Trudge

Admin Posts : 8858 Join date : 2013-08-24

Thanks to Kattayl for playing in February's challenge. The prompt for March, should you choose to accept it, is:

Trudge

What are you waiting for? Get writing.

Subject: Re: Trudge Thu Mar 30, 2023 7:00 pm

March 2023 Challenge Story

Trudge

Hannibal Heyes trudged wearily into the small dusty town of Road’s End and headed to the salon with a cane made from a tree limb, dragging his left leg. Hesitating outside the batwing doors, he took a deep breath. Setting his makeshift cane next to the window he tried to stand up straight on his leg. The left leg collapsed. Resigned, he grabbed the cane and pushed the doors open.

The one man in the world he trusted and wanted to see in the saloon was not there. The one man he had wrongly trusted and wanted to avoid was sitting at the back table playing poker.

He didn’t have enough money for a room but had enough for a beer.

“You seen my partner in here? We were here together three days ago?” he asked the bartender as he ordered his beer. “My height, sandy brown hair, blue eyes?”

Ignoring the question, the barkeep walked to the far end of the bar and served a waiting customer. Then he returned. “Saw him here with you. I remember men that wear their guns tied down.”

Heyes took a welcome sip of the beer. “Seen him since?”

“Might have.”

Heyes reached into his pocket and deftly withdrew half of his remaining money. “That’s all I got in the world until I find my partner.”

“Should have known,” the barkeep chuckled. “He was in the next night. Mr. Jenkins, he owns the bank, came in looking for someone to deliver papers two towns over. Your partner volunteered.”

Heyes sighed loudly. “Thanks.” He picked up his beer to go to a table, forgot about his leg and cane and crumbled to the floor, spilling the beer all over himself.

ASJ*****ASJ

Only one thing had gone right for Heyes since Jim Plummer stole the take from a robbery and his gang broke up. He tried in vain to find a gang in Wyoming or Colorado that needed a good safe man. Got arrested once for asking the wrong person that question. He spent three nights in jail until he convinced the sheriff that he was an undercover Bannerman detective trying to work his way into a gang.

The jail cell had been better than being alone and out in the rain. He had enjoyed the company of the sheriff and his son, the deputy. Enjoyed the evening poker game that was allowed. Of course, he stayed locked up. The table was set up outside the cell and he reached through the bars. He even purposely didn’t win too much. When he got out, he was more careful about trying to find a new gang.

About two weeks later, the only right thing that happened, happened by accident. He was working in a saloon, sweeping up the place during the day and washing the floors and taking out the trash at night. At sundown one night, he heard a familiar sound with he was emptying the trash. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Then a stop to reload and the sound of someone practicing shooting resumed.

The Kid and Heyes had split up when Heyes joined the Plummer Gang. Curry hadn’t wanted to join a gang he didn’t know a lot about. Heyes felt bad about it now that following Plummer turned out to be the wrong choice. The Kid had wanted to stay together and kinda honest. But no matter where they were, if he had money for the bullets, the Kid practiced his shooting.

Heyes had approached the end of the dead-end alley cautiously at first. He studied the man before him and knew him instantly. His cousin had grown up, filled out and gained a reputation as a fast gun. Heyes had read about him in the papers when he could, but hadn’t found anything in the last seven months. He clapped his hands when all six of the cans jumped off the fence in rapid order.

The Kid had turned around quickly, empty gun pointed at Heyes.

“Heyes!” he had said with a smile.

And that was it; all was forgotten. They were partners again. That was three weeks ago. Heyes was worried that the Kid didn’t say much, although they were comfortable together. Heyes had asked but the Kid never said what he’d been doing the last seven years.

“Kid, what do you think about us joining another gang?” Heyes asked tentatively.

When the Kid smiled this time, it was the same easy smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a harder edge to the Kid now. He was wary of strangers. Heyes figured it took something out of you to get a reputation as a fast gun.

“Ain’t against it anymore long as we check out the gang first. Some of them like killin’ to intimidate and show how powerful they are.”

“We will, I promise.”

Heyes didn’t mean to, but he’d broken that promise and ended up hurt, broke, and alone.

The Kid and him had wandered into Road’s End after a long ride, cold and on edge. They pooled their money and Heyes multiplied it at the poker table.

“Kid, I found us a gang that needs a safe man and a gunnie. Vern Hendry’s the leader.” Heyes had been so excited that he expected the Kid to be too.

“You check him out?”

“I’ll talk to the bartender,” he answered before the Kid could stop him.

As he walked back to the table, he saw the harder edge to his partner in his face and in his manner. It was going to take a lot to convince him.

“Says the gang comes here all the time,” Heyes said as he sat down.

“That’s all the checkin’ you gonna do?” The Kid’s voice was a low growl.

Heyes knew he had to use his silver tongue now, but it had never worked too well on his cousin.

“They got a job tomorrow morning. They want us both to join in. We’ll each get a full share of the take,” he said, trying to convince Curry.

“Where?”

“South of here.”

Once Curry steepled his fingers in front of his face in thought, Heyes knew he wasn’t going to agree.

“Tell you what, I’ll go with Vern, feel them out. Open the safe for them. Get my full share I was promised and then we’ll discuss it. We could use the money.”

“You go with them, don’t know if I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Aw Kid, you ain’t never been stupid. This is our opportunity.”

“Your choice, Heyes.”

Heyes watched in amazement as the Kid drained his drink, stood up and left. “Kid, wait!” Heyes had gone after him, but the street was empty.

ASJ*****ASJ

And the Kid had been right. Everyone in the gang had been friendly and amazed he opened the safe without dynamite. Vern Hendry had led them all out of town, stopping at a small shack about two miles away. Heyes watched him count the large take thinking of the delights that money would buy for him and his cousin.

But that didn’t happen. When he stood up to collect his take, something hit him hard on the back of his head. When he woke up, he’d been dragged by the feet out into the brush. His horse was gone. His gun, hat and boots were gone. His eyes and jaws were aching, and he had a hell of a headache. When he tried to stand, his left leg wouldn’t hold him.

And now he was back where he started, in the saloon in Road’s End. But the Kid was gone, and he was alone watching Vern Hendry, the man who welched on his promise of a full share of the take, laughing while playing poker.

“Next time you gonna listen to me?” The Kid’s voice was behind him. He helped him stand up. Heyes grabbed the Kid’s arm, leaning heavily on him as they found a table.

Hope, that’s what Heyes defined what he felt. Even though he was soaked in beer, he had hope that he might have another chance. “Yeah, I’ll listen. You have some good ideas. You gonna tell me now where you been the last seven months? All stories about the gunfighter Kid Curry just disappeared from the newspapers. Where were you?”

Curry came around and sat opposite Heyes. He picked up his partner’s almost empty beer and finished it in one gulp. Then he stared into the empty glass. “I learned to be careful who I trusted while spendin’ six months in prison for trustin’ the wrong man.”

Heyes, for once, didn’t know what to say, but he knew what to do. He held up two fingers to the barkeep then looked his partner in the eyes. “Think we both learned there’s only one person we can ever trust…each other.

Heyes heard Vern Hendry’s voice laughing at the poker table. Curry looked the same way.

“That the man that did this to you?”

Heyes nodded but turned away, but his prison hardened partner stood.

Curry checked his gun and reholstered it. “Let’s go get what he owes you.” He handed Heyes his makeshift cane and led the way to the poker table.

Heyes realized that his partner had learned a threatening stance, a gunfighter’s stance, while they were apart.

“Vern Hendry, I believe you owe my partner some money.” The Kid’s voice was quiet, but his tone allowed no contradiction.

Hendry looked up from his cards and into the now steel blue eyes of his opponent. He looked at Heyes and back at Curry.

“Partner?” Hendry asked.

“Partner,” Curry answered firmly.

“Ah, Vern, that’s Kid Curry,” one of the other poker players said with a tremble in his voice.

Vern’s right hand moved.

Before he could reach to his side and draw his gun, Curry’s gun was in his hand.

“Wouldn’t try to go for your gun. Take it out with two fingers and put it on the table. All of you do that.” Heyes was startled at the harshness in his partner’s voice.

“Good. Now, Hendry, the money you owe my partner.”

Hendry reached into his breast pocket and took out a stack of bills. He counted some out.

“That right?” Curry asked Heyes, who nodded then picked up the money.

“That your gun?” Curry held his gun on Hendry while he pointed at a Scofield among the colts on the table.

Heyes picked it up. “Sure is.”

Curry motioned him to back away and stepped backwards still holding his gun on the men. “Barkeep, come over here. Take those guns. They can have them back when we’ve been gone fifteen minutes.”

“Now where’s Heyes’ horse?”

“Tied out in front,” one of the players answered quickly.

“One more thing,” Curry growled, but motioned Heyes to keep moving. “You took his hat. Don’t see it on any of you, but Hendry, that black one of yours with the silver things on the band will do.”

“But...”

“The hat!”

Hendry took it off and threw it on the table. Before picking it up, Curry handed the barkeep some bills. Keep them here awhile.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Curry, sir!”

Heyes wondered at the respect the Kid got when he pulled his gun, but left and found his horse. Curry plopped the black hat on his head before helping him into the saddle. “Hat fits you!”

Heyes smiled, knowing he could trust his partner to take care of him. And his partner could trust him to thoroughly check out the gang that they would join together

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