Originally
published in You, Me and the Governor # 23
This story
mentions original characters first found in 'Child's Play'
by
Dawnwind
No
moon shone in the night sky, the absence of any light making even familiar
landmarks indistinct and insubstantial.
Clouds scuttled across the stars, obscuring even those directional
markers. The hoot of an owl echoed weirdly.
The
two men stationed at the entrance to
Devil's Hole strained their eyes, guarding against intruders. On a night
like this, anything could happen. Even so, the dark clothed rider on the dark
horse wasn't seen until he'd almost passed beneath them.
"Don't
move." Lobo Riggs leveled his rifle at the rider. "Dismount."
The man on the horse slowly swung his leg over the animal's withers and dropped
limply to the ground. "What do you want?" Riggs asked, trying to see
the man's face under his Stetson.
"T'see
Heyes," the rider mumbled.
"'Bout
what?" Riggs asked cautiously. Few riders even made is this far into the
canyon.
''A
job."
"What's
your name?"
"Kid
Curry."
The
other guard, Kyle Murtrey, nearly fell off his rock perch above the path.
"Kid?" he echoed. "Lobo, Ah'll take care of it." He climbed
down to the trail. "Kid, it's me, Kyle."
"S'been
a long time, Kyle," Kid Curry acknowledged weakly.
"Mount
up, Ah'll take ya to Heyes." Kyle started to give Curry a leg up, for he
seemed almost too weak to mount on his own, but Kid pushed him away. 'Where ya
been, Kid, sinceÉ"
"Driftin',"
Kid said shortly.
"How'd
you find the entrance?" Kyle mounted his own nag, hidden out of sight from
the trail, and lead the way.
"Been
here before."
"When?
Not since Heyes took charge."
"A
long time ago, Kyle, a very long time," Kid's voice trembled, at the end of his strength. It was too dark
for either man to see the other's face, so Kyle had no notion of how much the
Kid had changed or why he sounded so tired.
They
dismounted in front of a weathered cabin, the Devil's Hole headquarters,
tethering their horses on a knurled hitching post. "Stay here, Kid, Ah'll
get Heyes," Kyle said softly
as he crossed the porch and entered the building.
"Heyes,
kin Ah talk to you?" Kyle spoke, trying to adjust his eyes to the
brightness of the kerosene lamp.
"What
is it? Why aren't you out on guard?" Hannibal Heyes looked up from his
detailed sketch of the Brooker 90-B safe.
"The
Kid, Heyes. He's here."
"Here?"
whispered Heyes, suddenly aware of a lump in his throat. It had been nearly
three years since he'd seen his best friend and cousin, Kid Curry. Three years
since the bungled, amateurish bank robbery gone wrong and the Sheriff who had
lain in wait for them. They had been four boys, the eldest twenty-two, and Kid,
the youngest, seventeen. The Sheriff and his deputy had opened fire, wounding
the Kid and capturing him. Then, Coal Martin and Kyle Murtrey had held Heyes in
the shadows of the trees, helplessly watching as the lawmen took the boy away.
"Kid?"
Heyes repeated.
"Yeah,
he's what we need, Heyes, a gun like his."
"I
know." Heyes nodded. "Bring him in."
"Kid?"
Kyle called out the door. "C'mere." When Curry walked in, Kyle slipped out, disappearing into the
inky night.
Kid
stood unmoving for a minute, blinking in the sudden light, then removed his
Stetson, and the brightness of the flame caught his sun streaked blond hair.
Heyes
stared. He hadn't been exactly sure what to expect, but Kid's appearance was a
shock. A recent beating had left his handsome face bruised and cut. A healing
gash curved over his right eye. The last time Heyes had seen his friend, he'd
been a skinny, long haired seventeen year old, not even fully grown. Now, he
was taller, sporting a scruffy, dirty blond beard and mustache, and looked
skinnier, if that were possible. He also looked ready to drop. Yet, there was
still the child like quality in his face that let him, at twenty, to pass for
eighteen or younger.
"You
feeling all right, Kid? You look bad." Heyes said, then regretted it. Kid
had always been too proud to admit weakness.
"I
came for of a job," Kid answered, "That's all." He gripped the
edge of a rough wooden table. Things were happening a little too fast.
"All?"
Heyes echoed, "Kid?"
"I
got a good reputation with a gun." Kid fought the unconsciousness that
threatened. "I can help with... security and I need the moneyÉ" He
swayed, barely managing to stay standing.
"Kid,
sit down. What happened?"
"I...
was in a f-fight." Kid slipped slowly to the ground. Heyes dashed around
the table to catch him before he hit his head.
"Kid,"
he whispered. "Please stay." He laid the back of his hand against his
friend's cheek. He was feverish, but his eyes opened again.
"I'm
fine, I just..." Kid took a deep breath, sitting up. "Had a long
ride."
"You're
not fine. Stay there," Heyes commanded, sprinting out the door and across
the yard to the bunkhouse. Half a dozen men were sprawled around a table, an
unending poker game in progress. "Doc," Heyes said. "I got a
sick man at the house."
"Who
is it?" Thomas Snow, known only as Doc to most of the
gang, gathered his meager winnings and
stuffed them into his pockets.
"It's-"
Heyes glanced around at the five other men. "Kid Curry."
"Kid
Curry?" The one man Heyes had expected to speak up, did. "He's
here?" Wheat Carlson demanded.
Heyes
nodded, "Wheat, I'll wanna talk to you in about an hour."
"What
if I don't wanna talk to you, Heyes?"
"Leave
it be, Wheat." Heyes said levelly, beckoning the white haired man.
"Let's go, Doc."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Snow
finished his examination by bandaging the gash on Kid's head. "Exhaustion,
malnutrition, a recent beating.
You've had a rough time."
"He'll
get better," Heyes stated, looking down at his cousin, wondering if he
even knew him anymore.
"Food,
rest-a few weeks worth." Snow poured a white powder into a glass of water,
stirring. "Drink this, it'll help the head ache I know you have."
Kid
obliged, begrudgingly. He didn't like Heyes taking over like this, treating him
as if he didn't have any say in his own life. That had always been one of the
troubles.
"Well,
we got a few weeks before the next job," Heyes responded heartily into
Curry's grumpy silence. "He'll fatten up."
"I
have to tell you." Snow looked from one to the other. "I lived near
Elmwood, Kansas in 1869 for a short while." He snagged an open bottle of
whiskey off the side board, and three glasses. "I remember a small robbery
that went wrong, pulled off by four kids. They caught the youngest, a little
blond boy who wore a gun like a man."
"I'm
not a boy any longer." Kid accepted a whiskey.
"No,
you're not." Heyes stared at him.
"What
happened after that?" Doc swallowed his liquor.
"Everybody
knows that." Kid gestured with his glass. "Heyes joined Big Jim's
gang, and here you are."
"Only
Big Jim ain't around anymore, and it's mine," Heyes added. "What
happened to you?"
"Ancient
history." Kid shrugged. "You didn't stick around to find out."
A
knife twisted in his belly, but Heyes tossed back his drink to cover his guilt.
"Coal said they'd go easy on you, he made me stay away." Got him
drunk and took him a whole state away, to be exact.
"And
you did," Kid said tightly. "You never came back."
"Ah,
Kid, Jesus..."
"But,
hey, Coal was right. Sheriff's wife patched up my leg, she couldn't believe a
little BOY like me could be mixed up in a bank robbery." Kid poured
another drink. "She thought I was a damn fourteen year old."
"Sent
you back to the orphanage," Heyes guessed softly, remembering how much Kid
had hated the place.
"I
healed fast and left." Kid wiped sweat off his feverish face. "I made
it on my own."
"Your
reputation precedes you." Snow toasted him. "Fastest
gun around, its said."
"He's
dirty, sick and beat up," Heyes pointed out. "But I'll promise you that
gun is spotless." He smiled fondly at the Kid. "It always was. He
could take apart a pistol and put it together before he could read."
"And
you'd sit there, playing poker with my brothers," Kid added. "And I
could read."
"Your
brothers." Heyes groaned. "Aaron, Sean and Michael."
"Don't
forget Ian." Kid poured another shot.
"Taught
us everything they knew. Stealing, cheating at cards, picking pockets . . .Ó
"How
many brothers did you have?" Doc asked.
Kid
held up four fingers before taking a drink. "And too many sisters."
The liquor, combined with the powder Snow had given him were taking effect. He
was drunk and didn't mind a bit.
"Colorful
childhood," Snow observed dryly.
"Kid's
mother was a crook." Heyes steadied the bottle over his glass, meeting
Kid's angry eyes. "But we learned what we needed to know."
"And
then they all died." Kid reached again for the bottle, but it was empty.
"Most of 'em, anyway." He slumped in his chair, hardly able to move.
"Go
to bed, Kid." Heyes pointed into the other room. "Take that one. Get
some sleep."
"I
second that." Doc helped Curry out of his chair and guided him towards the
bedroom before shutting the door, "You feel responsible for him," he
observed, sitting down at the table.
"Responsible."
Heyes laughed mirthlessly. "For him? Yeah. I always thought Kid needed a
chance, a chance he didn't have from the day he was born. And I just left him
there, alone in Kansas."
"You
can't go back and change that." Snow stood, shoving the chairs back under
the table. "And neither one of you are boys anymore."
"I
know." Heyes nodded. "Hey, Wheat," he greeted as his second in
command came in.
"Boy,
almighty cold out there. Ah sure hope we don't get a cold snap before the
job." Wheat pulled a cigar out of his vest pocket and raked a matchhead
across the rough tabletop. "What'd you wanna talk about?"
"What
do you think, Wheat?" Heyes waved him to sit down. "Now that Curry's
here, I think we're set. You an' me got to finish up the details."
"Kyle
said Curry is sick." Wheat said bluntly, letting out a stream of blue
cigar smoke.
"He'll
heal," Doc spoke up.
"I'm going to bed, call me if you need anything."
"Get
to it, Heyes, I don't wanna be up all night." Wheat blew smoke rings.
"When
did that bother you?" Heyes rifled through a pile of papers, plans for a
bank, a safe and a train schedule. "I need precision for this to work,
like a Swiss watch."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kid
came awake with a start, jerking out of a dream "Clementine?"
"She's
not here." Heyes rubbed a kink in his neck, stretched out on the other
side of the bed. "You're at Devil's Hole."
"Yeah."
Kid scrubbed sleep out of his eyes. "You've fixed the place up nice."
he said sarcastically, "Real homey."
"You
don't have to stay," Heyes shot back and regretted it instantly. Kid
hadn't been there twenty-four hours and
they were back sniping at each other. "Breakfast?" he said
brightly. "Jake makes mean flapjacks."
He
stuck his head out the door into the main room. Jake Keeny was stirring a large
bowl of batter, in front of the cook stove. "Got some made, Jake?"
"Be
a few minutes," the nineteen year old called. As the youngest member of
the gang, he was expected to do all the scut work. He was the only gang member
who could cook and, secretly, rather liked it.
"Heyes."
Dern looked up from his coffee, "Where's this Kid Curry?"
"Yeah,
Kyle said he's sick," Jake said, flipping pancakes.
Kyle
has a big mouth, Heyes
thought privately.
"We
don't need no in-valid up here." Lobo hunkered down at the table next to
Dern. "Why'd you let him stay if he's sick?"
"Lobo,
what the heck do you want me to do, leave him out in the cold?" Heyes
groaned. "Look, we need a good gun. He's fast and never misses."
"Pancakes,"
Jake interjected, handing out heaping plates.
"Yeah,
Lobo, you were sick last year." Kyle
had come in time to hear the end of the conversation. "We didn't
throw you out." He giggled maliciously.
Heyes
grabbed a plate, carrying it into the bedroom. "Breakfast."
Kid
ate swiftly and silently, wanting to preserve some sort of peace.
"When
was the last time you ate?" Heyes grinned, his dimples deepening in his
cheeks. "Did you even taste that?"
"Don't
start, Heyes, I'm tired," Kid sighed. Heyes felt his forehead.
"You've
still got a fever, too." Heyes said softly. "Kid, I..."
"Let's
not." Kid shook his head, then regretted it when the room swam for a
second. "We said things last night. It's done."
"Not
all of it was bad," Heyes spoke wistfully. "We had some fun."
"And
then we grew up."
"Yeah,
we sure did." Heyes ran the
back of his hand across Kid's chin whiskers. "You didn't used to need to
shave."
Kid's
blue eyes met Heyes' brown ones. "Is that all you're going to say?"
'How
'bout, welcome back, Jed Curry." Heyes stuck out a hand. "We didn't
get properly introduced last night. I'm Hannibal Heyes."
"How
do, Heyes." Kid grinned back in spite of himself, and shook his hand. "Now get outta here and let me
sleep. Doctor's orders, remember?"
"You're
gonna sleep for one hundred years like Cinderella." Heyes flicked the
blankets over his feet. "I know your talent for sleep."
"It's
Sleeping Beauty," Kid retorted into his pillow.
"YouÕre
the expert," Heyes patted his shoulder fondly, then left to let him sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night
had come again before Kid reawakened. He wandered into the main room where
Heyes was bent over the table pondering five poker hands.
"Nothing
really changes, does it?" He spoke into the silence.
"Gotta
keep up my skills, Kid." Heyes shuffled the deck. "The gang has a
continuous game going."
"As
if you don't win every time." Kid investigated a covered pot on the stove,
"Any food left?"
"Venison
stew. Bowls are in the cupboard." Heyes waited until his friend had served
up a bowl, sat down and started to eat. "Who beat you up?"
"Fell
off my horse," Kid answered flatly, eating stew. "He went lame."
"Kid."
Heyes grabbed the blond man's wrist. You came in on a horse."
"A
different horse," Kid clarified. "A few days ago." He jerked his
hand away, continuing to eat. "Heyes, what do you want me to say?"
"I
think you came here for a reason. D'jou need help?" Heyes insisted,
"Who beat you up?"
Kid
examined his nearly empty bowl, pushing the spoon around in the broth.
"Mike'l"
"Mike?"
Heyes echoed.
"My
supposedly dead elder brother," Kid said sarcastically.
"Mike
isn't dead? Are you sure?"
"Heyes,
I KNOW what my own brother looks like," Kid retorted. He and Michael Curry
bore a striking resemblance, but then all the Currys had. "I'm sorry, but
I've been running for months. I joined a gang last spring, an' didn't know
Mike'l was a member, too. But hey, I can be peaceable..."
Heyes
gave a snort of laughter, covering it by drinking coffee.
"Maybe
he canÕt, but I can. He's family.
I was surprised he hadn't died in Dodge like we'd heard." Kid
frowned. "He said it was Ian."
"You
all looked alike."
"Yeah.
I stayed out of his way 'til the job, figurin' I'd take my share and
leave," Kid sighed. "He and his friends, a bunch of unforgiving
Confederate deserters decided little brother didn't deserve a cut. So, after I
left, they followed." He closed his eyes tiredly. "They jumped me
once, but I knew better'n to carry the money on me. Found me again..."
"I
get the picture." Heyes picked up the deck, wanting to lighten the mood.
He shuffled the card deck. "Blackjack, anyone?"
Kid
took a shaky breath, rubbing his tight jaw muscle. "Only if you don't cheat."
"You
know I never cheat." Heyes dealt a card each. "Besides, you could
always catch me when I tried."
"Hit
me."
"Taught
you how to count off a deck of cards." Heyes continued dealing two more
cards. He had seven and a nine, sixteen. "Never could figure how you
learned to spot cheating."
"Mike'l
used to." Kid had a jack and a two, thirteen. "Didn't take long to
realize one of you was doin' something different. I decided his way was
wrong--Hit me--and it has been ever since."
"Twenty
one," Heyes proclaimed, laying down a five of hearts for himself. Kid had
a ten, which made twenty three for him.
"Least
ways, you didn't cheat."
"How'd
you get away from Mike the last time?"
Kid pushed the cards back. "Are we
playing for any stakes?"
"Whatever
you've got." Heyes swiftly shuffled, then dealt.
"Nothing
anymore." Kid caught an ace. "Mike'l took the money."
"Then
a few more answers." Heyes pushed a card across the table.
"Only
if you win."
"I
just did." Heyes flipped over his ten and jack, making twenty one.
Kid
stiffened, as if barricading himself against anything that might be too
personal.
"Just
as an opener, why did you come back?" Heyes started, bridging the deck
with his fingers. "I know this isn't your first visit, an' most people
can't find that pass into Devil's Hole in the daylight, in good health."
"So
I've been here before."
"Why
would you want to come back?" Heyes asked seriously, dealing another round
for blackjack.
"To
find some peace." Kid closed his eyes against the nagging fear that
Michael would come after him again.
"Here?"
"I
rode with Big Jim for a couple months, but McGregor--Hit me--his second, got
the impression that I didn't fit in, so I lit out for awhile." Kid checked his cards, he had nineteen.
"But I heard there was a new management."
"McGregor
told me you were a hot head." Heyes hid a grin, passing him another card.
"Calling
the kettle black." Kid grinned suddenly. "Twenty one."
"Feels
like old times." Heyes collected up the deck. "I never liked
McGregor, I threw him out after Big Jim went to prison."
"Shame."
Kid shook his head. "Big Jim was a good man."
"With
McGregor gone, there's an empty bed in the bunkhouse." Heyes' nimble
fingers fanned the cards, shuffled and shuffled again. "We could use a
good gun around here, permanent."
"You
think I qualify?"
"You're
the only one in the room." Heyes caught Kid's eyes. "I've been
waiting for you, Kid."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"One
razor, one towel--more or less clean, and your saddlebags," Heyes listed
as handed the toilet articles over to Curry. "Soap, etcetera is right
there." He pointed out a chipped basin of water with a dish of acid
smelling, yellow soap. "Are you sure you want to face the gang so
soon?"
"Heyes,
if I don't, I may get lynched." Kid inspected his dirty beard in the
cracked and discolored mirror. "I take it they're not too pleased to have
a boarder."
"It's
only been two days. Complaining is what Wheat does best." Heyes finished
his own morning ablutions. "But take it easy."
"Think
I look good with a beard?" Kid asked, fingering the razor.
"No."
"Why
not? Gives me character." He
lathered up the soap and gave his arms, chest and face a quick wash.
"It
makes you look like a little kid playing grown up." Heyes made up shaving
cream in a cup. "Shave it off."
"I
gave up doing what you told me to do a long time ago, Heyes," Kid flared.
"I don't have to join this half-assed gang."
"You
came to me, remember?" Heyes raised his hands defensively. "Other
than what I already said, I need you young looking."
His
hand with the lather covered shaving brush stopped in midair, "What do you
have in mind?"
"A
plan, Kid, a plan to rob a bank." Heyes grinned, his dimples deep. "I
want you to check out the bank, during working hours. Who'd suspect a blond
haired kid?"
"Heyes, I just may not shave it off because of
that," Kid groaned. "What makes you think I'd do that?"
"Cause
I'm asking you to."
"Asking?"
"Shut
up, huh? Shave it off!" Heyes
growled.
Kid
lathered up his face, and started to scrape off the beard. "Just wanted to
get your dander up, Heyes."
"I
KNOW." Heyes crossed his eyes in perplexion, making the other laugh.
"Heyes,
you cause me to cut my throat an' I'll cut yours before I die." Kid rinsed the foamy razor.
"Which
is worse, getting your neck cut by a relative or having it stretched by a total
stranger?"
"How
'bout getting beat up by a brother?" Kid said morosely. "I don't
think I can take his hounding much longer, Heyes."
"You
don't have to, you're at Devil's Hole." Heyes used the towel to wipe the
lather off Kid's face. "We're back together. We used to stand up to
Mike."
"Tough
guy," Kid chided. "And now you want me to defend you against your gang?"
He dressed in his slightly wrinkled extra clothes from the saddlebags, combed
his curly hair and strapped on his holster.
"Now,
there's the Kid Curry I remember." Heyes nodded approvingly. "New
gun?"
"Yep."
Kid hefted the shiny Colt proudly. " Mike'l gave it to me."
"Oh,
this has to be good."
"He
beat me up, took the money." Kid's voice was tight and hard. "So, I
waited 'til him and those Johnny Reb friends got flat out drunk. And I took his
gun and his horse and rode out fast." He smiled tensely at Heyes.
"Kid!
Now, he'll come after you for sure. Horse theft is a hanging offense!"
"He
stole it first. Let him hang," Kid said. "And I may have sent a
telegram to the Sheriff mentioning that." He opened the bedroom door.
"Let's go meet my new friends."
"Some
friends," Heyes muttered, wishing he could slam Michael Curry in the
mouth. Nobody deserved a brother like The Kid's.
Most
of the Devil's Hole Gang lounged around the corral in the morning sun, angry
and discontent at having to wait for their leader.
"Well,
well, well, the Great Kid Curry," Wheat said under his breath. The remark
was heard only by Lobo and Kyle, who laughed.
"He
does know a thang or two 'bout six guns," Kyle said. "At least when
he was younger."
"You
know him?" Wheat asked curiously.
"Went
on a job with him." Kyle nodded.
"Now,
Boys. I called y'all together to have a little parley about the next job and to
introduce the Kid," Heyes announced, "Kid is gonna be sort of like
the law around here. IÕm tired of all the grousing. So, he's gonna back me
up--the fatal way." Heyes knew Kid had never shot a human being in his
life, but he liked the gruesome sound of the threat. He shoved his hands under
his gun belt, glancing over at Curry. "Wheat is still my second and you
all know your own jobs. But I need
a lot more respect," he growled. "Any questions?"
"Yeah,"
Dern called out. "If he's so good, prove it. I ain't taking orders from
nobody."
Heyes
gritted his teeth. Of all the men, Dern was the worst rebel. He was WheatÕs
conspirator and always had some complaint.
"I,
for one, have observed Curry previously," Doc Snow claimed, "He's
well known for deadly accuracy, if nothing else."
"Well,
Curry?" Dern taunted.
His
hand faster than any of the men had ever seen, Kid drew his brand new gun. He
did a couple road agent spins, twirls and flips, then dropped the revolver back
into the leather holster.
There
wasn't a sound from the gang except for a communal sigh. Heyes repressed a
satisfied smile, flicking his eyes at his friend, but Kid's face was calm and
deadly impartial. He knew he was on trial and wasn't about to do anything to
influence the gang's wariness of him.
"Yeah,
but kin he shoot?" Wheat finally broke the silence. "All that
stuff's real nice for a wild west
show or somethin', but not for real life."
"Wheat,
he kin!" Kyle hissed. "Don't
youÉ"
Without
responding verbally to the challenge, Kid walked slowly off the porch. He picked up scattered trash from the
yard and set them up on the corral fence. A small bottle, a knot of wood, two
rocks and a crumpled playing card balanced along the rail. Then, with speed,
precision and astonishingly accurate aim, he plugged holes in each item,
including a perfect bullseye in the Ace of Diamonds.
"Now,
Boys," Kid drawled, turning to face the visibly impressed gang. "I
put on this show for only one reason, so you'll know what I can do. Me, I don't
hanker to go 'round shooting holes in everybody's midsections, but if any of
you gets out of step with Heyes ..." He let the statement dangle with a
question mark.
"Welcome
to Devil's Hole, Kid." Kyle grinned, as Jake offered Kid his hand.
"Ah, for one, am glad to have you around."
"Here,
here." Doc patted Kid on the back.
"Now,
I'd like to get to a discussion of the next hold up," Heyes began, his
face wreathed in smiles. "I've got a plan."
The
End