The two horses scrambled their way up the rocky incline, their riders hunched down in their saddles, hats pulled low and coat collars turned up against the chill November wind.

 

Neither spoke, as they concentrated on avoiding rocks and other obstacles on the ground that might result in their horses  being injured or they themselves unseated.

 

Presently, they came up against solid wall of rock.  Too high to climb, they would have to choose whether to turn right or left in the hope of finding a way forward, but neither option looked particularly easy to navigate.

 

“Which way, Heyes?” Kid Curry glanced across at his partner.

 

Hannibal Heyes scanned around the area before giving a helpless shrug.

 

They’d been on the run from a posse after being recognized by the Sheriff in Atlantic City, Wyoming, and after failing to lose them using their usual stock of tricks had now been forced up into the mountains in an attempt to give them the slip in the heavily forested and rocky terrain.

 

It was an area neither had ever ventured into before and they had no idea where they were going.

 

“Dunno.” he said.  With no knowledge of the terrain either path could end up being a dead end, forcing them back the way they’d come and they didn’t want to do that, just in case the posse had tried to follow them – although Heyes didn’t see why anyone would want to venture into this area unless they were desperate .

 

“Well, we can’t go back.” Curry said now, echoing Heyes’ thoughts.

 

Heyes nodded, scanning the heavy, grey clouds above them anxiously.  It looked like a storm was brewing.

 

“We need to keep heading west, and hope that we can come down on the other side of the mountain.”

 

Curry looked about him,  “I aint even sure which way is west from here.”

 

“I think it’s that way.” Heyes pointed towards the wall of rock blocking their path.  He had an above average sense of direction but, without the sun to indicate their position, even he wasn’t  completely sure.  To move on they would have to go North or South and hope that they could turn westwards further on.

 

“So, which way?” Curry asked again.

 

Heyes pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it into the air before catching it and pressing it to the back of his gloved hand.

 

“Call it.”

 

Curry gave him a withering look.

 

“It’s as good a way to choose as any.” Heyes gave him a half smile, “Heads we go North, tails we go South?”

 

Curry pondered for a moment before saying, “Heads.”

 

Heyes moved his hand and they both bent to look at the coin.

 

“Heads it is,” said Heyes, “we go North."

 

Heyes pocketed the coin and they set off to the right.

 

The path to the North was no less rocky and they had to weave in between the densely packed trees, making their progress slow.  It started to rain and thunder began to rumble in the distance.  Where the terrain allowed they turned their horses to the left, hoping that they were moving towards the west.

 

As they rode it grew darker and darker, as the storm clouds grew closer, until they could barely see their way through the thickness of the trees.  The only consolation was that their branches did help to keep out a little of the rain, but, even so, after an hour they were both chilled to the bone.

 

Gradually, the trees began to thin out and they found themselves in a narrow gorge with sixty-foot high rock walls towering above them.

 

Bringing their horses to a halt, they turned to look at each other apprehensively. 

 

It was raining heavily now and lightning flashed across the sky above them, the thunder rumbling ever closer.

 

“What do you think?” Curry looked across at Heyes.  Riding through a gorge in a storm wasn’t recommended but neither was waiting it out under cover of the trees. The storm could hang around for hours, maybe even all night,  and they were already cold and wet, but they couldn’t risk trying to make a camp fire in amongst the densely populated trees, even assuming they could get one to light in this weather.  Without warmth and shelter they could freeze to death by the time the storm cleared.  But, they had no idea how long the gorge was or how long it would take them to travel it. It might only take them an hour or it could take them days.  They were between a rock and a hard place.

 

“I don’t know, Kid.” For once Heyes was lost for a plan of action.

 

“We can’t really stay here.” Curry ventured.

 

“I know.” Heyes agreed, knowing that spending the night out here, in the rain and cold, could be the death of them.  But what choice did they have? They couldn’t risk going back, and venturing into the gorge, with no knowledge of the landscape, was bordering on suicidal.

 

They were silent for several minutes as they wrestled with the dilemma, while thunder crashed loudly above them.

 

“I vote we go on.” Curry said presently.

 

Heyes shot him a startled glance.

 

“I don’t know, Kid...” he began, but Curry spoke over him.

 

“If we stay here, we could well freeze to death before the weather improves.  If we’re gonna die I’d rather die doing something, not just sitting around waiting for it to happen.”

 

Heyes turned to look down the gorge.  He could see the Kid’s point but he wasn’t sure that staying put and waiting for the storm to subside might not be the better choice.

 

“What do you say?” Curry prompted.

 

Heyes gave a deep sigh,  “I think...” he began, “that we might be about to commit suicide in spectacular fashion but...” he trailed off with a shrug.  In truth, he too would rather die doing something than sit around waiting for it to claim them,  “O.K.” he finished.

 

“How long before nightfall, do you reckon?”  asked Curry.

 

“Six, maybe seven hours.” replied Heyes.

 

“Hopefully it’ll be enough time for us to find a way through.” Curry voiced his thoughts.

 

Heyes wasn’t convinced, but all he said was, “Yeah.”

 

They sat for several moments, staring into the gorge, each contemplating the possible consequences of their decision to go forward before, after exchanging anxious glances, Curry ventured on out into the gorge, Heyes somewhat reluctantly following.  

 

Having been sheltered a little, by the trees, the strength of the rain caught them off guard once they stepped out of their cover and before long their thick winter coats were soaked and rain ran down their necks from off their hats and faces, soaking their clothes as well.

 

The rocky floor of the gorge was slippery from the rain and they had to ease their horses very carefully over it, lest they should miss their footing.

 

The storm was almost directly overhead now, the thunder loud enough to prevent any conversation between them, even if they’d had anything they wanted to say to each other.  They were too cold and wet, and too busy trying to keep on their horses and navigate the treacherous gorge, to have any energy left for speaking.

 

After a time, Heyes saw that the path was beginning to go downwards now, at a fairly steep rate, and hoped that sooner, rather than later, the gorge would open out nearer the foot of the mountain, allowing them to get back onto level ground and, hopefully, find some shelter.

 

If anything, the rain was getting heavier now, the thunder almost continuous as the storm passed overhead.  Heyes noticed that what had started out as a small flow of rainwater running down the gorge was getting deeper, as the torrent dropped by the storm worked its way down from further up the mountain, and he was concerned.

 

Before long, the water was deep enough that it was over their horses’ hooves, making it difficult to see the rocky floor of the gorge and navigate their horses safely.

 

In what seemed like minutes the water was almost up to the horses’ knees as the flash flood picked up speed.  Both men were worried but, with no place to take shelter, had no choice but to press on.

 

Rocks and debris began to flow past them, carried by the force of the water.  They pressed  themselves  as close to the wall of the gorge as they could, hoping that nothing large enough to knock them off their horses would be washed down.

 

The ice cold rain had almost reached monsoon levels now and every drop that hit their faces felt like being slashed with a piece of broken glass.   Curry was starting to regret his insistence that they try to navigate the gorge in preference to lingering in the forest and waiting to die of exposure.  The way he felt right now, slipping quietly into oblivion from the effects of the cold seemed a much more pleasant way to exit the world than this.

 

A large tree branch swirled past them, missing the hind leg of Heyes’ horse by inches. He swallowed down his rising sense of panic and tried to keep his focus on keeping his horse upright and himself in the saddle.

​

As the branch glided past them Curry twisted round in his saddle to make sure that Heyes was still behind him and hadn’t been hit by it.  The noise of the rain and the storm made conversation almost impossible but the look in his partner’s eyes as he met his gaze said more than any words could.

​

Lightning crackled above them followed almost instantaneously by the loudest clap of thunder either could ever remember hearing, causing their horses to rear up in fear. It was several minutes before they managed to get them back under control enough to move forward once more.  

 

Suddenly, Curry’s horse put a foot in an unseen gash in the rocks, beneath the water, and went down on its knees, pitching Curry over its head and into the swirling water.

 

The horse struggled frantically and finally managed to get itself back on its feet, whinnying in fear. Curry however, disappeared beneath the water, which swirled and crashed over boulders, tree branches and other debris bouncing around in it.

 

“Kid!” Heyes’ yell was lost in the noise of the rain and thunder.

 

He jumped off his horse and attempted to wade across to where Curry had fallen, struggling, against the power of the water, to keep upright.

 

Curry’s arms now appeared above the water, flailing around.

 

“Kid!” Heyes yelled again.

 

Finally he managed to reach him, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him above the water.

 

“I’m stuck.” gasped Curry.

 

“What?” Heyes couldn’t hear him above the noise of the rain and the sound of the rushing water.

 

“My foot’s stuck.” yelled Curry.

 

Heyes reached down under the water to try and feel where his foot was.  He tugged but couldn’t release it.

 

“Help...” gasped Curry.  The angle his foot was pinned at prevented him standing upright and the ever deepening water swirled around his head threatening to drown him.

 

Pushing his hat back off his head and pulling the strings to keep it from floating away, Heyes took a deep breath and ducked underneath the water.

 

He soon saw Curry’s foot, wedged inwards in a gap in the rocks.  He tried pulling it but it wouldn’t budge.

 

Coming up for air he shouted, “Hang on, Kid.” before taking another breath and going under again.

 

Another attempt to pull his foot free failed and he came up once more for air.

​

"Heyes..." gasped Curry, grabbing for him as the swirling water threatened to drag him under,"Help..."

​

"It's O.K, Kid, just hang on." Heyes tried to sound reassuring but in reality he didn't know if he would be able to free him before the rising water engulfed him.

​

Taking another breath he ducked under the water once more, frantically trying to work Curry's foot back out from between the rocks, but still it wouldn't budge. In a final bid to free him, Heyes decided to try and pull his leg out of his boot.  The power of the water made it difficult, but, finally, he managed to pull his leg free. His boot, however, refused to be moved and Heyes had to give up on it and surface, gasping for air.

 

Heyes helped Curry get onto his feet and holding onto each other to keep upright they slowly waded back towards their horses.

 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Heyes shouted above the rain, once they reached the horses.

 

Curry shook his head, breathing heavily. His ankle was painful but only twisted and bruised.  But, apart from that, miraculously, he hadn’t sustained any other injuries.

​

“Are you sure?” Heyes questioned, slightly disbelieving.  The way Curry had been thrown into the swirling, debris filled, water he could barely believe he was still alive, let alone uninjured.

​

Curry nodded.

 

A quick examination showed that Curry’s horse appeared to be uninjured.   Heyes helped him to remount the horse before wading back to his own.

 

He mounted and then moved the horse in front of Curry’s.

 

“I’ll go first.” he told him, seeing that Curry had been shaken up by the fall.

 

Curry nodded, coughing,  “O.K.”

 

Slowly, they pressed on down the gorge.  Curry’s hat had been swept away by the floodwater, and Heyes’ was soaking wet after being dunked under the water and was pretty useless as any kind of protection.

 

The thunder was beginning to move away now, but the rain continued, although a little less forcefully than before.    The floodwater, which had now risen past the horses’ knees, stopped getting deeper and Heyes hoped that they would be able to find way out before the cold, or exhaustion, finished them off. There was no opportunity to stop and rest, they just had to keep going until they either got out of this gorge or... he shuddered at the possible alternative.  If there was no way out, they were pretty much done for.

 

It seemed like hours later when Heyes became aware that the rain had almost stopped.

 

He screwed around in the saddle to look at Curry, relieved to see him still mounted and conscious.  Heyes was freezing after going into the water to rescue Curry, his fingers numb with cold, his teeth chattering, and it was taking every ounce of his willpower to keep awake and alert and he knew Curry would be feeling the same.

 

“Hang in there, Kid.” he called, trying, with difficulty, to sound optimistic to keep his friend’s spirits up.

 

Curry nodded, too cold and tired to speak.

​

Turning back, Heyes surveyed their surroundings.  There still seemed to be no end to this gorge and he wondered just how much longer they could keep going until, if, they found a way out. The day was wearing on.  They were pretty close to freezing already, after being soaked to the skin.  If they didn’t get out of here and find some shelter before nightfall their chances of survival were slim.

 

With a grim sigh, he pressed his horse slowly forwards, turning, periodically, to check that Curry was still behind him and still conscious.

 

Some time later, it started to rain again, although not as heavily as before, but, already wet and cold, it demoralized them even more and both of them began to think that they weren’t going to make it out of here alive, although neither would voice that thought out loud.

 

Fortunately, the rain didn’t last too long and the level of water coming down from up the mountain didn’t increase any.

 

They pressed on, wearily, the landscape unchanging.

 

Suddenly, the floor of the gorge took a steeper decline and Heyes wasn’t convinced their horses would be able to navigate it, in the deep water. 

 

Very cautiously, they edged their horses down the steep slope, praying they wouldn’t slip or fall and get hurt.  If they lost their mounts they would have virtually no chance of surviving this ordeal.  The path levelled off a little further on but then steepened again, and here the water was deeper, as the flow from further up the gorge pooled, at the based of the incline, before being forced on, almost reaching up to the horses’ bellies. 

 

They struggled through the water and made a left turn around a rocky outcrop and then, suddenly, they were out of the gorge and into the forest.

 

They continued on up a slight rise that allowed them to escape the last of the water, which flowed on over a ridge off to their right and on down to the base of the mountain.

 

Here they brought the horses to a halt.

 

Heyes climbed down and crossed wearily to Curry’s horse.

 

“We made it, Kid.” he said with a weak smile.

 

Curry nodded,  “Yeah,” he said tiredly, “but where the hell are we?”

 

“Dunno.  But if we’ve made it across to the west side of the mountain we shouldn’t be too far from South Pass City.”

 

“Can we rest a while before we go on?” said Curry.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kid.  We’re soaked through and after the rain that’s come down its doubtful we could get a fire going.  We need to try and find somewhere where we can dry off and get warm.”

 

“I guess.” muttered Curry.

 

“Hey, stay with me, OK?” said Heyes, noting that Curry was on the edge of unconsciousness from the effects of the cold.

 

Curry nodded wearily.

 

“Let’s get the hell off this mountain.” said Heyes.

 

He remounted his horse and they set off down the mountain as fast as their horses could safely negotiate the steep, rocky terrain, praying that they wouldn’t encounter any more gorges or other obstacles blocking their path.

 

Miraculously, although still challenging, the rest of the route didn’t put any more major obstacles in their way and, after another hour and a half of riding, they finally reached the foot of the mountain and exited the treeline onto a grassy plain. 

 

It was only about an hour until nightfall and early evening sunshine was beginning to poke through the clouds now that the storm was moving off further to the west.

 

Getting his bearings from the setting sun Heyes turned to the south, to where he hoped their destination would be, and they set off at a brisk trot.

​

Curry seemed a little more alert now that the rain had stopped and the prospect of shelter was forthcoming, but both of them were almost dead on their feet when they finally arrived in South Pass City, just after nightfall, having spent the best part of today fighting through the storm and the previous couple of days running from the posse.

​

It was a town that Curry had no knowledge of but Heyes knew of it from reading Mark Twain’s semi-autobiographical book Roughing It,  which detailed his travels through the West in the 1860’s, and he had made a mental note of its location, hoping, at some point, to be able to pay a visit, to see  the place that Twain had written about.   He could never have envisaged, however, that he would visit under such circumstances as they found themselves in now.

​

Once a bustling telegraph station and gold mining town, it was now in decline, since the gold deposits found had been exhausted, but was still a sizeable community. 

 

They made their way to the town’s only hotel and went inside to book a room.

 

The desk clerk gave the two bedraggled men some stern looks as they signed the register and collected the room key, especially so when he noticed Curry’s missing boot as he limped upstairs to their room, wondering where they’d come from and what they’d been up to.

 

Once inside, Curry flopped down on one of the two beds.

 

“You’ll make the sheets wet.” Heyes chastised him.

 

“Hmm.” Curry agreed but made no move to get up.

 

“I’ll order a bath.” said Heyes,  “We need to get warmed up or else we’ll end up with the grippe.”

 

“O.K.” muttered Curry.

 

 *    *    *

 

A couple of hours later, after they’d bathed and changed into their spare clothes, they headed over to the restaurant for a hearty supper, not having eaten in the past thirty-six hours since their hasty departure from Atlantic City.

​

Afterwards they enjoyed a rare brandy and a cigar apiece, as a treat to themselves for surviving their ordeal on the mountain, after which they retired to their room, where they’d left their soaked clothes to dry out, eager for a good night’s sleep.

​

Curry had been uncharacteristically quiet over supper, and Heyes was worried he might be sickening for something.  In reality, Curry was blaming himself for the predicament they’d found themselves in, by insisting they press on through the gorge, and from which he felt they’d been lucky to escape alive.

​

As they prepared for bed Curry suddenly said, “I’m sorry, Heyes.” 

 

“What for?” Heyes looked puzzled.

 

“For insisting we go on. I know you thought it was crazy.”

 

Heyes thought for a moment,  “You’re right, I did, but who’s to say that storm might not have hung around all night, and if we’d stayed up on the mountain that, and the cold, would probably have killed us anyway.” he said, trying to ease the feelings of guilt he knew Curry was harbouring.

 

“I guess.” Curry acknowledged. Presently, the subject still on his mind, he said, “Maybe, if we’d gone south instead of north, it might have been an easier way…”

 

“Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? It could have been even worse." said Heyes, "We took a gamble, and it paid off.”

 

“It might not have.” Curry pointed out.

 

“True. But, life is a gamble, Kid. Especially our lives.  We could get killed any time, by someone who wants to take us in for the reward.  What’s a storm compared to that?”  He raised an eyebrow, a spark of humour appearing in his eyes.

 

Curry gave a half smile.

 

“Thanks... you know, for saving me.” he said now,  “I thought I was done for.”

 

“So did I.” Heyes admitted, his expression becoming serious once more, “It scared the hell out of me.”

 

They both fell silent as they reflected on their escape through the gorge.

 

“I guess the posse gave up on us?” Curry said presently.

 

“Would you make that journey, if you didn’t have to?”  Heyes raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

Curry shook his head.

 

Heyes smile,  “We should get some sleep.” he said, bringing the discussion to a close.

 

They got into their beds and Heyes blew out the lamp.  After the day they’d just had their basic hotel beds felt truly luxurious.  They lay in companionable silence for some minutes, relishing the comfort and thinking how lucky they were to still be alive to enjoy it.

 

Presently, Heyes said,  “Kid?”

 

“Mmm.” Curry muttered, almost asleep.

 

“I guess we should go out tomorrow and get you some new boots, and a new hat.   That desk clerk gave you some decidedly funny looks, walking in here in one boot and one sock.”

 

“Yeah. I bet he was wondering what I’d been doing to be walking around minus a boot.” said Curry, a smile coming to his face.

 

He heard Heyes chuckle in the darkness. 

 

“Good job he didn't ask you about it, I can’t imagine what kind of a story you could come up with to explain that away.”

 

"I'd have left it for you to come with that explanation.”  chortled Curry,  “I’m sure, with your silver tongue, you could have come up with something… believable.”

 

“Even for me, that one would have taken a bit of thinking out.” quipped Heyes.

​

Curry laughed, softly.

 

“Heyes?” Curry’s voice came out of the darkness some moments later.

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I never heard of this town. How’d you know about it?”

 

Heyes smiled to himself,  “Mark Twain.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“He travelled through this area once, and wrote about it in a book.  This town was one of the places he mentioned, said how friendly the people were. I made a note of it for if we ever got over this way.”

 

There was a brief silence before Curry said, “Your book reading gets up my nose sometimes… but, I gotta hand it to you… and to Mark Twain… for saving our bacon…”

 

Heyes laughed,  “I guess he did at that, Kid.”  Other than this town, Heyes didn’t know of another town for a hundred miles or more in any direction apart from the one they’d been chased out of, which they couldn’t have risked going back to, and even that was probably sixty miles or so from where they were now.  Finding South Pass City had indeed saved their bacon.

 

“Just so long as you don’t go getting any ideas about getting a job as a steamboat captain on the Mississippi!”  quipped Curry.

 

Heyes chuckled in the darkness,  the seed of an idea hatching in his mind,  “We’ll see, Kid.  We’ll see.”

 

​

​

-ooOOoo-

​

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