The noise of a twig snapping drew Heyes from his thoughts, his eyes automatically turning in the direction of the sound while his hand went subconsciously to his gun before relaxing as his gaze fell on a large stag amongst the trees thirty feet away.  The Kid could no doubt have picked it off before Heyes had even managed to draw his gun, but he, like Heyes, wouldn't have shot such a magnificent animal unless they were desperately in need of food.

 

Bringing his horse to a halt, Heyes eyed the majestic beast who remained standing amongst the trees, eyeing him with a mixture of haughtiness and suspicion, ready to bolt at the slightest movement while at the same time unwilling to relinquish its position without reason. They maintained the stand-off for several moments before, seemingly in unison, almost as though a silent conversation had taken place between them, Heyes kicked his horse forward and the stag turned and disappeared further into the woodland.

 

Heyes rode on, his mind no longer on the stag but on another kind of stand-off, the snap of the twig now replaced, in his mind, by the explosion of gunfire.  He closed his eyes, trying to push it from his mind, but it refused to be banished.

 

Spotting a stream up ahead, he stopped the horse and got down to fill his canteen before splashing his face with the cold mountain water in the apparent hope that its icy blast might wash away his thoughts. But they were ever present, haunting him, driving him on to his destination.

 

Pulling out his pocket watch he checked the time again before remounting the horse and continuing on his journey, through pine forest, past craggy cliffs and waterfalls, but the beauty of his surroundings made little impression on him.  He paused for a while, to let his horse rest, eat and drink, before mounting up and pressing on once more.  The sun had passed its peak and he wanted to reach his destination before dark.

 

Way off in the distance he spotted the tall rocky monolith landmark that dominated the surrounding area, and turned the horse southwards, knowing he was nearing his destination.  A couple of hours later, he spotted the glint of water through the trees, and brought his horse to a halt as he scanned around the area, looking for the appointed meeting place.

 

Slowly, he moved the horse forward, heading down in the direction of the water.  Presently, his nostrils became aware of the smell of a camp fire.  Dismounting, he turned in the direction, leading his horse behind him.  Ten minutes later, he came to a halt, looking down towards the camp fire he'd earlier smelled, some two hundred yards below him.  In front of the fire sat a man, his back towards Heyes.  A ghost of a smile touched Heyes' lips as he watched the man roasting a rabbit over the flames.

 

Tethering his horse to a tree, Heyes quietly made his way down towards him, the man completely oblivious to his advance as he cut up the now cooked rabbit, and poured coffee from a pot on the fire.

 

When he got to about ten feet away, Heyes deliberately trod on a twig, causing the man to snatch his gun from his holster as he twisted round to see who was approaching. 

 

"Heyes!" he growled, "You should know better than to sneak up on a body like that. You're liable to get yourself shot!"

 

Heyes gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes,  "Howdy, Lom."

 

​

 

*     *     *

​

 

"Bit jumpy, aint ya, Lom? I wouldn't think there was much likelihood of anyone else stumbling by." said Heyes, as he moved to stand alongside the Sheriff,  "It aint exactly what you'd call populated around here."

 

Lom gave him a withering look as he holstered his gun,  "You could have been a bear or something." he retorted.

 

Heyes raised his eyebrows in a shrug of acknowledgement.

 

"You hungry?"  Lom enquired, nodding towards the rabbit. 

 

Heyes shook his head, "I wouldn't say no to some of that coffee though."

 

"Where's your horse?" Lom asked, as he poured coffee into a tin cup and handed it to Heyes.

 

"Up there a ways." Heyes nodded to where he'd left it, "Thought I'd see how close I could get without you hearing me."

 

Lom rolled his eyes and shook his head ruefully, as Heyes seated himself on the ground and took a swig of the coffee.

 

Neither spoke for several moments as the reason for their meeting hovered awkwardly between them.

 

Presently, Lom said, "I did what you asked in your wire."

 

Heyes nodded, his sombre gaze on the water that glittered on the small lake below them in the last few moments before the sun would dip out of sight.

 

Lom turned to look at him,  "But I don't understand why you want to do it?"

 

Heyes gave a deep sigh,  "I don't expect you to understand, Lom.  But it's what I have to do..."

 

"It's crazy. What's the point? It's not going to change anything."

 

"It's..." Heyes began, but found he couldn't find the words to explain himself, and so lifted his shoulders in a shrug, "...it's the right thing to do." he finished finally.

 

"For whom?" Lom raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

"For everyone." said Heyes, flatly.

 

Lom eyed him, pensively.  He knew things had been tough lately, but he didn't think this was any kind of solution. But it was obvious Heyes wasn't going to change his mind so he let it go, for now.

 

They sat up well into the night talking over old times, of when they'd all run together as outlaws, and of the paths their lives had taken, but any time Lom tried to probe too deeply into the recent past, Heyes clammed up, or deftly changed the subject.

 

Eventually, they laid out their bedrolls and prepared to settle down for the night. Heyes climbed back up to fetch his horse and picketed it alongside Lom's before climbing underneath his blanket. Lom was soon asleep, but it was well into the early hours before sleep finally claimed Heyes.

 

Lom was woken, abruptly, by what he thought was the howl of a wolf, or some other night time creature, but, as he sat up, reaching for his gun, he realised that it was no animal that had let out the cry but Heyes, as he thrashed around in his sleep, muttering incoherently.

 

"No... No!" Heyes ground out, his face contorted in anguish,  "I won't... I can't..."

 

Scrambling onto his knees, Lom reached over and shook Heyes' shoulder.

 

"Heyes! Heyes, wake up!"

 

Heyes woke, with a start, sweat on his brow, his breath coming in strangled gasps and a look of panic in his eyes.

 

"It's OK, you were having a bad dream." Lom told him, his hand gripping Heyes' shoulder, "Just relax."

 

Heyes twisted away from Lom's grip and sat up, drawing his knees up and putting his elbows on them, holding his head in his hands as he tried to calm his laboured breathing.

 

Lom twisted round to sit in a similar position alongside him, eyeing him anxiously.

 

Raking his hands up through his hair, Heyes tilted his head up towards the sky and let out his breath in a deep sigh.

 

A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

 

"Tell me what happened." Lom said quietly.

 

Heyes looked at him for a long moment, before bowing his head and closing his eyes.  He'd lived with the nightmare, every day, for what seemed like a lifetime, but not once had he spoken, out loud, of it, and he wasn't sure, even now, if he could.

 

"Please." Lom pleaded, "I want to know."  He watched as Heyes opened his eyes and stared into the darkness as his mind took him back in time, a year and one week ago...

 

 

 

The sun had been shining brightly as he and Kid had ridden into the town of Leadville, Colorado. They had money in their pockets, courtesy of Heyes' poker playing skills, the Sheriff was someone they'd never heard of, the bustling mining town had a wealth of entertainment to be enjoyed and the boys were looking forward to spending some time doing just that.

 

They booked into the Delaware Hotel, one of the town's more luxurious establishments, and after spending the afternoon in the luxury of a hot, bubble filled bath, followed by an overdue hair cut and getting their clothes laundered, they dressed themselves up in their newly laundered finery and descended to the hotel's dining room for dinner, after which they lingered over brandy and cigars before retiring to their room where they slept soundly on soft mattresses covered with good quality bed linen.

 

After a leisurely breakfast the next morning, they explored the town. Leadville had a population of some twenty-five thousand people, proportionately rough and ready miners, and the town itself had a colourful history if local legends were anything to go by - Jesse James and Bob and Charley Ford having allegedly robbed stage coaches in the vicinity several years previously, and Doc Holliday had also caused his fair share of mayhem in the town before his death. By comparison, Heyes and the Kid felt like regular nobodies and this boosted their confidence of wandering around without being recognized.

 

Their exploration of the town concluded, they headed over to the oddly named Board of Trade saloon, where they ordered drinks at the bar while they admired the establishment's black and white tiled floor.

 

As they sampled their drinks, the Kid gave a deep sigh.  Heyes, who had been surveying a couple of poker games going on in the corner, heard and turned to look quizzically at him.

 

"What?" he asked.

 

"Nothing." replied the Kid," I was just thinking that I could get used to this kind of lifestyle."   He threw a meaningful look to Heyes, who gave a rueful nod.

 

"Yeah, Kid, it sure wouldn't be hard to get used to nice soft beds and fine dining."  he acknowledged, taking another sip of his drink,  "Something to look forward to, when we get the amnesty, huh?"

 

"If." the Kid said flatly.

 

"Come on, Kid, have a little faith." Heyes tried to bolster his resolve.

 

"I've had faith, for more'n a year now, Heyes.  I think the Governor is just giving us the run around."

 

Heyes curled one side of his lip in a grudging acknowledgement of the Kid's comments. He'd had that same feeling himself more than once this past year, but all he said was, "Lom seems pretty sure the Governor will honour his promise eventually. In the meantime we just gotta keep the faith." He flashed the Kid a grin, "At least faith don't cost money."

 

The Kid gave him a withering look, "Ha, ha!" he said sarcastically before giving in to a grin of his own.

 

"Do you want to play?" Heyes nodded towards the poker tables. 

 

The Kid tossed back his drink,  "Ya know, Heyes, I think I will." he said with a smile. Heyes was the better card player of the two of them, gifted in fact, and a lot of the time the Kid sat back and let Heyes play, especially if they were short of money, while he would keep a watch out for trouble, but sometimes, when he was feeling lucky, he would indulge, and today he was feeling lucky.

 

Crossing the room, Heyes sat in at one table and the Kid sat in at the other.

 

The afternoon passed pleasantly, with both men doing well at the tables. At various times a player or two left each game, to be replaced with others.

 

At five o'clock, Heyes decided to take a break and have a drink.  Excusing himself, he picked up his winnings and headed over to the bar, giving the Kid a wink and a smile as he passed by his table. Judging from the pile of money in front of him, the Kid was on a winning streak.

 

Looking up, the Kid returned the smile, before returning his attention to the game. As he shifted his gaze, he became aware that one of the players on the opposite side of the table was looking at him intently. He was the newest player to the table, and the Kid guessed he was possibly suspecting him of having amassed the pile of money in front of him through cheating. The Kid gave away nothing in his expression however, merely giving the man a pleasant smile as he picked up the cards in the next hand, but made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

 

As it turned out, it wasn't that man, but the man seated two places to his right who challenged the Kid's winning cards three hands later.

 

"I beg your pardon?" said the Kid, as a sudden hush fell over the table.  At the bar, Heyes turned round, anxiously, to look, as the room fell quiet.

 

"I said, I think you're cheating." the man reiterated, "You've won pretty much every hand since I sat in at this table."

 

The Kid fixed the man with an icy glare, "Anyone else think I'm cheating?" he directed to the other players, his gaze never wavering from his accusers face. When none responded, he shifted his eyes to glance around at them all, "Well, do any of you think I'm cheating?" he repeated, noting their muttered no's and shaking of heads before returning his level gaze to the man, silently daring him to make any more of it.

 

His accuser got to his feet, his chair scraping on the floor as he did so. The other men sat still, trying to pretend they were anywhere else but there.

 

Slowly, the Kid got to his feet also, and stood facing the man across the table.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Heyes shaking his head, no, but dismissed it, as he focussed his ice blue stare on the other man.

 

"I wasn't cheating." he said, matter-of-factly, his expression passive, his body language appearing relaxed, as opposed to his opponent who appeared tense and nervous.

 

"Well, I say you were." he replied, a little less confidently as he looked into the other man's cool blue gaze.

 

"No-one else seems to agree with you." the Kid told him, "So I suggest you leave, and let us get on with our game."

 

The man eyed him, obviously trying to decide whether to draw or retire gracefully. He considered himself to be an above average gunman and had thought this pleasant looking, mild mannered cowboy would be easy to intimidate, but there was a look in the depths of his eyes that belied his unassuming demeanour and the man found himself unnerved by it.

 

The Kid waited, his face impassive as he studied the other man.

 

Suddenly, the other man went for his gun, but before he'd even reached his holster the Kid's gun was in his hand and aimed directly at his chest. 

 

A chorus of surprised gasps, at the speed of his draw, echoed around the room like the sound of some hissing snake, while the man who had earlier been watching the Kid intently, raised a quizzical eyebrow as a sly smile came to his face.

 

The other man eyed the Kid angrily, before, humiliated, he snatched up his hat and stalked out of the saloon.  Heyes, watched him go, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, in a sigh of relief, before turning back towards the Kid who met his gaze with an almost imperceptible shrug, as a silent conversation passed between them.

 

"Well, if you gentlemen have no objection, I think I'd like to call it a day." the Kid said to his fellow players, all of whom were quick to deny having any objections, and so he gathered up his winnings and headed over to the bar to join Heyes, who silently poured him a drink and pushed it across the counter in front of him before turning back to his own. Neither spoke for several moments, as they studied the liquid in their respective glasses.

 

Eventually, Heyes said, "I swear, Kid, you're gonna give me a heart attack, one of these days, having to watch you do that."

 

The Kid shot him a quizzical glance before returning it to his drink,  "And what about me?" he scoffed, "You get accused of cheating a lot more often than I do..." he paused to take a sip of his drink, "...and you're not as good a shot as I am." he finished.

 

"Touché." Heyes conceded, "But I think I've had enough of poker for one day. What say we go get dinner and then turn in?"

 

The Kid nodded agreement. They finished their drinks and then Heyes took out enough money to pay for the liquor they'd consumed and put it down on the counter before following the Kid towards the door.  Unseen by either of them, the man who had earlier been studying the Kid watched them leave before turning to his fellow players and excusing himself from the game.

 

The Kid pushed out through the batwing doors of the saloon, Heyes a couple of paces behind him. Turning left, they set off along the boardwalk in the direction of their hotel, several streets away.  Dusk was just falling and as they passed by a narrow alleyway between two buildings a voice called out, "Hey, cheat!" and out of the shadows appeared the man who had earlier tried to draw on the Kid.

 

The Kid whirled round, his hand already going for his gun, but the man already had his gun in his hand, and even Kid Curry wasn't fast enough to beat that. 

 

It seemed to Heyes that time moved in slow motion as the man, seeing the Kid reaching for his gun, pulled the trigger, the Kid recoiling, as it hit him, and then falling to the ground.

 

"Kid!" yelled Heyes, momentarily frozen as he watched the scene play out in front of him. Then, as the man switched his attention to him, Heyes, who had never drawn his gun in anger against anyone, pulled out his gun and responded instinctively and with deadly accuracy.

 

As the man fell to the ground, dead, Heyes ran over to the Kid, dropping to his knees at his side. The Kid was lying on his back, his face contorted in pain.  Even in the fast fading light Heyes could see the blood soaking the front of his pale blue shirt.

 

"Kid!" he called, ripping open his shirt to see where he was hit, his stomach turning over when he saw the hole in the middle of his chest.

 

"Hang on, Kid, I'll get help." he gasped, making to get to his feet, but the Kid grabbed his arm.

 

"No..." he gasped, weakly.

 

"Yes," insisted Heyes, "I'll get the doctor-"

 

"No, Heyes... it's no good... I'm done for... Go, now, before they come..."

 

"What?" Heyes looked horrified, "No... I'm not..."

 

"Go!" the Kid spoke over him, his breathing laboured, "Please... "

 

"I'm not leaving you..." Heyes began, grasping the Kid's hand tightly in his own.

 

"Yes..." the Kid nodded, grasping the front of Heyes' vest with his other hand and holding onto it,  "Is... is he dead?" he half rolled his head in the direction of their attacker.

 

Heyes nodded.

 

"You can't afford... to be arrested... please, Heyes... leave... now..." 

 

"No!" Heyes ground out, his face contorted in anguish,  "I won't... I can't..."

 

"Please...  Heyes...  go...  I want you to go... I want you to live..." His grip on Heyes' vest began to loosen, "Live... for me..."

 

Heyes shook his head, even as the sound of approaching voices announced the arrival of people having heard the shots fired.

 

"Go..." the Kid's voice was a whisper now, "Please... Heyes... for me... for us..."

 

"Alright..." choked Heyes, tears spilling onto his cheeks, "but only for you..." Their eyes met and held, all the things they wanted to say but didn't have the time, or words, to express passing between them in a mutual moment of understanding.

 

The Kid gave him a weak smile, letting go of Heyes' vest, "Go." He mouthed the word, although no sound came out.

 

With one last squeeze of his hand, Heyes jumped to his feet and ran into the darkness of the alleyway, even as several men rounded the corner and ran over to where the Kid and his attacker lay. One of them was the man who had earlier been watching the Kid in the poker game. He'd felt he'd seen him somewhere before, and, when the Kid had drawn his gun, the man remembered why he'd looked so familiar. A couple of years back he had been on a train that had been held up and one of the men in the gang had looked remarkably like this man, and, on seeing the speed of his draw in the saloon, he suspected him to be Kid Curry and was planning a trip to the Sheriff's office, right away, to report his concerns, in the hope of staking a claim to the $10,000 reward on him. But, as he looked down now at the dying man, he decided he must have been wrong.  Curry was alleged to be the fastest gun around. Too fast to have been picked off by some small town gambler like the man who had accused him of cheating. 

 

With one last look, and a rueful shrug, the man turned away and headed back towards the saloon while the Kid lay watching, hazily, as his partner vanished into the darkness of the alleyway, before, with a slight smile, his eyes dimmed and slid shut for the last time.

 

Heyes exited the alley at the back of the grocery store and then ducked down several other streets to try and put some distance between him and any pursuers, his mind racing as he tried to think what to do next.

 

It would be apparent to the authorities that the Kid's gun hadn't been fired and, therefore, that the other man had been killed by someone else.  Since he had been seen leaving the saloon with the Kid, he would automatically be the logical suspect. He needed to get out of town, immediately, if he wasn't to be hunted down and arrested. He couldn't risk that they would believe he'd killed the man in self defence, even though everyone in the saloon had witnessed him accuse the Kid of cheating. They had also witnessed the Kid's fast draw and would probably find it difficult to believe he would have been outdrawn by the man and would likely assume that Heyes had fired the first shot and that the Kid had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

He couldn't risk going to the hotel to get his belongings, or going to the livery to get his horse. They would be the first places they would look for him. So what was he to do? 

 

Just then he turned a corner and spotted another saloon, outside which were tethered several horses.  After looking around to make sure there was no-one else nearby, he un-tethered one of the horses, mounted up and rode away, casting anxious glances behind him as he did so.  At the end of the street he turned northwards and kept riding until he'd left Leadville behind.

 

Some miles from town he brought the horse to a halt near a small stream and dismounted, letting the animal take a drink while he sank down onto the ground by the side of a large boulder. 

 

Only now did the enormity of what had happened hit him. He'd left his friend! At the time he needed him the most, he'd left him, with no goodbye, to die alone.   Even though it was at the Kid's bidding, he was consumed with guilt for allowing

himself to be persuaded to run away.  He should have stayed. Despite the Kid's insistence he leave, he should have stayed with him. If he had, perhaps something could have been done to save him. The thought tortured Heyes, even though he knew, deep inside, just as the Kid had known, that there was nothing that could have been done.  And what of the man he'd killed?  Heyes had never killed anyone and, even though he had acted in self defence, he was repulsed by what he'd done, even though it had unintentionally avenged his friend's death.

 

"Oh, God, Kid..." he choked, burying his face in his hands, choking sobs wracking his body.

 

He didn't know how long he sat there, lost in his grief, but when he eventually became aware of his surroundings once more, it was with a sense of emptiness and desolation. He had no idea, or inclination, of what to do next. Any kind of future suddenly seemed pointless without his friend at his side and he was almost tempted to turn around and head back to Leadville and turn himself in to the authorities, except for the Kid's words, which kept echoing around in his head   "I want you to go... I want you to live... Live... for me..."

 

That thought, and that thought alone, prompted him to get back on the horse and ride on. 

 

The nearest town, Breckenridge, was more than a day's ride away.  There, he caught a stage and headed on to Denver.  Only when he got there did it occur to him that he should notify Lom of what had happened. But, finding the words to send in a telegraph wasn't easy.  Heyes had sat in his hotel room all morning, trying to find a way to break the news.  In the end, he just wrote, "Sorry to advise, Jones killed. Will be in touch. Smith."

 

Lom had sent an immediate reply asking for more information and offering to come over, but Heyes never received it, having left the telegraph office immediately after sending the wire, got on a train and left town, not knowing, or caring, where it took him.

 

For months he'd wandered aimlessly from place to place, so consumed with grief and guilt he was barely aware of the towns he passed through, pausing only long enough to sleep, eat, and, if he needed money, to play a few games of poker, before moving on once more. It was a lonely existence, and one that grew lonelier with each day that passed.

 

Then, a week ago, he'd woken up to realise that a whole year had passed, and with that knowledge also came the realisation that he couldn't do it any more.  For the Kid's sake he'd tried hard to honour his request, tried to live, so that in living he would be living for the Kid too, but now he realized that, far from living, he was merely existing. He knew it wasn't what the Kid would have wanted, and he was sorry, but he couldn't find the will to change things.

 

It was then that he'd come to a decision.  He sent a telegram to Lom, telling him that he wanted to turn himself in to the authorities and face the twenty year jail term hanging over him. But he'd dictated his own terms for surrendering, which were for Lom to meet him and then escort him to a predetermined location to meet a delegation from the Wyoming authorities, whereupon he would surrender himself to them.

 

Lom had at first been reluctant, not wanting his friend to hand himself over while there might still be a chance for amnesty, but Heyes was insistent and so Lom had complied with his request and made the necessary arrangements before heading out to meet him, here, near Sundance, still hopeful of persuading Heyes to reconsider his decision.

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

"I'm sorry, Heyes."  Lom's voice, gruff with emotion at hearing the circumstances of the Kid's death, now brought Heyes out of his reverie,  "It must have been hard for you to leave him like that."

 

Heyes nodded, not looking at him.

 

"I don't condone running from the law, but the Kid was right to send you away." Lom continued, "The other guy fired first, but it would have been difficult to prove."

 

Heyes nodded again, "The Kid was worried about my identity being found out." he said now, his voice thick,  "If they'd found out who I was, they would never have believed I didn't fire the first shot, and murder would have been added to my list of crimes and that would have been that." He shook his head, "The Kid didn't want that... I would have felt the same way if the situation was reversed, but--" he broke off as his voice faltered.

 

Lom eyed him as he swallowed hard and raked his hands up through his hair.

 

"He didn't want for us both to have to suffer because of what that guy did... He wanted me to get away, and to go on and live life... for him as well as for myself." Heyes continued presently,  "I would have wanted the same thing for him if it had been me... and I've tried... God knows I've tried... but--" he broke off, unable to finish, and shook his head despairingly before continuing,  "I killed a man, Lom. For whatever reason I killed a man in cold blood..."

 

"Self defense." Lom pointed out.

 

"Murder," Heyes corrected him, "vengeance, and I have to pay for that."

 

Lom shook his head, "You didn't have time to think of vengeance, Heyes. Perhaps you might have done, later, had you known how it would turn out, but at that moment you acted in self defense.  But with no witnesses it could have been difficult to prove and you could well have ended up being hung for a murder you didn't commit.  The Kid was right to send you away.  That other guy was the murderer. He shot the Kid without giving him a chance to do anything, and he would probably have killed you too if you hadn't shot him first."   

 

He eyed Heyes, who said nothing.  He knew Lom was right, but Lom didn't have to live with it. He didn't have to wake up every morning with the image of his friend's blood soaked body flashing before his eyes, didn't have to live with the guilt of running away and of leaving him to die alone, or with the legacy of what he'd done, or with the desolation of having to wander the country alone, without the Kid at his side, unable to make friends or put down roots lest his identity be discovered.

 

"He wouldn't want you to do this." Lom said now, in reference to Heyes' decision to turn himself in.

 

Heyes said nothing.

 

"By doing this, you'll be going against his dying wish... against everything he wanted for you." Lom tried again.

 

Heyes gave a deep sigh,  "I know what you're saying Lom..." he said quietly, "but my mind's made up."

 

Lom shook his head, at a loss to comprehend Heyes' decision to give himself up to twenty years in jail after he and the Kid had put so much effort into working towards amnesty in order to avoid just that very thing. But all he said was, "It's late, try and get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

 

Heyes nodded and they settled back down beneath their respective blankets, but neither of them slept much, Lom

re-running the events leading to the Kid's death over in his mind, while Heyes contemplated the implications of his decision to turn himself in.

 

Just after sun up, Lom rose and set about making coffee.  Hearing him moving about, Heyes stirred, opening his eyes and squinting across at Lom.

 

"Morning." smiled Lom,  "Coffee'll be ready soon."

 

"Thanks." replied Heyes, shifting his gaze to watch the sun rising through the trees, it's rays giving a silver sheen to the water of the lake below them, aware that this would be the last sunrise he would see as a free man.

 

Seeing his pensive expression, Lom said, "I wish you'd reconsider what you're doing, Heyes."

 

Heyes sighed,  "I've made up my mind, Lom." he said quietly.

 

"Doing this doesn't sit well with me, Heyes." Lom told him, "You and the Kid worked so hard to straighten up your lives, it doesn't seem right that you should be throwing it all away for nothing."

 

"Killing a man isn't ‘nothing', Lom." Heyes reproached him.

 

"We talked about this last night." said Lom, "Whatever you believe, you acted in self defense.  That's not worth twenty years of your life."

 

"Lom, I know you mean well, but I've thought about this long and hard, and my mind's made up. Now, can we please not spoil a beautiful morning arguing about it?" He flashed Lom a smile and picked up a cup, "That coffee ready yet?"

 

Lom sighed and gave him a withering look before picking up the coffee pot and pouring coffee into his cup.

 

Lom made some biscuits and sliced up the last of a side of ham he'd brought with him, and split it onto two plates.

 

"Here." He offered Heyes a plate.

 

"I'm not hungry." said Heyes.

 

"Eat!" commanded Lom, "You didn't have anything last night, nor goodness knows how long before that." he added, giving Heyes a knowing look.

 

Heyes gave in and accepted the plate,  "Thanks."

 

Both of them attempted to make light conversation as they ate, but the atmosphere hung heavy between them and by the time they were ready to set off on the journey to meet the delegation from the authorities conversation between them had pretty much dried up.

 

As they prepared to mount up, Heyes removed his gun and holster and held them out towards Lom.

 

"You'd better have these." he told him.

 

Lom eyed the weapon before giving a slight nod of acknowledgement and reaching out to take it, and the holster, from him.  He put them in his saddlebags while Heyes mounted his horse and turned it around to face him just as he too swung into the saddle.  For a long moment their eyes held as the implications of this final part of the journey weighed down on them both.

 

"Heyes..." Lom started, but Heyes spoke over him.

 

"Better get moving.  We don't want to be late."

 

Lom held his gaze for a moment longer before inclining his head in a brief nod and turning his horse in the direction of the lake below them.

 

Conversation between them was sparse as they reached, and passed, the lake, and headed on downwards, through thick woodland, periodically breaking out into clearings where the bright sunshine caused them to squint after the dimness of the forest.

 

Gradually, the forest began to thin out as they reached the lower reaches of the mountainside.

 

As they cleared the tree line, Heyes' stomach turned over as he saw, camped in a clearing far below them, four heavily armed men, with six horses, and a barred, steel prison wagon.

 

Lom pulled his horse to a halt and turned to look at Heyes with a pensive frown, as he pulled up beside him.

 

"Are you sure about this, Heyes?" he asked, "It's your last chance if you want to change your mind?"

 

Heyes' face was impassive as he stared down towards the clearing, making it impossible for Lom to guess his thoughts or emotions.  Presently he gave a slow nod and said quietly, "I'm sure."

 

Lom sighed, heavily, shaking his head to himself.  This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

 

"Better let me lead you in." he said finally, reaching over to take the reins of Heyes' horse.

 

Slowly, they picked their way down the mountainside.  Well before they reached the bottom the four soldiers despatched by the Wyoming authorities to undertake the arrest had spotted their approach and lined themselves up, their weapons trained on them.

 

"OK, stop right there." Captain Brannigan, the senior man, commanded when they got to about twenty feet away.

 

Lom pulled the horses to a halt and eyed the armed men disparagingly.

 

"Sheriff Trevors?" Brannigan enquired.

 

"Yes. I'm Trevors." Lom acknowledged,  "There's no need for the guns, Mr. Heyes is unarmed and has given his word to surrender peacefully." he said brusquely, but the men's weapons remained trained on them.

 

"Sheriff Trevors, please dismount." commanded Brannigan.

 

With a brief, apologetic glance at Heyes, Lom dismounted and moved to stand at the head of Heyes' horse, still holding onto the reins of both.

 

"Please assist the prisoner to dismount." Brannigan instructed, and then, glancing at the man at the other end of their line, instructed, "Williams, get the shackles!"

 

Williams put down his weapon and moved to obey the order while Lom turned to look at Heyes.

 

"You heard the man, Heyes." said Lom, disgust evident in his voice at the way things were being handled.

 

Heyes dragged his eyes from the armed men, to look down at Lom.

 

"I'm sorry about the way this is being done, Heyes." he said quietly enough that the men couldn't hear his words.

 

"Don't be. You have nothing to reproach yourself for, Lom." said Heyes.

 

He looked once again at the armed men in front of him, and the barred, steel wagon waiting to take him away for his twenty year jail sentence, a sudden cold fear clawing at his heart.

 

"Heyes?" Lom's voice brought him back to reality.  Shifting his gaze to him, Lom indicated for him to climb down.  He hesitated a moment longer, his gaze returning once more to the armed men in front of him,  before silently dismounting the horse as Williams approached with ankle and wrist shackles with which to secure their prisoner before they locked him in the wagon.

 

 

As his feet touched the ground, Heyes twisted round, behind Lom, and, in one swift movement, grabbed him around the throat with his left arm, while at the same time pulling the gun from his holster with his right hand, which he then pressed against Lom's temple.

 

Even with the gun pressed to his head, Lom was unafraid, knowing Heyes wouldn't use it on him. He was, however, afraid of what the other men might do now they believed Lom to be Heyes' hostage.

 

"Heyes..." he began.

 

"I'm sorry, Lom." Heyes said quietly, in his ear.

 

"Drop your weapon!" Brannigan shouted at him, trying to get an angle to shoot Heyes, but the Sheriff's body was completely shielding him.

 

"Do it, Heyes, or they'll kill you." Lom told him.

 

Heyes gave a cynical smile, as he eyed the men over Lom's shoulder.

 

"They might pull the trigger, but they can't kill me." he said softly.

 

"There's no escape, Heyes!  Drop your weapon!" Brannigan shouted again.

 

"Heyes, please..." Lom began, but Heyes spoke over him.

​

"Thanks, for everything, Lom." he said into his ear before giving him a hefty shove that sent him sprawling to the ground. Then, squaring his jaw, he lifted his eyes to meet those of the armed men in front of him.                                                                     

​

For a fraction of a second nobody moved. Then, slowly and deliberately, Heyes began to raise his right arm in their direction.

 

Lom, still face down on the ground, screwed his eyes shut as he heard three simultaneous gunshots.

 

As the echoes of the gunfire finally died away, Lom slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and twisted round to take in the scene.

 

Even though he knew what he would see, as his gaze took in Heyes' motionless form on the ground his breath left his body in an anguished gasp, as though someone had punched him in the stomach.

 

The three armed men slowly walked towards the body, their weapons still in their hands, and stood looking down at it, while the one who had been bringing the shackles got up from where he'd thrown himself, when Heyes had snatched the gun, and came to join them.

 

Lom finally managed to find the will to get to his feet, and slowly approached, to stand looking down at his friend's bloodied body, lying on his back, his dark eyes gazing unseeingly up at the sky.

 

"I'm sorry we had to kill him, Sheriff." said  Brannigan, in a civil but completely unremorseful voice, "But he didn't give us any alternative."

 

Lom shook his head, "You didn't kill him." he replied, "Hannibal Heyes died a long time ago."

 

The man looked puzzled by his remark, but refrained from comment as Lom went down on one knee and gently closed Heyes' eyes before bowing his head in a moment of prayer.

 

"Well, since we have no prisoner to take in, our job is finished." Brannigan said presently, "We can transport the body to town if you wish?" he enquired.

 

"No." Lom shook his head, "But you can leave me that." he said, indicating a small shovel amongst their supplies.

 

The man nodded. Then, feeling a little awkward, he cleared his throat and said, "Do you want some help?"

 

"No.  You've done enough already." said Lom bitterly, "Just leave it and go."

 

"As you wish." Brannigan fetched the shovel and then turned away to instruct the other men to get ready to leave.  Lom ignored them as he sat on the ground at Heyes' side, with his back to them, lost in his own thoughts and memories. How long he sat there he didn't know, but when he next became aware of his surroundings the men were gone from sight.

 

With a sigh, he got to his feet and picked up the shovel. Shading his eyes against the sun he stood, scanning the area. Having finally decided on a suitable place, he headed off towards a group of tall pine trees at the base of the rise.  He stopped in front of one and looked around him. The ground here was soft and grassy, shielded, as it was, from the harsh sunlight by the foliage of the trees, and, off to his right, Lom could hear the trickling of a stream.  With a thoughtful nod, he took the shovel and began to dig.

 

The sun was dipping towards the tree line as Lom finished his task.  Exhausted, he cast the shovel aside and removed his hat to wipe sweat from his brow before replacing it and then seating himself on the ground by the side of the newly finished grave.

 

He wasn't sure whether Heyes' actions had been a spur of the moment decision, or if he had planned all along for it to end like this, but either way he understood the reasons why. Heyes, and the Kid too, had dreaded spending years in jail, but they would have somehow survived serving their time if they'd had each other, and something to look forward to on their release.  After the Kid's death, Heyes had ceased to exist in any way that mattered. He walked and talked, ate and slept, but it was a soulless existence. Without the Kid, Heyes hadn't felt he had a future to plan for and therefore no reason, or will, to serve his time, or survive. This ending would, Lom considered, be far more preferable to Heyes and, given his feelings of guilt for taking another life, no less than he would have believed he deserved. 

 

Presently, Lom got to his feet, picking up his jacket from where he'd laid it, earlier, on a nearby rock, as he'd laboured to dig the grave, and putting it on before turning to look once more at his friend's final resting place.

 

"Well, I guess you won your freedom one way or the other, Heyes." he said out loud.

 

He jumped, startled, at a sudden loud cry, and looked up to see an eagle suddenly swoop across the tree tops above him, complete a perfect circle above his head and then fly off in the direction from which it had come and disappear as suddenly as it had appeared.

 

Lom glanced uncertainly down at the grave he'd just made, then up at the sky and then back down at the grave again, pondering the odds of coincidence on what he'd just witnessed.

 

A little shaken, he replaced his hat more firmly on his head.

 

"I hope it's worth the price you paid, Heyes." he said now.   Then, turning away he headed back to where they'd left the horses.

 

On the ground there, lay Heyes' black hat, where it had fallen during the shooting.  Picking it up, Lom hung it carefully on his saddle before mounting up and, taking hold of the reins of Heyes' horse, turned eastwards towards Sundance. From there he intended to make his way to Leadville to ascertain where the Kid's body had been buried and pay his respects, on behalf of both Heyes and himself.

 

He paused, glancing briefly back towards the tall pine tree where he'd buried his friend.

 

"So long, Heyes." he said softly. Then, with a last searching glance up to the sky, he kicked his horse into a trot.

​

--ooOOoo--

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