Interest

“Heyes will you stop lookin' at that bank as if it's your new best friend! You're makin' me nervous.”

“Kid, stop fussing will ya. I ain't even a bit tempted...”

“'Scuse me if I ain't exactly convinced Heyes! You know how long you've been staring at that door?”

“Ain't been that long, Kid.”

The Kid humphed in disgust at his partner's comment, it'd been well over half an hour and the fact Heyes had lost track of the time was telling in itself. Kid Curry sighed, he'd known they were in trouble, the moment he'd noticed the gleam of interest in his partner's face as his eyes had fallen on the brand new, most recently redesigned Pierce and Hamilton being carried into the bank. For all his protestations to the contrary, the Kid knew full well that Heyes sometimes missed the challenge of opening safes and feeling them yield to him. If the stakes hadn't been so high and he'd not been so worried, the Kid was pretty sure that his partner would have enjoyed his success at opening the safe with Harry Waggoner. He'd certainly got a kick out of it the first time round.

“You're always telling me to stay out of trouble and not draw no attention to us and now you're sitting staring at that damn bank as if you wanna marry it! I'm sure the sheriff has noticed and that it won't be long 'till he starts looking at us funny and figures he oughta be studying his wanted posters with more attention than usual.” The Kid's voice had risen slightly in exasperation and his mood wasn't helped when his partner waved a dismissing hand and responded with a slight smile and an off hand comment. “You're worrying too much, same as usual, Kid.”

But his face dropped when the Sheriff, who they knew was called Thomas Morton, having already made sure they weren't familiar with him before checking into the hotel came up to them looking serious. “Now I can't help but notice your interest in our little bank and I'm wondering exactly what's caught your attention. We're mighty proud of the fact that our town ain't been robbed for over five years and I'm looking to keep it that way.”

The Kid fighting the urge to rest his hand on his gun, instead folded his arms and glared at his partner with a told you this would happen expression on his face. Heyes merely shrugged and indicated the Kid's holster with a nod, his face clearly saying. “Well, makes a change that it ain't you and that gun attracting unwelcome attention.”

He then turned to the law-man and smiled his friendliest and most innocent smile. “I surely ain't got no interest in robbing your bank. Just ever since I bin a young 'un, safes have fascinated me. Used to drive my dear folks half round the bend, 'specially my Pa. Ain't never been able to shake it none. And when I saw that pretty little safe I got real distracted. Ain't that true Thaddeus? My cousin here is real patient with me and makes sure I don't get into no trouble.”

The Kid saw that Heyes' country drawl, vague expression and aww shucks demeanour was having the desired effect on the law-men. His face had lost most of its suspicion and as Heyes rambled on, Morton glanced over at the Kid with a sympathetic expression on his face, obviously figuring as had been intended, that Heyes was a bit simple and needed keeping an eye on. The Kid returned the look with a small shrug and smile and said firmly. “Now, Joshua, I think it's time we were heading back to the hotel, don't want no-one else getting the wrong idea.” He placed his arm firmly round Heyes' shoulders and with a hat tip to the slightly bemused law man propelled his friend towards the hotel. He thought Heyes' performance would at least make it safe for them to stay the night. Gullible folk were thankfully never a match for Heyes' silver tongue. He did wonder how the town had escaped being robbed for so long, but pushed that thought away and concentrated on making his walk appear as unconcerned as possible.

As soon as they were out of the sheriff's hearing Heyes released himself from Kid's grip, turned and grinned in some triumph. “Now, that went real easy don't ya think? Weren't no need to worry.”

The Kid sighed and shook his head. “Ya know Heyes, one of these days my heart's just gonna give up on me, giving how much strain you put on it sometimes.”

Heyes threw him an offended look, but then grinned and slapped his back. “Nah, the odds are far more in favour of us getting caught before your heart has a chance to give up on you.”

The Kid snorted and shook his head, deciding that it just wasn't important enough to worry, after all a potential crisis had been easily avoided. “All that worryin' has made me hungry, Heyes, so you owe me a steak dinner.”

“Everything makes you hungry, Kid.” But Heyes didn't argue and simply changed direction to walk towards the brightly coloured café next to the livery.

Waiting in Porterville for their next amnesty assignment, Hannibal Heyes and Jed Curry were once again reading the long-lost letters from Valparaiso in their tiny second story office.


“Kid, listen to this one.  Name sounds kinda familiar. It's almost ten years old.”  Without waiting for an answer, Heyes shared the letter out loud.


“Dear Proprietors of The Valparaiso Home for Wayward Boys,


We are searching for Thomas Timothy Trent.  He is my half-brother, we have the same father.  He has been missing for two years and we learned recently he was put on an orphan train to Kansas.  He would be twelve-years old now.  He has a triangle shaped burn on his left shin.  


If he is there, we will come get him.  Please let us know.


Theodore Triston Trent.”


Putting down the letter, Heyes stared across the desk at his partner and realized he had not heard a word of the letter.  “You know this Thomas Timothy Trent, Kid.”


“Kid!”


“What, Heyes?  I’m tryin’ to do something here,” answered Curry without looking up at him, busy writing on the paper in front of him.


“And I’m trying to get through these letters.  Just what are you doing that has you so engrossed?”


Making a face, Curry looked up.  “Grossed?  Nothing about this is gross.”


Heyes grinned.  “Not gross.  Engrossed – it means thoroughly absorbed in something.”  


“Guess I was engrossed then.  This is important so I guess it’s right to be absorbed.”  Curry picked up his pencil and went back to writing.  Stopping every so often he leaned back on his chair, balancing until the front legs left the floor.  Tapping his pencil on his lips, he’d stare at the ceiling.  A warm smile would cross his face and he would snap his chair forward and write again.


“What’s more important than these letters?”  Heyes was losing his patience.  “These people have waited years for answers.”


Curry met Heyes eyes and smiled.  “Those letters are very important, I know it.  This is important to us.”


‘Us?  Just what are you writing, Kid?”


“Makin’ a list,” Curry answered as if that explained everything.


Heyes decided to take another tack in his questioning.  “What makes this list so important?  Is it which diners serve your favorite food each day?”


“Hmmm.  Hadn’t thought of that.”


“Kid!”


“All right.  Remember when we used to rob trains and banks and then we was tryin’ so hard to get amnesty?”


“Kid, the list?”


“Well, when one of us would meet a pretty girl, we’d always say, ‘that road ahead is closed.’ because we didn't live a life where a wife and family were a choice?”  


Heyes was confused but knew Curry was trying to express something, he just didn’t know what.


“Well, now we got amnesty and maybe the road ahead opened up.  So, I’m making a list with columns for you and me and listin’ some of the women we know to see if maybe we're interested in startin' something up with one of them.”


Smiling with his dimples, Heyes reached for the list.  “You just might have something there, Kid.  Let me see your list.”


“No, it ain’t finished yet.”  Curry covered the list with his hands.  “But I’ll read what I got and maybe you got some ideas.”


Now it was Heyes turn to lean back in his chair.  “Okay, who you got.”


‘Well, there’s some I got in the column titled ‘Both’.


“Both?”


“Yeah, like we both may be interested.  Wanted to be fair with the list.”


“Okay, who’s in the ‘Both’ column?”


“Well, Clem for one.”  


Heyes nodded but said nothing.


“And Georgette and Grace Turner.”


“Grace Turner?  Yeah, she knew the con game well.  She’s wanted now.  Her road ahead is closed.”  Heyes leaned forward in his chair now, elbows leaning on the desk.  "And what about Mary Cunningham?  We both liked her,” he added, his thoughts thinking of women they had known.


“Had nice kids too.  Yeah, I’ll add her.  And I have Kate Lewis there too.”


The memory brought a smile to Heyes’ face.  “McGuffin’s daughter?  Wonder if she’s a treasury agent by now?  She the kind you looking for, Kid?  Don’t seem too needy to me.”


“Don’t think I’m lookin’ for needy, Heyes.  Want someone to build a life with.  Maybe I ain’t met her yet.”  Curry was staring at the ceiling again.


“Anyone else in that column?”  Heyes was lost in his thoughts.


“No, I have some in the no column, though.”


"Who is a no?"


“Well, Beth and Bridget Jordan are sweet, but too young.  Annabelle is probably a farmer’s wife by now.  Betsy was mostly interested in diamonds and money.  Molly is becomin’ a nun. I ain’t competin’ with God for a woman.”  Curry was looking at his list.  “Wasn’t sure where to put Cybele Snively?  No sparks for me with her.  You interested in her?”


“No, no sparks there.  Nice girl, but her father and his potions just barely stay on the right side of the law.  Now that we got our amnesty, I’d like to stay a free man.”  Orphanage letters forgotten, Heyes started making his own list.  “And BeeGee is taken.”


“Yeah, I think she found what she wanted.”  


“Okay, Kid, then who do you have in my column?” Heyes questioned, curious about his cousin’s thinking in the matter.


Looking down, Curry glanced at Heyes, a small smile tickling his lip.  “Well, I put Julia in your column.”


“Ahh, Julia.”  Heyes let the exciting memory of their last kiss fill his thoughts.  “Yes, Julia belongs there.”


“And Leslie.”


“Leslie? No, not Leslie.  Just wouldn’t work out,” Heyes said, yet the memory of the pleasant kisses they shared to shut her up made him smile and Curry left her name where it was.  


“Well, I got her friend, Margaret, on my list.  If I ever get back East, I might look her up.”  Curry thought how sad he felt when he saw her off at the train station.  At that time, he definitely felt that the road to a serious relationship was closed to him.  


“And I wasn’t sure where to put Ellen and Mary Lewis; you know, the ones that were on that stage that ended up at Diablo Station.”


Heyes thought for a moment.  “No and no for me with the Lewis sisters.”


“Me, too,” Curry agreed.  “But I got Michelle, Emma Sterling, and Charlotte Austin on my list.”


“What about Ellen Anderson?  Didn’t you enjoy your moonlight ride with her?” asked Heyes.


“Yeah, it was pleasant, and it got her back to her father.  Not sure I’d want to court someone whose father is friends with the governor; rather stay away from that if I can.”  Kid’s eyes teased, and he pointed his pencil towards his partner.
“Got two more for your list, Heyes, and maybe the first one got to you even more than Julia.”


“Who’s that, Kid?” asked Heyes, knowing who the Kid was talking about, but still wanting to hear her name.


“The schoolteacher, Amy Martin.”


Memories of poetry and pleasant evenings together forced their way into Heyes’ thoughts.  “Yeah it was hard to watch Amy leave even after what she did.”  His gaze came back to Curry.  “Who else?”


“The widow Sarah Henderson, she’s rich, sweet and beautiful.”  Curry watched Heyes carefully.


Slowly a face crept across Heye’s face until his brown eyes smiled.  “Beautiful she is but her brother is awful protective,” Heyes said.


“But I do like Jim Stokely.” Curry smiled as he remembered the gunfighter.


‘Well, that’s as far as I’ve gotten.  Some good women there.  There might be even more out there.  I’m lookin’ forward to meetin’ more of them.  Amnesty changed the game.  The game changed because of freedom. ”  Curry was adamant. 


“Something to think about, Kid.  Definitely something to think about.”


“Oh, and Heyes, Thomas Timothy Trent is ThreeT; remember we first met him at Valparaiso.  Told us he got that scar from his aunt’s iron.”


“ThreeT,” Heyes remembered, then the memory continued.  “Er, don’t want to tell his half-brother what happened to him.  Think I’ll just write a letter that says he was there but have no information after the Home.”


“Yeah, better than tellin’ them the truth; he always was troubled and violent,” Curry said softly.

Heyes finished the thought, “Stayed violent as an adult.  Killed three men in a bar fight and hung for it.  That’s not the memory we want them to have.”