There's hardly any revision in this one - not much more than a typo.
On a warm, clear day in mid-June, Kid Curry waited at the dusty little Louisville train station. He watched anxiously for the train coming from the east. He stood, shifting from leg to leg. He kept peering into the distance as if looking for it would make the train come faster. Or maybe slower. He was kind of nervous about seeing Heyes again. Would he be like now that he could talk again, if only a little? There the train was at last; the smoke visible in the distance and the whistle echoing while the mountains still hid the train itself. Then the engine was pulling in slowly, clouds of steam rolling along its sides. A familiar form jumped off before the train had quite stopped. Heyes' old battered black cowboy hat was on his head and his bulging saddle bags slung over his shoulder. The two partners shared a bear hug.
"God – I - missed - you - Kid!" whispered Heyes haltingly into his partner's ear. Curry caught his breath, startled to hear his partner speak his nick name for the first time in so many months.
Aloud, knowing that they could be overheard by a man and woman nearby getting off the train, Joshua said, slowly, fighting for each word, particularly that long first one that he had practiced so carefully at the clinic, "Thaddeus, I am glad to see you! How's Christy's place?"
"Oh, Joshua, you are a sight for sore eyes! Or more like a sound for sore ears!" exclaimed the Kid. "Christy's is doing great. We've got two new people – things are so busy." Curry mentioned this, as he could see that Heyes understood instantly, because any new people could pose a danger to them both. Anyone who didn't know them well enough to be loyal in a pinch could easily betray them. Heyes would need to be especially careful.
But the re-united partners found far more enjoyable things to communicate even as Heyes struggled for spoken words.
Back at the saloon and hotel, Cat Christy was dusting the saloon's front room, even though every mote of dust was long gone. Thaddeus had left a little while ago to meet the train at the station. Soon he and his partner would be back. Cat felt nervous about meeting Heyes again, now that he had a voice. What would his voice sound like? The voice of a gang leader - of a bank robber - of a fugitive - of a nice young man - of a genius at math - of a clinic patient - of Joshua Smith - of Hannibal Heyes.
Then she heard two voices getting louder and coming closer; a very familiar tenor and a totally unfamiliar baritone. They were singing together loudly and raucously, almost as if they were drunk. "How dare they drink at someone else's establishment!" thought Cat. But no, of course they weren't drunk. There hadn't been time. They were just very happy. They were singing an old Civil War song that Cat guessed they must have sung together as boys. The two men sang in unison:
We look like men, we look like men, we look like men of war!
[Thaddeus's familiar tenor sang solo a series of notes up] I-in ar-my dress
[Then the unfamiliar baritone soloed the melody back down again] In un-i-form
[Then the two voices came back into unison as they arrived stamping the dust off their feet on the mat at the front door.] We look like men of war!
Then there were the two men coming in the door, arms over each other's shoulders, laughing, with enormous grins on their faces. Heyes was in his familiar navy shirt, embroidered vest, and soft brown pants and boots, with the battered black hat on his head and his gun on his hip. The wrinkles in his shirt, vest, and pants showed that these clothes had spent most of the past months folded up in his bag. He couldn't exactly go around New York City looking like a fugitive from a Wild West show. The piano player and bartender were quickly at the door, shaking Smith's hand while their returning friend said with painful deliberation, "Ted! Joe! Glad to see you!"
The normally laconic men were effusive in their praise of the formerly silent man's returning speech. “Hey, Joshua, why don’t you hold your tongue and let somebody else get in a word?” joked Ted the slender piano player.
“You can say as much as you please, Smith, and it won’t bother me,” said Joe with a broad smile and a wink.
Then Joshua turned to Cat.
He gazed into her eyes for a long moment smiling ever more broadly, his dimple deepening. Finally he said softly, one difficult word at a time, "Cat, it is good to see you and to be back . . . home! Thank you!" They shared a long, warm hug. As Cat saw Joshua's smile, a smile she had never seen before, and heard the throaty voice she had never heard before, she felt like she had never really met this man. She had come to know Heyes' pain very well, but as Jed had told her nine months before, she had no real acquaintance with the man himself. She threw her arms around a virtual stranger, who hugged her warmly back. Now perhaps, Cat hoped, the Hannibal Heyes that the Kid had told her so much about was on his way back.