Charlie Homer and Thurmont Brown followed Heyes into the lobby. The three men stood there, the other two staring at Heyes, still stunned by what he had told them so reluctantly.
"My God, Heyes. Was it really Jesse James?" exclaimed Homer.
Heyes winced and held his finger to his lips. "Damn it, Charlie, you know damn well you can't talk about a legal proceeding outside the court," hissed the worried ex-outlaw, looking around anxiously. "Anybody could walk in here."
Brown nodded. "Mr. Heyes is right. Please don't speak about the hearing outside the hearing room."
"Alright. Sorry, Heyes, sorry Monty," said Homer. The three men stood for a moment in silence. Heyes looked blankly into the distance, seeing nothing around him. Then he turned abruptly and walked rapidly down the hall. While he was gone, Brown and Homer looked at each other in silent distress. Nothing could keep the past from having happened. Nothing could keep Heyes from having to relive it for the judge.
As Charlie and Heyes' lawyer sat in leather chairs in the lobby, they heard raised voices from the judge's chambers. They couldn't hear what was said – only the tense tone of the conversation. Something wasn't pleasing the judge.
When Heyes returned, he looked at Charlie shame-faced. He just shook his head, silently. Finally, he laughed at himself. "Ain't I just the stupidest creature that ever was, Charlie? To think I could have gone back to Missouri at any time and been taken in. I just never did go there until then. I couldn't ever tell you why except that I started stealing so young. I was ashamed. I thought nobody would ever want me and Jed but outlaws. The home for waywards had us convinced of that, anyhow. I guess they really just wanted us to stay and work. It was a workhouse and nothing more."
Brown looked away, not wanting to intrude on this personal moment. He wasn't going to berate the men for discussing this. Heyes had been through more than enough. Homer's heart went out to his friend. He touched his former student's shoulder. "Heyes, don't worry about the past. Just think about the future. No matter what you have had to get through, you'll get to that shining future you've earned."
Heyes was about to speak, but before he could say anything, the court clerk called, "Please return to the hearing room, gentlemen."
Heyes, Homer, and Brown filed silently in and took their seats. Heyes wiped his sweating palms on his pants. The judge looked at Heyes with compassion, though Heyes thought he also saw something else in his eyes that hadn't been there before the break. Something new was bothering the judge. His furry grey brows were knit tighter than they had been before. But Heyes tried not to worry about it. He had enough cause for concern in his own testimony. The judge sighed and said, "Alright, Mr. Heyes. What happened after you met whoever it was in that dark alley."
Heyes sighed. He tried to stay more detached now than he had before, to live now and not in the past. "Nothing much. I went back into the hotel where the Preacher and Kyle were staying and got a room. Then I fell asleep."
"And in the morning?" asked the judge.
"I slept late." Heyes wasn't happy to elaborate.
The judge gave Heyes a sympathetic smile. "You must have been hung over."
Heyes rubbed his temple and winced as if he was hung over as he spoke. "Yes. And I was so ashamed of myself that I hated to face anyone – especially Ben. Finally, I got out of bed because somebody was banging on my door. It was my men bringing me coffee and breakfast. And news.
Kyle and the Preacher were sure that James had his men watching me. They had seen some rough types hanging around the hotel and the saloon. And they had spotted some guys they took for lawmen, too. Truthfully, it was hard to tell them apart. Half the lawmen were ex-outlaws, I think, in those days. But either way, my men were afraid I'd be killed if I tried to leave. And they were worried for themselves, too. So was I. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't up to figuring out one of my usual complicated plans. I felt sick. I couldn't think real clearly." Heyes stopped and held his head in his hands. It was clear that he didn't feel very good even now.
The judge looked puzzled. "Didn't you tell your family what had happened, Mr. Heyes?"
"No. I didn't want to endanger them by going anywhere near them. So they didn't know what had happened to me until Ben came and found me. He'd gotten worried when I didn't get home. He knew where my men were, so he didn't have any trouble finding me. I'm afraid I told him most of what had happened the night before. I should have kept it from him. I wish to goodness I had.
Ben went home and got a gun. When he got back to the hotel with a pistol on his hip, I told him to go back home and not think of using that gun. He didn't know what he was doing with a weapon – not like I did. He argued with me, but I told him I didn't want him to get hurt. I wasn't worth his worrying over. I told him I'd never go straight; I'd live and die an outlaw. I wasn't suited for anything else any longer. I couldn't stay with the family without putting them in danger. Ben was hurt bad by that and he left, but I knew he'd be back. Ben and I had started to feel like brothers, even after just a few days knowing each other."
"So what did you do next, Mr. Heyes?" asked the judge. He and the others in the room were riveted by the tale from Heyes' storied past.
Heyes sat silent for a moment, as if considering what to say. "I felt so bad for messing up my life and my partner's life, too. And now I was causing trouble for the rest of my family. When Ben had gone, I pulled my gun out of the holster. I looked at it and wondered if the easiest and neatest thing to do might be to just put it in my mouth and pull the trigger. I got near it." Heyes was speaking less and less loudly as the day went on. He sounded miserable.
Heyes paused, running one hand through his short hair while the others in the room looked at him in shock. Only Charlie had previously encountered Heyes' dreadful dark side. Heyes looked up at the pained faces around him and tried to back out of what he had just said. "I know, I know. Now I have a wife and friends and two degrees. None of it would have happened if I'd been bold, or stupid, or thoughtless, or selfish, enough to do it. I know and I'm sorry I thought of it. But at the time, I didn't know if I could ever turn things around."
Homer wished he could say, "It's alright now, Heyes. Just go on with it. Stop delaying. What happened next?" Instead, a tense silence hung in the room.
Heyes sighed again and finally went on. "So we hung around the hotel all day. We didn't have any friends in that area – nobody we could call in to help us. We saw some guys we thought might be lawmen. I guessed they were after James, or whoever it was. I hoped they weren't onto me, too, but we couldn't be sure. Even if they weren't yet, the law could get onto me easy. I was pretty obvious that my men hadn't kept my real name a secret. As long as I was around, I felt like I was too likely to draw the law, or maybe James and his men to come after me. I was putting my men and my family in danger.
I couldn't just do nothing. Finally, just after sunset, I got up my nerve. I put on my hat and I checked the load in my gun. Then I went out to that back alley all alone. Kyle wanted to come – I wouldn't let him. When I got back there, I called out, as loud as I dared. 'James, you here?' Nobody answered. I yelled again, 'James, come out like a man!' Still, silence. I felt like a damn fool. There I was, all alone, yelling at nobody. I walked out front to the street. I decided I'd go down to the river to catch a riverboat and start back to Wyoming. I didn't even tell my men where I was going.
Suddenly my blood ran cold. It was early spring and it was cool out as the sun went down, but it wasn't that. I knew James was there, somewhere. I started to cross the street to get to the wharf. I didn't care that I'd left all my luggage behind. I just wanted to get out of there. I'd send a message back, I thought, and get my men to go back to Wyoming after I was on my way. Without me around to attract the law, they and my family wouldn't be in so much danger any longer. Or that was what I hoped."
Heyes breathed raggedly and took a sip of water. "When I'd gotten about half way across that street, I saw a glint of light that I couldn't account for sticking out from the corner of a window in the warehouse across the street. It was getting dark fast, but I studied it and I recognized something I had seen too often. It was the end of the barrel of a rifle pointed in my direction. I heard the rifle cock. I drew and shot toward the barrel – not close enough to kill anybody – just to warn them.
But when I fired my pistol, it wasn't just one gun that answered me. There was a noise like the end of the world. Guns were firing from everywhere. From what I can figure out, the law was hidden behind nearly every door and window on the warehouse side. And the other side, where I had come from, was I guess where James and his men were holed up. I had innocently set them off shooting at each other. I saw a door on the saloon side of the street slam – it might have been James or one of his men trying to get someplace. But once that firefight started, everybody got under cover. They'd have been crazy not to. I heard a marshal yell, 'Give it up, we've got you surrounded.' I didn't hear him give any name to the man they had staked out, though it was hard to hear anything while all that lead was flying.
But meanwhile, I was stuck in the middle of that fight with no shelter. I hit the ground and started to crawl out of there as fast as I could go. Nobody seemed to see me – the two bunches were just shooting at each other.
But a bullet caught me anyhow. I must have come from the James side, judging from the angle. The bullet hit a big artery. I went down in a pool of my own blood. I couldn't move an inch. I was fainting and my leg wouldn't work. I figured that was it. I didn't have a chance.
Ben came running out of his father's store, which was just next door to where the law was holed up. I yelled at him, 'Go back, Ben! Forget me! I'm done for!'" Heyes' voice was strangled and hoarse. "But he came on. 'Hang on, Hannibal!' he hollered. 'I'll get you out of there.' God, he was brave, running down the street with bullets flying all around him. My own men were hiding someplace, I guess. Somebody was giving him some covering fire, or he would never have gotten so far. Ben finally got to me and started dragging me back toward his father's store. I didn't think he'd ever make it, even with cover from my friends.
I looked up and one of the marshals was aiming out a side window at me. He yelled 'Did I hear somebody call you Hannibal?" All the while Ben was dragging me toward the store with the name Heyes on it, big as life, right over our heads. Then the marshal gave a yell and dropped his gun – a bullet had hit it right by his hand. Somebody had done some real fancy shooting in my defense. And Ben was still pulling me. He kept saying, 'Hold on Hannibal. Stay with me.'"
Heyes paused, the pain in his eyes giving away the story before he said the words. "Just as he almost had me to the door, a rifle shell took him right in the heart. It must have been terribly close range. The bullet might have been meant for me. His blood blinded me for a minute, and I was passing out anyhow. I could just hear my uncle's voice, yelling at me from the store. 'He died for you, Hannibal. My only son. Dead. For a God damned outlaw worth absolutely nothing.'"
Heyes couldn't say any more for a moment. He put his hands over his eyes. He breathed harshly, trying desperately not to cry in court. No one spoke for a long time.
"Mr. Heyes?" said the judge at last. Heyes blew out his breath and took his hand away from his eyes. His eyes were dry. "What happened next?"
"Somebody else must have hauled me in to safety. I don't remember. I was out cold. When I woke up, I was lying on a cot on a steam boat headed up river. I was all bandaged up and hardly bleeding anymore. Somebody had put a tourniquet on me, I guess. I was real weak. Kyle and the Preacher were with me. I asked them about Ben. "He's sure enough dead, Heyes,' said the Preacher. 'Bless him – he was brave, for all he was just a hardware store clerk.''"
Heyes cleared his throat. "My partner was there, somehow, and the other boys left the two of us alone. I said I had to go back to the funeral. But Jed said, 'Heyes, you can't do that. The law would be laying for you. And, the family . . .' His voice trailed off. He wouldn't say it, but I knew. So I said it. 'They never want to see me again. Not ever. I don't have a family anymore.'"
"But Jed said, 'You got me, Heyes. My gal found out about my record and she left me, but I went looking for you. I got to that town near Devil's Hole and one of your boys told me where you was going. I'd like to ride with you and the Devil's Hole boys, Heyes, if you'll have me.'"
Heyes smiled sadly at the memory. "I never was so glad to hear anything in my life. I got all excited and said, 'Kid, what gang would ever turn you down? You're the best there is and you know it. It was you who shot that marshal in the gun-hand wasn't it?' He nodded to me with a sparkle in his eye. He was proud of that pretty shooting. I said. 'We've got a pretty decent bunch, already. With you and me and the boys together, we can do about anything we like.'"
'"That's right, Heyes,' the Kid said. He was starting to get excited, too. 'We can out steal the James-Younger gang if we work at it.'"
"'You got that right," I said. 'We'll show them! We'll out steal and out con those guys and anybody else. We'll get our names in more newspapers and magazines and books than they ever did! But we won't leave a trail of bodies all over like they do. We'll do things right.' And that's what we tried to do. We were starting to plan our first job while we were still on that riverboat. We planned to get good and far away before we did anything, though. I was in pretty bad shape. And my men told me that the James gang, or whoever it was, had gotten away from the law. In fact, my boys had gotten me away under cover of the upset when the other gang rode out."
"So, Mr. Heyes, that was that?" asked judge in a voice filled with sorrow.
Heyes shook his head and laughed harshly. "You know damn well what happened after that, your honor. It was all in the newspapers and magazines and books, just like we thought it would be. We drank, and stole, and conned, and gambled, and whored, and drank some more. For six years, that's what the Kid and I did. We brought in more money than we knew what to do with. We stole several times what the James-Younger gang had. And I told myself I wasn't suited for anything else until I believed it. Until I forgot I'd ever wanted to live a peaceful, legal life. We lived the outlaw life and had a hell of a good time at it. Until – well – until it wasn't any fun any longer. Until people started getting hurt. Then we went straight. And I outright refuse to tell you that story." Heyes' voice dropped.
The judge nodded. "You did finally leave that life behind. That's what matters. You've turned it all around. You and your partner are both credits to your country – now. You've made a miraculous change in your life." Heyes' spirits rose. He thought he had that new middle name won.
"Yes, with the help of a bullet in the head and a good woman. So, your honor, now you know why I hate my first name. Do I get my middle name?" Even in triumph, Heyes spoke softly.
Everyone in the room was smiling. Heyes had surely told a story that made it crystal clear why he would never want to hear the name Hannibal again. With the story having happened in that town and with his cousin calling him Hannibal over and over just before he died, the impact of the name was too obvious. I
The judge took a long, deep breath and ran a nervous hand through his grey beard. He wasn't smiling now. Charlie and Heyes and his lawyer stared at the judge in apprehension. Could he possibly deny Heyes his middle name, having heard this story?
The judge said, "I would grant it willingly. Your wish for another name is completely understandable and justifiable. No man would want to bear the name of Hannibal after he had been through what you have described happening in that town and with your cousin calling you by that name."
But the judge went on, his voice growing harder. "However, the court must have proof that you will not use a new name to hide your criminal record. Mr. Heyes, you were just speaking of the crimes you committed for six years with the Devil's Hole Gang. And you spoke with some pride, I'm afraid. For the record, and to prove your forthrightness and honesty, would you please enumerate the crimes you committed in those years? I don't mean every instance – just the charges themselves, starting with armed robbery."
"Your honor?" Heyes was baffled. His lawyer looked equally at sea. Heyes said, "Your honor, I'm not a lawyer. How I can know what all the charges would be, if I haven't been formally charged?"
The judge's face was stony. "I think you know the law full well, Mr. Heyes. Give us the charges that you know of. All of them that you know of. I know the list is long. Don't stop until I tell you to."
"Your honor, may I meet with my client, please?" asked Brown in desperation.
The judge nodded. "There's a meeting room just across the hall. You may speak privately there. But don't take too long. We need to get this over with."
The two men stood up and walked out of the hearing room and across the hall with Charlie Homer looking after them in acute concern. They sat down in two of the chairs around a polished conference table. "Mr. Heyes, do you know what's going on? I can guess, but you must know."
Heyes nodded. "I think the judge is under pressure. Not many have the power to pressure a judge if he's clean. But New York politics is so dirty. Somebody is making him force me into a corner. It doesn't matter who. I assume he's within his rights to ask. But can I refuse to speak, Brown? Can I plead the fifth?"
"Yes. But if you do, it would prove that you are not being fully open about your past. The judge would be justified not to grant you the middle name. So it's up to you. Do you want that name, or do you not want to say what they want you to say. Do you know what they want you to confess to?"
"Yeah. It's not hard to guess. If you look out that door to the hall outside the hearing room, now that the judge has had time to call them while we're gone, I'm betting you'll see federal marshals."
Brown nodded. He was sure Heyes was right. "So. You've got a pardon and amnesty on state charges, but we both know that you have no such thing on federal charges. They want you to confess to something federal. Or the judge will deny you the name. You could get federal amnesty, I suppose, like the state amnesties. But it seems a terribly long shot."
Heyes nodded. "According to the conditions as we understand them, Brown, only one man can grant me and Mr. Curry federal amnesty. I don't need to tell you who that is. He's a busy man. He knows we want it. He knows the arguments. Or his pardon attorney does. It's just been understood, until now, that it would come through eventually. It was considered unwise for us to directly appeal to him. He'd come through in time. But he's not gotten around to it. If there's anyone on earth who doesn't need to worry about pleasing Hannibal Heyes and Jedediah Curry and their friends, he's the one. He can leave me rotting in jail as long as he likes. And he can have my partner arrested any time he likes. Everyone knows what federal charge we're guilty of. They'd only have to have read the headlines. So I guess it's stupid of me to keep up with this hearing. I can just walk away and forget the name. And my academic career. Or any career." Heyes' voice grew duller and softer. He rubbed his head again.
Brown could follow through the plot that was playing out. "That's right. The suspicions of federal charges would hang over you, and I'm guessing that no one in their right mind would hire you to dig ditches, much less teach college. I can guess what the federal charge is. Considering the combination of state charges, it's obvious."
Heyes nodded. "Yeah. Alright, let's go back. I only hope that the man with amnesty authority is a decent fellow and will actually let me out before too long. And that it won't cause troubles for my partner. Or too much for my poor, sweet wife."
Brown cautioned his client, "Mr. Heyes, just in case we might misunderstand what is going on, keep listing state charges for as long as you can before you get to the federal charges. Don't give them federal charges unless the judge forces you to do so."
Heyes nodded grimly. "Yes, sir. You don't have to tell me that twice."
The two men walked in the door and sat back down. Charlie Homer looked at Heyes with eyes full of worry. Heyes didn't look happy, but he was in control of himself.
"Mr. Heyes, those charges?" said the judge, still sounding distinctly unhappy.
Heyes recited the charges in a low, deliberate voice, pausing with each charge to give the judge the opportunity to stop him. "The charges that I believe would be against me would include: armed robbery, conspiracy to commit armed robbery, drunk and disorderly, theft, burglary, fraud, conspiracy to commit fraud, breaking and entering, destruction of property, resisting arrest, jailbreak, conspiracy to commit jailbreak, assault, attempted murder . . ." Heyes paused and met the judge's eyes.
The judge looked at Heyes. "That robbery in Denver, Mr. Heyes, what did you do with your haul?"
Heyes sighed. The judge left him no choice. "We took it back to Devil's Hole, in Wyoming. Everyone knows that."
The judge sounded sorry to extract the confession from Heyes. "So you are guilty of transporting stolen property across state lines . . ."
"There's no point in denying it. Yes, I am."
The judge's voice sounded mechanical. "Mr. Heyes, that is a federal charge for which you have not been granted amnesty." He raised his voice. "Marshals!" Two federal marshal with their distinctive badges that Heyes knew too well came through the door. Heyes extended his hands and one of the marshals handcuffed him.
"Hannibal Heyes," said the marshal, "I am placing you under arrest on the charge of transporting stolen property across state lines."
The judge looked full of regret. He banged his gavel. "This hearing is adjourned."
Heyes looked at the judge steadily. Then he turned to Professor Homer. "This is way past what I'm paying or can pay Mr. Brown for. Charlie, can you please let Cole know up in Montana? And let Beth know? And Charlie, please - I mean this – make absolutely sure that Beth does not go near the jail. She is not to visit me. She is not to bail me out. She is not to tell anyone except Cat and my partner where I am. I already warned Jed on the telephone that this exact charge might come up, so he needs to know that it really did. But neither you nor anybody can tell Jim, or Polly, or Dr. Leutze, or the Columbia boys, or anybody. You'll have to find a way to hide it as long as you can. We can't take any chances whatsoever of letting this hit the newspapers. If it does it could be very awkward for someone we are all depending upon. I think you know who I mean. Marshals, your honor, I hope you will honor my wishes and keep this out of the press. I hope that we can get out of this without embarrassing . . . anyone. Do you understand me?"
"Mr. Heyes is absolutely right," said his lawyer to Charlie and the marshals. "I support everything he's requesting."
The marshals weren't sure what Heyes meant, but the judge got the message loud and clear. "I understand you well, Mr. Heyes and Mr. Brown. Rest assured, we will keep this very, very quiet. Whether you get out from behind bars in short order – or not. We will do all in our power to protect the other party you are protecting. That is in the best interest of everyone."
"Thank you, sir," said Heyes quietly. His eyes looked dull and distant.
Charlie touched his former student's shoulder. "Heyes! We're getting you out right away. I'll send a telegram where it needs to go. And then I'll go myself. South, Heyes. I'm heading south."
"Thank you, Charlie," whispered Heyes. "Just don't push too hard. He's a politician. He knows the score." Heyes bowed his head and rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. Then he looked up at the marshals.
The older of the two marshals said, "Heyes, come with us. Don't make trouble for us and we won't make trouble for you."
"I understand, marshal. I don't do jailbreaks any longer. I didn't wear my boots with the pick locks in the heels, as you can see. I am not armed. Go ahead – pat me down. I'm going quietly."
The marshals patted down Heyes thoroughly, but not roughly. These marshals were under very different orders than the ones who had brutally hauled him away from Central Park two months before. Heyes appreciated the difference. The paddy wagon they boosted him into was closed with only a small barred window in the back. No one would see Hannibal Heyes taken to jail. No one but his lawyer, his friend Homer, and his partner, and their wives would know how long he stayed there. Or care how long he stayed there. Unless one man chose to care and to take the necessary action at last. Charlie Homer was about to be on his way to see that man. Charlie was just hoping that they would let him in the door.
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Meanwhile, far away in Denver, Sheriff Jedediah Curry was walking in the door of the elegant office of Governor John Ruott of Colorado. The mustachioed, balding little governor was just hanging up his telephone. He got to his feet, walked around his desk, and extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Sheriff Curry." The governor's accent was still noticeable from his youth in Kentucky.
"Thank you, sir," replied Curry. "I look forward to getting the ceremonies over with."
"Not today, I'm afraid, Sheriff," said the governor wearily. "I have some bad news for you."
Curry looked at the governor in surprise. His voice was full of worry. "What's that, sir? Is my wife safe?"
"Your wife is fine. But your partner Hannibal Heyes was just arrested by federal marshals."
"Arrested?!" Curry was appalled. "What did he do?"
"Nothing. They got him on an old federal charge of transporting stolen property across state lines – from here in Denver to Wyoming. I remember it well! I took office as mayor of Denver right after that. The federal amnesty hasn't come through yet, though Professor Charles Homer is on his way to hurry it along. Not that he's got an easy man to hurry."
Jed Curry stood still, unsure what to do. He wasn't sure there was anything to do. He knew as well as Heyes did what would be required for the pair to be granted federal amnesty. Curry was as guilty on this federal charge as was his partner and everyone knew it. The new sheriff looked around, expecting marshals to come out of some door with handcuffs and guns at the ready.
Ruott looked annoyed at the very least. "I'm sorry about that, Curry. I won't have you arrested, but it wouldn't look right for me to swear you in with that charge hanging over you. So if you can get a hotel room here in Denver and just cool your heels for a while, I'd be obliged. I hope I don't have to tell you to stay out of trouble. I'll stay in touch with New York and let you know what happens. Make sure my secretary knows where you're staying."
Curry sighed. "Yes, Governor. I'll do that. Thank you for letting me know the news, sir. I thought all this was over. But I guess we don't get off that easy."
"I suppose not, Mr. Curry. But I hope it won't be long. We need a sheriff like you. And sheriffs like you don't exactly grow on trees."
Note – As I hope you readers realize, all of the governors I mention in these stories are the real people who held those offices at the real times they held them. I don't know about John Ruott's real height or character, but he certainly had a mustache.
