Unbroken
- 2 -
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Over the next couple of weeks Curry worked hard to try and bring Heyes out of himself and get him back to some kind of normal routine. Not that they had what could be described as a normal routine, given that at any time they might have to up and leave town to avoid recognition, or capture, but anything that could break the routine to which he had become indoctrinated at the prison had to be an improvement.
He did succeed in getting him to go out to the restaurant for their meals and, as such, his appetite had begun to improve and he was beginning to gain back a little of the weight he’d lost in prison, although it would be some time before he would get back to anything like he was before. He had also persuaded him to go to the saloon a few times, although he seemed uncomfortable when the saloon was full and he had shown no interest in playing poker. But getting him to talk, about anything, was still a challenge. Only when Curry instigated a conversation would he contribute to it and then only in the briefest terms, and any attempt to get him to talk about his time in the prison, or the events that had put him there, were met with either sullen silences or angry refusals. Bored, with being stuck in one place for weeks with an uncommunicative partner, Curry had suggested that they go and visit Lom, and stay with him for a while, to give them both a change of scene, and Curry a break, hoping that Lom might perhaps succeed where he had failed, in trying to get through to Heyes. But Heyes had rejected that too, not feeling ready to face Lom and further questioning about what had happened.
Curry had then tried to persuade him just to leave Laramie and go somewhere else, thinking that maybe it’s close proximity to the prison, which they could see from certain parts of the town, could be hindering his emotional recovery, and that getting back out on the trail, and seeing some new surroundings, might help to bring him out of himself. But even that was met with apathy. It was like he was an empty shell, with no ambition or interest in anything and, after six weeks of trying to bribe and cajole Heyes out of his mental stupor, Curry’s patience was just about running out. He could sympathize with Heyes’ emotional isolation up to a point; Heyes’ external demeanour oozed a cool confidence that bordered on arrogance, and his quick wits and silver tongue had got them out of many a sticky situation over the years. But, few knew that underneath that cool and confident exterior was a gentle, sensitive, soul that had been deeply traumatized by the murder of their families while they were still children. Curry knew only too well the inner demons, generated by both that event and the traumatic time spent at the orphanage they'd been sent to, that his friend carried around inside him, which had no doubt been amplified by the prison regime, compounding that trauma and contributing to his current emotional catatonia. But, while he was sympathetic, Curry wasn’t prepared to put up with it indefinitely. He would have to take a stand at some point, if he was going to have any chance of breaking through his partner’s apathy.
The catalyst had come the following Friday evening. After eating supper at the restaurant Curry had persuaded Heyes to join him in the saloon. Heyes, as usual, was unenthusiastic but had reluctantly agreed.
After ordering drinks, Curry had suggested playing poker, in the hope of winning some money to top up their rapidly flagging finances, and had invited Heyes to do the same. Heyes, however, had once again declined and Curry’s patience had finally given out.
“Look,” he growled, turning on him angrily, “hanging around here in Laramie is using up our money. I’ve won a bit, playing poker, to tide us over, but I aint as good a player as you, so we’re gonna be broke pretty soon. Since you don’t want to go to Lom’s, or get some paid work, you need to pull yourself together, sit in at that poker table and do what you do best, to get us some money!” He pointed towards the poker game going on in the corner, his face inches from Heyes’, his blue eyes flashing angrily.
Heyes, who had never backed down from anyone, took a step backwards, looking slightly stunned by Curry’s sudden outburst, a mixture of emotions in his eyes; dismay, anguish, and trepidation.
After a moment, he turned on his heel and without a word headed for the exit.
Curry banged his glass down, angrily, on the bar, as he watched Heyes step outside and disappear, bewildered, and not a little annoyed, by his reaction, before throwing some cash down to pay for their drinks, which they’d barely touched, and heading out of the saloon after him.
He could see Heyes just entering the hotel and so made his way over there and up to their room.
Heyes hadn’t locked the door to their room and Curry burst in, furiously, the door banging back against the wall with the force of his entrance.
“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!” he growled.
Heyes, who had spun round at the sound of the door being flung open, looked at Curry with outright fear in his eyes, his mind plunged back to the prison and the guards coming to his cell at night to administer their punishments.
As Curry stomped across the room towards him Heyes backed up, until he was stopped by the wall of the bedroom, Curry two feet in front of him.
“I know things must have been tough for you in there,” barked Curry, while Heyes lowered his gaze submissively, “and I’ve tried to make allowances and give you space to adjust to being back on the outside. But you aint even tryin’, and I’m sick of hangin’ around here, walkin’ on eggshells in case I say somethin’ outta line, waitin’ for you to get yourself together. You’ve done nothin’ since you got out of prison, except sit around feelin’ sorry for yourself, and I’ve had it up to here.” He lifted his hand to his forehead, “You won’t talk to me, you won’t go to Lom’s, you don’t want to get back on the road. You don’t even want to play poker!” He shook his head bewilderedly, “What the hell do you want?”
Only now he’d finished his tirade did Curry become aware of Heyes’ passive demeanour, which instead of inducing sympathy just served to infuriate him all the more because this wasn’t the Heyes he knew. The Heyes he knew would have flattened him by now, for getting in his face the way he had, and the fact that he was just standing there, taking it, made him want to shake him.
“I’m trying to help you!” he growled, “But how can I help you when you won’t even talk to me?”
When Heyes made no response, Curry banged his fist angrily against the wall at the side of Heyes’ head, causing Heyes to flinch, before turning away to pace the room, crossing to the door and slamming it forcefully shut, to vent his frustrations.
Turning back to face Heyes, who hadn’t moved, he said, “I told you before, I think you owe me an explanation for whatever happened that day at the bank. You could’ve been serving twenty years, not two, and where would that have left me, huh?” He prodded himself in the chest, “I know you’ve had it tough, but do you think this has been easy on me either? I’ve spent the last two years trying to fathom out what happened, why you decided to risk our amnesty deal to rob a bank, and I’ve carried all your stuff around with me for the day when I hoped I’d get my partner back and get some answers.” He shook his head, “Feels like I’ve been pretty short changed.”
He glared at Heyes who still refused to meet his eyes.
“Well, are you gonna tell me?” Curry demanded.
When Heyes still continued to stare at the floor, Curry threw his hands up in an ‘I give up’ gesture.
“Fine! I guess I know where I stand.” he growled, “I’ve had it! You’re on your own! I’m outta here!”
Turning on his heel he headed for the door.
As he turned the doorknob, Heyes called, “No…”
Curry looked back over his shoulder to see Heyes looking at him with an expression of abject despair that cut through his heart.
“Don’t go… Please…” he said quietly.
Curry swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat at the desolate look in his friend’s eyes, and resisted the urge to apologize for his tirade, saying instead, “You ready to talk?”
Bowing his head, Heyes gave a small nod.
Curry eyed him for a moment before closing the door and crossing to sit on the edge of one of the beds.
After a moment, Heyes crossed to sit on the edge of the adjacent bed, his shoulders hunched and head bowed.
When he didn’t speak, Curry said, “Well?”
Heyes gave a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry…” he said, gruffly, “It’s not that I… want to shut you out, it’s…” he broke off, shaking his head to himself.
“It’s what?” asked Curry.
“In there…” Heyes continued, “you break the rule… of silence… at your peril… I learned that pretty quick…” He trailed off, as the memory of the late night visits by the guards pushed its way into his mind, before giving a vague shrug, “After two years of living that way… it’s hard to break away from it…”
Curry nodded, “I understand that, but it’s been seven weeks now, and you aint even tried to get back to some kind of normal life.”
Heyes sighed again. “I’ve… forgotten... what ’normal’ is.” he said quietly, “You’re so… isolated… in there, cut off from the outside world… denied even your identity… “ He shook his head, struggling to find a way to explain, “It’s like… I don’t know who I am any more...” He paused, lost in thought.
“It took everything I had to survive in there just for two years…” he said presently, “I sure as hell aint goin’ back there. I’d rather die than go back there…” He shook his head, “The regime… I guess some people can handle it… but not me… I can’t deal with the isolation… not being able to make friends… talk to anyone… touch anyone… it just sucks out your soul…” He sighed heavily, “How I missed seeing trees… and grass… Two years of just staring at the compound walls, or the cell walls… it just bled me dry… I feel… empty...”
Curry studied him, as he contemplated his words. Heyes had always been lively, active, gregarious and tactile, with a deep sense of wanderlust, always wanting to see what was around the next bend. Depriving him of not only his freedom, but the ability to have social contact with others, or even to see past the prison walls, would indeed be soul destroying. Curry was less tactile and more introverted than Heyes but even he couldn’t envisage himself living life like that.
Heyes rubbed his hands wearily over his face before dropping them into his lap.
“I don’t know… how to move on… how to fix things... fix me…” he said quietly, “The person I was before…” He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug, “is gone…”
Curry swallowed down the lump that rose in his throat to see his friend so broken.
Getting up, he moved to sit next to Heyes on the other bed.
“Come here.” he said, putting an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into an embrace.”
Initially, Heyes stiffened and attempted to pull away but Curry held onto him, pulling him to his chest and wrapping him in a bear hug, instinctively knowing that this was what he needed. Contact, comfort, sympathy. Things that had been all too rare in their lives since the deaths of their families. Curry was hopeful that the old Heyes was still in there somewhere and, now that he’d begun to open up, they could work towards finding him. But, for now, this was what he needed.
After a few moments, Heyes gave up trying to withdraw and allowed himself to be wrapped in the warm comfort of his friend’s embrace.
“It’s OK.” said Curry, as he felt him succumb, “You’re gonna be fine. We’ll fix this, together.”
​
He felt him begin to tremble as the emotions he’d held inside for so long finally forced their way to the surface, silent tears beginning to slide down his cheeks.
​
Curry continued to hold him, quietly, rocking him gently back and forth while Heyes leaned limply against him, his hands limp in his lap, staring vacantly ahead, until, eventually, sleep claimed him, at which point he gently lay him down on the bed, covered him with a blanket and stood looking down at him. ‘The first step’ he thought to himself, before quietly leaving the room and heading back over to the saloon for a much needed drink.
​
* * *
Curry woke first the next morning, which surprised him, since Heyes had been up at the crack of dawn every day since his release from the prison. He could only assume that their talk the previous night had eased his mind a little and allowed him to relax a bit more.
Oh hearing him washing and dressing, Heyes woke, looking around the room somewhat bewilderedly.
“Mornin’.” Curry smiled, as he pulled on his boots.
“Mornin’.”
“How are you feeling?” Curry asked, as he stood up and turned to pick up his gunbelt.
Heyes shrugged.
“Wanna go out for some breakfast?” asked Curry, eyeing him intently.
Heyes nodded. “O.K.” he said, obviously making an effort to be more communicative, “Just give me time to get washed and dressed.”
“Sure.”
Ten minutes later they headed across the street to the restaurant.
After they’d eaten and were on their second cup of coffee, Heyes said, “Thanks, Kid… for not leaving last night… I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had…” He eyed Curry with bleak eyes.
Curry met his eyes and gave him a kindly smile, “I know it’s going to take a while for you to get past this, but I’ll help you any way I can… Just don’t shut me out.”
Heyes lowered his gaze, his mind obviously on other things.
“Heyes…” Curry said, warningly, seeing him retreating again.
Heyes looked at him.
“Talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t.”
Heyes sighed and gave a small nod, “I know…” Then, obviously trying to change the subject, he said, “Any news on our amnesty?”
Curry sighed and shook his head. “No. We’ve had two more governors since you went inside, both of who just repeated what Hale said, ‘politically, it’s not the right time’. I’m beginning to think it’s a lost cause and we may as well give up hope of getting it.”
“Two governors?” Heyes asked in surprise.
Curry nodded. “Hale died, back in January. Then Elliot Morgan became acting governor and then Frances Warren came to office in February. Ex-military man. Served in the Infantry during the war, as an NCO. Lom’s workin’ on it, but…” he shrugged.
Heyes shook his head, thinking how much he’d missed during his time in the prison.
“You done?” Curry’s voice brought him back from his reverie.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Heyes drained the last of his coffee and they exited the restaurant and made their way back to the hotel.
“So,” Curry began, when they were safely back in their room, wanting to continue the conversation they’d started the previous night, “are you gonna tell me what really happened at the bank?”
Heyes sighed and moved to stand at the window, looking absently out through the glass.
“What you said at the trial wasn’t the whole truth, was it?” asked Curry.
Heyes shook his head.
“So, what really happened?”
Heyes continued to stare out of the window as he thought back over it.
“Heyes?” Curry pressed.
Turning away from the window, Heyes moved to sit on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together between them, head bowed.
Curry moved to sit opposite him on the other bed, eyeing him questioningly.
“Come on, Heyes, talk to me.” he coaxed.
Heyes took a deep breath, and let it out in a heavy sigh.
“When I was in Rock Springs…” he began, some moments later, “I ran into this guy I used to ride with… years ago…”
“Who?” Curry cut in, but Heyes ignored him.
“We got chatting… in the saloon… and he wanted to know what I was doing there… so I told him I was there on business and was going to Green River in a few days...” He paused, remembering.
“We spent some time together, played a little poker… nothing out of the ordinary…” he continued presently, “I was about half a day out of Rock Springs, on my way back to Green River… when he suddenly appears, on the trail, holdin’ a gun on me. He told me he’d been plannin’ on robbing the Green River bank. He said the only way he’d figured he could do it was with dynamite but, when he saw me, he decided he’d stand more of a chance of succeeding if I helped him out, since I could open the safe and he wouldn’t have to risk waking half the town blowing it up...”
“Go on.” said Curry, when he trailed off.
“I tried to talk my way out of it,” Heyes continued presently, “saying I’d gone straight and probably didn’t have the knack no more, especially on the newer safes they’re bringing out these days, but he wasn’t having it. He took my gun, and tied me up. He knows how much you and I are wanted for and he said, if I didn’t help him out, he’d turn me in to the Sheriff, once we got to Green River, for the reward.”
“So, what happened then?”
Heyes sighed, “I had no choice but to agree, but I hoped I could find a way out of doing it. He kept me tied up until we got to town… When we got there, instead of going to the hotel, which I’d expected him to do and was when I was hoping I could find a way to escape, he took me to this old shack, just outside of town, and handcuffed me to this old, metal bed. So I had no chance of getting away from him and if I refused to help him open the safe he was going to turn me in to the Sheriff… He had everything he needed, to get into the bank and blow the safe, stored there… dynamite… even a bar spreader… so I knew his plan to rob the bank weren’t no spur of the minute thing, he’d been preparin’ for it for a while...”
“The next night, Sunday, around midnight… we went into town to do the job...” he continued, “He’d handcuffed my hands behind me, until we got inside the bank, and gagged me too, just in case I tried to raise the alarm, so I didn’t have the option to try and make an escape. Once inside, he released me and held his gun on me while I opened the safe...”
“What safe was it?” Curry asked now.
“An old Andrews. Nothing I couldn’t open… Took me a while though… I did think of makin’ out I couldn’t do it, but he’d have just turned me in to the Sheriff… He told me that if I ever let on who he really was, or brought the law down on him, he would kill first you, and then me.”
“As soon as I'd opened the safe… he came up behind me and put a cloth soaked in chloroform over my face. I tried to fight him off, but I guess I passed out. I don’t know how long I was out for, but when I came to I was in jail. The last thing I remembered was him saying, in my ear, ‘Don’t forget! Grass me up and I’ll kill your partner, and then you!'"
He turned to look at Curry now, “That’s why I couldn’t tell you who he was. I knew I was going to get sent to prison and I knew, if I told you the truth, you would go off on your own and look for him, and try and get the money back, and I didn’t want you doing that without me around. ” He shook his head, “I couldn’t risk you getting killed, or our real identities being found out. So I made up a name for him, and for me too, in the hope they wouldn’t find out my real identity, and came up with that story about owing him money and him threatening to kill me if I didn’t go along with his plan. I hoped the judge would think we were a couple of imbeciles and believe that he had deliberately double crossed me and left me to take the blame, which was pretty much the truth.”
“It’s lucky the judge did come to the conclusion that you were a couple of hapless opportunists,” said Curry, “otherwise you could have been sent down for a lot longer.”
“Yeah.” Heyes nodded agreement.
“So, who is the guy?” Curry asked presently.
Heyes gave a weary sigh, “Does it matter?”
Curry looked aghast, “Of course it matters. Maybe we can find him and—“ he began, but Heyes spoke over him.
“It’s been two years, Kid. The money he stole’ll be long gone by now, and even if we could find him, and take him back to Green River, how could I explain what happened without my real identity coming out? He’d deny everything, and then tell them who I really am and, even if I denied it, it wouldn’t take them long to put two and two together, and then I’d be back in prison, this time for twenty years.” He shook his head, “Not forgetting that I committed perjury too, by lying under oath at the trial, which would probably get me a few more years added to the twenty I’m already down for.” He gave a weary sigh, “There’s no way to prove he was the one who took the money. No-one saw him. The only other person at the scene of the crime was me.”
Curry blew out his cheeks, “But, it’s not right that he should get off scot free after what he did across you.”
“Tell me about it.” Heyes said, bitterly, “I thought about him every day of those two years, and of a way to get even with him, until it nearly drove me crazy, but…” he shrugged, wearily, “it is what it is. I did my time and it’s over with. Done. Finished.”
Curry eyed him thoughtfully. Despite the finality of his words, he knew that it was far from finished in Heyes’ mind. To have been double-crossed so easily, by someone he seemed to regard as a peer, perhaps even a friend, was a bitter pill to swallow. And then for the culprit to escape justice, leaving Heyes to take the blame, with no recompense for keeping his mouth shut, it wasn’t surprising he was bitter.
Heyes hadn’t said much about his treatment during his confinement in the prison, but he had heard enough stories to know it would have been harsh, and it had all been for nothing. In his shoes, Curry would have wanted to kill the guy.
“Do I know this guy?” he asked now.
Heyes got up and returned to the window, gazing absently out, “I don’t think so.”
“So, it was someone you met during the time we’d split up?” asked Curry, his mind searching through the names of people he could recall Heyes having mentioned, that he had never met, and wondering if one of them were the culprit.
Heyes didn’t answer, his pensive gaze still staring vacantly through the glass.
“Heyes?”
“Maybe.” Heyes replied vaguely.
“Tell me who it was, Heyes.”
Heyes shook his head. “I aint tellin’ ya, Kid… I know you. You’d wanna try to find him and get justice somehow… But there’s nothing to be done… It’s not gonna wipe out the two years I spent in that place… “he broke off as his voice caught, and Curry’s heart went out to him for the damage that had been inflicted on his partner’s psyche because of that man’s actions.
“But…” he began, but Heyes spoke over him.
“Just leave it, Kid.” he said firmly.
Curry sighed, heavily “Alright.” he said, reluctantly.
“I need some air.” said Heyes, turning and leaving the room.
Curry contemplated going after him but decided against it. After two years of speaking to no-one, their conversation, last night and today, had been a lengthy, and painful, dialogue airing things he’d kept buried deep inside him. He needed time to process it and decide where to go from here.
​
* * *
Curry was cleaning his gun when Heyes returned to their hotel room an hour and a half later, after absently walking the length of Second Street and then circling all the way back via Third Street.
He looked up with a sense of relief as Heyes entered the room. Although he’d decided not to go after him, he had been anxious about him going off on his own in his present mood, uncertain of what he might do.
“You O.K?” he asked, in as casual a tone as he could muster.
Heyes nodded, as he took off his hat and tossed it onto the dresser before moving to sit on the edge of the bed, watching Curry cleaning his gun.
“I needed some time to think.” he said presently.
Curry nodded acknowledgement but said nothing.
Heyes gave a deep sigh, shifting his troubled gaze to the window and gazing absently out.
“It makes me mad that I lost two years of my life because of that guy…” he said, some minutes later, “especially given how hard we worked to stay out of trouble as part of our deal with the governor…” He shook his head, “I hate him for what he did… but I can’t change it… I’m just thankful that they didn’t find out who I really was, otherwise…” he trailed off as he contemplated being confined in that place for twenty years. It was an unbearable thought.
“I know I need to put it behind me if I’m gonna move on...” he continued presently, “and I’m gonna do my best… ‘cause I don’t want to have it on my mind... but, it’s a lot to get past, y’know?” He turned to look at Curry now.
Curry nodded, solemnly, “I know.” he said quietly, “An’ I’ll help you all I can. You’ve just not gotta keep it all inside. You’ve always been the same, carryin’ your burdens around inside you.” he said, in a pointed reference to the long suppressed demons of their parents’ murders. It was after that tragedy that Heyes had begun to bury all his emotions, and his anger, publicly portraying an optimistic, happy-go-lucky demeanour that belied his inner pain.
“It don’t do you no good.” Curry continued, eyeing him earnestly.
Heyes nodded his acknowledgement, his gaze shifting back to the window.
Some minutes later he said, “I meant it, when I said I’d rather die than go back in that place… It was hell in there…” He shook his head as he remembered, “They pretty much broke me…” he said, a few moments later. Then, he falteringly began to divulge the details of his time there, of the harsh rules, the mundane work, the loneliness of the existence, the meagre food rations, the frequent punishments and the dreaded dark cell.
“You know how much I hate being shut in anywhere, especially in the dark…” he said to Curry, who nodded.
“I don’t know how long they kept me in there… days… maybe weeks… there was no way to know… I felt like I was losing my mind…” He broke off, remembering the weird dreams and hallucinations that had driven him to the edge of insanity, “I couldn’t face another spell in there… so, after I got out… I tried not to give them an opportunity to put me back in there… I just kept my head down and did as I was told…” He gave a deep sigh, his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the floor.
He hadn’t realized Curry had got up from the chair where he’d been cleaning his gun, and had crossed to his side, until he felt his hand on his shoulder.
He jumped, at the unexpected touch, but Curry kept his hand there and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Heyes lifted his head and raised doleful eyes to his.
“I’m sorry, Heyes.” Curry said softly, understanding fully, now, the reasons behind his friend’s withdrawn behaviour since leaving the prison.
With a small nod of acknowledgement, Heyes lifted his hand and placed it over the top of Curry’s, grateful for his partner’s support.
* * *​
Later, after Curry had finished cleaning his own gun and then Heyes’, they decided to take a late lunch-early supper at the restaurant.
Since his release from prison, Heyes hadn’t worn his gun, leaving it instead in the dresser drawer. Curry hadn’t been able to fathom the reason why but supposed it must have come from some subconscious fear that wearing it might get him into some kind of trouble that might get him sent back to prison. But after Curry had finished cleaning it, and handed it to him, he decided to put it on. Curry made no comment about it, but hoped the move was a step forward in his psychological recovery.
Heyes appeared to be in better spirits – or at least making an effort to be – since their talk, and they discussed the future as they ate. He finally seemed amenable to the idea of leaving Laramie and heading back out on the trail and they decided they would leave the next day.
After finishing their meal, they headed across to the saloon.
After ordering drinks, Heyes turned to survey a poker game going on in the corner.
Following his partner’s gaze, Curry said, “Thinking of playing?”
Heyes looked thoughtful. It had been so long since he’d played he wasn’t sure he could even remember how, and didn’t want to risk losing what little money they had.
“Dunno…” he muttered, doubtfully.
Reading his thoughts, Curry said. “Go on. I’m sure it’ll come back to you once you get started. What have you got to lose?”
Heyes gave him a withering look. “The rest of our money.” he said sardonically. “Or, should I say, your money.”
“What’s yours is mine.” grinned Curry. Then, giving him a little push. “Go on. I have faith in you.”
Heyes rolled his eyes and, picking up his drink, headed over to the poker table while Curry watched, from the bar. He could tell he was nervous, although the other players didn’t seem to notice, but, after a while, he could see him start to relax, as his instincts for the game kicked in, and it wasn’t long before he amassed a decent amount of money.
Obviously deciding to quit while his luck held, he excused himself from the game after an hour and headed back to the bar with his winnings.
Curry grinned at him. “See, I told you you’d remember once you got started.”
“I guess.” Heyes gave him an uncertain smile.
After a couple more drinks they retired to their hotel room to get an early night before their departure the next morning.
* * *
Early the following morning they left Laramie and headed South, towards Colorado, arriving a few days later in Greeley.
Heyes had seemed much more relaxed when they’d camped out on the journey, and didn’t seem overly enamoured to be staying in a hotel when they arrived in Greeley. Curry could only guess that he was finding being free to wander the land once more, and not being hemmed in, in towns or buildings, therapeutic, after being confined in the prison for so long, and perhaps felt a little claustrophobic at the thought of being indoors.
After a night in Greeley they then headed on to Denver, where they’d stayed for a couple of weeks, enjoying everything that the city had to offer. Or rather, Curry had enjoyed everything the city had to offer. The only thing that Heyes had indulged in was poker, rolling his eyes whenever his friend excused himself to spend time with the saloon girls. Curry wasn’t sure why Heyes chose to pass up the opportunity to spend time with the girls, he wasn’t normally one to hold back in such things, and could only assume it was another effect of his time in the prison.
From Denver they’d headed on to Colorado Springs, which had become a prosperous town due to it being at the junction of several railroads. They’d stayed for a week there, and spent some time exploring the area, via some of the old trapper trails, enjoying the scenery and the fresh mountain air.
Heyes had seemed more like his old self during his stay there, than at any time since leaving the prison, which Curry could only assume was due to them being outdoors much of the time, in a pretty town with wide streets, and modern buildings, set against the imposing backdrop of the Rocky Mountains. Indeed the town had a pleasant aura about it that even Curry had found relaxing.
Heyes had also gained back some more of the weight he’d lost in prison, filling out his hollow cheeks, and the fresh air had restored the colour to his face. His hair too had grown and more resembled his usual untamed style.
But, despite his outwardly restored appearance, the inner scars of his time in the prison were still far from healed. Crowded, or over-noisy places unsettled him after his solitary existence at the prison. Sometimes he would have nightmares, about his time there, and would wake in a panic, and even now, nearly three months later, sustaining a lengthy conversation with him remained a challenge. At other times, he would drift off into a world of his own and Curry would wonder if he was thinking about the man who had been responsible for it all. He wished he could do more to help him exorcise his demons but, despite having agreed that he shouldn’t bury his feelings inside him, Heyes had said little more about it than when they’d been at the hotel in Laramie.
After leaving Colorado Springs, they spent the next few weeks working their way north-eastwards, eventually entering into Nebraska near the town of Sidney, a town that had grown up around Fort Sidney, where soldiers had been stationed to guard the transcontinental railroad from Indian attacks. After spending a couple of nights there they’d worked their way westwards, finally arriving in Cheyenne, a couple of weeks before Christmas, a round trip of some five hundred miles since leaving Laramie.
Curry asked him if he wanted to travel to San Francisco and spend Christmas with Soapy, as per his invite, but Heyes had rejected the idea, not feeling up to being in a bustling city, or for an inquisition by Soapy about what had happened.
“If you don’t want to go there, how about going to Lom’s? I know he’d be glad of the company and he’s keen to see you.” he coaxed.
“I’ll think on it.” Heyes replied, dismissively.
“O.K.” Curry let the subject drop.
They spent the next few nights relaxing in Cheyenne, dining at the town’s best restaurants, courtesy of Heyes’ winnings from poker during their travels, and gambling in the assortment of saloons the town offered.
On the fifth night they decided to pay a visit to a different saloon. One they’d heard about, from the locals, as having ‘good poker’.
After ordering drinks and spending a little time surveying the room, they decided to join a poker game going on in the corner, Heyes taking a seat next to the dealer and Curry sitting at the opposite side of the table.
The patrons seemed friendly enough and it wasn’t long before Heyes had a nice pile of money in front of him. Curry hadn’t input too much into the game, not wanting Heyes to take all the cash he had on him.
They’d been playing for around an hour when Heyes had glanced around the room and then done a double-take, his gaze fixing on something at the other end of the room, behind Curry.
Seeing his expression, Curry screwed around in his chair to see what he was looking at, but couldn’t see anyone he knew, or anything going on that they needed to be concerned about.
Turning back he tried to catch Heyes’ eye, but he had lowered his gaze to his cards and refused to meet his eyes.
After the hand was played, Heyes turned to the other players and said, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I think I’ve had enough poker for one night.”
He gathered his winnings and got to his feet. As Curry made to do the same, Heyes circled the table and put his hand on his shoulder.
“You don’t need to quit on my account.” he told him, “Stay a while longer. Enjoy yourself.”
“Are you alright?” Curry asked, worriedly. It wasn’t like Heyes to quit a game when he was winning.
“I’m fine. Just got a bit of a headache, that’s all. Think I’ll turn in. You stay a while, enjoy yourself with one of the girls.”
“I don’t…” Curry began, but Heyes gave him a grin and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Go have fun. I’ll see you later.”
With that he turned and left the saloon, leaving Curry with a puzzled look on his face.
“You in, or out?” One of the other players asked.
“Hmm? Oh, in.” he replied, continuing with the game.
He played for another hour before exiting the game and heading to the bar where he was soon approached by one of the girls, and before long they’d headed upstairs.
When he arrived back at their hotel room, well after midnight, Heyes was asleep.
Taking off his boots, Curry crossed quietly to the bed and looked at him in the light cast by the moon through the slightly open window. He seemed peaceful enough and, after carefully placing the back of his hand to his forehead, to check his temperature, he was satisfied that he didn’t appear to be ill.
Quietly undressing he climbed into the other bed, still trying to work out why Heyes had suddenly decided to leave the saloon, remembering that it had been just after he’d seen him looking at something in the room behind him. His senses told him that something wasn’t right but before he could devote any serious thinking to it, sleep overtook him.
* * *
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