"Jed's gone. I should have been there! Damn it! I should have been there! I should be there now!" Heyes was furious with himself. Beth reached out to comfort him, but he pulled away.
"If only . . ." The ex-outlaw turned and began pacing their bedroom with his hands in his pockets and his head down. Beth watched in concern. Hard as it was, she knew better than to disturb Heyes when he was thinking and planning.
The distracted man stopped his rapid stripes and extended his right hand as if he was about to announce a brilliant plan. They he pulled his hand back, ran it through his hair, and continued pacing. Finally, he stopped and faced Beth where she sat on the bed. "Can you go ask Mrs. Westmoreland if I can use the telephone?"
Beth was more than a little skeptical, "Heyes, you do know it's about one o'clock in the morning, right?"
He was talking faster than Beth had ever heard him. "Yeah, I know. That means it's only about eleven out in Colorado. I'm betting Billy Healy will be on duty at the sheriff's office, and he's the guy I want to talk with. Not Wilde. I want that young deputy."
Beth exclaimed, "Poor Billy! You mean he was riding around all day after that awful Hogan and then searching for Jed and you think Wilde would leave him on duty in the office at eleven at night?"
Heyes nodded. "Yeah – it's not like they have a lot of trained men. I've been in a few jails and I figure he'll be on. If Wilde keeps up the schedule he used before, he ought to relieve Billy at about midnight to take the shift until 6:00 in the morning. That's when most jailbreaks happen. Remember they've got a murderer in the cage. Wilde will trust himself most and Billy second. So I want to get through before Wilde takes over."
Beth stifled a yawn. She had had a long, tense wait for her husband's return from the conference in Philadelphia. "Alright, Heyes, but our landlady won't like being woken up. Give me a few minutes to soften her up before you come barging in."
Heyes nodded impatiently. He was still talking incredibly quickly by his standard since being shot. "Of course – that's why I want you to ask her. She knows you a lot better than me. She might not like being woken up by Hannibal Heyes."
Beth spoke soothingly. "Alright, Joshua. Whatever it takes to help Jed. What are you planning?"
Heyes was already going out the apartment door. "No time to explain."
Beth hurried to get ahead of her husband. She crept carefully but quickly down the stairs and knocked softly at the door to the landlady's apartment. She waited and knocked again to give Mrs. Westmoreland the chance to get out of bed. "What is it?" answered the landlady in concern through the door. "Who's there?"
"It's Elizabeth Heyes. I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's an emergency in Colorado and my husband needs to use your telephone. May he please do that?" Before Beth had finished speaking, her landlady had opened the door and looked out in concern. She looked over Beth's shoulder at Heyes. She appeared not to completely trust her infamous tenant.
But the tall, grey-haired landlady wrapped in a quilted robe summoned her courage. "Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Heyes. If it's an emergency, then don't worry. I'll just be grateful if you can keep it short, Mr. Heyes."
Heyes answered as politely as he could when he was so upset, "I'll do my best, Mrs. Westmoreland, and I appreciate your help."
"Of course, Mr. Heyes. Right this way. I'll go back to my bedroom so you can have some privacy for your call."
Beth stood near her husband's side as he took up the receiver in the ornate parlor and began the long verbal labor of connecting from operator to operator across the country. "Hello, Central? Can you patch me through to the Sheriff's Office in Louisville, Colorado? Thank you. Who's calling? Hannibal Heyes. No, I'm not kidding. I'm Hannibal Joshua Heyes. Put me through as fast as you can – this is an emergency. Please. Yes, it's a Hannibal Heyes plan. I didn't think anybody knew about those but us. Stupid novels. Sorry, but . . . Thank you, Ma'am." Heyes was speaking at lightning speed, trying to simultaneously charm the operator into cooperation and get through as fast as he could.
It took several connections and a lot of patience to get from New York to Colorado by way of the capital of every state along the way – Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, and finally Colorado. Heyes wiped his brow as the phone was ringing in the Louisville Sheriff's Office. Beth could hear only one side of the conversation, but that told her a lot. "Billy Healy, is that you? Yeah, this is Heyes. Don't worry – I understand you were following orders. Yeah. I know it's late. It's later here. Listen to me, Billy, and I might be able to help you get Jed back safely. Tell me exactly where you last saw Jed . . . Wolf Mountain? The scree on the north side? Good! Don't worry about why – but it's good. Now listen to me real carefully – I want you to repeat all this back to me when I'm done. You've got to get this precisely right or things could get difficult . . . Tomorrow morning, before the sun's really up, you get your horse saddled and ride up there . . . Don't you use dogs to sniff out the Kid - you were going to? Well don't! No matter what – no dogs. If anything might get Jed killed, it would be baying hounds, like the law sometimes uses to trail criminals."
Beth listened as Heyes dictated the precise details of this latest Hannibal Heyes plan. Mrs. Heyes was as worried as her husband was, but she had to suppress a little smile as she heard how rapidly he was speaking. Jed Curry had spoken often of the old Heyes the fast talker; now Beth was finally hearing her husband sound nearly how he had used to sound before he got shot in the head.
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The next morning Heyes was up earlier than usual, yawning and stretching as he washed, shaved, dressed, and distractedly began to read the morning paper. He turned the pages impatiently, seeming to find nothing that interested him. He barely touched the hot breakfast that Beth fixed him. His mind was entirely turned toward Colorado, although he knew well that he could expect no news from Billy Healy for some time because of the time difference.
Heyes stared out the window of the apartment, then turned and starting pacing. Beth came in from the kitchen. She took off her apron and looked at the old banjo clock on the wall. "Hannibal Heyes, it's just a few minutes before eight o'clock," she declared.
"So what? I don't have a job yet," groused Heyes.
"Nor will you if you don't hurry up! Did you forget your interview for the bookkeeping position with that shirt waist factory?"
"Oh my God, I did forget!" Heyes grabbed his hat and his briefcase and rushed out the door. He made it to the factory's office door a few blocks away just as he heard church chimes striking eight.
Heyes straightened his tie and knocked on the door. A thin, tired-looking, bearded man in a dusty top hat and black suit answered the door. He had a thick European Jewish accent such as Heyes had heard many times on nearby Hester Street. "Is it Mr. Heyes? Mr. Joshua Heyes? To speak about bookkeeping for Goldberg, Stein, and Sons?"
"Yes, sir," said Heyes. He looked around at the company's office. It was small, dark, and covered with the dust inevitable when so much fabric was around. But the two desks and the file cabinets and shelves looked admirably neat. "I'm Joshua Heyes."
"I'm Mr. Stein. Glad to meet you, Mr. Heyes. Is it that you have a new degree in mathematics, from Columbia University?"
"Yes, sir." Heyes reached into his briefcase. "Here are my transcripts."
Stein peered at the papers through reading glasses, gesturing for Heyes to sit down. "Ach! Every grade an A! It is as your, what do you call him, your advice person, your Dr. Homer, he told me."
Heyes nodded. "Yes. My advisor. And you will see that bookkeeping is one of the classes."
"Ja. An A plus! And you have kept books for businesses before?"
"Yes, sir. For Christy's Place Bar and Hotel in Louisville, Colorado for many years. Here is a letter of recommendation from Mrs. Curry – the former Miss Christy."
Stein studied the letter and nodded. "That is the only place where you have kept the books?"
Heyes spoke reluctantly. "No, sir. I worked for another bar for a few days, but they were sold after that. I don't have a recommendation from them – it was a long time ago and I don't know where their owner is now. And . . ."
Stein prodded, "And?"
"I, um, I kept books for my own business before that."
"Your own business?
"I, I'm required to give you my full, legal name. Joshua is my middle name. My first name is Hannibal." Heyes waited for the usual strong reaction to his name, but he didn't get it.
Stein only nodded. "Yes, very good, so you are called for an ancient African general, but what was the business that you ran?"
"Acquisitions, you might say." Heyes was caught off guard. It had been a very long time since he had given his right name to anyone who didn't recognize it, other than his lawyer who had been faking his lack of reaction.
"What kind of things did you acquire, then?" asked Mr. Stein without the least sign of unease.
Heyes felt lucky to be interviewing with someone who hadn't heard of him. It was painful to have to tell the man about his notorious past. "Illegal acquisitions. Pardon me, sir, but I must confess that I was an armed robber. I headed a gang in Wyoming."
"I beg your pardon, a robber? And you are not in prison?" Stein drew back, aghast, but he was evidently clueless about the history of the particular robber before him. "And you call this a business? How does a robber come to be applying for a job? Why should I not call the police?"
The former armed robber was unsure if his explanation would carry any weight. "Because I have been granted amnesty and a pardon. Here are the papers. They are signed by four governors and the President of the United States. I haven't robbed anyone for many years. I, my partner and I, have caught robbers and turned them in to the law."
Stein was amazed. "I – what? My goodness gracious! I see here as you say. Very impressive, Mr. Robber."
Heyes answered, "Thank you. But I don't suppose you will hire me, although I am now an honest man."
Stein peered at Heyes with calculation. "Well, if you are an honest man now, perhaps I will hire you, Mr. Heyes. If you will, perhaps, accept a dollar less per week than the sign says? Yes? Then I will consider it very much. And if these governors and the President himself, Mr. Harrison, say I can trust you, then who am I to disagree? If you do your work well, honestly and on time, then I don't care about your past. I was Polish and now I am American – I am just made a citizen last week. If you were dishonest and now are honest, I can understand that."
"Congratulations, Mr. Stein. Perhaps you can pay me fifty cents per week less than the sign says, rather than a dollar less?" Seeing a nod and a slight smile from Mr. Stein, Heyes began to relax.
"Ah, you drive a hard bargain, for a man with such a history. But alright. So, you can start on Sunday and work Friday afternoons, also?"
"If I can start Sunday after lunch, that would be better," Heyes hoped it wouldn't be a problem.
"Oh, the robber goes to church on Sundays?" Mr. Stein poked gentle fun at his new employee.
Heyes remained very serious, unsure if he dared to joke back at all. "Yes, my wife and I do."
Stein nodded. "Alright, Sunday afternoon, if you work all day on Fridays."
Heyes said, "And, as we discussed before, I might need to leave to take another position. I would give you notice. I am applying to teach college, as I told you before."
Mr. Stein nodded. "Yes, if you can give a week's notice. So, no wonder it is that you have a hard time becoming a professor, I suppose." He winked at Heyes.
Heyes still remained sober even as Mr. Stein was joking. "Yes, it is no wonder. I'll work hard for you, Mr. Stein. I've saved my employers at Christy's Place a lot of money over the years."
"If you can do as well for me, Mr. Heyes, then maybe I'll not call you a robber, but call you my bookkeeper." Stein reached for the hand of his new bookkeeper.
Heyes accepted the handshake gladly. "Thank you, Mr. Stein."
"Would you like to look at our books as the man before you kept them?"
"Certainly, I would like a look," said Heyes, although he was starting to sound distracted as his thoughts strayed back to Colorado.
Stein handed his new bookkeeper a large ledger bound in brown leather. Heyes dusted it off and opened the book. He studied the front, where the columns began, glanced at the middle pages, and looked for where the entries left off with the payment of the employees the previous Friday. He looked carefully for a while, but then began to fidget and looked up at the large, round clock on the wall.
"You are pressed for time, Mr. Heyes?" asked his new employer.
"Pardon me, Mr. Stein, but yes. I am worried about time. Could I wait to see more of your books until Sunday afternoon? There is an emergency that demands my attention."
"Very well. I will see you at 1:00 sharp on Sunday. Bring a fresh pen with you. My former bookkeeper seems to have made off with all of mine. It seems I have employed robbers before." Heyes was not terribly amused by his new employer's little joke.
"You will pay for the pen?" Heyes asked, thinking of what he knew about these careful businessmen from poor backgrounds like his own.
Stein smiled. "Ah, you are a man for pennies, Mr. Heyes, as they come together to make dollars. A man after my own heart. Yes, I will pay for the pens and the ink."
Heyes grinned at last. "And I will not steal pens, or anything else."
"I hope not, sir, or, according to the words on those papers you showed me, you would spend the rest of your days in prison." There was a sparkle in Stein's eyes as he spoke. He was not really threatening Heyes, but he wanted it clear that he was not ignoring his dishonest past, either.
"Even so, Mr. Stein." Heyes bowed his head and put on his hat, "Good-bye until Sunday."
As Heyes headed toward the door he heard Stein speaking to someone in the back of the office. "Yes, son, that man just leaving is our new bookkeeper. His name is Heyes. He is named after an ancient African general."
The younger man was horrified. "What general? Oh my gracious, not Hannibal? Hannibal Heyes? Are you out of your mind, Papa? To look after our money, you've just hired the most notorious safe cracker in all of America!"
Heyes hurried out the door before Stein could change his mind about hiring Hannibal Heyes.
Heyes rushed down the street and soon was in the door of his apartment building. He dashed up the stairs, taking two at a time. "Beth? Is there news?" Of course there was no answer – Beth Heyes had gone to work at the Leutze Clinic. Heyes ran down the stairs and knocked discretely at his landlady's door. The door soon opened. Mrs. Westmoreland was now wearing, as usual, a black dress symbolizing her status as a widow.
"Mr. Heyes, would you like to use my telephone again?" she asked, with an edge of weariness to her voice and an emphasis on the last word.
"Yes, if I may. I'm concerned about my partner, unless someone has called with news."
Mrs. Westmoreland was starting to become accustomed to sharing her telephone with a former outlaw. "Of course. No, there has been no call yet. Right this way. I'll leave you to talk in private. I hope your partner is well."
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That morning in Colorado, Billy Healy had had a hard time stopping himself from yawning. Heyes had told him how important it was that he do everything just right and he had no trouble believing it. The sun hadn't come over the mountains yet, but Billy had saddled his favorite trail horse and was rode it up into the mountains in the dark cool before the dawn. He kept reviewing Heyes' directions in his mind, over and over. He went cautiously, careful not to have his mount stumble in the pre-dawn shadows. It was, as he had told Heyes, how Billy Healy he had caught Hogan – forcing him onto a rough part of the mountains and getting his horse to lose his footing. Billy was still proud of how neatly he had turned Jed Curry's accident into a forced situation to his advantage. But it had taken all the previous day to set up the plan and execute it, carefully herding the murderer back to the part of the mountains that Healy knew best. And all that time, Jed Curry had been waiting for Billy to come back. And he hadn't made it back in time.
The day promised to be fine and clear, although there was still a little morning mist around the mountains. Finally, Billy's grey horse was sure-footedly climbing the rocky slope of Wolf Mountain. It seems liked forever before they made it to the spot near the ridge where Heyes had told Billy to carry out his plan. "Mr. C!" yelled the deputy into the dark mountains at the top of his lungs just as the sun was starting to peek over the trees along the mountain ridge. "Mr. C! Are you there? This is Billy Healy. Are you there, Mr. C? I want to help Jed Curry!" There was along, pause when Billy Healy heard nothing but birds singing. So he yelled again, "Mr. C? Do you hear me? I'm Billy Healy, Jed Curry's friend! I want to help him. I don't want to make any trouble! I just want to help Jed Curry!"
There was another long pause. Billy wondered desperately whether Heyes was right about the mysterious man he would speak of only as "Mr. C." There was a rustling in the bushes and Billy turned, with his hand on the grips of his gun. A young elk peered out of the shadows at him, then ran leaping off up the slope.
Billy was about to yell again when he heard a voice echoing loudly from behind some rocks. Billy kept his eyes averted from the area, as Heyes had instructed him to do. "Who are you?"
"I'm Billy Healy, Jed Curry's deputy," Billy shouted.
"You're from the law?"
"Yes, sir, but I'm not here to make trouble. I just want to help Mr. Curry."
There was a long pause. Billy felt a drip of sweat running down between his shoulders, although it was still cool out.
"Who was it told you I was here? Miss Cat? Heyes?" The hidden man shouting in a county accent sounded extremely wary.
Healy was wary, too. "Mr. Heyes told me, sir."
"And you say you're Jed Curry's deputy?"
"Yes, sir." Billy worried with every word he spoke. Heyes had not told him whether the man was questioning was an outlaw, but he assumed this was the case. Why else would he be so wary of the law and of giving his full name? Also, there had been no mention of whether or not the mysterious Mr. C actually had Jed Curry in his keeping.
There was another long pause.
"You gonna bring the law up here to bother me?" The hidden man still sounded very tense and unsure.
"No, sir. I promise I won't bring anyone up this far. It's just me. I left my badge back at the office."
"Did Heyes tell you who I am?" The speaker was skeptical.
Billy did his best to be patient as a bead of sweat ran from under his hat. "No, sir. He said just to call you Mr. C. He didn't say anything about you except you're a good man and might be up around here. He said that if you didn't rescue Mr. Curry yourself, you'd know who did."
Billy could hear a smile in the man's voice. "That's nice of him. Did you come alone?"
Healy didn't mind repeating himself, if it would help to resolve this tense situation. "Up here, yes. But Dr. Grauer is down in the first clearing by the trail with a wagon and some medical supplies for fixing up Mr. Curry."
The hidden man seemed to be starting to relax, but he remained careful. "That's fine. Did Heyes tell you where I live?"
"No, sir. He just said I might find you here." Billy, for his part, remained respectful.
Mr. C was getting inquisitive. "That's fine. But if Heyes was talking to you, why didn't he come himself?"
"He's in New York. He called me on the telephone."
"The what?" Mr. C was startled.
"It's like a telegraph except you actually hear the person on the other end speaking."
The hidden man laughed. "What won't they think of next? I knew Heyes weren't near here, and didn't think Miss Cat was, either. So did Heyes tell you where I live?"
"No sir. Only that I might find you if I stood here and yelled for a while."
"You've answered a lot of questions, boy. You ain't asked none. You don't have to worry – just ask."
"Do you have Mr. Curry with you?"
"Yeah, I do. I picked him up last night, when it got real clear you weren't gonna do it. Wish I could'a done it sooner, but I was off out of here on a hunting trip." Yelled Mr. C.
Billy Healy sighed with relief. "How is Mr. Curry, sir?"
"He's got a leg broke bad." Mr. C sounded concerned.
Billy nodded. "I know that. But is he well otherwise?"
"No. He's got a nasty cold and some fever, but not too bad. I gave him some good tea and broth and that helped some."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. I mean, about his cold. Can I ask how you got him off the mountainside?"
"I rigged up a travois and dragged him off." Billy nodded. He knew about the Indian-invented wooden frame dragged behind a horse. It worked like a cart without wheels. It was not a comfortable means of conveyance, especially over rough ground, but it was better than nothing.
"Oh – so that's what made the tracks I saw."
"Yeah. There wasn't time to wipe 'em out and do for Jed, both. I could rig the travois again to get him down to the doc."
"That sounds like a good idea." Healy acknowledged. He had been worrying about that point.
"Well, maybe. But it's bound to be bumpy going down the mountain. Bumpy ain't what a man with a broke leg needs." Mr. C clearly had Jed Curry's interests at heart, it seemed to his deputy.
"Did you set the leg?" asked Billy.
"I did my best. Put it between two boards. But it ain't as good as a honest-to-goodness doctor could do and that's a fact."
Healy said, "The doctor's all ready to help Mr. Curry, if we can get him down there. The doc said he'd like to make sure the leg is properly set before it starts to heal up – otherwise, it could heal crooked and have to be broken again."
"Well, it could, and that worries me. Well, maybe he's up for some bumps if the doc can help him out at the end of it. I'll go get him all rigged to go, if you'll promise you won't come looking for where I live."
"I promise, Mr. C."
"Thank you. I'll meet you with Jed Curry down where the doc is. He'll be glad to see you, Billy. He's been worrying over what you might think."
"We're both beholden to you, Mr. C."
"No, you ain't. Jed Curry's a friend and I do my best for friends."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're right welcome."
There was a pause. Billy sat his horse in silence.
"Ah, heck, I trust you. Do you want to come and help me get Jed rigged for his bumpy ride? You promise you won't tell nobody where I live?"
"I promise, sir. I just want my friend to be safe and well."
"That's what I want too, young Billy. Well, come on with you. You can hear where I am. Come cautious, with your gun in its holster."
"Yes, sir. I'm coming, Mr. C."
Billy rode very slowly over to where the shouts had been coming from. He met a tall, bearded man in buckskins riding a mule as he came out from behind a group of aspens. "Glad to meet you, Billy!" Mr. C said, holding out a hand.
"I'm glad to meet you, sir." Billy reached out and took the grizzled mountain man's hand.
The pair rode a rough trail from mountain side to mountain side on their way to the get Jed Curry. The mountain man said, after a long silence, "Oh, go ahead and call me Cavanaugh. Just don't tell that man Wilde my name, alright? I have a hard time trusting a sheriff, less'n he's Jed Curry."
Billy stayed very humble and quiet. "I won't, sir."
"I expect he knows I'm here. But I don't want to give him my name. You understand?"
"I think I do, sir. But it's none of my business." Cavanaugh chuckled in his hoarse voice at the young man's careful remark.
"Billy, I don't do nothing agin the law, not no more," said Cavanaugh cautiously. He felt better to share the truth with the young deputy.
After a treacherous ride over two mountains, they arrived at Cavanaugh's cabin carefully hidden under some rocks on a mountainside. Cavanaugh led Healy inside to where Jed Curry lay on a bed of skins in the neat tiny cabin. "Billy! I sure am glad to see you!" said Jed Curry in a hoarse voice. Then he coughed. Even in the dim cabin, Healy could see the lines of pain on his boss's face and the gleam of sweat from his fever.
Billy smiled, hiding his concern. "I'm glad to see you alive, boss. And in Mr. Cavanaugh's hands, safe. The doctor's brought a wagon out to get you, but we've got to get you down to him."
"Yeah. There's no safe road for a wagon within a mile or two of here, so far as I know."
"That'll be a long way in the travois, Jed," said Cavanaugh. "But I can't figure out any other way."
Curry paused and coughed before he said, "I can't either. I wish Heyes was here. He might think of something. I've been wishing for my partner a lot today and yesterday. But Billy Healy, you turn out to be just about as good."
Billy admitted, "Actually, boss, it was Mr. Heyes who told me about Mr. Cavanaugh and how he might have saved you. He said Mr. C knew everything that went on out here – he could hardly help knowing you were here. Mr. Heyes told me everything to do and I just did what he said."
Cavanaugh laughed. "Sounds like your partner just came through for you again, Jed."
The Kid wasn't laughing, but he was glad. "He did – and you, and Billy, did too. It's my fault I need saving. I feel awful foolish to have ridden into that bunch of rocks too fast. I guess chasing guys is kind of different from being chased. Hogan led me right into that place on purpose and I forgot it was there. How's the horse - Gus? He was awful lame last I saw him."
Billy looked sad. "I'm sorry, boss – he was in real bad shape by the time I got back to him last night. We had to shoot him."
Jed sneezed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "That's a damn shame. He was a good horse, especially in the mountains. Well, this ride won't be fun, but I guess I earned it. We better get it over with."
Cavanaugh and Billy went out to where the travois was and hitched it to Cavanaugh's sure-footed pack mule. Then they carried Jed Curry out to it between them on a blanket, with his leg clamped between two rough-hewn boards tied together with thongs. The famous gunman was white and sweating freely by the time they got him tied in place. He didn't utter a sound as the leather and pole contraption dragged and bumped over the rocks and fallen trees downhill behind the mule, though no one could mistake the terrible pain Curry was in. Cavanaugh led the mule and the deputy's horse slowly while Billy walked beside his boss and tried to help the travois over the roughest spots so he could spare his boss as much discomfort as possible. Curry didn't say a word, but by the time they reached the clearing where Doctor Grauer waited with the wagon, there were silent tears in the ex-outlaw's blue eyes. He was panting softly with agony. Cavanaugh wiped Jed's face gently and gave him a drink from his canteen.
"Well, sheriff, I'm glad to see you alive. I'm sorry this ride won't be too smooth, but it's the best we can do!" said the doctor in his cheery bed-side voice. Then the three of them carefully moved Jed from the travois to the nest of blankets the doctor had fixed for him in the wagon. When the anxious move was done, Curry smiled and shook Cavanaugh's hand.
"Thank you, Mr. C," gasped Curry, making sure not to give away his ex-outlaw friend's full name to the medical man. "And thank you, Doc. I'm glad to see you. Mr. C saved my life – I hope you can save my leg."
"Don't you worry. There should be no danger there, Curry. You'll be fine once we get that leg set and splinted and get you home. And don't worry, Mr. C.," said the doctor. "So far as I'm concerned, you were never here."
"Thank you, doc," said the bearded former outlaw. "I'm obliged to you for that, but mostly for looking after my friend here. You make sure he's all well soon, you hear? He's got a pretty wife and a baby on the way and they need a well man."
"I hear you, Mr. C," said the doctor with a wry smile. "I'll do my best. From what I can see, there should be no danger to the leg, so long as we get it set right and keep it clean." In the meantime, Billy Healy was working to get his boss as comfortably situated on blankets and pillows as he could in the back of the wagon. He looked up and waved good-bye to Cavanaugh, who was melting into the wood with his two mules.
"Thank you, all," said Curry in a hoarse voice. "I'm ready for my ride home." He coughed again.
"Not so fast, Jed Curry," said the doctor. "I've got to set that leg properly and get it splinted securely. I don't want it getting messed up on the way back to town. I'll put a cast on it when we get to Christy's Place. But we can do splits here. We'll need to straighten the break a bit before we do that."
"Oh great," murmured Curry. "This is going to be fun, I just know."
"I brought you some whiskey, Jed," said the doctor, handing him a sizeable flask. "That ought to help. Have a good stiff one or two before Billy and I get started on your leg."
"Me?" asked Billy fearfully. "I don't know nothing about leg-setting!"
"Then it's time you learned. A lawman needs to know these things," said the doctor crisply. "You ready, Jed?"
"No, but go ahead," said Jed with an encouraging look at this deputy. Curry took another pull on the flask.
An hour later, Jed Curry was stretched in the same bed in the back of Christy's Place where Cat had nursed Heyes after he had been shot in the head. "Oh, Billy, I'm sorry to put you in this fix," moaned the sheriff, whose words were a little slurred by quite a few stiff shots of whiskey. "Wilde's wife is gonna to be on the war path with her man doing sheriff duty again. You'll have to do it as much alone as you can and get some volunteers when he can. You know who you can trust. I surely do wish we had another deputy, but we don't yet and that's just how it is."
"Don't worry, boss," said Healy. "I'll manage fine." In fact, Billy looked very worried. He had a murderer to deal with and who knew what else would come up with only one able-bodied man with a badge to cope with it in this rough town.
"Thank you!" said Curry and yawned. "Do me a couple of favors, will you? Wire my wife in Kansas to ask her to come on out here. You don't need to be nursing me and being sheriff, too. And call my partner on the telephone and tell him I'm alright. Thank him for saving my darn fool hide one more time."
"I will, boss," said Billy Healy. "You've got a good partner, looking after you from all that way away."
Curry smiled and settled back against his pillows. "I've got a good deputy right here. I do appreciate it, Billy. I'm glad to know you'll take orders even when you don't like them." The sheriff yawned again, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep. Billy Healy envied his boss, despite his injury. He doubted he was going to get much sleep any time soon.
