[31st December 2021]
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 6,199
​
Warnings: Angst-h/c, Character death
​
​
​
ENDGAME
by
Eleanor Ward
​
Heyes and Curry cross the path of a ruthless bounty hunter.
But has he recognised them? Is he trailing them?
The boys make a run for it, but can they escape his clutches?
​
* * *
The late afternoon sun shone down on the small Colorado town of Loveland. It was August, and even though it was only a couple of hours until nightfall it was still warm, the sky a cloudless blue.
Up on a ridge some miles west of the town, in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Hannibal Heyes sat on the ground, reclining against the trunk of a Ponderosa pine. Kid Curry reclined alongside him, his head resting on Heyes’ chest, Heyes’ left arm wrapped around his shoulder.
Three days earlier…
It was late afternoon as two riders arrived in Denver, dusty and trail weary after a day and a half ride from Georgetown.
They trotted towards the livery, surreptitiously scanning their surroundings as they rode, noting the name of the Sheriff, over the door to his office, and exchanging smiles when they realized they had no knowledge of him.
After stabling their horses, they carried their gear over to the hotel and booked a room.
“Bath first, or supper?” Hannibal Heyes enquired of his partner, after they stowed away their belongings. It was rare they could afford both at the same time, but after getting their pay for a job, in Breckenridge, a few days ago, they had headed on to Georgetown, where Heyes had swelled their finances at the poker table, before setting off for Denver.
“It’s not often we get the luxury of a choice.” Kid Curry acknowledged.
After thinking for a moment, he said, “I am really hungry, but I would like to get a bath.”
“Bath it is then.” smiled Heyes.
Later, bathed and with freshly laundered clothes, the two former outlaws ate a hearty supper at a nearby restaurant before adjourning to one of the city’s saloons for a couple of drinks before retiring to their room for the night.
“You gonna play?” Curry nodded to a poker game going on in the corner of the room.
“Nah,” Heyes shook his head, “I think I’ll give it a miss tonight. We’ve got enough cash to last us for a couple of weeks at least.”
They stood at the bar awhile, chatting. Curry contemplated going upstairs with one of the girls but then changed his mind, deciding he’d rather sleep after their long ride from Georgetown. There would be time enough for that tomorrow.
Suddenly, Heyes grabbed his forearm.
“Don’t look round, but I just spotted Ralph Inkerman at the other end of the bar.” he said, keeping his head bowed so that his hat would hide his face.
Curry’s eyes widened. Ralph Inkerman was a well-known bounty hunter, working mostly in Colorado although he sometimes ventured into the surrounding territories in pursuit of higher priced outlaws. He was known to prefer the ‘dead’ in Dead or Alive, believing it to be a lot less trouble than bringing in such criminals alive, since the bounty was the same either way. He was also known to be a crack shot.
“D’ya think he’s seen us?” whispered Curry.
“Dunno. If he has, he aint making it obvious, but I think we should hi-tail it, just in case.
“I guess.” Curry said, resignedly. So much for getting an early night, he thought dejectedly.
Putting down enough cash to pay for the drinks they’d consumed, they pulled their hats low down over their faces and surreptitiously made their way towards the door.
Once outside, they raced across to the hotel where they quickly gathered their belongings before exiting the building by the back door and hurrying to the livery, casting anxious glances behind them for any sign of pursuit.
Hurriedly, they saddled their horses and left the livery at a canter.
Just as they turned a corner, Heyes glanced over his shoulder and saw Inkerman standing outside the saloon and looking in their direction.
“Better get a move on.” he shouted to Curry, “Just spotted him standing outside the saloon, looking our way.”
“Don’t necessarily mean he knows who we are.” countered Curry.
“True, but I wouldn’t like to put money on it.” said Heyes, urging his horse into a flat-out gallop.
With an anxious look behind him, Curry followed.
Back in town, Inkerman smiled to himself before turning away and stepping off the boardwalk.
* * *
“We need to rest the horses.” said Curry, as they came upon a small stream. It was nearly midnight and they’d been riding hard for three hours.
Heyes nodded and eased his horse to a stop.
“Think he’s on our trail?” Curry asked as he dismounted and led his horse to the edge of the stream.
Heyes shrugged. “I’d like to say no, but my gut’s telling me otherwise. Inkerman does his homework. Anyone with more than a thousand dollars on their heads he has their descriptions imprinted in his brain, and once he’s got them in his sights he don’t give up until he gets them. He may have spotted us even before I saw him.”
“If he had, wouldn’t he have taken us prisoner then and there?”
“Not necessarily.” Heyes shook his head, “From what I hear, he’s a bit of a loner. He might not be too keen on causing a scene in a crowded saloon. Don’t forget, he has a reputation for preferring the ‘dead’ in Dead or Alive and some folks might not take too kindly to that. Better for him if he takes ‘em out on the trail, where there’s no witnesses and nobody around to question his actions.”
“Or to demand a share of the rewards.” Curry nodded acknowledgement, “Guess we can’t risk making camp then?” he said presently. After their long ride from Georgetown he was tired and didn’t relish losing a night’s sleep.
Heyes shook his head, “I don’t think we should. The more distance we can put between us and any possible pursuit the better.”
They exchanged weary smiles. So many times, since applying for amnesty, they’d been forced to flee town, and ride through the night in an attempt to avoid capture, it was almost becoming a way of life and the longer it went on the harder it got to deal with.
“I know you need your beauty sleep, Kid, but, better haggard and lined than dead, I say.” Heyes made an attempt at a joke, but even to his own ears it sounded flat.
Curry gave him a withering look. “You obviously aint looked in the mirror lately.” he growled before taking his and Heyes’ canteens and heading to the stream to top them up.
* * *
Once the horses were rested, they mounted up and set off once more. They rode at a slightly more sedate pace than before, so as not to tire the horses any more than necessary in case they should have to make a run for it later on.
They rode mostly in silence, preoccupied with their own thoughts, each casting periodic glances behind them to check for signs of pursuit. Both knew that if Inkerman had recognised them, and set off in pursuit of them, it would be difficult to shake him off. Rumour had it that, as a young man, he’d lived for a time with the Apaches and had learned their tracking skills and was able to track anyone over pretty much any terrain, and they’d left Denver in such a hurry their trail wouldn’t be difficult to follow.
By morning they’d reached the small township of Seven Pines, a few miles out of Boulder.
Here, they paused, trying to decide whether to risk going on to Boulder, or whether to buy some supplies here and then head further west into the more unchartered territory in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where there would be more chances to hide out in the heavily forested and rocky terrain.
“If he is on our trail, he can’t be more than half a day behind us. Maybe less.” said Heyes, “I don’t think we should risk staying overnight in Boulder. We’d be sitting ducks in a hotel. Maybe just get enough supplies to camp out for a day or two, and then head up into the hills?”
Curry nodded, thoughtfully. “Probably best. At least the weather’s good, so we won’t freeze to death sleeping outdoors.”
They headed into Seven Pines and picked up enough supplies for a few days camping out, and then set off in a northerly direction, passing through the township of Sugar Loaf and then heading on towards Caribou where they intended to make camp for the night, somewhere outside of town. Then, the next day, they would work their way north-eastwards, towards Loveland, Fort Collins and then, eventually, back into Wyoming, to Cheyenne.
Finding a suitable place to camp, a few miles outside of Caribou, they settled in for the night. Not wanting to risk starting a fire that might give away their position, they ate a cold supper washed down with water from their canteens.
They decided to take turns to sleep, just in case Inkerman should catch up with them, Heyes taking the first half of the night with Curry taking the latter. The sun rose with no sign of him however, so they broke camp and set off in a north-easterly direction towards Loveland, a day and a half ride away.
“Do you think we might have lost him?” Curry asked, as they rode.
“I’d like to think so, but I wouldn’t bet on it.” said Heyes.
Curry shrugged his eyebrows in acknowledgement.
Some minutes later, he said, “If he’s as good a tracker as they say, if he is on our trail then it’s only a matter of time before he finds us - unless we can get on a train somewhere… And if he finds us…”
“He’ll kill us.” Heyes finished the sentence for him, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.
Curry nodded. “Unless we kill him.”
Heyes turned to look at him now. Curry had only killed once, mostly in self-defence, and Heyes had never killed anyone. The thought of deliberately killing someone, in order to escape capture, or death, was something that lurked uncomfortably in the deepest recesses of both their minds, but neither had ever previously voiced it out loud.
“You know his reputation as well as I do.” said Curry, on seeing the anxious look in Heyes’ eyes, “Like you said, he prefers dead rather than alive. If he should catch up with us, he aint gonna be interested in just turning us in.” He shook his head, “It’d be a case of him or us.”
Heyes turned his gaze back to the path ahead, and swallowed apprehensively.
“Loveland has a freight depot.” he said presently, “Maybe we can hitch a ride on a freight train heading north.”
“Let’s hope so.” Curry glanced across at him, but Heyes kept his eyes fixed on the path, not wanting his friend to see his disquiet. He wanted to believe that Inkerman hadn’t recognised them and wasn’t trailing them, but his gut was telling him otherwise and he didn’t want to think about the consequences of that.
* * *
The man on the black stallion drew a few curious looks as he rode slowly down the main street in Seven Pines, his eyes glued to the ground.
Ralph Inkerman pulled his horse to a halt outside the Mercantile, where he dismounted and crouched down to examine the ground.
Straightening, he went inside the store, taking off his black hat and raking a hand through his over-long black hair before replacing it on his head as he approached the counter.
The store owner eyed the man. He didn’t recognize him as a local and the way he was dressed, and his demeanour, suggested either a gunfighter or a lawman.
“Can I help you?” the store owner enquired pleasantly, meeting the ice blue gaze of the stranger with a little apprehension.
“I’m looking for a couple of men. May have come in here for supplies.” said Inkerman, his dark moustache fairly bristling as he spoke, his steely gaze never wavering from the man’s face.”
“Oh?” the store owner croaked. He didn’t want to get anyone into trouble, but realized that non-cooperation with this man would not be wise.
“Uh-huh. One is slim build, dark hair and eyes, smooth features, around six feet tall, last seen wearing a navy blue shirt, fawn coloured jacket and tan pants. The other one is around the same height, similar build, fair hair, even features, last seen wearing a pale blue shirt, blue denim pants and a sheepskin jacket.”
When the store own didn’t immediately reply, he said, “I’ve been tracking them and their tracks show they stopped here.”
The store owner nodded, a sheen of perspiration coming to his forehead as the man’s intense gaze bore into him.
He cleared his throat, nervously, before saying, “Oh… yeah… Now you mention it, I do seem to recall a couple of strangers coming in, that looked a bit like that. They bought some supplies. You know, coffee, beans, hard biscuits, dried meat… enough for a few days camping.”
“They say anything? Like where they might be heading?”
“No.” The store owner shook his head, “They didn’t say nothin’ other than to ask for what they wanted. Seemed like a nice couple of fellas.” he added, with a nervous smile.
Inkerman’s lips twisted into what passed for a smile. “Yeah, they do give that impression.” he said, before tipping his hat and exiting the store. The store owner took out a handkerchief and began to dab at his face as he watched the stranger get on his horse and continue down the street.
Inkerman had hoped to perhaps get a clue as to where the two men were headed, in order to get ahead of them, but it looked as though he would just have to continue tracking them.
He’d spotted them as soon as they’d walked into the saloon in Denver but hadn’t wanted to cause a scene with so many people around and had planned to get them later, when they left. Unfortunately, Heyes had recognised him and the pair had hi-tailed it out of town before he could make his move. They probably thought they could lose him, up in the hills, but that was a vain hope. Heyes and Curry were good, he had to admit, that’s how they’d managed to avoid capture for so long, but once Ralph Inkerman was on someone’s trail their chances of escape were slim to none. He smiled to himself as he thought of the twenty thousand dollar reward he would get for the two of them. With that kind of money he could head down to Mexico and live in style for a good long while.
* * *
About fifteen miles west of Loveland, Heyes and Curry were setting up camp for the night, several miles north-east of Pinewood Springs, intending to head into Loveland the next day and try and hitch a ride on a train.
They hadn’t seen any sign of pursuit and were almost sure they’d lost Inkerman. Almost. Despite feeling confident enough to light a camp fire, to make coffee and cook a hot meal, both regularly scanned their surroundings and kept one ear open for any unusual sounds.
“I reckon we lost him,” said Curry as he served up beans and biscuits, the first hot meal they’d had in two days, “If he was ever on our trail at all.”
Heyes nodded, but didn’t reply.
Curry met his eyes as he handed him his plate.
“You don’t think so?”
Heyes shrugged. “I’d like to think so, but…” he let the sentence go unfinished.
Curry gave a deep sigh, before nodding in acknowledgement of his own fears, which he’d been trying to dispel. “Yeah. If only half of what we’ve heard about him is true he would have recognised us right off, if he saw us, and, if he did see us, it’s unlikely he’d pass up the opportunity to earn himself twenty thousand dollars.”
“He watched us ride out of town.” Heyes reminded him, “It’s a sure bet he recognised us. Given his reputation as a tracker, he wouldn’t need to come charging after us right there and then. Wherever we go, he can follow.”
“Except on a train.”
Heyes raised his eyebrows in a shrug, “I wouldn’t put it past him to even be able to do that too.”
Curry paused, with his fork halfway to his mouth, as he considered that, before once again scanning the immediate area.
“Maybe we should douse the fire once we’ve finished eating.” he said presently.
Heyes nodded, “Better take turns to sleep again too.”
Curry looked at him. “It’s only half a day’s ride into Loveland,” he tried to sound positive, “We’ve managed to stay ahead of him for two whole days, we can handle half a day more.”
“Sure we can.” Heyes gave him a half smile, “We might be fretting over nothin’ anyway. He might not be after us.” he added.
Curry nodded, but, as they met each other’s gaze, neither of them really believed that.
Heyes kept watch for the first half of the night before waking Curry to take over.
“Anything?” Curry asked anxiously.
Heyes shook his head. “Nothing.” He spoke casually but Curry could pick up the trace of nervousness in his voice, “Wake me at sun up. The sooner we get moving, the better.”
Curry nodded, and moved away a few yards while Heyes settled down to sleep. But sleep eluded him as his mind went back over their earlier conversation about perhaps having to kill Inkerman if they wanted to stay alive, and wondering if, if it came to it, he would be able to kill in cold blood. He sighed, thinking that he might soon get to find out.
It seemed like only a few minutes later when Curry shook him awake.
“Anything?” he asked.
Curry shook his head, “No. Don’t mean he aint out there though.”
“True.” Heyes acknowledged.
After a quick breakfast, they broke camp and mounted their horses, setting off in an easterly direction, scanning the surrounding area for any possible ambush as they rode.
They were high up now, the trail periodically opening out to reveal stunning views over the surrounding landscape, but both were too preoccupied with thoughts of pursuit to take in the beauty of the area.
On coming upon a small stream, a couple of hours later, they stopped to water their horses, adjourning to sit on a couple of boulders as they sipped from their own canteens.
“Pretty nice country.” Curry said presently, his eyes continuously scanning around for a sign of pursuit.
Heyes glanced around him, taking in the area properly for the first time.
“Yeah. Aint like Kansas, that’s for sure. Or Wyoming.”
Curry smiled, “I could live up here… nice and quiet, clean... fresh air...”
Heyes laughed, “You’d be bored to tears after a month, with no saloon or restaurant nearby.”
“You’re probably right,” Curry acknowledged with a grin, “But it might be nice to build a place, after we get the amnesty, somewhere like this, away from it all, to maybe come on vacation, go huntin’, shootin’ an’ fishin’ with nobody around to bother us...”
Heyes thought about that for a moment. “Might not be a bad idea at that.” he acknowledged, “Even when we do get amnesty, people have long memories and they aint gonna let us forget what we were in a hurry. We’d probably still be hounded by some folks who don’t think a leopard can change its spots. Having a place to call our own, somewhere isolated like this, where we can come and please ourselves what we do, might not be a bad thing. Would be a ready-made home too, if one of us were to get married.” He gave Curry a quizzical look, “Maybe we should start saving up our poker winnings. Then, when we get the amnesty, we could afford to do it.”
They exchanged smiles. Both knew it was something they would probably never get around to doing, but it was nice, occasionally, to dream of the things they might do once they were free men once more.
“If one of us was to get married, where would the other one live?” Curry asked, some minutes later.
Heyes thought about that for a moment.
“We’d build the house big enough so the unmarried one could have his own suite of rooms on one side, while the married couple lived in the other.” he said presently.
“We’d need some pretty big poker wins to be able to afford to build something that big.” chuckled Curry.
Heyes did some quick mental calculations, “Oh, I don’t know. We could raise enough money in a year or so, I reckon.” he said, a few moments later.
“Maybe. If we didn’t blow all our winnings on whiskey and women.” said Curry, exchanging amused glances with Heyes, who nodded, wryly.
“We’d better get moving.” Heyes said presently, getting to his feet.
Curry followed suit.
“How long before we reach Loveland, do you think?” he asked, as they retrieved their horses and set off once more.
“A couple more hours I reckon.”
They exchanged glances, each seeing their own feelings reflected in the other’s eyes. A combination of fear, that Inkerman might catch up with them before they got there, tempered now with hope, that they would reach Loveland ahead of him and make their escape by train.
The trail alternated between densely populated trees and large rocks and boulders, slowing down their progress.
Conversation between them was sparse, as they speculated on the odds of Inkerman catching up with them while at the same time concentrating on avoiding rocks and other debris, on the trail, that might injure their horses.
They were about an hour away from Loveland when Curry, who was leading, as there wasn’t enough room on this stretch for them to ride side-by-side, turned his horse ninety degrees, to swing around the back of a fifteen-foot tall rock.
As he cleared the rock two shots rang out.
Heyes, following behind, saw Curry pitch sideways out of the saddle to land heavily on the ground.
“Kid!” he yelled, spurring his horse forward, just as two more shots rang out.
In a split second, Heyes pulled his gun, twisted around and fired repeatedly towards where the shots had come from.
A return shot fired harmlessly into the air before Inkerman, who had stepped out from behind the cover of a large rock to fire at them, pitched forward onto the ground and lay still.
He had found the remnants of their previous night's campfire earlier in the day and, guessing they were heading for Loveland in the hope of catching a train, had pushed his horse harder in order to catch up with them before they arrived, circling around and taking up a position behind some rocks a short distance ahead of them. Though a crack shot, he knew of Kid Curry’s reputation with a gun and had preferred the safety of some cover to shoot from rather than risk taking on him and Heyes head on.
Heyes slid off his horse and ran to Curry, dropping to his knees at his side.
Curry was lying on his back, his face screwed up in pain, and a large red patch was spreading across his shirt.
“Kid!” Heyes ripped open his shirt, to examine him, his stomach turning over when he saw the wound in the right-hand side of his stomach. The worst possible place he could have been shot.
“Hang on.” he told him, going back to his horse and retrieving a couple of spare shirts, which he used to try and stem the bleeding and make a makeshift bandage.
“Kid. It aint too far, now, to Loveland. If I get you on your horse, we can get to a doctor…”
Curry shook his head, “No…” he gasped.
“What…?” Heyes looked up from tending the wound.
“No… Heyes… it’s no good… “
“You need a doctor, Kid, you can’t stay here, you’ll bleed to death…”
“A doctor aint… gonna be able… to help me, Heyes… I’m done for…”
“No!” Heyes shook his head, even though, deep down, he knew it was true, “You aint gonna die, Kid… You can’t… I aint gonna let you—“ he broke off as Curry put a hand on his forearm.
“Nothin’ you can do to stop it.” he whispered.
Heyes just stared wordlessly at him, his eyes full of anguish.
“Is he dead?” Curry asked now, turning his head in Inkerman’s direction.
“Uh… I don’t know… I think so...” Heyes briefly turned to look across to where their adversary lay motionless.
“Be sure.” whispered Curry.
Heyes held his gaze momentarily before, with a vague nod, he got to his feet and staggered over to Inkerman’s body.
He stood looking at it for a moment, too dazed by what had happened to recall his earlier doubts as to whether he would be able to kill him, if and when the time came, and too angry and upset to feel any remorse for having done so.
After confirming he was dead, Heyes hurried back to Curry.
“He’s dead.” he told him.
“Good. You’ll be safe now…”
“Kid, we’ve got to get you to a doctor. He can maybe—“ Heyes tried again, desperate to do something, anything, to try and save his friend, even though, in his heart, he knew it was useless. But Curry shook his head.
“No, Heyes… There’s nothin’ to be done…”
“But…”
“No... Heyes… I just want to lie here… and enjoy this… beautiful view…” Curry made an attempt at a smile that turned into a grimace of pain.
Heyes stared at him, fighting back tears. This couldn’t be happening. His lifelong friend and partner was dying, right here in front of him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to prevent it.
Eventually, acknowledging that Curry wasn’t going to let him try and take him to town, he said, “Alright, but let’s move you over here, out of the sun…” Moving behind him and putting his arms under his shoulders, he pulled him a few yards away to the base of a Ponderosa pine, Curry yelping with pain as he did so.
Once he’d made him as comfortable as he could, in the shade, Heyes sat down alongside him, leaning against the base of the tree. Reaching over, he put an arm around Curry and pulled him across to lean in the crook of his shoulder with his head resting against his chest, uncaring of the blood that seeped through the shirts he’d used, to try and bandage the wound, to stain his own clothes.
“Kid…” he began, but Curry spoke over him.
“We’ve always known this was likely to happen, Heyes… How many of those we used to ride with are still alive...? We’ve lasted a lot longer than most… because we’ve watched each other’s backs… If I hadn’t had you with me… I’d have been killed years ago…”
“But…”
“It’s O.K, Heyes… I’m not… afraid… I prepared myself… for this… the endgame-- death… a long time ago… I’m just sorry you’ll be alone now…”
“Kid—“
“…Better alone than dead though… I couldn’t handle watching you die…”
Heyes closed his eyes, shaking his head despairingly. Did he think it was going to be any easier for him to deal with?
“I’d swap places with you in a heartbeat…” he said, as tears forced their way through his lashes to slide silently down his cheeks, grateful that his friend couldn’t see them from where he lay.
“I know…” Curry reached out to grab Heyes’ free hand and squeezed it, “So would I, if it was the other way around…”
“I know you would.” Heyes squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep his voice controlled as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
“We had some good times though, didn’t we…?” Curry said, some moments later, his voice sounding weaker.
“We sure did.” croaked Heyes.
“Promise me… you’ll go on and get the amnesty… and live a good, honest life… for the both of us…”
“Kid, I--“
“Promise!” Curry said, urgently.
Heyes closed his eyes and swallowed hard before saying, “I promise.”
“I don’t… regret… the path our lives took… so don’t… beat yourself up about this…” Curry continued presently, “I know you’ll blame yourself… thinking that… it's your fault... for leading me into… a life of crime… But you didn’t... lead me into anything… it was as much… my choice too…” he trailed off.
“I never could make you do anything you really didn’t want to. ” Heyes acknowledged, hoarsely.
“Glad you… realize that…” muttered Curry, “You always did… try to… bend everyone… to your ideas… Even me… But you… didn’t need to… I would have… followed you… whatever it led me into...”
“Now you tell me! Pity you didn’t tell me that earlier. Could have saved myself a lot of aggravation.” Heyes made a weak attempt at indignance.
Curry smiled to himself, as he stared down the ridge to the valley below. There were worse ways to die than this, he acknowledged. Having always believed he would die either in a bloody gun battle in some no-name town, or while locked away in a prison cell, alone, this was more than he would have expected, and everything he could have hoped for. A brief wave of bitterness washed over him, for the years he would now no longer have, but quickly dissipated. He’d lived for years beyond the expected lifespan of a gunfighter, he was in a beautiful, peaceful location with his closest friend by his side and, soon, he would see his family once more. Yes, if he had to die, this was the best death he could have wished for.
“I enjoyed… watching your… silver tongue… at work…” he said now, in response to Heyes’ comment.
“Hmmph!” Heyes grunted, in mock indignance, causing Curry to laugh, softly, before screwing up his face in pain, the laugh turning into a groan. His insides felt like they were on fire, as if someone had pushed a dozen red hot pokers into him, and he felt both hot and cold at the same time.
Heyes choked down the sob that rose in his throat. There was so much more he wanted, needed, to say to him but he couldn’t find the words. How did you convey your feelings about a lifetime’s friendship in just a few moments? How much that relationship meant to you, how valued that person was and how much you loved them? How did you say goodbye to the person who’d stood by your side, in good times and bad, risking their life on a daily basis to keep you alive, asking neither payment nor reward? For once, Hannibal Heyes was lost for words, his silver tongue turned to lead. But he knew his friend would know anyway. They’d been together so long they could practically read each other’s minds. There was no need to physically say the words. So he just sat, holding him, silently raging against the circumstances that had brought them to this moment. One more hour and they would have reached Loveland and made their escape! The thought incensed him, even as he countered it with the knowledge that they’d outrun capture or death for far longer than anyone would have expected given the fact that the law was hunting them. As Curry had said, the odds on this happening had grown shorter with every passing day, and, today, their luck had finally run out.
Curry grew quiet a little while later, his breathing becoming more laboured. Heyes continued to cradle him against his shoulder, holding tightly to his hand.
​
Birds twittered, merrily, in the nearby trees and the sun shone brightly in a cloudless blue sky. A soft breeze blew, tempering the afternoon heat and softly rustling the leaves. It was a beautiful day. A day to be enjoyed, to be lived to the full. Not a day for death. Heyes shook his head, still incensed by what had happened and consumed with grief at his inability to change the ultimate outcome.
“Heyes…” Curry whispered, some time later, the sound barely audible coming, as it did, on an exhale of breath.
“It’s O.K… I’m here.” Heyes told him, receiving a faint squeeze from his friend’s hand, in acknowledgement, instead of a verbal reply. He felt helpless, and hopeless, and prayed that his presence was enough to give him comfort as he faced the journey to the afterlife.
The afternoon shadows lengthened as the sun made its way towards the west. Curry hadn’t spoken in more than an hour, and barely seemed to be breathing, but his hand still held tightly to Heyes’ and he, in turn, reciprocated, wanting to keep that connection between them for as long as possible.
The sun was past the western treeline when Heyes felt Curry’s body go limp, and his grip on his hand release. He was gone.
He made no attempt to move, but continued to sit there, holding his hand, tears damp on his face, bereft at the loss of his friend but knowing it wouldn’t be long before he would hopefully see him again.
What he hadn’t told him was that one of Inkerman’s bullets had struck him too, in the back. He could probably have saved himself if he’d headed into Loveland for treatment straight away, but that would have meant leaving Curry to die alone and not only did he have no intention of doing that, but any desire he might have had to continue on with his own life had died in the face of losing his friend. So he’d stayed at his side, allowing his own life blood to drain away in order to make his friend’s passing easier.
Heyes was glad he hadn’t told him. It was better that he had died believing he would go on to better things, get amnesty and make a success of his life. In his position, Heyes would have wanted to believe that for Curry too.
He glanced over at Inkerman’s body, some distance away. After his concerns about whether or not he would be able to kill in cold blood, in order to escape, in the end he had reacted instinctively, and with deadly accuracy, after seeing Curry get shot. He wasn’t proud of killing Inkerman, but neither did he feel ashamed given what the man had done to his friend, and to him too. He supposed that justice had been served on him, for killing him, since Inkerman had, ultimately, fatally wounded him also.
He thought of Lom briefly, feeling slightly sad that they wouldn’t be able to let him know what had happened to them. He might think they’d decided to give up on the amnesty and abscond to Mexico, but Heyes knew he would always wonder why they just disappeared without a word. He might eventually assume they had been killed but would be upset not to know when, or where, or where they might be buried in order that he might pay his respects.
Heyes gave a soft snort. There would be no formal burial for them. If anyone were to come across their bodies in the future, which was unlikely, since they would no doubt have been picked over by the forest critters by the time any other humans should pass through this isolated area, they would have no idea who they were since they never carried anything with them that could give an indication of their true identities. They would just simply cease to exist, with no grave or record to mark their departure from the world, leaving no legacy behind other than the dime novels that would be written about them and, after a time, even those would come to be thought of as fictional rather than about real people. Having secretly enjoyed his notoriety, as the one-time leader of the Devils Hole Gang, and his reputation as both a gentleman robber and a master safebreaker, Heyes couldn’t decide whether to be pleased or unhappy about that.
He gazed, through half closed eyes, at the stunning scenery spread out below him, Curry’s earlier words coming into his mind. ‘I could live up here… quiet, clean... fresh air… might be nice to build a place, after we get the amnesty, somewhere like this, away from it all, to maybe come on vacation…’
“Well... I guess you got your wish, in a roundabout way, partner...” he muttered, under his breath, “We’re gonna have ourselves a nice long vacation up here… like forever…”
A smile touched his lips as he gazed at the thickly forested terrain stretching out below him, towards the valley in the distance, bathed in shadow now as the sun crept westwards over the mountains.
Just before it slipped below the horizon, Heyes closed his eyes for the final time, his head falling forward to rest against his friend’s. Just as they had always been together in life, so now would they be in death. Friends forever.
--oo00oo--
​
​
​
​
