The last part of this chapter is slightly altered from a chapter that originally appeared elsewhere for a challenge.
Ranger, Torrance, and Hannibal Heyes strode up the hill to the big main house of Bull Run Ranch. The sun had just vanished over the horizon, leaving a cool light playing over the house with its grand pillared front porch, expensive fruit trees, and the rolling hills of the ranch beyond. The summer air was soft and warm. But the idyllic setting did not help their visitor to feel at home.
Heyes remembered once on a con pretending to be too ignorant to know what the word reluctant meant. In fact he knew the word well enough; he felt thoroughly reluctant to enter that fine house where he knew he would not be welcomed anything like as warmly as he had been in the bunkhouse down the hill. After all, seven years before, Smith and Jones had been common hands here. The wealthy and powerful Williams family had seen such lowly hired help as unworthy to be invited into their home except on very special occasions. Just because the handsome and fun-loving Torrance had won his way in to the big house after years of trying didn't mean that the notorious Heyes could do the same in a single evening, especially with his criminal past fully in evidence. Under the eye of a board member of the University where he was about to apply, the ex-outlaw would have to be the personification of politeness and honor.
"I'll open up," said Torrance, the former head-hand who had had the gall to marry his boss's boss's daughter. He felt around in his pocket and pulled out the gleaming key. "Gosh, I remember the day I first got this key. Was I ever tickled!" Torrance winked at Heyes as he opened the big double front doors and shoved them wide with a theatrical gesture. He motioned his guest to join him in the impressive entry hall adorned with carved wood wainscoting, an elaborate glass chandelier, oil paintings, and flowered Victorian wallpaper. A staircase sporting fine turned banisters led to the upper floor. Everything there must have been ordered from the East at great expense. Torrance was visibly proud of himself for belonging in this grand place now.
One of the house servants, a stout woman in an apron, appeared instantly. "Mr. Torrance? I thought you was going out for the evening," she said in a Mexican accent.
"I was, Maria, but I changed my mind. Where's Mr. Williams?" asked the owner's son-in-law.
"He and Judge Garvey are playing billiards in the gaming room, sir," replied the maid.
"Thanks, Maria. We'll go back that way and say 'howdy,'" said Torrance. He ushered Heyes and Ranger past the parlor with its fine European paintings and the rows of impressive book shelves in the library into an elegantly appointed gaming room where the ranch owner was playing billiards with an elderly man Heyes didn't recognize. A dazzling crystal chandelier and matching wall sconces provided plenty of light for playing after sunset. The tweed-clad, burley ranch owner Blaze Williams sank an impressive long shot diagonally across the green felt, then put down his cue. He looked curiously at the vaguely familiar figure who had entered with his son-in-law and his foreman.
"Pa, when I was over to the bunkhouse, I met somebody I thought you'd want to see," said Torrance with a hint of uneasiness. He glanced at the ramrod, noting his skeptically raised eyebrows. The ex-head-hand drew himself up with dignity – he would show Ranger who knew his way around this house. Torrance and Ranger had once ridden as partners; they still enjoyed kidding each other.
"You remember Joshua Smith, who used to be a hand here?" asked Torrance, gesturing to his unexpected guest. Heyes held his ragged cowboy hat in his hand, wishing he had taken trouble to change into a suit before leaving the bunk house. Ranger stood nearby, lending quiet moral support.
"Why, yes, I remember Mr. Smith," said Mr. Williams warmly in his southern accent. "Welcome back to Bull Run, Smith. What brings you our way again?"
When Heyes paused, his host addressed his grey-haired friend, "Judge Garvey this man once saved our house from being blown apart by a certain hand who was overly generous with dynamite when he was trying to rid us of ground squirrels that were digging up the foundation." Williams gave a teasing glance to his son-in-law. The grey-haired owner of the biggest spread in the new state extended his hand to his guest.
Heyes didn't put out his hand to Mr. Williams. He spoke hesitantly, his face full of uncertainty. "I . . . um . . . I don't want to claim hospitality under false pretenses, Mr. Williams."
"Why, what do you mean, Smith?" asked Williams in concern.
"My name isn't Smith. That was an alias. My real name is Heyes. Hannibal Heyes." Heyes looked questioningly at Mr. Williams, whose blue eyes flared with anger.
The ranch owner paced toward Heyes, saying angrily, "How dare you come . . ."
Ranger could see that he needed to step up. He raised a hand to hold off his boss's, "Now, boss, you ought to know - it wasn't Heyes' idea to come and see you. Torrance was the one who thought sure you'd want to meet your former hand under his right name." Torrance darted his former partner an annoyed glance, but then he sighed. Whatever happened now really was largely his own fault, and he couldn't hide that. Ranger, as always, knew the right thing to do. In this case, that was to tell the truth.
Heyes nodded. "It does seem only honest to let you know my real name, Mr. Williams, since you used to pay my salary. And I'm about to interview for the position of professor of mathematics at the University of Wyoming, where I'm told you are on the board."
"I've heard about your academic aspirations, Heyes. I suppose that's admirable, but I have a hard time welcoming you to my home," said Mr. Williams stiffly, glancing with puzzlement at his new son-in-law and back to the criminal invader in his household. "A very hard time. You and your gang deprived me of a lot of money at a time when I really missed it. This spread had had a very hard year and we were just climbing out of debt. You robbed a train that bringing a vital payroll. In fact, you gave us a hard time more than once."
"I'm sorry to know we caused you such problems, sir . . ." began Heyes.
He was interrupted by a fuming Judge Garvey, "Heyes and his filthy gang harmed me and my family, too, making off with our savings from the bank. So I'd rather not be under the same roof with this man." The judge spoke to Blaze Williams – not to Heyes himself. Somehow, being talked around in that way was even more cutting to the former gang leader than the actual words.
"I understand, Judge Garvey," said Blaze Williams to his friend. Then he looked fiercely at the man his son-in-law had brought into the family home. "Mr. Heyes, I am asking you to leave my house. You can stay the night in the bunkhouse if you like, but I don't want to see you. Your presence offends both me and my guest. Torrance, I wish you'd given it more thought before you brought a criminal under this roof."
Heyes nodded, his eyes playing over a fine Oriental rug. He spoke solemnly, "Yes, sir. I understand." He looked up and met his reluctant host's eyes. "I'm very sorry to have harmed you both. The fact that I've gone straight doesn't repair the injuries you suffered at my hands. And it's my fault that I agreed to come; there's no need to blame Mr. Torrance." The ex-outlaw turned to go. The judge stood silently, looking angrily at his host and ignoring Heyes. The appalled Torrance and Ranger watched, unable to keep this visit from being a total train wreck in which all participants were hurt.
"I'm sorry, sir," said Torrance in a strangled voice. "I shouldn't have brought him here. Heyes really didn't think he should come."
"Blaze! Why are you and the judge telling this young man that his very presence offends you? That doesn't sound like my husband the gracious host!" exclaimed the petite Mrs. Williams, as she entered the room. On her heels was a pretty young blonde woman with a fetching up-turned nose. Heyes recognized her at once as Eddie Mae Williams. Eddie Mae, now Mrs. Torrance, was heavily pregnant. She was in that glowing state of health often noted in pregnant women, but right now her face was full of confusion and discomfort. She went immediately to stand with her husband, who put a protective arm around her.
"Well?" Said Mrs. Williams, "why are you throwing Mr. Smith out? This is the very man who saved our home and our lives when he worked here - and you're treating him like some kind of criminal."
The ranch owner was deeply embarrassed to have to say, "Because he is one. Erma and Eddie Mae, I'm sorry you have to be in the presence of this man. You may remember him as Joshua Smith, but his real name is Hannibal Heyes. His gang struck both the judge and ourselves, more than once, as you know well."
Eddie Mae's mouth dropped opened silently. She leaned into her husband's protective arms, all the while looking at Heyes with hurt in her big, blue eyes.
But Mrs. Williams looked at their guest with a smile, "Despite your criminal past, Mr. Heyes, I welcome you gladly. You and your partner have done wonders for the Wyoming Penitentiary, where I'm a member of the Ladies' Aid Association. In fact, we were founded in response to the testimony of you and your partner. We are deeply grateful to you for standing up to that awful man Johnson and testifying against him. And we're very glad you spoke so frankly about all the changes the Penitentiary needed. After all you had been through, it was a brave and selfless thing for you to stay here for days making sure the men's stories got heard. Husband, Judge, I know Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry sinned in the past, but they are doing good work now. I think it would be wonderful to have Mr. Heyes teach at the University. He's a very gifted teacher, I understand, as his partner is an excellent lawman. So I forgive them freely for the harm they did us. Mr. Heyes, please give my best to your partner when you next see him."
Mr. Williams sighed heavily. "Erma, he robbed us. But if you're big enough to forgive him a few thousand, I suppose I can put up with him for an evening."
"Thank you, ma'am, sir," said Heyes. "That means a lot to me, and Mr. Curry will feel the same way. We know we've done a lot of things wrong. We're trying to do what we can to help folks, now. We just need a chance."
"So I insist that you stay and let me serve you some wine, Mr. Heyes," said Mrs. Williams, gesturing for Heyes to follow her. "And tell me some stories about going straight."
"Well, I, for one, have better things to do than to drink wine with criminals," said the judge haughtily.
Heyes tried to make amends, "Sir, I really am very sorry."
The judge pointedly ignored the repentant criminal. He walked out of the room going rapidly toward the front door. Mr. William hurried to catch up with his departing guest, summoning his son-in-law to walk with them. Heyes could hear the three talking angrily while he was left alone with Ranger and the two women of the house.
"Ma'am, I really wasn't trying to make trouble. I'm terribly sorry to be upsetting your guest and your husband," said Heyes in an agony of embarrassment, holding his hat in both hands.
"Nonsense, Mr. Heyes," said Mrs. Williams. "Come to the parlor and let me open a bottle for you. And Eddie Mae, you seem to have misplaced your manners. Weren't you and this young man friends once upon a time?"
Eddied Mae looked with pained eyes at the former Bull Run hand. "I thought we were friends. But you didn't even tell me your real name."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Torrance," said Heyes softly. "My partner and I had to be very careful about our names in those days. We had gone straight, but we couldn't ever afford to forget that we were wanted dead or alive."
Eddie Mae didn't hide how hurt she was. "You knew how I felt about you. We had good times together, riding all around the ranch on your days off. I wonder now that you could be so carefree when you were wanted."
"I knew how to take care of myself," said Heyes. "And you." He remembered uncomfortably how close he had come to taking advantage of a girl not much over the age of consent. He was glad he hadn't done more than kiss her.
The girl Heyes had known when she was in her teens answered, "I guess you did. But did you really not trust me?"
"You were very young," said the former outlaw gently, walking next to Eddie Mae as they walked to the parlor, "I didn't want to put a nice girl like you in that kind of danger. Anyone who helped us, or even just failed to turn us in, knowing who we were, could have been brought up on aiding and abetting charges."
"And I was just a school girl with a crush on a famous outlaw. How you must have laughed at me," said Eddie Mae in a hurt voice, looking away from the man she had once adored.
Heyes touched the young woman's hand so that she looked up at him. He gazed into the blue eyes of the beautiful young woman standing next to him. "I never laughed at you. I promise you that. You were much too beautiful and too charming for me to ever see you that way. And you're even more beautiful now. I hope you and Torrance have a very happy life together with lots of children."
Eddie Mae blushed even harder, realizing how much she cause for embarrassment she was giving her husband. Even then, he was coming into the fine Williams parlor to stand with her. "Thank you, Mr. Heyes," continued Mrs. Torrance. "I love Torrey very much and I always did. I just got my head turned now and then when I was younger."
"As young girls will," said Blaze Williams, looking indulgently at his often wayward daughter. What no one said, in front of Eddie Mae and her husband, was how often Torrance had in the past had his head turned by pretty women. His wife knew it well enough. It had taken the passage of years and the acquisition of some sense to get the capricious pair to settle down with one another. Torrance fondly put an arm around his pregnant wife, glad that they had chosen each other.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but Mr. Heyes hasn't had dinner yet," said Ranger, "He's been stuck for the last hour and more telling stories to the boys in the bunkhouse. They had a lot of questions and he answered them all as politely as you please. He didn't gripe once, but I know for a fact he's about to fall over for lack of sustenance. They didn't even let him sit down."
Mrs. Williams laughingly said, "Why didn't you speak up sooner? Eddie Mae, come with me to the kitchen so we can get some dinner for Mr. Heyes. And I'll bet you haven't had a bite either, Ranger, have you?"
"That is a fact, Ma'am," replied Ranger. "But I haven't seen my wife since I got back from Idaho, either. So I'd better go home and remedy that."
"Thank you, Ranger. Hope I'll see you before I go back to town in the morning," said Heyes to his former boss.
"I'll be sure to find you before you ride out," said Ranger. "Our place is right by the bunk house. But if I don't, you just leave the horse at the livery stable where you got it. Somebody from Bull Run will pick it up later."
"Bunk house, my foot!" exclaimed Mrs. Williams. "Mr. Heyes will be staying the night in our guest room, of course."
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Heyes. "I surely do appreciate that."
"I'll have somebody bring your suitcase over from the bunkhouse, then," said Ranger, "I see you brought your briefcase yourself."
"Thanks, Ranger," said Heyes. "I'll see you in the morning."
While the two women were busy in the kitchen, Heyes, Mr. Williams and Torrance were left together in awkward silence sitting in the parlor. "Say, Heyes," said Torrance after a moment. "How's your partner these days?"
"He's the sheriff in Louisville, Colorado. He broke his leg the other day going after a murderer, but his deputy caught the man. Jed's got a real nice wife to look after him, and they're expecting a baby, so I guess he's pretty happy despite the leg." Heyes hoped he could get Mr. Williams and his son-in-law to feel decently toward his partner, since it was clear that Williams wasn't feeling very warmly toward Heyes himself yet. Maybe the aspiring professor could eventually make inroads indirectly via the lawman in the family.
"Well, I'm glad to hear he's upholding the law, at last," said Williams without much enthusiasm. "
"He's trying, sir, as am I," said Heyes modestly. He'd been bending over backwards to be mild and modest since he entered the house. It was a strain.
"What's in the valise?" asked Torrance curiously, looking back to where Heyes had left his briefcase at his feet.
Heyes grinned. "I guess it does seem a little strange for me to be carrying around a briefcase when I'm in my western gear. When I'm in a suit, like I am most of the time these days, it looks more natural. I've got certified copies of my amnesty and pardon papers and my diplomas in there. I take those everywhere. The originals are safely at home. They're worth a lot to me."
"Heyes, I'd like to take a look, if you'll it," said Williams. "As a member of the University Of Wyoming Board Of Trustees, I'd like to know all the details of your amnesty and your pardon."
"Of course, sir," said Heyes. He leaned over and opened the briefcase that sported his initials. "Here you go. You'll notice they require me to apply to teach college in western states, particularly Wyoming, Colorado, Montana, and Texas, before I can accept work anywhere else or for any other kind of work. That's no burden – it's what I want to do anyway."
As Mr. Williams read through the stack of formal documents, Torrance looked quizzically at the reformed outlaw before him. "Isn't being a professor kinda' different for you?"
The former safecracker broke out laughing at that. He had to catch his breath before he could answer. "It sure is! That's the idea, Torrey. Nobody shoots at me these days."
"But don't you find it kinda' hard to, you know, adjust?" asked the handsome blonde cowboy, who looked a bit stiff in his good suit. He knew something about adjustments himself, having moved from the bunkhouse to the big house by way of marrying decidedly up the social ladder.
Heyes nodded. "I've had more than a little to learn – that's what college is about, after all. I like to learn the school stuff. It's fun. And there's a lot more to it than that. My wife can tell you that I don't talk with my mouth full any longer, for starters. She made sure of that. It's worth it to learn good manners and academic stuff. I do like having a roof over my head and having enough to eat on a regular basis. I like wearing clothes without holes in them and not having sheriffs and bounty hunters on my heels. And I enjoy working in a field where there are plenty of people who know enough to really make me think and work to keep up with them. It makes me right proud when I can outsmart them."
"What, wasn't staying ahead the sheriffs and out-stealing all the other outlaws enough for you?" the blonde cowboy wanted to know.
"Heck, no!" exclaimed Heyes. "After all those years, it was pretty dull when we weren't actually dodging bullets or breaking out of jails. I really do love learning all the interesting ways to use math, and coming up with my own new ideas. And teaching is a blast. I got to admit, having a couple dozen city-slicker students snap to attention when I come in the room is pretty nice. And I do enjoy writing back and forth with the top mathematicians in Europe, learning all the things they're working on and sharing my own thoughts. It's real nice when they brag on me in French and German."
"You read French and German?" asked Mr. Williams, looking up from reading the amnesty papers.
"Sure," replied the aspiring professor. "And write 'em, too. I can't expect all those guys to know English. It's not that important a language in the academic world. It's getting more respect, thanks mostly to British scholars, but it has a ways to go. We Americans are starting to get some attention now days."
"Come on into the dining room, Mr. Heyes," said Eddie Mae from the doorway. "We have some dinner for you. I'm glad there was some left from earlier."
It didn't take much tempting to get the famished former outlaw into the dining room. Torrance and Mr. Williams went along to keep him company and partake of an extra slice of blueberry pie each. There was even ice cream to go with it.
Mrs. Williams sat next to her former outlaw guest and peppered him with questions in between bites. Eddie Mae listened for a while before she quietly left the room.
"So, Mr. Heyes," said her mother, "you not only gained admittance to the Columbia University, you did well. That must have been quite a step up from your former schooling."
"Yes, it was a long way from one-room school houses. But I took to college mathematics like a duck to water, Mrs. Williams," said Heyes. "I used a lot of math in making plans for jobs when I was a thief. I'd learned some from an old teacher who rode with us in one of my gang. And I read all the books I could get my hands on, while I was still stealing. But I had a lot to learn from Charlie Homer and the other professors at Columbia."
"I suppose you did. It's a long way from blowing up safes to doing all those long formulae in that article of yours," said the lady of the house admiringly
"You read my article?" Heyes looked from his steak, startled.
"After what you did for the Penitentiary? I've read every word I can find about you, young man." The aspiring professor had a devoted fan in Mrs. Williams. "I still can't quite believe all the things you've done. You've worked very hard at your studies, that's for sure. Indeed, the modest, hard-working scholar I've met tonight seems to have hardly anything in common with the infamous outlaw we've all heard so much about."
"I hardly know whether to say thank you or I'm sorry," said Heyes. "I have worked as hard as I could – my studies are very important to me. And what I can do with them to help other folks – that's even more important."
Mrs. Williams asked, "I can see that, but why, Mr. Heyes? Why didn't you care before and why do you care so much now? What happened to make you go so straight?"
Heyes thought for a moment while he chewed another bite of tender steak from a Bull Run steer. "It wasn't so much just going straight, Ma'am. After the Kid and I started going for amnesty, I was still ducking out on hard work and just trying to stay free and with enough money not to starve to death."
He stopped to consider while he took a sip of red wine. "What set me going to where I wanted to go to college and be a professor came after that. It was when I got shot in the head. When I woke up and couldn't even understand English, much less say anything or write anything – that just shattered me."
Mrs. Williams looked at her guest in compassion. "I suppose so. It sounds terrifying. And frustrating."
"Yes, Ma'am, it surely was. And hard on my pride. Real hard. I'd been an arrogant man, I admit it. As a famous outlaw, I thought I was really something. But when I couldn't even talk or take care of myself and was hardly even sane, it just knocked the stuffing out of the proud outlaw. I could see how much I needed other people. I wondered if I was really worth all the trouble they were taking over me."
"Yes, I can't see you having an easy time being dependent." Mrs. Williams gazed in understanding at Heyes.
The visiting celebrity nodded as he swallowed a bite, being very careful not to talk with his mouth full as he had so often before he had met Beth. "I could hardly believe what people were willing to do to help me. Not just my partner and the woman he's married to now – lots of other people, too. Most of them didn't even know who I was – at least at first. I leaned so much on folks like my doctor and my advisor at the Columbia and the woman who's now my wife. They've all done so much for me."
"It must have been hard on your pride," Mrs. Williams said with compassion for the owner of sizable male ego.
"Yes. I guess the only way could earn back any pride at all so I could stand up straight was to prove I could do as well as they could. I had to prove to myself that, like them, I could help other folks. And once I got started at Columbia and saw how my advisor – who's from Wyoming, by the way – how he could change lives with his teaching - well, I knew that's what I had to do. I had to be like him, and that's what I'm trying to do."
"So that's why you decided to teach?" Mrs. Williams asked, in fascination at the story she was hearing.
"Yes. Back years ago, I had taught guys at the Hole to read and do math. So I already knew about teaching, and I must admit that I'm good at it. It feels real good to help other folks, like a crippled boy who's in school at Columbia. I tutored him and he responded so well. A friend and I made a saddle so he could ride for the first time. The smile on his face when he first got to gallop – I'll never forget it." The smile was reflected on Heyes' own glowing face as he spoke.
Mrs. Williams was staring, rapt, at her guest as he spoke passionately about the transformation he had undergone. Mr. Williams had tried to pretend to take no interest, but he wound up watching the former outlaw almost as raptly as his wife did.
Still, Mr. Williams said very little to a guest of whom he was still clearly skeptical. "Well, Mr. Williams," said the former outlaw, "do you think I have a shot with the University of Wyoming faculty, or shouldn't I ask?"
As Williams paused to think about this, Eddie Mae returned to the dining room with several pieces of paper in her hand. "Papa, before you answer, you really ought to hear what this letter says."
Heyes reached into his briefcase and looked at his host's daughter with concern. "That, Mrs. Torrance, is my personal correspondence. I would be obliged if you would return it to me and stop looking at things that don't concern you."
Eddie Mae didn't back down from the forbidding tone of the former gang leader's voice. "I didn't read the letter from you or the one to you in French, Mr. Heyes, although Papa dropped the whole bundle in the parlor when he was reading your amnesty papers. But this one addressed in French "Monsieur" – which here obviously means, "to whom it may concern." Doesn't it seem that my father is one of those concerned?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so," said Heyes, clearing his throat nervously. "It's just a letter of recommendation."
"So, will you be angry if I use my schoolgirl French read it aloud?" Eddie Mae wanted to know. "I've had a French pen pal for years, so I'm really pretty good."
Heyes sighed. "I suppose I can't object, if your father's interested. But I ought to warn you, Professor Martin gets a little . . . florid, I guess you'd say, even for a Frenchman."
"Who's he?" asked Torrance.
"He's a mathematician I've been writing back and forth with for years – a professor of mathematics at the Sorbonne," explained Heyes.
"The Sor-what?" asked Torrance.
"The Sorbonne. It's the most famous university in Paris, honey," said Eddie Mae with some excitement as she went to sit by her husband. "So, Mr. Heyes, do you mind if I read it, translating for my father? I really think he ought to know what Professor Martin has to say about you."
"I guess not, if you put it that way," said Heyes in resignation. "Go ahead, Mrs. Torrance, but don't mind me if I blush."
Eddie Mae cleared her throat held up the letter, smiling at Heyes as she began her steady translation from the French. In spite of himself, Heyes found it charming to hear the lovely young woman reading about him in her blended western and southern accent, "To whom it may concern. I write to recommend Mr. Hannibal Heyes as a candidate for your position for a junior professor of mathematics. I have no hesitation in recommending Mr. Heyes very highly for such a position. I am sure you are familiar with his impressive academic record and the fine presentations he has given at conferences. I have corresponded with Mr. Heyes on mathematical subjects for some years. While I was originally in ignorance of his colorful past, I was always aware of his great facility with complex mathematical calculations. And one cannot deny his extraordinary ability to discover new ways to apply such calculations to practical problems. Even as he was only beginning with the French language, he was able to explain his new formulations and their applications with engaging clarity. In his native English, his communication is said to be even more compelling.
Since I have never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Heyes in person, I must refer you to others for recommendations of his ability as a lecturer. But as a mathematical thinker, with particular regard to ballistics and other aspects of trigonometry and its relation to physics, he is quite extraordinarily brilliant. He is particularly interested in the use of ballistics and explosives in mining, land clearing, and war. Phenomena that others find challenging to rationalize, he resolves into clear and reliable formulae. Be it gun power, dynamite, or nitroglycerine, he knows from practical experience what any explosive will do in any circumstances. His mathematical formulae are all backed by experimentation. He describes his approach with admirable clarity. Thus, I would expect him to be an excellent teacher. His work is already saving lives in Europe. In short, he is a very useful mathematician who surely has a wonderful career ahead of him. You would do very well to have him in your department as a teacher and a researcher.
I must say to you in America that we in Europe have been trying to persuade the man we knew as Joshua Smith to come across the Atlantic Ocean. You should forget his past and hire him to teach in America right away or you will miss your chance. Mr. Heyes professes to be bound not only by his amnesty agreement but by his own inclination to teach in America and most particularly in the western areas where he was once the scourge of the law. He wishes to serve his native land and his fellow westerners. You must see that he is a true patriot. If you will not employ his gifts in the land of his birth, we will offer him far greater compensation to work in Europe and without the prejudice he and his good wife must suffer at home. He is well aware of this, but puts his own country first.
Sincerely, Professor Alphonse Martin."
By the time she finished reading, Eddie Mae was smiling warmly at the reformed outlaw who sat at the dinner table blushing. She said with enthusiasm, "We're so proud of you, Joshua! Oh, I beg your pardon, Professor Heyes. I didn't mean to be too familiar with such an important man."
"Don't worry, Ma'am," said Heyes. "I'm just an out of work graduate right now. And I changed my middle name to Joshua, so you're welcome to call me by it."
"Heyes, is all that true?" asked Mr. Williams.
"Um, as I said, he gets enthusiastic, does Professor Martin," said Heyes, carefully pronouncing the French professor's name in correct French rather than English.
"But is it true? About how good you are and that you're getting offers from European schools?" demanded the owner of the ranch.
"About how good I am, well, I think I'm pretty good. To confirm that, you should look at my transcripts and speak to my advisor. I haven't applied in Europe yet. Several professors from France, Germany and other places have told me I'd be welcome over there in a kind of general way, though I haven't heard back from them all since I wrote them about my real name. I haven't had any specific offers yet. Like he said, I want to take my best shot in America first. I'm an American and a Westerner. I want to stay here and help my home country if I possibly can. My amnesty requires that I do just that, but it's also the way I'm inclined. My wife and I want to raise our family in our own country if we possibly can."
"But if no school in America wants you, you'd teach in Europe? You have the languages and so on?"
"Yes, sir. After I take my best shot here, my amnesty allows me to go elsewhere so long as I stay on the right side of the law. My German is better than my French and I'd need to work hard on either one to be up to lecturing. But I imagine I'd be able to master either language at that level in a year or two. They tell me that being surrounded by a language in the country where they speak that language and nothing else brings up the skill levels pretty fast, especially if a person works at it like I would. Dutch or Italian would be tougher, since I haven't had classes in those languages, but I'm picking up a bit from letters and using the dictionaries so much. I'd rather stay here, but I imagine I could get along fine over there."
Williams' blue eyes grew wide. "Good gracious! And the Europeans don't care about your troubles with the law?"
Heyes tried to look modest, but he did want his potential American employers to realize that they had serious rivals across the Atlantic. "The ones I've heard back from since I told them my real name are kind of startled, but they don't seem to think it would keep me from getting a position. I wouldn't object to teaching to England, or Germany, or Switzerland, or Austria, or France . . ."
"Since you're a genius," added Eddie Mae flatteringly.
"Well, I don't want to be immodest." Heyes' eyes sparkled as he enjoyed impressing a beautiful young woman.
"But you do need to tell the truth," countered Eddie Mae.
"I'm told it's the best policy," said Heyes with a grin.
Torrance frowned at his wife. Heyes saw the look and reined himself in instantly. Flirting with a friend's wife who was also a board member's daughter didn't look good. "My wife always wants me to be honest," said Heyes, glancing at is elder hostess. "She's very upright."
"And she married you?" asked Torrance accusingly.
"What's your wife like, Mr. Heyes?" asked Mrs. Williams, trying to get the conversation moving in a more useful and less hostile direction.
Heyes smiled at the thought of Beth. "We met at the Leutze clinic. She's the tutor there. I enjoyed working with her right from the start. I was surprised to find out how much we had in common."
"A tutor from New York City has what in common with a former outlaw from Kansas?" asked Mr. Williams in surprise.
"I'm from Missouri, actually, and Elizabeth is from Maryland. But we're the same age and we were both orphaned as children. We both love learning. And reading. And teaching. Going to plays – especially Shakespeare. And we both enjoy art and music, though she knows a lot more than I do about both. And we love to dance together. She's great at the waltz." Heyes smiled at the memory. Mrs. Williams laughed indulgently, giving her husband a loving look.
By the time everyone was going off to bed and Mrs. Williams was showing her infamous guest the guest room made up for him, Heyes was feeling a lot better about his welcome at the Williams' house than he had ever expected. He felt grateful to Eddie Mae, though he had to be careful of that lovely and very pregnant young lady. She didn't keep it a secret that she still found a certain former outlaw very attractive, perhaps even more so now that she knew about his academic prowess. And Mr. Williams still seemed skeptical about the transformation of a former outlaw into a professor.
Heyes had an early breakfast with Mr. and Mrs. Williams. "So you're interviewing tomorrow, Heyes?" asked the owner of the ranch.
"Yes, sir," said Heyes, over eggs and bacon. "I look forward to seeing the university. Needless to say, I didn't get to see it on previous trips. It's not that near the Penitentiary or the saloons or banks."
Mr. Williams suppressed a smile. "I can't properly wish you luck, but I can say that I'm glad I got the opportunity to talk with you before you interview."
Heyes said a warm, but not too warm, farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Williams, and Mr. and Mrs. Torrance. "Thank you very much for putting me up, folks," he said as he stood near the door. "You have a lovely place here. I wish you well with the family and the ranch."
"Good luck with the jobs, Heyes," said Torrance, the tone of his voice hinting that he hoped perhaps Heyes found work in another state.
Heyes walked down the hill in the pleasant morning air to pick up his borrowed horse from the stable near the bunkhouse. He found Ranger waiting for him.
"So, how'd it go with Mr. Williams? Is he gonna shoot you down for the job?" asked Ranger as he saddled up his own horse and showed Heyes where to find what he needed to saddle up his horse.
Heyes answered over his shoulder as he saddled his borrowed bay. "I'm not real sure. If it was Eddie Mae going to hire me, I wouldn't have a doubt. But with Mr. Williams, we'll have to see. After all, the board doesn't get to rule until after the dean and the faculty have their say."
"So, Mrs. Torrance remembers you after all," said Ranger, gently teasing the former outlaw.
"She does. I wish she hadn't made that quite so clear. It didn't make her husband any too happy and didn't help with her father, either. But you know Eddie Mae and her wandering eye." Heyes chuckled.
"I do. Her eye doesn't wander as badly as it did when she was seventeen, but she still enjoys looking, and most men like to look back." Ranger chuckled. He had always been one of Eddie Mae's favorites himself, which didn't make life perfectly comfortable for him on the ranch. But after so many years, he had figured out how to get along.
"Tell me something, Heyes. You were about as polite and modest as any minister with the Williams. That don't square real well with what I heard about Hannibal Heyes the outlaw. He was supposed to think mighty well of himself. And you did come across as pretty full of yourself when you were a hand here."
Heyes grinned in embarrassment. "Yeah, well, I'm afraid you're right - I deserved my reputation. I was an arrogant bastard in my day. I felt like I was in charge and everybody else could stay out of my way. Now that I'm trying to stay out of prison and get some university to hire me, it seems like I need to change my approach. It's tough to boss people around and then ask favors of them. So I try to be as nice as I can."
"Still conning your way, Heyes?" Ranger grinned.
The former outlaw only laughed as he led his horse out of the stable and mounted up. The two men rode off the ranch and into town together. Ranger had errands, but first he dropped off his horse and Heyes' at the livery stable. They kept things as quick as possible to head off the locals gawking at the visiting celebrity.
But there was a little crowd gathered around the train station as Heyes got on the train east to Laramie.
"Bye, Heyes! Good luck!" shouted Ranger after the ex-outlaw as his train pulled out of the station. Joshua waved out the window to his former boss, trying to look as if he wasn't worried in the least. But he was. His thoughts kept going back to the letter the sheriff had told him about. The idea of being called in to the State Penitentiary at Laramie worried him more and more. What on earth did they want with him?
Heyes didn't have much more than a couple of hours to worry over the question before the train pulled into the Laramie station. It looked all too familiar from when Heyes had been in town to be tried for second-degree murder. He couldn't help sweating more than the summer weather demanded. The former outlaw decided to stay at the Golden Fleece, the same hotel where he and the Kid and their friends had stayed when they had last been in town. It wasn't the cheapest place, but they already knew him there. He wouldn't have to explain who he was.
Sure enough, as Heyes stepped up to the front desk, the clerk greeted him in a soft voice. "Welcome back, Mr. Heyes. We didn't expect to see you again so soon. Is your partner well?"
The visiting celebrity smiled gratefully at the canny clerk who had been careful not to pair those names in a way that would revealing their identities if the conversation were overheard. "He's a sheriff in Colorado now. He broke his leg chasing a murderer, but he'll be alright." Heyes, too, kept his voice cautiously low.
"I do hope he'll recover fully. Can I ask what brings you back to town, sir?" asked the clerk. When he didn't get an immediate answer from the wary ex-outlaw, he added, "I might get questions from the press or the law and I'd like to know how you want them handled."
Heyes nodded. "Sure. I understand. With the law, of course, don't hide anything. That could get me in a lot of trouble and maybe you, too. I'm in town to interview for the positon of professor of mathematics at the University of Wyoming. Please try to keep the press away. The interview is 9:30 tomorrow morning, but don't share that with the press. I don't want them laying for me. I'll need transportation."
"To the main building at the University?" asked the clerk.
"Yes, if that's where the dean's office is." Heyes hoped the hotel clerk knew more than he did about the school.
"That's right, sir. It's a very handsome new stone building less than a mile west of here. Shall I have the surrey pick you up at about 9:00 AM at the front entrance? Will that give you enough extra time?"
"Thank you. Yes, that ought to do it – it I don't get too much attention. If word starts to get out and we get gawkers and press, we might need to do something a little less public. I don't want to embarrass the university, or this hotel, for that matter." A dollar bill found its way across the desk and discretely vanished from view. "I'm afraid my name got out at the last town where I was. People were all over me. I don't want that here."
The clerk was a thoughtful fellow. "I understand, sir. Shall we send meals up to your room to help you to remain incognito?"
Heyes found this strangely reminiscent of his outlaw days. "Yes, thanks. I think I might be away for lunch today, but I'd be glad to have a room service dinner. Steak, potatoes, whatever fresh vegetable you have, and red wine would do nicely. Steak medium rare. Wine dry."
"Very well, sir. Can we provide transportation to your lunch appointment today?"
Heyes worried over the expense of all this, but he had to do what he had to do. "I'll just need a horse saddled. Where I'm going isn't far away, but I'm not sure how long it will take."
The clerk nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll have a saddled horse and ready out front in ten minutes time."
"Thanks. I took a middle name since I was here, so that might help with privacy." Heyes slipped an additional tip across the desk, considering the number of favors he was asking, and signed the register, "H. Joshua Heyes, New York City."
"We will do all we can to keep things quiet for you, sir. And may I wish you good luck?" The clerk's eyes communicated what looked like real sympathy with his famous customer. Heyes appreciated the compassion, even if it was probably just a professional doing the acting aspect of his job.
A quarter of an hour later, Heyes was riding toward the all-too-familiar fortress where he had spent three days behind bars. It felt like he had gotten out only yesterday. There it was – the pale brown sandstone building with darker brown stone around the windows and doors. As he pulled up his borrowed horse in front of the Penitentiary, Heyes took out his old polka dotted bandana and wiped sweat off his neck. Heyes felt sure he could smell the place already.
Heyes tied his borrowed horse to a rail near a water trough outside the door to the offices. He had always thought it was strange that the door was under a little pediment almost like you would expect for a church. This place included a chapel, but it was no church. The ex-inmate took a deep breath and knocked on the imposing front door. He felt terribly stupid for walking into a place where he had once, not long before, not been free to walk out. What if they had, for some unknown reason, changed their minds about the amnesty and pardon? Heyes clutched his briefcase. The documents were there. The authorities couldn't rescind them, could they?
A stiff guard in a blue uniform and armed with a rifle answered the door. "Can I help you?"
The former inmate swallowed. "Yes. The warden asked to see me."
"What's your name?" the guard inquired.
"Hannibal Heyes."
The guard's disciplined training held, but there was a pause as he took in this information. Then the guard turned and spoke to another staff member in the offices behind him, "This man wants to see the warden." He motioned the clerk over and spoke softly as he revealed the visitor's famous name.
Heyes straightened his shoulders and walked in to the Wyoming State Penitentiary. He looked uneasily at the heavily armed guards who stood on either side of it. An office worker in a suit said, "Come in please, sir. If you can sign in with that man at the desk, we'll get you in to see the warden."
"Do you know why the warden wants to see me?" Heyes tried to keep the insecurity out of his voice.
"No, I don't, Mr. Heyes."
"Do you have your amnesty and pardon papers with you, Mr. Heyes?" asked the clerk behind the desk.
"Not the originals, but I have copies certified by governor. Here they are," Heyes pulled the vital documents out of his briefcase.
"I see. Very good. Please sign here."
Heyes obliged, signing with his full legal name so there could be no question of his hiding anything.
"You can sit over there to wait. I'm not sure how long he will be." Heyes found a stiff ladder-back chair. He was unable to keep from fidgeting a bit. But it was only a few minutes before he heard the clerk say, "Mr. Heyes, Warden Miller will see you now."
"Thanks," said Heyes, picked up his briefcase. He stepped into the warden's office. He tried to look businesslike and not as if he expected to be arrested at any minute. A secretary at another desk looked keenly at the famous former inmate, then turned back to his work.
"Welcome, Mr. Heyes!" exclaimed the stout, mustachioed warden, extending a hand to Heyes from the chair at his desk stuffed with papers. "Have a seat." Heyes noticed that this warden had added a stuffed deer head to the wall and a mounted partridge on a shelf. He supposed the man was a hunter.
"I'm Warden Horatio Miller. Your history here has a lot to do with my job. I appreciate your coming when I know you're a busy man. We have tried to do all we can toward what you and Mr. Curry advised, though we're always struggling to get the money and people we need. I'll be happy to show you around myself."
"That's very kind of you, Warden," said Heyes, "Promises are one thing but I'll be glad to know what's really going on. But when I checked in with the sheriff in Rawlins, I got the impression that I wasn't just invited for a tour. I was summoned to appear while I'm in the state. He made it sound like I'd be in real trouble if I didn't show. So here I am. What's the problem?" Heyes was perplexed, and annoyed, as heck and didn't hide it.
"Problem? I'm not aware of any problem. Didn't the sheriff show you the letter we sent? We sent it out to all the sheriffs on the main railroad lines, since we knew you would have to check in somewhere. Knowing your history in Wyoming, we weren't sure where you might be before you arrived in Laramie. Since we knew you would be in the state, we wanted to show you the changes we've made here since you left. Come with me, please." The bustling warden headed out the door and Heyes got up to follow him.
Heyes couldn't help sweating at the all too familiar sights, sounds, and smells as they went past a parade of chained inmates in their black and white striped uniforms who were being marched down the halls from their cells by several guards. There was no time to look carefully to see if the former inmate recognized anyone. It seemed as if the Heyes and his guide covered a mile of halls, cells, yards, and jury-rigged classrooms in the next hour. Miller talked nearly every minute as he showed off all the new programs being started for teaching, gardening, and encouraging expression by the inmates. The gardens couldn't be actually planted until the following spring, but two plots were neatly set out and lined with white rocks. Inmates were digging to prepare two more plots. Heyes smiled to see a man in a suit teaching a trio of inmates their letters, while another was teaching four men elementary math in another corner of the same hall where the men would be eating come noon. "Heyes, thank you!" said one of the inmates the man with amnesty recognized. He was pleased to see the man not punished for speaking.
"Glad to help!" responded the former inmate. But soon, the warden and his guest were on their way to see more improvement in the work rooms, the cells, and the bathroom. Heyes was panting to keep up. He found not a moment to ask more about why he had been summoned to appear, other than to go on this tour.
Finally, Hannibal Heyes sat in a curved back wood chair across from the warden's desk. "Thank you for the tour, Warden Miller. You've made some good changes since my partner and I were here. I'm glad to see the reading and math classes you've begun for the less educated inmates – well, that's most of them. And to see where the new gardens will be come next spring."
The portly warden's smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Heyes. I hope we're on the right path, thanks to the testimony from you and Mr. Curry."
Heyes nodded, trying to look casual and professional though his neck was sweating under his collar and tie in the summer heat. He had a hard time relaxing in a prison. "But I have some questions."
The warden looked expectantly at the famous former inmate. "I'll be happy to fill you in."
Heyes asked a question that had haunted his sleep. "There was a youngster here when I was in – a fourteen-year-old boy named Mosley. I haven't seen him today. How is he? He seemed like a bright boy who could do better than picking pockets if he got some guidance. In fact, he was teaching me things when he'd been inside only a few days more than I had."
Heyes thought he saw a smile quickly hidden behind the warden's ample mustache. "Before we get to that, what are your other questions?"
The former safe cracker didn't conceal his annoyance. "Why did I have to come here? Why did you send out that letter? I'm glad to see the reforms you've made, but being seen going to a prison could harm my chances to get a faculty post. What's this about?"
The warden said solicitously, "I'm sorry the sheriff gave you that impression, Mr. Heyes. We had no intention of putting any pressure on you. Quite the contrary."
The visiting former outlaw's eyebrows rose. Why did the law care to stay on the good side of Hannibal Heyes? What favor did they want?
"On the subject of Marvin Mosley, I concur - the boy has promise," said the Warden. "Indeed, he's been released."
Heyes grinned. "Released? That's great! I hope he'll get the chance to make something better of himself – but he'll need help. He's still a boy, and a head-strong one."
"Yes, he needs better guidance than he's had," agreed the warden. His voice turned serious. "But he doesn't have an upright family. No one knows who his father is. And his mother - we can't even find her at the moment. She might not still be living. I don't think she'd be much of a help even if we did manage to locate her. She is, well, a prostitute. And an alcohol-addicted one at that. Not a good influence on the boy."
"No," said Heyes sadly. "So where is Mosley now?"
"In a home for troubled boys here in Laramie." The warden watched his visitor closely.
"A home for waywards?" Heyes leapt furiously from his seat. "Jed Curry and I went wrong in a place like that!"
Warden Miller put up his hand. "Calm down, Mr. Heyes. This isn't like the home that neglected you and Mr. Curry. The state keeps careful watch. Mr. and Mrs. Cleveland take good care of the boys under their care."
"I'll believe it when I see it!" said the ex-inmate hotly, still standing with his eyes blazing. "An institution is no place for a boy – especially not one like Mosley."
The warden watched the man opposite his desk closely as he replied. "He's in a good place, but I agree that a boy needs a proper home and family. Especially a smart, but undisciplined boy like Marvin Mosley. And the Laramie Home for Boys won't take on any boy past the age of fifteen. Marvin's fifteenth birthday is coming up soon - on October 15th."
"So where will he go then?" asked Heyes anxiously, now sitting down, but still on the edge of his chair.
A line of tension appeared on the warden's brow. "We need to find a responsible family to give him guidance and a good education. We're working on it."
The aspiring academic said in worried, "I'm glad to hear it, but I'll be a sight gladder when I know where he'll be. He needs guidance but also freedom, or he'll just break loose again. I understand how that is. I've been there."
"I imagine you have," murmured the warden, looking down at some papers on his desk. "We'll, that's our concern. As to why we asked you . . ."
"Your concern? A prison? Do you really think you're qualified to know what a spirited boy like that needs?" asked the former inmate fervently, reaching toward the warden.
A light flashed in the warden's eyes as he locked gazes with Heyes. "And you do know? A notorious outlaw, only recently been released from prison? Who hasn't had any parents since he was nine and who's never raised a child? How would you know? And what concern of yours is Marvin Mosley anyway?"
"I know the boy. I worked beside him. I was put in solitary confinement on bread and water because I stopped a guard from beating him. I'm making Mosley my concern!" exclaimed Heyes, leaning forward in his chair.
"Have you ever cared for a teen-aged boy," the warden's voice was hard, "outside of a criminal gang?"
Heyes sounded chastened. "I know heading a criminal gang doesn't sound like good experience, but I gave those guys rules. A lot of the guys were real young. I started at fifteen, myself. At the Devil's Hole I made the rules clear and enforced them. I didn't allow any abuse from anyone. I taught a fair number of the guys to read, write and do some math. I even told some of them to leave and make an honest living. None of them ever came back. I hope I understand better now what young guys need than I did back before I went straight. After all, I've been trained to teach college – including boys in their teens. I won an award for teaching."
Warden Miller sat back in his chair. A sigh escaped him. "Very well. We are searching for a proper guardian for Marvin Mosley. We asked him if he knew of any adult whom he would trust - whom he would respect and obey. He could think of only one such adult." The warden's keen gaze was trained on the man before him.
"And who was that?" asked Heyes.
"You."
Heyes sat in stunned silence. Finally he breathed, "Me?"
"Yes, you."
Heyes said softly, "But we were together for just a couple of hours before they hauled me off in irons."
"Yet I understand you had quite a talk," noted the warden.
The ex-con nodded. "About three words at a time, under cover of the washing machine noise, so the guards wouldn't beat us into silence. It was Mosley who taught me how to do that. But he couldn't keep it up – he got too enthusiastic and let the guards hear him talking."
Miller's voice was low, but firm, not letting the man before him off the hook. "And in those brief phrases, he learned enough to admire you."
Heyes snorted. "Only because I'm famous. He doesn't know me, and I don't know him. Not really."
The warden commented critically, "Mr. Heyes, you're backing off mighty rapidly from a boy you were breathing fire for a moment ago. Do you care or don't you?"
Heyes couldn't let that stand. "Of course I care! But he needs a stable home with plenty of space and enough money to get him food and clothes and all the stuff a boy needs. My wife and I live in a tiny apartment in New York City, barely scraping by. It's no place for a boy. I'm ashamed to say it, but we live mostly on my wife's income. I don't have a regular job yet. I'm doing some part-time bookkeeping and looking for a position as a professor of mathematics. We want to have children of our own. There's no way we can take him on. I can't ask that of Beth – my wife. I have to say no."
The warden said crisply, gathering up some papers on his desk and putting them aside, "Very well. We'll find someone else. Thank you for caring even a little. Of course I don't want to endanger your own rehabilitation by burdening you with that of another person."
Heyes slumped in his chair. He sat silently for a moment. "Um, Warden, what else was it you wanted to see me about? That was so important that you sent letters to all the sheriffs in Wyoming?"
"We just discussed it, Mr. Heyes. Mr. Mosley's future is that important to us, but if you can't help . . ."
Heyes swallowed. "Warden Miller, can you wait until I ask my wife about it?"
The warden's face lit up with hope. "Certainly, Mr. Heyes. But you were saying it wasn't possible."
Heyes nodded, biting his lip as he tried to figure this out. "All the problems are true. But if I can get a post as a professor, maybe out west, even in Wyoming, perhaps we can manage to do it. Or if I can get any honest job that would pay better than what I have. But my wife – she needs to agree, of course. Could you give us any financial help? We have a lot of debts." Heyes felt sure the secretary at the other desk was staring at him, though he didn't turn to look. It was shaming to discuss his financial problems in front of strangers.
The Warden looked thoughtful. "We might be able to manage a small allowance to help you at first, to get you started. Not much, but something."
Heyes searched his heart as he asked, "How long do you want us to take Mosley? Until he turns eighteen?"
"Yes. And, of course, young men often need guidance after that."
Heyes smiled, thinking of himself. "Of course. Are you looking for someone to formally adopt Mosley?"
The warden explained, patiently, "No – just to foster him. Now, if a husband and wife proved to be good guardians and decided to adopt him, and he was amenable, then the state would not stand in the way. But right now, he just needs a home and a family he can count on."
The warden could see Heyes thinking about this as he said, "I see. I – Beth and I – we could try that."
Warden Miller looked at the infamous former criminal in front of him with genuine concern in his warm brown eyes. "Mr. Heyes, I know this is asking a great deal when you and your wife are struggling. I don't want to pressure you to do something you don't want to do."
Heyes replied, talking himself into something he could hardly have envisioned when he had walked through the prison doors earlier that morning. "I do want to do it. I'm telling deans that I want to educate western boys, to help my native part of the county. I mean it. Mosley is just the type of boy I hope I can help. He might listen to me when he'd ignore somebody who's never faced the kinds of troubles he's known. He knows some of my past and I'll tell him more. No two people are alike, I understand that. I'd to listen to him – not assume I know what's in his head. But I was an orphan, like he almost is. After I lost my family, I said I didn't want another family to take me in. But I think another family, the right family, if they'd come along in time, might have saved me. Maybe it's the same for him. It'll be hard for Mosely to trust another family. But if he's willing to try, if he trusts me, and my wife, then just maybe. And Beth – she's an orphan, too, you know – she wants children. And she loves me, with all my faults and my awful past. So she does understand that a man can change. We've even talked about Mosley a couple of times – how worried I've been about him. I think she might say yes. If I can just get that job."
The warden smiled cautiously as he extended his hand. "Mr. Heyes, thank you. This is something we can't order you and Mrs. Heyes to do. Young Mosley said you'd come through, if I asked you in the right way. I'm glad he was right. If you and your wife will consider it, that's all I can ask."
Heyes' eyes looked distant as he thought ahead. "I'll call my wife tonight."
"Would you like to go and visit Marvin now?" volunteered Warden Miller.
Heyes said decisively, "No. Not yet."
The warden was surprised. "Why not?"
Heyes spoke thoughtfully. "When he sees me, I have to be totally certain. If I'm not sure, he'll pick up on that immediately. I'm a pretty decent conman – I guess you know that. But I can't con that boy. I have to be completely honest with him. He'll understand why I need to wait until I have a job – that's a practical thing. But if I'm not totally committed, if I'm not sure of the woman who would a mother to him – that would destroy his trust."
The warden stood up from his desk and extended his hand. "I see. I'm glad you want to start honestly and go on that way. You're right. God bless you, Mr. Heyes."
"I think you might have a little conman in you, too, Warden Miller. I know what Mosley meant by how you asked me. It had to look like it was my own decision. I'm as independent as he is. I'll keep it in mind next time you try to convince me of something." Heyes winked at the warden. "I'd better go – I've got things to do before that interview on Monday morning. There's even more hanging on it now."'
Heyes felt excited, if worried, as he rode away from the prison. He could hardly wait to talk to Beth, and yet he dreaded asked so much of her.
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
In New York, Beth Heyes was putting on her apron, preparing to fix herself a lonely dinner, when she heard a knock on her apartment door. Through the door she heard her landlady call, "Mrs. Heyes, there's a telephone call for you!"
Beth opened the door. "Mrs. Westmoreland, thank you. I'm so sorry you've been bothered by us once again."
The kindly landlady said, "It's no trouble. Your husband is on the phone. He sounds concerned."
The two women hurried down the stairs. As had become their custom, Mrs. Westmoreland withdrew to her bedroom to give Beth privacy. "Heyes? What is it?" Beth said loudly into the mouth piece on Mrs. Westmoreland's parlor table.
"Beth? How are you?" came Heyes' voice, distorted by the primitive telephone.
"I'm fine, Heyes. How are you? Where are you?"
"I'm at the hotel in Laramie. I've got something to ask you."
"What's that, dear?"
"Beth, do you remember I told you about that boy I met in prison? Mosley?"
"Yes, I remember. He was in for picking pockets. You said he reminded you of yourself at that age."
"Yes. His first name is Marvin."
"Marvin Mosley. An alliterative name like yours. That's nice, but why did you call?"
"Um, Beth, they freed Mosely, but they put him in a home for wayward boys."
"Oh, dear! That doesn't sound like what he needs."
"It isn't. He needs a real home. And the place will throw him out when he turns 15."
"When is that?" Beth was already worrying and calculating.
"October 15th – just three months away. They need to find a home for him. He never knew his father and they can't find his mother. She isn't a fit mother anyhow."
"I see."
"He said I'm the only one he trusts."
"That makes sense, Heyes. You stood up to the guards and didn't let them beat him. Maybe nobody ever stood up for him before. It must have meant a lot to him, for Hannibal Heyes to care that much."
There was a long pause.
Beth spoke at last in a warm, encouraging voice full of her love for her husband. "Heyes, darling, you don't have to be afraid to ask me. I understand. You want to take in Marvin Mosley."
Heyes blinked. He had been so sure that Beth would understand, and he had been right. "Yes, I do. And the warden at the penitentiary does, and I guess the governor does, too. I keep telling deans and governors I want to help western boys who need teaching and guidance, and who might listen to me when they wouldn't listen to someone from a privileged and totally legal background. He's just that kind of a boy. He's very bright. I think he's a good kid – just wild. Like I was. Would you think about it, darling? What else do you want to know?"
"Do you think he really wants to try to do better? To go straight – like you did?" Beth asked.
"I don't know. I haven't talked to him. It could be hard for him. He's used to being independent."
"Like you were at that age."
"Yes. Except he doesn't have a cousin or anyone." Heyes could only imagine how hard thing had been for the boy.
"He needs parents," Beth said, knowing where it could lead.
Heyes didn't want to ask everything at once. "Guardians. We wouldn't have to adopt him."
"Heyes, did you promise that we would take him?"
"No, honey. I said to the warden that I want to, if I can get a job, but only if you agree. I won't go to see Mosley until you tell me how you feel. I don't want to be someone else he can't trust. I can ask him anything you want me to ask, but only if you're pretty sure you want to give this a try. I know I'm asking a whole lot of you."
"I understand, Heyes, darling. You know I want to be a mother."
"But we want our own babies. A fifteen-year-old pickpocket isn't what you signed on for."
"Is a fifteen-year-old pickpocket that much worse than a thirty-two-year-old bank robber like you were when we met? Or the Devil's Hole boys you taught to read and write?"
"I don't know. I've only spent a couple of hours with him." Heyes hated to ask so much when he knew so little.
Beth cut straight to the essential question, "Enough to think you might want to love him for the rest of your life?"
"Yes." There was no hesitation in Heyes' voice. "I guess I'm a sucker for people who trust me."
Beth took a deep breath. "If you want to be a father to this boy, then I want to be his mother."
"I love you, Elizabeth Heyes." Beth heard a catch in her husband's voice.
"I love you, too, Joshua. And I'm sure I'll love Marvin, too."
"He might not think he wants to be loved, Beth."
"He'll figure it out."
"Yeah, he will. Just like I did. Gosh, how I love you. Good-night."
"Good-night, Heyes." Beth Heyes hung up the phone and collapsed onto a blue velvet-covered love seat.
She took a deep breath and let it out. "What are we doing, Heyes?" she asked the empty air. Getting no answer, she went on, "Well, as long as we do it together."
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Heyes and Warden Miller rode to the Laramie Home for Boys early the next morning in a wagon with "Wyoming State Pen" stenciled on the side of it. "I'm sorry you have to be seen with those words," said the warden.
"I just don't want Mosley to be afraid of being hauled back to the Pen," said Heyes.
"You're already thinking like a father," said Miller encouragingly, smiling at the man sitting next to him.
The wagon pulled up on in front of big, rambling house on the edge of town. Heyes paused a moment before he knocked on the door. He could hear young voices on the other side. "You don't really know Hannibal Heyes. That's not him in the wagon."
"I do so know him. That is him. We were in the Pen together. He told me all about the Devil's Hole bunch."
"Mr. Cleveland, Marvin's lying!" whined a boy.
"Don't call me that!" Mosely retorted hotly.
The argument sounded very familiar to a boy named Hannibal. He knocked on the door. A lean man in a dusty suit opened the door. His blue eyes inspected the man before him. He asked warily, "Are you Hannibal Heyes?"
Heyes answered self-consciously, feeling the curious gazes of three boys on him. "Yes, sir. I've come to talk to Marvin Mosley. Are you Mr. Cleveland?"
"Yes. I run this place. Come in, please, Mr. Heyes, Warden."
"Thank you," said Heyes. He stepped into a dusty parlor that testified to a long history signs of hosting boys. There were fossils and carved wooden toys sitting around. Childish drawings were framed on the walls between educational prints. The furniture showed signs of wear.
Heyes smiled at the dark, slender boy who was watching him. "How are you, Mosley?"
"Not so bad, Heyes," said the dark little fourteen-year-old with a confident swagger. He glanced at the other boys, making sure they were impressed. Judging from their enormous eyes, they were.
"That's Mr. Heyes," said the famous man firmly, with a commanding gaze to math his voice, "If you want my wife and me to take you in, you'll treat us with respect, please."
Mosley's eyes widened. He said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Heyes. And um, I'd like to introduce Clarence Peters and Jeb Harrison." The manners sounded stiff and new, but the young jail bird was trying.
Heyes shook the hands of the two boys, who stood in silent awe. "I'm glad to meet you Clarence, Jeb. But may Mr. Mosley and I please talk privately?" asked Heyes.
"Of course," said Mr. Cleveland. "The other boys and I can show the warden our garden and our barn."
Soon Heyes and Mosley had the parlor to themselves. They sat side by side on a worn divan. Marvin whispered, "I didn't think you'd really come. That'd you'd want me."
"I do. But do you really want me? Are you sure you want to go straight? Really straight? To be a part of a family instead of going your own way like you have?"
Mosely stared at Heyes silently. Finally, he said, "Yeah," but it sounded more like a question than an answer. Heyes hadn't yet won his full trust, no matter what the boy had told the warden.
"What do you want to know about Mrs. Heyes and me and our home, before you decide?"
"Mrs. Heyes? You said you didn't have a wife." Mosley looked suspiciously at the man he had met in prison.
"I didn't, then. Elizabeth Warren – my tutor – married me after the Kid and I got out."
Heyes could see surprise in Mosley's young face. The boy said, "Oh. Would I get to meet the Kid? Mr. Curry, I mean?"
The former outlaw watched his potential ward closely, "Sure. He's my cousin – but how often I see him is gonna depend on where I wind up working."
"Could I have a horse?"
Heyes chuckled. "A horse? What would you do with a horse in New York City? – even if we could afford one."
"New York City? I thought you lived in Colorado."
"No, my partner does, with his wife. Beth and I rent a tiny apartment in Manhattan. We're poor, Mosley. I haven't been able to find a good job since I got out of prison. I just work part time and keep looking for jobs. People don't trust an ex-outlaw."
"I do," said Mosley. "I mean – I'm one, too."
"Thanks," Heyes gave the boy a warm smile. "A lot of folks won't hire me, being who I am. So my wife supports us, mostly. I'm trying to get a better job – maybe teaching college. It'll be a while before I know if I've got the post here in Wyoming, or any of the other jobs I'm trying for. So I'm afraid you'll have to wait a while."
This was a lot for Mosley to take in. His mouth made a surprised "o." "Wow! College? You must be really smart."
"I am. I think you are, too. You just have to learn to use it right. I hope that will be easier for you than it was for me."
Mosley stared at Heyes in wonder. "You'd really take me in? Truly?"
The ex-outlaw nodded. "We will if that's what you want. I can't take you now, but I can come back when I have a good job. I need to be able to pay for the things you need."
"Would you really come back for me, in October?" Mosley sounded younger and more anxious than one might expect of a fifteen-year-old.
"Sooner, if I can. Until then, I'll write to you." Heyes was trying to be as supportive as he could.
Mosley studied the wooden floor. "I don't read and write so good."
Heyes was tempted to correct the boy's grammar, but instead he said, "I'm glad you're being honest with me – like I am with you. Are you working hard in school?"
"I will." Marvin spoke very softly, but Heyes heard fresh conviction in those two words.
The aspiring father smiled warmly. "You be sure to do that. Mrs. Heyes and I like to teach students who work hard."
"You do?" Mosley looked up with bright eyes. "Even pickpockets?"
"Even pickpockets. I was a bank robber, after all. She taught me to write again after a bounty hunter shot me in the head. For a while after that I couldn't even talk. I was hard to teach. You don't have problems like that. Beth can teach you, easy. Easily. See – I still have to work at speaking correctly. We can help you, like she helped me."
Mosley paused and looked down at the floor. "My Ma's gone. I never had a Pa."
Heyes' voice sounded hoarse, "You do now."
