"Well, Thaddeus Jones, you ready to pick up that gun?" asked a man who had once used the same name. The words were soft and patient.
The skinny youth swallowed hard and hesitated a little longer, his right hand slightly extended. The sun shone hot on his old, wide-brimmed hat. The boy and the man were standing out back of the old livery stable where Curry often practiced shooting. The pistol sat on a little shelf Curry had nailed to a fence post to give him a safe place to put his bullets when he was loading his weapon. It was particularly helpful for a man on crutches.
Sheriff Curry spoke gently. "I got no intention to rush you, boy. I've shown you how to hold a gun and told you what I got to tell you about how to handle a gun right. You've repeated every word back at me. Now you got to think. I know a guy with a gun like that killed your pa. That's plenty for a man to think on."
The boy stared at the weapon. He glanced back at the famous man who had just called him a man. Thaddeus bit his lower lip in concentration.
He reached for the weapon. He took the 33 caliber pistol carefully in his right hand by its grip. He made sure it was pointed down at the dusty earth and not at or near himself or his instructor or anyone else. The gun trembled slightly for a moment, then steadied. The boy cautiously turned the chambers, looking into each in turn.
The youthful voice was steady. "It ain't loaded – just like you told me, sheriff."
"Good going, Thaddeus," said the Kid. "That took bravery."
The gawky boy grinned at the praise, but he didn't take his eyes off the gun in his hand.
"Now hand it to me, just like I showed you. Assume it's loaded even when you know it ain't. That's how you stay safe and keep everybody else safe, too. Take your time."
Cautiously, Thaddeus rotated the pistol so the sheriff could grasp the grips but the muzzle stayed pointed harmlessly at the ground.
"Good!" Curry took the gun from the boy and carefully put it in its holster at his hip. It felt strange to have a smaller, lighter weapon there than his own accustomed Colt. He tousled the boy's hair. "You did real good on your first gun lesson. I'll tell your ma about it. It'll make her proud. We can do another lesson on Tuesday. Alright?"
"Yes sir!" Thaddeus was thrilled.
"Alright, run along, Thad." The blue eyes shown with pride at the fatherless youth Curry was mentoring.
Thaddeus hesitated a moment, fidgeting with his hands in his overall pockets. "Um, Sheriff, when I get real good with guns, may I touch your Colt sometime?"
Curry answered without hesitation, but gently. "No. And that's what I'd say to anybody – not just you. My Colt – I worked on it and worked on it to make it the best for fast draw and fast fire. But only for me. You heard of a hair trigger?" The boy nodded, his eyes wide. "That ain't nothing to my Colt. It'll go off if you look at it cross ways. One time, a bounty hunter caught Heyes and me. He had us toss our weapons away. When we got free and went back to get our guns, Heyes started to pick up mine instead of his, by accident. It went off when he'd hardly touched it. Course, he's a pro handling guns, so he had it aimed away from everybody, nice and safe. But it about scared the pants off him." Curry grinned at the memory "If Heyes can't handle it, Thaddeus, I don't think you better try. Alright?"
The skinny boy was looking into Curry's calm blue eyes in awe. He whispered, "Alright, sir. Thank you, sir."
"You go off home, now. Your ma will be worrying," said Curry.
"Don't forget to come on Tuesday!" The sheriff called after the boy as he ran home.
"I'll be here!" Thaddeus shouted over his shoulder.
When Thaddeus was gone, Curry took up his crutches. "You been there a while, watching us," he said to someone behind him.
Cat stepped out from behind the corner of a nearby building. "Well, I didn't want to distract you and the boy. It's a treat to watch you with little Thaddeus. You're gonna make a fine daddy, Jed Curry." She gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek. "But I have news for you." She sounded serious.
Curry asked, "What is it, honey?"
"I was over at your office, taking lunch to you and the deputies. A telegram came in, from a sheriff up in Deuel County, Wyoming. It's right on the Colorado line, you know. He said the Teasdales were last seen riding in that county, heading southwest. In this direction. Al and Billy didn't look surprised. They did look pretty uneasy. I had to prod a bit, but they finally told me you heard yesterday about the Teasdales headed this way. So that's what's making you all broody and jumpy. Why didn't you tell me? I thought we shared everything." Cat's tone was far less accusing than her words.
When she saw the troubled look on her husband's face, Cat added, "I know you like to spare me, but please be honest with me."
Curry leaned his crutches against the fence and took his wife's hand. "Honey, guys like that – you can't hardly tell which way they're going. They're trying to throw off the law. If they're headed south one hour, it's west the next, or you don't even know. And Deuel County is a fair piece northeast of here. I didn't want to worry you over nothing."
Cat tried not to be a nagging wife, but she just had to convince her husband of something fundamental. "But you're fretting over it, Jed. Don't tell me you aren't. It's as plain as the nose on your handsome face. If it's enough to worry you, even not being sure, it's enough to tell me. Just because I'm pregnant doesn't make me foolish. I won't panic. I need to know the truth, so I can make up my mind about things and give you the support you need. Alright, Jed?"
There was a pause. Mrs. Curry could see the conflict in Jed's face. "Alright, Cat." Jed Curry took up his crutches and swung alongside his wife back to his office. "I'll let you know what I hear. You ain't like other women, you know that?"
Cat rubbed her head against her husband's shoulder. "Thanks, Jed. I think. I'll tell you one thing, husband. You might be thinking women don't know geography, but I do. You're trying to keep me from noticing it, but I do know not only how far north the Teasdale brothers are. I noticed how far east. The railroad lines there don't run north-south – they run east-west. And west-east."
A wrinkle appear across the Kid's ordinarily smooth brow. He nodded as he swung along on his crutches. "But they're on horseback."
The blonde woman wasn't going to let her infamous husband distract her from his own suspicions. "For now, Jed. For now. I have learned a fair bit about outlaws and their ways in the last six years."
The Kid sighed. "Well, that's true, sweetie. I can't deny it - outlaws have been known to switch modes of transportation."
They walked the back alley toward the center of town for a while in silence. Then Cat asked softly voiced the question in both of their minds. "You don't think those evil men are headed east toward your partner rather than you, do you? You've got deputies and guns. You're ready. But Heyes – his mind is on getting a job. He's not watching out for murdering outlaws. He might not even be armed a lot of the time. He told me he doesn't carry a gun on campuses. I sure hope that doesn't turn out to be dangerous. Jed, am I imagining things?"
The Kid grunted as he swung up onto the board walk. He stopped and looked at his bride. "We'll see, honey. They're probably just off to another job somewhere down this way. And Heyes does know how to watch himself." Curry paused and glanced at his wife.
"Jed, call him. Don't take chances. Let Heyes know he and Beth might be in danger."
"Those guys are a real long way from Heyes and Beth." Curry looked at his wife and saw the concern in her eyes. She didn't have to say anything. Curry said, "But just the same, I'll call them." He turned and went toward the door of the sheriff's office. Cat stared after him. She turned and walked back to Christy's Place. She was twisting a handkerchief nervously in her pocket as she went.
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"There you are, Joshua, that's Keuka College." Charlie White gestured grandly to the scene before them.
The sun was low over the woods behind the two men as they headed their horses out of the cool, shadowy woods and toward a wide green lawn aglow with late afternoon sunlight. Brilliant rays streamed over the roof and small central dome of a big, symmetrical five-story red brick building facing east. A double avenue of young trees marched from the building's gabled front porch down the lawn to the western shore of the lake. The water, rippling in a sharp breeze, was gleaming and sparkling with gold. The trees along the banks were reflected trembling on the water on either side of the vision of the façade upside down.
"Wow," exclaimed Hannibal Heyes with honest enthusiasm. "Dean, it's beautiful. What a setting!"
"Thank you. We're pretty proud of it," said Charlie White quietly as the two men leaned on their saddle horns. "That main building holds it all – classrooms, offices, labs, and dormitories. You'll get toured all over it tomorrow, in between being grilled by the board. But right now, I'm tired of being in the saddle and I'll bet you are, too."
"You could say that," laughed Heyes, stretching in the saddle and running his right hand along his back and hip. He gave a low moan. "Oh. It's been months since I spent this long on a horse. Sure, there was a time when this would have been a short ride for the Kid and me. I remember once we'd been in the saddle for days on end with hardly a break. When the posse was gone and we got into a town, he said he'd be real happy if he never had to ride a horse ever again. And then we saw in a newspaper that somebody had blamed another robbery on us, so we were off again."
The dean looked sympathetic. "I can imagine. You must have spent a lot of hard hours in the saddle."
"Oh, yeah. I feel for the horses we wore out." Heyes said with feeling as he and Dean White rode toward a stable behind the main building. Heyes patted Rocket affectionately. "But forget the past. It was great to ride with you today around this beautiful country, with nobody chasing us. Seems ideal to me. You ride a lot here?"
"As much as I can." The dean smiled. "Man does not live by teaching and administration alone."
As they rode, Heyes remarked, "It's quite a place. It must be a satisfying life - to gather deserving students and teach them here. Seems like a good spot for young folks to learn and grow. For the faculty and students to be able to get away between times and enjoy this pretty country between times – it seems ideal. I envy you."
The dean looked quickly away, but the distress in his blue eyes was clear. Heyes felt sure there was a painful story hiding there. The retired outlaw, all too familiar with hard stories, didn't push it. If something needed to come out, he'd learn about it later. If not, it was none of his business. He only wished others would be as thoughtful of how he felt about his own past.
Soon, they were at the stable and the college man-Friday, Mr. Wrenn, stood ready to deal with the tired horses. "Thanks, Roy," said the dean as he dismounted and gave his grey horse over to the college's man who did what needed doing. White gave his horse a pat on the rump as Wrenn took the animal's reins.
Heyes grunted as he swung his leg over his horse's back. He handed the bay with a fond pat on the nose. "Thanks, Mr. Wrenn. Rocket, huh? He's a fine animal."
"No trouble, eh? Glad you gentlemen had a pleasant ride. It's a good 18 miles from the train station to here – personally, I'd rather take a boat or a wagon." Roy Wrenn led the weary horses away with one walking on each side of him.
Charlie White pointed and said to his guest. "The inn is back this way. They'll have your things in your room." He studied his potential professor for a moment as the pair walked toward the Keuka Lake Inn. "Joshua, if riding hurts you, I wish you'd told me before I arranged for you to go 20 miles in the saddle."
"I'm fine," said Heyes crisply as he and the dean began walking toward the Keuka Lake Inn, where the painted sign showed a fat trout jumping out of the water.
Heyes' potential boss watched the weary x-outlaw with concern. "But you're limping. Old bullet wound?"
"Yeah, if it's any of your business." Heyes snapped. The dean looked at him in surprise.
Heyes took a deep breath. "Sorry, dean. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just, where I come from, you don't ask a man that kind of question. Or not a man like I am – like I was."
The dean was genuinely puzzled. "Maybe I'm dim, but I don't understand. Why not ask about something that's hurting you?"
"Every bullet hole comes with a story. I don't know one of them that's anything but painful. Sometimes my injury wasn't even close to the worst thing that happened at the time." Heyes turned and walked ahead of his chastened potential supervisor, cutting off the apology White had been about to make.
They walked for a while in silence. Gradually, Dean White caught up to the man he had hoped was becoming a friend. Heyes turned to him and said, a little uncertainly, "Tell me, Dean, do you think the students will ride me about my scars and my limp? And my silly name?"
Dean White gave a brief, wry smile. "They might, but I'm sure you can handle it fine, Joshua."
"Yeah. But I can't do what I did at the hole when the boys got sassy. In those days, I'd just glance at the Kid and he'd look back, maybe pat his pistol. Everyone would generally settle down. Now I have to discipline students without the Kid or even my gun. But don't you worry - I know how to do it legally and peacefully."
The dean chuckled. "I know you do. You don't win teaching awards if you can't manage a classroom. And I have spoken to Professor Homer about you, of course. And Professor Hargrove. What did we do before we had telephones? Joshua, would you like to get dinner with me at the inn? Or do you prefer to eat on your own?" He paused. "If you've had enough of me, I understand and wouldn't dream of holding it against you. But I warn you, you'll run into people from school at the Inn. It's about the only decent place in town to eat."
The aspiring professor was amenable. "Sounds good to me. We've done more riding and looking than talking. I can use more opportunity to make my case. Besides, I hate eating alone in public. I always feel like everyone's staring at me."
The dean walked closer to Heyes and lowered his voice as they neared the door of the old fashioned inn and a few people were passing in the street. "When they know who you are, I guess they might stare. But I've kept your full name as private as I can. I don't want the faculty and students to know until you're ready."
Heyes nodded. "Thanks. I appreciate that. You told Wrenn, though."
The dean stopped walking and frowned. "No, I didn't tell Roy. If he knows, it means word got out some other way. Maybe a board member. Or maybe he figured it out just from your name and what he saw in the papers about your trial - he's pretty sharp."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm being paranoid again. All I know is he glared at me at the train station and here. It sure looked like Wrenn had something against me. I just assumed he was protecting your very pretty sister from the notorious outlaw. Don't worry, Charlie. I only helped her with her luggage and her hat." Heyes winked at the dean.
Charlie White laughed. "I'm not worried. All it would take for Roy Wrenn to glare at a man is to have him try to take Professor Denker's place. Denker was a very nice man. Everyone loved him around here. He hasn't been gone long. Wrenn misses him like we all do. And yes, Roy does keep an eye on my sister."
Heyes stretched his stiff back. "Well, tell Roy I'm happily married and was just being nice to your sister. And you might tell your sister that, too."
The dean gave Heyes a questioning glance, then replied, "You can tell her yourself. I'll ask her to join us for dinner, if you don't mind. She's just back from town, as you know. I'm sure she'd rather not have to cook for me or herself."
Heyes smiled. "I'd be glad to have her along. She's real nice. And if you want to tell her my first name, that's fine as long as it doesn't go farther. If you hire me, then we can negotiate about how we want to break that news to the faculty, students, and the public."
The dean mounted the two steps to the wide front porch of the Inn with Heyes at his side. They went past the Adirondack chairs on the porch and through the creaking double front doors of the old, wooden building. "Alright, Joshua. See you in the Inn's dining room at 7:45, if that suits you. I'll go make the dinner reservation."
"Thanks, dean. See you then," said Heyes as the dean turned toward the door that evidently led into the dining room. Enticing scents announced delicious meals on offer. The ex-outlaw's stomach growled as he went to check in at the desk.
"Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?" asked the grey-haired clerk behind the desk.
"I have a room for tonight, reserved by Keuka College. My name is Joshua Heyes." Remembering his years of checking into hotels under false identities, it felt strange to the former outlaw to use this new version of his real name.
The clerk immediately smiled. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Heyes. We have a fine room for you – number 10. Here's the key. It's upstairs that way. Your luggage arrived some time ago. Will you be eating at the Inn?"
"Yes. Dean White is just making us a reservation. Could you please send up a hot bath for me, as soon as possible?" Heyes watched the clerk carefully, unsure if word of his past had gotten to the staff. The former outlaw thought not – there seemed no special curiosity at play here.
The clerk smiled. "Of course, Mr. Heyes. You'll have a bath ready very shortly. If you'll just sign the register."
The westerner took up the offered pen and signed, "H. Joshua Heyes." Then he made his way slowly up the stairs with their elegant turned wooden balusters. Something made him pause to look back at the desk. He expected the clerk to be watching a westerner by the name of Heyes with the first initial H, but it wasn't so. The clerk was busy with his books. Heyes finished climbing the stairs, thinking to himself that he really was being paranoid. It was a hard habit to break.
Heyes sat on the four-poster bed in his room and gladly pulled off his hot, sweaty boots. He wiggled his toes in delight. Crickets were chirping outside the open windows. It was a pleasant evening. Towels and lavender scented soap were already waiting for him. A strong boy came up lugging a tin tub. He was followed by a man with a big copper full of hot water. A few minutes later the man returned with more hot water. Heyes tipped both the man and the boy. As soon as the door of his room was closed, the weary westerner stripped off the rest of his clothes and lowered himself carefully into the hot bath. The steaming water felt luxurious on his sore muscles.
Heyes soaked for a while. He nearly fell asleep – it had been a long day already. He shook himself awake and stood up, then rinsed off with the copper of water that was still hot. He was careful not to get the floor wet. This was no rough, western hotel. The naked, dripping man stretched, reaching up with a long, slow gesture. Heyes stepped out of his tub and used the fluffy white towel to dry off. It was good to be clean. He dressed in a good suit, though not the one he had reserved for his interview tomorrow. That was hanging in the cabinet, letting its wrinkles relax. Joshua combed his damp hair back, straightened his tie, put on his glasses, and went whistling down the stairs. His bath had refreshed him. He was more than ready for dinner.
As he was passing the front desk, the clerk called, "Mr. Heyes!" The former outlaw started at hearing his name said so loudly. He hurried over to the desk. The clerk held out a piece of folded paper. "I have a message for you. Sounds like it's been relayed a few times, but here it is. I hope it's not too late."
Heyes went to lean against the flowered wall paper of the wall outside the dining room before he unfolded the paper. The note was from Dean Paulson of Harvard. All it said was, "Please call me. I'll be in my office until 8:00." The former outlaw sighed deeply. The brief, neutral words hinted at yet one more disappointment. He felt almost like he had in prison when the guards had kept striking the cheek where he was already cut and bleeding.
Heyes straightened up and walked toward the front desk, trying not to limp. He suddenly felt very tired. "Do you have a telephone I can use?"
"Yes, sir. $1.00 if you keep it to three minutes. There's an instrument through that door. Let me come and put the light on in the office for you."
Heyes pulled four quarters out of his pocket one at a time and paid the clerk. He hated to pay so much for what he was pretty sure would be bad news.
Standing in the circle of light from a little gas lamp in the hotel's cluttered office, Heyes picked up the hand piece. He leaned down to the mouth piece and asked Central to connect him with the dean of mathematics at Harvard. The call had to be connected a couple of times, then there was a familiar voice coming through the static. "Dean Paulson, Harvard."
"This is Joshua Heyes, Dean. What do you have to tell me?" The aspiring academic knew well that the walls of the office weren't thick enough to give him privacy, so he avoided giving his first name.
If Heyes had had any doubts that the news was bad, the dean's uncomfortable voice cleared that up. "Um, hello, Mr. Heyes. I'm sorry to say that another candidate has accepted the position of instructor of mathematics. I wish it were otherwise. Truly, we considered you over-qualified for this modest a post."
Heyes sounded as weary as he was. "Thank you for putting it so nicely, Dean. I suppose what you mean is that the publicity I would have attracted would have been more trouble to handle than that position is worth."
"Honestly, Mr. Heyes, I can't say your past wasn't in our thoughts." Paulson sounded relieved that his refused candidate was not more openly upset.
"Oh, well, it was a privilege to meet you and to be considered by so fine an institution. Thank you." The former outlaw began to put down the ear piece.
The dean's voice called out to Heyes and he put the earpiece back to his ear. "Don't go! I want to be sure you understand how we feel. When you have a little more academic experience, we would very much like to hear from you again for a higher position. You need not wait for a doctorate, though we would hope you obtain that qualification before long. It is our considered opinion, mine in particular but not only mine, that you will soon be researching and teaching at a top institution."
A faint smile played over Heyes' face, despite his disappointment. "Thank you! I do appreciate it. So, when the western roughness gets polished off a bit, you really think you might want me?" The retired outlaw sounded uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
The dean was encouraging, "I have no doubt of it. I understand you have another interview, which might be a better starting place for you. Please do let me know where you find a position."
"I'll be in touch. I just hope I wind up teaching anyplace rather than bookkeeping or saloon managing or mine engineering. Good evening, dean."
"Good luck, Mr. Heyes." The receiver clicked.
Heyes ran a hand through his hair, which was still too short for his taste. He took a few deep breaths, gathering himself to give a good impression even as his fears gained on him. He had to hide his fears. Now, Keuka was his only hope of a decent post in the fall. If this failed, he would be hard put to provide for Beth and the child on the way. What if Beth, being such an old first time mother, had medical problems? How would they afford doctors' bills? He could hardly stand the thought of borrowing even more money. But he would do what he had to do. And being able to take on Marvin seemed less and less likely. Heyes hated to face breaking his word to the boy. He worried how the young former pick-pocket might react to the disappointment of not having a place with the family that had been promised to him.
Heyes turned out the gas lamp and stood ready to go out into the lobby, but he heard familiar voices right outside the slightly opened door. So he paused. The outlaw's habit of covertly listening to conversations that could be useful to him was still deeply ingrained.
The voice of Jane White said, "Charlie, you're not joking? That nice man who saved my silly hat was once a desperate outlaw? A famous thief."
Charlie White answered very softly, "Yes, he was. He was granted amnesty only a few months ago. Keep your voice down, dear. I don't want him embarrassed. I want him teaching for us." Heyes smiled. To hear such confidence from a man who didn't know Heyes was listening was balm to his wounded ego.
"Was he fun to ride with? Was it like one of those western adventures we read about?" Janes asked gleefully, but softly.
Charlie White said, "Oh, yes. I could hardly believe it. Seeing him riding up to me in the woods – it was like a vision out of the old West." Heyes started at the expression. He had never heard the words old and West joined that way before. Was his day really that far gone? The dean continued, "I hardly recognized him. He seemed so different from the proper man in the suit I met on the train. Or, well, not proper, he was joking around. But he was dressed in a formal suit on the train, and wearing glasses. It was great to see him here with a gun on his hip and one of those western hats on his head – and a black one at that. The boys are going to love studying with him." Heyes sniffed to himself, feeling wounded. He had hoped that his mastery of mathematics might be more important to the dean than his famed past was.
Jane laughed musically. "The girls will enjoy him too, Charlie, trust me."
An unfamiliar voice said, "Dean White, Miss White, your table is waiting. When will Mr. Heyes join you?"
"He should be here soon. He's staying at the Inn." The voices faded as the Whites and their waiter went into the dining room.
When he was sure they were gone, Heyes emerged from his hiding place. As the Westerner approached the table where the Whites sat in the crowded dining room, he saw them both smiling welcomingly at him.
"Come, sit down, Mr. Heyes. You must be tired after gallivanting around the forest on horseback all day with my brother," said Jane brightly, gesturing to an empty chair at the candle-lit table.
"Yes, actually, I am tired. But we did have a good ride, Miss White," said Heyes as he sat down.
"You look so different in a suit and glasses. Very distinguished. My brother tells me that he expects young men to come from all over to study with you. I will add that he should expect some young ladies along with them." Jane's eyes sparkled with fun.
Heyes smiled at her, carefully not flirting back too much in front of her brother. "I'll be delighted if I get to teach them. Teaching poor young folks like I used to be would mean a great deal to me. I was afraid I'd have to give up beautiful places when I moved east. It certainly wouldn't be true here."
Charlie White grinned. "On behalf of the locals, thank you, Joshua. That's high praise from someone who's seen so many spectacular places."
Heyes nodded. "And I look forward to the good fishing, too. But right now, I just want to eat. What's the specialty here at the Inn?
Charlie White laughed. "Fresh caught trout, of course. And they cook the vegetables just right. And don't forget the fresh, hot biscuits."
"Hm! I can smell it all cooking," said Heyes. "That sounds like a fine meal to me. And here comes a waiter."
Soon three orders had been placed for trout and the waiter had gone back to the kitchen. "So, Miss White, your brother told you about my past?" Heyes kept his tone light, mocking himself.
Jane spoke softly as she glanced around to be sure her words would not be overheard. "Yes, Mr. Heyes. But don't worry – he told me to keep it quiet and I will. Not every woman chatters."
The former outlaw nodded at the young lady. "Thank you. I know people will have to find out eventually, but the longer we can keep that confidential, the easier it will be for me and my family."
Jane White looked sharply at the handsome westerner, immediately understanding that this handsome man was married. "Your family? Tell us about them, Mr. Heyes."
Heyes said, "Miss White, please do call me Joshua. I went to court to take that name - I like to have folks use it."
Jane White was pleased. "Why sure, Joshua, if you call me Jane. So tell us about your family, Joshua."
Heyes smiled at the memory. "It's a small family, so far. There's just me and my wife, Elizabeth. She's the lady who taught me to speak good English, have good table manners, and dream I could make something worthwhile out of an old shot-up outlaw."
Jane stared at Heyes. "You don't look old to me. And shot up?"
Heyes nodded. "You've been staring at my most obvious bullet scar since you met me at the train station – the one where a ricochet got me in the head. There are plenty more you can't see."
Jane asked, curiously, "Where did you get to study with Mrs. Heyes?"
Heyes was glad to tell the story. "At the clinic where I learned to talk and write again after that bullet got me in the head. I should tell you, dean, Mrs. Heyes and I have been asked by the state of Wyoming to foster a fourteen-year-old boy I met in prison. He's very bright, but he comes from a difficult background. He wants to go straight like my partner and I did. I very much want to take him on, if I can get a good post – like the one here."
The dean was clearly interested. "Oh? What kind of difficult background does he have, if I can ask? We take a special interest in such young people here, as you know. Lack of wealth or conventional family is no barrier to us."
"I know. Aside of all the other attractions you offer, that interests me more than anything else about Keuka College. I was orphaned and turned to crime to keep from starving. Marvin never really had a father and now he may have lost his mother, who was drunken prostitute. He was picking pockets when they arrested him and he hasn't had much schooling. But he's determined to do better, if only he can have someone to help him. He said he trusted me. That moved me, I have to confess." The former outlaw spoke earnestly.
The dean nodded. "He sounds very much like many of the young men and women we educate here. If Wyoming trusts you to take on young Marvin, and you want to do it, that tells me a great deal about you."
Before Heyes could answer, a tall man in a grey suit walked up to Dean White. Heyes looked up at the stranger, wondering how much the man had heard. The man in grey said, "Good evening, Charlie, Jane. Who's your friend?"
"Good evening, O'Hara," said the dean. "This is Joshua Heyes. He teaches mathematics. Joshua, this is Aidan O'Hara – he teaches English composition here at Keuka."
"Good to meet you, Heyes," said the lanky O'Hara. "So you're here about Denker's post?"
"Yes, Professor," answered Heyes, getting to his feet to shake the hand of a man who might soon be his colleague. "It must be hard on all of you to lose him."
"Yes, it is. He was a fine man. But if you want to come join us here, I can only wish you well. This is a place where I'm proud to teach, small and new as the school is. We do good work here and the students work very hard." There was no hesitation in O'Hara's deep voice.
"I don't doubt it," said the aspiring professor. "I'll be honored if I get to join you."
O'Hara smiled at that. "Well, I'd better go on and let you folks have dinner. Welcome to Keuka, Heyes!"
"Thanks, Professor O'Hara," said Heyes.
When O'Hara had left, Charlie White said in a low voice. "Sorry, Joshua. I didn't mean to let everyone on campus know you're here. But this really is the only decent spot to eat in the whole village, so you're bound to meet faculty here."
"I understand. I've spent a lot of time in little towns," said the former outlaw. But he was glad not to have to keep talking – the freshly grilled trout had just arrived and it smelled delicious. All three diners dug in gladly.
"So Jane, did you two move to Keuka Park when the school as founded," asked Heyes between bites of delicious trout.
Miss White spoke a bit hesitantly, "Actually, I just came this spring and started a degree in pedagogy and English. Cooking for Charlie isn't enough to keep me busy." Heyes was sure that something was worrying her, but he wasn't sure what it was.
"So, another academic in the family? Sounds familiar, since my wife and I both teach, or we want to. What kind of teaching do you want to do?" asked Heyes.
"Oh, nothing ambitious. If I can just teach in primary school, get children started right, I'll be happy," Jane said enthusiastically. "And when, or if, I have children of my own, I'll hope my schooling can help me to be a better mother."
"Tell me about the grade schools around here," said Joshua. He knew well that he had just revealed that the Heyes family might soon include more than himself, his wife, and Marvin Mosley. But no one pressed for particulars.
The conversation turned from schools to shopping, railroad lines, the weather, and other local concerns. The trio pointedly avoiding any further discussion of Heyes' past where they could so easily be overheard.
Just as they were finishing their plates of fish, rolls, and green beans, a waiter glided swiftly over to be table. "Mr. Heyes?" He enquired.
"Yes?" Answered Heyes uneasily, identifying himself in a way he would never have done before the amnesty.
The waiter spoke quietly, not wanting to violate his customer's privacy. "There's a telephone call for you, sir. If you'll come this way?"
"Of course. Pardon me, folks." Heyes gave the Whites a quick, self-conscious grin, but he couldn't hide his anxiety in a day when phone calls of any nature were so rare that they generally signaled emergencies. The Whites, too, looked concerned. They couldn't help but wonder what trouble might be going on in the potential professor's famously colorful life, though they wouldn't never dream of asking.
"Do you know who it is?" Heyes softly asked the waiter as they headed toward the same room where he had used the phone before.
The waiter looked curiously at Heyes. "It's a sheriff – the sheriff of Louisville, Colorado."
This didn't calm Heyes' fears at all. "Thank you."
"Here you are, sir," said the waiter, pointing at the telephone.
The retired outlaw nodded, but he waited for the man to leave before he spoke into the telephone. "Hello, Jed. Is everything alright?"
Jed's voice crackled. "It is here, Heyes. But I got something I need to tell you. The young Teasdales, last I hear, are headed south. Towards me. But they're riding in Deuel County Wyoming. They're on horseback now, but. . ."
Heyes interrupted his cousin, "You don't have to tell me, partner. That's a spot where the rail lines run east. Outlaws have been known to change modes of transportation. I'll watch my back. And Beth's. Thanks for letting me know."
Curry was apologetic. "Heyes, they're over 1,000 miles from you and Beth. They could be headed anywhere. I'm sure you're fine. But Cat wanted me to tell you. We didn't want to take any chances if maybe we couldn't reach you later."
Heyes said, "Sure. But you must have asked Beth where I was, otherwise you'd never have found me here at the inn. You didn't tell her about the T-dales, did you?"
There was a reluctant pause. "Um, yeah, I did."
Heyes was upset at once, "Jed! She's pregnant! Now she'll be all worried, and I'll worry about her."
The Kid knew the feeling. "Sorry. But I know Cat would've told her if I didn't."
Heyes sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Those women gang up on a fella. I just sure hope the Teasdales don't head for Beth instead of me."
Curry tried to calm his partner. "Yeah, Heyes. I'm sure they won't go after a woman. Or you, either."
Heyes said sharply, "You aren't sure or you wouldn't have called. Oh well, I'll be home long before they could get to New York. And then I hope we'll both be out of the big city pretty quick, headed back up here. I just wish somebody would put those guys away."
The Kid changed the subject. "Believe, I will if I can. But Beth told me about this place where you're going for a job. Keuka or whatever she said. So you really think they'll want you?"
Heyes tried not to sound too certain – it could bring bad luck. "I hope so."
Jed asked, "Do you like Keuka, now you're at the place?"
"I do, Jed. The dean is a real decent guy. They got the prettiest woods ever and great fishing. And it's not all that far from New York City – less than a day on the train. So kinda' the best of both worlds. But mostly, they believe in giving kids a chance, no matter how poor they are, or orphaned or what have you. No matter how hard luck they might have had, Keuka is willing to give them a chance."
Curry instantly knew what his partner meant. "So you'd get to teach poor boys like we were."
Heyes said, "Yeah. That's how I see it. And they do, too. I hope they'll give me a chance just like they will with students who are down on their luck. That's all I ask from anyone, Jed. Just a chance. Oh, Harvard said no. So it's down to Keuka or nobody."
"Ah, Heyes, that's too bad. If the folks at Keuka will just give you that chance, they won't be sorry. Good luck! Let me know when you got news." Curry ended the talk quickly, since telephone calls were expensive.
Heyes said, "I will. Thanks, Jed. I have't told Beth about Harvard. I'll wait till I've got what I surely do hope is good news from here. Give Cat a kiss for me. You gonna get that cast off any time soon?"
"Yeah. I'll get it off in a few days, start using a cane. I better go. It's getting to be dinner time. Take care, Heyes."
"Yeah, you too."
The two phones clicked.
Heyes again pulled himself together not to show how troubled he was. He had confidence in his acting ability. Sometimes his past at confidence work came in very handy in life outside of crime. It was an effort to put a happy smile back onto his face for people in the dining room to see.
"Are you ready for desert, Joshua?" asked Jane as Heyes returned to the table.
"They serve a great maple custard pie," urged Charlie White.
"Oh? That's not one I've had before," said Heyes.
"No wonder," said Charlie, "You probably wouldn't come across it out West or in New York City. But we harvest a lot of maple syrup around here."
Heyes grinned. "Sounds good. I'm always glad to try something new. "
"Good! You'll be doing that a lot if you come here. It's a lot different from where you've been before," said Jane. "I do hope Charlie and the board will hire you."
"Why, thank you," said Heyes. "That's right nice of you. That surely is what I'd like."
Miss White asked, "But do you think you'd miss your home out west, if you came here?"
"I suppose so. But I intend to keep busy enough for it not to be a problem. After all, Beth and I want to start a family and make our home here," said Heyes with a smile at both Charlie and Jane.
Something the former outlaw didn't understand made the dean turn quickly away and fall silent for a few moments. Jane covered for him. "I know you and Mrs. Heyes would be happy. It's a beautiful place with good faculty and staff. And you could get back to New York City and your friends there easily, as you know. It's just not that far. Rochester, our closest city, is a fine place. They've got some interesting businesses started up there, including making glasses and cameras."
The arrival of desert interrupted the conversation and let Charlie White recover himself. As they all started on their pie, Charlie said, "So, Joshua, are you all set for tomorrow?"
"All's in order, boss!" Said Heyes, with bright eyes showing his enthusiasm.
The dean smiled. "Boss. Sounds good, coming from you."
Jane asked, "Somehow, I don't think of you as having a boss, Joshua. Who did you call that, before?"
Heyes answered thoughtfully, "Mr. Levy at the factory office where I work now. A few gang leaders. Sometimes Charlie Homer. And for seven years, it's what men called me."
Jane ventured, "It must be hard, ordering, um, men like that around. Do they obey orders?"
Heyes nodded. "With me they pretty generally did, once I had proved what big hauls my plans brought in. And particularly after my partner came aboard. The toughest thing wasn't so much getting the boys to follow orders. It was coping with what happened afterward." Jane saw some of the brilliance fade from the former outlaw's eyes as he spoke.
She was a puzzled. "You mean being chased by the law?"
"More than chased. The worst was when a man was caught, or hurt – or killed – because he did exactly what I told him to do." The former outlaw's voice sounded flat and distant.
Charlie White didn't shy away from the hard question. He asked, "How did the other men react to that? Mutiny?"
Heyes voice was low. "No. My plans were safer than most. We lost very few, really, and killed none. Anyone in my old field was used to losing friends and knowing we could be on their heels any time. But still, it's never easy. Never."
"Sorry – I didn't mean to remind you of the harder parts of your past," said the dean, with pain evident in his own voice.
"That's alright. We've all had losses," added Heyes quietly. "It's hard for everybody."
White only nodded, unable to speak. Considering the dean's youth and that his sister cooked for him, it wasn't hard to guess who he had lost. Since his sister had come to live with Charlie White only a few months before, the loss had probably been very recent.
"Tell me about your students, Charlie," said Heyes, guessing what would make his host feel better as much as anything could. He was right. The dean was soon happily discussing promising young men and women who came from poor and unusual families.
When they had all finished their pieces of pie and the talk was dying away, Joshua kissed Jane's hand and bid farewell to both Whites. "I'm glad to have had the chance to visit, Jane. See you in the morning, Charlie. I hope the board is as welcoming as you and your sister have been," said Heyes.
"Good night, Joshua," said Jane. "Good luck!"
"Oh, he doesn't need luck, Jane, honey. Just the fair play we specialize in," said Charlie. "See you in the morning, Joshua." The dean tossed Hannibal Heyes a respectful salute.
"See you!" said Heyes. "And thank you, both. Good evening."
The former outlaw who hoped to teach watched as the dean and his sister left, walking slowly side by side through the street in the warm evening air. Heyes climbed the stairs to his room. He sat alone on the bed, staring into space. He suddenly missed Beth terribly.
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1,600 miles away, Kid Curry made his slow way into Christy's Place on his crutches and leaned on the bar. "Beer, Joe," said the weary sheriff.
"Here you go, boss," said the bar tender.
"Well, Bruce, honey. Been a long time, ain't it? You sure weren't wearing no badge last time we, um, met," said a whiskey-voiced, statuesque broad leaning on the bar next to Curry with a glass of whiskey in her hand.
"Well, Trixie, ain't that you?" Asked Curry with an amused smile. "Been a real long time. I ain't used Bruce in ages."
"I'm Lou-Lou these days, honey, whatever name you're using now. Took that on when I went red-head. We both know how it is. But you still look real fine. You want a tumble cut-rate for old times' sake?"
Curry laughed. "Thanks for the offer, Lou-Lou, but I don't think my wife would take kindly to it."
"Wife?! You have changed!" Lou-Lou turned to look at the handsome sheriff in surprise. "And what happened to your leg?"
Jed grinned and took a pull on his beer. "Yeah. Mrs. Curry and me run this place. I busted my leg catching a murderer a few weeks back."
Now the old whore was really taken aback. "Wait a minute, you really are a sheriff? I thought it was a con like you pulled in the old days. And you go by the name of Curry? Who the heck are you, anyway?"
Curry leaned on the bar and looked nostalgically at the woman who might have been the embodiment of his past. "I don't just go by Curry, I have to use my real name now that my partner and me got amnesty. My name's Jed. But you can't have a real hard time guessing what they used to call me. You've seen me draw, ain't you?"
The aging harlot stared openly at the man next to her. "Well, well, so I can tell folks I done laid Kid Curry? And Hannibal Heyes, too, if I remember right. Hm. Yeah. Where's he at these days?"
"Lou-Lou, you would not believe me if I told you," said the sheriff. "A long way from here." He finished his beer and set the mug down. "Bye-bye, honey. See you around. I got a pretty young wife waiting for me just back of that door over there."
Lou-Lou raised another whiskey. "Bye-bye, Kid. Good to see you after all these years. Say hi to your partner for me. And congratulate your wife. She got a good one."
Historical note - The Keuka Lake Inn is an invention. But the main building of Keuka College as described is based on a combination of recent and period photographs. I haven't been there, but I'm starting to hanker to make the trip. The industries of Rochester cited by Jane White are correct for the period.
