[June 2016]

Word Count: 1872  

 

Chapters: 1 

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DO WE STAY OR DO WE GO?

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by

Eleanor Ward

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Curry's had enough of chasing Amnesty. Heyes wants to continue.

Will there be a parting of the ways?

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Hannibal Heyes sat astride his horse atop a rocky outcrop a couple of miles outside the town of Spanish Fork.  From his vantage point he had a good view over the surrounding landscape to the imposing Wasatach mountains in the distance.

The sun was dipping towards the horizon, the purpley-blue sky streaked with orange.

 

Heyes watched the colours deepen for several moments before pulling out his pocket watch and looking at it, his brow creasing in apprehension before putting it back into his pocket. With a sudden shiver of cold he pulled the collar of his jacket up higher around his neck against the chill wind that blew up with the onset of evening, while his eyes scanned the horizon. It was almost six o’clock, the time he’d told the Kid to meet him here, well not so much told as issued an ultimatum, and it was beginning to look as though he might not be going to comply.

 

It had been almost a week since they’d arrived in this small town in Utah after fleeing the town of Mount Pleasant where their identities had been exposed by a retired sheriff who’s town had been the victim of the Hole in the Wall Gang several years earlier. He had persuaded Mount Pleasant’s sheriff to get up a posse to try and run down Heyes and Curry and it was only by utilising every trick they knew that they had managed to shake them off their trail before coming across the small Icelandic community of Spanish Fork.

 

Heyes cast his mind back to the evening they’d arrived, tired, hungry and fractious following their arduous escape.  After checking in at the hotel, the Kid had vented his feelings about their ongoing amnesty appeal.

 

“How many more times do we have to keep doing this before the Governor decides whether to give us amnesty?” he growled as he hurled his hat angrily onto the bed.

 

“Look, Kid...” Heyes began but the Kid spoke over him.

 

“No, Heyes,” he snapped, holding his hand up, “don’t start with all that ‘we have to be patient’ crap.  We’ve been patient, for way longer than the original deal stated, and still the Governor keeps finding excuses not to honour his promise.” He shook his head disgustedly,  “Let’s face it, Heyes, we aint never gonna get that amnesty, they’re just stringing us along in the hope that we’ll stay out of trouble and they won’t have to give us anything.”

 

“I know it seems like that sometimes,” Heyes cut in, “and I confess I have had those same feelings myself, and if it was just the Governor we were relying on, I’d probably agree with you, but I don’t believe that Lom would support it if he didn’t believe the Governor would honour his promise, and I have faith in Lom’s judgement.  

 

“Lom can’t know for sure any more than we can.” snapped the Kid,  “He’s supporting it because he doesn’t want to believe that a man in the Governor’s position would renege on such an offer,  or that he could be gullible enough to be taken in by him if he did such a thing.”

 

Heyes didn’t reply.  He couldn’t, because those same thoughts had occurred to him on more than one occasion but he’d forced them from his mind not wanting to contemplate the implications of the Governor refusing to honour his promise.

 

“And,” the Kid continued venomously,  “if we do slide back into a life of crime, they’ll just take away the offer and lock us away for twenty years.  It’s a win-win situation for them, and a no-win situation for us.”

 

Heyes sighed, “Look, Kid, I know where you’re coming from, I’ve had the same thoughts myself, but what choice do we have?  If we quit trying, eventually we’re gonna end up in jail, or dead.”

 

“Dead’s not looking like too bad an option when you compare it to a life lived like this.” growled the Kid.

 

“You don’t mean that.” said Heyes, “You’re just tired. Let’s get a good night’s sleep. Things’ll seem better in the morning.”

 

“You’re right, I am tired," snapped the Kid, “and getting more tired by the day. I’ve had it, Heyes.  I’m sick of running. I’m sick of never being able to put down roots, have a family. I’m sick of living in fear.  I quit.”

 

“What do you mean ‘quit’?” Heyes asked, his eyes wide with dismay at the Kid’s words.

 

“What I said.  I’m sick of running. I don’t want to do it anymore. I quit.”

 

“And what do you plan to do instead?” asked Heyes, “Turn yourself in? Go back to outlawin’ ?"

 

“I’m gonna stay right here, find myself a job, somewhere to live, put down some roots and try and live a normal life.”

 

Heyes grunted,  “And how long do you think it’s gonna be before someone happens by and recognizes you?  Are you just going to give yourself up and let them send you to jail for twenty years?”

 

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

 

Heyes shook his head,  “You’re kidding yourself.  We can’t have a ‘normal’ life. Not unless we get that amnesty.  Maybe we won’t get it in the end, but we can’t give up trying for it until that day comes. We don’t have a choice, we have to keep going.”

 

“You can, if you want,” retorted the Kid, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Heyes studied him momentarily.  His face was set and Heyes recognized the look.  It was no use trying to reason with him in this mood.

 

“Get some sleep,” he told him,  “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

 

“I won’t feel any different in the morning.” replied the Kid, as he climbed into bed.

 

 

Coming back to the present, Heyes gave a deep sigh. The Kid had been as good as his word and despite Heyes employing his formidable persuasion skills, the Kid was resolute.

 

After two days of arguing over it, the Kid had all but stopped speaking to Heyes, cutting him off whenever he tried to bring up the topic and heading off to the saloon on his own.  During his time there he had become friendly with a local farmer who, on hearing that the Kid was looking for work, had offered him a job at his farm.

 

When the Kid informed Heyes that he was going to work for Sylvester Hughes, Heyes had finally lost patience.

 

“You’re crazy!” he told him, “You might think you’ll be safe here, and that nobody will find you, but that’s a slim chance, and you know it. And what are you going to do when somebody does recognize you?  Huh? Are you just gonna go quietly and serve your jail sentence?  You’d be an old man when you get out, assuming you survived that long.  I know you, Kid, and I know it would kill you being locked up like that, the same as it would me.”  He shook his head, “If you think you could do that you might just as well put a gun to your head right now and pull the trigger, ‘cause it sure as hell would be a better option than stagnating in a jail cell for twenty years.”

 

The Kid didn’t reply.

 

Heyes studied him.  His look was defiant, but Heyes couldn’t believe that his words hadn’t had any impact on him.

 

The next morning, as the Kid washed and shaved ready to go and meet Sylvester Hughes at his farm, Heyes said, “I’m leaving.  You might think this is what you want, but I’m not prepared to give up on the amnesty yet, and deep down I don’t think you are either.”  He put the last of his things into his carpet bag, stood up and turned towards the Kid who eyed him through the mirror, his razor poised halfway to his neck.

 

“There’s an outcrop of rock about two miles out of town, on the road to Springville.  I’ll be waiting there for you at six o’clock tonight.  If you don’t show up... well I guess we’re each on our own.”  Heyes’ eyes bored into the Kid’s  reflected gaze, pleading with him to see reason.

 

After a moment, the Kid lowered his gaze and began rinsing his razor in the bowl of water in front of him.

 

Heyes’ heart sank. With a minute shake of his head, he hefted his saddlebags across his shoulder and put his hat on his head before moving towards the door.

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Pausing in the doorway he turned and, towards the Kid’s back, said, “Don’t throw away all that we’ve achieved, Kid.”  When the Kid didn’t answer, Heyes left the room and closed the door behind him.

 

 

Heyes pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it.  Ten past six.  With a sigh he put it back in his pocket and looked up at the rapidly darkening sky with a heavy heart. Obviously his words had failed to impact on the Kid and he was going to stay.

 

Heyes pondered briefly on whether he should go back into town and try again to reason with him, before deciding he would be wasting his time.  He was either going to have to go back to town and go along with the Kid’s plan, which he knew he couldn’t do, or, do what he’d threatened and leave.

 

With a deep sigh, he pushed his hat further down onto his head and headed off the rocky outcrop down onto the trail, intending to head for Springville and a train to Porterville.

 

He’d only ridden maybe half a mile when his sharp ears picked up the faint sound of horses hooves behind him.  Slowing his horse to a stop he turned to look, one hand on the butt of his gun, in case the rider was a robber or lawman.

 

A few moments later, the rider came into view.  Heyes’ eyes widened when he saw the Kid in the saddle.

 

He slowed his horse and pulled up a few feet in front of Heyes.  Heyes eyed him, not sure what to say. The Kid eyed him back, obviously feeling the same way.

 

Presently, the Kid said, “You’re right.”

 

Heyes moved his head in an almost imperceptible nod,  “I am?”

 

The Kid nodded,  “A home, roots, family... it’s what I want... what I dream of...” He paused, shaking his head,  “I guess the dream took over for a while.” he finished, giving a sheepish shrug.

 

Heyes nodded, slowly, “I know.”  he said softly.   It was his dream too. One day, soon, hopefully. But not yet.

 

They eyed each other momentarily, each understanding more deeply the other’s feelings and the reasons behind them, before exchanging a small smile.

 

“So,” Heyes said presently, “do we stay, or do we go?”

 

The Kid turned to look back over his shoulder towards the town, obviously torn between his dream and the reality of their ongoing struggle for amnesty, before turning back to face him.

 

“Let’s go.” he said, beginning to walk his horse forwards, towards Springville.

 

Heyes moved his horse alongside and they broke into a trot, heading northwards into the night.  What the future held, only time would tell.

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-ooOOoo-

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