The sun hadn't been up long, but Sheriff Jedediah Curry sat at his desk looking at his mail in between taking sips of black coffee. There was quite a pile of letters and official notices left from his and Wilde's weeks away from Louisville. The borrowed deputy who had been watching the town during their absence hadn't seen fit to do any filing. Curry was sorting the documents into rough piles. He shifted a letter from one stack to another uncertainly. Filing wasn't his strong point.

"Look at all this!" griped the sheriff under his breath. "Wish I had Heyes here to help. Dang that Wilde, leaving this stuff for me!" Deputy Billy Healy hid a smile at his boss, the man of action.

Curry went back to reading and opening the newest letters Healy had brought. "Look at this," exclaimed the Kid, waving a sheet of formal stationary. "It's a letter from Governor Routt!"

"Governor of what state?" asked Healy, who was still sleepy after a long night guarding a noisy, drunken prisoner.

"This one! Wake up, Healy!" growled the Kid.

"Yes, sir!" Healy snapped to attention. Then the young man stifled a yawn.

Curry said gruffly, "I know you just moved here, but you got to know who's who. Governor John Routt took over from Cooper in January. The governor wants me in Denver to finish swearing in. They just started things in New York – can't finish without the governor. If nothing big comes up, I'll leave you in charge day after tomorrow and go over there. Then I'll swear you in officially when I get back. Alright?"

Healy yawned again and nodded. "Yes, boss."

Curry laughed indulgently. "Healy, we really got to get ourselves another deputy. If anything goes wrong while I'm gone, you're gonna be up the creek without a paddle. I know some local guys who can help out, but they ain't trained like you're gettin' to be. I'll get you together with them today. Get out there and do the first patrol now, Healy. Try to stay awake. And I'll try to get us some help."

Healy smiled at his boss at he got up and checked his gun and ammunition. "Yes, boss. I'll check Christy's Place extra carefully. Say, boss, are you ever gonna change the name of your place to Curry's?"

Curry looked out the window toward the place he and his wife ran. "I don't reckon so. Folks know the name of Christy. It's been Christy's Place for 20 years or more, back to when Cat's father founded it. It's good business to stay with an established name."

Billy chuckled. "You sound more like a businessman than like an outlaw, boss."

"Good thing, since that's what I am nowadays - when I ain't wearing this badge," said Curry with quiet pride. "Get out there, Billy."

"Yes, boss," said Healy and went out the door.

An hour later, Curry was still messing with his papers. There was a knock on the door and Curry leapt up to answer it. Out on the boardwalk he saw a pair of men in badges. They weren't smiling. The new sheriff internally reminded himself that he didn't have any reason to sweat any longer when he saw lawmen around. Or he hoped he didn't. He wasn't at all sure how warm a welcome he would get from his fellow sheriffs and their deputies.

"Come in, gentlemen, and sit down," said the Kid, hiding his uneasiness, "What can I do for you?"

The taller of the men, who sported a grey mustache and a large tan hat, answered for the pair. "It's more what we can do for you, Sheriff, as fellow lawmen." His words were welcoming, but his face stayed blank.

"That's right nice of you," said Curry as his guests followed him into his office.

"Yeah," said the taller sheriff. "I'm Sheriff Brevort, from Boulder, and this is Hopper from Longmont, up north of here." He gestured to a shorter, heavier man with a crooked nose that had obviously been broken in the past.

Hopper added, "Yes, we want to offer you any help we can, as you're getting starting in the post."

"Thank you!" said Curry, reaching out a hand that was shaken by each man in turn. "And I know where Longmont is. I worked here with Wilde for five years before he stepped down."

"Oh?" said Hopper in his bass voice. "So old Wilde had a big-name outlaw riding with him all that time and didn't tell nobody." The sheriff of Longmont's blue eyes twinkled. Curry guessed his fellow lawman found the idea of an outlaw deputy amusing, although he knew better than to say so in front of Kid Curry himself. Brevort looked more serious; he was watching the new sheriff closely.

"Yeah, well, he didn't brag about it. He knew I was straight when he asked me to help him out. The amnesty deal was a secret," said Curry, hoping his history on the side of the law would help him to make connections with his fellow sheriffs. "Wilde had to keep me under wraps. But he taught me a bunch." He paused to pour mugs of coffee for his visitors.

The Sheriff of Boulder said, "Well, anyhow, if there's anything we can do for you, you just say the word. We heard you'd gotten a telephone. Here's my card, with my number."

"That's right nice of you," said Curry as he took the card. "Ain't it something? I can just call up the next town if I've got news for you. You got one of these new-fangled gadgets on your desk yet, Sheriff Hopper?"

Hopper shook his head. "No, not yet. We'll get it soon, I reckon. You talked to anybody on yours yet, Mr. Curry?"

The Kid was pleased to note that while the sheriff might smile at the thought of a tame outlaw, he spoke to the most famous gunman in the West with respect. Curry said, "Just Heyes. He called from back East. It about made me jump out of my skin when that thing commenced to ring." Hopper chuckled at the thought of the famously dangerous Kid Curry being frightening by a bell.

"So you and Heyes are still friends?" asked Brevort.

Curry didn't see any reason to keep the real relationship a secret any longer. "More than friends. We're family. Our Ma's was cousins."

The two sheriffs from out of town looked curiously at Curry, who promptly changed the subject. "Have you fellows heard of anybody out gunnin' for me?"

Brevort and Hopper exchanged a tense look. Brevort nodded. "Yeah, we have. Rumors of a couple of hot-headed young guys headed your way from someplace up north. Maybe Montana. Wish I could say who it might be. I just don't know. You know any more than that, Lefty?"

"Nah," said Hopper "None of the boys seem to want to say. I guess they figure if you knew, Mr. Curry, you'd make short work of their friends. Are you really as fast as they say?"

Curry shrugged. "How do I know? They don't never say it when I'm listening. I've never been beat, but I ain't faced every man there is. One of these days somebody's gonna be faster. I'm just a man and I ain't gettin' any younger. I just hope I'm not wearing this badge by the time anybody's faster. I hope, by that time, I'll have passed it along to somebody else so I can just be a businessman, a husband, and a father. But right now, while I need to serve, I'll do my very best. I'll serve this town with everything I've got. While I wear this badge, I've got to stay the fastest." Curry reached up and touched the badge.

The two sheriffs on the other side of the desk stared at Jed Curry, impressed by this impassioned speech. Finally, Brevort spoke. "Welcome to the law, Mr. Curry. They call me Davey and my friend here is Lefty – after the guy with the wicked left hook who smashed his nose. So, you mind if you call you Kid?"

"Actually, guys," said Curry, "I do mind. I'm trying to leave the outlaw handle behind. I prefer to go by Jed."

"Glad to know you, Jed," said Hopper with a smile. But Brevort only looked into the cool, blue eyes of the new sheriff.

When Billy Healy got back, Curry told his deputy about the visitors he had missed. "I was afraid the local lawmen might not welcome you so nice," said Healy. "I'm glad they're offering to help us out."

Jed Curry nodded. "Yeah. They're being nice – and sensible. I bet we'll see them pretty often for a while. They may say they're here to help, but they'll be keeping a real close eye on me. Do you blame 'em?"

"I suppose not, sir. But we can still use the help," said Billy. But he looked uneasy.

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Cat, Beth, and Heyes were having dinner at the Heyes' small apartment. "You got yourself a good deal here, Heyes," said Cat with a sparkle in her eye. "A woman who'll support you and cook this good. Polly and I had a nice dinner the day before yesterday at that grill on Lexington Avenue, but this is better."

"Thank you, Cat," said Beth. "I'm supporting Heyes only until he gets work – then he'll be supporting me and our children." She reached for her husband's hand, knowing that Cat's remark, intended lightly, could have hurt a man who was working so hard at his applications and looking for accounting work.

There was a knock on the door. Heyes opened the door to find a slender young man with a dark mustache. A boy of about 4 years old was hidden behind him the man and looking around his coattails at the stranger in the building. Heyes recognized the man, but they hadn't met to speak to each other before. The ex-outlaw smiled at the boy and said to his father, "What can I do for you, Mr.?"

"I'm Ed Chase. I live downstairs. Mrs. Westmoreland, the land lady, asked me to watch her place and her telephone while she's out of town. Are you Miss Warren's new husband?" the man at the door asked.

"Yes, sir. Beth and I just got married. My name's Heyes," Heyes wasn't sure if the boy was old enough to have heard of the outlaw Hannibal Heyes, so darted a cautious glance at the boy before adding, "Hannibal Heyes."

The boy's big dark eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he heard the name. His father caught his breath softly, but he remained polite. He said, "Oh. There's a call for you, Mr. Heyes. I'm afraid it's from a sheriff. The sheriff of Louisville, Colorado. I hope it isn't trouble for you, after your heroism I read about the other day in the papers."

Heyes smiled to dispel Chase's fears. "No, sir. That's my partner, Jed Curry. Probably he just wants to talk with his wife. She's staying with us."

Heyes turned and said over his shoulder. "Cat, your husband's on the telephone downstairs."

Cat smiled brilliantly and got to her feet, "Wonderful! Maybe he's ready for me to go home!"

Heyes and Cat walked down the narrow staircase to the first floor and Chase let them into Ms. Westmoreland's fussily-furnished apartment. Chase's little boy tagged along, sneaking shy, wondering glances at the celebrity living in the same building with him. "It's alright, son," said Heyes, bending down to talk to the boy his own eye level. "I don't bite, or shoot either. Not anymore. I'm going to be a teacher." The little boy backed silently away, not much comforted by this. He wasn't old enough to know teachers yet.

"Wow, I haven't talked on one of these things before," said Cat, staring at the unfamiliar instrument.

"Here you are, Mrs. Curry," said Mr. Chase, handing her the phone's handset. "Just listen here, and talk in this part on the table. Talk loud – your husband is a long way off."

"Too far. Thank you, sir," said Cat. Then, seeing Heyes' pointed look, Chase withdrew to just outside the barely opened door of the front room so Heyes and Mrs. Curry could have their privacy.

"Hello Jed! It's Cat!" the new sheriff's wife shouted into the phone "Are you safe?"

Sixteen hundred miles away, Jed Curry shouted back. "I'm fine. Just mighty lonely for you. It's not the same over this telephone thing, but I was hankering to hear your voice. Are you well, and the little guy?"

"I'm fine, Jed. And so is your son or daughter. I'm just missing you awfully. How's Christy's doing?"

"They're doing alright, Cat. They miss you. Joe's running things pretty good, but it's not the same business with you gone so long. Profits have slipped some."

"I've got to get back there! Jed, do you think it's safe for me to go home?"

Curry was cautious about what he said over an instrument whose security he wasn't yet sure of. He also didn't want to frighten his wife too much when there was nothing she could do about it. "Not yet. I've got a good deputy, but he's damn young. Nobody's come gunning for me yet. The law men in the towns around here are being friendlier than I thought. But I still think you ought to wait a while. I'll call again and let you know. In the meantime, find somebody who can ride out with you when I give you the word."

"I'll do that, Jed. I don't know who could come out with me, but I'll find somebody. You know how people are – a woman travelling by herself would look real improper. I'll drop by my aunt's place in Kansas for a few days on the way. I can't wait to see you. I'm showing more. So I'd better be at home soon in decent privacy. How's that new deputy doing? You never told me his name."

"His name is Billy Healy. I know, I know, Billy and the Kid. But he's a good deputy, so far. Very upright and proper, as deputies go. He calls me sir."

"That's as it should be, Jed. You're the law, now."

"Yes, Cat. I'll be over to Denver to get sworn in by the governor tomorrow. Well, I guess I should go and let you be. I can't wait to hold you and junior close, honey."

"I love you, Jed!"

"I love you, too! Good-bye!"

"Hold on, Jed. Heyes has something to tell you."

"Good news?"

"Well, maybe. No job yet, but he's trying. Good-bye, darling. Give my best to all the boys at Christy's Place and tell them I'll be there to whip them back into line soon!"

"Good-bye, love!"

Cat, looking very sorry to give up even such distant touch with her husband, handed the phone to Heyes.

"Hey there, partner!" shouted Heyes. "How are you?"

Curry hollered back. "I'm fine. How about you?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I've got news."

"Well?"

"My name hearing is tomorrow morning. I've met with my lawyer a couple of times. Jed, he thinks I might have to tell that story about Hannibal. You know the one."

"Well, I sort of do, Heyes, since you never would tell me all of it. Are you worried?"

"I am. We think the judge might, maybe, want to know some awkward things. I don't want to tell them anything that could cause you problems. You know, the other amnesty . . ."

Curry cut off his partner, "Heyes, you tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Don't worry about me. Alright, partner?"

"Alright. We'll we'd better finish our dinner. Beth fixed us some fish that's so good, Kid."

"Don't call me that!" Jed was getting really tired of correcting his partner on this point.

"Sorry, partner. After all these years, it's just automatic."

"And I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner. I forgot about the time difference. It's only quarter of five here. Bye, Heyes. Good luck. Call and tell me about it later. But not tomorrow – I'll be over to Denver getting sworn in."

"Good-bye, Jed. Watch your back!"

"I will. Just you watch yours."

"Oh, I got in the newspaper again. Turned in two guys who wanted to kidnap me to open a safe for them. I hope the press attention doesn't cause you trouble."

"Why would my partner being heroic cause trouble? Good luck tomorrow, Heyes!"

"Bye, Kid. Sorry. Bye, Jed."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Heyes arrived at the courthouse with his lawyer the next morning. The ex-outlaw came to the hearing looking as honest and scholarly as he could manage. He was neatly dressed in a charcoal grey suit, a white shirt, a dark tie, and his wire-rimmed glasses. As he and the immaculately garbed Brown stepped into the lobby, Heyes took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweating brow. It was a hot day, but his fears made it worse.

Charlie Homer, who was acting as character witness, was already in the lobby. The tall, grey-haired Homer stood up and shook his former advisee's hand. "Good morning, Heyes. You're gonna do fine. Don't worry."

"Good morning, Charlie," said Heyes. "Charlie, this is my lawyer, Thurmont Brown."

Charlie smiled and shook Brown's hand. "Good morning, Monty. I know Mr. Brown already, Heyes. I'm the one who recommended he take on your case. Hope it all goes well today."

"I think it will, Professor," said Brown.

Heyes looked fondly at his mentor who was stepping up to support him yet one more time. "Thank you, Charlie. It seems like I keep having hoops to jump through and I need you for every one of them. I wish they'd just let me do something without more hearings and trials and stuff."

Homer chuckled. "Oh, Heyes, I'm afraid it doesn't stop. Or it doesn't let up until you get tenure. I can't help you much with it in the meantime. You just have to do all the academic interviews and tenure interviews on your own. But with a name that doesn't make you cringe so badly, maybe you'll have a better chance. I don't know."

"I don't know, either," said Heyes, "but I hope to find out."

Before Heyes could say more, a grey-haired and grey-bearded man in an elegant suit walked in the front door. Heyes looked up at the man who was walking toward a door marked "Judges' Chambers." The two men looked into each other's eyes in surprise. Heyes open his mouth to speak, but the man, obviously the judge, held up his hand. "Don't say a word, any of you. I don't want us to trigger a mistrial. I'll explain in the hearing room." Heyes nodded as his lawyer looked at him in question.

"What is the judge talking about?" Brown asked his client.

Heyes smiled. Then a formally dressed man put his head into the lobby. He said, "Gentlemen, will you please assemble in the hearing room? It's just down the hall this way."

The hearing was held around a big wooden conference table in a finely appointed room with dark wood paneling. The portrait of a man in judge's robes hung on the wall behind the judge's chair at the head of the table, lending more authority to the judge who sat down in the heavy leather chair, although the judge himself wore no robes. Soon everyone was seated – the judge, a man acting as stenographer, a court clerk, Heyes, his lawyer, and his character witness.

The judge banged his gavel and the stenographer looked up alertly from his pad. The judge began, "I would like to call this hearing to order, for the purpose of considering whether Mr. Hannibal Heyes may take the middle name of Joshua. I would like to state for the record that Mr. Heyes and I have often seen one another in the past."

The judge continued, "We were – as I still am – frequent patrons of the Astor Library in this city. We never spoke to one another and never knew one another's names until today, although we did wave to each other now and then in the reading room. I do not consider that very modest acquaintance enough basis for me to recuse myself from this trial. Do you agree, Mr. Brown, or would you like for me to step aside in favor of another judge?"

"I see no reason for you to recuse yourself, your honor," said Brown. "Mr. Heyes, you don't think that his honor would have any grounds to be prejudiced for or against you and your cause, do you?"

"No, of course not. We never did more than smile or wave at each other," Heyes said, looking back and forth between his lawyer and the judge. "That was back when I used the Astor Library a lot, before I started at Columbia and had the use of their library. So it's been a few years since I saw his honor."

The judge nodded. "Very well, let's begin. Clerk, will you please swear in Mr. Heyes and Professor Homer?"

The clerk swore in Homer and Heyes on a Bible. For Heyes, it brought back, all too vividly, how he had been sworn in when he was being tried for second degree murder and later for armed robbery. A drop of sweat ran tickling down the back of Heyes' neck. Everyone fixed their eyes on the judge.

"Mr. Heyes," said the judge, "there are some routine questions we must always ask in hearings of this kind. So don't let them bother you. What is your full name?"

"My name is Hannibal Heyes." Heyes kept his voice as neutral as the judge's.

"You have no middle name?" asked the judge. Heyes sweated. This was too much like his criminal trials.

"No, sir, not that I know of. I never heard my parents mention any middle name, that I recall. All of our family records were destroyed in the raid that killed my family and burned our house, barn, church, and school. That was in 1862." Heyes tried to keep his voice as matter-of-fact as he could through these terrible words. He surprised himself by how well he succeeded. The judge looked more affected than did Heyes.

"Are you being pursued for nonpayment of debts?" The judge's voice was crisp and professional, despite the sympathy in his eyes.

Heyes shook his head. The question wasn't comforting, but he knew it was routine and he answered calmly. "No, sir. I am in debt. I am very badly in debt. My injuries, my legal status, and various obligations have kept me from being able to be employed outside of some work for my partner in Colorado, some informal work at the Leutze Clinic to offset my treatment there, and my teaching assistantship at Columbia University. So I am in debt for most of the cost of my medical treatment and living expenses in New York. But those are all private debts and no one has yet asked me to pay them back. My creditors know I am not employed and they know why. They are aware that I will start paying them when I have honest employment."

The judge smiled encouragingly. "It is our hope that you will soon be employed on the right side of the law, Mr. Heyes."

"Thank you, your honor. That is my earnest hope," said Heyes.

"Are you being pursued on any criminal charges?" the steady, official questions continued.

Heyes smiled for just a second. "Not any longer, your honor. Not since my partner and myself were granted a pardon by the governor of Wyoming and amnesty by the governors of Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, and Texas."

"Would it be dangerous to you or to anyone else for your old and new names to be announced publicly?"

"I hope not, sir. It will be embarrassing and maybe awkward for my wife and myself and some friends. But I hope it won't be dangerous since I have amnesty. I do have enemies. Some of them are very dangerous men. But after I've been in the papers so much, they must all know where I am, if they care any longer. So announcing my new and my old names in the same papers where the articles about me have been seen couldn't make things much worse."

The judge continued with his routine questions. "I understand, Mr. Heyes. What is the name you are asking to take legally?"

"I would like to take Joshua as my middle name. That would make my name Hannibal Joshua Heyes. I would use H. Joshua Heyes as my professional name. But, of course, I would disclose my full name and criminal history to anyone who might hire me, or make any legal agreement with me. And I would also disclose the full information to anyone who might need to know my full name and record for any other legitimate legal or moral reason."

The judge nodded. "That is precisely what the law must insist that you promise. Your council has advised you well. And the court has read the legal requirements of your pardon and your amnesty papers. For what reason do you propose to make this change to your name?" asked the judge, as the stenographer continued to take rapid notes.

Heyes cleared his throat. "I never use my first name. It was what my late parents called me, though I never liked it. Not even when I was a boy. I was teased about it at school and around the farm in Kansas where I grew up. And they made fun of me about at the orphanage where my cousin and I lived after that. And . . . there is a painful episode that I associate with that name. I don't like to be reminded of it. Everyone who knows me well just calls me Heyes. But now that I have amnesty and have completed my degrees, I am applying for posts as a professor. It is hardly dignified for a professor to be referred to by his last name alone. Even now, I would rather not use my first name. Since I have no middle name, I thought it would be a good idea, professionally, for me to take one. My partner has given up his old nickname. He is using the first name he was born with, Jedediah. Nobody much ever heard of Jedediah Curry – only of Kid Curry. I'm afraid pretty much everybody has heard of Hannibal Heyes, and has heard bad things. I want to leave that law-breaking past behind. Since I am beginning my new, honest life, it seems symbolic for me to begin it with a name – H. Joshua Heyes."

The judge nodded as the stenographer took all this down. "Could you tell us why you prefer the name Joshua in particular?"

"Yes, your honor. Joshua was my father's name. His full name was Joshua Benjamin Heyes. He was an honest, upright man who can bear no blame for my crimes."

The judge looked hard at Heyes. "But you have also used Joshua as an alias, have you not?"

Heyes cleared his throat again. "Yes, sir. I used the alias Joshua Smith for more than seven years. Smith was given to me by Sheriff Lom Trevors when Mr. Curry and I started to seek amnesty. I took Joshua as my first name in my father's honor. I began the courtship of my wife using that name, so she likes it, also."

The judge enquired, "Your amnesty documents insist that you never use an alias of any kind. How do you propose to square the fact that you would take as a middle name the same name you used as the first name of your alias?"

Now Heyes' lawyer spoke up for his client. "Your honor, if Mr. Heyes takes Joshua as his legal middle name, it would not be an alias. It would be his legal name. He never used Joshua as a middle name as a part of any alias – only as a first name. And he took Joshua as part of his alias only after he had stopped breaking the law. He has promised faithfully, as you heard just now in this room, never to use the name Joshua to deceive anyone about his real identity and his criminal past. He would reveal his first name and his past whenever there was legal or moral need to do so and always to avoid deception. But he has, I assert, a right to his dignity and to be comfortable with his own name. He is, as he says, beginning a new life. His partner had only to drop a nick name to start again. Mr. Heyes' full name is, however, known from coast to coast. A partially new name can help his authority and dignity as he starts an honest academic career."

"Do you have anything to add to your council's words, Mr. Heyes?"

"Yes, your honor. I propose to teach young men and women mathematics at the college level. I would be helping them to acquire a set of skills that is vital to many fields of endeavor. I want to do that work with a name that is not notorious. I would like to have the chance to be Professor H. Joshua Heyes. Under that name I would strive to be a man who would benefit his country."

The judge listened attentively. "I see. The court has read the letters from the governors of Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado, and the letter from Senator Warren of Wyoming, in support of Mr. Heyes' taking the name Hannibal Joshua Heyes. The court has also read the letter from Governor Hogg of Texas opposing his taking that name. The court will consider the points made on both sides, in light of what we learn in the course of this hearing."

Heyes nodded. The judge looked thoughtfully at him and asked, "Mr. Heyes, is it not true that your father, Joshua Heyes, was violently murdered when you were a boy. It is not also true that you found and buried his body and the bodies of your mother and your brother and sister? Were these not traumatic circumstances?"

Heyes nodded. "Yes, sir. That is true."

The judge looked keenly at Heyes. "Considering these facts, would it not cause you pain to be called by your father's name? Would you not be reminded of these events each time anyone called you H. Joshua Heyes or lefts off the first initial to call you Joshua Heyes, as would be bound to do from time to time?"

Heyes spoke thoughtfully, as if he was figuring things out as he spoke. "No, sir, I don't think it ever would hurt me. I don't need to be reminded of that loss. I never forget it. It is part of me. My name and my memories are all I have of my pa. In fact, it's a comfort to me to hear that name. It's almost like he's with me. And besides, nobody ever called him Joshua Heyes in my hearing. My ma called him 'Mr. Joshua' in her old fashioned southern way. His friends and close family called him J. B., or Josh Ben. So the name Joshua makes me think of him. But if people called me Joshua Heyes, it wouldn't sound just like what they called my father. Do you understand what I mean, your honor?" Everyone in the room was studying Heyes as he spoke; much of this was new to everyone there except the man himself and his lawyer.

The judge paused, studying the subject of the hearing. "I don't, precisely, but I'm satisfied that you do. I believe that you would be content with this new name. Professor Homer, do you believe that your friend and former student, now named Hannibal Heyes, would make honest use of the name H. Joshua Heyes?"

Charles Homer nodded. "Yes, your honor, I firmly do believe that. Mr. Heyes has always behaved honestly and honorably in every possible way since I have known him. He revealed his true name to me years ago. He has been the most excellent and hard-working student I have ever taught. He is certainly one of the best men I have ever known. I absolutely believe him to have changed his character from the days when he routinely broke the law."

"Thank you, Professor Homer. The court will bear that in mind," said the judge.

The judge looked into Heyes' eyes. "Now, Mr. Heyes, we have heard the reasons you want to take a middle name when you have not previously had one. We have read your amnesty documents. We know about your desires and about your legal requirement to try to obtain an academic position. We have heard a certain amount about your starting a new life. What the court truly needs to understand in order to decide whether or not to favor your petition is why you want to avoid using your given first name, Hannibal. You have said that it was what your late parents called you, which I can understand stirs difficult memories. And, of course, you have become notorious around the country and even overseas under the name of Hannibal Heyes. So it is clear why this name might hinder you in your professor career. But you also said that there was a painful episode. The court needs to know about that episode in order to understand why you are so reluctant to use your first name. Would you please tell us about that, Mr. Heyes?"

Heyes, although he had been expecting this, looked at his lawyer in distress. Then he looked back at the judge. "I, um, your honor, I would prefer not to tell it. I have never told it to anyone. Not even my partner or my lawyer or my wife."

Brown looked at his client apprehensively. "Mr. Heyes, we have already spoken about this. But would you like to confer in private?"

Charlie Homer looked on in concern. Heyes swallowed. "No. There's truly nothing that needs to be kept secret. But . . . um . . . these events took place some fourteen years ago. I was a criminal then, pretty close to unrepentant. My conduct then was very different than it is now. I would not want my connections and my conduct at that time to be held against me more than they need to be."

The judge looked at Heyes compassionately. "I understand that I am asking something difficult of you, Mr. Heyes. I do understand that you are a changed man since you have confined your activities to the right side of the law. But I think the court needs a fuller understanding of Hannibal Heyes the outlaw, and what happened to turn him against his own name. If the court is going to grant you a new name, it needs to fully understand the problem with the current one."

"Your honor," said Heyes anxiously, "there are people other than myself whose reputations could be adversely affected by my words."

The judge's face was very serious, with his furry eyebrows knit together. "This is a civil proceeding, Mr. Heyes. No criminal proceedings will come out of your testimony, unless you reveal the commission of felonies. Would you be revealing the commission of felonies?"

"Yes." Heyes dropped the syllable like a rock into a well.

The judge looked keenly at Heyes. "Did you, yourself, commit any of these felonies?"

"No, your honor. Not everything I did makes me proud today. In fact, none of it does. But I did not, myself, commit any felonies beyond those already known by the law and covered by my amnesty."

The judge nodded, as the clerk continued to take notes. "I see. Are the persons whose crimes you would reveal already wanted for felonies?"

Heyes went on steadily. "Your honor, I am not certain of the identity of the men who committed the crimes." Another bead of sweat rolled down his brow. "If the only one of them I might be able to identify was who I think he might have been, he is certainly long dead and his crimes, other than this one, are well known."

The judge nodded. "In that case, Mr. Heyes, I do not imagine you have anything to worry about in the way of causing legal trouble for anyone. Do you have other concerns?"

"Yes, I do, your honor. As I said, all this happened fourteen years ago. In this testimony, I hope you would not hold me to the particulars of all the exact words people said in conversations or such like small details. I am known for my fine memory, but I have been shot in the head twice in the years since. I could inadvertently have some details wrong."

"The court understands that, Mr. Heyes. If we have any questions about whether the words you tell us are merely general or are exact quotes, we will ask you. Are you now ready to tell us about his painful episode in detail?"

"I am not happy to tell it, but I will do as you ask. I will state that the events were," Heyes paused, "hard. Very hard, indeed. It concerns some members of my family. Those who are still living, if any are, probably remain very angry about what happened. I wouldn't blame them."

"Mr. Heyes, before you begin, I apologize to you and to your family for making you reveal these events. I promise you, no part of this testimony will ever leave this room. I will hold all here to that promise unless you, Mr. Heyes, expressly release them. Will you hold to that clerk, stenographer, Mr. Brown, and Professor Homer?"

There was a soft chorus of "Yes, your honor."

The judge nodded. "Alright, Mr. Heyes? Will you give us every pertinent detail?"

Heyes gathered himself and said, "I will, your honor. Please pardon me, gentlemen, for the way I used to be." He gazed earnestly at the judge, trying to forget that others were also listening. "This happened back in the spring of 1877. It was only about a month after I'd taken over as head man of the Devil's Hole Gang, after Big Jim Santana got nabbed. There'd been a fair little scuffle to see who'd be head man and I hadn't won out by much. Being as I'm not a real big, strong man, or as fast with my gun as some, I had nothing but my wits to keep me on top – or alive. So you'll understand why I paid as much attention as I did to what the boys were saying. I had nobody to watch my back but me, myself."

The judge interrupted Heyes' story. "Wasn't your partner, Mr. Curry, with you?"

"No, sir. He was working at a ranch in Texas, trying to go straight. We'd parted – well, not on friendly terms. I was determined to keep on outlawin', 'cause I was doin' so well. Or, I mean, bringing in so much cash for the Devil's Hole bunch. But Jed Curry wanted an honest life. He'd been with a few gangs by then and had more than a little reputation with a gun. But he had his eye on a nice girl he wanted to marry, and she wouldn't have an outlaw. So he was working under an assumed name and hoping they could make a go of it." Charley felt a little amused, noticing how Heyes was falling, evidently unintentionally, into talking much as he must have done as an outlaw. He expected an "ain't" or two any minute. Yet Homer tensed as he anticipated what would surely be a violent and unpleasant story about his friend's former life.

The judge listened carefully. "How old were you and Mr. Curry at that time?"

"I had just turned twenty-four a couple of months before and Mr. Curry wasn't quite twenty-two."

The judge asked, "At that time, how long had you both been – outlawing, as you put it, Mr. Heyes?"

"Nine years, off and on, your honor."

The judge was appalled. "You became an outlaw at the age of fifteen? And your cousin at thirteen?!"

Heyes tried again to speak as formally as a hearing required, but he found it a struggle. "Yes, your honor. We had actually been stealing at times in order to survive starting when I was nine – after our parents were killed. We took up with outlaws when I was fifteen. We were taken in by an outlaw gang after we escaped from the Valparaiso Home for Waywards for the last of several times. It was a very bad place, your honor. It was where I learned to pick locks and we both learned to steal and things like that. Our parents had brought us up well. But they'd been gone a long time and we had a lot to get through, Jed and me . . . and I. We both did some straight work. Mr. Curry did more honest labor than I did. By the way, I apologize for slipping into some informal language. When all this happened I had very little schooling. I still tend to think of that time in those terms."

The judge smiled. "Don't worry about your language, Mr. Heyes. We know that you didn't have a master's degree then. The memory is a funny thing. Just tell your story as you will. So long as you tell the truth, I don't care much what words you use to tell it."

Heyes cleared his throat and continue his testimony. Charlie noticed his former student rubbing his temple as he spoke – right where he had been shot. "Thank you, your honor. Well, anyway, one day in the bunk house at the Hole – the Devil's Hole – our hideout in Wyoming - the boys and I were playing poker. They got to talking about the places they was born. They asked me where I'd been born. I grew up in Kansas, but I told them that I wasn't born there. I was born on a farm in Missouri. It was outside the town of Hannibal. That's what I was named for. One of the boys asked me if I'd ever been back to Missouri. I said no, I hadn't, and I wasn't going to. He said I ought to, since some of my family might still be there after all the kin in Kansas were killed. I said they might be there, I didn't know. But I wasn't going there while I was wanted dead or alive, to bring trouble on any family I might have left. And one of the boys – Kyle Murtry, it was started in to tease me, saying I was afraid of going back to Missouri because that was where Jesse James was. He said I was afraid of Jesse James. I said I was not. He said I was, too. Just like children, I guess. But when a man's trying to stay on top, he doesn't want to get called yellow."

"Especially when he's only twenty-four years old and doesn't have his fast draw partner to watch his back."

"Well, yes, your honor. So, the long and short of it is, once we pulled a big job and I had some ready cash, Kyle, and the Preacher and me . . . I . . . we headed out for Hannibal. We took a stage, and then a train, and finally a Mississippi River boat. I curse the day I ever let them talk me into it. Along the way, I finally admitted to myself and to my men that I was, too, afraid of Jesse James. I mean, any reasonable man would be. James had done a bunch of famous robberies by then and killed a lot of men. I hadn't ever killed anyone. People figured he was lying low then, who knew where, maybe out of Missouri altogether. So I figured maybe it was safe enough for me to go and look up whatever last remnants of my family might have survived the massacre in '62. That side of my family hadn't been in Kansas when it happened. So, I went. Or we went – the other two to keep an eye on me and prove to the other gang members that I really had done what I said I was going to do. Those two, out of all the gang, the Preacher and Kyle, were very loyal to me and didn't want me to get turned in or shot or something. And there were a couple of other pretty loyal men I left in charge at the Hole. I was getting pretty famous by then myself – or infamous. Not as famous as Jesse James, of course. That came later. But my name was becoming known. By then, I'd been wanted dead or alive for years. My first jobs as head of the Devil's Hole Gang got headlines across the country, or so I'm told. So we were cautious. We were using aliases."

The judge studied the man before him as he spoke. It seemed totally bizarre to him to watch this conservatively dressed, college-educated, good-looking, middle-aged man in glasses matter-of-factly discussing how he had been wanted dead or alive and had come to be more infamous than Jesse James. It didn't seem even remotely possible that this scholarly fellow really was the man who had opened all those safes, led that infamous gang, and been portrayed as a hero in countless articles and books.

Meanwhile, Heyes went on with his narrative, the pain evident in his eyes until looked away from everyone around him at the table. He was rubbing at his temple again. Heyes' voice grew lower, slower, and hoarser as he spoke, "To understand what happened later, I think you need to know, it was a tough trip. It was for me, anyhow. Those guys with me were clowning around, teasing me. But I ignored them as best I could. I couldn't make that trip without thinking about my family and what, if anything, I might find in Missouri. And about what I remembered. While we were riding the train and the river boat, I kept seeing the dead bodies of my parents, my brother, my sister, my cousin's family, smelling the fires, the blood, feeling the bullet slamming into my shoulder . . ."

Charley Homer knew he wasn't supposed to speak, but he couldn't contain himself. He leapt to his feet and put his hand on Heyes' shoulder. "Heyes! Stop it! Stop punishing yourself!"

The judge, belatedly, banged his gavel. "I'm sorry, Professor, but you are out of order. However, I concur. Mr. Heyes, please confine yourself to the facts. If I need more insight into your actions, I'll ask for it."

Heyes, breathing raggedly, nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Take your time, Mr. Heyes," said the judge softly. "Clerk, please get Mr. Heyes a glass of water."

Heyes nodded again. He waited for a few minutes without speaking, his breathing gradually returning to normal. He took a few sips of water before he went on. "We got off the riverboat in Hannibal. I had no memory of the place at all. I'd been about six months old, I think when my family left for Kansas. It was a nice town. I wasn't sure how to find my family without giving away who I was. As I say, my name was getting known. I had been in the papers only a week before about the job that gotten us the traveling cash. It turned out that finding the Heyes family wasn't a problem. Only a couple of blocks from the wharfs was a bar where my men went to drink. Right across the street was a hardware store – Heyes Hardware. So I had found them already. But I had no idea how they might receive me. Walking in the door of that hardware store was one of the hardest things I had ever done." Heyes took a sip of water before he went on.

"I went to the counter. The man looked up at me . . ." Heyes stopped. His friends and the professionals around the table all looked on in tense concern.

"It was my uncle John – my father's older brother. It was obvious – he looked so much like my father . . . I couldn't believe it. He was about 50. He was my father's only brother who lived past childhood. I couldn't speak for a moment – but he kind of choked out, 'Josh Ben,' almost like he took me for my Pa for a moment." Heyes paused again. "I guess I looked just about like my father had when his brother had last seen him – more than twenty years before. My uncle stared at me. He knew his brother was dead. We hadn't been in touch at all. I guess for years he had figured the whole family had died in the raid. So it must have been a shock to him when he started seeing my name in the papers and realized he still had a living nephew. My name being so rare, he could hardly mistake me. So he knew that I was living, even if not living right. I hadn't even known, till that moment, that my uncle was still living." Heyes paused and drank some more water.

Like everyone in the room, the judge was hanging on Heyes' every word. He said, "Please go on, Mr. Heyes. How did your uncle react to having his outlaw nephew turn up unexpectedly at his place of business?"

"I went up to the counter. He came out so he could get real close, so folks in the store wouldn't hear what we said. He said, 'Hannibal,'" Heyes stopped again and blinked hard. "He called me by my right name like nobody except Big Jim had in years. He asked 'Son, what name are you using?' I don't even remember what alias I told him, but he took it up and called me by it when anyone outside the family could hear. I had been scared that he would give me away or even turn me in. But no – he asked me to dinner. He wouldn't have the other guys from the Hole come. I don't blame him. They weren't real presentable at table, even when they weren't drunk."

"I went and found my men at the saloon. They were drinking with some girls. I just hoped they hadn't been bragging about being part of the Devil's Hole Gang. But I think they must have been, from what happened later. I told them I'd found my family already and would be having dinner with them and spending time with them. I ordered my boys to stay away from the family. The boys didn't like it, but they understood. The Preacher said to take my time. I guess he could see how shook up I was, seeing family again for the first time since I was a boy."

The judge studied the subject of the hearing. "I'll give you the same advice, Mr. Heyes. Just take your time. I don't know where this is going, but I know it's hard for you."

Heyes nodded and looked around the table. Then he continued his testimony. "I rode home that night with my uncle on his wagon. He was not happy with me for turning outlaw. He spoke sternly to me about it and I listened respectfully. I told him about what had happened after my family was killed and after the Kid and I got away from the home. We almost starved to death and that was why we were stealing. Uncle John said, "Hannibal, I can understand how you got lead astray. Please, just don't lead my family astray, too. I won't turn you in, I promise you that. I won't do that unless you leave me no choice. And I know that arguing you straight wouldn't be easy. But please think about what you're doing. You're still young. You can still change. My own boy, he's older than you are by a couple of years. But as famous as you are now, and with what everyone says is that silver tongue of yours, you could sway him. He's an honest man, my Ben. He's going to follow me in the business. He's got a real nice young lady he's going to marry. Please, don't mess up their lives, Hannibal.' I promised faithfully that I wouldn't. Like Hell . . . sorry, your honor. I mean, I broke that promise, though I absolutely had not meant to do so."

Heyes took another swallow of water and closed his eyes for a moment before he continued. "So Uncle John took me home and introduced me to his new, young wife. My aunt had died and he had recently remarried. And then I met his son, Ben. It was a shock to meet someone who could have been my brother. Ben didn't look just like me, but there was a resemblance. He was a bit like me in the face, and was about my height and build. Anyone could see we were related. Ben and I, we got on immediately. We talked and talked."

"You did?" asked the judge in surprise. "What on earth did you have in common with a young man working in a hardware store?"

Heyes laughed wryly. "Not a lot. But maybe we got on better on account of that. We had so many differences in experience. We had a lot to learn from each other."

"What did you talk about?" asked the judge.

"All sorts of stuff, your honor. I told him some about the poor little farm I grew up on. The raid when my family was slaughtered. How I got shot as just a boy and Jed nursed me and fed me. How we got put in the home and kept running away. How Jed and I got taken in by outlaws and started to be trained up on the wrong side of the law. How we got wanted and got chased by the law. The robberies. Getting shot. He asked a ton of questions. It was all so strange to him. I was totally honest with him – for maybe the first time I ever had been.

Poor Ben. He kept saying, 'Gosh, Hannibal! Really?' He was shocked, I guess, but interested. He pitied me, I suppose, but he never let me know it. I was fascinated to hear how honest people lived. I asked a bunch of questions that must have seemed peculiar to him. He thought everyone lived like he and his family did. I'd been so poor and so desperate for so long. It was like something out of a fairy story to me just to hear how regular folks lived their lives. Not to be hungry. Not to fear being beaten. Not to be ignorant. Not to be running away. Not to be guilty. To have a nice, comfortable house you could count on. To have enough to eat and a decent school and everything. I listened to every word like it was a play. I thought maybe if I knew how decent folks lived, I might get to be one of them or at least live like that. I never thought before that I wanted to live like regular folks, but I started to change my mind." The tension of that time showed clearly in Heyes' face. He stopped and wiped his brow.

The judge was watching Heyes avidly. "How much time did you and your cousin spend together?" he asked.

Heyes sighed. "Every minute we could for days. I don't recollect exactly how many. Ben got his father to give him time off from the store. Ben and I went fishing, riding, hung around the docks. We just talked and talked and talked. I'll never forget how good Ben and his family were to me. They put me up in a guest room and made me so comfortable. They let me go into the family store and even do some work for them, working on the books and stuff. I always was good at math. I could do long figuring in my head almost from the cradle and they showed me how book keeping worked. I found it very easy. My uncle and aunt and Ben started in to talk that I could give up outlawing and stay there in Hannibal. I could start a new life and be part of the family again, under a new name. I could work at the store and live an honest life. They could save me."

Heyes gave a bark of bitter laughter. "Fools! All of us. Damn fools!"

"Why?" asked the judge. "Why were you and your well-intentioned relatives foolish?"

Heyes took a deep breath and let it out. "How could it ever have worked? Somehow, I got on blinders and didn't see all the problems. Not until they were pointed out to me."

"How were the problems pointed out?" asked the judge.

Heyes went on in a strained voice. "I'll tell you. There came a night when Ben had a date with his gal, so we parted for a while. He went out with her to some kind of theatrical or dance or something. Laura was her name. Poor girl. How she must hate me, if she's still living." Heyes bowed his head in shame.

Heyes took another sip of water and continued his tale. "That night, I went back to the saloon where Kyle and the Preacher were drinking and told them about what was going on. I talked about how I was going to stay and they could go on back to Wyoming without me. They laughed in my face. Hannibal Heyes living in Hannibal with the Heyes family? Working in the Heyes family store? How obvious could it have been who I was? I was already wanted dead or alive and had a big reward on me. I think it was $1,000 then. How was I going to hide and not get either turned in or shot down? How was I ever going to keep my family safe, much less me? And for me to just work doing books in a hardware store after all the excitement I was used to? I'd be bored stiff, the boys said, and they were right. And to make that little bit money when I was used to thousands. I could see how right they were. I felt real bad for my family and my men and myself all at once. I couldn't stay with my family. I couldn't go straight. It was all impossible. We got to drinking, my boys and me. Um, your honor, I got a bit drunk. In fact, I got totally plastered. It all just hurt so bad." Heyes shook his head and swallowed hard. He rubbed his temple and winced.

Charlie Homer wiped his eyes, hoping Heyes didn't notice. He had seen Heyes in a lot of emotional pain, but never like this. Heyes was sweating as he spoke in room that no one else found hot.

Heyes said, "I . . . late that night I went out back - um – to – you know - to relieve myself. There was just a sliver of a moon. It gave hardly any light. I couldn't see to do myself back up, so I stepped out of the outhouse and was still buckling up in the back alley when I heard a voice I didn't know. He talked with a Missouri accent. He said, 'Heyes, what are you doing down here in Missouri?' I looked up at the man, my belt still in my hand. I couldn't draw my gun or my pants would have fallen down and I was too far gone to draw and shoot good anyhow. It was so dark. There wasn't any light but moonlight and a little tiny bit of lamplight from the saloon out front. Maybe my fears got the better of me, but the man talking to me looked familiar somehow. He was wearing a dark hat. He had a sandy sort of little beard and real high cheekbones. His eyes were some light color – probably blue. He was older than me and stood about the same height as me, maybe a touch taller. When I saw him and heard that voice, a shiver went down my spine. I didn't answer him, so he said again, 'Heyes, what are you doing all the way down here from Wyoming? You get out of here before I chase you out!'

I tried to sound tough, but I was spooked bad. He knew it. I said, 'I ain't here on business, Mr. I'm here to see my family and nothing else. So you got nothing to fear from me.' He laughed at me. He pulled his gun kind of slow and held it aimed at me, but he didn't cock it. He just aimed at me, cool as cool, there in the dark. I didn't dare to move for fear he'd pull the trigger.

He said, 'Get out of town, Hannibal Heyes. Keep on going out of the whole state. This is mine. Get out or I'll make you wish you had.'

I said, 'I'll leave when I'm good and ready and not until then. But I ain't on business, I tell you. Just family.'

He laughed again. He said. 'In our line of work, it's always business. I don't need you flashing your name around and drawing the law. If you weren't drunk, I'd plug you one now. But there would be no sport in it.' Then he put his gun up. He turned and went off somewhere in the shadows in that dark alley. I heard him mount up and ride away. I could hear he had other men with him – two or three of them rode off with him."

The courtroom was filled with taut silence as everyone listened. Heyes stared blankly into space, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room.

"Who was it, Mr. Heyes?" asked the judge in a tense voice.

Heyes continued to avoid the eyes of the judge. "Well, it was dark and it was most certainly nobody I'd ever met in my life. So I can't swear to who it was. But he looked familiar from some place. Could have been the newspapers. I got back to my friends and told them what happened. They figured the same as I did about who it was. They were afraid if they assumed it wasn't and it really was, they might regret it. They said we'd better saddle up and skedaddle unless I was on the shoot for the man. Which I wasn't. I was just scared stiff, to be honest with you."

There was a nervous silence. "Well," asked the judge at last. "Who did you think it was?"

Heyes wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "I kinda' hate to say. I mean, I could so easily be wrong. It's just what I thought at the time and when things happened later . . ."

The judge said, patiently, "I'm not holding you to the fact of his true identity. But for us to understand what happened later it would help to know what you thought at the time – he must have had to do with it – this bearded man. Who did you suppose it was?"

Heyes went on reluctantly in a voice just above a whisper. He looked into the judge's eyes. "He did have everything to do with what happened later. I was mighty soused but I suspect . . . I think . . . well . . . it could have been Jesse James."

Gasps sounded around the courtroom. Then there was silence for a long moment while Heyes looked between the judge, his lawyer, and his friend, trying to gauge the reaction to his very hesitant statement. Charlie Homer had never seen his former student so uncertain, not even when he had been hardly able to speak.

The judge said, "I can certainly see, Mr. Heyes, why you would not want to let that story out of this room. The pairing of your name with that of Jesse James would, in itself, be sensational, no matter what happened next. I appreciate your reluctance to make such an assertion of identity if you are not totally certain. I will remind all here of their oaths not to reveal this testimony. Mr. Heyes, would you like to take a break before you go on?"

Heyes nodded, wiping his brow yet again. "I would appreciate that, your honor."