Beth Heyes and Polly Moore walked side by side on a busy sidewalk striped with long late afternoon shadows. They and thousands of other New Yorkers were heading home from work in the hot, sticky dog days of August. The tight corsets and long dresses demanded of polite women were miserable to wear in this weather. But the pair was looking forward to refreshment. Beth was carrying a basketful of fresh food and a bottle of cold lemonade from a deli down the street.

"What do you hear from Heyes, Beth?" asked Polly.

Mrs. Heyes said, "Nothing today, but I didn't expect to hear from him yet. The calls and telegrams get expensive. He's careful of our finances. He's waiting to contact me until he's sure of what Keuka College will say and maybe he's heard from Harvard, too. At least Keuka is paying for the travel and food."

"But you're hoping for Harvard, aren't you?" said Polly, slowing her pace to look into her friend's brown eyes.

Beth shook her head. She spoke earnestly. "No, I'm really not rooting for them more than any other place. I just want Heyes to have the work he deserves."

"But still . . ." Polly started.

Beth shook her head. "I've gotten to be near home and have a good, fulfilling position all these years. It's time for Heyes to be where he can do his own work and be happy while we start our family. He's just longing to be respected and taken seriously. He deserves it so much. I would be perfectly happy with Keuka, mostly because Heyes wants it very badly. I think he feels a special connection there."

Polly was surprised, "Oh? A connection with a place in upstate New York? He's never even been there until now."

Beth explained, "They teach a lot of orphans, and of course we are both orphans ourselves. So that means a lot.

But still, I wish Heyes could get an offer from a western school. If only Colorado could get the money to hire a real math professor instead of the adjuncts they've been settling for! It would be so perfect!"

Polly touched her friend's arm, offering wordless moral support.

As they approached the stairs up to Beth and Heyes' apartment, Beth looked gratefully at Polly. "I'm glad you could come and have dinner with me tonight. I get awfully lonesome when Heyes is away. It will be a treat to talk on our own time with no strangers or patients listening in."

"I'm happy to come," said the blonde receptionist. "I'll help do dishes so we can enjoy dong the chores, too."

The two friends laughed happily as they climbed the steps. They enjoyed almost anything they could do together. They knew their time together could not last much longer.

Mrs. Westmoreland, the grey-haired lady who owned the building, was just coming in with a shopping basket over her arm. "Good evening, Mrs. Heyes, Miss Moore. Is Mr. Heyes still away?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Beth. "He's at a little school in the Finger Lakes area called Keuka College, interviewing to be a professor. They lost their math professor to pneumonia just a few days ago."

"The school is lucky to be able to call upon Mr. Heyes to replace the professor they lost. I hope they will hire him, after all the disappointments he's suffered," said the grey-haired landlady. "Miss Moore, are you still stepping out with your young doctor?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Polly. "Wilmer is going to start a residency at Gouveneur Hospital this fall. We plan to be married in September."

"That's wonderful, Miss Moore!" said Mrs. Westmoreland with a bright smile. "Congratulations. I hope you and Dr. Peisner will be very happy. But I know Mrs. Heyes will miss working with you, if you leave when you marry."

"I will leave, yes," said Polly. "Dr. Peisner wants me at home. I know I'll miss Beth and everyone at the clinic."

"Mr. Heyes and I will be moving away one way or the other, as you know," said Beth. "I expect to be able to tell you our exact plans in the next few days."

Mrs. Westmoreland smiled warmly. "It's an exciting time for everyone. I wish you all the best. I'll miss you both. And it won't be the same when I don't have a famous, and very handsome, ex-outlaw making phone calls in my parlor at all hours of the day and night. It's nice to talk, but I must take my groceries in. I look forward to hearing good news from you soon." The landlady nodded to her renter and her renter's best friend and went to her own apartment.

"You're very lucky in your landlady, Beth," said Polly as they went up the stairs to the Heyes' place. "My landlord would never be that friendly or care about anything beyond the rent or making sure Wilmer doesn't go into my room and cause a scandal."

Beth shut the door behind herself and Polly. "Yes, she's been very nice to Heyes and me. Letting us use her telephone all the time and being patient about the rent sometimes. And putting up with having everyone know an outlaw and his wife rent from her. I don't know what we'd have done without Mrs. Westmoreland."

The two tired friends sat down in the tiny parlor. Polly said, "It's exciting to think of Heyes finally getting to be a professor, and your both getting to be parents. You're going to really happy, I just know it."

"Yes, but we also have a backup plan for if Keuka doesn't hire him." Beth admitted.

"Oh? You won't need another plan, of course. But what's the plan if you do?" Asked Polly.

Beth answered, "We'll go out to Colorado where Heyes can manage Christy's Place and I can teach at the University of Colorado's prep school. I haven't told Heyes, but I already called them and I know they want me. I just have to give them the final word if I'm coming or not. They'd let me teach this fall, since the baby isn't due until winter. They wouldn't like having an obviously pregnant teacher, as I will be before the end of the semester. But beggars can't be choosers and they've had a very hard time getting qualified faculty. Since Heyes has never learned to teach at that level, only at the college level, the prep school wouldn't want him – and I did ask. I have training at the prep level, and plenty of experience at the clinic. So they do want me. I would just fill in with some income until Heyes can get the post he deserves, or at least something that pays decently. If Jed and Cat buy a hotel without a saloon and take their business to a higher level, as they want to do, maybe they can pay Heyes enough to keep us. Or maybe at least for a while. If only it doesn't come to that."

Polly was helping her friend set the table. "Yes, I know Heyes would be fearfully disappointed if he couldn't teach soon."

Beth nodded. "He seems very sure about Keuka. If they don't come through and my poor husband can't start teaching, he would be heartbroken. I pray he can teach in the fall."

As they walked into the tiny kitchen, Polly said, "I pray for that, too, of course. I feel very lucky that Wilmer has work lined up at Gouveneur. Do Cat and Jed know your plans for teaching this fall, if you must?"

Beth nodded. "Cat knows. She hasn't told Jed; we both know that nothing on earth could stop him from telling Heyes. Those two are like brothers, as you know. I don't want to hurt my husband's pride if I don't have to. But the plan all along, if Heyes can't get a teaching position, has been for him to manage Christy's Place. It's just the part about my teaching that he doesn't know yet. You know how men are – they never want a pregnant woman to do anything practical. You'll find that out soon enough, with Wilmer, I imagine."

Polly smiled radiantly. "I hope so. We want children. I know Wilmer will make a wonderful father. Being a pediatrician, he'll be a natural at it."

"Of course, he will. And such a nice fellow. And you'll be a marvelous mother. I'm glad you finally decided you weren't going to marry a cowboy." Beth winked at her friend as they went into the kitchen to set put the food. "They must make wretched husbands, always wandering around and getting drunk whenever they have money. Or that's what Heyes says about them."

Polly giggled. "Yes, a doctor is much more practical. Certainly better paid. I wish he didn't have to work so hard, but I'm very proud of a fiancé who helps people. He's endlessly patient with all those sick children and their anxious parents. And he's glad to do some extra charity hours. It's one of the things I love about him. I know Heyes will be a wonderful father, too."

But Beth looked concerned. "I hope so, Polly. But if he has to face that awful rejection again, I worry. He's only human. He's under so much pressure, with the baby coming, and the amnesty conditions. He feels like the whole country knows he can't find the work he wants, the work he deserves. I know he'll get the job, or a job, someplace, but still . . ."

"You can count on Heyes, Elizabeth. You know you can," said her friend encouragingly. "He's been steady and true for years now."

There was a long pause as Beth and Polly put the food out. Finally, Beth said, "He has been amazingly true. But I do worry terribly. He's feeling more and more desperate about money. He will need to support the baby and me so very soon. And there's the pressure of knowing about all the loans he had to accept and still can't pay back. Oh, Polly, I'm terribly afraid he'll be tempted to turn back to crime if he doesn't get a teaching job."

"No, Beth! He wouldn't do that!" Polly hugged her friend.

Beth tried to tamp down her fears, "Of course not. I know that. He knows better. If he got caught stealing, that would be it for good. He'd be locked up for life with no chance of parole. Someone could even shoot him. Of course, I know he wouldn't steal again, really. He hasn't said a word about it. But I can't help thinking it must be in his mind as a terrible temptation. Money used to be so easy for him to get, dishonestly. But he's resisted the temptation for seven years, nearly eight."

Polly resolutely made herself sound cheerful, "Of course he has and he will keep on resisting. And that's enough grim talk for anyone. You've aired your fears more than enough. Hannibal Heyes is a strong, brave man and a brilliant teacher. He loves you and he'll support you. You're both going to be just fine and we all know it. Let's make dinner and talk about something fun and carefree. Like the kittens Jim found in the alley yesterday. Aren't they adorable?" The two friends laughed together.

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Kid Curry yawned in the afternoon heat as he swung along the main street of Louisville on his crutches.

"Hey, Sheriff!" came the cheery voice of a miner in his twenties who quickly walked up beside Curry. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks, Gus, feeling ready to get this cast off my leg, I can tell you. Doc says it won't be long. How are things down the coal mine?" The sheriff asked.

"Dark." Gus laughed. "Just like always. I got this afternoon off, so I came to town to wet my whistle. You want to get a drink with me?" Gus pushed a long, dirty blond lock out of his eyes. As always, the sheriff could see the black coal dust under his fingernails. The miners could never get rid of it.

"No, thanks, Gus. I got to get back to the office," said Curry regretfully as he leaned on his crutches. "Got a horse thief in there to watch and we never know what else might come up."

Gus asked the famous sheriff, "Don't you miss being free and easy? Doing as you pleased back when you was an outlaw?"

The sheriff considered this. "Well, sometimes I kind'a do miss being rich – for a day or two before we blew the cash." He chuckled and shook his head at his old self. "But I don't miss being wanted. You don't know what that's like. Running. Running all the time. Looking over your shoulder every minute. Never really could relax outside Devil's Hole. And even there we had to watch out for some of our own men."

"Yeah, I guess." The personable miner had only the vaguest idea of any life outside the dark mines and the local bars and dance halls where he spent his time. He looked curiously at the local celebrity for a moment. But then he said, "Well, see you later, Sheriff. I'm thirsty." Gus turned and sauntered toward the Red Devil saloon.

"See you, Gus," said Curry. "Keep a sharp eye out when you're down those dark holes with all the dynamite and poisonous gasses."

"Oh, we know what we're doing. And we watch out for each other, Sheriff," said Gus looking over his shoulder through the bat-winged doors with a grin that showed his uneven teeth, "don't you worry."

As Curry continued down the street and boosted himself up on to the board walk, Mrs. Glover looked out of her dry goods store at him. "Good afternoon, Sheriff. You keep such a fine eye out for all of us here in Louisville, Sheriff. We do appreciate it."

The curly-haired sheriff doffed his brown cowboy hat. "Our pleasure, Ma'am. I hope things are good with the store."

The lady storekeeper bushed an imaginary bit of dust from her crisp white apron. "Yes, thank you. We're thriving. But we wouldn't be if you hadn't stopped that robbery. Lori really admires Deputy Healy since then. It's very understandable. Such a fine looking fellow, and heroic, too."

"I don't know about heroic, but he works hard," admitted Curry. He added awkwardly, "Lori seems like a nice girl."

"I'd miss her if she left," said Lori's boss with a shy smile, "but let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Well, I gotta go." Curry nodded to Mrs. Glover and went on his way.

Curry swung down the board walk that ran in front of the businesses in town. He got to his own office door and yawned again. It was hard to do night duty and then stay awake on long, hot summer afternoons.

The sheriff shouldered open the door and began to limp through it.

Curry heard a horribly familiar loud click and stopped stock still as the door banged closed behind him. A lightning-fast glance around the office disclosed Al Kelly lying still, face down on the floor near the door to the back room where the cells were; a strange black man crouched over him with a rifle reversed in his hands; Billy Healy standing by his desk with his hands up and a look of terror on his face; and a red-haired stranger standing angrily near the front door wearing a sheriff's badge and holding a pistol. It was from that pistol that the click had come as the fake sheriff cocked his weapon and trained it on Jed Curry's heart.

There was no time for thought, only for action. Curry met the eyes of his lone deputy who was still standing. The sheriff hope desperately that Billy could guess what his boss needed him to do and to do right now. Heyes would have known instantly; would Billy Healy?

"Watch out!" yelled Healy; simultaneously he leapt toward the man by the door, who turned his gun to this more pressing new target.

Curry took the bravely offered chance as all eyes turned towards Healy. The sheriff dropped his crutches. Three shots banged loudly. Two men yelled and four fell to the floor. There was silence for a moment except for the muffled shout from the cells as the locked up horse thief cried, "What the hell's going on out there?"

"Why'd you take your eyes off him, Butch? That's Kid Curry! He got off two shots to your one!" Growled the criminal near the back door as he sat on the red-spattered floor and tried in vain to staunch the blood flowing from his shoulder. The empty rifle lay on the floor near him. Nearby, Al Kelly moaned and began to sit up, rubbing his sore head.

By the front door of the sheriff's office, the red-headed man in the fake badge sat whimpering and holding his wrist above his bleeding right hand. His pistol lay nearby, unheeded. Kid Curry sat on the floor with his cast extended in front of him and his Colt still trained steadily on the attempted jail breaker nearest him.

"Good work, Billy. You alright?" Asked the Sheriff gently without looking away from the nearer of the two criminals he had shot. "Did he hit you?"

"I'm fine," said Billy, panting to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him when his dive ended on the hard wood floor. "He missed me by a foot." The black-haired deputy moaned softly as he bent to pick up the fallen pistol and climbed to his feet. "You alright, boss?"

"Fine and dandy, if Al's alright," answered the fallen sheriff. Healy offered to help his boss up, but for the moment Curry shook his head. He was steadier seated on the floor than he would be standing.

"Ugh. Guess I will be fine, boss," groaned the blond deputy getting up awkwardly. "Sorry I let that bastard hit me over the head with one of our own rifles. That guy in the badge had us thinking he was a sheriff bringing in a thief. This guy grabbed the rifle I was cleaning so fast I couldn't draw on him."

Kelly drew his gun and fiercely addressed the burly black man who had hit him. "On your feet, boy. Hands up."

"I need a doctor!" The criminal griped defiantly as he continued to sit on the floor.

"He can see you in your cell. Get up!" the deputy shot back angrily.

"I can't!" Complained the fallen criminal holding his bleeding shoulder. "You got to help me." He said tauntingly.

"Hah! So you can get me down and get my gun? No chance, boy," growled Al Kelly. "Up!"

"Help him, Billy," Curry ordered. "I got this one in my sights. But don't drag your feet."

Billy moved quickly. When the two injured criminals were safely relieved of their belts and locked in their cells, the two deputies sat at their desks. "On your feet, Al, if you're up to it," commanded Jed Curry from his own chair. "Go get Doc Grauer for those men and yourself. I'm betting they're the guys who took that mine payroll a day's ride north of here yesterday. They match that description we got – black man and two white men, one with red hair. Our horse thief was probably just trying to get them fresh horses on the quiet from the livery stable last night."

The sheriff's voice dropped, but there was a fierce edge to the soft words. "And Al, there ain't no cause to call a man a boy just 'cause he can't fight back. A man you arrest is still a man, black or white, guilty or innocent. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir. But he sassed me," the aggrieved Al pointed out.

Curry knew the prisoner's point of view all too well. "Well, sure he did. He couldn't do nothing else to you. He's caught and hurt, and his friends can't do nothing. A man hates being helpless. You don't have to be as bad as he is. Just go get the doctor."

Al, still annoyed, stalked out the door.

With his fellow deputy away, Billy shyly walked up to ask his boss, "Uh, Sheriff, how'd you do that?"

"Do what?" asked Kid Curry, unaware that he had done anything unusual. He was using a hunting knife to clean his nails.

Billy said, "You know. Come through that door, figure out what was going on, and shoot those guys before they knew what to do. Didn't take you two seconds. And you're on crutches."

Curry shrugged. "It don't take a genius to spot a jail break. I've been on the other side a fair few times. And been sprung by Heyes now and then. Though he didn't need a gun or a badge – just his mouth and maybe a lock pick. Well, he did use a badge once, come to think of it. Made it himself, too."

Billy was intrigued. And impressed. "But you musta' been surprised, boss. How's you react so fast?"

Curry looked up. "Yeah. But I guess I'm used to it. Don't bother me to draw, any time. And you helped with that yell. You figured stuff out pretty quick yourself."

"Not as quick as Heyes would have, I guess," volunteered Healy, fishing for more of a complement.

"Not quite," admitted the Kid laconically, "but not bad." With that faint praise, Billy had to be content.

When the aging doctor was through patching up the men Curry had shot, and looking over both deputies, he sat down by the sheriff's desk. "Well, Jed, you never get much rest, do you? When that baby comes, you'll find out what lack of rest really is." The doctor chuckled at the uneasy look in the sheriff's blue eyes. Then he grew more serious. "But right now, how are you? Billy says you went down hard."

Curry shook his head. "Not real hard. Guess I'm learning how to fall in that damn cast."

"Now, Jed, this is me. You have to be at least bruised." The doctor studied his battered patient.

The sheriff shrugged. "Well, yeah, I got bruised, but only where I got some padding. I didn't crack my whatever-it-is back there again – I'd know that."

"Yeah, a cracked coccyx is not a sensation a man could forget easily, is it?" smiled the doctor. "I'm glad it's not worse. But if anything new, or old, starts hurting, you let me know. That baby on the way needs a well daddy."

"You sound like my wife," grouched Curry.

"Don't come crying to me," said the doctor, "I'm on her side."

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That evening, the sheriff leaned wearily on the bar at his own establishment. "Whiskey, Joe," he said.

"Here you go, boss," said the stout bar tender. "Tough day at the office? Been a long time since I poured out a Kessler's for you."

Curry took a sip and said, "Not too bad, but there was a close one." Seeing no strangers close enough to hear him, he added quietly, "Had to shoot a couple of guys trying to spring a friend. Didn't kill 'em, but still, you know. I've sprung a few friends, myself. Sometimes it was Heyes."

He stout bar tender observe, "Being sheriff seems like more than enough to keep you busy. Mrs. C says you folks might be willing to sell out this place. She even gave me a figure."

Curry set down his glass. "Yeah. We got plans. You and Ted ready to meet our price?"

Big Joe made a gesture to pour another whiskey for his boss, but the sheriff waved it off. The bartender said, "Well, you know how it goes. We made our own offer. I'm waiting to hear back – I know you and your wife will want to talk it over."

The co-owner of the Christy's Place said, "Yeah. Guess I better go talk to the Mrs. We'll get back to you soon, Joe."

Joe nodded. "Yeah, Jed. And give your partner my best when you talk to him on that telephone at your office, alright?"

The blond ex-outlaw slid his glass back to the bartender. "You bet. Ought to hear something from him soon. Maybe tomorrow. Ought to hear something."

As Curry stepped into the back room, his wife embraced him gladly. "Jed, I'm real glad you weren't hurt today. Billy said you were a regular hero, again."

"Just doing my job," said the sheriff modestly. But he enjoyed the hug, and a kiss as well.

Jed and Cat had a quiet dinner. It started with a discussion of numbers. When they had had a long talk about the latest offer Ted and Joe had made for Christy's Place, Curry kissed his wife. He said, "I wish we had Heyes here to help us manage all this with offers and counter offers, loans, interest and all that stuff."

Cat touched her husband's hand "We can handle it, Jed. We have a good banker."

Curry talked through another bite of steak. "Yeah, but I trust Heyes more than any banker. I know he won't cheat us."

Cat and Jed looked at each other. Realizing what Jed had just said about the infamous Hannibal Heyes, they started to laugh. The trust was true enough, but who else would ever believe it?

Historical note – The University of Colorado really did have a preparatory school in the 1890s to help western students with difficult backgrounds to get their schooling up to college level. I don't know if they accepted women teachers, much less pregnant woman teachers.