"You're the Kid Curry, aren't you?"

The Kid sighed, looked up from his soup, and into the face of a scowling middle aged man. He put down the spoon he was eating with, and sighed. "Well, my name's Curry and folk call me, Kid, but that's as far as it goes..."

"You killed James Bolton, and you've outshot plenty other men who claim a fast draw."

Kid shut his eyes briefly, then said levelly. "You tellin' or askin'?" Then he pointedly picked his spoon back up, and resumed eating. He was getting weary of this, it was happening in every third town he tried. Too many idiots with the idea that they could shoot, were deciding that he was fair game.

Sometimes he managed to put them off, by just drawing his gun faster than they could, other times, he ended up facing them across a dusty square, and after shooting off their holster left town, before someone else decided they wanted a go at him. But more times than he liked, he ended up having to hit their arm. He wasn't sure yet, how things would play out this time.

"Don't you ignore me boy, I've got quite a rep, and I don't want no snot nosed boy stealing it, by calling me out when I ain't ready."

Kid noting some reluctance, though no fear in the older man's tone, thought maybe he could avoid this getting out of hand, and stopped eating again, deciding to change his approach, so asked politely. "Look, Mr?"

"Mac Simpson, you've probably heard of me."

The name was of course familiar to him. Simpson had a reputation as a very accurate fast draw, who was happy, or at least had been a few years ago, to hire out his gun, if he felt the cause was a right one. He was not always deadly, but had never been beaten to the draw so far as anyone knew anyway. No one had heard of him recently, it had even been suspected he'd died, but here he was. Kid had no real wish to challenge him, and possibly add another more famous name to the growing list of who'd he outdrawn, because the reputation he had already, was tiring enough. "Mr Simpson, I don't want to steal anything, I just want to finish my meal, take a bath, maybe play a hand or two of poker, then go to sleep somewhere that don't make my ass ache."

Mac looked at him in surprise, his face flickering in some puzzlement. "You mean you ain't rocked up here to challenge me?"

The Kid shook his head. "No, Sir, I don't even know the name of this town, let alone who lives here. It was just the nearest place to where the cattle drive I was on ended and had somewhere to eat and sleep."

Mac sat down heavily, his face showing some relief, nodding over at the bar, where two men were sat drinking. "Bert, saw your name on the hotel register, and came running in here to tell Sam, and they convinced me you were looking to challenge me. I bin outta the business for a while, but that don't mean much sometimes, so I figured maybe you wanted to add another name to your tally."

Kid shook his head, thinking God no, that was really the last thing he wanted to do, his face must have told its own tale, as the man patted his arm gently and gave him a sympathetic smile.

The Kid sighed and glared over at the men, who were now watching them in some anticipation, their eyes gleaming, so he turned back to Simpson, and said quietly. "They're just hopin' for something to liven up their weekend. I'm figuring we oughta disappoint them don't you?"

Simpson smiled. "Well, I know they're a couple of walk-offs, so I shouldn't have listened to 'em anyway..."

Kid looked up at him in surprise. "walk-offs? I ain't heard that expression before."

Simpson laughed, then set out to explain. "Well, when the Good Lord was makin' men, he got a whole bunch of 'em all whomped up together and then He decided to knock off for the rest of the day, thinkin' He'd put the brains in later. But guess what happened? A whole bunch of them critters just upped and walked off 'fore he ever got back, and them two are living proof of that. So yeah, I should a known they were just trying to get me to do something dumb." He paused and added with a small smile. "Sorry to disturb ya, son. Have a good evening..."

He made to leave, but Kid suddenly eager for company, rested a hand on the man's forearm. "Lemme buy you a drink. I see you carry a Schofield, you can tell me why you prefer it to a colt."

Simpson gave him a smile, and nodded. "Be nice to talk shop, without worrying 'bout being shot. You got a deal. First round is on me..."

They were sat having a spirited but friendly debate about Colt vs Smith and Wesson, when the batwing doors of the saloon swung open. The man who entered was wearing a fancy black outfit, and sported an even fancier gun,nestled in a glitzy holster tied to his leg.

His eyes roamed round the saloon, looking for someone, they rested on Simpson and the Kid. The Kid tensed, but Simpson shook his head. "He ain't here for you..."

"Well, well, if it ain't MacKendrick Simpson. I heard you was holed up, hiding in some four horse town. Taken me some time but I found the right one!"

Simpson rested his hand on the Kid's forearm. "Now, there's another walk-off, but a dangerous one. Johnny Nash, you probably heard of him too. We met, when we worked together, a few years ago, out in the Dakotas. We were supposed to be helping some settlers defend themselves against the Sioux, but he was more interested in raping the squaws, and making a name for himself, so I chased him outta the county...guess he ain't forgotten or forgiven."

Despite only knowing the man for a couple of hours, the Kid had taken a liking to Mac, and had definitely heard enough about Nash to be worried about Simpson surviving the confrontation, so said quietly. "Lemme help..."

Simpson shook his head. "Won't do either us no good, you getting involved."

With that Mac stood, and faced Nash, his face serious, as he said calmly. "Lets take this outside, Johnny..."

"Be my pleasure, Mac, I got more than one score to settle with you.. I couldn't get another job for months, because of those lies you spread about me."

Mac shook his head. "You know as well as me, that they weren't lies..." He then turned back to the Kid. "Don't worry, son, I was faster than him before, hopefully I still am."

ASJ

Kid felt a bit itchy and unsettled, standing on the outside of a gunfight. In an attempt to distract himself, he looked round at his fellow watchers, and clenched his fists, when he saw the men that Simpson had named as Bert and Sam watching gleefully. "Ain't the gunfight we were expectin', but maybe this one will be more interesting anyway!"

He tuned the idiots out, and turned his attention to the men facing off, his heart in his mouth. Watching them, somehow he just knew, that this was going to end badly for Mac, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, except watch.

There was a dual crack of weapons, and one man swerved to the right, as the second fell like a stone to the ground and lay unmoving.

He heard a gasp from either Sam or Bert and a murmured. "Mac's dead...damn it all, he's dead."

Kid swirled round on them his anger at boiling point. "Of course he's dead! What did you expect to happen? Them to have a friendly little chat after shooting targets?"

The men paled, a little taken aback by his fury, and then exchanging a look, both started to shout. "Hey, Nash ain't it? This here boy, is Kid Curry..."

Kid stared at them, furious. "What the hell are you doing?"

Before he could get an answer from the men, his attention was caught by Nash, who shouted over to him. "Kid Curry eh? I heard of you...I think I'm in the mood for a little more of a challenge then ole Mac...seems age didn't do him no favours..."

Kid shrugged, and dropped into his shooting stance, anger making him impulsive. "I heard of you too, seems you like your women unwilling..."

"What did ya say, boy?"

Kid furious, noticed the bite in the man's voice, but didn't back down, and replied just as fiercely. "You heard me...want me to say it again a bit louder do you?"

The Kid felt the tension in the crowd ramp up, but it was too late now, so he blanked out the growing murmurs around him, not even heeding the small shake of the Sheriff's head, who was watching the situation intently.

"You better come over here and back that up, boy...if you dare that is."

The Kid bared his teeth, in a rough semblance of his usual good natured grin , and said calmly. "Oh, I dare..."

Before he could start to walk over, the sheriff caught his arm. "Mac was a friend of mine, so do what you gotta, and if he don't kill ya, you can walk outta here, so long as you leave, soon as its over, and if you don't kill him, he'll face the full force of the law, I promise you."

He shrugged off the man's arm gently, with a nod, took a deep breath, putting his best strut on as he strode over to Nash.

They faced each other, Nash with a smug grin on his face, the Kid making sure he was showing no emotion at all, which was obviously unnerving his opponent some. Nash begin to draw, the Kid took half a second to be impressed by how quickly he moved, but he was still faster, and drawing his weapon, managed to hit Nash squarely on his shooting arm, exactly where he was aiming, and as he holstered his gun yelled. "Man needs a doctor..."

He glanced over to where Sam and Bert were watching him, eyes wide, looking very much like the ugly fish, he and Heyes had caught in the river between their farms. "You two, get outta here, before I shoot ya too..."

They took one look at his angry demeanour and fled, the Kid glared after them till they were out of sight. A man who he assumed was the town's doctor came into view. He threw a pointed glance at the Kid, shaking his head, then walked quickly towards where Nash lay, still clutching him arm, but barely conscious. Finally the Kid's attention switched to rest on Simpson's body, and the anger that he'd been hanging onto, suddenly drained away. He shut his eyes briefly, and murmured to himself. "Damnit all, what have I got myself into now?"

ASJ

He was a few miles out of town, when reaction kicked in, and he pulled up his horse, suddenly exhausted, unable to think about travelling any further today. Moving slowly, his bones aching as if he hadn't slept in days, he set up camp.

He forced down some jerky, then sat, staring into the blazing fire, nursing a cup of rotgut, musing on what today might mean for his reputation, and didn't like the answers he came up with. Mac Simpson, despite vanishing for several years, had still been considered a very fast gun, and he'd outshot the man who'd killed him. The lesson he'd take from this, was that there was always going to be someone faster than him one day. The best he could hope for, is that it wouldn't be too soon. He knew that this would make the papers, and figured that Heyes would read about it, which was going to make for an interesting reunion, if he made it till then of course. He wondered if he died, whether Heyes would hear about it. He hoped so, as he didn't want his cousin to think he'd broken his word.

Despite his turmoil, he slept, though it was a restless one, full of dreams, and unpleasant memories, and he woke with the sun, his eyes itchy and his temper uneasy. Despite his lingering exhaustion, he forced himself to practice, when he woke, because the target on his back had just got bigger, he was sure, so he couldn't afford not to.

He was now seriously doubting the wisdom of his decision to leave Heyes, though at the time, it had seemed the best plan for them both. On the plus side, he now had a very good idea of who he was, just like he'd wanted. He laughed at that thought, though with little humour, because aside from one dead man to his name, and a reputation he could have lived without, he knew he really wasn't that different from the person who'd left San Francisco behind him . But he feared that with the stories being written about him, he might have some trouble convincing his cousin of that fact when they reunited. Maybe Heyes would be less keen to stay together now. He shrugged to himself, he still had several months to go, before he had to cross that bridge, so it'd do him no good to fret over it yet.

After cleaning his colt carefully, he slowly packed up his sparse camp, and as he rode out, he made a decision that left him feeling a little lonely. He would avoid towns, for as long as his supplies held out, because he wasn't ready to face another day that ended like yesterday had anytime soon.