Retribution
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- 12 -
Heyes was quiet and withdrawn for several days as he tried to come to terms with everything that had happened, but by the time Curry was fit to travel a month later, he was beginning to show signs of getting himself together, and they decided it was time to move on and try and find some work.
"Thanks for everything, Lom." said Heyes as he loaded his belongings onto his horse.
"No problem." smiled Lom.
Heyes finished securing his belongings and then turned to face him, "I mean it, Lom." he told him seriously, "I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help."
"Sure you would." Lom dismissed, looking embarrassed, "Just make sure you make it to your amnesty hearing." He grinned, wagging his finger at him.
"We’ll be here." said Curry, coming out of the cabin and mounting his horse.
"Take care now" said Lom, "and don’t get into any trouble."
"Who? Us?" Heyes quipped, as he mounted his horse.
Lom looked at Curry, who raised his eyes to the sky and gave a resigned shrug.
Lom grinned, watching them as they rode away.
* * *
It was four months until their amnesty hearing. One hearing had already taken place, behind closed doors, the previous year, at which time it had been decided that politically, it wasn’t a good time to grant Heyes and Curry an amnesty, and a further waiting period had been imposed, to be reviewed at a date to be advised, when the political climate improved. Lom had been pestering for a date ever since and had finally succeeded in getting a date for their case to be discussed.
However, once again the promise of an amnesty was refused on the grounds that it wasn’t the right time, politically. Nor was the Governor satisfied as to their intentions to remain on the straight and narrow, and insisted that they prove themselves further.
Lom argued that they had proved themselves enough already, that the original trial period had come and gone and they were still sticking to their end of the bargain so it was only fair that the Governor should stick to his.
The Governor promised that in six months time, he would definitely grant them an amnesty provided they didn’t get into any further trouble.
The news was a setback to Heyes and Curry, Curry moreso than Heyes, who had always been the more doubtful of the two as to government’s intention to honour it’s word, and Lom had a hard time persuading them to carry on, both of them saying that it wasn’t worth it, that at the end of that six months, the Governor would find another excuse not to give it to them.
It was only after Lom explained that this was just the attitude the Governor was trying to provoke, and reminded them of the alternatives if they didn’t stick with it, that they reluctantly agreed to carry on.
However, three months later, the Governor died, suddenly, of a heart attack, and his replacement abolished the scheme, condemning Heyes and Curry to remain wanted criminals for the rest of their days.
Lom tried everything to get their case heard, saying that if wasn’t fair, that they’d worked for this for almost two years, only to have it snatched away from them at the final hurdle. He told the Governor that he should honour his predecessor’s promises, but the Governor was adamant. He thought the whole scheme was a waste of time.
Lom had given up, storming out of the Governor’s office before he hit him.
He returned home with a heavy heart. He knew that Heyes and Curry would be back, as soon as news of the Governor’s death reached them, to find out what was to happen about the amnesty, and Lom didn’t know how to tell them.
He had ten days to think about it before they arrived from the next state where they’d been working.
Lom met them on the porch.
"Hi." he said to them, his expression sombre, "I take it you heard the news?" he asked, as they dismounted.
"Yeah." said Heyes, "We thought we’d better come and find out what’s what."
Lom nodded, "I’ve been expecting you. You’d better come in."
They followed him inside. Curry sat at the table while Heyes leaned against the door frame, pushing his hat back and folding his arms.
Curry took off his hat and put it on the table, "Well?" he asked.
With a sigh, Lom told them of his fruitless efforts to get their case heard.
He had known they would take it hard, but, as he told them the news that the new Governor had abolished the scheme and condemned them for the rest of their days, he was shocked when Curry broke down in tears, his face in his hands, while Heyes glared at him from the doorway with a look of ‘I told you so’ in his eyes, having always suspected, deep down, that the Government would find some way out of honouring its promise.
"I’m sorry, boys." Lom glanced from Heyes to Curry and back again, "Truly sorry. But, you can settle down someplace under assumed names." He paused, "It’s not the end of the world." he offered, but he knew that, to them, it was.
He turned to comfort Curry, whose tears had shaken Lom even more than the hostile look on Heyes’ face. He’d never known him so upset. He usually took everything in his stride. When he next looked up, Heyes had disappeared.
"Heyes?" He hurried to the door and looked out, but Heyes, and his horse, were gone.
"Oh, no." Lom sighed. Now what was he going to do? Heyes could be very unpredictable when he was angry. Frowning, he went back inside and poured Curry a stiff scotch.
"Here, drink this." he told him, pressing the glass into his hand.
Curry wiped his face on his shirt sleeve and took a sip of the drink, "I’m sorry." He croaked, "It’s just that…"
"I know." Lom cut in, "You’re no sorrier than I am, believe me."
"Where’s Heyes?" Curry asked now.
Lom lifted his shoulders, "Gone off somewhere." He gazed pensively out of the window, "I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid."
​
It was two days before Heyes finally reappeared back at Lom’s.
When they heard his horse approach, Lom and Curry hurried outside.
Heyes looked sick, and tired, and seemed a little unsteady in the saddle, and Lom guessed he’d spent the last two days someplace, drowning his sorrows in liquor. He was relieved however, to see him still in one piece. He had been worried that this might have been the last straw for his already battered spirit.
Lom glanced across at Curry who also looked relieved at Heyes’ safe return.
Heyes didn’t bother to dismount, but looked disdainfully down at Lom, his eyes like chips of coal. Lom could tell he blamed him for this blow. It was natural enough, he supposed. After all, it was he who had pressured and cajoled them into accepting the deal offered by the Governor, he who had assured them that they’d make it, and be able to live once more as free citizens. Now, it seemed like an empty promise, and that they’d wasted these last two years, and Heyes felt betrayed, by the Government, and by Lom as it’s agent.
"I’m sorry, Heyes." he said, with a helpless shrug.
Heyes didn’t reply, turning his gaze instead to Curry.
"Looks like we’re on our own now, Kid." he said, his tone clipped, "Are you coming with me?"
Curry looked from Heyes to Lom and back again. Then, with a shrug to Lom, he went inside and came out a few moments later with his belongings, going over to saddle his horse.
Heyes sat on his horse throughout, saying nothing at all.
Lom could tell he was furious. He could feel it emanating from him, although outwardly his expression appeared calm. It was quite a feat of self control on Heyes’ part. Although genial by nature, with a slow temper, when he did get mad, he had a vicious tongue, and Lom knew he was remaining silent because, if he said one word, he wouldn’t be able to control the torrent of abuse he was holding back.
Lom hoped it was because he still had enough respect for him than to lay all that on him, and he was thankful he hadn’t gotten off his horse and vented his frustration with his fists.
Lom also suspected that he’d gone off and got drunk in preference to going out and robbing a bank, which went to prove how much he’d matured this last couple of years.
Curry finished saddling his horse and turned to face Lom, his eyes troubled.
"I’m sorry to run out on you like this…" he trailed off with a small shrug. Heyes had put him in the embarrassing position of having to choose between them. He didn’t want to offend Lom, but he couldn’t walk out on Heyes either.
Lom raised a hand to cut him off. "It’s O.K." he told him, "I understand."
Curry gave a sheepish smile, "Well, thanks for everything." he said, extending his hand.
​
Lom nodded and shook his hand, "Take care now." he told him, as he mounted his horse and they turned to go.
"Heyes." Lom called.
Heyes stopped his horse and turned to look at Lom, his face set like a stone carving.
Lom shook his head, "Don’t throw away what you’ve achieved, Heyes." he said, his tone pleading, "Don’t do anything stupid. You can still make a go of things. I know you can."
Heyes said nothing. Lom sighed. It was hopeless trying to talk to him in this mood.
"Good luck." he said finally.
Their eyes met and held momentarily, Lom’s beseeching, Heyes’ hostile. But Lom could see the disappointment and the hurt lurking in their depths and his heart went out to them both. He just hoped that when he calmed down, Heyes would realize that he had been just as much a pawn in the game as they had been.
Heyes managed a curt nod of acknowledgement to Lom’s ‘good luck’ before they turned their horses and rode away.
​
* * *
​
Lom heard nothing from them for several months. Then he got a telegraph saying that they had assumed new names and were gold mining up in the mountains, hoping to save enough money to get started in some sort of business.
The telegraph was signed only as ‘T. Jones’, and gave no indication of what names they might be living under now, or exactly where they were working, presumably done, Lom imagined, so that he couldn’t trace them if pressure was put on him to help track them down. He assumed it was Heyes’ doing. Curry wasn’t that cold, or that calculating. Obviously, Heyes still hadn’t forgiven him, or the Government, yet.
Lom had been right in thinking that Heyes hadn’t forgiven him, or the Government, but wrong in thinking that it was Heyes who had dictated the telegraph in a deliberately vague manner, either for their own protection, or from some sense of spite. In fact Heyes knew nothing of it.
On their first trip into the nearest town to their claim, when they went in to cash in their gold dust, Curry had suggested that they let Lom know that they were O.K.
It was the worst thing he could have suggested. Up until then, neither of them had raised the subject of the loss of the amnesty, each thinking the other too upset about it.
Curry, after his initial upset, had more or less resigned himself to the situation, and in no way blamed Lom for what had happened, and he knew that Lom would be worried about them and wanted to put his mind at rest.
Heyes however, wasn’t so forgiving. As the only focal point for his anger against the government, he wanted to hurt Lom for the way the government had hurt him. He was still too full of resentment to admit that Lom had been used just as much as they had been. His resentment caused irrationality. Going back over it in his mind, it began to seem as though the whole thing had been Lom’s fault. It had been Lom who had talked them into it to begin with, Lom who had nagged and pressured them to stay on the straight and narrow, Lom who had promised them that they would get the amnesty, almost guaranteed it in fact. Heyes had always trusted Lom, believed in him, and their failure to get the amnesty had shattered that trust. Still fragile from his emotional breakdown ten months earlier, his feelings of betrayal became entwined with the anger and resentment he still felt about what Felton had done to him, smoldering away and growing in force, like a volcano getting ready to erupt, so that when Curry suggested they let Lom know they were alright, it was like lighting the fuse of a bomb.
Heyes had exploded, venting his pent-up emotions, forbidding Curry to send that, or any other, telegraph, ranting that their legal association with Lom was now at an end and they were no longer obliged to inform him of their whereabouts, and yelling at him never to mention Lom’s name to him again.
After his initial shock at Heyes’ verbal onslaught on him, Curry tried to reason with him.
"You can’t blame Lom for the Governor’s decision."
But Heyes was adamant.
"I can blame him for talking us into it in the first place." he snapped, "We’ve spent the last two years bowing and scraping to people I’d as soon punch in the face, just to keep our identities a secret, scratching a living, broke and hungry more often than not.
"Lom didn’t ‘talk us into it’." Curry cut in, "It was your idea to go straight."
"Maybe," Heyes looked dismissive, "but he browbeat us into sticking with it after the first time they turned us down, practically guaranteed us we would get the amnesty if we did." He shook his head angrily, "If we’d planned it right, we could have carried on the way we were, saved up, and retired in style. The way we live now is worse than… worse than savages." he sneered, his eyes burning with anger.
Curry stared at him. That was a very uncharacteristic remark for Heyes to make. He admired the Indians tremendously, and had often said that there was much to be learned from them and their way of life.
"But it might not have turned out that way." he reasoned now, "We could have got captured, or killed. It wasn’t Lom’s fault the Governor died. And look at the times he’s stuck his neck out for us. He must have had faith in us to stick by us. He could easily have lost his job and ended up in jail himself if anyone had found out some of the ways he helped us out of the trouble we got into. He believed trying for the amnesty was the best thing for us, and he helped us as much as he could."
"Ha!" snarled Heyes, "He had to help us once we’d committed ourselves to it, to save face. He couldn’t afford to have us make him look stupid in the eyes of the powers-that-be after he’d praised us up, made us out to be regular angels." He shook his head, "He helped us as much for his own benefit as ours."
Curry shook his head angrily, "No." he yelled, "I can’t believe that. I won’t believe it. Lom’s straight. If he thought we deserved it, he’d turn us in himself. He could have… should have... turned you in for killing Felton, but he didn’t, because he knew, morally, right was on your side."
Heyes shook his head disgustedly, "He might as well have turned me in." he said bitterly, "What we’ve got now isn’t much better than jail. At least in jail we’d get bed and board, for free."
"Yeah, and that’s all." retaliated Curry, "We might not have much, but at least we’re free. We can go where we want, when we want. We can work, or not, as we choose. We’re not beholden to anyone. We can live off the land. Some people would say those were better riches than money. And we owe that freedom as much to Lom as to anyone."
"Oh, stop making excuses for him." snapped Heyes, "If you think like that, you should have stayed with him instead of coming with me. I gave you the choice." he added sarcastically.
"When you get like this, I wish I had," Curry snapped back. Then, "and I’m not making excuses. It’s the truth. If you weren’t so… so… pig headed… you might see it."
Heyes shook his head,"It’s not being pig headed." he countered, "It’s self preservation. The less people who know where we are, the better. Him included."
At Curry's confused, exasperated expression, Heyes continued with his ‘explanation’, which would have been quite logical, if they’d been talking about anyone else but Lom.
"We’re still wanted criminals don’t forget, with a large reward on our heads. People in the government know that he knows us, and where to find us. Who’s to say some of them might not get greedy and bribe him to tell them where we are, and then come after us themselves and take the reward money?"
"Lom wouldn’t take a bribe." Curry cut in.
"Maybe." Heyes shrugged, unconvinced, "They could just use force."
Curry shook his head, "No. Lom would rather die than betray us like that."
Heyes grunted cynically, "You think so?" He raised a questioning eyebrow before shaking his head, "Don’t kid yourself."
Curry couldn’t believe that Heyes could talk that way about Lom after all he’d done for them, and particularly for Heyes, in the months after his abduction by Felton’s gang. He’d taken him in, given over his bed to him, nursed his wounds, comforted his tears, risked losing his job, by dashing to Denver to help when Heyes had tried to kill Felton and shot Curry, and his integrity as a lawman, by lying to preserve Heyes’ alibi, to another sheriff at that. He tried to point out these facts to Heyes, but he was too angry, and too resentful, to listen.
The row developed into one of the most violent they’d ever had, the basic argument getting lost under a barrage of personal insults as each took out their disappointment and resentment over the loss of the amnesty on the other, degenerating almost to the point of a punch up as they each got more and more agitated as they tried to get their point of view through unwilling ears.
But, surprisingly, it was Curry who backed off from physical violence. A couple of years earlier, it would have been the other way around, with him flying off the handle and Heyes trying to talk him down. It went to prove how the events of the last months and years had changed them both.
Having to stay out of trouble while trying for the amnesty had taught Curry to curb his quick Irish temper and think before acting, while Heyes had become less patient since his ordeal with Felton and lost his temper much more quickly than before. A lot of the time he would flare up from a subconscious desire to appear ‘tough’ after all the months of what he saw as weak and cowardly behaviour after his abduction, and, with the right approach, it didn’t take long to calm him down. But sometimes, like now, his anger was totally irrational, bordering on hysterical, and nothing would make him see reason. Curry knew it was as a result of his treatment at Felton’s hands and also a side effect of the emotional breakdown he’d suffered, which was why, when Heyes squared up to him, ready to force his point of view with his fists, Curry pushed him forcibly away. Fighting wouldn’t change either of their views, and it wasn’t an argument worth thumping hell out of each other over. Not that it was easy for Curry to back off. At times like these, he really felt like thumping him.
"Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do." he growled at Heyes, "You’re not the law. I’ll do as I damn well please." He turned and began to walk away.
"Fine!" Heyes yelled back at him,"But I’m telling you now, if you send that telegraph, you’re on your own."
"Oh, go to hell!" Curry tossed over his shoulder, irritated by his irrational attitude.
"Why don’t you?" Heyes yelled back, "I’ve already been there!" he added, venomously, before turning on his heel and striding off in the opposite direction.
Curry flinched, mentally, at the remark. The last time they’d fallen out like this had been the day Felton had abducted Heyes, and he had indeed been to hell, and back.
He almost stopped and called him back, a sudden feeling of foreboding washing over him, but he resisted, knowing that the chances of something like that happening again were astronomical.
Instead, he went straight to the Telegraph Office and sent the telegraph to Lom.
He stayed out of Heyes’ way all day, and opted to camp out that night, on the outskirts of town, rather than go back to the hotel and face another row with Heyes, or a stony silence.
He went into town the next morning to get some breakfast, contemplating whether or not to go it alone. Heyes had been tough to live with these last months, and Curry was tired. Tired of trying to anticipate Heyes’ moods, to calm him down when he got mad or upset, or cheer him up when he was depressed. If this was how it was always going to be from now on, Curry didn’t think he could stand it. He’d rather be on his own.
Yet, despite his mental deliberations, his feet subconsciously carried him to the saloon that evening, knowing that was where Heyes would be if he too hadn’t decided to clear out.
Sure enough, Heyes was propped against the bar, chatting to a couple of local men.
Curry made his way to the bar, glad that he hadn’t arrived before Heyes and making it look as though he had backed down first.
He stood a couple of feet away from Heyes, who was leaning on one elbow on the counter, his back towards him, a glass of whisky in his other hand.
Curry ordered a drink and downed it, feigning indifference to their conversation. Heyes was telling them one of his favourite tall tales, and Curry couldn’t help smiling into his drink as he listened, his elbows on the bar, one foot resting on the rail around the base of it. He’d heard the story hundreds of times, but Heyes had a way of making it sound fresh every time he told it.
It wasn’t until after Heyes had finished telling the story, and half turned to pour himself a drink, that he caught sight of Curry's reflection in the mirror at the back of the bar. He turned back to the men he was talking to, making out he hadn’t seen him, but, through the mirror, Curry could see him lower his eyes, swirling his drink around pensively, a tinge of colour touching his cheeks.
The two men related some tall stories of their own, to which Heyes smiled, politely, but it was obvious his mind was no longer on their conversation.
Presently, he poured another drink and downed it in one gulp, banging the glass down on the counter. He bid the two men goodnight and then turned to face Curry, who slowly half turned his head to look at him.
"Are you coming?" Heyes asked gruffly, his expression shuttered, the flush on his cheeks the only sign of his uneasiness.
Curry raised his shoulders in a resigned shrug, "I guess."
With deliberate slowness, he finished his drink and paid the bartender, before picking up his hat and following Heyes outside.
They mounted their horses and had ridden for some distance in silence before Heyes apologised, in a clipped tone, for having lost his temper, although he didn’t mention Lom, or the telegraph, and Curry didn’t tell him he’d sent it, or the next one he sent.
It would be several months before Heyes began to come to terms with the situation and acknowledge that Lom had indeed been doing his best to help them.
Lom received a second telegraph, three months after the first, which read, ‘Still at claim. Making decent progress. Keeping well. No trouble.’ It was signed only as ‘T’ as some of Heyes’ words about people finding them had suddenly sprung into is mind as he’d written it.
Lom knew instinctively that it was purely Curry's words and that Heyes had had no involvement in it. It would have been signed by both of them otherwise and would have made more references to the two of them. Curry was obviously only speaking for himself, and he was sad that Heyes was still resentful towards him.
After that, he heard nothing more from them, and was left to wonder if they’d achieved their goal of setting themselves up in business somewhere and now wanted nothing more to do with Lom and their ‘old’ life, or if they’d got into trouble and ended up dead.
He kept himself up to date on news of any high profile arrests, or killings, and all the legal executions in the surrounding states, but no word came to him that they’d been arrested or killed. He prayed they were alright and doing O.K. but he was hurt by their rejection of his friendship.
As time passed, rumours about them robbing banks and trains, which had always followed them, even after their ‘retirement’, petered out, and he heard no gossip, no stories, false or otherwise, about them, nothing. If they were still alive, they had managed to bury themselves completely.
​
* * *
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