[September 2020]
Chapters: 2
Word Count: 19,430
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Warnings: Violence, Rape (mention of), Angst, H/c
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AN EYE FOR AN EYE
by
Eleanor Ward
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Heyes is attacked, in a case of mistaken identity.
Can he and Curry find out the truth and right the injustice?
* * *
It was a typical Saturday night in the saloon of the small New Mexico town of Deming. Tobacco smoke hung in the air and a piano player valiantly hammered out tunes, on an old, out of tune, piano to a largely unheeding clientele which consisted mainly of local farmers and businessmen as well as various cowboys and travellers passing through en route between El Paso and Tucson and the various other towns in between.
At a table in one corner of the room, a red haired man, Jake Gardner, sat watching the poker game going on at a table in the opposite corner, his attention focussed on one player in particular, a smartly dressed man with dark hair. That same man had relieved him of most of his cash at that poker table but that wasn’t the main reason for his interest in him. That had been raised by what he’d picked up from the conversation at the table, and at the bar, in the three days he’d been surreptitiously studying him. As he’d watched the man charming his companions at the table, and carousing with the saloon girls, suspicions, that had been growing in his mind from the moment the man had sat in at the poker game three days ago, had now become a certainty in his mind. This was the man he’d been on the lookout for, for weeks.
He tutted to himself, in disgust, as the object of his attention laid down his cards. Then, with a broad grin, the man reached over to pick up the wad of cash from the middle of the table before he stood up and, with a nod of acknowledgement, bid the others goodnight before crossing to the bar to join a fair haired man, wearing a grey suit.
Jake watched, sourly, as the dark haired man said something to his companion who laughed and slapped him on the back before pouring him a glass of whiskey and handing it to him.
After a few more drinks, the two men paid their bill and headed out of the saloon and across to the hotel. Jake picked up his hat and followed. He had overheard that two men were intending to leave town the next morning and he intended to be hot on their heels.
When he was sure the two men were safely in their room, Jake entered the hotel and went up to his own room.
“Eric!” he called, to a younger, red haired, man lying on one of the two single beds, the smell of alcohol in the room and the half empty bottle of whisky clutched in the man’s hand testament to a heavy drinking session. Jake shook his head, despairingly, as Eric turned bleary eyes to his. He kept warning his younger brother about his reliance on alcohol, but it fell on deaf ears. He chose not to chastise him tonight however, knowing that his drinking had been more medicinal, than social, of late, to try and drown out his pain and anger… The thought summoned up the image of the dark haired man from the saloon once more and he said, “They’re leavin' in the morning, and I want us to be right behind them. Can’t afford to risk starting any trouble here in town so we need to bide our time.”
Eric put down the whisky bottle and sat up as Jake continued to speak.
“Go and tell Hank and John to be ready to leave early.”
“Sure thing, Jake.”
Jake moved to pick up the whisky bottle and took a swig from it, as Eric turned and scurried out of the room to deliver his message.
* * *
Hannibal Heyes eyed his partner over the rim of his coffee cup, an amused grin on his face as Kid Curry, his elbow resting on the table and his hand propping his head up, yawned, widely, before shoving a forkful of bacon into his mouth.
“What’s so funny?” Curry growled as he swallowed the bacon and mechanically shoved in another mouthful.
“Nothing.” said Heyes, smiling and shaking his head, as he took a sip of his coffee, before returning to his own plate of bacon and eggs, “It’s just hard not to be cheerful on such a lovely day.”
“Heyes, it’s too early to know if it’s going to be a lovely day,” growled Curry, “Even the cocks aint crowin’ yet. Would you mind tellin’ me again just what is so important that we needed to get up this early?”
“Nothing at all, Kid, other than just the joy of livin’.” grinned Heyes.
Curry merely glowered at him across the table before shoving another forkful of food into his mouth. They’d spruced themselves up in their finery the previous night, and treated themselves to a fine meal at the best restaurant in town, courtesy of having money in their pockets after a recent cattle drive. Then they’d headed over to the saloon to play poker and entertain themselves with the saloon girls, and had got to bed pretty late, and Curry had been hoping for a lie in this morning.
“Couldn’t you be joyful just a little later in the day?” he said, sourly, “It’s not like we gotta be in Silver City on a deadline and another couple of hours sleep wouldn’t have made it any less of a lovely day.’”
“Boy, you sure are grumpy in the mornings.” Heyes teased.
“I am not grumpy in the mornings.” Curry protested, “This isn't morning. Morning is when the sun is up over the trees, and the stores are open!” He yawned and picked up his mug of coffee.
“The sun is up…” Heyes began
“Barely.” Curry cut in.
“…and this diner, and the livery, are open. In my book that constitutes morning.”
At Curry’s disdainful glare, Heyes held up his hands in mock surrender, “O.K. O.K, maybe it is a little early,” he admitted, “but I couldn’t sleep.”
“Fine, but you could have let me sleep.” Curry retorted.
“And then you’d have been complaining about missing breakfast.” Heyes countered.
Curry gave up. “You’re weird, did anybody ever tell you that?” he said, shaking his head resignedly and taking another swig of coffee.
Heyes merely grinned and nodded towards the Kid’s now empty plate, “You done?” he enquired.
Curry nodded.
They paid the bill and got up to leave.
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” asked Curry, as they headed back to the hotel to collect their belongings.
Heyes shrugged. “Dunno. Just restless, I guess.” he said, as they headed up to their hotel room.
Curry eyed him thoughtfully. After spending six weeks driving a herd of cattle up from Mexico, they’d spent a few days in El Paso, after getting paid, enjoying all the pleasures that the town had to offer, before Heyes had suggested it was time they move on. It was wise that they didn’t stay in one place too long, to minimize the risk of someone recognizing them, but Heyes had a restlessness in him that went way beyond just being concerned about being caught. He’d always been the same, even as a boy; always had a hankering to know what was ‘out there’. Curry, on the other hand, only moved on from necessity. If they weren’t wanted, and constantly being sought by the law, he would have been quite happy to settle down in one place and put down roots. It was something he dreamed about when, if, they got their amnesty. He looked forward to settling down, getting married, hopefully, and having kids, but he wasn’t sure whether Heyes would be able to do that, and it bothered him that he might lose his friend to his restless streak.
During their stay in El Paso, someone they’d got chatting to in the saloon had tipped them off about some work in Silver City, and this was where they were heading off to, today, after a three day layover here in Deming. It was only a two day trip, so why Heyes had gotten it into his head to leave quite this early in the morning the Kid couldn’t figure. He was sure Heyes had his reasons, but trying to work out how Heyes’ mind worked was difficult enough any time, let alone at this ungodly hour, so he dutifully followed Heyes across to the livery to collect their horses.
They’d been trotting along, in companionable silence, for some distance when Heyes said, “So, can I talk to you now?”
“Huh?” Curry looked confused.
Heyes pointed towards the trees up ahead, “The sun is above the treeline. Does it make it morning now?” he smirked.
Curry gave him a withering look and Heyes’ grin broadened, “I just don’t want you to bite my head off is all.” he teased.
Curry merely rolled his eyes, turning back to the trail with a despairing shake of his head, while Heyes started to chuckle, throatily.
* * *
‘Mary smiled into the eyes of her dinner companion as he asked her if she’d finished eating.
“Yes, thank you.” she nodded, watching him as he called for the waiter in order to settle the bill, scarcely able to believe she was here, in this fancy restaurant, having dinner with this handsome man.
As a poor farmer’s daughter, working behind the counter in the general store, she had been flattered when this handsome man had openly flirted with her, after coming in to purchase some goods, and had then come back on the next four days, on the pretence of buying something, to chat to her. Smartly dressed, charming and witty, she had been bowled over by his attentions and had readily agreed when he had invited her to dine with him at the best restaurant in El Paso.
It had been an incredible evening, the best in her life. She’d dated one or two of the local farm boys in the past, but never in her life had she been taken to dinner in a restaurant such as this, with a companion so handsome and charming. She smiled as she watched him settling the bill. His neatly combed dark hair, and trim beard and moustache, framed his slightly feline looking, but very attractive, face, his immaculate burgundy coloured suit perfectly offsetting his swarthy features. As he placed his black fedora on his head he looked every inch the Southern gent and Mary was once again overawed that someone as suave and sophisticated as him should show any interest in her.
“May I escort you home?” her companion asked, offering his arm.
Mary smiled, getting to her feet and, taking his arm, they exited the restaurant and began to stroll towards the rooms she occupied a short distance from the general store.
“I really enjoyed the meal, Mr. Smallwood.” Mary told him as they walked.
“It is a good restaurant. I come here whenever I’m in town.”
“And how often is that?” asked Mary
“Oh, I get down here every once in a while,” Smallwood replied, “When everyone’s had a chance to forget who I am.” he added, with a smile.
“Oh? Mary looked puzzled.
“I’m very good at poker.” he told her, “I’ve taken a considerable amount of money from the townsfolk here, so I like to leave a bit of time in between visits, in the hope of getting a fresh selection of people to play against. Makes for less trouble that way.” he added, “Some people take exception to being parted from their hard earned cash.” He removed his hat and pointed to a small, frayed hole in the side of it, “Someone tried to shoot me, after I cleaned him out at the table.” he explained. Luckily, he was quite drunk at the time, so his aim was slightly off.” he added with a wry smile.
“My goodness!” Mary’s eyes widened in astonishment.
Smallwood replaced the hat on his head, “I decided to hang onto it, for posterity.” he told her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town before.” Mary said now.
“I tend to be a bit of a night owl.” smiled Smallwood, “I’m not around town much during in the day, and I don’t think I’ve ever had occasion to come into your store before.”
“Well, I’m glad that you did.” Mary ventured, her gaze lowered in embarrassment.
“So am I.” Smallwood smiled down at her, a licentious glint in his eyes, “Very glad.”
Mary sighed, happily, “Isn’t it a beautiful evening?” she said, gazing up at the stars, shining brightly above.
“It certainly is.”
Presently, they arrived at the rooms she rented, above the barber’s shop, a couple of streets further on from the general store.
Mary unlocked the door and then turned, nervously, to face her companion, not sure what to expect, or what to do. Would he want to see her again, or would he just bid her goodnight and leave? Should she ask him in for a nightcap, or would that give the wrong impression?
Smallwood moved nearer and leaned down towards her. Mary held her breath, thinking he was going to kiss her, but, instead, he said softly in her ear, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” one arm moving to cup her shoulder and giving it a gentle, but firm, squeeze.
Mary drew in a shuddering breath, excited, but, at the same time, nervous. Dates with the local farm boys had never been like this. A quick, embarrassed, peck on the cheek and they’d all scurried off.
“W-would you like some coffee… or a brandy perhaps?” she ventured.
“A brandy would be very nice.” smiled Smallwood, urging her forward towards the door.
Mary opened the door and went inside. Smallwood closed the door behind him and followed her upstairs, where she lit the lamp and then moved to pour the drinks while Smallwood crossed to stand in front of the hearth.
“Here you are.” Mary joined him by the hearth and handed him a glass of brandy.
He took the brandy from her and tipped it into his mouth, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her body as he savoured the flavour and then swallowed it.
Mary sipped her brandy, feeling her cheeks flush under his penetrating gaze.
Putting down his glass, Smallwood reached out and took hers from her before pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
Mary was at first surprised, but then began to respond to his kiss.
Smallwood tightened his arms around her, the kiss growing deeper, a throaty groan of desire escaping him.
Slowly he began to press her backwards towards the bed, one hand moving to the bodice of her dress, attempting to unfasten the buttons.
Mary pulled back from the kiss.
“Mr. Smallwood, I---” she began, but Smallwood put his hand to the nape of her neck and pulled her towards him, kissing her once more.
“No…” Mary turned her head away, suddenly nervous.
“Come now, you didn’t think I was going to spend all that money on you without expecting a little something in return, did you?” sneered Smallwood.
“I… you…” Mary shook her head in disbelief.
“Don’t play the innocent with me. You’ve been flirting with me for days.” growled Smallwood, his handsome face twisting in sudden fury.
“But, I never meant—“
“You little bitch.” Smallwood cut her off, “Think you can get away with teasing me and getting me to spend my money on you? Well, I’ll show you. I’m used to getting what I want, and I mean to get what I want now.”
“No!” cried Mary, running towards the door, but Smallwood grabbed her arm, swung her round and delivered a backhand blow across the face that sent her sprawling to the floor.
Smallwood began to unbuckle the belt of his pants, his dark eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and desire.
Mary scrambled to her feet, blood oozing from a cut on her cheek. Once again she made a dash for the door, but Smallwood was on her in an instant, grabbing her arm and hurling her across the room, sending her sprawling to her knees, her forehead smacking against the brass bedframe. Momentarily dazed, she dropped to the floor.
Smallwood strode across the room, hauled her to her feet and threw her down on the bed.
Unbuttoning his flies, he knelt astride her, reaching down and ripping open her dress.
Mary screamed, trying to cover her naked breasts. Smallwood cuffed her across the face, stunning her, before ripping off the remains of her dress and her undergarments.
Coming to, Mary struggled, violently, as Smallwood removed his pants and positioned himself on top of her.
“No... stop…”
“Shut up!” he hissed, clamping his hand over her mouth to quieten her.
In desperation, Mary sunk her teeth into his hand, drawing a yelp of pain from Smallwood.
“You little…” he growled kneeling up and cradling his bloodied hand to his chest.
Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Mary shoved him sideways and then, raising a leg, pushed him off her, to land unceremoniously on the floor, before scrambling off the bed and making a dash for the door, careless of the fact that she was naked.
In an instant, Smallwood was behind her, grabbing her hair and dragging her across the room. Furious, he threw her onto the bed once more and climbed on top of her. Mary screamed, loudly.
Her last conscious memory was of a fist coming towards her face…’
Jake Gardner woke, abruptly, breathing heavily. He sat upright in bed and raked his hands through his hair. He’d had the same nightmare nearly every night for the last month, since his sister, Mary, had been attacked and beaten half to death.
Swinging his feet to the floor, he crossed to the dresser pausing, on the way, to shake Eric, still snoring in bed.
“Come on, git up.” he called to him, as he poured water to wash, “We don’t want to miss them.”
He finished washing and crossed to sit by the window, to watch for their quarry leaving, while Eric reluctantly got up and went to splash his face with water.
Presently, he sat upright, watching, as the objects of his surveillance exited the restaurant and walked back across to the hotel. Ten minutes later he watched them exit again, carrying their belongings and head off towards the livery.
“They’re leavin’. Time to get movin’.”
* * *
Heyes and Curry had been travelling for a couple of hours when they came upon a small stream and decided to take a break and let their horses drink.
Taking their canteens they retired to a grassy mound and sat down to drink.
Screwing the cap back on his canteen, Curry took off his hat and lay down on the grass, eyes closed, enjoying the mid morning sunshine.
Heyes eyed him with a smile, “See, I told you it was going to be a lovely day, didn’t I?” he quipped.
Curry opened one eye and squinted at him, his expression sardonic.
Heyes grinned, before screwing the cap back on his own canteen and lying down on the grass beside him.
They lay there for some time, in companionable silence, enjoying the warmth and the peacefulness of their surroundings.
Suddenly, a shot rang out, to slam into the ground six feet in front of them.
Both of them hurriedly sat up, looking anxiously around them for the gunman.
Curry made a move for his gun but stopped as another shot rang out, hitting the grass a mere three feet to his right.
“Don’t move!” a voice called, from within a clump of trees fifty feet away.
They exchanged anxious glances, wondering who the mystery gunman was. A bounty hunter possibly?
“Git your hands in the air.” the voice called.
They did as they were told.
“Now, with yer left hands, take out yer guns, slowly mind, and toss 'em over by the stream.”
Once again, they did as they were told.
“Now, lie down on yer bellies an’ put yer hands behind yer heads.” the voice instructed.
Exchanging uneasy glances, they complied with the instruction.
A few moments later, a small covered wagon came out from behind the trees.
The gunman broke cover and got up on the front seat with the driver and they rode across to Heyes and Curry, stopping about ten feet away.
Two men jumped out of the back of the wagon, while the gunman climbed down and stood a few feet away, keeping his rifle on them.
“Y’can stand up now,” the gunman told them, “but don’t try anythin’.”
They got up and turned to look at the face of Jake Gardner.
“May I ask what all this is about?” Heyes asked, in his most cordial tone, still thinking that these people had recognized them and wanted to take them in for the $20,000 reward on their heads, and was already preparing one of his tales, to try and talk their way out of it, “I don’t know who you think we are, but we’re two respectable citizens on our way to a job in Silver City.”
Jake looked at his two sidekicks, “Respectable citizens.” he repeated, sarcastically, before turning his attention back to Heyes and Curry.
“Well, I guess you might be,” he looked at Curry, “but you,” he glared at Heyes, “you sure as hell aint.” Glancing at the other two men, he said, “Eric, Hank, go git some rope to tie ‘em up with.” nodding towards the wagon, while Heyes studied the gunman’s face. There was something vaguely familiar about him, yet he couldn’t recall having met him before.
Heyes exchanged a puzzled glance with Curry, “And what makes you think that, Mr…?" he enquired for a name, but didn’t get one.
“Like ya even have to ask.” growled Jake.
“Well, yes I do, because, like I said, my friend and I are respectable citizens. I don’t know who you think I am but—“
“I know who ya are.” Jake spoke over him.
Heyes glanced across at Curry, confused. If this guy knew who he really was, why then did he not recognize Curry also.
“You do?” he said now.
“I do. You’re the low-life cretin I’ve been searchin’ fer this past month."
Heyes’ eyebrows rose in surprise, “I am? Why?”
Eric and Hank arrived with some rope and began to tie their hands behind them.
“Ya know full well why.” growled Jake. Then, turning to Hank he pointed at Curry and said, “Tie him to the wheel of the wagon, outta the way, I aint got no interest in him. This is the varmint I’ve been wantin’ to catch up with.” He glared at Heyes.
“I can assure you, I have no idea—“
“Gag ‘em both too.” Jake spoke over him.
“Look, I don’t know what you think I’ve done—“ Heyes began but was cut off as Eric took off Heyes’ bandana and tied it across his mouth.
Hank hauled Curry over to their wagon, and forced him to sit down on the ground while John, the fourth man, climbed down and helped him secure Curry’s wrists around a spoke of one of the wagon’s wheels before using his bandana to gag him with.
“So,” Jake glared at Heyes, “ya don’t remember the young girl ya met last month, who ya wined and dined an’ made her think ya was Prince Charmin’?” He raised a doubtful eyebrow.
Heyes looked blank.
“Slim, pretty, big blue eyes an’ long red hair? Like this.” He pointed to his own red hair.”
Heyes shook his head. If he’d met anyone like that he certainly would have remembered.
Jake’s face twisted with fury.
“Ya don’t remember my sister? The woman ya raped and beat half to death?” he growled at Heyes who looked taken aback. He usually only slept with saloon girls, who were only too willing to oblige his needs, and the few respectable women he’d slept with in his life he’d only done so with their consent, so he had no idea what Jake was talking about.
“Don’t play the innocent.” hissed Jake, “She described the man who attacked her… smartly dressed, aged around thirty, your height, slim build, smooth features, dark hair and eyes, wore a black hat, that had a hole in it…” He picked Heyes’ hat up off the grass and pointed to the hole in the front of it before tossing it aside, “She said he told her he’d won a pile of cash playing poker, that he was very good at it – like you!”
Heyes shook his head, while Curry listened with incredulity. The description Jake was giving him was compelling, but he knew Heyes would never do anything like that.
“She said he had a beard, but ya could easily have shaved that off since then.” Jake continued, “But everythin’ else matches. She said he was real charmin', in the beginnin'. I’ve been watchin’ ya. I seen ya chattin’ up the saloon girls, like a regular snake oil salesman. Like bees round a honey pot they was. An’ I’ve been watchin’ ya play poker. You’re good - so good I thought y’was cheatin’,” He shook his head, “An’ I heard ya tellin’ the bar keep you’d been down in El Paso, a month ago, workin'. That’s where my sister is. El Paso. That’s where she was attacked - just a month ago… By you!”
“Ungh!” Heyes shook his head again, trying to protest his innocence but prevented by the gag in his mouth. He now remembered where he’d seen the man’s face before - at the poker table on their first night in Deming. He hadn't stayed in the game very long, having played pretty badly and lost all his money in just a few hands, giving Heyes no particular reason to remember him.
“It was you who tried to charm her into bed, and then, when she refused ya, raped her an' beat her half to death.” Jake accused, “She can still barely eat, or talk, and is too afraid to go outside less’n her attacker comes back.” He stepped towards Heyes, his eyes blazing with fury, “I’ve been on the lookout fer ya ever since, and now I’m gonna make ya pay fer what ya did to her.” he growled, “An eye for an eye! Oh, I aint gonna kill ya, killin’s too good for the likes of you,” he told him, “but you’re gonna know what it feels like to do what ya did - I’m gonna show ya - and then maybe you’ll think twice about doin' the same thing again."
Heyes backed away, shaking his head, flicking his gaze across to Curry, looking bewildered and apprehensive.
“Ungh!” He tried again to protest. He backed into Eric, who had come around behind him. Eric gave him a forceful shove back towards Jake, who delivered a backhand blow to his face that almost knocked him off his feet.
Recovering his balance, he stared defiantly at Jake, blood trickling from a cut just above his eyebrow.
Jake swung another blow at him that sent him to his knees, tasting blood as his teeth cut into the inside of his cheek from the impact. Another blow knocked him to the floor, dazed.
Curry wrestled with his bonds, trying to free himself in order to help Heyes.
Eric delivered a boot to Heyes’ back, near his kidney, extracting a yelp of pain from him. This was followed by a hefty kick to the stomach, by Hank, that doubled him up.
Heyes curled up in a ball, as he tried to get his breath, but, grabbing the back of his Jacket, Jake hauled him back onto his knees.
“How’s it feel, eh?” Jake sneered at him, “Aint so much fun now it’s you on the receivin’ end, is it?”
Heyes shook his head, too winded to make any kind of verbal protest.
Jake, Hank and Eric laid into him again, kicking and punching him anywhere they could land a blow, while Heyes tried to curl up against the relentless onslaught, unable, with his hands tied, to protect himself in any way.
Curry, still struggling with his bonds, felt them begin to give and tried to wrestle his hands out of them.
Just before they reached the point where they’d beaten him into unconsciousness, Jake grabbed hold of the collar of Heyes’ jacket, dragged him to a large, rounded, boulder, a yard away, and threw him across it, while Curry looked on with anguished eyes, frantically working at the knots binding his wrists to the wagon wheel.
Unfastening his studded leather belt, Jake doubled it up and swung it forcefully at Heyes, hitting him in the back. In the light clothes he was wearing, it felt like someone stabbing him with a couple of dozen knives all at the same time. He let out a yelp of pain, wondering how much more of this he could take.
Jake passed the belt to Eric, who took it and swung a second blow to Heyes’ back, while Jake began unbuttoning his flies, ready to meter our the second part of his retribution. Heyes let out a howl of agony as stars floated before his eyes and a black mist began to engulf him.
Curry, looking on in fury, finally managed to pull his hands free of the ropes binding him. He remained still for a moment, as he sized up the situation.
Hank was standing a few feet to the side of Heyes, watching the proceedings with undisguised amusement. Eric and Jake were standing in front of Heyes, their backs to Curry. The fourth man, John, was standing a yard in front of Curry his arms folded, as he too watched the proceedings. Slowly, and carefully, so as not to draw their attention, Curry brought his arm round and removed the gag from his mouth. Then, in one fluid movement, he swung up onto his knees, reached out and pulled the gun from John’s holster, took aim and fired, hitting Jake in the shoulder.
With a yelp of pain, Jake lurched forward and then dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder.
“Freeze!” yelled Curry, as Eric and Hank made to go for their guns. They did as they were told.
Curry looked at John, “Tie them up.” he ordered, his blue eyes like ice as he glared at him.
With a scowl, John reluctantly moved to obey.
While Curry watched, John tied the other three men’s wrists behind their backs, Jake protesting loudly about the wound in his shoulder, and then he ordered them all to lie on the ground before instructing John to tie their feet. This done Curry quickly tied John in the same manner and then double checked that he’d tied the other men securely before tossing John's gun aside and hurrying across to Heyes who was still sprawled across the boulder, now unconscious.
Kneeling at his side, he slid him off the boulder and into a sitting position on the ground, propped against him, and removed the gag from his mouth. Heyes did not stir.
He leaned down to untie the rope binding his wrists before getting to his feet and carefully picking him up and carrying him across to the wagon, laying him inside on some sacks.
Next, Curry collected their canteens from where they'd discarded them and then fetched his and Heyes’ horses and tethered them to the back of the wagon.
This done, Curry retrieved his and Heyes’ guns from where they’d tossed them and crossed to where the four men lay on the ground, watching him with surly expressions.
Pointing his gun at them, he turned his icy gaze onto Jake’s face, “What’s your name?” he growled. When Jake made no response, Curry tightened his finger on the trigger, “I’m already having a hard time resisting the urge to kill you, mister.” he growled at him, “If you got a hankerin’ to stay alive, you’d better start answering me.” he told him, “I asked you your name.”
“Jake Gardner.” Jake reluctantly replied.
Curry leaned down and pressed his gun to Jake’s temple, “How do I know you aint lyin’?” he growled, tightening his finger on the trigger.
“I aint lyin’.” Jake croaked, nervously, “My name is Jake Gardner.”
“What’s your sister’s name?” Curry asked.
“Mary.” Jake replied, “But, if you--”
“You aint heard the last of this.” Curry spoke over him, before turning and walking away. Climbing up onto the wagon, he geed the horses and rode off without a backward glance.
He rode for an hour before stopping. It would take the four men some time to free themselves from their bonds, and, without transport, they would be unable to catch up with them any time soon. He got down off the wagon, went round to the back and climbed inside to check on Heyes.
Jake and his men had certainly done a thorough job. There were multiple cuts on his face, his nose bloodied and his lip split. One eye was swollen almost shut and bruises were already starting to come out. But, as bad as these looked, Curry was more concerned about the damage his body had sustained, after what he’d seen him subjected to.
“Heyes?” He called, softly, gently squeezing his shoulder, “Can you hear me?”
Heyes groaned and stirred slightly
“Heyes!” Curry said, more firmly.
Heyes groaned again and then lapsed back into unconsciousness.
Curry swallowed, trying to choke back the sudden lump that had risen in his throat to see his friend so badly hurt, and for no good reason. Jake’s description of his sister’s attacker did sound a lot like Heyes, but Curry knew Heyes would never do anything like that. Without a positive identification by his sister, Jake had no right to assume that Heyes was the culprit. If he needed confirmation he should just have taken him back to El Paso and let the girl confirm that he wasn’t her attacker instead of just taking revenge.
Curry climbed back out of the wagon and got back up on the front seat. He sat there for several minutes, trying to decide what to do.
Heyes needed a doctor but Curry didn’t want to go back to Deming. Once Jake and his men got free of their bonds they would no doubt head back there although, on foot, it would take them a fair while.
Silver City was still a day and a half ride away, too far to take Heyes in his injured state.
He decided to make for the township of Red Rock. With luck he could make it there by nightfall, and get Heyes some medical attention. He was glad that Heyes had won a fair amount of money in the saloon the previous night. Hotel and medical bills would eat into a good proportion of that.
Picking up the reins, he geed the horses and set off.
He stopped two or three times, to check on Heyes, but he was mostly unresponsive and Curry was concerned as to the seriousness of his injuries.
* * *
​
Darkness was just beginning to fall when Curry arrived in Red Rock, about thirty miles south of Silver City. It was only a small town, with a few houses and farms, one small hotel, one saloon, one restaurant, a blacksmith, a telegraph office, barber’s shop and a handful of stores. They didn’t even appear to have a full time Sheriff, which Curry was glad about. He didn’t want a Sheriff coming around and asking questions in case they were recognized.
He stopped at the blacksmith’s where he asked for, and received, directions to the doctor’s house, which was the last house at the end of the main street.
Pulling up the wagon, Curry stepped up onto the porch and knocked the door.
A few moments later a middle aged man with greying brown hair, wearing round spectacles, opened the door and peered around it.
“Doctor Johnson?” Curry enquired.
“Yes.”
Curry tipped his hat and gave him his warmest smile, seeing that the man was concerned at seeing a trail weary stranger on his doorstep and not wanting to give the impression that he was a troublemaker or a criminal, in case he refused to help them.
“The blacksmith told me where to find you,” he explained, “My name is Jones. Thaddeus Jones. My friend has been injured and needs urgent medical attention."
“I see.” the doctor replied, “I have a surgery at the back of the house. Can you bring him in?”
Curry nodded and went back to the wagon.
“Heyes, we’re at the doctor’s, he’s gonna take care of you.” he told him as he picked him up to carry him inside.
Heyes groaned with pain as he picked him up, but made no other response.
Curry carried him inside and through to a small surgery at the back and laid him on the bed.
“What happened?” Doctor Johnson asked when he looked at Heyes’ bruised and bloodied face.
“We ran into a man who mistook Joshua – that’s his name – for another man who had attacked his sister.” said Curry, deciding to tell the truth, “It wasn’t him, it was a case of mistaken identity, but he and his… friends refused to listen and decided to take their revenge.”
Doctor Johnson nodded, thoughtfully.
Curry helped him to remove Heyes’ clothes and covered him with a sheet, so that the doctor could examine him fully, shocked to see the extent of the bruising now starting to come out on his body.
Doctor Johnson shook his head and tutted numerous times, as he conducted his examination.
“How bad is it, Doc?” Curry asked worriedly.
“Well, aside from the obvious injuries to his face, he has significant bruising to his abdomen, kidneys and liver.” said the doctor, “He has a couple of broken ribs, bruising to the thighs, arms, shoulders, back, pretty much his whole body really.”
“Will he be alright?” Curry asked anxiously.
“Difficult to say. He needs bed rest, and he needs to be monitored closely. Injury to the kidneys and liver can have life threatening consequences. Depending if there is any actual damage to the liver or kidneys themselves, which may cause internal bleeding, it can result in swelling of the limbs, shortness of breath, fever, septic shock, death…”
Curry looked shocked at the doctor’s words.
“Will you keep him here?” he asked, worriedly.
The doctor nodded, “He can’t be moved, for at least two weeks, maybe more.”
Curry frowned, wondering how much that would cost and whether he would have enough money to pay for it, after paying for a hotel room and food for two or more weeks.
“I’ll get him cleaned up and then I’ll need to monitor his fluids and keep an eye out for blood in the urine, which will indicate how much, if any, damage has been sustained. Perhaps you’d care to wait in the front room, and I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“O.K, Doc, and thank you.” said Curry.
He went back out into the front room and hovered by the window, unwilling to sit down on the sofa in his trail dusty clothes. It was fortunate that this town hadn’t been too far to travel to. Heyes’ injuries were worse than Curry had feared and, if they’d had to travel much further, it was possible that Heyes could have died before they’d found medical help. Not that he still might not. Curry shook his head, a wave of anger washing over him at what Jake Gardner and his men had done to him and he determined to do everything in his power to find out who the real culprit was.
“You can come in now.” The doctor’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.
He followed him back into the surgery to see Heyes now beneath the bedcovers and clad in a nightshirt. The doctor had cleaned all the blood and dirt from his face, and treated the cuts with iodine.
“Will you be staying at the hotel?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” nodded Curry, his gaze fixed on Heyes’ face. He barely seemed to be breathing and even cut and bruised, his face looked pale.
“Mr, Jones, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Right. If there should be any deterioration in his condition I’ll send word to you there, but in the meantime, he just needs rest.”
Curry nodded.
“What’s his name?”
“Hmm?” Curry’s mind was elsewhere.
“Your friend. What’s his name?”
“Oh, sorry. Joshua Smith.”
“Well, I would suggest you go and get some rest yourself, Mr. Jones.”
Curry nodded, unwilling to leave his friend, but knowing he was in good hands with Doctor Johnson.
“You’ll send for me… you know, if…”
“Right away.” The doctor ushered him out of the room.
“I’ll be by to see how he is in the morning.”
The doctor nodded and ushered him out of the door.
He made his way to the livery where he managed to do a deal to trade in the wagon and horses, and boarded his and Heyes’ horses. The liveryman wanted $3 per week per horse to board them, which he agreed to offset against the purchase price of the wagon and horses. However much credit was left, when he decided to reclaim the horses, he would pay him the difference then.
Pleased that he hadn’t had to fork out any cash up front, he then headed up to the small hotel where he booked a twin bedded room at $5 per week. After stashing his and Heyes’ belongings he headed across to the small restaurant for supper, hungry after not have eaten since breakfast.
Breakfast. That seemed like years ago now, he thought to himself as he waited for his serving of beef stew. He remembered Heyes’ buoyant mood that morning, as they’d left Deming, prophesising what a lovely day it was going to be, a wave of anger washing over him again when he thought of how it had turned out.
His supper eaten, he retired to his hotel room. He was tired after a day on the road, but he didn’t sleep well, his mind full of worry about Heyes, and of possible ways to try and track down the man he had been mistaken for and bring him to justice, or, if Heyes should die, kill him.
* * *
After breakfast the next morning, Curry headed to the telegraph office. He had decided to send a wire to Harry Briscoe at the Bannerman Agency, to see what he could find out for him about Jake Gardner and his sister.
The wire sent, he headed across to the doctor’s office. The doctor hadn’t sent for him last night so he hoped that meant Heyes was doing okay.
A middle aged woman answered the door who, he discovered, was the doctor’s assistant. She led him through to the surgery where Doctor Johnson was tending to Heyes.
“How is he, Doc?”
“So far, so good.” replied the doctor, “No abnormal symptoms yet, although the next couple of days will be crucial, but he’s in a great amount of pain. I’ve given him a little laudanum to take the edge off. I’m reluctant to give him too much as that in itself can have a detrimental effect on the liver, but a little will help him sleep, and sleep will help him heal.”
Curry nodded, thoughtfully. “Has he been conscious?” he asked, concerned that, in a delirium, he might say something to give away their identities.
“Barely. He roused once or twice but was in too much pain to make any coherent speech.” On seeing Curry’s anxious expression, the doctor put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “He’ll probably sleep most of today, but if you come back tomorrow he might be a bit more lucid.”
Curry looked down at Heyes’ pale, bruised face, a wave of anger washing over him once more for the injustice of what had happened.
“If there’s any need, I’ll send for you.” the doctor told him.
“Thank you.” said Curry, before, with a last anxious look to his partner, he bid the doctor good day.
With Red Rock being such a small town, there wasn’t a lot to do. Curry browsed the few stores, and then ate lunch at the restaurant by which time he was thoroughly bored with his own company.
He decided to go and get a haircut at the barber’s shop, and after that he went back to the hotel and ordered a bath, soaking in it until the water went cold.
Dried off and dressed, he went back to the restaurant for supper and then headed over to the saloon for a few drinks.
The locals seemed friendly and one or two of them chatted to him as he stood at the bar, asking him where he was from and where he was headed to.
Curry tried to be as polite as he could without giving away too much, merely saying that they were heading to Silver City for work.
“We stopped off here as my friend was… taken ill.” he told them, in explanation of why they would stay over at Red Rock, which didn’t offer much in the way of work or entertainment for out-of-towners, “But we’ll be heading on in a few days.” Fortunately, apart from expressing their good wishes for his friend’s recovery, nobody questioned him as to the nature of said illness.
Not wanting to risk any further questioning, Curry bid them goodnight and retired to his room, where, tonight he was asleep in minutes.
After breakfast the next morning he headed to the telegraph office to find a wire waiting for him from Briscoe, advising that he would investigate Gardner and wire him back with his findings but that it might take several days.
Curry stared at the telegraph thoughtfully. A plan was forming in his mind, for what to do next, he just needed the information from Briscoe before he could finalise it.
“Any reply?” The telegraph operator’s voice brought him back from his thoughts.
“Hmm? Oh, no, no reply, thanks.”
Pocketing the sheet of paper he headed across to the doctor’s surgery.
“Good Morning, Mr. Jones.” the doctor greeted him with a smile and opened the door wider for him to enter.
“Mornin’, Doc.” said Curry, stepping inside, “How’s Joshua today?”
The doctor gave a cautious nod, “No serious complications as yet. A little blood in the urine, but not enough to indicate major organ damage, I don’t think. He had a reasonable night - I think the laudanum helped a little. He’s awake now, but still in a lot of pain.”
Just then, the doctor’s assistant came out of the surgery and smiled a greeting to Curry, who tipped his hat to her.
“Can I go through?” Curry nodded towards the surgery.
“Yes. I have to go out to a house call, but my assistant will be here to keep an eye on Mr. Smith. Don’t stay too long,” he cautioned, as he put on his coat, “Mr. Smith needs rest.”
“I won’t.” smiled Curry, turning towards the surgery as Doctor Johnson left the house.
The window shade was pulled two thirds of the way down, when he entered the surgery, and Curry had to pause a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light after the brightness in the other room.
He crossed to the bed. Heyes appeared to be asleep, but opened his eyes as he heard him approach. The swelling around his eye had gone down a good deal now but had been replaced with a dark purplish black bruise around his eye and cheekbone.
“Hey,” Curry smiled down at him.
Heyes lifted his forearm off the bed in response. Curry took hold of his hand and squeezed it briefly.
“How’re you doing’?”
Heyes’ eyebrows rose in a shrug, which was about the only part of him he could move without pain.
“Not... so… good…” His voice was barely more than a whisper as even drawing in a breath to speak was painful, “It… hurts… real bad…”
Curry nodded, sympathetically.
“They worked you over real good, but Doctor Johnson says you’re gonna be fine.” Curry crossed his fingers as he said it, hoping it was true, “But you’re gonna need to rest up for a week or two.”
Heyes moved his head in a vague nod. At the moment it felt like he would need two years, not two weeks.
“You know… it wasn’t… me… they were… talking about… don’t you…?” he whispered a few moments later.
Curry nodded, “Of course I do. I know you would never do anything like that.” He gave him a gentle smile, “You must have one of those… whaddya call ‘em… apple… dabble, no, doggle… dobbley-gangs?”
Despite how ill he felt, one corner of Heyes’ mouth twitched in amusement.
“Doppleganger.” he corrected him.
“That’s it.” smiled Curry.
Heyes gave a vague nod. From what he could recall of what his attacker had told him, the description of his sister’s attacker did sound a lot like him.
Curry’s expression grew serious, “I wish I could have got loose sooner, so I could have stopped them.”
“Not… your fault…” whispered Heyes, sucking in a sharp breath and screwing up his face in pain as he moved fractionally, sending daggers up through his abdomen, ribs and chest.
“I should go, you need to rest.” said Curry, seeing his expression.
Heyes shook his head, “Stay…” he whispered.
“The doctor made me promise not to stay long…”
“Just… a while…”
Curry gave him a gentle smile, “Alright. Just for a little while. The doctor’s gone on a house call. If he finds me here when he gets back, he’ll probably ban me from visitin’ you again.” he told him.
He pulled a chair over and sat down by the side of the bed.
“Where… are we..?” Heyes asked presently.
“Red Rock. It was the nearest place to come. Silver City was too far.”
Heyes gave a vague nod.
“What… happened…? How did… you get us… away from them…?”
Curry recounted what had happened after Heyes had lost consciousness.
“Thank you… I don’t want… to think… about what might… have happened… if you hadn’t got loose…”
Me neither, thought Curry, as he recalled Jake's intentions, but he didn’t say it out loud.
Seeing that Heyes was on the verge of sleep once more, Curry got to his feet.
“Listen, I’m gonna go, before Doc Johnson comes back and finds me still here. You rest, an' I’ll see you later.”
“O.K…” muttered Heyes, his eyes already closing.
Curry stood for a moment, watching him with soulful eyes, before quietly leaving the room.
* * *
Curry spent the next seven days dividing his time between the doctor’s office, the restaurant and the saloon as he waited for Heyes to recover.
Every morning he checked at the telegraph office for a wire from Harry Briscoe, becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of an answer from him.
It had been ten days since Gardner’s attack on Heyes and he was slowly getting better, although it would still be a while longer before he would be fit enough to travel.
The cuts on his face were healing well and, while the bruising was still evident on his body, the pain was getting marginally less every day and he was able to sit up in bed now, and breathe relatively pain free, although any sudden movements caused shafts of pain to shoot through his damaged ribs and took his breath away. He had foolishly attempted to get up out of bed a couple of days earlier, when nobody was there to try and stop him, and had almost passed out on the floor, but had managed to get himself back into bed before the doctor, or his assistant, found him.
As the days passed, anger and resentment at the beating he’d been subjected to, for no good reason, grew inside of him. Aside from an admittedly compelling physical description, they’d had no proper proof that he was the real culprit, and should, at the very least, have taken him to see the girl who had been attacked so that she could confirm or deny it instead of dishing out their own retribution. It enraged him to think that not only might they have killed him, if Curry hadn’t managed to escape and rescue him, but that the true culprit was still out there, free to do the same thing to some other unsuspecting woman, and, if that were to happen, he might be at risk of being the victim of mistaken identity a second time.
He didn’t say anything to Curry about his feelings, but, knowing Heyes as well as he did, Curry could see the resentment growing in him.
On the eleventh day, Curry finally got a lengthy wire from Harry Briscoe.
Rather than read it in the telegraph office, he went over to the restaurant and studied it over a cup of coffee.
Jake Gardner, it said, had two brothers, Eric and Michael, and a sister, Mary. All originally hailed from El Paso. Jake and Eric had served time in prison a few years previously, for cattle rustling. Michael, the eldest sibling, had not stood up for his brothers in court and, after their release, they had left El Paso, possibly having become estranged from the family, due to this incident, or, perhaps to spare them further embarrassment. There were no other arrests recorded for Jake or Eric and their whereabouts were currently unknown. Court records stated Michael’s occupation as ‘rancher’ but no details of where were recorded. There was a record of Mary Gardner having been attacked by an unknown individual, but nobody had been charged with the crime. Her whereabouts were currently unknown.
Curry digested this information, a plan forming in his mind. The only problem would be explaining it to Heyes.
Later that afternoon, Curry visited Heyes at the doctor’s surgery.
He was out of bed today, and sitting in an armchair by the window.
“Hey!” Curry smiled, pleased to see him on the road to recovery, “You’re up!”
Heyes smiled and nodded, "Yeah.” He was stiff and still in a good deal of pain, but it felt good to be able to get up and move about the room even if he had looked like a hunched old man as he did so.
“It’s good to see you’re feeling better.”
“Getting there.” Heyes nodded.
“Has Doc Johnson said anything about when he thinks you’ll be fit enough to leave here?” Curry asked.
Heyes shook his head, “He won’t even consider it for another three days, maybe not even then, depending on what his tests tell him.”
Curry nodded, thoughtfully, a slight frown creasing his brow.
“Why?” asked Heyes, noting Curry’s unusually distracted demeanour.
Curry came back from his thoughts and looked at him.
“It’s obvious you aint gonna be fit to travel for a while yet…” he began, pausing as he tried to think how to word what he was going to say.
“Well, not too long I hope.” replied Heyes, studying his friend’s face intently.
Curry nodded again, “While you’ve been laid up here, I’ve been doin’ a bit of diggin’, you know, into the story that guy told?” He risked a glance at Heyes who said nothing.
“I had Harry Briscoe look into it for me. Seems what he said about his sister was true.”
“Well, I’d hope nobody would go to such lengths for a lie!” Heyes cut in sharply.
“I was thinkin’…” Curry continued, his gaze on the floor, “while you’re here recuperatin’, I’d go find the sister, see what I can find out about the guy who attacked her, put out a few feelers…”
“No!” Heyes spoke over him.
Curry looked at him.
“No.” Heyes repeated more softly, “This isn’t your problem. It’s me who’s been accused, not you. I don’t want you going off on your own, nosin’ around and maybe getting yourself killed on my account.”
“It’s not safe for you to do it.” Curry countered, “If those guys see you again, there’s no tellin’ what they might do. Plus, this guy who looks like you, there’s no tellin’ what else he might have been involved in and if anyone who knows him saw you, they might think you was him an’ try an’ kill you. It’s safer if I go.”
“No.” Heyes shook his head.
“I don’t see that you’re in any condition to stop me.” Curry pointed out.
“Please, Kid… Give me a few days and I’ll come with you.” said Heyes, his eyes pleading.
“I just got through tellin’ you that it’s not safe for you—“ Curry began, but Heyes spoke over him.
“Please, Kid. After what they did to me, don’t you think I have a right to be there, if you find the girl… or the guy that attacked her? I want her to tell me to my face that it wasn’t me… and I’d like for the guy who did do it to be brought to justice. I don’t want to have to worry about something like this happening again…” he trailed off, an anguished look in his eyes.
Curry held his gaze for a long moment, before giving a deep sigh. He still thought it was a bad idea, but he could understand Heyes’ point of view. It would make it all the more difficult for Curry, however, because now he would have to look out for Heyes as well as himself, but he couldn’t disagree with his argument.
“Alright,” he said presently, even as his head was shaking no, “I still don’t think it’s a good idea, but… I understand your reasons.”
Heyes gave an audible sigh, “Thank you.”
​
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* * *
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