March

“Jones! Quit your lollygagging, get your lazy butt back to work! I ain’t paying you to waste my time!” bellowed a large man with a prodigious belly hanging over a cinched-in waist.  His florid face was topped by a stubbly field of gray hair.


The Kid rolled his eyes and dropped the dipper back into the bucket where he’d drawn water for a quick drink. Using his sweat-stained sleeve, he wiped his mouth and swallowed. 


Heyes looked up from the grain he was shoveling into a wheelbarrow and stared at the man who was paying them little more than slave wages. If Buck Grimes only knew who he’d been riding hard for weeks, he’d learn to be a touch more respectful. Shifting his glance to his partner, he saw only casual compliance but he knew the Kid was seething. For some reason, Grimes had it out for the blond ex-outlaw and focused his ugly attention almost exclusively on him.
 
Heyes couldn’t figure it out. Grimes had been a grumpy cuss when they’d taken the job but, as time wore on, he’d turned nastier and nastier towards the Kid who’d done nothing, far as Heyes could tell, to be singled out. He sighed. He’d spent every evening this week talking his partner out of quitting. 


They’d been dead broke and on the run from being recognized in Dolores when they’d ridden into the aptly named Disappointment Valley. There was no living off the land to be done here and they’d been forced to sell the horses and most of their gear to afford to eat before they got this job and could begin earning money to replace what they’d sold. It had seemed like a good plan to hide out in this hellhole for a few weeks, but Heyes was willing to admit he’d made a mistake. The land was desert dry for a hundred miles in any direction, with the exception of Grimes’ Heartbreak Ranch, and they’d been lucky to sign on here. A rare, very productive spring fed the ranch and permitted Grimes to grow oats and run cattle before selling both at exorbitant prices to other valley residents not as lucky. It also made him a bully and the Kid hated bullies.


Mrs. Grimes was a study in contradiction. She seemed submissive to her blustering spouse but didn’t hesitate to boldly order Heyes and the Kid around; often getting them in trouble for shirking their duties while seeing to hers. She fed them well, made sure they had enough at every meal, but watched them like she feared for her silverware. Her two small children were constantly warned to steer clear of the hired hands. 
 
Sauntering back to his partner as slowly as possible, the Kid whistled a tune and swung the shovel he carried as he walked up to Heyes. With a smile on his face, he whispered, “One more insult and I swear I’m plantin’ him, Heyes.”  His shovel speared into the pile of oats with a vengeance before lobbing the grain into the wheelbarrow.
  
“No, you won’t. You’re not a killer and you ain’t starting now.” Heyes’ belly tightened as he thought of Danny Bilson stretched out in a dusty street, a bullet through the center of his heart. The Kid wasn’t a killer, he’d been defending himself when Bilson challenged him and Bilson had been very, very good. So good Heyes had been worried.


The Kid frowned and nodded, “You’re right. Killing is too easy for him.”
“Shh,” hushed Heyes, his eyes focused behind the Kid. 


“Jones! I’m docking your pay for that fence you mended. That old sow busted right through it again. Dammit, you idiot, can’t you do anything right?”


“Apparently not,” growled the Kid glaring at Grimes, his chest puffing out, and his hand dropping to where his Colt should’ve hung. 


Heyes quickly slid between the two men. “I’ll get to fixing that right away, Mr. Grimes. Thaddeus here will finish up storing away the oats, won’t you, Thaddeus?” The icy blue glare slid away from it’s target and locked on brown eyes. “Won’t you, Thaddeus?” repeated Heyes harshly.


Not trusting himself to speak, the Kid turned back to the wheelbarrow and began shoveling as slowly as possible.


Heyes switched his attention to the rancher. “I see the missus is putting out lunch on the veranda. Why don’t you go pour yourself a tall glass of her delicious lemonade and enjoy your meal.  I’ll have that fence mended and help Thaddeus finish up here before you’re done.”


Grimes grunted. “See that it holds this time or you’ll be out of a job. Both of you!”


“Yessir,” responded Heyes. Watching until Grimes was out of earshot, Heyes then spun around and opened his mouth, but was abruptly cut off by his partner.


“Save it, Heyes. I heard it all before.”


“Kid…”


“I said save it!” snapped Curry.


“We have enough.”


“What?”


“When Grimes pays us after lunch, we quit. The stage comes through at five tonight. When I picked up Mrs. Grimes dry goods in town this morning, I booked us two seats to Wright’s Mesa. We’ll have enough left over to stake us a couple of nags when we get there.” Heyes waited until the words sunk in and then he grinned in response to the Kid’s beaming smile.


“Well, don’t just stand there, partner. Go fix the damn fence!” 


###


Heyes wheeled the barrow up the planking that led to the top of the tall silo and dumped the last of the grain inside before sliding the loading door shut. He climbed down the ladder. The Kid was carefully checking the latch that prevented the oats from pouring out of the bottom chute and spilling onto the ground. “I ain’t takin’ any chances, Heyes.”


###


Quitting did not go well but at least they’d filled their bellies on Mrs. Grimes’ chicken and dumplings before bringing the subject up. The couple had reacted exactly how Heyes had imagined. Their money had been shoved at them, after no small amount of haggling, and they’d been given only minutes to pack the little gear they had. 


Heyes buckled his saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder as he turned to see the Kid was strapping on his holster.


“You really need to wear that?” he asked skeptically.


With a jerk of his head, the Kid redirected Heyes to the sight of Grimes stepping off his veranda, a scattergun in his hands. Heyes groaned. “Don’t.” He followed the Kid outside, his stomach in knots.


“You two march your tails the hell off my property or I’m filling your seats with buckshot!” yelled Grimes, gesturing towards the road. He followed them as far as the large shadow thrown by the silo and stood hurling invectives. 


The two ex-outlaws had just reached the ranch gate when the boom of the shotgun went off and shot riddled the top of the gateposts. Heyes ducked low but the Kid spun around, his gun already in his hand, and fired. Reluctantly, Heyes looked back, afraid to see. The latch to the grain silo was gone and several tons of oats had already buried Grimes up to his neck, yet he still manage to scream threats and insults. Mrs. Grimes and the two kids were standing on the porch gaping at him. Heyes started to chuckle.


“Told you, I’d plant ‘im.”


“You did a fine job, too.  By the time they dig old man Grimes out, we’ll be halfway to the mesa, but let’s hurry anyways.”


“Happy to.”