The Hypocrisy Of Victorian Morals

Well last month's bunny collapsed from heat prostration and, although, the poor thing is reviving, it just won't fit this month's prompt.  But this oldie will -- so I'll post it in the meantime.

The… with a heart of gold


Prologue


As I joined the other girls heading into the bar for the night, I took a deep breath.  How had I reached this state, I wondered.  Me, a school teacher – probably the most respected profession for a woman in the west – fallen to the least respected profession.  But what can an unwed mother do – we have to eat after all, although I know there are those who think the world would be better off if we starved.  Even if I had made myself a widow, they still wouldn’t hire me to teach anywhere – mothers are supposed to stay home with their children.  But the world doesn’t always work that way.


I drew another deep breath.  It was lively out there.  Two different gangs were hoorahing the town tonight, I’d heard.  That frightened some of the girls; those outlaws can get too rambunctious.  I, on the other hand, preferred these nights.  Whatever the indignities offered, outlaws hoorahing tended to be free with their money.  Maybe someday, enough hoorahs would let me send Johnny away, where he wouldn’t be shamed by me.


I stepped out with the other girls as a cheer went up in the room.  I looked at the men hooting and calling to us, the usual riff raff.  But, then I saw them, two men, discrete from the rest.  Something about them pulled me towards them emotionally, in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time.  I had eyes for no one but those two.  The blond looked over and saw me walking towards them.  He said a quick word to his dark companion, then smiled and walked towards me.


When we met in the middle of the room, I knew the night would be good.  As to what happened… Well I can be discreet.


Forgiven, Montana


The sun shone down on Forgiven, Montana.  The sky was blue with only a few wispy clouds and a slight breeze kept the day cool.  Heyes and the Kid strolled amiably down the sidewalk, tipping their hats and smiling at passersby.


“You know, Kid, life is good.”


“Sure is.  We have money in our pocket, a quiet town where no one knows us.  What could be better?”


Suddenly, a golden-haired woman erupted from the millinery shop they were passing and hugged the Kid fiercely.


“It’s so good to see you again,” she exclaimed loudly.


The Kid rooted in place and Heyes stared, his eyebrows raised as he watched, a rueful grin on his face.


“Quick, which of you is Thaddeus Jones?” the woman whispered as she continued to hug the Kid.


“Uh, um, I am.”


“Oh, Thaddeus, it’s been so long since I last saw you.  You, too, Mr. Smith,” the woman exclaimed, once again raising her voice several decibels.


She released the Kid from her hold but tugged on his arm, whispering again “Come in, come in.  We only have a few seconds.”


She pulled the Kid into the shop.  The Kid looked over his shoulder at Heyes as he was tugged along.  Heyes shook his head and followed, closing the door behind them as they entered the shop.


The woman released the Kid.  “I’m so sorry, but I haven’t time to explain.  They’re waiting to ambush you at the next alley. They’ll come looking any second.  Just remember, I’m Alice, Alice Jones, your widowed sister-in-law.  My son is Johnny, Johnny Jones.  He’s seven and the last time you saw him was at my husband’s funeral five years ago.  We’re all from Little Rock, and John and I moved to Wyoming to farm before he died.”


“Ma’am…” Heyes began, but before he could finish the door was flung open by three men brandishing guns.


“Hands up you two!  Get their guns, Sol.  The blond first; that one’s Kid Curry.”


Heyes and the Kid looked at each other and resignedly raised their hands.  Sol reached over carefully and relieved them of their weapons.


Alice Jones exclaimed, “Hank!  Sol!  Jim! What are you doing?  This is my brother-in-law, Thaddeus Jones.  He’s John’s younger brother.  That’s his partner, Joshua Smith.”


Heyes spoke up.  “I know we must resemble those two despicable outlaws, but, like she said, I’m Joshua Smith and he’s Thaddeus Jones.  Lots of folks can vouch for us.  Alice here, Sheriff Lom Trevors in Wyoming…”


Hank looked at the two men with him doubtfully.  Jim’s face reddened.  “I tell you that’s Hannibal Heyes, and the other one is Kid Curry.  I rode in a posse after them seven years ago.  I saw them; I can’t be mistaken,” he stated stubbornly


“Look, we’ve had this problem before.  Every time we’ve been cleared, but it takes a long time.  I’m telling you, I’m Joshua Smith and he’s Thaddeus Jones.  We were just coming by to see how Alice here was doing and to give her Thaddeus’ news.  We’re on our way back to Little Rock.  Thaddeus here is getting married…”


“Do you always talk so much?”


“He does,” the Kid confirmed, lowering his arms and smiling brightly at their captors.


Before anyone could speak again, the door burst open and a young, blond, blue-eyed dynamo burst in.  “Mom, mom!” he shouted, dropping his book bag.  He stopped suddenly and hastened to his mother’s side, staring wide-eyed at the men standing before her.


“Johnny,” she cried, stooping to hug him.  “Johnny, your Uncle Thaddeus came to say hello.  You won’t remember him, but you met him at your father’s funeral.  Say hello.”


Johnny stared at the Kid.  “Hello,” he said shyly.  “Are you my father’s brother? I don’t remember him either.”


The Kid shrugged uncomfortably.  “I am.  Your father was a good man.  We miss him.”


“Yeah,” Johnny sighed.


Their captors watched this interchange then looked back and forth at each other and at Heyes and the Kid.


“Johnny, you look just like your father,” Heyes contributed.


“Yeah, that’s what my mom says.  Mom, mom, I’m gonna go to Frankie’s, okay?”
Alice smiled and gave him a hug, which he shrugged off, embarrassed.  “That’s fine, Johnny.  I’ll come get you when I close the shop and we can have a special supper tonight.”


Johnny smiled and headed out the door.  He stopped and came back, holding out his hand to the Kid.  “Pleased to meet you, sir.  Will you be staying long?”


The Kid smiled.  “No, we have to be headin’ to Little Rock.  I’m gettin’ married,” he added dryly.


The adults watched Johnny race back out the door.


Hank, Sol, and Jim stared at each other.  Jim shrugged, his brow furrowing.  “I could’ve sworn they were Heyes and Curry.”


“Just how well did you see them on that posse, Jim?”


“We got within a few hundred yards, I guess.  I thought I got a good look, but now… Well, now I just don’t know.”


Hank pondered for a few minutes.


“Alice, how long have you known these two?”


“Hank Smathers, I told you, Thaddeus here is my brother-in-law.  I’ve known him for more than ten years.  He’s no more Kid Curry than you are Billy-the-Kid.  And I’ve met Mr. Smith here several times as well.”  Alice stood hands on her hips, glaring at Hank and his companions.


Hank pursed his lips and pondered some more.  Finally, “Sorry, gentlemen.  You understand, I hope.  No offense meant.”


“None taken,” Heyes assured them.  The Kid smiled and reached to take back his gun, settling it in its holster and then handing Heyes his.


Heyes, the Kid, and Alice watched the men leave.


As the door shut behind them and they watched the men turn down the sidewalk, Heyes and the Kid let out a big breath and their backs relaxed.


As one they turned back to Alice, puzzlement now showing in their faces.


“Ma’am, Mrs. Jones, thank you,” Heyes started.  “I have no idea why you did that, but we surely do appreciate it.”


“Yes, thank you, ma’am,” the Kid echoed.


Alice smiled at them.  “You don’t remember me.”


Heyes and the Kid looked blankly at each other.  “Uh, no, ma’am,” the Kid admitted.


“I wouldn’t expect you to.  My name wasn’t Jones back then, and I wasn’t a widow.”  She sighed and looked at them her chin lifting slightly.  “It still isn’t Jones, and I’m still not a widow.  I never was married.”


Heyes and the Kid exchanged uncomfortable glances.  “Uh, ma’am, miss?”


“I met you when you were hoorahing a town a few years ago.”  She blushed.  “I spent several hours with you that night, Mr. Curry.”


She watched the implication of what she had said sink in, and nodded.  “Yes, I worked the line in those days.”  She stopped smiling.  “No one here knows about that.  They think I’m a respectable widow.”  She glared at them.


“You don’t need to worry, we won’t be tellin’ anyone anythin’ different,” the Kid assured her.  He paused, his eyes widened and he turned and looked out the door, then frowned and turned back to her.  “Your son, Johnny…”


“Yeah, there is a resemblance…,” Heyes confirmed slowly.


Alice looked at the two of them puzzled.  Suddenly she laughed.  “No, no.  Johnny’s not yours.”  She looked embarrassed.  “Of course, his father’s not John Jones either. I made him up, along with the farm and the funeral.  It helps that in my old line of work you learn to lie convincingly.  Johnny’s too young to remember his life before we came here, which makes this easier.” 


“Ma’am?”


She sighed, folding and refolding pleats in her skirt.  “I really was a respectable woman once – a school teacher, if you can believe that.  I was young, foolish, and alone.  I made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong man.  When I told him I was with child, he not only refused to marry me, but he refused to acknowledge that Johnny was his.  Turns out he was married.  His wife was still back east, but she was coming out to join him.  So, I had become an inconvenience.”  She paused and gulped, before resuming her tale.  “I was ruined but didn’t have enough money to get very far, just to the next town.”  She turned away from them and paced slowly as she spoke.


Heyes and the Kid made indeterminate sounds, which she ignored, caught up in her tale.


“Well, I grew up fast.  I had to provide for Johnny and me, so I did what I had to do.  One day, the Devil’s Hole Gang hoorahed in our town, in my gaming house.”
She turned back and looked at them, tears in her eyes.  “You have no idea what despair I was in by then.  The only thing that kept me going was Johnny.  It was bad enough that he would grow up the son of a fallen woman, I couldn’t let him grow up an orphan, could I?”


Heyes and the Kid looked at each other then away.  Finally, the Kid spoke gently.  “No, Alice.  No one should grow up an orphan.”


She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.  “Anyway, as I said the Devil’s Hole Gang hoorahed us.  That’s when I met you, both of you.”


“Both of us?” Heyes asked, eyebrows raised.


“Yes, although I never spoke to you, Mr. Heyes.”


“You spent some time with me, Mr. Curry.”  She flushed and looked away again. 
 “Paid me very well, too, better than I had hoped.  Then, as you were getting dressed, the door to the wardrobe fell open and exposed Johnny sleeping in his basket on the floor.”


She turned back and smiled at the Kid, who looked back at her uncomfortably.  “Well, you saw that and turned back and gave me ten dollars more, told me to buy some things for my boy.”


Heyes and the Kid looked at each other, uncertain what to say.  


“You treated me with dignity and kindness, Mr. Curry – something that hadn’t happened in a long time.  It gave me hope.  It heartened me, and that very night I began to save money and to plan.  It took more than a year, but finally I had enough money, and we moved.  Moved here to where no one knew us, where I could be a widow with a little boy.  The name of this town seemed to be a good omen.  I was able to start this shop…  I never thought I’d see you again.”


She smiled ruefully at them, “Actually, I hoped I’d never see any of my customers again.  But when I heard those men talking about ambushing a Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones because they were really Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry…  Well, I just had to do something.”


Heyes and the Kid looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes.  


Heyes took a deep breath.  “Well, we’re grateful you did come forward, Alice, and we wish you the best of luck.  We have to be going before those men reconsider…  Kid, you coming?”


“Uh, yeah, comin’.”  The Kid turned to follow Heyes who was hustling out the front door, then paused and turned back.  “Alice…  Alice, I’m glad we met, and I understand that you never want to see me again.  I’ll try to make sure that happens.”  He smiled briefly before  walking out to join Heyes.


Alice watched them leave then turned, walked behind the counter, sat deliberately, and dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.


~~~000~~~


Heyes was uncharacteristically quiet as they checked out of the hotel, saddled the horses, and headed out of town.  The Kid kept looking at him, opening his mouth, then closing it and shaking his head without saying anything.


After riding for an hour the Kid finally had had enough.  “Heyes, what?”


“What do you mean, what?”


“You ain’t been quiet this long since you got sick at the Hole that time and lost your voice.  If you got somethin’ to say, just say it.”


Heyes looked over at him for some time, finally his eyes lit and a smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.  “I was just wondering, Kid.”


The Kid looked at him warily.  “Yeah, about what?”


“I've learned the secret to your success.  So, tell me, just how much do you have to pay to get women to spend time with you?”  Heyes spurred his horse and rode ahead laughing.


The Kid growled and raced after him.

Hannibal felt uneasy, stepping out onto the wharf that would take them to the tourist craft awaiting their arrival. He had been on boats before, but they had all been larger ferries or the floating hotels of the paddle wheel variety. As a child, he and Jed had sometimes gone out with Yannack and his father, but those days were long gone, and he'd lost his youthful sea legs ages ago. The wharfs he was accustomed to now were solid structures that didn't float and flutter with every lapping wave that splashed against it.


This undulating walkway took some getting used to. Being balanced and nimble on solid ground as well as on horseback was one thing, but this constantly shifting deck took all of his focus to navigate with any form of grace or dignity. Miranda watched him while trying to hide her smile. She was just as unaccustomed to moving pathways as he was, but for some reason she seemed better able to navigate the pitfalls.


By the time they had walked the distance to where the boat awaited them, Hannibal was beginning to feel his balance adjusting to the shifting circumstances. Their craft, the Caballito de Mar, was a 12-foot-long steamboat that was open from bow to stern, and though tricky for a landlubber to navigate boarding her, once that feat was accomplished, she was a comfortable and reliable craft. There were benches positioned all around the inner deck, surrounding a six by two-foot glass bottom, that would give all the passengers a stunning view of the underwater life that thrived in the warm waters off the Santa Marta coast.


Hannibal and Miranda both sat down with sighs of relief at having achieved their goal without incident. They smiled at one another and held hands.


“This is exciting,” Miranda commented. “I've never done anything like this before. And such a beautiful day. I hope the water is clear further out. It seems rather murky here. I do so want to see what's out there.”


“Si, Senora,” one of the two crew members answered her. “El aqua, ah, the water. She is always oscuro here. You see, we get out there,” and he waved his arm to indicate the large bay, “and the water, she be claro como el cristal.”


“Thank you,” she told him. “This is going to be fun.”


“Si.”


Miranda's smile intensified, and her eyes were so full of excitement and anticipation that Hannibal couldn't help but laugh out loud. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he was finding his own heart beating a little faster as the two Mexicans hurried back and forth along the length of the vessel in preparation of departure.


“Come along Elspeth,” a large man dressed in a suit and tie was encouraging his wife in her efforts to stumble over to the waiting craft. “We don't want to miss the dang thing, now that we're this close to it.”


Elspeth, who was just as thin and tight as her husband was rotund, did share with him the one aspect of being overdressed for the occasion. Her narrow skirted dress and high heeled, latched up boots were hardly appropriate attire for an outing on the ocean.


“I am coming, Freddie!” she exclaimed. “My heels keep getting hung up in the spaces between the boards. You would think that these people could at least build a decent wharf! Oh! Oh my!”


This exclamation came as the result of one of those heels slipping in between the boards and becoming thoroughly stuck. Elspeth's arms flailed out in front of her as she dropped her parasol and clattered ungracefully to her backside.


“Oh oh,” Hannibal commented with a smile, but was still quick to jump up and come to the lady's assistance.


Having quickly regained his natural grace and agility, Heyes stepped through the open half door in the hull of the boat and was on the wharf in an instant. Freddie had returned to his wife, and having taken hold of one of her arms, was trying to haul the poor woman to her feet.


“Wait, wait,” Heyes told him, as he knelt down beside Elspeth. “She's stuck.”


“That much is apparent, young man!” Elspeth snapped at him as she rolled herself over from her knees and onto her butt. “Kindly get me unstuck!”


“Yes ma'am.” Heyes sent her a reassuring smile, then frowned as he surveyed the trapped boot heel. He would have to take hold of her ankle in order to get the boot freed. “Umm...?” he enquired, and indicated the entrapped foot. “Do you mind?”


“No, no,” she waved him onwards. “Just do it.”


“Perhaps I should...” Freddie harrumphed, his sense of decency being threatened by this young man laying hands upon his wife's person.


But before his indignation could truly take hold, Heyes had given the ankle a slight twist and then a sharp tug. The heel came free, and despite a few miniscule scrapes from the wood, was none the worse for wear.


“Thank goodness!” Elspeth exclaimed. “I feared I would be stuck there all afternoon!”


“I hardly think your husband would have permitted that, ma'am,” Heyes assured her as he and Freddie helped her back to her feet. “It was a simple matter to free it up.”


“Yes, my dear,” Freddie took over, using his bulk to pressure Heyes away. “It was easy enough to deal with. Now let's get you on board.”


Heyes allowed himself to be backed off, but stepping back onto the boat, he turned to offer assistance again, just in case the obstacle proved too much for Freddie to deal with.


“Oh my,” Elspeth complained as she eyed the step across open water. “I'm not sure this is a wise idea. What if I fall through?”


“You won't fall through, my dear,” Freddie assured her, with a touch of impatience. It's a simple step across and then down into the boat. Come, come. Just do it.”


“Oh...”


Heyes smiled and offered his hand to the lady. Elspeth grasped it, and hung on so tightly, the ex-outlaw was almost brought to tears. He was brave though, and wouldn't allow the pain to show.


“There you go,” Heyes assured her. “Just step across. We've got you.”


Elspeth took a deep breath and made the leap of twelve inches. As is so often the case when one overcompensates, the lady put too much oomph into her approach and ended up in Heyes' arms, with him having to take a quick step backwards to avoid being bowled over.


“Oh my,” she flustered. “I'm so sorry.”


“That's quite alright,” Heyes assured her and flashed his dimples.


Her eyes drifted up to meet his, and her knees went weak with the contact. 'How unfair it was for a man to have such beautiful eyes.' she thought as the soft sea breeze played seductively with her hair, and the birds on wing cried out their playful song as they dove and circled, looking for tidbits. The smell of the ocean was strong in her nostrils, and her senses disappeared into remembered romantic stories of dashing pirates stealing away the damsel in distress. Time slowed down, and the blinking of those lovely dark lashes took an eternity as the lady felt herself swooning. She was lost in those eyes. They were like warm chocolate, with just the right hint of mischief to lure a lady to sink into their depth, no matter what her age.


“Elspeth!” Freddie pulled his wife away. “Leave the man alone. He has better things to do than doddle over some silly old hen.”


“Oh yes,” she smiled at her rescuer, suddenly aware of how tight the collar of her dress had become “I do apologize.”


“That's quite alright,” Heyes assured her.


The three people settled onto the benches and introductions began.


“I must say, ah...Senor,” Elspeth began. “that you speak wonderful English for a Mexican.”


“Oh, we're not Mexican,” Heyes corrected her. “We're Americans, like yourself. My name is Han and this is my wife, Miranda.”


“A pleasure to meet you,” Miranda greeted them. “We're here on...”


“You're not a Mexican?” Freddie asked.


“Ah, no.” Heyes was slightly taken aback by the rudeness shown to his wife. He was beginning to regret assisting these people at all.


“Oh dear,” Elspeth sputtered and began to fan herself with her overly large sun hat. “I assumed by your clothing...”


“Didn't take you long to go native, did it?” Freddie harrumphed.


“Aren't the colors beautiful?” Miranda stepped in, choosing to take the high road. “And the material is so light and comfortable. Just perfect for an outing such as this.”


The older couple sat, and with arched brows, scrutinized the pair sitting across from them. At first glance, they might have appeared, from a distance, to be light-skinned Mexicans. Both had the dark hair and eyes, and both had exchanged their heavier 'western' clothing for that of the more breathable cotton worn by the locals. They had even set aside their restricting boots and shoes, for the more comfortable sandals to complete their casual attire.


Still, upon closer acquaintanceship, it should have been obvious that neither Hannibal, nor his wife were indigenous to Mexico. They smiled back at the laced up and restricted couple, with their inappropriate footwear, and waited for an acknowledgement of Miranda's comment.


The strained silence might have lasted throughout the whole venture if not for the timely arrival of one more couple, hurrying to make it to the boat on time. Indeed, they had cut it close. One of the crew was busy coaxing the small steam engine into action, while the other was getting ready to cast off the ropes just as the newcomers put in a boisterous appearance.


“We made it!” the young woman exclaimed as she and her man jumped on board.


“I told you we would, if we made a run for it,” her escort teased. “Just in the nick of time too.”


The newest arrivals sat down and worked at catching their breath after the mad dash along the wharf. Heyes and Miranda both grinned at their enthusiasm and Heyes leaned forward to offer his hand.


“Hello,” he said. “I'm Han and this is my wife, Miranda.”


The young man grasped his hand and grinned even more.


“Hello,” he greeted back. “I'm Paul. This is my wife, Connie.”


“Hello,” Miranda greeted them, instantly liking their youthful excitement for the adventure ahead.


Heyes nodded to Paul and then his wife, from whom he quickly averted his eyes. She was very pretty, with the light blonde hair and blue eyes that often accompanies the peaches and cream complexion that so many men find attractive. But it was not her physical beauty that had caused Heyes discomfort, but her coloring. Looking into those blue eyes, he had instantly been reminded of Amy.


It was like a knife going through his heart. Not because of any love lost, but because of the pain that that woman had brought into their lives. He had been taken by surprise by these emotions and he'd had to look away from her to be able to compose himself. Other than her coloring, this young woman was nothing like Amy, and Heyes resolved himself to refrain from the comparison.


Fortunately, his indiscretion was covered up by the continuation of introductions as Paul and Connie turned their attentions to the other couple on board.


“Hello sir,” Paul greeted Freddie with respect and extended his hand. “I'm Paul and this is my wife, Connie.”


“Humph,” Freddie clasped the hand and gave it a hearty shake. “Hello young man. I'm Mr. Carmichael, and this is my wife, Mrs. Carmichael.”


The young couple's enthusiasm waned a touch at the formal introduction, but they accepted it, and nodded their hellos.


The boat gave a slight jerk, accompanied by a little squeak from Elspeth, and with the little engine chugging away, the excursion headed away from the dock and out towards deeper water.

Posting this now as I'm driving hubby mad fiddling with it! The fuller version will be on my thread at end of month with more detail of the story Heyes heard.







Kid Curry picked up the book from the desk of Hannibal Heyes and looked at the title in surprise. He pursed his lips and opened it at the front to read the synopsis. Having read he grunted, pulled a face and dropped it back on the desk.


“Ah! Ya found it,” said Hannibal Heyes, holding the door open.


Kid Curry gave him the look and grunted. The fingertips of his left hand tucked into the waistcoat pocket of his expensively tailored bespoke suit.


“Who is this Nial H Benshaye fella?”


A smug grin appeared on the face of Hannibal Heyes as he crossed the room to stand on the other side of the desk. He too was dressed in a suit, although not as expensive looking as the Kid’s suit. He stood hands on hips and chuckled.


“Can’t ya guess?”


The Kid picked up the book again and sniffed. He read, “The Hypocrisy of Victorian Morals”. He grunted.

“Sounds like one of those European phi-los-o-fers to me,” he muttered. “Writing a load of mumbo jumbo nobody normal, understands.”


Heyes chuckled again and teased the book from the Kid’s hands. “Nial H Benshaye is a nom de plume!”


“What’s one of them?”


“Kinda like an alias.”


The Kid sniffed. “Not surprised this Nial H Benshaye wants to keep his identify a secret if he goes ‘round writtin’ stuff like this.”


“Now Kid, ya haven’t read it. Ya can’t make a judgement call like that when ya don’t know what this is about.”

Heyes waved the book at him.


“I reckon I can. Ya read it?”


Heyes smiled knowingly. “Sorta. Come over an’ I’ll tell ya all about it.”


Heyes turned and made his way over to the two comfortable looking red leather wingback armchairs in front of the fireplace. He looked back when the Kid didn’t follow him.


“C’mon. It ain’t what ya think.” Heyes reached down and took the stopper off a lead crystal decanter. “I’ll pour us a couple of drinks an’ we’ll get settled for the evening. We get to spend some time alone, catching up, jus’ the two of us. How often do we get the chance to do that these days?”


Suspiciously, the Kid walked round the side of the desk and made his way over. “Not often that’s for sure. What with you here in Porterville and me in Boston. So why’d ya want to spend it telling me about that dang book?”


“’Cos you’re in it!” Heyes settled himself in a chair, crossing one leg over the other and raising a glass to his lips. He smiled knowingly again as he looked round.


“I’m in it?” The Kid came over.


“Yep.” Heyes watched the Kid heading for the other chair.


“What d’ya mean I’m in it?” the Kid demanded, flopping down irritably.


Heyes sniffed, narrowed his eyes and looked at the ceiling.


“The story begins ‘bout thirty years ago. Kid Curry rides into town …”


“Do I have a chiselled jaw?”


Heyes hesitated, wondering what he meant. The Kid was a picture of innocence as he stroked said jaw, now relaxed into middle age, and Heyes caught on.


“No,” he said, firmly and turned back to the book.


“Eyes the colour of blue ice?” Eyes now softened by laughter creases.


“No.”


“Steely blue?” Eyes now widened in amusement.


“No!” Heyes was louder with each no. He cleared his throat to begin again.


“Do I have blond curly hair the colour of summer corn?” Hair still with a hint of a curl but now with varying shades of grey.


Heyes leant his head back and closed his eyes in despair.


“This ain’t a dime novel, Kid. It’s a serious book,” Heyes said, wearily.


The Kid received the look and he chuckled. Then he was serious, motioning for Heyes to start.


Through gritted teeth, Heyes continued. “Kid Curry rode into town to meet up with his partner. They had separated to take on different jobs and had agreed to meet up here in the town of Moncrieff.”


“So he let that other fella go off on his own?”


“Yes. That OTHER fella can take care of himself,” Heyes said, firmly.


A grunt of disbelief from the Kid and the look received again.


“The Kid’s first stop was the saloon. Three days of eating trail dust had stirred up a powerful thirst. With luck, he might find his partner there. Before he could stop …”


“See. I told ya. That other fella’s in trouble.” The Kid shook his head in resignation.


“He ain’t in trouble! He’s jus’ not THERE!” Heyes grunted. “Yet!” He cleared his throat again. “An’ this ain’t a story about HIM, it’s about YOU!”


The Kid grinned in pleasure. “Oh well in that case carry on. I might like this after all.”


The Kid settled back and laced his fingers over his stomach.


“Before he could stop, a young woman ran into the street in front of him, causing his horse to shy away. As he brought his horse under control, she grabbed the reins.


“Please sir you have to help me!” she begged. “Please say you will.”


Heyes glanced over at the Kid and smiled mischievously. “Our hero, Kid Curry, immediately leaped to the fair damsel’s assistance …”


“It don’t really say that? Do it?” the Kid was incredulous.


“Naw! I made it up.” Heyes said followed by his deep rich chortle.


The Kid rolled his eyes and growled.


Still smirking Heyes turned back to the book. “It says: the Kid could see by the look on her face just how terrified and desperate the woman was.”


“Ma’am?” he frowned, bringing his horse under control and patting its neck reassuringly.


“Please sir! You must help me!”


“Alright ma’am. I’ll help ya if I can,” the Kid said, calmly and dismounted. He lead his horse over to the nearest hitching rail and tied off. “How can I be of assistance ma’am?”


Real life Kid tutted. “I wouldn’t of said it like that,”


Heyes looked across, his eyes wide.


The Kid twitched his head. “Awh! I might I guess,” he conceded.


With a smile, Heyes turned back to the book. “It’s my sister and cousin. They’re being held against their will. I need to get them away. Please, oh please come with me sir!”


Heyes stopped and looked over at the Kid. “Instead of jus’ readin’ this, I can do the voices as well if ya like?” he said, eagerly.


“Jus’ read it Heyes!” the Kid growled. “Ya obviously gotta reason. Jus’ get on with it.”


With a nod, Heyes got on with it.


“She took hold of his arm and tried to pull him.


“Whoa! Ma’am. Who’s holdin’ ‘em? Ain’t ya been to the sheriff?”


“My father and brother and I can’t go to the sheriff.” She started to sob. “Most folks in town won’t believe me and daren’t get involved. I just thought as you were a stranger …” She dissolved into uncontrollable weeping.


The Kid hesitated. He held her upper arms and shook her gently. “Hey, ma’am, now don’t take on so.”


Real life Kid shifted uneasily in his chair. “I would NOT of said that! Don’t take on so! What sorta language is that?”


Heyes grinned. “I think they call it creative license.”


The Kid looked at him doubtfully. “Still not sure I woulda said it,” he mumbled and motioned for Heyes to continue.


“What’s ya name ma’am?”


“Emily Blondell,” she sobbed.


“Blondell? I heard of a fella by the name of Blondell*. Banker over at Touchrock*.”


She nodded. “Yes Henry Blondell, my uncle. My father Ewan is his younger brother.” She looked at the Kid in horror. “Do you know Uncle Henry well?”


“No ma’am. Me an’ my partner were able to clear something up for him a while or two ago.” The Kid hesitated.

“He seemed a right upstandin’ man, a deacon in the Baptist church I believe.”


Emily went off into fresh floods of tears. “But that’s jus’ the problem,” she wailed. “Father’s on the church committee here. The Board of Bank Trustees. The Town Council. This town might as well be called Blondell
Town. He practically runs it.”


“It ain’t is it?” real life Kid, queried.


“Nope.”


“Blondell City?”


“NO! Quit interrupting. There’s a little more before ya er …” Heyes smacked his lips to hide a smirk. “Swing into action,” he mumbled.


“Then what’s the problem, ma’am?” the Kid, asked, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt.


Emily looked up and down the street. There was nobody on the street close to them. She caught him by the arm and led him into an alleyway nonetheless.


“Father gives the impression of respectability but he’s keeping my sister and me and now my cousin, hostage in the house. He makes us do all the cooking, cleaning, fetching and carrying. While he and my brother just lord it up. They treat us like servants. We’re not allowed out socially. We can’t have friends over. Ha! Not that we’ve got any friends! The only time we go out is to church. Then, we’re not allowed to speak to anyone, apart from exchanging the pleasantries. It can’t go on, Mr … Mr…?”


“Jones. Thaddeus Jones.”


“It can’t go on, Mr Jones. He beats us if we do the slightest thing that isn’t to his satisfaction. Sarah, my sister, is of a delicate constitution and I’m afraid that if he beats her again … well I’m really afraid …,” More sobbing.

“That he’ll kill her.”


The Kid stiffened when he heard that. There was one thing he couldn’t abide. Men abusing women.


“This ain’t true is it, Heyes?” The Kid was hard, entirely in keeping with the legendary gunman of old.


“No it’s all made-y up-y.” Heyes hesitated. “Although … .” He sighed. “I’ll carry on for now,” he growled.


“Ma’am, I really think ya oughta go to the sheriff …”


“I thought I explained. I can’t. He WON’T do anything. Not against Father. Here, Mr Jones, look at this.” She fumbled with the buttons of her bodice.


The Kid looked horrified. “No really ma’am …”


Before he could protest anymore, she was wriggling her arms out of her bodice and lowering it. She turned her back and showed him.


Even for the hardened gunman the sight he saw chilled him to the bone. Her back above the top of her chemise was a mass of scarred, bloodied and bruised stripes.


“Ma’am I’m sure if …”


“No! Mr Jones, I can’t!” She spun round and looked at him imploringly. “I just need to get my sister and my cousin out of that house as soon as possible. I can’t wait for the sheriff to decide if he’ll do anything. It has to be
done NOW!”


“Alright! Alright, ma’am I’ll help ya!” The Kid held up his hands in surrender. When he saw she was calmer, he nodded. “That’s better. Now get yaself dressed. I don’t wanna be caught with ya looking like that.”


She nodded.


“How did ya get away?”


As she dressed, she told him. The Kid gentlemanly turned his back. “Father or Eric check that all the windows and doors are locked before they go to sleep and they keep the keys. I discovered they didn’t know about the window in the pantry. No reason to go in there. I managed to crawl out in the middle of the night. It was small and a struggle but I managed. But Sarah and Clara won’t fit through. Clara came to live with us only a few months ago. She’s Uncle Henry’s daughter. Her husband was murdered. In the bank, can you believe? Some crazy woman just marched in and shot him! Dead! There was a scandal and Uncle Henry thought it would be best if Clara wasn’t around so he sent her here.”


Still with his back turned, the Kid folded his arms. “Yes ma’am I heard about that,” he murmured. It would do no good right now to say anything further.


“You can turn round now. Thank you.”


When the Kid turned round, she was almost composed. The dabbing at the corners of her eyes the only thing that anything was amiss.


“So ya gotta plan? Apart from bustin’ ‘em out?”


Emily looked suitably embarrassed. “No. I hadn’t thought any further than asking for help. Can you think of something?” She looked at him eagerly.


The Kid hesitated. “I might but first we’d better get you outta town and somewhere safe. There’s an old cabin ‘bout two miles outta town. Saw it on my way in. Reckon ya’ll be safe there for a while. Can ya ride ma’am?”


She nodded. “But only side-saddle. Never astride. Father said it isn’t healthy for a young woman.”


The Kid took a step back and looked at her. “Well my horse is tired but ya don’t look as though there’s too much to ya so I reckon he can manage us both for a few miles.”


Emily gave him her first real smile. “Thank you, Mr Jones.”


“Thaddeus ma’am. It’s gonna get real cosy on that horse an’ I reckon we should be on first name terms.”


Real life Kid groaned. “Sheesh!”


“What?” Heyes demanded.


“Who writes this stuff? Now THAT is right outta a dime novel if ever I heard it!”


Heyes sniffed. “I think it’s called giving the public what they want.”


“How’s that?”


“The hero is supposed to be all gentlemanly and er … heroic.” The Kid looked doubtfully. “I’m telling ya Kid, that’s what sells novels these days.”


“Yeah but I never noticed ya writing cheesy stuff like that in your books an’ you ain’t done too bad.”


“That’s ‘cos I write about real folks,” Heyes said, tongue in cheek and cleared his throat. He flicked through a few pages. “Anyway I’ll skip ahead over the plottin’ an’ plannin’. All ya need to know is that ya managed quite well without that other fella’s help an’ advice.”


Heyes didn’t see the look. He just felt it.


“It was two days before the Kid had a plan he hoped would work. The plan involved a distraction. The Kid would contrive to fall off his horse outside the Blondell house. Emily would hide in the bushes opposite. The accident, timed to coincide with Eric the brother arriving home and opening the front door. While he is distracted helping the Kid up from the inconveniently placed muddy puddle, Emily scoots in unseen and looks for her sister and cousin. They are prepared for rescue and are ready to go.


Outside, the Kid hams it up, mud in the eye, possible broken ankle etc, etc, etc.  As soon as the girls leave the house he keeps Eric occupied for a little longer, and then whistles for his horse. A miraculous recovery!


“Heyes, that’s a terrible plan!”


“It was your plan!” Heyes said, indignantly.


“I wasn’t even there!”


“Yes ya were. It says so right here in this book.” Heyes false smiled at the Kid. “Let me read ya the ending.

You’re a gen-u-ine hero!”


“Emily was waiting around the corner with a wagon. Sarah sat up beside her and Clara in the back. All three grinned broadly, as he came in sight.


“Mr Jones! You were wonderful!”


“Let’s save the thanks ‘till we get back to the cabin. Probably best to put some distance between us and your family.”


“Yes of course. Didn’t I tell you he was wonderful? He thought this whole plan up all on his own.”


Real life Kid rolled his eyes.


Later, the Kid rode back into town. Sitting on the front porch of the hotel was his partner, Hannibal Heyes.


“Well it’s ‘bout time you showed up. I was expecting ya two days ago!”


Heyes tilted his head this way and that, taking in his partner’s mud splattered clothing. He took the cigar out of his mouth to say, “Looks like you er had an interesting two days, while ya were waiting.”


The look Heyes received should have frozen him solid.


“Don’t talk to me Heyes. Not until I’ve had me a hot bath, a decent meal and six or seven whiskies.”


Heyes shrugged and sucked on the cigar. “I’ll join ya for the meal an’ the six or seven whiskies.” He gave the Kid the full double dimple. “I like a good story while I eat.” He paused. “I reckon this’ll be a good ‘un, looking at the state of ya.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once the Kid had related the tale, Heyes realised the seriousness of the situation. He dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out some folded bills.


“How much money ya got Kid?”


“I got paid for my job so I reckon I gotta oh a hundred, mebbe a hun’red an’ thirty.”


Heyes growled. “Well keep the thirty. There’s two hundred. I reckon three hundred will be enough to get ‘em to Denver.”


“More’n enough. Why Denver?”


“’Cos I reckon Soapy owes us a favour for springin’ him from jail that time in Nevada. I’m calling it in. He can put ‘em up for a few days, introduce ‘em around, get ‘em settled. They need to get a fresh start and Denver is jus’ far enough away not to have heard about the Blondell family.”


The Kid smiled at Heyes. “You’re all heart Heyes.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heyes shut the book with a snap and looked across at the Kid, who sat silently for a moment.


“I know that was only a made up story but er how many other women do ya think don’t have a Kid Curry ridin’ to the rescue?”


The Kid was sombre and Heyes shook his head and sobered with him. “I dunno, Kid. I jus’ know it goes on an’ it shouldn’t be allowed to happen. The authorities need to do something about it an’ the only way they will is if public opinion puts enough pressure on ‘em.”


“Why did ya read me this, Heyes?”


“Well I was keen to know what ya thought. As you are in it.” Heyes looked down at the fingers. “But that ain’t the only reason.”


The Kid instantly picked up Heyes’ change of tone.


Heyes swallowed. He licked his lips, visibly composing himself. “A few months ago, I went to the Wyoming Mayor’s Convention, an’ I heard a real shocking story. I came home an’ kept looking round at folks an’ wondering. Folks I’ve known for years. Folks I’ve trusted my kids with. I suddenly felt suspicious of everybody. Ya never know what goes on behind closed doors do ya? Then I got to thinking was it going on in Porterville, right under my nose? Should I, as Mayor, know about it? Try an’ stop it? Investigate? Start poking into folk’s privacy?” He shook his head and frowned. “I didn’t sleep for days.” He started into space. “Mary made me tell her in the end. I didn’t want to tell her all the details of course but she wheedled it out.” He shook his head.
“Women are far stronger than us Kid, really they are.”


The Kid nodded.


“Mary reminded me that I’m also a writer. So …” Heyes sighed. “I decided the world needed to know ‘bout things like this. The story from the Convention was in confidence so I wrote a fictional account. Lightened it, left out loads of the horrific stuff … jus’ gently easing the reader in.”



The Kid widened his eyes. “You wrote this?”


Heyes looked embarrassed. “Yeah. In case ya ain’t figured it yet, Nial H Benshaye is me.”


He sighed and took up the book again, separating off part of it. “The Kid Curry story only accounts for the first third of the book. I figured if the reader was still with me after that then they might read a little more, so I wrote an essay. In a very neutral, matter of fact kinda way, didn’t go into any specific details, jus’ gradually winding the reader up to expect something shockin’ but makin’ ‘em wanna read on an’ not shut the book in horror. Weren’t easy Kid. Then I wrote the tale I’d heard, anonymously, in all its gory detail. If the reader makes it to the end then I reckon I’ve opened a few eyes.” He paused and looked at the Kid. “What d’ya reckon?”


The Kid took a while to say anything. He went through numerous facial expressions and several puffs before he said, “Why use a different name?”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two weeks later at the offices of the Crime Writers Journal, Boston, Heyes interviews for a forthcoming article and we are listening to a recording.


“So turning now to your new book “The Hypocrisy of Victorian Morals”, this is quite a departure from the genre we normally expect from you. You’ve used a nom de plume as well. What is the reasoning behind that?”


“Readers know what to expect when they pick up a Hannibal Heyes book. This ain’t a mystery or a thriller, in my usual style so I thought it deserved a different name.” There is a distinctive Hannibal Heyes laugh. “Except of course Nial H Benshaye IS an anagram of Hannibal Heyes. An’ I’m making no secret that’s it’s really me. I jus’ wanted the reader to expect something a little different that’s all.”


“And could that reason also be that this book may prove to be controversial?”


“Well yes I’ve every reason to hope it will be. Y’know we’re eight years into a brand new century and there are new ways of thinking all around us. It’s about time that some of the things, once considered social norms are now discussed openly. As a society, we shouldn’t tolerate this behaviour anymore and … I think … we should try an’ expose it wherever we find it. I’m hoping my book can shine a small spotlight and ultimately do some good.”


“So you see this book more as a social commentary?”


“Yeah I suppose so. That really wasn’t my first intention but as I got more an’ more into it, I guess that’s what it became. But there’s still a few mysteries to solve and certainly, in the first part everybody lives happily ever after. That part is jus’ a short story.” There was a chuckle. “But I hope the rest is a little more thought provoking. Although I’m aware that not everyone will agree with me. I’m prepared for criticism.”


“So what was the motivation?”


There was pause and then we hear a sigh.


“I was told a story a while back. ‘Cept it wasn’t a story. It left such a powerful impression on me that I felt compelled to put pen to paper and tell it. But I needed to do it in a way that keep the reader, reading so … hooking ‘em with the Kid Curry story first seemed an appropriate way to do it.”


“Kid Curry is the hero of the first part and it is written very much in the style of a dime novel. You haven’t written about your old partner for years. Why bring him back now for this?”


“Although that part of the book is fictional, it was just the kinda thing I could see him involving himself with. I wanted to tell the story an’ I didn’t wanna waste time developing a character from scratch. I knew exactly what the Kid would say an’ do in any given situation so it helped me concentrate on jus’ telling the story. That’s jus’ a story. It’s the rest that’s true.”


“Well, I’ve no doubt “The Hypocrisy of Victorian Morals” will receive an interesting reception when it’s released.”


“I hope so too. I’m looking forward to it.”


There was a pause. “Is there a new Hannibal Heyes book in the pipeline?”


We hear a laugh. “Yeah it’s comin’ along. It’s gonna be called “The Blindfolded Man”. But I am NOT gonna say anymore. You’re jus’ gonna havta wait an’ see.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

*Blondell and Touchrock is referring to Blodgett, the bank president of Touchstone. In Heyes’ autobiographic novels, (alluded to) he always changes the names slightly to ones that sound similar.

A/N--This is from a character that originated in Chapter 12 of 'Thrown For A Loop' if you want to read the original text that inspired this. I don't think you would have to read the whole story to understand this particular character's actions, you could just look at that chapter. It just happened one day, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Again, it's nuts.. I'm sorry 

oooooasjoooo

The Journal

October 13th, 1883
Dear Diary,

Today was wonderful! I'm STILL excited over it! I'm tired, but I can't sleep for thinking about it!

It started out very boring, like almost every other day in this town. I fixed myself my usual four eggs and toast then left for work. On the way to the library, I picked up the latest paper to read. I know the library has books, but I've already read most of them, especially the dime novels. I love the dime novels! Why can't I ever have any adventures like those outlaws and sheriffs get to have? Oh well, I just enjoy reading about outlaws. I would love to have an outlaw for a boyfriend! A nice one. That would make me sooo happy! My nice, bad boy outlaw boyfriend. He could rob a bank and we could take all the money and live a life of luxury. Oh well, enough wishing for now. Seems the only way I can get a man is to come on to them myself. They all seem to run away from me. I wonder if it's my height that scares them away? I can't help that I'm six foot three. My cat just killed a mouse.

Anyway, I opened up the building, went in, checked everything like I do everyday, then sat myself down at the desk. That desk is little. I think I wrote that about the desk on some day last week, but I can't remember if I did or not so I wrote it again. I'm too tired to go back and check.

It was getting to be about time for lunch when HE walked into the library. Oh my gosh, was he the most handsome thing I've ever laid my eyes on! He had dark hair pushed up in under a black hat, brown eyes that looked like they just oozed mischief, and when he came over to the desk and smiled at me, my knees went weak. He had the cutest dimples! He said his name was Joshua Smith. 'Judy and Joshua Smith',... sounds like a good match to me! I decided right then, I had to have this man.

I don't remember exactly what he asked me. I was lost looking into those dark chocolate eyes. Whatever the question was, I must've answered because he turned to walk off. I grabbed him by the shoulder and told him I'd help him any way I could. Then I let go and he walked to the back shelf. And what a walk! I could watch that backside all day, even if it was partly covered by a jacket!

He found his books and sat down with his back to me at one of the tables. I held my paper up like I was reading, but I was really just watching him. He seemed to be searching for something in the book he had, so I walked up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulder again. I must've scared him because he jumped like he'd been shot.
I asked him if he was finding what he wanted. I had certainly found what I wanted! I looked down at him sitting in that chair and it was all I could do not to attack him right then and there. He said he was fine, (and he certainly was), so I went back to the desk.

He read for a little bit, then put the books back and looked at another for a minute or two, then he started to leave. But I couldn't just let him leave. You don't see men like him everyday. So I hurried over and blocked the door. It was so cute, the way his head just barely came above my shoulders! I asked him was he leaving so soon and he said he had found what he was looking for and had to go. Well, I told him I'D found what I was looking for too. I actually made him blush! It was adorable!

He said he had to get back to Destiny Loop to his partner. I grabbed him by the arm and asked if his partner was a woman. He said no, but he had to meet his partner at a certain time and didn't want him him to worry. No! He can't leave yet! So I put my other hand on his shoulder and was firmly holding him in place. I suggested he send his friend a telegraph telling him he'd be late, but he told me the lines to Destiny Loop were down.

All of a sudden, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to kiss those lips. I jerked him forward and gave him the best kiss of his life. He started playing hard to get, struggling to lean back from me. That just made me want him more.

I finally released him and he stepped back. He said something and then I grabbed the lapels of his jacket. I could tell deep down he wanted me, but didn't want to show it.

Then, a wonderful thing happened. He told me his name was really Hannibal Heyes! Hannibal Heyes, the outlaw leader! I had hit the jackpot! There was no way I was letting him go now! I had my outlaw boyfriend! Ahh, Mrs. Hannibal Heyes...sounds sooo good!

I looked straight into his eyes and knew he was telling the truth. They looked all dark and dangerous. But that didn't bother me none. He grabbed my wrists and I knew what he wanted. So I lunged forward and we ended up in the floor together!

I fell on top of him and he would NOT be still. I don't know how he expected me to kiss him when he was moving every which way. But I managed to do it anyway. I sat on his chest, got ahold of his head, and started kissing away.

He was STILL playing hard to get though for some reason. He was yelling for me to get off him, that ladies didn't act that way, and asked me was I crazy. But I knew he didn't really mean it. Suddenly, he pushed my shoulders and I lost my balance for a second and he turned and I fell onto my side on the floor. He tried to get up as fast as he could, but I was faster! His hat had fallen down on his back, so I grabbed the stampede string and jerked him back down to his knees. I might have choked him a little bit because he coughed. I grabbed hold of his shoulders and tried to pull him to the floor. But I only had ahold of his jacket and he started acting like he was trying to take it off. Now we were getting somewhere! Then I caught hold of his shirt collar and that got him back down to the floor. He was still telling me I was crazy so I said, "Yeah, and you're dangerous so we're a perfect match!"

I finally made it around to where I could sit on his legs. So I did and then I grabbed his arms and tried holding him down. This was a dream come true! But I couldn't hold him there. No wonder the law can't catch him and hold onto him. He's more slippery than a greased pig. I let go of his arms and grabbed his lapels again. He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed again. This time when I lost my balance, I held on to him so we both fell over on our sides.

He scrambled back to his hands and knees and was about to get up, but again, I moved quicker so I jumped and sat on his back. That pushed him back to the floor. I don't know why he kept playing so hard to get. We both knew what we wanted. I ran my hands through his dark hair and held his head once more to the side. He kept trying to raise back up on his knees, but I wasn't having none of that. He was right where I wanted him.

I told him to take me back to his hideout while I held onto him and kissed some more. At last, he quit fighting me and said, "Okay", he would take me away to live with him at Devil's Hole and that I should let him up so I could get my things and we could get going.

So I let go, and as soon as he stood up, he bolted out the door and jumped on his horse. I ran out to get him back, but he took off. I yelled that I loved him. He said something as he rode past the sheriff. I bet he was saying he loved me too and he'd be back. I understood. Of course he had to run, the sheriff was coming.

But as I stood in the street and watched him gallop off with my heart, I told him I would find him again someday. The sheriff came up to me and asked me if that was really Hannibal Heyes and I said yes while smiling real big and trying to push my hair out of my face. I figured he would go get a posse and go after my love. But then, the sheriff asked me the strangest question. He asked me what did I do to the poor boy. I looked completely innocent and said, "Nothing". Just because three men have tried to file assault charges on me, now I get this question all the time.

The sheriff just shook his head and left. I walked back into the library and sat down, thinking about my outlaw love. I was starting to get sad, but then I remembered he said he was meeting Kid Curry in Destiny Loop. Hmmm... why settle for one outlaw when I could have TWO! And not just any two, the two best outlaws there was! So I hurried and closed the library up and ran home to get ready.

I stopped at the cafe first though because it was past lunch time and I was hungry. I wished I hadn't though because the school teacher came in and asked me to open the library back up so she could get a book she needed for class. So I had to go back over there after I ate.

By the time I got everything settled and got home to get my horse ready, I was frantic with worry. What if they left without me? So as soon as I could change clothes, get my hair fixed, and my makeup back on, I fixed up my horse and rode as fast as I could to Destiny Loop. I wondered where two outlaws would be staying in town. Then I remembered Hannibal had used the name 'Joshua Smith', so I went to the hotel and asked if someone by that name was there. The clerk said yes and I found out which room was theirs and quietly climbed the stairs.

I knocked and a voice asked who was it. I wanted to surprise Hannibal so I said I had a message for Mr. Smith. But he didn't answer the door.

The man that did though, WOO! He was just as handsome as Hannibal! Dark blond, curly hair under a floppy brown hat and eyes the color of sapphires. He was just a tiny bit bigger than Hannibal and then it hit me,...he wasn't just an outlaw, he was also a gunslinger! This was Kid Curry!

Once again, I couldn't control myself. My heart jumped for joy and I jumped on him. Hannibal looked down as we fell to the floor. But I'm afraid, dear diary, I must stop here tonight. Kid Curry's a whole other story and I'm too tired to write anymore.

Love, Judy

Sorry.  I only seem to be able to do poems. 


Cheating?


They're all hypocrites


Hunting for thieves.


It's not Monday to Friday,


that interests me,


it's how you choose to spend


your Saturday nights.


And more times than not,


you'll find the preachers


spanked up in a brothel


or the mayor in the neighbor’s bed


when the one who placed


that ring upon their finger


thought they were walking the dog.


Wear the gold cross,


around the family home


and go to church on Sundays,


but everyone knows


they ignore the prostitute they pass in the street


though they know her oh so well.


And she him.


It doesn't fool anyone.


They only carry on with the act


While the scent of her cheap perfume


still lingers on his clothes


We're all hypocrites


Even me.


Here I am welcoming back the posse


and changing the bed sheets with a smile.


I suppose that’s easy to do


when I know Heyes and Curry never left town,


I know where they’ve been watching, waiting, and sleeping.


And they pay me for their room.


At least they’re honest crooks