EPILOGUE
Denver, Colorado.
October 1880
"See ya later," Kid Curry said as he and Hannibal Heyes approached the doors to the Golden Cinch Saloon.
"You're not coming in?"
"I gotta be somewhere else."
Intrigued by the ambiguous reply, Heyes eyed his partner curiously, "Oh yeah, where?"
"That's my business."
A saucy grin crept across Heyes' face and he punched his partner playfully on the shoulder.
"Found yourself a pretty gal already, have ya? You dog!" Then, having failed to get a rise out of him, he continued, "Go enjoy yourself. I'll have a few drinks, play a little poker." He patted his jacket pocket. "I aim to increase this some before we head back to the Hole." The Barren River heist had worked like a dream, and Heyes' substantial share of the thirty thousand dollar haul was just begging to be doubled.
"Remember to play it close," advised his partner before continuing on down the boardwalk.
"Don't I always?" called Heyes.
Curry glanced back over his shoulder. "Can't say I've noticed."
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
The following morning the two leaders of the notorious Devil's Hole Gang indulged in a slap-up breakfast in the opulent dining room of Denver's new luxury establishment, the Windsor Hotel; a clear indication of Heyes' success at the poker table.
"You fixin' on taking your nose outta that newspaper anytime soon?" Kid Curry enquired, forcefully spearing a piece of prime steak with his fork.
Heyes didn't look up from the morning's copy of the Denver Tribune. "Thought you was busy eating."
"I am but—"
"Hey Kid, look at this," said Heyes, folding the newspaper and thrusting it at his partner, a slender finger urgently tapping the print.
Without putting down the fork the blond gunman took the paper with his freehand and cast his eyes over the article.
DENVER'S OLDEST INN DESTROYED BY FIRE
In the early hours of this morning the Denver Pike Tavern
was burned to the ground. Although alerted promptly, the
Fire Department could not save the building, but did
prevent the conflagration from spreading to nearby
properties.
"Huh," he said, tossing the publication onto the table before returning his attention to his breakfast.
Both irritated and unsettled by Curry's lack of response, Heyes snatched up the paper and read aloud:
"Residents said they heard gunshots minutes before the
building was reduced to ashes.
It is thought that the tavern's long-time owners, brothers Merton
and Titus Flyte, were inside at the time of the blaze. Their bodies have
yet to be recovered."
After their hasty departure from Denver ten years ago, Heyes had pored over every newspaper he could lay his hands on for any mention of the brothers' arrest. It wasn't until six months later, however, when Silky came across an old copy of the Denver Tribune, that they learned what had happened.
The charges against the Flyte brothers were money laundering, fraud, extortion, and illegal gambling — not a word about murder, attempted murder, or arson. There was no doubt in their minds that the brothers' henchmen and crooked lawyers had intimidated anyone connected with the case, so that on the day of the trial the prosecution found itself with no witnesses to call upon, resulting in the case being thrown out of court.
At the time, this news had fired the Kid up so much that it had taken every bit of guile Heyes possessed to persuade him not to return to Denver to do something that would get him hanged. Throughout his late teens and well into his twenties this fire had remained, making Curry hot-headed — the smallest of things could get him started — and necessitating a verbal agreement between them that Denver was strictly out of bounds.
This agreement had lasted until news of the new Pierce and Hamilton vault in the city's Merchants Bank found its way to Devil's Hole. So tempted was Heyes with the challenge of a potentially un-crackable safe that he knew he could no longer stay away. And wherever he went, so did the Kid.
It had been Heyes' hope now the Kid was older, and presumably a little wiser, that he would not go looking for revenge of any kind, but this morning's news had his gut tightening, making him regret the decision to return.
"What time did you get back to the hotel?" he asked.
An off-handed shrug. "Dunno. Late."
Heyes shifted uncomfortably in his seat and swallowed a large mouthful of coffee before probing some more. "Were you seen?"
"Night porter gave me the room key."
"I don't mean at our hotel, Kid. I mean at the Pike!"
Slowly the gunman raised his eyes, his face unreadable even to Heyes. "I didn't do this," he said, levelly. Looking away, he added, "Can't believe you think I would."
"Well, you have to admit, you've got a pretty good reason," Heyes said defensively. "You and Billy were left for dead. If what's-his-name and his gang hadn't found you, you wouldn't be sitting here now."
Curry's jaw tightened visibly. "I fight fair, Heyes, and you know it," he ground out. "That's why I don't hold with back-shootin' and the same goes for burnin' a body to death. 'Sides, I can't be the only person in town with a grudge against them two."
A little ashamed that he could suspect his partner of cold-blooded murder, Heyes was quick to apologise. "I'm sorry, Kid," he said, laying an affectionate hand on his arm and feeling the tightened sinews through the blue linen shirt. "But, you can't blame a fella for wondering. 'Specially when the report says there were gunshots. Where did you go last night, anyhow?"
Knowing that Heyes would not let this go without an explanation, Curry sighed. "If you must know, I went to see Clementine."
"Clementine! I thought you went to a cat house."
"Just 'cause you got it in your head I was with some sportin' gal, don't make it true," grumbled the gunman. "The last time we saw Clem she said if we ever made it to Denver we should look her up. So I did."
Heyes huffed. "And just how did you do that?"
Curry poked a finger into his vest pocket, teased forth a crumpled piece of paper, and tossed it onto the table.
Snatching it up Heyes smoothed it out and squinted at the handwriting. "She gave you her address?"
"Yeah, why not?" Curry gave his partner a hard stare.
"Because I always figured it'd be me she'd want to come calling, not you."
If the welcome he'd received from Clem last night was anything to go by Curry highly doubted that was true, but not wanting the conversation to deteriorate into a juvenile squabble he continued, "Anyhow, I thought it would be nice if the three of us had supper together."
"Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"It was supposed to be a surprise." Curry's blue eyes rolled. "Which it clearly ain't now."
Heyes studied his partner's face for a moment, then satisfied that he wasn't being lied to the dark-haired outlaw smiled. "That's a real nice idea."
"I thought so. So, we're meeting her here in the lobby at six-o'clock tonight." Kid Curry drained his coffee cup, pushed back his chair and donned his hat. "That should give us plenty of time."
"For what?"
"To get across town and back. I want to see that burned out saloon for myself. You coming?"
Their time working at the Velvet Slipper had only been short, but it had made quite an impact on their lives; some of it good, some of it bad. And although he had never been on the receiving end of Titus Flyte's fists, Heyes also needed to draw a line under it.
Quickly plucking his black hat from the tabletop, he replied, "Lead the way."
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
The acrid smell of smoke hung in the air around the small crowd of onlookers who had gathered to watch officers from the Denver Police Department sort through the still smoking ashes of the Denver Pike. A couple of paces to the rear of this muttering throng stood Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.
"Well, I guess that's that," said Curry, turning to leave.
Heyes caught his arm. "Is that all you gotta say?"
"What do you want me to say?"
The last thing Heyes wanted to do was put words into his cousin's mouth so he stayed uncharacteristically silent.
"How about I take a guess?" offered Curry. "They got what was coming. That's what you want to hear, isn't it?"
"It's what I think, Kid. If we hadn't gotten out of that saloon..."
"No sense dwelling on it, Heyes. We've moved on a ways since then." Curry adjusted his hat, shading his eyes from the bright fall sunlight. "Anyhow, we don't have time to stand here jawin'. We've got work to do."
"Like what?"
The blond head dipped toward Heyes' ear. "Have you forgotten the reason we're here?"
"Of course I haven't," Heyes replied, irritated that his unerring memory was being questioned.
"Then we'd best get started. I plan to hire some fancy duds, take a bath and have a proper shave before we meet Clem tonight. May even get me a haircut." Indicating the dark locks laying on his partner's collar Curry added pointedly, "Looks like you should get one too."
Heyes pretended to consider this idea before a slow smile spread across his face and a sense of mischief wrinkled his nose.
"First we visit that bank, then I'll think about a haircut."