we understand you did some heroic rescuing before we got here," said Dr. Leutze.
"Huh?" Heyes didn't get the reference.
Charlie laughed. "That little boy you let out of the closet with your pick locks. His mother and father think you're an authentic hero. Benton, come over here!" He called out.
Heyes chuckled in his turn. "It wasn't exactly hard. Took about 15 seconds."
The boys' father was suddenly coming around the side of the porch toward the three friends. "Mr. Heyes," said Mr. Benton. "Congratulations on your recovery. It's miraculous – and well deserved. Now that you can understand me, I want to thank you properly."
Heyes stood up from his chair and shook the man's hand. "Really, sir, it was my pleasure. No trouble at all. I'm just glad your son is a brave little guy and got right over it."
Benton looked puzzled. "But why won't you accept money? I know you've just finished college degrees and you don't have the money you stole. You must need funds."
Heyes spoke solemnly, "I do, sir. But I find decency and self-respect a whole lot more valuable."
Benton looked at Heyes with something approaching admiration. "What about the respect of a cynical Washington lawyer? Congratulations on a whole lot more than getting language back, Mr. Heyes."
"Thank you, sir. I'm doing my best. Did you say you're a Washington lawyer? If you could . . . no, just leave it. If you don't mind, I owe my former advisor more than thirty seconds thanks for coming all the way out here from New York. You might say almost anything about me, but don't say I don't try to be polite. Which means I will ask something of you, after all. Could you please give my best to your wife and son?"
As Benton to convey Heyes' message to his family, the former outlaw sat down and talked with his mentors for a while. He let them know that he and Beth would be headed back to New York in the morning. Homer and Leutze agreed to accompany the Heyeses. Soon, Heyes excused himself. They would have plenty of time to talk with Charlie and Dr. Leutze on the train. But he had little time left with his in-laws. And there was one he wanted to speak with privately.
Heyes found his nephew in the stable, sitting on a hay bale reading. "Excuse me, Curtis?" said Heyes. The boy looked up, started. Heyes had approached so quietly that his nephew hadn't heard him.
"Yes, Uncle Heyes?" Curtis sprang to his feet, trying to hide the book that he was reading when he was supposed to be doing his chores.
"Beth and I are going back to New York on the morning train."
Heyes could see the disappointment in his nephew's young face. "You have to go so soon?"
"Yes. I have things to do there that can't wait. Like going to court with my request to take Joshua as my middle name. There's a bunch of stuff I can't do until that's settled."
"Yeah, Uncle Heyes, I understand."
"But Curtis, I've gotten kind of used to having a nephew, after I never did before I'm gonna miss you. Don't know where we'll be, but don't forget me."
Curtis's mouth came opened and stayed that way for a moment before he remembered to close it. He didn't know quite what to say. But he figured out what to do. He dropped his book and ran over to give his uncle a big hug. Heyes hugged him back hard. He really needed that hug.
As they stood apart, Curtis said, "Uncle Heyes - I just hope you find a job you like a lot. And that I can go visit you, wherever it is."
"Thanks, Curtis. We'd love to have you any time. And Curtis, your Aunt Beth and I are trying to give you a cousin or two." Heyes winked at his nephew and tousled his hair affectionately before we went back into the hotel to wash up for supper.
Heyes found Cat already seated at the dinner table before anyone else was there. "Cat, Beth and I are going back to New York in the morning. Or – I haven't told her yet – but that's what I want to do. I don't want to wait. I have to find out what's going to happen. I know this is awkward for you, and I'm sorry," said Heyes quietly. "What would you like to do while you're waiting for Jed to get things settled? If you want to come and stay with us in New York, you sure can. The apartment is small, but there's space for a roll away bed that our landlady has. Or we could find another spot for you if that's too tight. Or if you want to stay here, I'm sure Barbara will be glad to have you. It can't be for very long, honestly. Jed'll get things all set in Louisville real soon – you know that."
Cat looked earnestly at Heyes. "I know no such thing, Heyes. Jed faces a real hard time. It could be weeks. I hope not months, 'cause I've got a child – his child - to deliver in just a few month. I want the whole family to be safe. And I miss Jed every minute."
Heyes felt terrible for his part in all this. "I wish I could help more, Cat. Honestly, you can come stay with us."
Cat's serious blue eyes looked into Heyes' equally serious brown ones. "If you don't mind, Heyes, I'd be glad to do that for a while. But then I'm going to go stay with an aunt in Kansas. It's been years and she wants to see me. I wired her and explained, as much as I could. I knew you'd be leaving soon, now that you've got your voice and reading and stuff back. My aunt said she'd be glad to have me for a while. And then I'll be pretty close when Jed's ready for me to go home."
Heyes nodded. He had heard the slight hesitation before she mentioned Kansas to him. She knew that Jed and Heyes both cringed at any reference to Kansas, with its bloody history in their lives. He hoped this wasn't why it had been so many years since Cat had seen her aunt. "I know you want to be close to Jed so you can be there as fast as possible when he calls for you. And until then . . ."
"I want to buy maternity clothes and some baby stuff in New York – much better than here or out west. I'm a selfish woman." Cat grinned.
"Oh yes, we all know how selfish you are. You're wonderful, Cat, and it's going to be hard to have you leave us to go back West. But I know that's where you belong."
"You do, too, Heyes. Come out west and teach." Cat looked at Heyes with something approaching longing. Things were always better when the partners were together.
"I will, if I can. But first, there has to be a job."
Then the rest of the family was gathering around the table. "Heyes, tell us about the schools you want to apply to," said Barbara.
"We'll, I've applied to Harvard. I don't expect anything from it, but you never know. I've got a friend there – or I did – when I was Joshua Smith. And there's . . ."
Charlie pitched in, and Dr. Leutze too, as they talked about schools, but mostly Heyes held forth. When Heyes finished discussing his studies and his career aspirations, Corey asked him about how he got interested in math. And then Curtis wanted outlaw stories. Everybody loved hearing Heyes talk. And he loved talking. Long after they gathered family and friends finished eating, Beth sat next to her husband and held his hand while he talked and smiled and laughed and talked some more while his friends and family laughed and smiled around him. Heyes' bright eyes were aglow with joy. From his enforced silence, in less than a day, Heyes had gone back to his usual way of being. He could light up a room with his smile and his voice. Beth thought what a wonderful father Heyes would make, telling stories at his own table to their own children. If only . . .
