Unbroken
​
-3-
“What was it you were looking at in the saloon last night?” Curry quizzed him over breakfast the next morning.
“Looking at?” Heyes looked blank.
“While we were playing poker. I glanced across at you and saw you looking at something behind me.”
Heyes shrugged, “Dunno. Maybe one of the saloon girls or something.”
Curry gave him a withering look.
“I don’t know, Kid." Heyes insisted, "I probably looked at lots of things. Don’t mean I ‘saw’ any of ‘em though. When I’m involved in a game my mind’s too busy with that to register much else.”
“You ‘saw’ whatever it was you were looking at alright. And right after that was when you decided to leave the game and go back to the hotel.”
“I had a headache.”
“So you said.” Curry gave him a pointed look.
“Is it a crime to have a headache?” Heyes countered.
“No. It just seemed a bit of a coincidence, that’s all.”
“Yes, a coincidence.” said Heyes, pushing aside his breakfast plate and picking up his coffee cup, “Did you win any more after I left?”
“A little, not much.”
Heyes gave a nod and took a sip of his coffee while Curry eyed him, curiously, trying to work out what he wasn’t saying. He didn’t believe what he’d said. He couldn’t remember the last time Heyes had complained of a headache – not one that hadn’t been inflicted by too much whisky or a clout on the head anyway - and he’d barely drunk anything last night, to keep a clear head for the poker game. No, the headache had just been an excuse. For what, he couldn’t work out, but there was definitely something.
Heyes seemed preoccupied for the rest of that day. After supper, they returned to the same saloon as the previous evening but tonight Heyes opted not to play poker.
“It’s not like you to pass up a chance of lining your pockets.” said Curry, looking at him curiously.
Heyes shrugged, “Guess I’m just pokered out. You play. I’ll stay here at the bar and watch.”
Curry gave him a withering look, “You know I lose more than you win.”
Heyes grinned, “It’s not like we’re short of cash right now. It’ll give you a chance to practice.” he added, waspishly.
“Humph.” Curry grunted.
“Go on.” grinned Heyes, pushing him towards the table.
With a resigned shake of the head, Curry picked up his glass and headed across to the poker table.
He glanced across at Heyes a few times, who grinned and nodded for him to continue.
Later, when he glanced across, Heyes wasn’t watching the game, his attention seeming to be elsewhere. He looked around, trying to see anything out of the ordinary that might have taken his attention, but could see nothing.
Next time he looked, Heyes was watching the game again and gave him an encouraging smile.
Thinking he must be imagining a problem where there wasn’t one, Curry returned his attention to his cards.
But, when he next glanced across, some minutes later, Heyes was no longer at the bar.
Curry’s eyes turned to the saloon doors but he knew he hadn’t gone out through them, as he was facing them and would have spotted him. Screwing around in his chair he scanned the room and just caught sight of Heyes disappearing through the back door.
Probably gone to the privy, he thought, turning back to the table, but the sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him something wasn’t right.
They’d just finished the hand they were playing so Curry excused himself from the table and headed towards the back door. Heyes was nowhere to be seen.
There was an alley at the side of the saloon. Curry ran down it, to the street and looked up and down but there was no sign of Heyes. There was no way he could have disappeared from sight in the time it had taken him to follow. So where had he gone?
He went back down the alley to the other end and found that it joined into another alley that ran along the back of all the buildings on this side of the street. He looked to the right. Nothing. He looked to the left. Nothing.
Then, for a brief moment, he saw a shape. Someone crossing across the gap between two buildings and being highlighted, momentarily, by the lamplight coming from the other end of an alleyway. He couldn’t tell if it was Heyes but it seemed likely, although what he was doing out here he couldn’t imagine.
He hurried along the alleyway, as quietly as he could, wondering what the hell was going on.
He exited the alleyway a few moments later, at the far end of town, glancing around him for a sign of life, but saw no-one.
Then, as he looked down on the ground, he saw footprints in the dusty earth, heading off up a path that led out into open woodland on the outskirts of town.
He started to follow the trail, thankful that there was a moon tonight, to allow him to see them.
Some minutes later he came to an abrupt stop when he saw, up ahead, Heyes, his back to him, with his gun pointed at another man.
Ducking behind a bush, he watched, trying to work out what was going on.
He could hear their voices but was too far away to decipher what was being said, so he quietly crept nearer, keeping out of sight, not wanting to startle Heyes while he had the gun in his hand.
Reaching the cover of another bush, fifteen feet away, he could see that the other man’s gun was still in its holster, and wondered, if Heyes had taken him by surprise, why he hadn’t disarmed him. The man had a smug expression on his face as he responded to whatever Heyes was saying. Quietly, Curry crept nearer.
“…You aint gonna kill me.” The man was saying, with a smirk, “You aint got it in ya. Never did have. That’s why y'keep Curry in tow, to do it for ya.”
“The only reason I aint killed anyone before is because they haven’t given me a good enough reason to.” growled Heyes.
“And I have?” the man asked, innocently.
Heyes gave a slow nod.
“I lost two years of my life, thanks to you.”
Curry, hidden behind the bush, now realized who this man was and was afraid of what Heyes was intending to do.
The man gave him a knowing look, “Ah, yes, your time in the Wyoming Territorial Prison.” He grinned, “I let you off light, really. I could easily have killed you, at the bank, or else turned you in to the Sheriff, in which case you’d have been servin’ twenty years, not just two.”
“You double crossed me.” growled Heyes.
“How d’ya work that out? I never promised you nothin’. The deal was that you helped me to open the safe in return for me not killin’ you or your friend, or turnin’ you over to the Sheriff. Curry’s still alive, aint he? And I didn’t turn you in to the Sheriff. Weren’t my fault that the bank Manager found you before you came round.”
“Except that was just what you wanted, wasn’t it? To pin the blame on me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” the other man growled, “I didn’t know how long the chloroform would take to wear off, I just wanted to be sure it was long enough that you wouldn’t be able to catch up with me. Planting that two thousand dollars on you was just a little extra insurance policy. If you’d come round before anyone found you, you could have made off with it and taken it as payment for services rendered, and nobody would have been any the wiser as to who had robbed the bank. But if you didn’t, it would implicate you too. Either way, I’d be free and clear, ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t risk Curry’s life by giving me away, or sending him to find me.”
“You bastard.”
“Aw, come on, Heyes, you gotta admit it was a plan easily as worthy of anything you could have come up with. Foolproof in fact.”
“Yeah, and I was the fool.” snapped Heyes.
“So, what’s the next move? You gonna shoot me?” The other man shook his head, “Like I said, you aint got it in ya. You’d have done it already if you was gonna.” When Heyes gave no response he said, “Well, I aint gonna stand here all night, so you can pull the trigger or else I’m just gonna walk away.”
Curry saw Heyes’ finger tighten on the trigger and was moved to action.
“Hold it right there…” he said, stepping into view from behind the bush, his gun in his hand, “both of you.” he added, sending a warning look to Heyes. If there was going to be any shooting, Curry was going to be the one doing it.
“Stay out of this, Kid.” growled Heyes, while the other man paled on realizing it was Kid Curry standing in front of them.
“Stay out of what?” said Curry, “Far as I can see, all that’s going on here is a discussion about past history. History is just that - history. Can’t be changed, or re-written. You just gotta draw a line under it and move on.” He gave Heyes a meaningful look.
“It can’t be re-written,” Heyes agreed, “but it can be avenged.”
Curry nodded, “It can,” he acknowledged, “but a wiser man than me once said ‘revenge is for fools’.” He gave Heyes a knowing look, “Don’t make yourself one.”
When Heyes made no response, Curry said, “Holster your gun, Heyes.”
“What’re you gonna do if I don’t? Shoot me?” growled Heyes.
“I might just at that.” said Curry, and Heyes knew he wasn’t joking.
Curry watched as Heyes struggled with his emotions before finally holstering his gun.
“Now you,” he said to the other man, “take out your gun, with your left hand, and toss it over here.”
The man did as he was told.
“Good,” said Curry, moving to stand at Heyes’ side, “Now, turn around and head back down that path towards town. And when you get there, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on your horse and leave. My partner here is far more Christian than me, he tries to abide by the Lord’s commandments. But me… well, let’s say I’m not much of a believer…” he said, menacingly, “and don’t even think of going to see the Sheriff… Not if you want to stay alive.”
The man nodded and began to back away.
Curry stood watching him for a few moments, as he turned and headed back towards the town, before turning to face Heyes who looked about ready to chase after him and beat him to a pulp.
“He’s not worth it, Heyes.” he said, placing a restraining palm against Heyes’ chest as he glared angrily after the disappearing man. He had been seriously concerned that Heyes would be goaded into shooting the man and putting their amnesty at risk. He could understand Heyes’ anger with him but it wasn’t worth throwing away their chance of freedom for.
“Let it go.” Heyes heard Curry say before, in the dim light of the moon, he saw the man appear to trip and go down on his knees. As he got to his feet he turned around and Heyes saw the glint of steel in the moonlight as he aimed the gun he’d just pulled from inside his boot.
“No!” He cried, instinctively drawing his gun and firing it, with no other conscious thought other than to protect Curry and himself.
Two shots sounded, almost simultaneously. Heyes saw the man go down on the ground, before Curry slammed against Heyes’ chest and then fell to his knees with a yelp of pain.
“Kid!” Heyes dropped to his knees beside him, holding onto his arm to keep him from falling flat.
“Back...” muttered Curry, looking on the verge of passing out.
Heyes pulled his jacket down, to see a bullet wound in his left shoulder. A quick examination revealed the bullet had either ricocheted off the scapula, or had narrowly missed it, and had lodged itself just below his armpit, not an immediately life-threatening wound but one that needed treating as soon as possible.
“It didn’t hit anything major.” said Heyes, “Stay here while I check on him…”
Getting up, he ran across to the other man, gun in hand, and stood looking down at his body and the red stain spreading across his shirt, Heyes’ bullet having hit him square in the chest. It was obvious he was dead.
Turning, he ran back to Curry, his first thought to get them away from the scene before someone came to investigate the shots.
“Those shots will have been heard.” he told him, “We need to get out of here before someone comes. Can you walk?”
“I… think so…” Curry ground out.
Heyes helped him to his feet and, pulling his good arm around his neck, put his own arm around Curry’s waist and supported him as they hurried into the trees and then circled round to the other end of the street.
Ducking into a dark alley between two buildings, Heyes said, “Wait here. I’ll go get our stuff, and the horses. I’ll be five minutes. You gonna be OK?”
Curry nodded, sitting himself on the ground and leaning back against the side of the building. His face was pale and perspiration stood out on his brow.
“O.K. Don’t pass out.” said Heyes, before moving to the end of the alley and peering cautiously around to check it was clear. He could hear voices at the other end of the street and guessed that the shots had been heard and people were going to investigate. They needed to hurry.
He ran across to the hotel to collect their belongings, thankful that, at this late hour, there was nobody on the front desk, allowing him to sneak out without being seen or paying their bill. Then he hurried over to the livery to collect their horses.
He headed down to where he’d left Curry and, checking there was nobody around, dismounted and quickly aided Curry onto his horse. Then they turned around and headed out of town in the opposite direction to where they’d left the dead man’s body.
After an hour of riding, they pulled the horses to a halt and Heyes helped Curry dismount.
“I need to get that bullet out of you, to lessen the risk of infection.” he told him.
Curry groaned, knowing it was necessary but not relishing the thought.
Heyes got a fire going and shoved his knife into the flames, to sterilise, it before moving to help Curry out of his jacket and shirt. Then he fetched a bottle of whisky, a needle and thread and a piece of rawhide, from their saddlebags.
“Lie face down.” he told him, once he was ready to commence the task.
Curry did so.
Heyes handed him the piece of rawhide, “Bite down on this,” he told him, “and try to keep still.”
Taking the knife from the fire, he poured a little of the whisky on it, to cool the blade and then turned to Curry.
“Ready?” he asked.
Curry nodded.
Taking the knife, Heyes began to probe around, inside the wound, for the bullet, while Curry tried to stifle his howls of pain.
Heyes put his knee on his back to keep him still as he tried to squirm away and, after several minutes of probing, finally located the bullet, by which time Curry had passed out.
Tossing the bullet aside, Heyes poured some whisky into the wound and then, taking the needle and thread, began to stitch it, pouring a little more whisky on it when he’d finished.
The wound was in a spot which was impossible to bandage, so Heyes fished out a clean shirt from Curry’s saddlebags and eased him into it.
As he was fastening the buttons, Curry began to stir.
“Is… it… out…” he muttered, a frown of pain on his brow.
“Yeah. I don’t think it hit anything other than muscle. You’re gonna be stiff for a while though.”
Curry nodded agreement.
“Here.” Heyes handed him a cup of whisky, “Drink this.”
Curry took the cup and downed the whisky.
“What happened back there?” he asked, presently.
“He must have had another gun, in his boot.” said Heyes, "I saw him trip and fall and when he stood up, he had it in his hand….”
He turned to look at Curry now, as the realisation of what he’d done began to dawn on him. He’d been so focused on protecting him, getting them away from the scene, and tending to his injury, he hadn’t had time to think of anything outside of that. Now that the immediate danger had passed his mind returned to what had happened.
“Was he dead?” asked Curry.
Heyes nodded, suddenly feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach.
Curry grimaced, “Stupid.” he chastised himself under his breath. Then, turning to look at Heyes, “I should have thought of that… It’s my fault… I’m sorry…”
Heyes closed his eyes, feeling sick at the knowledge that he’d taken a life. After all the years they’d been together, trying to survive, and all the years they’d spent outlawing, holding up trains and robbing banks without a single person being killed, he’d finally committed that gruesome act and, despite his hatred for the man, he was repulsed by it.
“I wanted to spare you this, Heyes.” said Curry, “That’s why I stepped in, before things got out of hand.”
Like Heyes, Curry wasn’t, by nature, a killer, but his reputation as a fast draw had prepared him more, mentally, for the prospect of killing, unlike Heyes who was mostly a pacifist. Curry had only deliberately killed once, but the other guy had forced it and this had allowed him to make peace with himself over it. He prided himself on being good enough, and fast enough, that he didn’t have to kill, and he probably could have avoided killing on that occasion too. But, on that occasion, he’d been avenging the death of a friend. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d reconciled himself to it, and to the fact that, at some point, it might be necessary to do it again.
Heyes, however, was of a different mindset. He carried a gun, but rarely used it, preferring to resolve conflicts with words rather than war. Curry’s skill with a gun had allowed them to resolve most of their conflicts without violence, since he could outdraw pretty much anyone, reducing the risk of any killing. And when there was violence, usually Curry shot to wound, not kill, thereby allowing Heyes to set aside any thoughts about killing and so was mentally unprepared for the effect that killing a man had on any peace-loving individual.
“I had no choice… It was him or you.” Heyes said now.
“I know.” Curry said gently, cursing himself for not having been able to prevent what had happened, and the torment he knew his friend would suffer because of it.
Heyes’ gaze slid off Curry to some point in the distance. Presently, he said, “I don’t know what I was thinking… I hated him for what he did… but…” he trailed off, lost in thought.
The guy had been right, he acknowledged, when he’d said he said he knew Heyes didn’t have it in him to kill him. Although his mind had told him he wanted to, he hadn’t had the heart for it. If Curry hadn’t stepped in, it was very likely he would have been the one getting shot. But now the man was dead, and it was all his fault. If he hadn’t gone after him and took him out there, he would still be alive. When he’d seen him in the saloon the previous night, he should have just suggested they leave town today and then it wouldn’t have happened. But hatred had driven him to seek him out, without any plan of action, or thought of the possible consequences, and it had backfired, big time.
“I feel sick.” Curry’s voice brought him out of his reverie.
He turned, just in time to see him throwing up into the grass, groaning as retching pulled on his injured shoulder.
His despondent thoughts were temporarily banished as concern for his friend took over.
“You need rest, and a doctor.” he told him.
Curry nodded, “We daren’t go back to Cheyenne.” he croaked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
Heyes nodded, “Not with a gunshot wound. Too risky. And it’s not ideal to camp out here, in case they send out a posse looking for the killer.”
“We could go to Lom’s.” Curry suggested.
“Probably safest.” Heyes acknowledged, “Think you can make it?” It was a day and a half ride from where they were now.
“I can make it.” Curry replied, his voice strained but firm.
“O.K. Let’s go.”
Heyes doused the fire and helped Curry onto his horse and they headed off towards Porterville.
​* * *
They arrived at Porterville just before noon a day and a half later, tired and jaded.
They’d kept sleep to a minimum, to speed their arrival, and had spoken little on the journey. Curry, in pain from his shoulder wound, hadn’t been in the mood for chatting, and Heyes had retreated back into himself as he struggled with his anguish over what had happened.
Luckily, today was Sunday and Lom was at home when they arrived at his cabin.
As Heyes dismounted and moved to help Curry off his horse, the door opened and Lom came out, having spotted their arrival through the window.
“Well, look who it aint!” he grinned, the grin quickly fading when he took in their dusty and dishevelled appearance, Curry’s pale face and Heyes’ dour expression.
“What happened?” he asked, his tone a mixture of concern and unease.
“Long story, Lom.” Heyes said now, “Kid’s hurt. Alright if we stay a while?”
“Well… I guess so...” He began, “You aint in any trouble are you?” he added. He had long warned them not to turn up on his doorstep if whatever trouble they were in was due to having been involved in something illegal.
“No more than usual.” Heyes said, grimly, supporting Curry as he stepped onto the porch and inside the cabin.
With a frown, Lom followed them inside, where Heyes was assisting Curry onto a chair at the kitchen table.
“Should I get the doctor?” he asked, noting the bullet hole in the back of his jacket.
Curry shook his head, “No. I just need to rest up a while. Been on the road for a spell.”
“But you’re shot.” said Lom, nodding towards his jacket.
“It’s OK. Heyes dug the bullet out of me. I’m just sore, and tired.”
“How long ago?” asked Lom.
“Day and a half.”
“You want to tell me what happened?” growled Lom, looking from one to the other.
“Not right now.” said Curry, flicking his gaze across to Heyes who was looking fixedly at his boots.
Lom gave a thoughtful nod, “Alright. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.” he said, nodding towards the spare bedroom.
“Thanks, Lom.” Curry gave him a tired smile before getting wearily to his feet and heading into the bedroom, with Heyes on his heels.
It was getting dark when Heyes emerged from the bedroom at five o’clock.
“Kid’s still sleeping.” he said, in answer to Lom’s questioning look.
Lom nodded, “Want some coffee?” he asked, holding up the coffee pot.
Heyes nodded and moved to sit at the table.
“So,” Lom began, as he set down the cups and seated himself at the table, “I guess it was pretty tough going, in the prison?”
Heyes gave a vague nod, and picked up the cup, keeping his gaze fixed on the table.
“Kid wired me to say it took him a while to persuade you to leave Laramie?”
Heyes nodded again, taking a sip of the coffee.
Lom studied him, noting the anguish in his face. Some of it he knew was due to concern for Curry, but not all. Lom assumed it was the residual effects of the prison regime, unaware of the additional emotional turmoil he was now trying to process.
“You were welcome to come and stay here for a while.” he continued presently.
“I know.” Heyes said, quietly, “But, I wasn’t ready…”
“Ready?” Lom looked puzzled.
“The prison regime… it nearly broke me… I could barely function when I got out.”
Lom nodded. He’d witnessed that many times in people who had served time in that place.
“And now?” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Now?”
“Do you want to explain what happened? I covered for you with the Governor’s office, you know. As far as they know, you and Kid are still out there, as Smith and Jones, keeping out of trouble, as part of your amnesty deal.” He eyed Heyes curiously. “I did so because I didn’t believe that cock and bull story you came up with at the trial. I know you, Heyes, and I know that when you give your word, you don’t go back on it. You gave me your word you’d stay on the straight and narrow and you’d both worked so hard, to stick at it, I didn’t believe you would throw it up to rob a bank. There had to be something more to it.”
When Heyes said nothing, Lom said, “Did I make a mistake?”
“Mistake?”
“In believing in you.”
It was a long moment before Heyes gave a vague shake of his head, and a whispered, “No.”
“So, what really happened?”
Heyes gave a deep sigh and shook his head, “I can’t talk about it right now…” he said, his voice hoarse as the mention of the bank robbery induced a wave of revulsion to wash over him, at the memory of what he’d done to the man who had instigated it.
Getting abruptly to his feet, he said, “I need some air.” crossing to the door and heading outside, leaving Lom looking after him in puzzlement.
Half an hour later, a groan from the bedroom indicated Curry had woken up.
Lom went into the bedroom and crossed to the bed.
“Hey. How’re you doin’?” he asked, with a smile.
Curry yawned, “Sore… and stiff… but better for the sleep.” Then, looking around the room, “Where’s Heyes?”
Lom sighed and perched himself at the foot of the bed, “Said he needed some air.”
Curry’s expression became troubled.
“He looked pretty upset. Somethin’ happen?”
Curry nodded, gloomily.
“Want to tell me? I asked him, but he wouldn’t.”
Curry sighed, and nodded, “I could use some coffee first.”
Lom nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with two cups of coffee.
Putting them on the dresser, he bent to help Curry sit up higher and propped an extra pillow behind him before handing him the coffee and then pulling up a chair to the side of the bed.
“Go on.” he said, picking up his own cup and taking a sip.
Curry recounted the circumstances leading to the bank robbery, exactly as Heyes had told them to him. Then he told him of how changed Heyes had been, on getting out of the prison, and of how it had taken him threatening to leave before he’d finally managed to get him to explain about the robbery, and to open up about the effects the prison regime had had on him, before going on to tell him about meeting the man, in Cheyenne, and of how Heyes had shot him.
“I blame myself.” said Curry, “I intervened to prevent bloodshed, not cause it. I didn’t expect the guy would have another weapon on him.” He shook his head, “But I should have expected it.” he said angrily, “Then Heyes wouldn’t have had to shoot him.” He gave a deep sigh, “I failed him.”
Lom stroked his chin, thoughtfully, as he reflected on what Curry had told him.
“Heyes is as tough as they come, you know that…” Curry continued presently, “but he aint got no stomach for killin’… not after what happened to our folks… “ He shook his head, “I aint no advocate of killin’ either but, with my reputation with a gun, there’s always gonna be someone who wants to try their luck against me, so I’ve had to prepare myself for that… you know, that him-or-me moment… kill or be killed. But Heyes aint, because I’ve always been able to protect him from it… until now.”
He gave a deep sigh, “He was starting to get back to being a bit like his old self, before we arrived in Cheyenne, but killing that guy…” he shook his head, “it’s messed him up, caused him to withdraw into himself again.” He thought for a moment before saying, “He told me he didn’t know what the hell he was thinking of, going after him like that, with no plan of action. He was driven by hatred, but hadn’t thought of the consequences of it. But that guy knew he didn’t have the stomach to kill him, so I had to step in, before he drew on him.”
“I can understand why Heyes would feel the way he did, after way that guy crossed him.” said Lom, “He put him in an impossible position – risking you getting killed and himself going to jail for twenty years, if he’d told the truth.” He shook his head, “With Heyes helping him they could easily have pulled off the robbery and both of them got away scot free, but I guess the guy didn’t want to share the loot, so used your identities against you, to blackmail Heyes into keeping quiet about who he really was.”
Curry nodded, “Yeah, Heyes could have played along with him. Things might have turned out differently if he had, but he told him he’d quit safe-breaking, that he wasn’t sure he could still do it even if he wanted to. But the guy wasn’t having any of it.”
Lom nodded to himself, pleased that he had been right about Heyes’ motivations and glad that he had opted not to advise the Governor’s office of what had happened.
“So, what are you gonna do now?” he asked presently.
“Not sure. We wouldn’t have troubled you by coming here, but we couldn’t stay in Cheyenne and this was the nearest place we knew we’d be safe. Another day’s rest and I’ll be good to travel, so we’ll get out of your hair.”
“And go where?” Lom raised an eyebrow.
Curry shrugged.
“It’s only a week ‘til Christmas, why don’t you stay here until then?” Lom suggested. I’d be glad of the company and it’ll give you two time to plan your next move.”
“That’s very nice of you, Lom. I’d like that, but I’ll have to see what Heyes wants to do.”
“Sure.” smiled Lom.
“In fact, I think I’ll go look for him.” said Curry, swinging his legs to the floor and gingerly standing up.
“You O.K?” asked Lom, reaching out to steady him as he swayed unsteadily.
“Yeah, just a bit dizzy, but I’m O.K.”
“I’ll be fixing supper in an hour or so.” Lom told him, as Curry headed outside.
“Thanks.”
On the porch, Curry looked around him for a sign of Heyes, but could see none.
Stepping off the porch he wandered over to check on their horses, which Lom had unsaddled and put in the corral, before heading off in the opposite direction, towards a copse of trees some distance away. As he passed the side of the cabin, he did a double take when he saw Heyes perched on one of a number of bales of hay stacked at the side of it, one knee pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped round it, gazing absently into the night.
Turning, he headed across to him. The air was cold and frost was beginning to form on the trees and bushes, but Heyes seemed unaware of the chill, his mind elsewhere.
“Heyes?”
Heyes didn’t acknowledge him.
Curry moved to sit alongside him on the hay bale.
“It’s freezing out here, you’re gonna catch…” he’d been about to say ‘your death’ but quickly changed it. “cold.”
“Heyes?” he said again, when he made no response.
“How do you live with it, Kid… Killin’?” Heyes said, some moments later.
Curry thought about it for a moment.
“I don’t know… I’ve only deliberately done it once… and that was more about rightin’ a wrong than just killin’.”
“But it must have bothered you?”
Curry considered that.
“I guess it did. But I’ve reconciled it.”
“How?”
“Because it needed doin’. The guy had no remorse for what he’d done.”
When Heyes didn’t reply, Curry said, “Look, Heyes, I know what you’re thinking, but you had no choice. If I hadn’t stepped in, it probably would have come to a shoot-out anyway, and maybe both of you would have ended up dead.”
“But I did have a choice. I had a choice to not have gone after him.”
That was true enough, Curry had to admit.
“If I hadn’t gone after him, he’d still be alive.”
“Then why did you go after him?” questioned Curry, “You aint no killer. What did you hope to achieve?”
Heyes sighed and shook his head, “I don’t know… I was just so… consumed with hatred… When I saw him in the saloon… I couldn’t let him go without… I don’t know, asking him why he double crossed me… letting him know what it cost me…” He shrugged, “I don’t know… like I said… I didn’t have any kind of plan.”
“But you had your gun on him when I caught up with you. Even if you hadn’t consciously thought of shooting him, you must have realised that there was a good chance it was gonna end in bloodshed?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking, Kid… I don’t know if I even was thinking. If I had been, I wouldn’t have done it… I wish I hadn’t done it.” Heyes replied, gruffly. What he didn’t voice was the thought that maybe, subconsciously, killing him had been in the back of his mind all the time and that if Curry hadn’t stepped in when he had, he may well have pulled the trigger. He didn’t want to believe that, but the thought persisted.
“Even after what he did across you?” questioned Curry.
“Like he said, after he knocked me out, in the bank, he could have killed me, or turned me over to the Sheriff. But he didn’t. He might not have been lying when he said he didn’t know how long I’d be out for and thought I would come round before anyone found me. Did that give me the right to kill him?” He shook his head, “I didn’t kill him for anything as lofty as justice, to avenge the death of a friend, like you did. I killed him in cold blood.” He turned bleak eyes to Curry’s now, “That makes me a murderer.”
“Oh, Heyes, you aint no murderer. You didn’t shoot him all the time you were standing there arguin’ with him, which you could have if you were a killer. You only shot him when he tried to shoot at me. At us. You know, if I hadn’t been standing where I was that bullet would have hit you in the chest. You fired in self-defence, Heyes, and it’s my fault you had to do that, because I messed up. I should have considered that he might have a concealed weapon on him. If I had, it would have been me that shot him, not you.”
“Maybe. But you wouldn’t have killed him, just wounded him.” said Heyes.
“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t.”
Heyes sighed, “But, if I hadn’t taken him there in the first place, he’d still be alive.”
“Look, Heyes, it’s pointless going over the what if’s. What’s done is done, you can’t change it. He died because he couldn’t take a hint, and leave town like I told him. If he’d just walked away he’d still be alive. But he just had to push it. It was his choice to pull that gun, not yours. You were just lookin’ out for me. Like I do for you.”
“I guess.” Heyes acknowledged.
“He’s cost you enough already, Heyes,” Curry continued, in reference to his time in the prison and the psychological damage it had inflicted on him, “don’t let him cost you any more. Just let it go.”
Heyes gave a vague nod, his gaze fixed on the ground.
“If you hadn’t shot him, I’d probably be dead now.” Curry continued, “I messed up, but you saved me. Thank you.”
“It should be me thanking you.” Heyes said presently.
“What for?”
“You’ve put your life on the line to protect me more times than I can count, and I’m grateful... I guess I never considered, before, the effects of what doing that can have on a body.” He shook his head, “You’ve got more guts than I’ll ever have.”
Curry smiled, “You’re Hannibal Heyes! Of course you’ve got guts… and brains… and a silver tongue! There aint many folks who can lay claim to that many talents.” he said, nudging him good-humouredly, “Maybe shooting isn’t one of them, but I guess you can’t have everything.”
Despite his melancholy mood, Heyes couldn’t stop the smile that came to his lips at Curry’s words.
“I may not be as good as you, but I generally hit what I aim at.” he replied.
Curry grinned, pleased to see that his words were beginning to lighten his mood.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Heyes.” he said, becoming serious once more, “You’ve got guts. To go through what you did, because of that guy, and keep it to yourself, to protect me, and our chance for amnesty. I don’t know that I could have done that.”
“You could, if the alternative was twenty years in jail and losing your partner.”
Curry gave a nod of acknowledgment.
“Well, it’s done with now. You need to let it go and move on.”
Heyes gave a heavy sigh. He knew what Curry was trying to say, but killing that man wasn’t something that he could, or would want to forget about. It would stay with him forever. He just hoped he could learn to live with the guilt of it.
After a moment, he nodded, “I’ll do my best.”
Curry put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
They sat in silence for several moments before Curry said, “Who was he anyway?”
Heyes thought for a moment before saying, “His name was Bart Miller. I knew him when I was with the Plummer gang.”
“Never heard of him.” said Curry.
“I wish I hadn’t either.” Heyes said, wryly.
They fell silent once more before, some minutes later, Curry said, “Lom’s invited us to stay for Christmas. I said I’d check with you.”
Heyes thought for a moment.
“Might be nice. To spend Christmas somewhere where we won’t have to up and leave at the drop of a hat.” he said presently.
“O.K. then?” asked Curry.
Heyes nodded. “O.K.”
“And soon it’ll be New Year. A fresh start.” said Curry, giving Heyes a pointed look.
Heyes nodded, thoughtfully, “Maybe this new Governor will even get round to granting that amnesty too.” he said, although, at this present moment, after what had happened, he felt himself undeserving of it.
“Let’s hope so.” Curry stood up, “Come on, Lom said he’d have supper ready. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
Heyes got to his feet, rolling his eyes at Curry’s unquenchable appetite.
With a warm smile, Curry threw his arm around Heyes’ shoulder and shepherded him back into the cabin. His time in the prison had almost broken his will and killing Bart Miller had wounded him to his very soul. Reconciliation would take time but Curry was confident he would succeed. His spirit, though damaged, was unbroken. Like a phoenix he would rise from the ashes of his suffering and then they could look forward, to the future, together.
--oo00oo--
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