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[Original 1972/revised 2005/ revised 2020]    

Chapters: 9

Word Count: 82,922

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Warnings: Angst, h/c,

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NO REGRETS

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by

Eleanor Ward

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Authors Note:

Originally written in 1972 this story was my first ever ASJ fanfic.  It was edited in 2005 at the time of posting on line but has long been in need of  some pruning/editing.  After ditching some 8,000 words and re-working some of the dialogue this 2020 version is more streamlined whilst, hopefully, retaining the original storyline.  

Life is what you make it, so the saying goes.  Curry and Heyes learn this the hard way when their lives, and friendship, are shattered by adversity, loss and injury and they have to find a way to heal the rift and forge new futures for themselves.  

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~~~~~~~~~~~~

The early afternoon sun shone brightly down on the Wyoming township of Porterville as the Telegraph operator stepped out of his office, squinting against the glare. Adjusting his green shade, he stepped off the boardwalk and headed up the street, a piece of paper clasped in his hand.  There were only a handful of people on the street, all of whom greeted him as he passed them by. 

 

He reached the Sheriff’s office and opened the door. Inside, Sheriff Lom Trevors was just sitting down to a lunch from Hop Sing’s Chinese Takeaway.​

 

“Hi, Lom.” the Telegraph operator grinned as Lom shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth. 

 

Lom swallowed and returned the greeting, “Hi, Joe. What can I do for you?” 

 

“I just got this wire for you, from Cheyenne.” Joe held out the telegraph. 

 

“Cheyenne?” Lom looked puzzled.  

 

He took the telegraph and opened it, a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach as he read its contents. 

 

The wire was not addressed to him personally but to “The Sheriff of Porterville” and was from Bernard Jackson, the Sheriff of Cheyenne. 

“Have in custody man alleged to be outlaw Kid Curry. Possesses a photograph with who appears to be Sheriff of Porterville. This may or may not be yourself.  Subject is around 35 years, 165lbs, 5’11”, blonde hair, blue eyes.  Any information you can provide as to his identity would be appreciated.”  

Lom sat staring at the telegraph, a hundred questions whizzing through his head.  If this man was Kid Curry, he would surely have given the Sheriff his alias and told him to get in touch with Lom.  Why then did the wire make no mention of Thaddeus Jones, only that the man was “alleged” to be Kid Curry?  Who by, and why?

 

But, if the man wasn’t Kid Curry, then why would he be in possession of a photograph of them both?   The man’s description fitted that of Kid Curry, but then it would fit a lot of other people too.

 

“Any reply?” Joe’s voice brought Lom back from his thoughts. 

 

“Mmm? Oh … er… yes….” Lom pondered for a moment.   There was nothing to be done but to ride over there and see for himself who this man was.  He would have said it was doubtful that the man was Curry except for the mention of the photograph.  Lom had had a photograph taken with Curry the previous year, at the Fourth of July celebrations in Porterville, and he could only assume that this photograph was the one referred to in the telegraph. 

 

“Send back….. ‘Re outlaw prisoner.  Coming to investigate.  Will arrive…. ” he paused, working out how long it would take him to get there. “…Friday’.”

 

 “O.K.” Joe gave him a salute and headed for the door with Lom on his heels, his dinner forgotten. 

 

Joe crossed the street towards the Telegraph Office and Lom turned left and headed for the Courthouse. 

 

“Hi, Charles,” he greeted the man behind the front desk. “Can I have a word with Joshua?  It is urgent.” 

 

Charles Inglewood grinned at him. “He’ll be glad of the excuse to get away.  He drew the short straw for the filing. 

 

Lom mouthed a knowing ‘Oh’ and Charles Inglewood disappeared into the Inner Sanctum of the courthouse. 

 

A few moments later he reappeared, with Joshua Smith – alias Hannibal Heyes – on his heels. 

 

“Hi, Lom.” Heyes smiled. 

 

“Hi.” Lom replied, smiling in spite of himself.  It still seemed strange, to him, to see Heyes in his formal suit. Despite his penchant for fancy clothes, he wore them rarely and somehow the image didn’t equate with the Heyes he knew.  

 

Not that he presented a particularly dapper image today however. It was hot in the courthouse and Heyes had removed his jacket, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his tie was pulled loose and the top two buttons of his waistcoat were undone.  

 

“What’s up?” Heyes asked, and Lom’s expression grew serious once more. 

 

He nodded his head towards the door and Heyes followed him outside. 

 

“I just got this wire.” Lom told him, handing him the telegraph. 

 

Heyes read it, his expression also becoming concerned. 

 

“I don’t know what to make of it.” said Lom. “I’m going over there to check it out.” 

 

“I’ll come with you.” said Heyes. 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” said Lom. “If this guy should turn out to be the Kid, you don’t know what trouble he might be in.  It could be dangerous for you to be around--” 

 

“I’m coming.” Heyes cut in, his tone firm. “What if it is the Kid, and you can’t do anything to get him out?...” he paused, and his voice was hoarse when he continued. “I’d never forgive myself if… I wasn’t there for him.” 

 

Lom sighed, knowing there was no way of dissuading him.  He was his closest friend after all.  “Alright.  I’m going home to pack and fix some supplies.  Meet me there when you’re ready.” 

 

“O.K.” Heyes nodded and went back inside the Courthouse. 

 

Lom went back to his office to leave word for his Deputy that he had to go to Cheyenne on urgent business, before riding back to his cabin to prepare for the journey.​

 

Heyes arrived half an hour later, now dressed in his normal travelling clothes.  Lom was curious to know what explanation he’d given at the Courthouse for his sudden departure -  Ben Walters, Heyes’ boss, was a fiery individual, and he could well imagine what his reaction would have been when Heyes told him he had to take time off, and  Heyes’ response to it -   but he refrained from asking.  Heyes would tell him when he was ready. 

 

Lom finished packing the supplies and Heyes carried them outside and loaded them onto their horses, while Lom locked the cabin. 

 

“Ready?” he glanced at Heyes as he mounted his horse. 

 

Heyes met his gaze and nodded. 

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*   *   * 

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Lom and Heyes arrived in Cheyenne three days later, tired, having kept sleeping to a minimum to speed their arrival, and apprehensive, about who, or what, they might find at the jail, and how to deal with it.  After booking a room at the hotel they headed to the Sheriff’s office.

 

Sheriff Jackson was seated behind his desk, poring over some papers, as they entered. 

 

“Hi.” said Lom. 

 

The Sheriff looked up at him, thinking he looked familiar but unable to recall where he’d seen him. 

 

“Sheriff Jackson?” Lom enquired, studying him.  He was probably around his own age, stockily built, with thinning, sandy hair.  His expression gave the impression of a hard man, but his grey eyes were gentle and Lom could tell he was a fair man.  The ‘hard man’ look was put on for the job. 

 

“Sheriff Lom Trevors,” Lom extended his hand, “Porterville.” 

 

The Sheriff’s face softened into a smile as he recognized the man from the photograph. 

 

“Oh, yes. Hello.” He shook Lom’s outstretched hand. 

 

“Joshua Smith.” Lom indicated Heyes, deliberately omitting any other details as to the relationship between them. 

 

The Sheriff shook Heyes’ hand also. 

“I didn’t expect to see you in person.” he smiled at Lom. 

 

“I was intrigued by your wire.  I had to come and investigate.” said Lom. 

 

“You’re not the only one who’s intrigued.” said the Sheriff. “You’re the only clue we have to the prisoner’s identity.” 

 

Lom glanced at Heyes who he could see was extremely agitated, bursting to bombard the Sheriff with all the questions they’d asked themselves on the journey over here.  But they had to be careful.  A careless word could have them all in jail.  Lom glared a warning at Heyes to keep quiet before perching himself on the corner of the Sheriff’s desk with his most conspiratorial smile. 

 

“Curiouser and curiouser.” He said to the Sheriff. “I do know someone who fits the description you wired me, and I believe he did have a photograph of us, taken at a Fourth of July parade last year, but….” Lom laughed, as though the mere idea was ridiculous “…he’s nothing like what I’ve heard tell of Kid Curry.  So, if this man is Kid Curry, I’d like to know how he comes to have a photograph of me… and, more to the point, what’s happened to Thaddeus.” 

 

“Thaddeus?” the Sheriff repeated. 

 

Lom nodded. “Thaddeus Jones is my friend’s name.  He’s a friend of Joshua here too.” 

 

“Does he live in Porterville?” Sheriff Jackson asked. 

 

“Sometimes.” replied Lom. “He’s a bit of a drifter.  He lives wherever he can find work.” 

 

Lom paused momentarily, wondering how much truth he could safely reveal.  He didn’t like to tell too many lies as it was easy to get caught out, but, too many truths could be just as dangerous.  “He’s been working a farm not far from here.” he added presently, not seeing any harm in revealing that much. 

 

Sheriff Jackson nodded thoughtfully.

 

“So, what happened?” asked Lom. 

 

The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers across his stomach. 

 

“A group of men claiming to be Bounty Hunters brought him in saying that one of them knew Kid Curry and had recognized him.  They claimed he was hiding out somewhere outside of town, probably after that bank robbery over at Torrington a couple of weeks back.” 

 

“Claimed?” Lom questioned.  “You don’t believe them?” 

 

“I had no reason to doubt them in the beginning.  The guy does fit the description on Curry’s wanted poster, but… I don’t know… there’s some things that don’t add up.” 

 

“Oh?”  Lom raised an eyebrow. “Such as?” 

 

The Sheriff sighed.  “He was unconscious when they brought him in.  They said that he’d fought hard against being captured and that they’d had to knock him out to restrain him.  But there were no signs of a violent fight.  His clothes weren’t torn, or dirty, or overly dishevelled, nor did he have any cuts or bruises, although there was the mark of a rifle butt on his temple, which suggests to me that he wasn’t given any chance to put up a fight. He was out cold for a good half hour after they brought him in.”  He paused for a moment before continuing.  “If what they said was true, then it was likely to have taken a minimum of thirty minutes to get here from where they captured him, and probably a good deal longer.  If they’d knocked him out then, he should have been conscious by the time they got him here.” 

 

Lom nodded agreement. 

 

“To be unconscious for that long after they brought him in, I figure they must have knocked him out just before they arrived, and now I’m beginning to wonder why.” the Sheriff continued. “To keep him from telling his side of the story?  The true side maybe? That he was an innocent person who just happened to look a bit like this guy Curry and these guys thought they could make some money out of it?” He raised a questioning eyebrow to Lom.

 

“Hasn’t he told you his side of the story?” Lom asked with a pensive frown.  He had been a prisoner for at least four days, more than enough time for him to explain what had happened. 

 

“He aint said anything at all. He’s in shock.” 

 

“Shock?”  Lom repeated, exchanging confused glances with Heyes. 

 

The Sheriff nodded.  “When he did finally come round, he was like… like he was … in a trance... I couldn’t get a word out of him.  I called the Doc, and he said he’d suffered some kind of … trauma … something so…overwhelming to him, he couldn’t handle it and had closed himself off to everything.” 

 

“And he’s not come out of it yet?” Lom looked shocked. 

 

The Sheriff shook his head. “The Doc says there’s nothing we can do except feed him plenty of fluids, keep him warm and try to talk him round.” 

 

“Did he say how long it would be before he recovers?” Heyes asked now, his dark eyes full of concern. 

 

Sheriff Jackson shrugged. “He says there’s no way to know.  It could be days, weeks… maybe never.”

 

Lom didn’t dare look at Heyes, for fear of what the Sheriff might read into their exchange, but he could sense Heyes’ distress without looking at him. 

 

“I went through his pockets,” the Sheriff continued, “to see if there was anything that might prove his identity. He wasn’t carrying much, just a few dollars, what looked like a list of groceries, and a photograph of himself with a man – you,” he inclined his head towards Lom, “wearing a Sheriff’s badge.  I could make out the name Porterville on the sign on a building in the background of it, so I decided to wire you to see if you could shed any light on things.” 

 

“Where is he?” asked Lom. 

 

“Out back in the cells.” 

 

“Can we see him?” 

 

The Sheriff nodded and reached into his desk for the keys.  He got up and headed towards the door that led to the cells, Lom and Heyes on his heels. 

 

They followed him down the corridor, stopping outside one of the cells. 

 

Lom and Heyes looked inside and then at each other, before returning their shocked gazes back to the cell. 

 

The Kid was slumped in an old armchair that had been dragged up alongside the bunk, his shoulders hunched, his hands limp in his lap.  A dark shadow of stubble covered his jaw and his expressionless eyes gazed unseeingly at the wall of the cell. 

 

“Is it your friend?” asked Sheriff Jackson 

 

Lom dragged his gaze from the Kid to look at the Sheriff. “Yes.” he said gruffly. “It’s Thaddeus.” He looked at the Kid once more and then back at the Sheriff. “Can we go in? he asked. 

 

“Sure.” The Sheriff nodded and unlocked the cell door. 

 

Lom entered and crossed to the chair, while Heyes hovered in the doorway, his expression anguished. 

 

“Thaddues?” Lom bent to look at him.  When he received no response, he put a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. “Thaddues, it’s me, Lom.” 

 

The Kid gave no response, staring right through him as though he wasn’t there.

 

Lom turned to look at Heyes who stepped over and crouched down in front of him, taking one of  his hands between his two. 

 

“Thaddeus?” he called gruffly. “It’s me, Joshua.  Can you hear me?” 

 

When he gave no response, Heyes glanced up questioningly at Lom, who shrugged, as much at a loss as Heyes was. 

 

Lom turned to the Sheriff. “Can you release him into my custody?” 

 

The Sheriff looked doubtful.  “Well …. I don’t know.  You say he’s a friend of yours, but I don’t have any more proof of that than I do that he’s not who those guys say he is.  He ought to stay here until such time as we can properly identify him.” 

“But that could be weeks, months.” replied Lom. He reached into his jacket and took out a folded document.  “You’ve seen the photograph, and in case you’re wondering if I’m an imposter, here are my legal papers.” He held the document out to the Sheriff who took it and unfolded it.  “Surely that’s proof enough? If he was Kid Curry, he’d hardly have his photograph taken with a Sheriff would he?” 

 

“I guess not.” said the Sheriff as he looked at Lom’s papers.  He slowly folded the document and handed it back to Lom. 

 

“O.K.” he said finally.  “I guess I know where I can find you if there’s any problem.” 

 

Lom nodded.  “Thanks. But there won’t be any need.  This guy isn’t Kid Curry.” 

 

“What about the guys who brought him in?” the Sheriff looked at Lom. “What am I gonna tell them if they come back asking about the reward?” 

 

“Tell them he’s been transferred to Porterville and to contact me.” Lom told him. 

 

The Sheriff thought for a moment, before nodding. “O.K.” 

 

“Is he fit to travel?” Lom nodded towards the Kid.  “Can he walk?” 

 

The Sheriff nodded. “He’ll go anywhere you lead him.” 

 

“Right.  We’ll take him over to the hotel with us for tonight.” said Lom. “Then, tomorrow, I’ll have a chat to the Doctor, and if he thinks he’s up to it, we’ll take him back with us to Porterville.  If you need to, you can contact us there.” 

 

“O.K.” nodded the Sheriff. 

 

Lom turned back to the Kid and he and Heyes carefully hauled him onto his feet and steered him out of the cell and down the corridor to the front office.  The Kid shuffled along, his hands limp at his sides, his eyes staring straight ahead.

 

“I hope he makes a full recovery, and soon.” said Sheriff Jackson as they shook hands with him at the door. 

 

“Thanks.” said Lom. ”I’ll keep you posted.” 

 

The Sheriff nodded, and they left, steering the Kid over to the hotel and up the stairs to the room they’d booked earlier, seating him in a chair at the side of the bed. 

 

“I just don’t get it.” said Heyes.  “What could have happened to put him in this state? 

 

“Yeah, I was wondering the same thing myself.” replied Lom as he poured them both a glass of whisky from the flask he’d brought with him. “I was also wondering about Laura – whether she knows about this or not.  She couldn’t have been to the jail or the Sheriff wouldn’t have had to wire me for information about his identity.” 

 

“Yeah.” Heyes nodded, his thoughts turning to Laura.  It had been eighteen months since the Kid had set up home with her, and he’d only seen him a handful of times in that time, when he’d come over to Porterville for brief visits.  The last time had been five months ago when the Kid had come over to tell them that Laura was expecting their baby. 

 

He was brought out of his reverie by Lom’s voice. 

 

“If she knew, surely she’d be here, trying to get him released?” 

 

“Unless he wasn’t at the farm when he was abducted,” said Heyes, “in which case, she could be sitting there thinking he’s run out on her.” 

 

“Yeah.” agreed Lom. 

 

“I’m sure, if she knew, she’d be here.” continued Heyes. “She would probably have contacted you too.” 

 

Lom sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on the Kid’s shoulder. 

 

“Kid, it’s me Lom. Can you hear me? Where’s Laura?  Does she know what’s happened?” 

 

When he gave no response, Lom tried again, shaking him harder as he tried to prompt some response from him.  ‘Kid, where’s Laura?  Does she know what’s happened? Answer me. Where’s Laura?” 

 

Still the Kid gave no response. 

 

Lom looked at Heyes.  “Do you know where the farm is?” 

 

“No.” said Heyes, looking uncomfortable at having to admit he’d never been there.  When the Kid had hinted that he needed him to help set things up at the farm, Heyes had invented places he had to be to avoid going, full of resentment at the Kid for breaking up their partnership. 

 

Lom gave a frustrated sigh, getting up and going over to the dresser for another shot of whisky. 

 

Heyes sat down on the bed and took hold of one of the Kid’s hands. 

 

“Kid?” he called, squeezing his hand tightly. “Kid. It’s me, Heyes. Can you tell me what happened?  Where’s Laura? Does she know what’s happened? Kid?” He kept repeating the question over and over, until, several minutes later, a strange look suddenly came into the Kid’s eyes. 

 

“Lom.” Heyes called. 

 

Lom crouched down by the side of the chair. 

 

“Try again.” he told Heyes. “I think you’re starting to get through to him.” 

 

“Kid! Where’s Laura?” Heyes demanded, “What happened? Tell me. Where’s Laura?” He shook him, “Where’s Laura?” 

 

The Kid suddenly closed his eyes and shook his head, as pictures flashed into his mind, triggered by the combination of Heyes’ familiar voice and the repeated mention of Laura’s name. 

 

“Kid.” Heyes shook him again, “Kid, can you hear me? Tell me what happened.” 

 

The Kid turned his head from side to side, his eyes screwed tightly shut as he tried to block out the images flashing through his brain. 

 

Heyes and Lom were shocked when he suddenly let out a howl like a wounded animal. 

 

“Noooooo.” 

 

They exchanged anxious glances and then Heyes put one hand on the Kid’s shoulder, his other still holding tightly to his hand. 

 

“Kid?” He called softly, “Kid. What is it?” 

 

The kid suddenly opened his eyes, and cast his anguished gaze wildly around the room, not seeming to register his surroundings but appearing instead to be looking around at something only visible in his mind’s eye. He closed his eyes again against the images flooding his brain, lifting a shaking hand to cover his face as he shook his head in confusion and denial. 

 

“Kid?” Heyes repeated softly, squeezing his hand.

 

The Kid lowered his hand and slowly turned his gaze in the direction of the voice.  He stared at him for several moments, and Heyes wasn’t sure if he recognized him or not.​

 

“What happened, Kid?” he asked gently, his eyes full of concern and confusion.

 

“Kid?” He prompted when he made no reply, “What happened?” 

 

The Kid’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. 

 

“Th-they… k-killed her…” he croaked, his tone disbelieving. 

 

Heyes glanced up at Lom, standing now, by the side of the chair, and then back at the kid. 

 

“Who killed who?” he asked softly, but the Kid didn’t appear to hear him. 

“She’s… dead…” he croaked, tears beginning to spill onto his cheeks,  “They  m-murdered  her.”  He closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking with emotion as he was forced to acknowledge the reality of it, “Laura’s… d-dead….”

 

“Oh, no!”  gasped Heyes, exchanging horrified glances with Lom before putting his arm around the Kid’s shoulder in a comforting gesture, “I’m so sorry…” he said gruffly. 

 

The Kid fell against Heyes’ shoulder, beginning to sob loudly.  Heyes glanced up at Lom, his own eyes bright with tears for his friend’s obvious distress. 

 

Lom, too, looked shaken by the Kid’s anguish. 

 

“Sssh… it’s O.K….” Heyes let go of the kid’s hand and brought his other arm up around him and pulled him to him, rocking him gently back and forth as a Mother might a small child. “It’s O.K.” he repeated. 

 

Feeling uncomfortable and a bit like a spare part, Lom said quietly to Heyes, “I’ll go and see if I can book another room.” 

 

Heyes nodded and Lom left the room, going downstairs to the front desk to see if there was a single room available.  The clerk gave him one across the hall from the twin one they’d already taken, and, taking the key he went back upstairs.  He contemplated going back in to Heyes and the Kid, but decided against it and, unlocking the door to the other room he went inside.  He needed a drink, but he’d left the flask of whisky in the other room.  He thought about going over to the Saloon, but decided not to in case he was needed.

 

With a sigh he sat down on a chair by the window and pulled out his tobacco and papers to roll himself a smoke. 

 

 *   *   *

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Back in the other room, the Kid was still sobbing uncontrollably.  After five minutes or so, Heyes pushed him to arms length, looking searchingly into his face.  

 

“Was it the men who captured you?” he asked gently.​

 

The Kid, his head bowed, nodded. 

 

Heyes got up and poured a glass of whisky from Lom’s flask. 

 

“Here.” he pressed it into the Kid’s cold hands, “Drink it.” he ordered, sitting down on the bed once more and studying him worriedly. 

 

The Kid took a sip of the drink, coughing as he swallowed it. 

 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Heyes asked quietly. 

 

The question brought a fresh round of sobs from the Kid. 

 

Heyes leaned forward and put his arm back around his shoulder. “It’s O.K.  You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” he told him, but the Kid spoke as though he hadn’t heard him. 

 

“Th-they... came to the farm…” he bit out, his head bent so that Heyes couldn’t see his face,  “They demanded supplies... We hardly have enough to feed ourselves … let alone anyone else… ” He broke off, overcome once more.

 

“One of them… recognized me…” he continued presently, tears dripping off his chin onto his shirt.  “They decided… to take me in... for the reward... Laura c-came out of the house then… she pleaded with them not to take me…” He shook his head, choked by sobs.  Heyes waited for him to continue. 

 

“They... tied my hands … behind me … and … held me down… while they… they raped her…” He was sobbing so hard now, he could barely speak.​

 

Heyes drew in a shocked gasp, as the Kid continued.  “I couldn’t… do… anything… to help her...” he choked, gulping in air between sobs. “When they’d… finished… the leader... took out… a knife… and… and he… he… slit… her… belly open…” 

 

Heyes closed his eyes, feeling sick, totally unprepared for what the Kid was saying.  He had expected something drastic, but not this. 

 

“The look... on her face… when she saw that… the baby… was… dead… ” the Kid shook his head, “she was... so shocked… I don’t think… she felt the pain...” 

 

“Kid…’ Heyes began, knowing that the Kid should talk about what had happened, but not sure he could bear to hear any more, wanting to comfort him, but not having a clue where to even begin. 

 

But the Kid was oblivious to him now as his mind relived the ordeal. 

 

“Then… he… took the… knife and… and…” he shook his head, trying to deny the reality of it.  “he… he… cut her throat…” 

 

Heyes just stared at him, too shocked to say anything. 

 

“Oh, God….” gasped the Kid,  “It was… so… awful… ” he grabbed for Heyes once more, burying his face in his shoulder, his choking sobs shaking both their bodies. 

 

Heyes brought his arms up around him once more. 

 

“Oh, Kid, I’m so sorry… ” he croaked, tears on his own cheeks at the horror of what he’d heard, “so sorry…” 

 

He didn’t know how long they sat there before the Kid, drained by his grief, fell into an exhausted sleep in his arms. 

 

Heyes eased him back in the chair and gently covered him with a blanket.  He looked so pitiful, his face drawn, his cheeks red and puffy from crying, it tore at his heart. 

 

Swallowing down his emotions and wiping his face on his sleeve, Heyes quietly closed the open window and pulled down the shade before quietly leaving the room.

 

He closed the door and then turned to lean against it, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh.  He opened them again as the door across the hall opened.  Lom stood in the doorway, having heard Heyes leave the room. 

 

Heyes levered himself off the door and crossed the corridor to enter the room.  Lom closed the door after him, his sharp eyes noticing Heyes’ drawn look and moist eyes, but he refrained from comment. 

 

“How is he?” he asked, as Heyes crossed the room to stand in front of the window, his back to Lom, his arms folded about himself. 

 

“Asleep, finally.” Heyes replied gruffly. 

 

“Did he tell you what happened?” asked Lom. 

 

Heyes nodded. “Yeah,” he replied in a trembling voice, struggling to swallow down the lump that rose in his throat when he thought about what the Kid had told him. 

 

“I’ve…” he began, but broke off, lifting his hands to cover his face as his emotions threatened to get the better of him. 

 

Lom could see his shoulders shake as he fought to contain himself, and after a few seconds, he drew himself up, sucked in a breath and, tilting his head back, let it out in a deep controlled sigh. 

 

Lom crossed to his side. “You O.K?” he asked in a deliberately business-like tone, not wanting to upset or embarrass him any further with a show of sympathy and compassion. 

 

Heyes nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah.” he croaked, not looking at him, “It was just…” he shook his head, “I knew something bad must have happened, but … I didn’t expect…” he broke off once more, his eyes filling with tears as he thought again about what had happened, “God, Lom … it was awful…” he finished, his voice shaking with emotion. 

 

Lom’s eyebrows rose.  He too had realized that something dreadful must have happened for the Kid to go into a state of shock like that, but from the look on Heyes’ face, it must have been far worse than either of them could have imagined. 

 

“Sit down.” Lom ordered, pushing him down into an armchair by the window.  Then, leaving the room, he crossed the hall and went quietly into the other room. 

 

It was dim in the room with the shade pulled.  Lom glanced across at the Kid sleeping in the chair and then quietly crossed to the dresser to retrieve his belongings and the flask of whisky he’d left there, before creeping out again. 

 

Back in the other room, he poured a glass from the flask and took it across to Heyes who was perched on the edge of the chair, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, lost in thought. 

”Drink this.” Lom ordered, holding out the glass.​

 

Heyes returned from his thoughts and glanced up at Lom. “Mmm?  Oh, thanks.” he said, quietly taking the glass and taking a sip from it. 

 

Lom sat down on the bed and studied him as he held the glass in both hands between his knees, swirling the liquid around, gazing pensively into it. 

 

”What happened?” asked Lom. 

 

Heyes opened his mouth, but then closed it again, shaking his head, not trusting himself to speak.

 

“Later.” he croaked, taking another sip of the drink, choked by the thought of what had happened. 

​

“O.K.” said Lom, noting the emotion in his eyes.   He was curious to know the facts, but, at the same time, dreading hearing whatever it was that could have devastated the Kid and brought Heyes to the verge of tears.  They’d endured, and been witness to, some pretty terrible things during their lives and their ‘careers’ as outlaws.  There wasn’t a lot left that could shock them. 

 

“Listen,” Heyes’ voice interrupted his thoughts, “Do you mind if I sleep in here tonight?” 

 

“Of course not, but don’t you want to stay with the Kid in case he wakes up?” 

 

Heyes shook his head. “I can’t face it.” he muttered. In truth, he’d been so shocked by what the Kid had told him, while he wanted to try and comfort him he just didn’t have a clue what to say or do.  What could you say to a man who’d seen the woman he loved raped, and then both she and their unborn child brutally slain?  There were no words.  

 

Lom nodded. “Whatever you want.”  

​

“Thanks.” Heyes muttered, not really listening.  

 

With a sigh, Lom said, “I might go and check on the Kid and then slip over to the saloon for a quick drink.” He’d given Heyes almost the last drop of whisky from his flask. 

 

“Yeah, sure.” Heyes muttered absently. 

 

“Want to come?” asked Lom as he picked up his hat, but Heyes shook his head.  

 

Lom left the room, crossing the hallway to check on the Kid, who was still deeply asleep, before locking the door and then heading across the street to the saloon, glad of the cheery atmosphere after the gloom back at the hotel. 

 

He got chatting to one or two of the locals, and then ran into Sheriff Jackson who had just finished for the day and called in for a drink to wind down. 

 

“Oh, Hi.” he smiled as Lom tapped him on the shoulder. 

 

“Listen, I’d like to talk to you about the men who brought Thaddeus in.  Do you mind?” 

 

The Sheriff shook his head. “No. Go on.” 

 

“Thaddeus had a girl.” said Lom. “They were going to be married.  She was pregnant.  She was living with him on the farm he was working.  It seemed odd to Joshua and I that she wasn’t here, so, we kept asking him where she was and if she knew he’d been arrested. Thaddeus suddenly burst into tears and started saying that she was dead… that ‘they’ had murdered her.  I can only assume that ‘they’ are the men who brought him in.” 

 

The Sheriff thought for a moment.  “There’d have to be a body and he’d have to be willing to testify, otherwise it’s his word against theirs.” 

 

Lom sighed.  “Well, I don’t know the answer to those questions yet.  He was too upset to make much sense, and afterwards he fell asleep.  We’ll have to see what sort of state he’s in tomorrow.” 

 

The Sheriff nodded. “Well, you know where to find me if you want to proceed with anything.  Assuming we can find those guys. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em since they brought him in, which makes me even more suspicious about them.  If you had Kid Curry as a prisoner, would you let him out of your sight?” 

 

“No,” said Lom, “I wouldn’t.” 

 

When Lom returned to the hotel, Heyes was asleep in the chair.  Lom covered him with a blanket before undressing and climbing into bed. 

 

He didn’t immediately turn down the lamp, but lay with one arm folded beneath his head, gazing up at the ceiling as he reflected on the day’s events. 

 

He felt so sorry for the Kid. For him, losing Laura and their unborn child, must seem like history repeating itself.  His and Heyes’ parents had both been murdered by bushwhackers while they were still young boys.  Their parents’ murder had been the main reason they’d ended up on the wrong side of the law.   With no family to care for them, they had resorted to stealing, since they were too young to work and begging more often than not brought them a clip round the ear.  At first they’d stolen just food and clothes, then money, and then, later, had graduated to robbing banks and trains.  They’d soon become skillful and before long their names had been known across the Western states.

 

Lom sighed and glanced across at Heyes’ sleeping form. They’d had some good times during their ‘careers’ as outlaws, but, since deciding to quit and asking Lom, a former member of Heyes’ gang before going straight himself, to help them try and get an amnesty for their crimes from the Governor, things had been tough. 

 

After initially promising to give them an amnesty after one year, provided they stay out of trouble, the Governor, bowing to political pressure, had told them, at the end of that year, that there was still suspicion as to their intentions to remain on the right side of the law, and imposed a further year’s probation on them. Angry and frustrated, they had almost given up and returned to their outlaw life, but Lom, who was to be responsible for them during their probationary period, had persuaded them to stick with it, saying that this was just the reaction the Governor was testing, and reminding them of the consequences if they didn’t, and, reluctantly, they had agreed to continue. 

 

Six months later however, the Governor had died, suddenly, of a heart attack, and his successor abolished the amnesty scheme, condemning them to ride the outlaw trail to its predictable end. 

 

Lom had gone to visit him, to try and plead their cases, saying that it wasn’t fair, after they’d stuck at it for so long, to deny them the amnesty.  But the new Governor was adamant. ‘Once a criminal, always a criminal’ he quoted. 

 

“You can’t say that,” said Lom, “I used to be one.” 

 

But the Governor had refused to be swayed and Lom had left the room before he punched him in the face. 

 

Telling Heyes and the Kid the news had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. 

 

He still remembered the looks on their faces as he’d broken it to them – like they’d been hit in the solar plexus with a piece of two-by-four. The Kid had sat at Lom’s kitchen table, elbows on the table top, his face in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief.  Heyes however, had exploded with anger, cursing the Governor to hell, before slamming out of the cabin.  In defiance he’d gone straight out and held up a train, narrowly escaping with his life after a shoot out.  Fortunately, no-one had suspected his identity, so the incident had never been attributed to Heyes and Curry.  Afterwards, Heyes, disappointed with himself for having proved the Governor’s fears about his integrity correct, and despondent about what the future held now that there was no way back to a normal, honest life, had gone on a three day bender before finally returning to Lom’s, unshaven, dishevelled and with a look of defeat about him that Lom had never seen before. Heyes shifted position in the chair, drawing Lom’s attention.  Leaning over he blew out the lamp, lest the light should wake him, and lay back, staring into the darkness. 

 

It had taken Heyes and the Kid a long time to come to terms with the loss of the amnesty.  They had stayed at Lom’s for a time, while they tried to decide where they went from there. They had talked about moving down to Mexico and continuing their outlaw life there – after all, going straight hadn’t brought them anything other than poverty and heartache.  But, after spending so long trying to live honest lives, making plans for what they would do when they were once again free citizens, neither of them had the heart for going back to their old life.  Eventually, they decided that they had no choice but to keep the aliases Lom had given them and try to build new lives for themselves somewhere where the law wouldn’t find them. 

 

That had been five years ago. Five hard years.  They’d moved from place to place, trying to put down roots and build new lives, only to be forced to move on when people discovered their identities.  Several times they’d ended up in jail, and Lom had had to come to their aid.  The Kid had got shot the following year as they’d tried to evade a Bounty Hunter and almost bled to death before they’d got to a doctor and, that same winter, Heyes had caught pneumonia and almost died.  For a while after his recovery, they had managed to settle somewhere without being recognized, and began to carve out new lives. 

 

Then the Kid had met Laura.  It had been love at first sight, and it wasn’t long before he’d been torn, between his loyalty to Heyes and his desire to be with Laura. 

 

Eventually, his love for Laura had won out, and he’d gone to Heyes and told him that he wanted to settle down with her.  He had invited Heyes to move in with them, but he had politely declined, not wanting to play gooseberry.  Soon afterwards they had set up home together working a small farm up near Hillsdale.  Alone, and feeling a bit lost, Heyes had come back to visit Lom while he took stock of things.  He had declared himself ‘happy’ for the Kid, but Lom knew that he felt a degree of resentment at what he saw as the Kid breaking up their partnership. 

With a character reference from Lom, Heyes had got himself a job, as a clerk at the courthouse, and rented rooms over the tailor’s shop. He had only intended the job to be a temporary thing, while he figured out what he was going to do next, but, safe from the law under Lom’s watchful eye, he’d gradually begun to settle into it. Lom wouldn’t have gone as far as saying Heyes was happy with his lot, but, even though it wasn’t the sort of life he would have chosen for himself, he was the most contended Lom had seen him since before they’d given up their outlaw life. 

 

Of the two of them, it had always seemed to be the Kid who hankered most for their old life.  At least, he was the one who’d done the most complaining about the hardships going straight had caused them.  Heyes had complained little, even though Lom knew he felt exactly the same.  But one thing Heyes had in abundance was determination, and once he’d made his decision to go straight and honour the pledge made between them and the government, nothing would deter him from that path.  It was only when he believed he’d been betrayed by the new Governor that he’d deliberately committed a crime, and then he had instantly regretted it.  If it hadn’t been for Heyes’ determination, Lom suspected that the Kid would have drifted back to his outlaw ways. 

 

Lom sighed, his mind going back to the days events, wondering how the Kid was going to come to terms with Losing Laura and their child.  Lom remembered his own feelings of grief at the death of his own wife several years before.  After a brief marriage, she had died of influenza without bearing any children.  He remembered the desolation he had felt at her passing.  But his own situation was far removed from the Kid’s.  Lom had grown up in a loving home, with an older brother for companionship, who had comforted him in his grief.  He himself had fallen into the outlaw life more from boredom than necessity, riding, for a time, with Heyes and his gang, where they’d forged their friendship, before going straight and later becoming Sheriff of Porterville. 

 

The Kid, like Heyes, had always enjoyed the attention of the ladies, but they were always just passing relationships. Neither of them ever got seriously involved with anyone, partly because of always having to keep on the move, to avoid being recognized, but partly, Lom suspected, because the loss of their own parents at such young ages had made them wary about committing to anyone for fear of losing them and having to face that pain all over again.  Laura was the first person, other than Heyes, that the Kid had ever committed himself to, and to lose her and their child so tragically would be a hard blow to recover from.

 

*   *   *

​

When Lom awoke the next morning, the room was empty.   Just as he sat up, wondering where Heyes had gone, the door opened and he came in. 

 

“Morning.” said Lom,  “I was just wondering where you were.” 

 

“I went to check on the Kid.” replied Heyes, “He’s still asleep."  he added, in answer to Lom’s questioning look, “I ordered breakfast to be sent up.” 

 

“Oh, thanks.” Lom threw back the covers and got up, crossing to the dresser to pour water in order to wash. 

“You O.K.?” he asked noting Heyes’ sombre expression. 

 

Heyes nodded, “Yeah.” 

 

“Feel up to telling me what happened?”​

 

Heyes sighed,  “I guess.” 

 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to repeat what the Kid had told him, while Lom washed and shaved. 

 

“My God.” gasped Lom, his expression sick, “How could they do something like that?  It’s… barbaric.” 

 

Heyes nodded agreement, “Imagine having to watch it and not be able to do anything.”  he said, his voice gruff with emotion at the thought of it. 

 

“Yeah,” Lom replied thoughtfully,  “No wonder he’s in such a state.” 

 

Neither spoke for several moments, as each tried to imagine the horror of it. 

 

“We need to tell Sheriff Jackson about this.” Lom said presently. 

 

“What can he do?” said Heyes. 

 

“He can arrest those guys when they come back to collect their money.” said Lom. 

 

“You don’t really think they’ll be back, do you?” grunted Heyes,  “Sheriff Jackson was right to be suspicious of those guys.  There’s no way they were Bounty Hunters, just gunslingers out to try and make some easy cash.  As soon as they realized they couldn’t get their hands on any of the reward money the minute they brought him in, while he was still unconscious and couldn’t tell his side of story, they knew they ran the risk of him spilling the beans on them when he came to.  They couldn’t know what the effect of what they did would have on him.  They probably thought the Sheriff would be after them as soon as he came round.  You can bet they’re long gone, and with no witnesses to the crime, other than the Kid, there’s not much he can do.” 

 

“I know,” nodded Lom, “but it’s so damned unfair.’ he growled. 

 

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. 

 

“That’ll be the breakfasts.” said Heyes, getting to his feet,  “I ordered some for the Kid too, but I can’t see him wanting any.” He crossed to the door and took the tray, loaded with three breakfasts and a large pot of coffee. 

 

“Shall we eat over there?” Heyes nodded in the direction of the other bedroom. 

 

“May as well.” said Lom, preceding him across the hall and unlocking the door, holding it open for Heyes to carry the tray through. 

 

Heyes set the tray down on the dresser and Lom poured coffee while Heyes moved to open the shade and then crossed to the chair where the Kid was still sleeping, reluctant to wake him from the peacefulness of sleep to endure the memories of what had happened. 

 

“Kid?” he said presently, bending to shake his shoulder. “Kid, wake up.” 

 

The Kid groaned, turning his head from side to side, before opening his eyes. 

 

“Morning.” Heyes said quietly.  The Kid didn’t reply. 

 

“We… er… brought you some breakfast.” Heyes continued.  There was no point in asking him how he felt. 

 

“I’m not hungry.” muttered the Kid, his voice barely audible. 

 

“I know.  But you have to keep your strength up.” Heyes told him. 

​

“For what?” replied the Kid, his voice flat. 

 

“For Laura.” said Heyes,  “I know you feel there’s nothing to go on for right now, but she wouldn’t have wanted you to give up.  She’d have wanted you to go on and enjoy your life.” The Kid just stared vacantly at the wall, not seeming to have heard him. 

 

“You have to go on,” Heyes told him, “for Laura as much as anything, but for yourself too.”  He sighed, “And for me.” he added quietly. 

 

The Kid’s eyes filled with tears.  He opened his mouth as though to speak, but no words would come.  He closed it again and shook his head in despair. 

 

“Come on, Kid, don’t quit.” Implored Heyes,  “It’ll take time, but it will get easier.” 

​

The Kid grunted.  “How would you know?” he snapped, and Lom saw a brief look of hurt flash into Heyes’ eyes at his inference that Heyes had never cared enough for anyone to feel the way he was feeling now.  But all he said was, “Laura’s gone, Kid.  You can’t bring her back.  You have your own life to live.  Be thankful for the time you had with her.  Cherish the memories.  Don’t let grief and bitterness destroy them.”

 

“But…it’s such a waste…” said the Kid, his voice hoarse with emotion,  “There was no need for them to… do what they did….” He broke off on a stifled sob. 

 

“I know.” agreed Heyes, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, an oddly wistful look in his eyes.

 

“Come on, have some breakfast before it gets cold.” Lom called to them. 

 

Heyes nodded and then bent to the Kid. 

 

“Come and have something to eat.” he coaxed, but the Kid shook his head. 

 

Heyes sighed.  “Have some coffee then.”  When the Kid made no reply, Heyes straightened and crossed to the dresser to pick up one of the cups of coffee Lom had just poured, exchanging glances with him as he did so.  He carried it over and pressed it into his hands. 

“Drink.” he told him. 

 

The Kid absently sipped the coffee, staring vacantly into space, his expression anguished. 

 

“We want you to come back to Porterville with us.” said Heyes, glancing for confirmation at Lom, who nodded. 

 

“No.” the Kid cut in, shaking his head,  “I want to go to the farm.” 

 

Heyes glanced worriedly at Lom. 

 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go back there yet.” he told him. 

 

“I have to.” said the Kid, not looking at him. 

 

“You can go there later.  Why upset yourself any further?” said Heyes. 

 

“I have to.” the Kid repeated,  “I don’t know what happened after… after they k-killed her… they knocked me out and… took me away.  I have to go there…” he insisted, “I have to know…”

 

Heyes looked at Lom who raised one shoulder in a slight shrug before giving a vague nod.  Like Heyes, he didn’t think it was a good idea for him to go back there so soon, but his reasons were understandable. 

 

“O.K.” Lom spoke now, crossing to the bed,  “How about we call in on the way back to Porterville? Then you can come back and stay at my place for a while, until you decide what you want to do.  How’s that sound?  O.K?” The Kid nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. 

 

They checked out of the hotel at lunch time, after Lom had organized enough supplies for the four day trip back to Porterville, via the Kid’s farm, and set off. 

 

They rode in silence.  The Kid was in a world of his own, and Lom and Heyes weren’t in the mood for social chit-chat. 

 

The kid looked dreadful, Heyes noted.  He hadn’t washed or shaved and his hair was dishevelled, and now that the reality of Laura’s death had hit him, his face was pale and drawn, his eyes wide and baleful, with a bleakness in them that Heyes had never seen before.  But then this was the first time in his adult life he’d lost someone he cared about.  Two years younger than Heyes, he had only been seven when his and Heyes’ parents had been murdered, too young to understand, or remember, much about it, although it was still etched in Heyes’ mind as fresh as if it was yesterday -  Heyes  shuddered at the memory - and apart from Heyes himself, there’d been no-one else close to him, until Laura.  Heyes sighed.  It was a terrible thing to have happened.  It would take some getting over. 

 

The Kid seemed to know where he was headed, so they just followed him.  Neither Heyes nor Lom had been to the farm and so didn’t know exactly where it was situated. 

 

Eventually, the Kid slowed as they came to a fence surrounding the land belonging to the farm. 

 

“No.” he gasped, dismounting and running through the gateway, stopping thirty yards in and casting about him in anguish. 

 

Lom and Heyes exchanged horrified glances at the scene before them.  Where before had stood a cabin, barn and stable, there was now a pile of burnt embers.  Obviously, after taking the Kid prisoner, the gang had set everything alight. 

 

The Kid ran on a few more yards and then stopped abruptly, looking at the ground, before sinking to his knees with a howl of anguish. 

 

Heyes and Lom dismounted and hurried across to him.  In the ground, in front of him, they could see dried blood stains in the earth.  This must have been where Laura was killed.  From the spot, two lines, gouged into the earth, led directly to the pile of timbers that had once been their home.  It wasn’t hard to work out what had happened.  After murdering her, they had dragged her lifeless body into the house, the heels of her shoes leaving the gouge marks in the ground, and then left it to burn along with the building. 

 

Heyes’ gaze fell to the Kid, slumped on the ground, his fingers clawing at the bloodstained earth. 

 

“Kid.” he croaked, going down on one knee alongside him and reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, his own mind full of memories of that dreadful day when a similar fate had befallen their parents.

 

“I’ll go and see if anything can be salvaged.” Lom muttered, his voice strangled by the lump in his own throat. 

 

Heyes nodded, his attention on the Kid, wanting to comfort him, but knowing it was impossible. 

 

“Ssssh.” he soothed, but the Kid was oblivious to him, overcome by this further atrocity.

 

Lom came back presently, his expression sombre. 

 

“There’s nothing left.” he said quietly.

 

“Bastards.” Heyes hissed through his teeth. 

 

“They must have taken the horses, or turned them loose,” Lom continued, “the corral is wide open.” 

 

They both turned their eyes to the Kid, sobbing into the dirt.

 

“What now?” Heyes croaked. 

 

“Let’s get him away from here first of all.” said Lom, “Then, when he calms down a bit, we’ll head off to my place.” 

 

Heyes nodded.  He bent to haul the Kid up and onto his feet. But, as he tried to steer him away, the Kid began to struggle.  

 

“No…”​

 

“Come on, Kid, there’s nothing left for you here.” coaxed Heyes. 

 

“No…”  

 

Lom stepped forward to help, but, as they hustled him away, the Kid stretched his arms over their shoulders, in the direction of the ruins of the house, calling out Laura’s name over and over. 

 

“He’s in no state to ride.” Lom said, breathlessly, as they struggled to get the Kid away from the scene, “Let’s go over to that coppice over there, out of sight of the farm.  Maybe we can calm him down there.” 

 

Heyes nodded and they hustled him out of the gate and into the copse that they’d ridden through earlier.  They carried on walking until they were out of sight of the ruins of the farm, stopping when they came upon a fallen tree in a small clearing. 

 

“Let’s stop here.” said Lom. 

 

They lowered the kid down onto the ground in front of the tree trunk.  He curled up into a ball, sobbing, while Lom straightened up and raked his dishevelled hair back into place and Heyes sank down onto the tree trunk looking close to tears himself. 

 

“I’ll go and fetch the horses.” said Lom, “Can you make a fire?  We’ll camp here a while.” 

 

Heyes nodded.  “What are we gonna do with him?”  he asked, looking at the Kid. 

 

Lom stared at the Kid for a moment, before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. 

 

“There’s nothing we can do,” he said, “except be here for him.” 

 

He headed off back to get the horses then, leaving Heyes to keep an eye on the Kid. 

 

Heyes wished there was something he could do to comfort him.  It tore at his heart so see him so upset.  But he knew there was nothing. 

 

He sighed heavily, his mind turning once again back to the day their parents had been murdered.  The Kid hadn’t seen it, he’d ducked out of his chores, to try and catch fish in a stream that ran through woods near their parents’ farms. Heyes however, had seen it all as he’d hidden, terrified, in the bushes that ran along the perimeter fence of their farm, watched them, slaughtered, like animals, before their homes were burnt to the ground. 

 

Afterwards, he had sought out the Kid and tearfully recounted what had happened. At seven, the Kid hadn’t really understood what death meant, but he’d cried anyway because Heyes had told him their parents were gone forever, and Heyes had held him in his arms and told him not to worry, that he would look after him.  He had refused to let the Kid go back to see the devastation, waiting until he had fallen asleep before going back and packing up whatever he could find left undamaged in the burnt out ruins of their homes, which wasn’t much, before burying the remains of his and the Kid’s parents. 

 

Heyes shuddered at the memories.  The similarities between what had happened to their parents and to Laura was chilling. In some ways this was worse, because of what the gang had done to Laura, a pregnant woman, killing her unborn child and then incinerating their bodies, and he felt desperately sorry for what the Kid now had to live with. 

 

Lom returned several minutes later to find Heyes still seated on the tree trunk, staring absently at the Kid’s weeping form, lost in his thoughts, the fire he’d asked him to light completely forgotten.  He didn’t say anything, but set about the task himself and put the coffee on, casting brief glances at Heyes and the Kid as he did so.  Heyes looked choked, obviously shaken by what had happened and the Kid’s response to it. 

 

When the coffee was ready, he poured two cups and carried one over to Heyes. 

 

“Heyes” he called, holding the cup out to him.

 

When Heyes didn’t respond, Lom bent to shake him. “Heyes.” he repeated. 

 

Heyes jumped, turning anguished eyes onto Lom’s face. 

 

“Mmm?”  Then, when he saw the cup of coffee. “Oh, Sorry, Lom, I was going to make the fire...” 

 

“That’s O.K.” Lom smiled at him. 

Heyes took the cup and Lom turned away to get his own before sitting down on the tree trunk a couple of feet from Heyes. 

 

They sat in silence for several moments, eying the Kid who was still curled up by the tree trunk whimpering softly.

 

“I just can’t believe it.” Heyes said presently, staring pensively into his coffee cup, “How could anyone be so….barbaric…” He shook his head, “She was eight months pregnant for God’s sake…” He sighed heavily,  “I’ve seen some terrible things in my time, but… nothing quite like this… ” he trailed off, lifting anxious eyes to Lom’s. 

 

“Me neither.” Lom replied gruffly. 

 

Heyes glanced across at the Kid. 

 

“How do you live with something like that?” he asked hoarsely, shifting his gaze back to Lom’s. 

 

Lom lifted his eyebrows in a helpless gesture and sighed deeply, at a loss for an answer. 

 

“I feel bad enough and I barely knew Laura.” Heyes continued, “I just can’t imagine how I’d deal with my wife and child being raped and murdered.” He sighed and looked at Lom,  “I wish there was something I could do to comfort him, but there’s nothing to be done is there?” 

 

“No.” agreed Lom,  “All we can do is be here, and keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

 

“You could hardly blame him for wanting to.” said Heyes. 

 

“Yeah, but like you said, Laura wouldn’t have wanted him to throw his life away for her.  She’d have wanted him to go on and enjoy his life.” 

 

“I know I told him that, but I’m not sure I believe it.” said Heyes. 

 

“Why?” Lom looked surprised. 

 

Heyes thought for a moment. “They say that there’s someone for everyone in this world.” he said presently, “Some people never find that someone and spend their lives aimlessly searching for them.” He paused momentarily, and Lom wondered if he was talking about his own failure to find a mate. 

 

“If you find them, and then lose them,” Heyes continued presently, “no-one else will ever match up to them, so the reason for going on is gone.” 

 

“Maybe Laura wasn’t the one he was destined to be with.” Lom put in.,“He might meet someone else.” 

 

Heyes shook his head.  He had known the Kid all his life and watched him work his way through dozens of women down the years.  He had fallen heavily for several of them, but with Laura it had been different.  They were so close it was as though one could read the other’s mind, and, for the first time in all the years they’d been together, Heyes had felt like an outcast. 

 

“She was the one.” he said, gazing into his cup, feeling desperately sorry for the Kid and what he’d lost, but also envious of the love he’d found with Laura, a small part of him wishing he could have found somebody like that for himself.  He didn’t suppose he would now, and he’d more or less resigned him to a lonely old age.  But occasionally, like now, the thought of growing old alone, and, most likely, poor, depressed him almost unbearably. 

 

”I think,” Lom’s voice cut into his reverie, “that we’d better camp here for the night.” 

 

He lifted his eyes to look at Lom who was gazing apprehensively at the Kid. 

 

“He’s not going to be in any fit state to travel anywhere before morning.” he added, turning back to look at Heyes. 

 

“No.” Heyes agreed gruffly, following Lom’s gaze. 

 

“We should go back and tell Sheriff Jackson about this.” Lom said presently. 

 

“What’s the point, Lom?” Heyes looked at him with bleak eyes,  “There’s no way of proving those guys did it, even assuming they show up again, which I doubt.  And the more investigating the Sheriff does, the more chance there is of him finding that it really was Kid Curry he had in custody.”  He shook his head,  “Better to just leave it.” 

 

Lom shook his head.  “It’s not right.” 

 

“I know.” agreed Heyes,  “But it’s for the best.” 

 

Lom gave a deep sigh.  “I guess.” he reluctantly agreed. 

 

They finished their coffee and then set about making camp for the night. 

 

The sun was just dipping below the horizon when they’d finished, and the Kid had drifted into an anguished sleep. 

 

Heyes covered him with a blanket while Lom dished up the supper he’d prepared, which they ate in a preoccupied silence before climbing into their makeshift beds.  It was still fairly early, but neither of them was in the mood to sit up and chat. 

 

A mountain lion woke Heyes and Lom in the early hours, but the Kid slept on, oblivious to its screams.  

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The next morning, they discovered that the Kid had once again retreated into himself, obviously overcome by grief and the horror of what he’d discovered at the farm the previous day. He ignored all their attempts to get him to eat some breakfast as he sat, staring into the distance, his eyes full of anguish. 

 

“What do we do now?” asked Heyes, his expression distraught. 

 

“Well, we can’t stay here”. Lom replied, “We’d better get him onto a horse and head towards Porterville.  When we get there, if he’s still the same, I’ll get Doc Simpson to have a look at him.” 

 

Heyes nodded agreement.  

 

They packed up their camp, while the Kid remained sitting on the ground gazing vacantly into the distance. 

 

When they were ready to leave, Heyes approached him, crouching down at his side and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Kid?” he called softly.  The Kid blinked, but didn’t reply. 

 

“It’s time to go.  Come on.” said Heyes, taking his arm and encouraging him to get to his feet.  The Kid obeyed and Heyes steered him towards his horse. 

 

“Get on.” Heyes commanded, but the Kid just stood there. 

 

Together, Heyes and Lom got his foot into the stirrup and boosted him up into the saddle.  

 

Heyes decided to ride with him as he was worried he might fall off.  He climbed up behind him and Lom led Heyes’ horse behind his own.

 

  *   *   *

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​When they arrived back in Porterville three days later, there had been little change in the Kid’s condition.  He wasn’t in the deep trance-like state he’d been in at the jail, but seemed locked in his own world.  He had not spoken a word, or eaten a morsel of food, although they had managed to get some water into him, and they were worried about his condition. 

 

Lom fetched Doctor Simpson out to examine him, but he could find nothing physically wrong with him. 

 

“Everyone deals with grief in different ways.” he said, after hearing about Laura and the baby’s murder and his behaviour afterwards.  “At the moment he feels that nothing matters any more, and he’s withdrawn inside himself. It could have been worse.” He told them, “He could have killed himself.  He obviously has a deep instinct for survival, otherwise he may well have done, and from what you’ve told me, it would have been an understandable reaction.” 

 

Lom nodded.  “That’s what we were worried about.” 

 

“In his mind, this is the next best thing – his way of ‘escaping’ from it, from having to deal with his feelings.  Since he came out of the initial state of trauma, I’m confident this is just a temporary state of mind, but it could take some time before he recovers himself.  In the meantime, all I can suggest is that you keep an eye on him and try to keep him involved in things.  He needs stimulation, to encourage his brain to function.  Don’t let him sit alone in his room all day or he’ll just go into a decline.” 

 

“We’ll do our best.” said Lom. “Thanks, Doc.” 

 

“You know where I am if you need me.” smiled the Doctor.

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