While Hannibal Heyes was still riding from the Curry Place toward the Fayette mine Saturday morning, Jed Curry was sitting behind his grand new mahogany desk at the new hotel, in his paneled office. He was wearing a fine new grey suit he had had tailored in New York, and his gold nugget cufflinks. A cigar lay unlit on the desk top. Curry wasn't enjoying his new finery. He was grumbling to himself. "Some day off this is." He stared at a pad of paper that had a list of names on it. Most were already crossed off.
Al Kelly came in the office door. "Here's another one, boss." He handed the sheriff a slip of paper. The blond deputy was careful not to smile at his frustrated superior.
Curry inspected the note, sighed and crossed another name off his list of potential replacement reverends to preach in Louisville the next morning. "Thanks for fetching that for me, Al. I'm getting damn sick of going back and forth to the telegraph office." He added sarcastically, "Those guys are making a fortune off of me. Me and my big mouth! I had to promise the reverend."
"You're too good a guy for your own good. Some day off for you," remarked the deputy, resting one hand on his gun grip.
"I already said that about six times," Curry replied glumly. "I got more to do here at the hotel than I can keep up with, but every time I try to get started on something, there's another message. Those preachers keep thinking of somebody else I ought to ask to fill in for us, and they all say 'no' anyhow. The good ones all have their own churches already."
"I got to get back on patrol," said Kelly leaning on his gun grip and gesturing toward the door, but he didn't show any signs of leaving.
"Then go on," snapped Curry. Realizing how ungrateful this sounded, he added, "And thanks for dropping by the telegraph office for me."
Al grinned his usual smart aleck grin and gladly went on his way. Running errands for his boss was not his idea of an enjoyable day. Flirting with the girls at Christy's Place was more his speed.
"Boss?" Came a voice from outside the office door. This wasn't a deputy – it was Hal Chase, the former hotel manger who was helping to bridge the changeover from one hotel owner to the next. With incoming manager Hannibal Heyes off to consult at a coal mine all day, Chase was in charge of administration on this Saturday.
"Come in, Chase," called the new hotel owner.
"Thank you, Mr. Curry," said Chase, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "I've completed that list Mr. Heyes and I have been working on – the estimated costs of repairs and changes we need in place to change Ross's Hotel into – what are you going to call it?"
"I'm keeping that under my hat until we open," said Curry, hiding behind his poker face.
"In other words you still don't know," said Chase with a straight face..
Curry tried to look fierce but then he laughed. "Yeah. But Heyes is working on it. He's the idea man."
While the two men were leaning over Curry's desk going over technical details of the changes to the business, there was a knock on the office door. "Who is it?" Asked Curry.
"It's Billy. I got some stuff for you, Sheriff," came the voice of Curry's other deputy.
"Good – come on in," called the sheriff.
"Here you go, boss," said Billy Healy, smiling broadly as he handed Curry three pieces of paper. "I think we might have a preacher for you. And look what I got from Sheriff Wilde! Looks good, eh, Mr. Chase?"
Chase smiled and Jed exclaimed "Great!" as he unfolded a pair of creased but clean old wanted posters offering ten thousand dollar rewards for turning in Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes. It felt strange to see the posters that had used to be the bane of his existence, and to know that now they were just nostalgic pieces of the past. The posters would be perfect pieces of decoration for the new hotel. Then Curry looked at the telegram. It told him of a young Methodist minister named Baker who was assisting a reverend in Denver. He could take the train to Louisville and be there with a prepared sermon the next morning if the Sheriff could give him some guidance about the community.
Jed smiled. Life was looking up. "Thanks, Billy. Those handbills about Heyes and me will be great when we open the hotel with the new name. And this young preacher might work out. Says here he's got a place in Denver where he can use a telephone. So I can talk to him and help him get going on a sermon. I'm just glad it ain't me. Can't imagine preaching to a bunch of strangers."
"Yeah, he's got to have guts, this preacher," said Billy. "Well, I better get back to the office. See you later, Mr Chase. Can I take any messages to the telegraph office for you on the way, boss?"
"Yeah, thanks. I'll write up a reply to this guy Baker in Denver so he'll be ready for me to call. I won't tell the other preachers I don't need them until I'm sure about this guy." Curry scribbled a note on a pad and handed it to Billy. Then he turned to finish his work with Chase. But they worked quickly so Curry could look after his other responsibilities.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Jed Curry stood in his sheriff's office feeling awkward in his good suit and without his badge and gun. "Hello!" He spoke loudly into the primitive telephone's mouth piece perched on his desk. "Is this Reverend Baker?"
"Yes. Is this Sheriff Curry?" Came back a strong baritone voice through the little round ear piece.
Curry was surprised to hear so young a minister with so authoritative a voice. He answered, "Yes. Thank you for letting me call. You wanted to know about our church here?"
Reverend Baker was respectful. "Yes, sir. I'm new to the area, so I want to be sure to speak in a way that will be helpful to your congregation. I don't want to just stand in the pulpit and talk about things of no interest."
"Oh? Where are you from?" Asked Curry.
Baker said, "Kansas City, Kansas. I just got here earlier this year."
"Welcome to Colorado. I'm from Kansas, myself. So's my partner." Curry was always happy to meet a fellow Kansan.
"Your partner?" Asked Baker.
Curry said, "Yeah. He manages my hotel. Hannibal Heyes."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, the young preacher said, softly, "Oh."
Curry hastened to reassure Baker, "Sorry – I thought you knew about us. How we went straight and got amnesty."
Reverend Baker sounded shaken. "I didn't realize you were the same man I read about in the newspapers. So you're a sheriff now?"
Curry was anxious to do whatever it took to bring home the preacher the congregation needed. "I am. Four governors asked me to be Sheriff for a few years, after they gave us amnesty. Are you willing to preach for us or not? I wouldn't want all the Methodists in this whole town to miss church because I used to rob folks."
Baker was pulling himself back together. "Of course I'll preach. I wouldn't think of leaving your congregation in the lurch."
"Thank You!" Curry was relieved.
"I just . . . I didn't realize. How did you come to be the person Reverend Packer asked to help him find a substitute while he's away?"
Jed explained, "I was there when the Reverend decided to ride the train with a gunman being extradited to Wyoming. All the other guys with the prisoner, the guy I shot, were marshals from Wyoming. So I was the only one the reverend could ask, and I do attend his church."
The young preacher sounded a bit nervous. "I see. You shot the gunman?"
Curry tried to calm the uneasy man of the cloth. "Yes. I had to, Reverend. I don't like to shoot anybody, but he drew on me."
"And you beat him to the draw?" The young reverend asked.
"Sure." Curry couldn't keep a hint of pride out of his voice.
Baker wanted to make sure he understood the story. "You didn't try to kill him?"
Curry said, "No, I just shot him in the trigger finger."
There was another silence while the stunned preacher digested the idea of someone who could hit that tiny a target at that speed. "Good gracious! On purpose?"
Curry casually answered, "Yeah. Figured it would stop him shooting at guys anymore."
"So I would imagine," the reverend chuckled. "So, Louisville is a coal mining town?"
Jed was relieved to move on to questions about the town rather than just him, personally. "Yes. Some of the mines are right in town. It's handy for the men. They can walk to work and walk home in time for dinner with their families. A lot of them come to church with their families."
"Thats good that they can. Are they good men, then?"
"Yeah. Most of them are pretty decent guys. Lot of English, Irish, Scots, Austrians, Germans, some French, Welsh, even Italians are starting to come in. Hard working guys. But there are some rough ones, too, I got to say." Curry was all too aware of the rough elements.
Baker wasn't surprised. "I see. Are there a lot of saloons in town."
Jed dared to say, "Yes. My wife and I used to run one. We just sold it and bought a regular hotel. We're expecting a baby, so we want our child to grow up right."
"Good!" Baker gladly affirmed the change, saying nothing against the past.
After a few more minutes talking, the young preacher knew what he needed. They arranged when he would arrive, late that evening, and that he would stay at the Currys' new hotel. Jed was glad to get it all neatly set. He might even have time that day to get some hotel work done after Charlie drive Beth and Cat back to the house.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Saturday night, as Kid Curry unbuttoned his shirt, he asked his already naked wife, "So, sweetie, how do you like being at this house instead of at the saloon all day?"
There was silence from the pregnant lady who lay under the sheet. Jed turned and looked at her. Cat looked thoughtful and squirmed uncomfortably. Finally, she said, "It's gonna take some getting used to. When Beth and Charlie are here, like today, that's nice. But when it's just me, like so much of yesterday, well, it gets awful quiet."
Jed sighed. After all their work and expense, it was a disappointment. But he knew what she meant. Compared to the lively, social routine of running a saloon and hotel, running a house was bound to be very calm. "You'll get used to it. And when the baby gets here, it'll be different."
Cat laughed. "You can say that again! Between housework and looking after the baby, and keeping tabs on the new hotel, I guess I'll be run off my feet. No time to be lonesome. It'll be good to have Beth around to help, when she's not teaching."
Jed nodded. "Yeah, and I'll be glad to have Heyes handy to help with stuff."
"Aw, gosh" Cat said suddenly, "here it is dark and Heyes never came home from that coal mine. Beth must be having a fit."
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Sunday was clear and bright, with hardly a cloud in the bright blue sky over the plains and mountains. A bleary-eyed Hannibal Heyes tied his weary horse at a rail and slunk into the small, white painted church as quietly as he could. He saw his family and Charlie sitting up front. Some people turned to see who had opened the creaking front doors after the sermon had begun, but Heyes' own wife and cousin and cousin-in-law were not among them. Audible whispers among the congregants featured Heyes' notorious name. He could feel himself blushing crimson as he sat on the end of an otherwise empty back pew. But it was the only empty pew. He was surprised to see how many people had come to hear the substitute preacher. The young minister, a tall, stout red-head with a bushy beard, had a lively, engaging manner.
Heyes was still dressed in the rough work clothes he had worn to his first day at the coal mine, having not taken time to go home and change. The shamed former gang leader tried to listen to the sermon. He could tell the preacher had the congregation paying rapt attention as he spoke about being opened to people from different places and backgrounds, as Christ had accepted people from all different backgrounds among his followers. It was appropriate for a town with miners from all over Europe, people from a variety of faiths, and two former outlaws. But Heyes was more worried about being accepted by his own family as the sermon ended and the congregation stood to sing a hymn. He whispered the words of the hymn and the prayer that followed. Heyes went out the door of the church before everyone else was ready to leave. He stood on the boardwalk in front of the harness store the street, waiting for his family.
As Reverend Baker ended the service and went to stand by the door to say goodbye, Jed Curry was by his side. The mayor shook the hand of the reverend and then of the town's sheriff. "Thank you, Reverend baker. And Sheriff Curry, thank you for making sure we had a fine service today!"
Other men hurried up to add their congratulations to the mayor's. "We value you as a leader in this town, Sheriff Curry," said the publisher of the local newspaper. Many voices echoed his. The mine owners, store keepers, and even Mr. Long the banker joyousLy acclaimed their sheriff. The their wives stood at their sides, smiling at Cat and congratulating her on the new hotel, and the child to come. The elegantly dressed Mrs. Long even put out her arms to hug Mrs. Curry.
Jed Curry and his proud wife smiled happily at the praise and even more so at the connection with the people f their home town. The former outlaw who was now a sheriff glowed as his community surrounded him with approval and appreciation. Cat, the once despised saloon owner, was now embraced by the wives who had once averted their eyes, held her husband's hand and with a white handkerchief dabbed the happy tears from her eyes. It was a wonderful moment. Heyes, listening from across the street, smiled in pride and fought with some success against jealousy. The people of Louisville were learning how lucky they were to have the former Kid Curry as their Sheriff. Heyes was deeply happy for the Kid and Cat, but also for the whole town.
Curry stood by the door, introducing the Reverend to these parishioners he had never met before. There was a crowd around the reverend and former outlaw who now wore a star. Cat beamed with pride while Beth stood alone, awkwardly, near by. Heyes knew he should go to her, but couldn't make himself do it. He listened and watched from a distance. No one glanced at Heyes, who was wishing the earth would open up and swallow him. Then Beth looked over, glaring angrily at her husband. He turned and walked away, feeling terribly disappointed in himself. He did not blame Beth at all. He had, after all, broken his word.
Charlie came out of the church and shook the Kid's hand, then hurried across the street to catch up with his former student. The two began to walk towards the hotel side by side in silence. Many people were walking around them, going home from the service. "So, he got a good preacher, didn't he?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah. Hey, Prof," Heyes said quietly. "Got something for you."
The former outlaw handed his mentor a small stack of dollar bills.
"What's this for?" Asked the professor, startled.
Heyes tried to speak casually. "My rent – what you paid for me while I was on trial and in prison. Plus a little interest."
"I can't take this!" Said Charlie, trying to return the money to his former student. "I know you're in debt."
Heyes held up his hand to fend off the bills. "No. Please take it. I owe so many people so much. If I can check just one off the list, it would make me feel a little better. Not that I don't owe you for lots of other stuff I could never pay back, but at least I won't owe you actual money any longer."
"Alright, if that's how you feel, son." Charlie put the money into his pocket. They walked in silence for another few steps, slowly, letting pairs and families of church goers pass them by.
Eventually Homer asked, "Is that why you stayed at the mine last night to play poker."
Heyes spoke softly. "Yeah. I had to find a way to cover that debt before you left. I didn't know another way to get the money in time, honestly, without borrowing it from the Kid. I couldn't do that."
"That wasn't the only reason." Prompted Homer.
Heyes gave his former advisor a crooked smile. "Well, I was playing with mine owners, important guys. They insisted on staking me. All of them, a bit each. I paid them all back, with interest. Not a lot. But enough that they know I'm not out to take them. They might trust me, one day. I need to have those guys as friends, and so does the Kid. And besides, I bet half of them are board members at the University. They sure asked me enough questions about math and teaching for an interview. It was the chattiest poker game I've ever played."
"I see." Charlie smiled at someone over Heyes' shoulder. The former gang leader turned to see his wife giving him an apologetic smile. She had obviously heard what Heyes had just told Charlie.
Beth took her husband's hand "I'm still annoyed at you for staying at the mine to play poker after you promised not to. But I guess I understand why you left me all night to worry about you."
Heyes sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't want to, I felt awful the whole time, but . . ."
Beth grinned wickedly. "Oh, Heyes, don't lie to me. You were dying to let those men see how good Hannibal Heyes is at poker, now that they can know who you really are."
"Well, maybe I enjoyed it, just a little, between pangs of guilt." He winked at Beth and kissed her.
Beth said, "And I do appreciate your riding in here this morning in time for most of the service. You must have started off at sunrise or before. I hope you got at least a little sleep."
"Well, some," said the yawning former outlaw.
Charlie said, "Heyes, you really ought to meet Reverend Baker. He's quite a guy. Not a bad fellow to add to your list of local friends."
Heyes reluctantly walked over to where his partner, Cat, and Reverend Baker were still talking with some supportive townsfolk as they walked toward the train station. "Hello, Heyes," said the Kid with a happy sparkle in his blue eyes. "Reverend, I'd like you to meet my partner."
Baker put out his hand with a warm smile. "Happy to meet you, Mr. Heyes. Congratulations on your degrees and your work with the University. And it's a fine hotel you gentlemen are running. I appreciate being welcomed to spend the night there."
"Thank you, Reverend," said Heyes. "For everything. It surely was good of you to come and preach to us this morning. It was a good message. Jed Curry and I and our wives have special reason to know. I hope folks take it to heart."
The minister looked thoughtful. "Thank, Mr. Heyes. I hope so. There are an awful lot of kinds of folks in the West, from all over, with all kinds of pasts. We need to respect each other as best we can, even if we don't agree on everything .I see the Catholics coming from their own service just across the way. We all worship God – we all need to respect that."
But the reverend could not stay to talk long. He hurried to the station to take the next train to Denver.
Then the Heyes and Curry families, along with Charlie Homer, turned into the alley behind the hotel.
"Good work getting a fine preacher. Kid," said Heyes. "Sorry I was late getting back."
As they went in the service entrance in back, going in a back hall, Jed Curry asked sarcastically, "You sure you have a minute to check in at our hotel, Heyes? Between all your jobs, and your poker games?"
"Oh, come on, Jed," moaned his partner. "I said I was sorry about the poker. And I told Cable he won't see me out at the Fayette Mine till next week."
Curry gave his incoming manager a sharp look. "Good. Still, I hope it was a heck of a poker game."
Heyes shook his head. "No, not really. Too chatty for even me. Those mine owners did nothing but ask me questions. Sometimes it's a pain being famous."
Curry rolled his eyes. He knew the burdens of fame all too well. But he had little time to complain. He got quickly down to business. Curry said to his partner, "Chase left you that list of the costs for stuff we need to get done at the hotel. It's on your desk – or his. I guess it's the same thing right now."
Heyes nodded. "Pretty much. I'll go have a look, decide what we need to do first and see how the money for it might stretch."
"I'll go talk to the folks in the kitchen and catch up with maintenance," said Cat. "But I can show you folks around a bit first," she said to Charlie and Beth. "Maybe you'll have some ideas for decorating with the stuff we've gathered already. See you later, gentlemen."
"You had any time to think more about the new name for the place?" Heyes asked his partner.
"Not exactly a bunch of time, no." The Kid did not hide that he was still annoyed at his partner. "Curry and Heyes Hotel?"
Heyes snorted. "Very funny. Not real subtle. We better decide for real soon. We got to get signs painted, bills of fare printed up, pay for some local newspaper spots and maybe national advertising to get the tourists in."
"I was thinking, what about . . . " Heyes began, but the Kid cut him off with a wave of his hand. He pulled the key out of his pocket. The two men walked into the paneled owner's office.
Curry closed the door and sat down on his leather chair. He gestured for his partner to sit down opposite him. "Alright, Heyes." Said Curry, ever watchful about security, "What's the plan?"
The former gang leader said earnestly, "What about The Hidey Hole? Like it's both an outlaw hideout and kinda an exclusive spot – a really comfy, safe place."
Curry paused, leaning his chin on his hand. "Hm. Don't like having Hole in there."
"Well, Hideaway, then. What do you think?" prodded Heyes.
Curry scratched his head. The blue eyes were thoughtful. "That's better. But hm. Maybe the Hideout?"
Heyes thought for a moment. He nodded. The crows feet around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "That's it, Kid That's really right. The place you want to go. And where they know we're at home. Yeah. You got it."
The Kid smiled broadly at his cousin's high opinion of a Kid Curry plan. "Thanks! I'll ask Cat, but she'll like it. I know she will. Tomorrow, we get signs ordered!"
The partners shook hands. It was agreed. Heyes grinned and slapped his partner on his shoulder. They had made another plan together. It felt good.
The two former gang leaders were soon deep into sharing local news and planning how they would make the hotel like a hideout, "but nicer. Comfy," said Curry.
"A little bit of luxury, as much as we can afford, anyhow," added the darker former outlaw. "Some good wine. Maybe a painting or two. But I guess we'll start with prints. There are some good chromos after paintings by my old pal Moran."
Curry nodded. "Yeah – good. They're cheaper than paintings, I guess."
There was a knock on the door. "Billy?" Called Curry.
"No, Sheriff," said a neatly bearded stranger who put his head in the door. "My name is Sargent. May I see you for a minute?"
"What can I do for you, sir?" Asked Curry, motioning to beckon Sargent in.
The short, portly stranger was dressed in a grey suit that looked like it must have been made by an expensive tailor. "I hope you can give me some advice, or maybe help."
"Glad to meet you, Sargent." Curry shook Sargent's hand. "Have a seat, Mr. Sargent." Curry pointed to the armchair opposite his desk. The hotel owner sat behind his desk and looked expectantly at his visitor.
"Should I leave? Give you two gentlemen privacy?" Asked Heyes. "I'm Mr. Curry's business partner, Mr. Sargent, but I don't work for the law."
"No, please stay, Mr. Heyes," says Sargent in an upper crust New England accent. "What I'm asking about has to do with the University of Colorado, and I understand you will be working with us there."
"Us? You work at the university?," asked Heyes with a tentative smile. He sat on the edge of his partner's heavy new desk. Then he stood up again. "Oh – you're the new Dean aren't you?"
"That's right. And I teach science. I just started recently. Good to meet you." Sargent shook Heyes' hand, then sat back down.
"So what can we do for you?" Asked Heyes, sitting back down on Curry's desk. Jed shot his partner an irritated glance, for usurping both his desk and his authority. The slightly senior cousin fell back into his leadership role easily.
Sargent sighed and leaned back in the armchair, crossing his legs. "I've been here just a few months. I'm afraid I've already gotten myself into trouble. I'm hoping maybe you gentlemen can help me to get out of it, or at least around it."
"Just what kind of trouble are you in?" Asked Curry, narrowly beating his partner to the familiar question. The Dean had their attention. Trouble was something they both knew all too well.
"Well, there are some rough fellows at Colorado, as I guess you've heard." Both the partners nodded. "When I started, we had a young handyman who was awful cocky. He was being smart with the faculty and staff. He didn't exactly say shocking things, but he skirted awfully close to the line. He was pretty offensive to the women on the faculty and staff. My wife does some tutoring, so I heard things from her about him. I thought maybe I was being too sensitive, being from the East. Some of the ladies were really starting to get nervous around him, though most of the men just seemed to take his attitude in stride. So I gave him some slack. But then – well, he made a remark to my wife that . . . I fired him. There was another young man, much nicer and just as able, who was ready to take on the job. He does a good job and he's respectful."
Heyes said, "Oh, yeah, I met the new guy. Johnny. I didn't hear his last name. Seems like me a good fellow. Hardworking. Smart, too."
Sargent agreed. "Yes, he is. He's a good hire. He may even make a student. Johnny Kirk isn't the problem. Abimelech Brown is."
"The guy you fired?" Asked Curry, glancing at his partner. What could he expect at this university?
"Yes."
"Gosh, and I thought I had a silly name!" Laughed Heyes uneasily. "Abimelech. Poor guy. But he's causing problems?"
Sargent looked very serious. "Unfortunately, he is. I'm just back from a trip out of town. I heard there might be trouble waiting for me. I stopped here to stay the night in your hotel. But I have an important meeting on campus tomorrow. I have to get there. I'll be meeting some board members and new faculty. I hope to get there safely. But I hear Brown has gathered a bunch of rough friends of his. They'll be waiting at the Main Building for me tomorrow. They want to keep me out. The President and I worry that if I don't make that meeting, this rough bunch could be emboldened, keep disrupting things and get really dangerous. But if can get past them this time, maybe they'll give me some respect and back off."
"Do you think they'll be armed?" Asked The Kid.
Sargent nodded. "Yes. I know they will. We intercepted a note to one of Brown's confederates. He's a local man who always has a gun on his hip."
"How men are they expecting?" Asked Curry, while Heyes silently chewed on the corner of his lip.
Sargent sighed and shifted in his seat. "We don't know how many men or guns. But enough that they feel sure they can make me back down. And at least one man who will be there is a current student. I don't need to tell you – we can't let them have their way."
"Not if you want to have any authority on that campus," says Heyes.
"Exactly," said Sargent.
Curry looked very uncomfortable. "I feel for you, Dean. I assume you don't have enough campus security to deal with it. But Boulder ain't my jurisdiction. You need to go to the authorities there if you want an escort. I could take you to the edge of Boulder, but no farther."
Sargent fidgeted with his wire rimmed glasses. "The Boulder authorities know about it, but I don't want men in badges. That would make it look like I need help to keep order on my own campus. No, I'm not asking for force. That might mean men shot down. I prefer no violence."
"Of course, nobody wants anybody hurt, but then what do you want from us?" Asked the sheriff.
Sargent looked back and forth between the infamous partners. "I'm not coming to the sheriff of Louisville for help. I'm coming to Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes. I need creative ideas. I don't need to outgun Brown; I need to outsmart him. If we don't call in the cavalry, what can we do to get me in there safely?"
Heyes studied the fastidiously dressed Dean for a moment. "Hm. How well do you know Brown? Or more precisely, how well does he know you?"
"Not that well. I've seen him only a few times," said the Dean.
"How many times? And for how long?" Asked Heyes. Curry hid a little grin. He suspected he knew what his partner was planning. He hoped it would work.
"We've met maybe five or six times. For just a few minutes each." The college administrator studied Heyes in his turn. He started to guess at the plan himself.
Heyes slid off his partner's desk. "Good. I have an idea. Let's go to my office down the hall, Dean. We'll get this plan going. I guess we need to talk about school, anyhow. I can't imagine the President's hiring me to tutor without my talking to you."
Sargent stood, too. "That's right. We have plenty of time for me to do an interview with you this afternoon while we make our preparations for tomorrow. I really appreciate the help."
Heyes gave a half smile. "I'm glad to do what I can, Dean. As I guess you know, I have an appointment with the president tomorrow morning. So I need to head in that direction anyhow. I expect my partner has enough to keep him busy while you and I talk. I'll give you details later, Jed. Good luck with those cattle rustlers you told me about east of town."
Curry looked keenly at his partner. "Thanks. Good luck to you, too. Let me know if you need anything from me."
"Kid, can I borrow your saddle bags?" Asked Heyes. The Dean looked on, unsure what the partners were talking about.
"Sure." The Kid sighed. He knew what the plan had to be. "Sorry I can't be there with you guys tomorrow. I could maybe send a deputy, without his badge."
The darker of the two former outlaws shook his head. "No. One of those local rough boys might recognize Al or Billy. That would finish us. No, just the two of us is best. It's all we should need."
The Kid agreed. "Alright, Joshua. I'll get those saddlebags. You let me know what else. I guess a horse, a saddle, and a lariat?"
"Well, of course." Heyes' eyes sparkled with excitement. "Let's go, Dean. We have a Hannibal Heyes plan to perfect."
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
On Monday morning, as Kid Curry walked from the stable of his new hotel to the jail, he still carried his carved stick, but he hardly needed it any longer for so short a distance. And riding Blackie in from the Curry house to work no longer hurt his leg. Things were looking up.
As Curry was walking in his office door, a pair of scruffy, unshaven cowboys rode out of Louisville. The shorter, fatter one in a slouchy brown hat ran a hand over his stubbly cheek and scowled at the man in the black hat riding beside him. The man man in the black hat chuckled and urged his buckskin from a walk into a lope.
There were no classes at this time of year, but a crowd of nearly a dozen young men had gathered in front of the big, red-brick Main building that housed most of the University of Colorado. They sat on the steps and stood around the porch, leaving their horses staked out on the fields around the building. The boys, all their late teens or early twenties, looked ready to have some fun. There were grins on their faces and guns on a few hips. They kept an eye out, looking toward the center of Boulder, watching for something or somebody.
By and by a pair of dusty cowboys came riding toward the main building.
"What do you suppose those drovers are doing here?" A brown haired young man asked the tall blond who seemed to lead the group around the porch.
"I dunno. They're probably here to move that bunch of cows we saw grazing by the dorm building when we rode in. Stock grazes over there sometimes," answered Abimelech Brown, leaning a hand on the gun at his hip.
The taller of the two cowboys glanced at the shorter one, then the pair rode up to the group hanging around the front porch of Main. The lead rider pushed the battered old black hat back from his face and leaned his crossed arms on his saddle horn as he asked the evident ring-leader, "What's doin' boys? Didn't think anybody much'd be here this time a' year."
"Usually you'd be right," answered Brown. "But we're fix'n to have us some special fun today. The Dean, that little fat pansy, is coming back from out East today. The Dean is the one who fired me. We thought we'd give him a warm welcome and let him know that Colorado boys can look out for themselves, thank you very much. We'll teach him!" The rest of the young men laughed unpleasantly along with Brown.
The second cowboy wiped his sweating face with a spotted handkerchief, but his friend stayed cool. The lead cowboy shook his head. "If he's com'n all the way out here to teach Colorado boys what they need to know, it seems mighty ungrateful a' you to greet him that a'way. But it ain't no business of mine." While the boys around the porch stared at the pair of drovers in surprise, the cowboy in the black hat pushed his hat back down on his head, and led the other cowboy as they loped off past the building.
Or, actually, they didn't go far past it, but only gave that illusion to the casual watcher. In fact, they turned their horses sharply behind the building at the last second. They dismounted and tied up their horses to a newly planted trees behind the building. The cowboys tossed their saddle bags over their shoulders and went up to the back door, at the top of a steep flight of stone steps. As the cowboy in the black hat reached for the door knob, his nervous friend asked softly, "Did you have to ride right up to them like that?"
"Nothing succeeds like confidence," whispered the man trying to open the door. "And keep your mouth shut. If anybody hears that accent, we're sunk."
"Sorry." Whispered his portly, sweating friend.
"Damn!" Whispered the cowboy in the black hat. "Locked. You got a key?" He turned just in time to shush his companion with a finger to his lips. The second man handed the other man a shiny brass key on a leather thong. The man in the black hat took the key and shook his head. It obviously didn't fit this lock. The pair went back down the steps. The shorter one pointed silently at a door set under the back porch. The lead cowboy nodded and descended the flight of steps to the lower door, motioning for the man in the big brown hat to follow him. The man in the black hat tried the key again and sighed in frustration. This door was also locked and the key they had didn't fit in the lock. But the door's hidden situation left the former outlaw some freedom in how he dealt with the situation. He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a ring of pick locks that had been carefully padded to silence them. "Thank you Charlie!" He whispered under his breath as he unwound the padding and put it away. "Watch our backs, Dean."
The Dean, having learned his lesson, only nodded and did as he had been told. For Heyes to open the door hidden under the back porch of the main building took only a moment. The disguised pair found themselves alone in a dark cellar. "You know your way around down here?" Asked Heyes as he struck a match on the rough stone wall and looked around.
The death shook his head. "No. Sorry, Mr. Heyes. Abimelech or Johnny would, but not me. But I know where the door that goes down here is. It's over there someplace."
The pair was abruptly in the dark again as the match burned down to Heyes' fingers and he cursed and dropped it.
"Should we try to change clothes down here, where we won't be seen by the staff?" Asked Dean Sargent.
"In the dark? No, sir. Without a window or a lamp, we couldn't do a good enough job of it. We'll wait till we get to your office." Heyes was in charge of this plan.
"Alright, Mr. Heyes." The dean sounded uncomfortable.
"Sorry you had to shave your beard," said Heyes, remembering that the man he was ordering around was his new boss. "It'll grow back."
"But I'll look like a bum in the mean time," groused the dean.
"Better a live bum than a dead Dean," joked the master of disguise. "Those rough boys up there never even gave you a glance. You played your part well."
"And wore a big hat!" Chuckled the dean. "Thanks for the help, Mr. Heyes. And we'll have to thank your partner for the use of his old hat. Now let's see if we can feel our way to those stairs. As long long Brown and his gang don't spot us, I guess we'll be safe enough."
"Just embarrassed?" Asked Heyes as he lit another match. It soon went out, so they groped in the dark again, finding their way around piles of lumber, old desks, and coal. "Ouch!" He exclaimed as he tripped over something.
"Are you alright?" Asked the Dean anxiously in the total darkness.
Heyes picked himself up and rubbed a bruised knee. "Fine. I just found the steps. Keep playing the strong, silent cowboy when we get up stairs and we both might survive with our dignity in tact. I know that's important for the authority of a professor or a dean. If we're asked what we're doing here, I'll say we're looking for work. But I hope nobody asks."
"Me, too," said Sargent as they felt their way cautiously up the stairs.
As soon as the dusty pair emerged into the gleamingly clean halls of the main floor, Heyes was striding along bowlegged as any old cow hand, staring around as if he had never been in a fine building like this in his life. When Dean Sargent began tip-toeing behind him, Heyes looked around at him reproachfully. The Dean tried to imitate Heyes' casual gait, but found it a challenge. The dean had already told Heyes where his office was, so the former outlaw found his way down the glossy wooden floor of the hall without further guidance.
They had nearly reached the dean's office near the front of the building when a middle-aged lady in glasses came briskly down the hall. She smiled at the pair. "What can I do do for you gentlemen?" She asked politely.
Heyes swept off his hat and held it in his hand humbly. The dean kept his big hat on, having been instructed by Heyes not to remove it for any reason in front of anyone who might know him. He had to endure looking both ignorant and rude. Heyes was the one who spoke up. "We're a'lookin for the dean's office, Ma'am." Said Heyes in his best back country accent. "We done heard he might have some day work for a good man or two."
"Oh, I see," said the lady without surprise. This time of year there was often more heavy work to be accomplished by semester's beginning than one man could do, so there was nothing unusual about having non academics on campus in search of employment. "His office is right there." She pointed to the next door in the hall. The Dean's name and title were lettered on the frosted glass in the door, but she pointed very plainly, realizing that such men might be illiterate.
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Heyes while the dean gawped as if he had never seen a woman in his life. When the lady had started up the stairs to the next floor, Heyes unobtrusively and quickly used the dean's key to let them into the Dean's office.
"Whew! We made it!" Dean Sargent breathed in relief as he collapsed into his desk chair. "Good job, Heyes."
The former outlaw smiled. "Glad to help, Dean. Let's get changed. I brought a little water so we can get the dust off." He pulled a hip flask, a bar of soap, and a white rag out of his saddle bags. "Do you have a mirror?"
The two men changed into suits. They combed their hair in the dean's tiny shaving mirror and Heyes wiped away his burnt cork stubble makeup. But the dean's face was still too stubbly for his taste, since he insisted on growing his beard again. It would give better definition to his pudgy face, Heyes thought as he made the comparison.
"Gosh, I just can't get the wrinkles out." The dean brushed fastidiously at his white shirt front. "You didn't bring a flatiron in those capacious saddle bags, did you?"
Heyes chuckled. "No. It's a problem that's always hard to solve when you're playing dress up like this. The Kid and I learned to do some ironing when we could, but it does require an iron and a stove or a fire, at least. Thank goodness the wool suits don't wrinkle so badly as the cotton shirts do. I wish it wasn't so hot today, or we could cover up the shirt wrinkles with vests."
It was two transformed men who made their way to the President's office. "Sorry to look so crummy, President Hale," said the Dean. "Mr. Heyes snuck me past those rascals out there using a bit of disguise. He insisted that I had to shave my beard last night so I could look less recognizable and properly disreputable this morning. And of course I couldn't wear my glasses."
"Never mind, Dean," said President Hale as he rose from his desk chair to shake the hands of the two men. The bearded old man was smiling. "I looked out my window and saw you facing down Brown and his ruffians. It was impressive to see how they never gave you a second look, Dean. Those were excellent costumes, Mr. Heyes. And you should be on the stage, considering the quality of your acting. Thank you for getting the Dean here safely. It's a pleasure to have someone working with us who has your peculiar talents. I'm sure they will often come in handy dealing with our equally peculiar student body."
Heyes smiled and nodded to Hale. "It's my pleasure to do what I can, Mr. President. I had better go and let you two prepare for those meetings the Dean told me about. If you can just give me the contract you promised, Mr. President, I'll sign it and wait in the library until the Dean wants to leave. Unless Brown and crew have given up and left by then so he doesn't need me to guard him."
The dean and the president exchanged a sly grin and a nod that immediately had Heyes on edge. Without a doubt, there was a plan going forward here that had not been devised by Hannibal Heyes. When he looked back at the two men, their faces were very serious.
"Here is your contract, Mr. Heyes," said the president solemnly. "Be sure to read it carefully before you sign it."
The new tutor went into the outer office to peruse the contract, which was a much longer document than he had expected. Heyes looked up to see the President standing next to his secretary. "Do you have a question for me, Mr. Heyes?"
"Yes, I do," said Heyes in a strangled voice. "You've given me someone else's paper work. Where's mine?"
The President, sounding particularly satisfied with himself as Sargent emerged from the president's office to watch Heyes, said, "Oh, I assure you, that is the correct contract., Mr. Heyes. You will see your name on the back page. Your full name."
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Beth Heyes, Cat Curry, and Charley Homer sat on the porch of the Hideout, though the public didn't know the hotel's new name yet. The sign still said "Ross Hotel." They were surprised to see Hannibal Heyes riding into town much earlier than they expected, in his good suit. There was a look on his face that Beth had a hard time reading. He looked, she thought, stunned. "I think your husband is taller than he was when he rode off this morning," said Charlie.
"I think so," said Beth, standing to greet Heyes. "He's sitting up awfully straight. Sweetie, what are you doing here so soon?"
Heyes tied up his borrowed buckskin in front of the hotel and swung down. He tossed his saddle bags onto the porch and vaulted over the rail to join his luggage. "Darling, come with me."
He took Beth by the arm and led her into the elegant lobby. He took her to stand in front of a large mirror. He held her in his arms and pointed to his wife's reflection. "Do you know who that is?"
"It's Mrs. Hannibal Heyes, I think. Who do you think it is?" Beth sounded uneasy. She could feel her husband trembling slightly as he held her. She had no idea what was going on.
"That's Mrs. Professor Hannibal Heyes, that's who she is!" He kissed his wife passionately.
When Beth could catch her breath, she cried, "Heyes, that's not funny!"
"It surely is not," said Heyes, holding both of Beth's hands, "it's perfectly serious."
Beth objected, "But it can't be - it's too late in the summer and they don't have funding for a professor of mathematics!"
"Late it may be," said her proud husband, quietly so strangers in the lobby couldn't hear him, "but they've got money. A few days ago a patron they'd never heard of called them up out of the blue and offered to endow the chair. Permanently."
"Does the patron know who they want to hire?" Asked Beth, afraid to believe it could really be true.
Heyes assured her, "He does. The President said this patron knew all about me and I was fine with him. And it's not want to hire - it's hired. I signed the contract. It's in my saddle bags. I'll be teaching three classes each semester. They'll let me get away with teaching just two classes this semester, since it's so late and it's my first semester. All undergraduate classes, of course. My real title is instructor, without the PhD, like at any good school. But everyone will call me professor, as they generally do, except on the most official paperwork. Professor. Me!"
"Oh, Heyes, I can hardly believe it! After all that's happened!" Beth Heyes gave her husband a tight hug. Her eyes glowed with joy. "You seem so calm. I'm so thrilled I don't know what to do! Come on, let's tell everyone!" She took his hand and started to pull him toward the front door.
Heyes held his ground. "Not everyone, not yet. Cat, the Kid, Charlie, and a few others. But not the whole town. I want to keep it as private as we can until classes start, so maybe I can have a chance to get started with the students before they know about my past. It won't be easy to get them to take me seriously, I guess."
"Oh, that's why you're so serious. Thinking about all the angles – making your plan," said Mrs. Heyes.
"I guess," said Professor Heyes with a shy grin as he put his arm around his wife. They walked toward their friends and family. "I keep thinking I'll wake up and find myself in prison instead of here with you. And that amazing contract. It's a dream come true." He shook his head, disbelieving his good fortune. "Gosh, I can't wait to tell Charlie and Cat. And the Kid." Heyes squeezed Beth's hand happily.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Historical notes – I have jumped the gun a bit about the Methodist church – the first one in Louisville did not have its first service until 1892, the year after this story is set. Services were held in homes before that. There was a Catholic Church in town from the early days. The nationalities Curry cites in Louisville are accurate for the period, though he left out a few, such as Canadians. There is no longer a door under the back porch of Old Main at the University of Colorado. But a careful study of the wall around the current window frame clearly shows that there used to be a door there. The University of Colorado actually had a full professor of mathematics at this time, with a PhD. So I have changed things for my own purposes. By the way, we have met Dean Sargent before. Do you remember? If not, look back a few chapters. Well, over twenty chapters.
