"Good afternoon, Reverend Packer," said Sheriff Curry, favoring his recovering leg as he scrambled to his feet. "What can I do for you?" Deputy Healy also got to his feet and tipped his hat before turning his eyes expectantly back to the front door.

The lanky, grey-haired minister who had just entered the sheriff's office struck a match on the wall and lit his pipe before he answered, while the fidgeting sheriff did not hide his impatience. Finally, the minister said, "Good afternoon, sheriff, I'm here to do what I can for that troubled young man you have in a cell." With his smoking corn cob pipe, the reverend gestured to the back of the office where the door led to the cells.

Curry frowned, "Oh – Cody Laurence. The Green River Kid, they call him."

"Yes, that's the one. May I see him?" The reverend spoke with such authority that it seemed more like a statement than a question.

The sheriff said, "Yeah, sure. But there's gonna be some officers here from Wyoming pretty soon to take him north. We ain't starving him or mistreating him. Fact is, the docs are watching over him like a couple of mother hens."

"It isn't his body I'm concerned with, despite what you did to it," the reverend shot the sheriff an accusing glare. "I attempted to see him when he was staying with Doctor Grauer. The boy refused me, more than once. I want to try again before he leaves. That young man is in dire need of spiritual guidance."

The Kid had not considered the situation from a spiritual point of view. "Oh. I guess he must be – he made his living shooting folks, after all. Don't you think it might be too late to save him?"

The reverend looked out from under his furry grey eyebrows. "Didn't you make your living in the same manner, in your time? It wasn't too late for you, was it?"

"I hope not, Reverend. But I didn't make my living shooting guys. I made my living scaring the c . . ." Curry amended his wording to avoid cursing in front of a minister, "scaring guys who thought I was going to shoot them." The lawman's blue eyes sparkled for a moment. But when Curry saw the reverend's steely-eyed reaction, he turned serious again.

The minister replied in a hard voice, "I see. Well, I want to try my luck with your prisoner."

Curry leaned on his cane as he walked toward the back door into the holding area. "Alright. He's feeling better – making more trouble, that is. I'll be glad if you can settle him down some before the marshals get here to take him away. But Reverend, when he has to go, he has to go." Curry gave the man of God a firm warning look. Packer nodded. He understood that his time to do this spiritual work was limited.

Curry opened the door to the cells and called through it, "Al, the Kid has a visitor. Reverend Packer is here. They can talk through the bars."

"Alright, boss!" cried Al Kelly.

Sheriff Curry turned back to his clerical visitor. "Go on back, Reverend. Good luck. My deputy's watching Laurence, so you'll be safe. But stay away from those bars – he wouldn't mind having you for a hostage."

"I'm not worried about my own safety," said the Reverend as he went through the door. "It's that boy's soul that troubles me."

As the reverend did his work in the back, Curry limped stiffly up and down his office, checking the locked rifle rack, the custody paperwork, his own carefully oiled weapon, and every other detail he could think of.

"We checked it all already, boss. We're fine," pleaded Healy at last. "We all know the plan." He pulled his pocket watch out on its leather thong and looked at it – he couldn't afford a watch chain. "Wish the train would get in, and those guys from Wyoming with it."

"Yeah," said Curry as he settled back into his desk chair. "I know."

In addition to having Al in the back with the prisoner and Billy in the front office, the sheriff had borrowed extra professional men from nearby jurisdictions. They were stationed on Front Street where the train station and the jail were, alongside a good dozen saloons. He also had men in the back alley and on Pine Street where it intersected Front Street, since Pine led to Main Street and the rest of town. There was even a man on Main Street, where the balcony of Ross's Hotel gave him a good vantage point to defend the women, men, and families who frequented that polite street where the Currys would now be doing business.

"Boy, what a time for the reverend to show up!" exclaimed Healy softly, so his voice couldn't carry to the back room.

"Yeah," agreed his boss, sighing, "But I couldn't say no to him. He's been pretty decent to Cat and me. He knows he don't have long to try to save that soul. Or much chance. But that's his job, just like keeping this town safe is ours." He didn't say that he hated to have his wife left alone right now, while Heyes, Beth, and Charlie went to the university, but he couldn't keep from thinking about it.

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Once Cat, Beth, and Charlie got back to the Curry house in the wagon loaded with goods they had bought in town, Charlie helped the ladies down. "Woops-a-daisy, down you get, Cat. Now you, Beth."

Then Cat started putting things away in her new house. Despite her advancing pregnancy she refused any help with any but the heaviest items. "I can put a tin of cinnamon on a shelf, Professor!" She insisted. "And it goes on this shelf, not that one. This is my kitchen and I'm still getting it settled. If you want to be useful, you can lug in that sack of flour and put it in that bin, and I'd be obliged."

Charlie stifled a smile and did as he was told.

Meanwhile, Beth was carrying in a pen, ink, pencils, and paper for her husband and putting them away in the guest room.

When Professor Homer was done helping the women, he accepted a glass of cool water from the well. He drained it and put it on the new wooden counter in the kitchen. He asked his hostess, "Are you sure you want to stay here alone while Beth and I drive over to Boulder?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Professor," said the former saloon proprietress. "I can look after myself for a few hours. You're a lot more likely to run onto bandits than I am and I really doubt you'll see any. Keep your pistol handy, but we do have good lawmen around here." She winked at Charlie. That fetched a laugh from all three. "Jed said he'd send a deputy to look in on our place, and the other houses out on this end of town, once they get that gunman in the cage dispatched to Wyoming. So don't you two worry. Go have a good time meeting the folks at the school, Beth. Enjoy visiting campus, Charlie. To tell you the truth, Junior and I want to take a nap." She yawned and gently patted her swelling belly.

"Well, in that case, I won't feel so bad about leaving you," said Charlie. "Just keep the door locked and don't let anybody in unless you know them." Cat rolled her eyes as the professor put his bowler hat back on and went out to hitch up the horses again. They hadn't had much rest since their trip into Louisville and back out again, but their earlier drives had been short – only about a mile each way. Now they would be going farther.

Charlie helped Beth into the wagon and waved to Cat. He clucked to the horses and headed up the road to the northwest. The ever present mountains loomed in the distance. The closest line of peaks, the Flatirons, was made up of rough, brown and tree-grown slanted slabs of rock; the farther off lines of lofty Rockies were grey and topped with patches of snow even in midsummer.

"I hope your health is good this fall. I'm guessing teaching prep school for a bunch of green miners and cowboys is gonna be tiring," said Charlie loudly over the rattle of the wagon as they started out under a brilliant blue sky blazing with sun. The horses walked easily.

"I feel great so far, Professor," said Beth, touching her abdomen self-consciously. To people who knew her, she just barely starting to show her coming child. "And you know how I love teaching – even fractious westerners."

"Especially retired outlaws," laughed Charlie.

Beth laughed with him. "Well, really cute ones, anyway. I know I'm rather old to be having a first child, but I haven't been aware of any problems. And we need the money from my one semester teaching. Who knows – maybe knowing and trusting me when I'm teaching for the prep school will help the University of Colorado to trust Heyes to teach for the university proper."

"We can only hope," said Charlie Homer. "Does Heyes know you're following him over to Boulder?"

Beth looked at the wildflowers beside the road admiringly. "Yes, of course. He knows I need to get started, just as he does. I do hope he can convince the university to at least let him tutor or something. I know he'll be busy and couldn't take on many students, between what might be two other jobs if that mine manager agrees to let him do some consulting about the engineering. But it would break his heart to be out of academia entirely."

"Especially when you're still involved with it," said Charlie sagely.

"Yes," said the veteran teacher, painfully aware of the difficult emotional side of their financial situation.

There was pause in the conversation while the wagon rattled over the dirt road. A man on horseback trotted by and tipped his bowler hat to Beth before he passed them going toward Boulder.

When the stranger was gone, Charlie Homer spoke again. "Beth, this is the first time Heyes has been out on his own since. . ."

Mrs. Heyes nodded. "I know. There are bound to be plenty of saloons in Boulder. But, honestly, if we can't trust him on his own for a few hours at a time, I don't know what we'll do. None of our plans can work if we can't trust Heyes. And he knows it. I think we have to at least give him the chance to prove that he can stay on the straight and narrow without a keeper looking over his shoulder. If he thinks we really don't trust him, it could destroy his confidence completely."

Charlie nodded. "Considering what the Kid told me about when Heyes fell off the wagon years back, it's amazing how rapidly he's has come along getting off the drink this time. Of course, he wasn't off the wagon for long this time. So that makes it easier. But still, I think his progress is mostly a tribute to how much he wants to teach and start a new life with you. And how much he loves you, Beth. I think he'll be fine. Honestly, I do." Charlie took his right hand off the reins for a moment and touched his former student's hand tenderly.

Beth looked fondly at her mentor. "I hope you're right. If he went wrong now, it would be a disaster."

Charlie urged the horses into a trot for while, so it was too noisy to talk. When they dropped back to a walk, Beth asked, "Do you know the way to the main University building in Boulder?"

Charlie answered, "Yes, I think I should be able to find it. I know things have changed since I was there a few years back, but it's a pretty distinctive building. So the prep school is still in the same building with the rest of the University?"

Beth smiled. "Yes, so Mr. Jordan told me. I suppose it could get a bit awkward teaching in the same building with my husband – trying not to distract each other. Or scandalize the faculty – you know how affectionate Heyes gets. But it would be nice to see him now and then during the day."

Charlie chuckled. "Yes, I guess. Just so long as he doesn't think you're checking up on him – today, I mean."

Bet wasn't worried. "No, he knows I need to go get started at school – do starting paperwork, meet the staff. I hope he'll be doing the same, soon, someplace. It's just wrong for no school to let him do what he's so brilliant at. And what the world needs so much."

"Amen," said Charlie.

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Heyes pulled his horse, Clay, down from a lope to a walk as they neared the Flatirons and the outskirts of Boulder. The former outlaw had been riding northwest from Louisville, diagonally toward the lines of mountains. He looked up at the towering peaks that seemed close enough to touch.

Heyes couldn't help remembering when he and the Kid had ridden for their lives from a posse in the Flatirons six years before. Heyes had no memory of the terrifying ride the Kid had made on his horse, Blackie, with Clay leading the way out of the mountains and onto the plains. The unconscious Heyes had been tied into the saddle in front of his partner. Heyes had nearly died after a bullet had ricocheted from the rocks and hit him in the head. All things considered, Clay had done mighty well in leading them. A little to the north, and they would have hit Boulder. A little to the south, and they would have hit Denver. Either one would have been disastrous if anyone had recognized the two outlawed men. Heyes and the Kid had been very lucky, indeed, to wind up in Louisville where they had found care, companionship, relative security, and, in the end, a home.

Now he turned his tall claybank dun gelding a bit more to the left, west, into Boulder, Colorado. This was a town Heyes had generally avoided since he and his partner had come to Louisville. A bigger town meant more people and more chances for someone to recognize them after the robberies they and the Devil's Hole Gang had pulled off in Denver and the area not long before going straight. Heyes had visited the University of Colorado once before, a few years previously, with Beth. They had both been curious about the relatively young university. Now the aspiring professor rode into town on his own. He just hoped he wouldn't meet anyone he knew from his days as an outlaw – and especially that he would not meet any lawmen.

But as soon as he began passing false-fronted business buildings, Heyes knew his hopes were in vain. He saw a tall man riding a striking pinto far down the street coming toward him. Something tightened in the former outlaw's gut instinctively, though Heyes couldn't yet see the man's backlit face. He wasn't sure where he knew the man from, but wherever it was, it wasn't good. As the rider approached on the far side of the road, Heyes caught sight of a round badge with a star in the center. It was emblazoned with the word Marshal. And the face with a black mustache was bitterly familiar. This was one of the four western marshals who had arrested Heyes in Central Park only a few months before. None of them had been very nice about it.

Heyes considered trying to escape the marshal's attention, but even on this street crowded with horses and wagons, it was too late for that. And besides, there was no legitimate reason for him to avoid the lawman. The former leader of the Devil's Hole Gang might still be famous, but he was not wanted any longer. However, he was fairly sure this would not be a pleasant meeting. He didn't like marshals and they didn't like him.

Instead of slinking away, H. Joshua Heyes took the initiative. He rode toward the lawman. He tipped his bowler hat. "Howdy, Marshal Stone. How are you?"

The two riders put their horses into step side by side, the marshal turning to go west with Heyes. The tall lawman touched his Stetson hat and looked appraisingly at the man he had last seen in Wyoming in chains in a courtroom. "Howdy Heyes. I'd heard you were in the state. You checked in at Louisville yesterday. What are your plans?"

It was an intrusive question from a relative stranger, especially since it was obviously based on what must have been an official report from the amnestied man's own partner. But it was understandable that the marshal would want to ask about a major former criminal in his state, Heyes supposed. And the lawman was polite enough in his manner. So the former thief spoke respectfully. "My wife and I have moved to Louisville. I'll be managing the hotel my partner just bought and Mrs. Heyes is going to teach at the University's prep school."

"I hope it all goes well." The marshal's voice fell so he was unlikely to be overheard, "Just stay on the right side of the law, will you?" There was a humorous sound to the plea accompanied by the brief hint of a smile. It seemed to Heyes that the marshal might actually be embarrassed about their previous meetings. After all, the former outlaw now had amnesty signed by the marshal's superior, the governor of Colorado.

Heyes kept his tone light. "You can bet I'll stay straight, Marshal. Three days inside was more than enough for me."

"What brings you over here to Boulder?" Marshal Stone asked as he and Heyes continued riding west side by side.

Heyes paused. If the university turned down his offer, it would be embarrassing to have people know he had been refused academic work even as a volunteer. But lying wouldn't help him, either. The truth would come out soon enough. So he tried to find a middle way – honest, but not too complete. "I'm gonna visit the University of Colorado. They don't have money for more faculty now, but maybe they'll want to hire me one day. Or maybe not. Anyhow, I want them to know I'm here and qualified."

As the two men rode side by side, Marshal Stone studied Heyes, as if judging how truthful he was being. The lawmen said, "Good luck, Heyes. See you around."

"Thanks, Marshal!" added the newly amnestied man softly, in a surprised tone.

"Hey, the better you do honestly, the less chance I'll ever have to chain you up again, or try to," said the marshal with a grin that seemed incongruous on his hard face. He turned his pinto sharply and rode away, leaving Heyes to wonder about the attitudes other local lawmen might take.

Heyes rode west across town at a jog trot towards the University. Hearing the raucous sounds of a saloon, he slowed his horse to a talk and turned furtively to look at it. Seeing a man being thrown out the bat-wing doors, the former outlaw stiffened his resolve and rode on toward the University. He easily found the three-story, red brick Main building with its rusticated stone base. The tall structure could be seen from far off in this wide open country outside the densely built streets of town. The main building had a stylish tower with a fancy mansard roof over the front entrance and a flat topped tower over the rear entrance. To Heyes, it seemed as if this building, the tallest on the young campus at the foot of the Flatirons, was trying very hard to impress. Clearly, they were striving to establish a brave citadel of civilization in the western wilds. It was almost laughably dwarfed by the majestic mountains looming so close.

When Heyes had visited two years before, the main building had stood nearly alone, with only a couple of little houses for the students nearby and the beginnings of the Medical school farther away. There had been trees planted to break the persistent wind, but they were had been slender and young.

Now, the earthmoving activity he had seen in progress before had resulted in a new manmade lake not far from the front of the Main building. There were new buildings that looked like residence halls or teaching halls on the formerly bare plain outside town as new paths and roads had been added. Most noticeable was a large, elegant gold and brown stone structure that stood near the main building. The trees Heyes had seen before were growing taller and more had been planted. Despite the harsh climate, they were healthy. He supposed they must be getting attentive care.

The aspiring professor was glad to see the changes. It signaled that this was an up and coming institution, despite a currently tight budget. They were growing and might well have money for more faculty soon – such as a real math professor instead of mere adjuncts.

Heyes dismounted and led his horse down to the lake. Clay dropped his head and sucked in some water. He looked up alertly, chin dripping, as a rider went past.

"Don't slobber on me, boy," laughed his rider, pushing the horse away good naturedly.

From this angle Heyes could see a couple of horses staked out on the lawn behind the Main building. So he led Clay down the way and across the path, then around to the back of the dignified structure and staked him out under a tree a safe distance from the other horses. The horses already there looked up from their grazing to size up the strange animal. Clay snorted and held his head high. His rider knew he would shortly get the same kind of scrutiny. Heyes pulled a thick leather folder out of his saddle bags and tucked it under his arm.

He hesitated. Should he go in the back entrance or the front entrance? Both had high porches that seemed designed to be intimidating. There was also a side porch with its own door. He supposed there was no reason not to go in the front door, no matter how tentative he felt about this errand. There was nothing to be gained by a stealthy entrance. So the former outlaw straightened his bowler hat and string tie, adjusted his wire rimmed glasses, brushed some dust off his pants, and walked around to the front entrance.

The stone steps to the formal front door were precipitous. Heyes thought how treacherous those steps would be in the ice and snow of a Colorado winter. He felt for whoever had to clear the walks and steps here. He just hoped the man did a good job.

The double doors at the top of the stops made a tall Gothic arch surrounded by a fancy stone frame with a shield at the top. He supposed it was fashionable, though it looked a bit pretentious. Still, the place had spirit and character. Heyes turned to see the view of the Flatirons from the steps; it was spectacular. Heyes had worried that the academic life might take him away from the western landscapes he loved. If he ever taught here, he would have the Rockies at his doorstep.

Past the entryway, there was a long staircase leading up to the second floor. The steep wooden baluster made him smile – he could just imagine himself as a boy sliding down it with cries of glee, with an angry teacher hot on his heels. Heyes stared up the stairs. He wasn't totally sure who he was looking for, much less where that authority figure might be. As he stood, wondering, a young man in working clothes came in the front door behind Heyes with his cowboy hat in his hand.

"Howdy," the blond newcomer said, "You look lost, Mister. Can I help you out?"

Heyes answered, "Thanks. I want to talk to the dean or whoever is in charge here this time of year."

"Dean Sargent, the new man, he's away right now," said the young man. "But President Hale is here. He asked me to come see him."

"Good. Where's his office?" asked Heyes.

"Right back this way. You want to study here?" asked the young man as he started down the first floor hall.

"I'd like to teach math, but it's too late to apply for this year. Or for the fall semester, anyhow," said Joshua. "But maybe later."

"Good luck to you!" said the young man with the cowboy hat cheerfully. They paused as they reached the wooden door with neat black lettering on it reading "President Horace Hale." The man with the appointment knocked.

"Come on in," called a cheerful voice. Heyes followed his new acquaintance in to a small outer office where a neat man in glasses sat behind a desk. "Howdy, Johnny. Who's your friend?"

"Why, I don't know his name yet," said Johnny turning to look at the stranger standing behind him.

"My name's Heyes, Joshua Heyes. I'd like to talk with the president when Johnny's done, if the president doesn't mind."

"Talk to him about what, if I may ask? Did he know you were coming?" The secretary glanced down at the calendar on his desk. "I don't see you listed, but sometimes he forgets to tell me." The secretary looked at Heyes curiously but not hostilely. The retired outlaw wondered if his real identity might be out, due to all the newspaper coverage about his murder trial. He noticed that a plaque on the secretary's desk gave his name as Howe.

"No, I wasn't able to call earlier, Mr. Howe. I can come back another day if President Hale is not available today. I just wondered if he might be interested in someone to tutor mathematics or physics. I brought my CV." He handed the secretary a thick stack of papers.

Heyes saw the secretary's eyebrows rise just a trifle. Ah, perhaps math tutoring was a real need on this campus. "I'll speak to President Hale, Mr. Heyes. Can you wait a moment, Johnny? I wouldn't want this gentleman to have to wait through your whole appointment for nothing."

"Sure," said the young man genially. "I can wait." He sat down in an armchair and put his booted feet up on an ottoman. Johnny sighed with relief as the secretary went into his boss's office carrying Heyes' papers.

"You don't sound real eager to see the president too soon," observed Heyes as he settled into another armchair.

"He's a good man, but he's a big cheese. I'm just a hand here, since I signed on in June," said Johnny nervously.

"Oh? What kind of work do you do?" asked a man who had done a wide variety of odd jobs himself.

"I hitch up the wagon and drive supplies in from town. I cut wood, rake leaves, dig ditches, curry the president's horse. This winter, I'll be clearing snow. That kind of stuff. What do you suppose the head guy wants with somebody like me?"

"Don't you know?" the man newly arrived from New York sensed that this might be an interesting story that would reveal much about this school.

Johnny squirmed with his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I think so. He's been givin' me books and stuff to read, this summer. Plays, history, math."

"Do you read them? Like them?" Heyes asked.

The young laborer was profoundly uncomfortable. "Yeah, sure. I'm grateful to President Hale. I like the books. I like to learn. I know he wants me to take a class or something. But what's the use? My folks were dirt farmers. I just went to grade school a few years, never finished."

"Where was that?" Asked Heyes, interested to learn more about the president's protégé.

But Johnny didn't sound keen to talk a lot about himself. "Just east of here, a farm in the middle of no place, Colorado."

Heyes tried to opened him up more. "So you pa's a farmer?"

"He was. A good one, though he never made any money. He worked hard, but he died too young. And my ma didn't last much longer. They were proud, but left me nothing but debts. So you see, I'm nobody special. What would I do with college classes?" Johnny asked, and not as a rhetorical question.

"Almost anything," said Heyes with passion, "College opens doors for guys – people – from any background."

"Hah! For people like you, sure. You have time and money to spend years in school instead of working to support your families. What was your father? A banker? A big rancher?" Johnny was so openly jealous that the genial young man suddenly looked almost angry.

"No," said Heyes gently, sadly. "My folks were poor Kansas dirt farmers. They were both killed when I was nine, along with my brother and sister, and my cousin's family, too."

Johnny was appalled. "Oh my God! I'm sorry, Mr. Heyes. I shouldn't have said what I did. But how did you ever get to college?"

The former outlaw sighed. "That's alright, Johnny. It was a long time ago. I grew up in a bad orphanage. More of a work house, really. Finally, my cousin and I ran away. We almost starved. We did a lot of bad stuff to get by. It was years and years before I got to go to college. And that only happened because I was almost killed and got some tutoring while I was getting better in New York City. My tutor got me to try college. It was hard. Damn hard. But college saved me, really. I don't know what comes next, but it'll be better than it was. It has to be. I'll make it be better - for me, my family, and the people I'm lucky enough to teach."

Johnny sat, stunned, with his mouth opened for a while.

Finally, he said in soft, stunned tones, "Wow. So somebody like you – like me - could really go to college? Even teach? They let you do that?"

Heyes snorted. "Let me? No. I fought for it. I'm still fighting for it." He shook a finger at his new young friend, "Make no mistake, you have to work hard to get to college and to get along there. Really hard. If you come from a history like ours, it's harder than it is for the guys from wealthy families. I can't tell you isn't. But, from what I hear, a lot of the students here at this university haven't had a lot of schooling, either. That's why they have the prep school. My wife is going to teach there, helping students get up to speed before they start real college classes. They'll give you whatever help you need. For free, since you're from Colorado. Long as your good enough."

Johnny was getting excited. "Oh? Really? President Hale said they help folks get ready, but I didn't know he really meant for guys like me – I mean – really? I haven't met a lot of students. Like I said, I hired on in June, after classes was – were – over. And I don't get a lot of time indoors."

"But still, the president noticed you, he's encouraging you. You must be pretty smart," observed Heyes, giving Johnny a kern look.

"Well, I don't know . . ." Johnny looked at the wooden floor and blushed.

Heyes smiled encouragingly, "Yeah, but the president does. If he believes you can do it, maybe you should trust him. There's nothing wrong with believing in yourself."

The young cowboy asked anxiously, "But how do you know? How do you know if you can do it, go to college? Not fail at it."

Heyes smiled. "You don't know until you try. I knew could learn, even though I never finished seventh grade in school. I did well when I could get to classes. But college and grade school are about as different as, like Mark Twain says, lightning and the lightning bug. I surely didn't know for certain if I could make it. But I also didn't know how much I'd learn in college and what it would do for me."

"What do you mean?" Johnny was really intrigued. It struck Heyes, as he prepared to hold forth on one of his favorite topics, that it had been an awfully long time since the secretary had gone into President Hale's office for what should have been a very brief errand. Might the president and his secretary be finding this conversation interesting? The canny former outlaw snuck a glance at the inner office door out of the corner of his eye, not wanting Johnny to know what might be happening there. Sure enough, the office door was opened just a crack.

Heyes said, "Well, it changes a lot more than the jobs you can get, though it sure does change that. For me, of course, I know more about math and science. I can do a lot more than teach. I can do book keeping, business managing, or lots of things. Things that pay better than common labor, that's for sure. But mostly, I can solve problems - real problems – like in mines or bridges or with the army."

Heyes spoke slowly, explaining to himself almost as much as to Johnny, "But also, I see the world differently. It used to be, when I read the newspaper and they talked about other countries, if it wasn't just the obvious ones like England or Spain, I didn't really know where they were or understand much of what was said about them. And I didn't really care that much. Now I know and I care. The stories mean a lot more to me, about Arabia, or Japan, or the Philippines. I haven't been there, but they're real places to me. My world is a bigger place. And when there's an election coming, I feel like I know more what the politicians are talking about. I can be a better citizen, when I vote." Heyes paused for a moment. As a convicted felon, he wasn't at all sure he would ever be able to vote. "And if I hear an educated person talking and they quote, oh, Shakespeare or Homer or somebody, I know who they are talking about and I might even know the play or the book. Or I know how to find out. I can even make quotes of my own – it helps to impress educated people and get them to listen to me. Being college educated gets me respect."

"And that's not just appearances. Now I can say, and really think, more complicated stuff. I can think about things in a way I never could before. The more you know, the farther you can reach, with your mind. You find out that you might be interested in things you never even heard of before. They might really matter to you. You might have an impact on the world. Make things better, if you try hard enough." Heyes was watching his young listener; the young Coloradan had taken his feet off the ottoman and was leaning forward, hanging on Heyes' every word.

"So, you might be interested in taking some classes?" Heyes asked. "Like I said, tuition is free for folks from Colorado. And this is a fine school, from what I've read and heard."

Johnny smiled. "Maybe, I might get interested. Or maybe the president wants to tell me I dug that drainage ditch wrong." The two men laughed.

The inner office door opened. The secretary stepped out. "I'm sorry to keep you so long." Said Mr. Howe. "You can go in, Johnny. And Mr. Heyes, President Hale can see you next, if you can wait."

"Of course. Glad to meet you, Johnny. Good luck!" said Heyes, getting to his feet to shake the young Coloradan's hand.

Heyes sat back down. Mr. Howe was busy with a document at his desk. Heyes looked around the President's outer office. A rack of buffalo horns hung on the wall. There was an engraved and hand colored map of Colorado on another wall. Heyes stood and studied it for a minute, but he knew the state pretty well already. There was a black binder sitting on a low table between the armchairs in the outer office. Heyes picked it up and saw that it said "University of Colorado" on the spine. He glanced up at the secretary, who smiled encouragingly at him and nodded.

The binder proved to be full of clippings and flyers about the university. Heyes saw that the town of Boulder had been founded in 1859. Even by 1861, there was an article about the interest in starting a college there. By the end of that year, there had been a board in place for the university that was no more than a legislative bill and an idea. "Boards!" muttered Heyes under his breath.

In fact, there were few articles about the school until 1870, when the site was surveyed. Then things stalled again due to issues of money and politics. The former outlaw sighed. Getting education to go forward sometimes took a lot of patience and determination, as he had good cause to know. Finally, articles told how the will, the money, the law, and the land to found the school had come together. There had even been a heroic late night ride to get the right laws passed in time. Heyes was really getting interested in this history that had almost all happened during his own lifetime in an area he now knew well. He was about to start reading the batch of articles about the construction, in 1876, of the building where he sat when the president's office door opened. Heyes looked up to see Johnny leave the inner office, wave with his hat, and go out the door with a bright smile.

"Mr. Heyes, you can go in to see President Hale now," said the secretary. The frank curiosity in his blue eyes was visible now that Johnny had left. The former outlaw had absolutely no doubt that the secretary knew exactly who he was.

"Thank you, sir," said Heyes, putting the binder back down on the table and getting to his feet. "It's an interesting school. I hope I can read more about it later." This fetched a smile from the secretary, who was obviously proud of his young, western school.

Heyes walked through the door into the president's paneled office. Well filled bookshelves lined one wall. The elderly, bearded president stood up and extended his hand. "Welcome to the University of Colorado, Mr. Heyes. I'm Horace Hale." The former grad student easily recognized a New England accent – he had heard many at Columbia University.

"Thank you," said the former outlaw, firmly grasping the president's hand. The old man's hand was skinny and lined with blue veins, but his grip was strong. "I'm honored to meet you, President Hale."

"And I to meet you, Hannibal Joshua Heyes," said President Hale as he resumed his seat behind a handsomely carved desk liked with papers. "Take a seat, Mr. Heyes. That was quite a speech you gave to Johnny."

"I, um, thank you, sir. I think." Heyes was suddenly nervous. This frail but canny old man seemed to see right through him with his keen eyes. "I meant every word of it."

The president stroked his grey beard. "I don't doubt it, despite your reputation as a purveyor of untruths. Your curriculum vitae is very eloquent. And the signatures of great men on the amnesty documents and letters of recommendation don't hurt your case."

Heyes was enjoying the President's elegant vocabulary. "Thank you. Sir, did you tell your secretary my first name?"

The old man nodded and pushed his wire rimmed glasses back up his nose. "I did. But I told him to keep it to himself. And I do trust him."

The former outlaw squirmed a bit on the upright chair opposite the president's desk. "Alright, then, I will trust him as well."

The president said, "I notice you didn't tell Johnny Carpenter your old name."

"No. I know everyone will know it in time, but I hope if maybe I can establish myself in their eyes as a teacher before they know about my past, maybe they'll still believe I can teach when they do find out."

The president was skeptical. "Perhaps so, or perhaps not - depending upon how well you conduct your business with the students. And the common sense of the students. And how much you tell them. You never gave Johnny any direction about what sort of jobs might be opened to him as a college graduate."

"No," agree Heyes. "For one thing, I don't know him well enough to know what he might want. I'm sure you know far more in that direction than I do. And also, I know how impressionable uneducated young fellows that age can be. If I suggested he try to be, say, a surveyor, he might get all excited about it even if it isn't the right thing for him. And if I'd given him a list of possibilities, it could have confused him."

The president smiled behind his beard and nodded. Heyes thought he had scored some points there with the wise old academic.

Heyes asked, "Did Mr. Howe tell you why I wanted to speak with you?"

President Hale coughed dryly and nodded again. "He said you were interested in tutoring math or science for us. At this late date, I suppose it is all you can reasonably offer us for this coming semester. Frankly, with your qualifications, I wonder that another school has not already hired you as an instructor or even a full professor, despite your lack of a doctorate."

"Thank you, sir. But they cared more about my past than my future. I care more about the future of my students, my potential students." Heyes watched to see how this would be taken.

"Very laudable. I understand that one Elizabeth Warren Heyes is going to be teaching at our preparatory school this fall. We are expecting her to report here either later today or on Monday. Is she related to you?" the old man asked, glancing up at an ornate clock on a shelf over the door behind Heyes.

Heyes smiled. "She's my wife. She and Charles Homer, the Columbia University professor, should be driving in this direction as we speak."

"Indeed? I look forward to meeting her. Mr. Jordan, of our preparatory school, was most impressed by her credentials. But I also look forward to meeting the redoubtable Professor Homer." The old man was watching Heyes with hawk-like attention.

Joshua found it no effort to smile. No one on earth could give him a more ringing endorsement than could Charlie Homer, speaking in person. "I'm sure he would be delighted to speak with you."

"What brings Professor Homer all the way from New York City to Boulder, Colorado?" inquired the president, as he stroked his short beard.

Heyes said, "Oh, he just came out to spend some time with me, and with Mrs. Heyes, and my partner and his wife, as we're settling here. We might not see each other for quite a while, I suppose. He and his late wife were very kind to me when I was in school. And Charlie – Professor Homer – still is a good friend."

President Hale asked, "Did they know your real identity, before the world at large learned it?"

Heyes confirmed, "Yes, sir, eventually they did. After we had known each other for a while."

"And they didn't break off the friendship, when they discovered that you were wanted by the authorities?" Asked the president.

"No, sir. They were very faithful. Almost like family."

"They were faithful to you - rather than to Columbia University?" the president asked.

"No, sir. I would never have made them make that choice. I'm a faithful Columbia man, myself. Bleed Columbia blue, as they say. No, I wouldn't ever put my students or fellow alumni or professors or the school itself in danger. Never," Heyes asserted firmly.

Hale smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. So you have tutored before?"

"Yes, sir. At Columbia I worked with a young man from the west who was only fifteen. He was – is – brilliant. But at that age, sometimes it was hard to get him to buckle down and really work," Heyes was proud of what he had been able to do for Tom O'Keeffe.

"How did you get him to be disciplined – to work?" prodded the old man.

Heyes grinned self-consciously. "I found out what motivated him best. He loved hearing my western stories. Since he was – is – crippled he couldn't get out and do all the riding around and stuff that I could. So he loved to hear about my adventures. I made that the deal – no stories unless he did the work and did it right. If he really worked, I'd talk to him all day."

"You told him about your criminal activities?" President Hale was appalled.

Heyes hastened to correct that impression. "No, sir. Of course not. Mostly, the stories were about just ordinary stuff. Hunting wolves, herding cattle, mining gold, playing poker."

"Ordinary?" The president exclaimed softly. He gestured for Heyes to go on.

"And now and then I'd change a few names and tell some outlaw stories from a different point of view, as if they didn't really happen to me, but to somebody else. I never did make crime look glamorous, don't worry. And I never would give that impression to any students. Because it isn't glamorous or comfortable, most of the time. It's hard, dirty, uncomfortable, and dangerous. If any of those dime novelists really knew what it's like – well, they wouldn't write what they do. Crime makes for a hard life. I'm been hit, kicked, locked up, cut, shot, half starved, almost died of thirst – a bunch of stuff that was no fun at all. Why do you think I stopped doing it? Besides the facts that it's wrong and that good, innocent people get hurt."

The president chuckled warmly. "I see. I'm glad you did leave that life, Mr. Heyes. I saw about your award for teaching. Your recommenders make it clear that you have a gift for opening young minds. How many hours each week will you be available to tutor students?"

Heyes was relieved – the president's interest in his professional work, not just his past, was real. "Probably only two or three hours maybe twice a week. I don't think I can do more, right now. I'll be managing a hotel full time in Louisville. And I haven't signed the contract yet, but I think I'll be doing some consulting on engineering problems for a coal mine. That won't be very many hours, but enough to make a difference."

The president nodded happily. "Will you, indeed? So you'll be applying mathematics in two very different ways – at least two ways – all of importance to many of our students."

Heyes said, "Yes, sir. That's one of the reasons I want to do the mine consulting – I need to learn the day to day facts of coal mining. I know the math and physics well. But if I'm going to be of use to the miners around here, I need to know the hard realities of the job."

Hale said, "I can see that expertise in your curriculum vitae. So you plan to be a very busy man, especially as an expectant father establishing a new home. I understand your wife is expecting to deliver in the spring."

"I want to make enough money to afford the best for our child. And I have loans to pay back," explained Heyes.

The president nodded. "I see. May I ask what hotel you will be managing? The one attached to your partner's saloon?"

"No, sir. He sold Christy's Place. He and his wife don't want to bring up their children in such a place. He bought the Ross Hotel. We'll change the name," said Heyes.

Hale looked down at a pamphlet on his desk. "I hope the new business thrives. With your mathematical prowess at work, I would expect it to do well. Here's a copy of our catalog – you can see the mathematics classes listed."

"Thank you, sir." Heyes was delighted to see this tangible evidence of real interest from the University of Colorado.

The president asked, "Can you return here on Monday?"

Heyes said, "Yes, sir. What time?"

Hale scratched his beard and thought for a moment. "I know it's a bit of a ride from Louisville and you have things to manage with the hotel. But could you be here by 10:00?"

"Yes, sir." Heyes was now pretty sure that he was going to be the new math tutor for the University of Colorado.

The president said regretfully, "I'm afraid we don't have much money for a tutor, but we can keep you quite busy, I think. By Monday, I'll have a contract written up for you. That is, assuming our board members approve of our hiring a retired train robber, of course."

Heyes was not pleased at the mention of board members needing to approve of him. He had more than enough experience with that. But his ears pricked at the words "hire" and "contract" – that meant that money would be involved. He had carefully not mentioned the idea of volunteering, and now, it seemed, he wouldn't have to fall back on that sacrifice.

The president was apologetic on the subject of pay. "I realize the amount we can manage for your remuneration per hour won't be as much as you would like, since it wasn't in the budget. But it will be something. Can you ask Professor Homer to come and see me while he is in the area? If he is here today, I would be very glad to see him."

Heyes narrowly avoided giving his new boss a very broad grin. For a man who had expected to be volunteering, any pay was an unexpected bonus. And anyone who spoke with Charlie Homer in person about Heyes was bound to come away impressed. Heyes knew well what an effective advocate his former advisor was. "Of course – Professor Homer should be here before long, actually. I see classes start on Wednesday, September 9th. I'm glad it's not right at the beginning of the month – it gives me more time to prepare than I thought I would have. Two and a half weeks should be enough. Do you want to know anything more, President Hale?"

The old man neatened the stack of Heyes' papers on his desk. "No, I think that covers my current needs. I'm certain we will have additional points to discuss on Monday, once I have spoken to some members of our board. And our math instructors."

Heyes asked, "When can I meet the professors teaching mathematics?"

The president said, "They aren't here today, but I'll make sure our mathematics faculty is all here on Monday. If you ascend one more flight of stairs, you will find our library. Mr. Lowrey, our librarian, can lend you the text books for the mathematics classes to be taught this semester. I look forward to seeing you again next week."

The two men shook hands again. Heyes felt that the president was happy with the situation. He only hoped that the board members would be as pleased. The former outlaw had had too many disappointments form board members of late to take anything for granted.

Heyes smiled warmly at Mr. Howe the secretary, who returned the greeting with a bit more reserve. The future tutor trotted eagerly up the stairs. He nearly ran into his own wife and Charlie Homer, who were walking toward a door down the hall.

"Heyes! Were you able to talk to someone about tutoring?" Beth asked anxiously.

"Yes – I talked with President Hale, himself. He wants me to come back on Monday and sign a contract. They'll pay me!" Heyes spoke softly, but with excitement.

"Wonderful!" said Charlie.

"Oh, and Charlie, President Hale wants to talk with you right now. His office is downstairs," added Heyes.

"Terrific!" said Charlie, slapping Heyes on the shoulder. "Well, I'll leave you two and go do some recommending. I'm sure I can find you when you're reading to leave, Beth. I hope it goes well."

As Professor Homer went down the stairs, Heyes leaned close to Beth. "Gosh, I'd love to teach here. What a great place!"

"I hope you'll have your wish soon, honey," said Beth, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek.

A familiar figure stepped into the hall. "I thought I recognized your voice – Joshua!" exclaimed Jesse Jordan. The blond teacher and former rancher was more wrinkled than when Heyes had last seen him, but otherwise much the same. He had the same ready smile as he reached out to shake his old friend's hand. "It's great to see you – free. And this must be Mrs. Heyes, our new prep school teacher."

"Yes, indeed, Jesse. I'm proud to introduce my wife, Elizabeth Heyes. If she got me up to speed to go to college, she can do it for anybody."

Jesse gave Beth a little bow. "I'm glad to meet you, Ma'am. Welcome to the University of Colorado."

"I'm very happy to meet you, Mr. Jordan," said Mrs. Heyes. "My husband has told me how you met. I'm very grateful for your helping to keep him and his partner free."

"Oh, it wasn't me – it was my daughters," said Jesse, opening the door to the classroom where he was going to meet with Beth and gesturing for both the Heyes to step inside and sit down in the chairs he had drawn up near the door. He pulled another chair out from behind a desk so all three of them had places to sit.

"How are Beth and Bridget – and Belle?" asked Heyes.

"Oh, thriving, thriving," said Jesse. "You're looking very well, yourself, considering all you and your partner have been through lately. We've been reading and keeping up with your news, of course."

"That's nice of you," said Joshua. "How old are Beth and Bridget now? I'd very much like to see the whole family."

"Eighteen and twenty, believe it or not. And you'll surely see them – they're both in school here. I'm very proud of our smart daughters." Jesse sounded happy.

"You must be," said Beth Heyes. "You must all come to dinner as soon as we are properly settled. We're living with Mr. and Mrs. Curry in Louisville in the new house they built"

"Oh, yes," said Jesse. "How are Thaddeus and his wife? I haven't gone to see them – I wasn't sure he would want me to, since he got to be a sheriff. Thaddeus has come a long way!"

Heyes laughed. "Nobody calls him Thaddeus any longer, though you can still call me Joshua – I took it as my middle name. My partner's broken leg is pretty well healed up. He and his wife just bought a hotel I'm going to manage. And they're expecting a baby late this year."

"That's great! I have heard about what a fine sheriff Kid Curry makes. He's very well respected around here, you know," said Jesse Jordan enthusiastically.

"And so are you, Professor Jordan," said Heyes. He stood up. "Well, I'd better let you two get down to work. I need to go see your librarian about getting hold of the text books for the math classes for this semester. I'll be tutoring math, if the board doesn't shoot down the idea. I hope to see you again, soon, Jesse. Please give my best to your wife and daughters."

"I will," said Jesse. "They'll be sorry to have missed you. My daughters never have forgotten their adventures with Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, you know."

"Neither have the Kid and I," Heyes assured him. "I just hope the Kid's doing alright. He's got a dangerous prisoner being picked up by Wyoming marshals today. The guy's gang friends could show up and make things hard. I wish I could be there to help."

"He'll be fine on his own, Heyes," said Beth. "He's a fine sheriff, and he's got half the deputies from a dozen counties around helping out."

"I know. But I surely hope there isn't trouble," said Heyes as he went out the door.

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A recent visit to Colorado has given me a lot of new insights into the history of that state. It was hardly my first visit, but it was my first time seeing Louisville and the University of Colorado.

In case you looked at the map and wondered why, after Heyes was shot in the head in 1885, Clay didn't go from the Flatirons to El Dorado Springs or Superior, neither small Colorado town had yet been founded. The coal mining town of Louisville was founded in 1877.

There are so many trees and buildings in Louisville now that you can't see the mountains unless you really look for them, but that wasn't the case yet in 1891. The mountains certainly still dominate the scene just outside of town. Many thanks to the staff of the Louisville Historical Museum. I got some great books there and there are lots of pictures and information on line. According to the folks at the Museum, Louisville is now pronounced Lu-is-vil, but in years past, it was louey-vil. So that is how the Kid and Heyes would have known it and said it.

I have investigated University of Colorado history with the help of the Alex at the University of Colorado Heritage Center and the 1965 book by William E. Davis, Glory Colorado! There are great pictures and lots of information on line and in the book, as well as at the center in person. So the information about the buildings, the trees, and the lake is all correct for the time. The book even told me the contents of each floor of Old Main. I do know the names of all of the real faculty and even the students, but I have made up my own characters rather than stealing the real names. Only the president and the librarian are real people. This allows me freedom to interpret. It is true that people staked horses out under the trees planted behind the Main building in those early days of the University of Colorado.