Hats off to writer, Allegra, who really pulled a rabbit out of her hat with this VS episode!  It's a mighty good tale, and I ain't just talkin' through my hat!  
Allegra would like to thank Penski for all her generous help in bringing this story to realization. 1,000 thanks!




Author’s Note:  There will be some German words within the story.  For translation of the German, please scroll to the end of the story.




Kid Curry walked into the smoky saloon and slowly made his way through the noisy crowd to the bar where men were lined up around it.  Patiently the Kid nudged his way forward until he was in the front.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender practically shouted.

“A beer,” Curry replied.

The bartender nodded, poured a mug and handed it to his blond-haired customer.  “That’ll be five cents.”

The Kid took a coin out of his pocket and handed it to the man.  He leaned against the corner of the bar and drank his beer as he watched his partner playing poker.

Hannibal Heyes; brow creased in deep concentration.  He tapped his cards on the tabletop, next to a substantial pile of money, while the other players studied their own cards and placed their bets.

A cute blonde with curly hair wearing a bright blue dress that showed off her figure sauntered past the Kid and winked.  Curry smiled as he watched her walk away, but his attention was brought back to the poker table in time to watch Heyes rake the pot of money towards him.

Shaking their heads in disbelief, the poker players threw their cards in with exasperation.

“Another pot?”

“It's unnatural!”

“Seems like lady luck's just not in our corner tonight, fellas.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Kid Curry's mouth and he glanced around the saloon before relaxing against the bar again, sipping his beer.

As the next round of cards was dealt, the sound of raucous laughter was heard from outside the saloon.  The noise got louder, and Curry watched as a crowd of boisterous laughing men jostled through the doors and pushed each other into the room.  Most of the inhabitants of the saloon watched the antics of the rowdy newcomers.  One man got a hefty shove, lost his balance and came crashing down onto the floor, more or less at Heyes’ feet.

Heyes automatically turned and offered a hand to the man.  As the man looked up, Heyes’ eyes widened.  He quickly turned away and grabbed his hat, sliding the money into it.  “Sorry, but I’m gonna have to call it a night,” he mumbled as he stood and made his way to the door.

Kid Curry noticed his partner’s reaction, took a last swallow of beer, and made his way through the crowd towards the entrance.

“Hey!” came a shout from the table.  “You can’t leave.  We haven’t won our money back off of ya yet!”

Before going out, Heyes stopped briefly at the shout and looked back towards the table apologetically.  The young man on the floor had scrambled up and sat in the vacated chair.  Looking straight at him, he caught Heyes’ eye.  A spark of recognition flickered, but as he began to say something, Heyes hurried through the doors and out into the street.

The saloon was a cacophony of riotous men talking loudly as a pianist played an off-tune song.   The young man jumped up from the chair and waved his hands, trying to catch others’ attention.  “Hey!” he shouted.  “Hey!  Do you know who that was?”

The men at the poker table shrugged.

“That was Hannibal Heyes!” the man cried out, “and the other one following him must have been Kid Curry!”

The crowd quieted down and the men looked at each other, jaws agape.  Then, as if they had all trod on a rattler at the exact same moment, they jumped to action and there was a mad rush to the windows and doors to see where the outlaws had gone.  They caught sight of the two horses galloping out of town as the sun slowly sank in the sky.

The men poured out of the saloon and some of them raced towards their horses.

“Get the sheriff!”

“I’m goin’ after them – they’re worth a lot of money brought in dead or alive.”

The sheriff came out of his office and put his hands on his hips.  “What’s all the fuss about?”

A man running by stopped and called over to him.  “Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry just rode outta town.”

The sheriff immediately ran to the livery.  “Get my horse ready,” he shouted.  You’re all deputized! As of now, you’re all deputized!



The posse gave chase and Heyes and Curry rode frantically to get away from them.  The sun went behind the mountains and the sky got darker.  Soon they were mere shadows racing between the trees.  They came to a river and urged their horses to cross.  Once they reached the other side, Curry jumped down, broke a branch from a tree and attempted to wipe away their trail.

“Do you think we’ll lose them now?”

The Kid mounted his horse.  “Do you?”

“No.”

“Me neither.  So which way?”

“It’s either up the hills or around the side,” Heyes said, grasping for breath from the hard ride.  “What do you think would lose them quicker?”

The Kid glanced back in the direction they had come.  The sound of the posse chasing them could be heard in the distance.  “It’s gettin’ dark,” he said.  “If we went up the hill they’d have less chance of bein’ able to follow us, I reckon.”

“They’ll have to stop soon,” agreed Heyes as he patted his mount.  “Us too, though.”

Both ex-outlaws jumped as they heard a shout that indicated the posse was entirely too close for comfort.

“I don’t like that.  They sound like they‘re right next to us,” said the Kid.  “C'mon, Heyes.  We've run outta time.”  He turned his horse to face the hill and set off.

Heyes spun his horse to follow Curry's mount just as another shout came from behind.  Heyes jerked his head in the direction of the sound and at the same moment, his horse rushed forward, sending his hat flying off his head and tumbling to the ground.

“Kid!” Heyes yelped, and Curry pulled his horse to a stop.

“What's the matter?” the Kid asked as Heyes caught up to him.

Heyes shook his head.  “My hat!”  He pointed down a hill.

The Kid glanced in the direction Heyes was pointing, then gave his partner an incredulous look.  “You gotta be kiddin' me!” he hissed.

The sounds of horses giving chase and posse members shouting grew louder.

“Heyes, we gotta go.”

“But my hat...” Heyes lamented.

“When that posse catches up to us it won't matter, 'cause inmates don't wear hats at Wyoming Territorial Prison!”  He grabbed his partner's arm.  “Now let's GO!”

Heyes, however, made a movement as if to turn his horse around.  The Kid immediately snarled, “No, Heyes!  Not this time.  It’s gone.  Now move!”

Heyes gave one last longing look back down the hill and into the darkness, but he couldn’t ignore the sounds of the posse and he followed his partner upwards.  They rode up and over the hill in the darkness and into a grove of trees.



“I don’t hear them anymore.  I think we did it!” the Kid exclaimed as his partner brought his horse to a stop.  “They’ve given up.”

Heyes came along side him and gave him a bleak look.

Curry stared back.  “All right, I’m sorry about your hat, Heyes, but there’s no more posse followin’ us so let’s go find ourselves somewhere to bed down for the night and rest the horses.”

Heyes remained silent with an air of dejection so thick the Kid could not ignore it try as he might.

The Kid watched him for a moment before shaking his head.  “Let it go,” he said in irritation as he rode slowly into the darkness.

“If the posse’s gone, we could go back down and look for it,” came the sulky suggestion from behind him.  Heyes’ horse hadn’t moved.

“We’re not goin’ back to look for your hat,” the Kid said over his shoulder.

“Why not?  There’s no one there now and my head’s cold without it.”

Curry rolled his eyes.  “You said that that you didn’t want to fix that bullet hole in the front of it cause it allowed for ventilation, and that the wind whistled nicely through it.  Don’t see how it even kept your head warm.  You shouldn't miss it at all.”

“Funny!” came the sarcastic reply.  A moment later, Heyes spoke again.  “C’mon, Kid. I know where I dropped it and we could camp down in the valley.”

“What if the posse is campin’ in the valley?” the Kid called back.

“Nah, they’re on their way back home.  Feel how cold it is out here tonight?”  He paused.  “It’d be warmer in the valley, too.”

The Kid brought his horse to a halt again and waited.  Heyes hesitated before reluctantly urging his mount toward the Kid.  Curry gave him one of his coldest gunslinger stares and said though gritted teeth, “We are not goin’ lookin’ for your hat tonight, Heyes.  We are stayin’ up here where it is safe and we won’t get caught.”

Heyes began to open his mouth, but the Kid held up his hand in a clear ‘don’t say another word’ gesture, and rode on.  This time his partner followed him.

When they came to a cave entrance, the Kid dismounted and checked it briefly.  “It’s empty and the perfect place for us to spend the night.”

“Fine,” snapped Heyes, “we’ll stay here tonight…but first thing tomorrow we’re gonna…”

“Let’s just get through tonight, huh?” the Kid said, exasperated.  “Sheesh!  It’s just a hat!”

Heyes frowned as he walked into the cave.  “It’s not just a hat; it’s MY hat!”



The following morning, Heyes emerged from the cave and into a winter wonderland of white.  Everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow and his surroundings looked entirely different.

He blanched in horror as he looked around; however, as the Kid came out to join him, his shoulders straightened and his eyes narrowed.  “We’d better get going,” Heyes said determinedly.  “The sooner we start looking, the sooner we’ll find it.”

The Kid took in the completely new landscape.  “I agree – we gotta get goin’.  But we gotta get goin’ away from here,” he groused.  It’s cold and, on top of that, the posse might still be out there lookin’ for us.  That hat of yours is buried under a pile of snow by now so you might as well consider it a dead loss.”

“The posse would have given up as soon as it started to snow,” came the stubborn reply.  “They weren’t equipped to be out all night in this.  And I need my hat.  I can’t lose it.  It’s a part of me.”

“It’s not a part of you,” Curry said, “or you wouldn’t have lost it in the first place.”  Despite an angry glare from Heyes, the Kid continued, “And, just because the posse gave up last night doesn’t mean they’ve given up searchin’.  They’ll certainly be back to look for us again today.  Don’t forget, we’re worth twenty thousand dollars to them.”  He looked at Heyes, then at the landscape, and then back at Heyes.  “Look, Heyes.  I’m really sorry about your hat.”

Heyes gave his partner another glare.

“I’m serious.  Do you really think you’ll find it under all this?  I mean just look around!  You won’t even be able to tell anymore where you dropped it.”

“Of course I will,” Heyes replied with an air of confident superiority.  “It’s my hat!”

“What?”  The Kid squinted over to his partner.  “It’s a hat!  It’s not gonna shout at you to tell you where it is.”

“I have to find my hat, Kid.  There’s just no other way.”

“Of course there are other ways,” the Kid said simply.  “It just stays lost.”  Heyes gave him a piteous look.  “Or, I could just save myself a whole lot of bother by just shootin’ you and lookin’ for a new partner instead.”

“You’d shoot me because of my hat?”

“No, I'd shoot you because of your dang fool stubbornness.  Believe me, no other reason is necessary.”

Heyes gave him a hurt look.  “You gonna help me or not?”

“We can go and look for it for a little bit – if you can figure out where you think you dropped it.  But if we don’t find it real quick, we have to get out of here.  Do you understand, Heyes?  We can’t just stay all day because that posse will be back.”

“Fine,” groused Heyes.  “Let’s pack up and get going.”  And with that he turned and went back into the cave.  Curry shook his head and followed him.



They arrived down at the bottom of the hill and Heyes jumped down from his horse.  He immediately started to hunt in the snow searching for his missing headwear.  The Kid slowly dismounted, too, following his eager friend, and half-heartedly kicked away the snow from darker lumps which all turned out to be rocks.

“You sure this is the right spot?” he asked his partner who was digging around with his hands and getting covered in snow, slush and muck in the process.  “I mean, it was dark last night and everything looks so different in the snow now.”

“Of course I'm sure,” came the snapped response.  Heyes stood up and looked over at the Kid.  “And you could put a bit more effort into looking, too.”

“I would if this is the right spot.  Otherwise, why bother?  I think I’m better off lettin’ you do all the work and get muddy.  And anyway, I’m enjoyin’ the show,“ he grinned.

“Okay, partner, if you think this is the wrong spot, where do you think we were?”

“I thought we were further down in that direction.”  The Kid pointed to a far-off non-existent trail along the base of the hills.

“Well, go look over there then if you think you’re right,” snapped Heyes.  “I happen to think this is the spot.  I’ll join you when I’ve finished looking here.  Aftr I’ve found my hat – that is.”

The Kid stared at his partner who turned his back on him and went on determinedly digging and kicking through the snow.  He mounted his horse and rode away.



Curry walked around another area still half-heartedly searching the snow, poking a branch into it here and there in a desultorily manner, when Heyes rode up.

“Any luck?” he asked, his voice hopeful as he dismounted and walked over to his partner.

“What do you think?!” snapped Curry.  He looked up and seeing Heyes’ crestfallen face took pity.  “Look, Heyes.  You know we’re NEVER gonna find it now.  We don’t even know where to start lookin’.”

Heyes looked at him incredulously.  “You’re not thinking of giving up!  Kid, how could you!”

Curry’s sympathy dried up immediately.  “I know when to quit!” he said sharply, “and so should you!”

Heyes opened his mouth to reply when they heard voices in the distance.  The partners looked at each other, Heyes’ eyes pleading, but Curry grabbed his partner’s arm and manhandled him towards his mount, almost pushing him into the saddle.  Heyes stopped just before swinging up into the saddle, but Curry put his hand firmly over his partner’s mouth and gave his head an emphatic shake.  Heyes glared at his partner but received a heartier glare in return and his shoulders slumped in defeat. After a moment more, Curry removed his hand and stood back.  Heyes swung up into the saddle while Curry went over to mount his own horse and together they rode away like the wind.  



Two weary former outlaws, looking the worse for wear in clothing that appeared to have been wetted, muddied and freeze-dried repeatedly, leaned against a bar, nursing two whiskeys.

The Kid's hat lay on the bar next to his drink, and Heyes’ hat lay...nowhere to be seen.

Heyes scowled into the distance and silence reigned.

Finally, Curry cracked.  “Look, I said I’d get you a ne…”

“And I said, NO!” interrupted Heyes.

Another short silence ruled.  “I’m sure I can find one exactly like your old one.”

“Impossible,” came the sulky reply.  “That hat was unique.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was a Baron 100% beaver skin hat, Heyes.  I’m sure Baron made several hats in that style and color.”

Heyes’ eyes narrowed as his shoulders hunched together.  “Me and that hat went through everything together.  You just had to look at the bullet hole in it to see that.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem puttin’ a bullet hole in a new hat,” said the Kid turning to his partner, “preferably when you’re wearin’ it.”

Heyes straightened up and turned to glare at his partner.  “Come spring, Thaddeus, we’re going back.  We’re gonna find my hat and, once it’s dried out it will be good as new and we can be on our way.”

This time it was Curry’s shoulders that slumped.



The trees were beginning to bud and the wildflowers were abundant.  Only patches of snow could be found in the shade of trees and rocks at the base of the hills where the posse chase ended.  Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry walked their horses very slowly, scouring the ground.  Their shoulders were slumped as they searched the new grass with downcast eyes.

“How much longer do you want to look?” asked Curry gently.

Heyes looked stricken and raised his arms.  “I don’t know – it should be here!”  He let them fall limply to his side

“I know,” acknowledged his partner, “but Heyes, we’ve been looking for hours.  You’re gonna have to face up to the fact that it’s gone.”

“I dropped it here,” Heyes said. “Why isn’t it here?” he asked, his voice jumping an octave.

“I’ll get you a new hat, Heyes.”

“I don’t want a new hat.”

“I’ll get you one anyway.  I promise it’ll be a good one – one your old hat wouldn’t mind you wearin’ as its replacement.”

“Of course it wouldn’t mind!  It was a hat, Kid, a thing.”

“The way you’ve been talking all winter, I wondered if you realized that.”

“I missed it all winter.”

“That’s not the only thing you missed!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

The Kid looked meaningfully at his partner.  “It means that this has gone on long enough.  We’re goin’ to the nearest town and we’re buyin’ you a hat.”

Heyes took a last look around the area and nodded in acceptance.  “You’re right.”  A sigh.  “Okay.  Let’s go.”

The Kid looked over in surprise.  “You mean it?”

Heyes nodded again.  “Yeah.  I guess it really is lost.  We can go.”  He sounded defeated.

However, as they spurred their horses and set off, Heyes added in an insufferable tone of superiority, “Not the nearest town, though.  That’s where we had to run from; you probably forgot that.  It’ll have to be the second nearest town.”

Curry took a deep breath of patience.  “Anywhere, Heyes, just as long as they’re sellin’ hats.”



Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry slowly rode into town, their eyes taking in the stores and the people.  They dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching post in the street.

Kid looked at his partner. “Ready?” he asked.

Heyes looked nervous.  “A drink first maybe,” he answered.

“You know, you’re goin’ to get a hat, Joshua, not have a tooth pulled.”

“I think I’d rather have a tooth pulled.”

“Don’t tempt me!  Now c’mon.”  Curry marched Heyes along the street until they came to a millinery shop.  Painted on the window in an arch shape were huge letters that read: “Ernst Hott.”  Under this wording was another arch of words that was somewhat smaller: “Maker of Fine Hats for Gentlemen and Ladies.”  There were several hats on display in the window and the Kid grunted with satisfaction and pushed Heyes up to the door and through it.

An elderly shopkeeper came out to the front of the shop as the bell above the door rang.  He eyed the two ex-outlaws dubiously, removing his spectacles and wiping them carefully and then replacing them before enquiring in a thick German accent, “Und vot can I do for you, two… err – gentlemen?”

The Kid pointed to Heyes’ head.  “He wants a new hat.”

“I don’t want a new hat,” muttered Heyes.

“Fine!”  Curry shoved Heyes forward.  “He needs a new hat.”

Heyes turned to glare at his partner, but the shopkeeper’s face had immediately changed on hearing the words ‘new’ and ‘hat’.  He bustled forward animatedly.  “Vell, you haff come to zer richtige Stelle – ja! – zer right place.  I, Ernst Hott, stock only zer finest hats.  I voz employed by zer Deutsch & Co. off New York in New York before I followed Horace Greeley’s goot advices und vos moving out to zer west,” he said, proudly.  He got out a tape measure and moved towards Heyes.  “Now ve must first be looking for how big your head is, ja?”

Curry snorted in amusement and turned away to hide his grin as he earned yet another glare from his partner.

Mr. Hott, meanwhile, reached up to Heyes’ head, quickly wrapped the tape around it and read the circumference measurement.  *“Genau wie ich dachte,” he muttered and then more loudly, “Ja, vos I tort.  I vill be right back if you vill be vonting to vait right here.”  He then disappeared into his back room humming.

“Yeah, veel be vonting to vait right here,” grinned the Kid.  “Maybe he needs a longer tape measure to get around that big head of yo…”  At this moment, Heyes saw his chance and turned to leave.  “Oh, no ya don’t, Joshua,” said the Kid.  He grabbed Heyes and held him an unwilling prisoner until the shopkeeper returned with several large boxes.  

Heyes eyed them suspiciously as the shopkeeper put the boxes onto the counter and opened the first one.  He unraveled what seemed to be reams of tissue paper and lovingly pulled out a large dark brown hat.  “Ah, Zis ist a braun hat.  Er ist wunderschön.  He is beautiful, no?”  Beaming at it and then at Heyes he brought it over to him, placed it on his head and turned him towards the mirror.

The Kid looked encouraging but Heyes gave his image in the mirror a short glance and looked away again.  “No.”

The shopkeeper’s smile faltered slightly but he rallied quickly, and snatched the hat back off Heyes’ head and returned it to the box.  The next box revealed a light brown confection which Heyes immediately dismissed before it fully emerged from its wrappings.  “It’s too much like yours, Thaddeus.”

The Kid sighed and turned to the shopkeeper.  “Do you have somethin’ in black?”

* *“Und warum sie konnten das nicht sofort sagen…,” mumbled the shopkeeper before smiling.  “But of course I haff black hats here also.  Zer very best ones.”  The shopkeeper opened two more hat boxes before pulling out a pristine black Baron 100% beaver fur.

The Kid smiled.  “Hey, Joshua, it’s your old hat!”

Heyes gave him an incredulous stare.  “It’s nothing like it!” he retorted.

“But this one don’t look like a herd of buffalo stampeded over it, but otherwise it’s the same.  Go on, Joshua, try it on.”

Heyes eyed the proffered hat as if it were a rattlesnake about to bite him but then he gingerly accepted it, and put it dubiously on his head.  He stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes looking out mournfully from under the brim.

“One moment – if you vill allow me to…”  Mr Hott reached up and adjusted the hat muttering to himself in German.  * * * “Und naturlich steht er da wie ein Kartoffelsack, und wie kann ein Hut gut aussehen wenn er nur so lieblos aufgesetzt wird...”  He finished his adjustments and then beamed at Heyes.  “He is looking very vell on your head.  Vood zer gentleman like a zweiter – second, smaller looking glasses so zat he can be seeing how vell he is looking from zer backside as vell?”

“That’s a great idea.  He’d love to see his backside,” grinned the Kid.  

The shopkeeper looked puzzled at the Kid but rallied quickly and smiled again.  “I vill be fetching zen zer looking glasses for zat.”  He then disappeared into the back room once more to retrieve a hand mirror.

The Kid was still smiling.  He pointed a thumb towards the back of the shop where Mr Hott had disappeared.  “Isn’t he great?  I love the way he talks.”  Heyes merely looked despondent and the Kid changed back to serious.  He came up behind Heyes and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t worry about the hat.  We’ll find a hat band for it just like your old one and, the way you treat your things, soon it’ll be just as beat up as the old one was too.”

“A new hat – it feels awful to have to buy a new hat, Kid.”

“Heyes…” the Kid warned, immediately removing his hand, as the shopkeeper came back with the mirror and Mr Hott held it to the customer so that Heyes could see himself from the back.

“It is being a perfect fit for zer bigness of your head, you see?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t have thought they made ‘em to fit an ego his size,” commented the Kid and Mr Hott looked slightly offended.

“Of course zey are making such hats,” he told the Kid.  “But it is zer measuring zat must be genau – exact – so zat zer head is not looking stupid small or stupid big under it, you see?”

“That’s quite some service you provide,” said the Kid.  “Mind you, if some people start acting stupid, aint no hat gonna help ‘em look different.”  He gave Heyes a pointed stare.

Mr Hott chose to ignore him and, instead, adjusted the hat again slightly beaming at Heyes.  “Zis hat ist perfect for you,” he stated.

Heyes gave a reluctant nod.

“You vill vont to buy it zen, I sink?  Das ist wunderbar!”  The shopkeeper looked delighted but stopped smiling when Heyes shook his head.

“I think I need a moment,” he said.

“What for?” demanded Curry impatiently.

* * * * “Ja, das kann doch gar nicht war sein, for vot?” repeated Mr Hott anxiously.

“I need a drink,” replied Heyes.  “This is a big thing for me.  You wouldn’t understand, Thaddeus, not being as sensitive as me, but I can’t just go into a shop and replace my old hat as if it never existed.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Fine!” snapped Curry.  “But I’ve had enough of this.  You get a drink but then we come back here and purchase that hat!”

The shopkeeper followed the exchange, his smile fading as he realized the sale was being put on hold.  * * * * * “Du meine Güte,” he muttered before addressing the partners again.  “But of course you must take a moment.  I understand natürlich.”  He gave an obsequious half bow before taking the hat off Heyes’ head and putting it carefully back in its box.  “Zis vill be vaiting for you ven you are finishing viz your drinking.”

That was all Heyes needed and he abruptly turned and went out the door.

“Appreciate this,” Curry told the shopkeeper touching his hand to his own hat.  “We’ll be right back.”

* * * * * * “Blödmann.  You are velcome, mein Herr,” smiled the shopkeeper watching him go out.  As soon as Curry was gone, the smile disappeared and he went over to the hat boxes and began packing them up again.  “Und Sie können mich auch mal...Was für eine Zeitverschwendung.  Unglaublich.  Die ganze Arbeit für schon wieder nichts…”

Curry followed Heyes over to the empty saloon, through the doors and they each went over to the counter.  The barkeeper came straight over.  “What’ll it be?”

“Two whiskeys,” ordered Curry as Heyes slouched down in his stool.

The keeper poured their drinks and put them in front of the partners.  “What’s wrong with him?” he asked the Kid indicating Heyes’ mournful slumping figure.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Curry said.  “He lost his hat that he was very attached to.”  He rolled his eyes slightly at the bar keeper who began polishing a glass ready to return to the shelf.

The keeper smiled back at Curry, sharing the joke.  “Hannibal Heyes,” he said.

Curry’s grin immediately vanished and he looked shocked.  Heyes sat up, wide-eyed.  “What did you call me?”

The bar keeper looked taken aback at this reaction.  “Hannibal Heyes?” he said tentatively.  He looked from one to the other and then went on, “you know – ‘lost his hat Hannibal Heyes’?”

The boys continued to stare dumbfounded and the bar keeper back pedaled rapidly.  “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it.  It’s just a standin’ joke here.  Sheriff in the next town had a run in with Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.  It was a few months ago.  They were in town, large as life, playin’ poker in the saloon there when they were spotted.  Sheriff got a posse together as quick as he could but he didn’t manage to get ‘em.”  He shrugged.  “No shame in that.  No one’s ever got ‘em.  Heyes lost his hat in the chase, though, and the sheriff found it.  He’s got it in his office as a souvenir…”  He trailed off as he realized the reaction he was getting was not one of amused interest but deep shock.

Heyes immediately stood up and walked away and out through the doors.  “Hey!” called out the bar keeper.  “I didn’t mean it.”  He looked to the Kid who was getting up and about to follow his partner.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said again, looking directly at the Kid.  “I was kidding.”

“Next time watch who you call Hannibal Heyes,” the Kid advised him as he walked away.

“Well, how could I know he’d be upset?  It was a joke…and it’s not as if he looks anything like him.”

The Kid shook his head and went through the doors.



“Joshua!”

Heyes marched over to his horse and the Kid hurried over to catch up with him.

“Joshua!”  He grabbed Heyes’ arm as he was about to take the reins and try to mount his horse.

“My hat,” hissed Heyes.

“I know,” said the Kid, “but just wait a second, will ya.”

“He called me Hannibal Heyes.”

“The man’s a genius and he don’t even know it,” came the dry response.  “Now just stop a moment and think this through.”  He yanked Heyes away from his mare and over into a side street where it was quiet with no people around.

“I want my hat back,” snapped Heyes.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” snarled the Kid, giving Heyes a shake.  “What in the world is wrong with you?  The bartender’s right.  You’re nothin’ like Hannibal Heyes.”

Heyes paused and looked at his partner.  “Hey!  I am Hannibal Heyes!”

“You’re disguisin’ it very well, but then that might just be a good thing since right now you seem so keen on tellin’ the world who you are.”  He looked pointedly at their surroundings and Heyes had the good grace to look abashed.

“Okay, Thaddeus,” he said.  “What do you think we should do?”

“I think we should get out of here while nobody suspects that we’re two wanted outlaws…”  Heyes began to interrupt but Curry continued talking.  “…but I know that my partner is never gonna leave without his precious hat so I’ll just ask him to at least wait until nightfall before he goes chargin’ into a town where half the townsfolk now recognize us.”

“Not half the town,” Heyes argued.  “I know the saloon was full, but I doubt that many people would know us again.  That one guy recognized me but he didn’t get the chance to say anything until we were gone.  The men I was playing poker with would probably remember me because of the way I was winning.  No one would remember you…”  The Kid raised his eyebrows at his partner who amended.  “Well, maybe a saloon girl or two, but, really, no one else.”  The Kid sighed.  “Also, there were no lawmen in the saloon that evening so they most likely don’t know what we look like either.  They’d have to rely on that one witness.”

“I’d rather not risk it, if it’s all the same to you,” replied the Kid.  “I think the odds of being recognized are too high, even if your behavior is nothin’ like Heyes.”

Curry received a glare as they headed back towards their horses again.



In the dark of night, two figures crept along the street, bending low and keeping to the shadows.  They headed to the jail’s window and they sneaked a peek inside.  From the light emitted by the gas lamp, they saw the sheriff sitting at his desk and hanging on the wall behind him was Hannibal Heyes’ hat.  Heyes made a hissing sound and Curry dragged him back down and away from the window.

“My hat!”  Heyes’ eyes glistened and he smiled broadly.

“I’m very happy for you both,” whispered the Kid sarcastically.

“Soon as the sheriff leaves, I’m going in and fetching it.”

“What about the deputy?”

“You’ll create a distraction.”

“I’ll what?!”

“Create a distraction.”  Heyes looked around as he heard the door to the sheriff’s office open.  He glimpsed the sheriff exit his office, calling out a good night.  Then the door closed.

As they waited for the sheriff to walk out of range, Heyes fidgeted and then turned to the Kid.  “Got your distraction ready?” he asked, getting ready to spring up.

“No!” answered the Kid.  He grabbed Heyes and held him down.

“Kid, I only need the deputy to leave for just a minute so I can sneak in and get my hat back.  Even you can manage that.  Just do something.”

“I will do somethin’ in a minute that will bring the deputy runnin’, Heyes, if you don’t shut that mouth of yours, but you won’t be in a position to do anything about fetchin’ your hat when I’m done.”

Another glare was interrupted by a distraction.  A horse and carriage came barreling down the main street going too fast.

“WHOA!  WHOA!” the driver shouted as a man yelled out in surprise when he was almost hit.  “WHOA!”  The team of horses finally slowed down at the end of the street.

“Are you crazy?  You almost killed me!” shouted the man who avoided getting hit.

The deputy rushed outside and over to the ruckus.

Heyes shook the Kid off.  “Good distraction, partner,” Heyes said in mock respect, as he gave his friend a pat on the shoulder.  Then, quick as a flash, he sprung up.  He ran straight over to the sheriff’s office and slipped through the door.

Disgustedly, the Kid got up and followed him.  He raced through the door and bumped into Heyes’ back.  “Now what, Joshua?”

Heyes came to a dead stop staring at the wall behind the sheriff’s desk.  There was a large hook…and no hat.

The Kid looked at the wall and then back at Heyes and, once more to the wall.

Heyes turned to him and pointed at the hook.  “It was right there.  I saw it through the window.”

They both just stood there looking at no hat.  The two ex-outlaws turned in unison when they heard a noise behind them.

The deputy walked back into the office.  He looked up, saw them standing there and his hands came to rest on his gun.  He carefully took in the rest of the room before looking them over once again.  “What are you doing in here?”

“We wanted to see Hannibal Heyes’ hat,” Heyes answered immediately.  “We were told the sheriff here has it.”

The deputy smiled and relaxed his stance.  “Ah, yes, of course, tourists.”  Both boys did a double take at this description and then nodded eagerly in agreement as they realized that all the deputy’s suspicions had been swept away.  “Well, you’re just a couple of minutes too late,” the deputy apologized.  “The sheriff’s gone home.”

“You mean he wears it to go home?” asked Heyes looking slightly horrified.

The deputy laughed but as he turned to close the door behind him, Curry gave Heyes a brief kick and a glare.

“Oh, no!” replied the deputy jovially.  “It’s just that the hat is his prized possession.  It sits right up there on that hook when he’s in his office.”  The deputy pointed to the now empty hook on the wall.  “But, when the sheriff goes home, he locks up all the valuables – the cell keys, the money, and the hat in that there safe.”  The deputy’s finger pointed back down and into the corner where a sleek Alpine Safe & Lock Co. floor safe rested temptingly.

Heyes’ eyes shone and Curry recognized the look.  “Thank you, Deputy,” he said, putting his hand firmly on Heyes’ arm and began pushing him back towards the door.  “I guess we’d better just come back in the mornin’ when the sheriff’s here.”

The deputy nodded.  “Don’t forget to bring a dollar each,” he told them.  The boys stopped before exiting the door.

“A dollar?” questioned the Kid.

“Yeah,” answered the deputy.  “A dollar.”  He walked up to them and whispered conspiratorially, “’cause for a dollar he’ll let you try it on!”

“What!” spluttered Heyes as, at the same time, the Kid exclaimed, “That’s a heck of a lot of money!”

“People’re willin’ to pay it,” shrugged the deputy.  The two ex-outlaws stared at him in surprise.

“That’s highway robbery,” protested Heyes.

“Well, just think about it,” the deputy went on.  “That hat sat on the head of one of the most notorious outlaws of the ‘Wild West’.”

“So?” asked the Kid, plainly unimpressed.

“So…” replied the deputy, “just think about it.  Hannibal Heyes was the leader of the Devil’s Hole Gang; he planned all those robberies, hoodwinked all those railroad people and bankers, outwitted everyone…and that hat sat on his head all that time!”

“You’re right,” said Heyes.  “That’s worth more than a dollar.  That’s worth at least two dollars.  Maybe five.  That hat is, indeed, unique.”

The Kid frowned and the deputy beamed.  “Sheriff reckons so, and a lot of folks think so, too, or they wouldn’t pay.  Only thing worth more I’d say would be havin’ Kid Curry’s gun.”

Now the Kid smiled while Heyes looked sullen.  “Now, that WOULD be a souvenir, don’t you agree, Joshua?  I bet folks would pay ten dollars to see that,” confirmed the Kid, “but I guess we’ll just have to settle for second best.  Come now, Joshua.”  The Kid tipped his hat at the deputy and dragged Heyes out of the door just as he opened his mouth to protest again.  “Hey!” was all he managed.

“See you in the morning then,” the deputy called out to the door but it had already closed.

The Kid was laughing by the time he’d finished manhandling Heyes back around the corner to the sheriff’s office.

“Can you believe that?!” spluttered Heyes in outrage.

“Well, of course it’s outrageous that it costs a dollar to try on your moldy old hat,” conceded Curry.

“NO!  He thinks your gun would be worth more than my hat!”  Heyes cringed.  “And, ugh, all the people trying on MY hat!!”

“A moment ago you were proud of all those folks tryin’ on your hat.  You know somethin’?  You sure are proddy since you lost it.  But okay, have it your way.  You’re right.  It would’ve fared much better under a pile of snow all winter.”

“Would you like to have just anyone shooting your gun?”

“I am not talkin’ with you about my gun,” said the Kid firmly, “but, in the meantime, I’ve had a great idea as to what we can do when our amnesty comes through.”

“Yeah?  And what’s that?”

“We can set up a museum with all our outlaw keepsakes and charge people to take a look.”

Heyes looked at his partner as if he’d grown a second head.  “And precisely what keepsakes are you talking about?  Last I looked we had what we’re wearing, the contents of our saddle-bags and two bedrolls.  I don’t think our horses count.”  He crept back over to the window and looked in again.  “Gonna be a real small museum.”

“It’s just an idea,” defended the Kid, joining him under the window and taking a peek, too.

“Uh huh.  That’s why I do the thinking and come up with the plans,” Heyes responded without turning to look at Curry.

“You got a plan for this yet?” the Kid asked.

“Yeah, same one as before; we get rid of the deputy, but it’s a bit more complicated now.  I have to break into the safe and fetch my hat,” replied Heyes promptly.

“And how are you gonna get rid of the deputy this time?”

“I’m still working on that part.”

“Oh, well, I suppose we’ve got all night…”

“I’m open to suggestions!” snapped Heyes.

“No, no,” said the Kid.  “This is a job for the leader of the Devil’s Hole Gang, who outwitted all those railroad men and bankers… and whatever else…you know… the fella who does the thinkin’ and comes up with all the plans.”

“Fine, I’ll think of something myself!”

“Well, I do have this one idea,” conceded the Kid.  “You wanna hear it?”



A hint of pink dawned in the sky on the horizon.  The deputy came out of his office with a yawn and stretched as he looked over the town.  He locked the door and pocketed the key before he rubbed his hands together to ward off the cold morning temperature.  Then he wandered down the street glancing sleepily left and right.

Behind him, a shadow darted to the door and a lock pick was removed from a boot; before long, the door opened to the jail.  Heyes slipped through into the room, shutting the door behind him, and wasted no time going over to the safe.  He knelt down and put his ear to the door.  Soon he was fervently turning the dial at the front.



Meanwhile, the deputy came towards the edge of town and saw a figure leaning against a corral fence in the distance.  He walked over and saw the Kid staring out at the budding sunrise.  He went and stood next to him.  “A mite early to be up an’ about,” he commented.  It sounded like a question.

“My partner snores.”

The deputy chuckled.  “Well, I’m glad he can sleep.  He seemed awful riled up about wantin’ to see Heyes’ hat an’ all.”

“He’s obsessed with that hat,” nodded the Kid.  “Ever since he heard about it bein’ here he’s been real anxious to come see it.”

“Where’d he hear about it?”

“Just the next town.  We’d gone there lookin’ for work – just passin’ through – you know, and we got to talkin’ to the barkeeper there and he was tellin’ us all about the posse and the chase.  Sounded mighty excitin’.”

The deputy nodded.  “There was a great hullaballoo goin’ on that evening, I’ll give ya that.  About thirty men got themselves together to give chase but them slippery outlaws just got away again.  They really are a wily pair.”

“I heard that about them.”

“Still, not bad gettin’ a souvenir like Heyes’ hat out of it,” continued the deputy.

“Shame about the Kid’s gun,” said Curry.

The deputy chuckled again.  “Yeah, he didn’t even fire a shot.”

The two men stood in silent thought for a moment before the Kid proceeded, “I’ve heard about his shootin’.  Now, that’s somethin’ that I would really pay to see and I’m a pretty good shot myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, huh.  Reckon I could take him on with a target.”

“Ya think you’re that good?”

“Maybe not as fast,” conceded the Kid, “but I bet I could hit a target better than him.”

The deputy looked at him.  “That’s quite some boastin’ you’re doin’,” he commented.

“Want me to prove it?” the Kid asked him, his eyebrows arched.

The deputy looked about him.  “Ya know, I’m not such a bad shot myself.  What say you and me have ourselves a little competition?”

The Kid smiled, but then also looked down the street at the barely lit sky.  “We can’t shoot right here though, but if we went just over there... Tell ya what, you got a piece of paper?”

“Sure,” said the deputy.  “Always carry somethin’.  Just a moment.”  He rummaged around in his pockets and eventually pulled out a folded sheet of paper.  “This okay?”

“That’s fine,” said the Kid.  “Now I’ll pin this to this post.  Then we’ll go over there,” he pointed down the road and out of town, “and have a competition to see who can shoot the hole in the center.”

The deputy looked startled but agreed.  “All right, you got a deal.”

The Kid hung the piece of paper onto the post by putting a stone on the top and letting the paper hang down.  The deputy and he walked away from the corral, down the road and out of town.



Meanwhile, back in the sheriff’s office, Heyes’ eyes lit up when he heard the final click of the safe’s tumblers as they fell into place.  He pulled the handle down and opened the door.

And there was his hat.  Reverently, he took it out and looked at it for a long moment before lovingly putting it on his head.  “Yes!” he said to himself in glee.  Then, he quickly began to close the door to the safe but stopped on seeing a small wad of dollars inside.  “That’s actually mine – it’s my hat they paid that money to wear…”  He reached into the safe but then stopped and sighed.  He slammed the safe shut and tiptoed back to the front door.  He did a quick look outside and slipped through it, before slinking off into the predawn sky.

He ran on a side road to where the horses were tethered and walked the two mounts out and down the street.  The morning dawn began to bring patterns of light and shadow as he quietly advanced with the two horses following.  A little further along the road, he heard the sound of a door closing.  He froze and looked over to see the sheriff coming out of a house.  Quick as a flash, Heyes whipped off his hat and stood with his hands behind his back, holding onto the two horses’ reins.

The sheriff locked the door, turned and was surprised to see Heyes standing nearby watching him.  “Mornin’,” he said cautiously.  “You’re out early.”

“Yep.  I need to get an early start.  Gotta get to Red Rock by tonight,” replied Heyes, smiling in his best friendly manner.  “I saw you there and didn’t want to startle you so I waited for you to see me.  I’m just on my way.”

“With two horses?”

“My partner’s up ahead.  He went out earlier.  He says I snore.”

The sheriff smiled and tipped his hat.  “Have a good day.” He turned and headed over towards his office.

“And a good day to you, too, Sheriff,” answered Heyes, shifting to mount his own horse and lead Curry’s.

The sheriff got to his office and tried the door, which opened with ease.  Entering, he called out to his deputy, “Conrad?” but there was no reply.  He shook his head.  “How many times have I told him to lock up if he’s gonna leave to walk his rounds.”  He looked around but saw nothing out of place.  The sheriff shrugged his shoulders.  “Hard to find good help nowaday.”



The deputy looked more nervous with every step further that they took.  “How far are we walkin’?”

“Far enough to make it interestin’.”  They stopped a few steps further on and turned towards the town.  “Think anyone will hear us from here?”

The deputy looked doubtful.  “They’ll hear something, but from far away.  Say, can you even see that paper from here?  It’s still too dark.”

“That makes it more interestin’,” said the Kid.

“Then you go first,” the deputy encouraged him.

Kid Curry smiled and drew his gun slowly.  He lifted it and took careful aim, squinting into the distance at the piece of paper which was virtually invisible in the morning light.

He fired a single shot and dropped his hand back down.  He holstered his gun while nodding to himself in apparent satisfaction.

The deputy looked at him and then at the target.  “You never hit it,” he said disbelievingly.

“You’re welcome to go check,” the Kid replied.  At that moment, they saw a figure riding towards them, a second horse walking behind, tied on a lead.  The figure put his arm up in a greeting.

“Ah, that’ll be my partner,” the Kid told the deputy, waving back.

“He’s up early after all,” smiled the deputy.  “You’re still gonna have to wait for the sheriff, though, if you want a turn at tryin’ on that hat.”

The Kid walked towards his partner.  “By the looks of him, I think he’s changed his mind and wants to get goin’.”

The deputy shrugged.  “That’d be a shame since it’s what you came for.”

“I think he might’ve gotten what he came for anyway,” said the Kid.

The deputy gave him a puzzled look.  “Huh?”

Heyes nodded at the Kid and Curry smiled.  “Yup, he’s got it.”  He turned to the deputy and held out his hand.  “Guess we’ll be on our way.  It was good shootin’ with you.”

The deputy shook his hand.  “You did the shootin’, mister, but don’t you even want to know if you hit the mark?”

“I’ll let you check that.”  The Kid smiled as he mounted his horse and nudged her into a trot.  “Consider it a better souvenir.”  He touched his hand to his hat in farewell.

“Be seeing you, deputy,” said Heyes, bringing his hand up from where it had been hidden beside the horse’s flank.  In his hand was a familiar-looking hat and as he put it on his head, the deputy’s eyes grew wide.  “Hey, that’s…” he spluttered.

The horses broke into a gallop as the Kid and Heyes rode away.  The deputy watched dumbfounded until they were out of sight.  He hurried over to the corral and looked at the piece of paper.  “He did hit it!”  He pulled the paper off the post to check it and noticed writing on it.  It said ‘Kid’ and the bullet lodged in the place above the ‘i’ to provide the dot of the letter.  “Well, I’ll be…” he exclaimed.



“Do we have to worry about another posse?” Heyes asked the Kid as they rode together into the sunrise.

“No one is up yet.  By the time they’ve rounded up enough men, we’ll be long gone.  And this time we know where to hide,” grinned Curry.

“What did you mean by a better souvenir, Kid?”

“Oh, nothin’,” came the reply.



The deputy rushed through the jail’s doors and saw the sheriff sitting at his desk.

“Where’ve you been?” he demanded.

“Sheriff,” the deputy huffed out of breath.  “You’ll never guess who was just here.”

“Did whoever it was make you forget to lock the door?” asked the sheriff belligerently.

The deputy stopped and seemed to slump.  “No, I locked it.  Reckon Hannibal Heyes opened it.”

“Hannibal Heyes?!”

“He was just here…with his partner, Kid Curry.”

The sheriff looked at the deputy in alarm and immediately went to the safe. He opened it and there was, of course, no hat.

“Wonderful,” he snarled.

“Do you want to gather a posse?” the deputy tentatively asked.

“Of course!” but the man was clearly only going through the motions.  “Go see who you can find to ride out with us.”

The deputy nodded and went to the door.  He turned and said, “If it makes you feel any better, Sheriff, they did leave another souvenir…you know – instead of the hat.”

The sheriff looked up and the deputy held the piece of paper with the bullet hole in it.  “On the other hand, maybe I’ll show you later,” he said noticing the sheriff’s frown, “when you’re in a better mood.”

He put the piece of paper carefully back in his pocket and went out the door.



The Kid and Heyes rode side by side.

“I’m serious about what I said,” the Kid told his partner.  “I think it’s a really good idea.”

“What idea?  Oh, you mean the museum about us?” asked Heyes.

“It doesn’t have to be just about us,” the Kid continued, “but an outlaw museum; a museum about the Wild West.  And there’s plenty of stuff we could put in it.  I just bet people would pay to see it, too – people from fancy big cities, maybe even from other countries.  There’s a lot of interest out there about the way we live.”

“Never,” smiled Heyes, “but keep dreaming, Kid.”




Translations

*“Genau wie ich dachte,” he muttered and then more loudly, “Ja, vos I tort.  
“Exactly what I thought, ” he muttered and then more louday, “Ja, vos I tort.


* *“Und warum sie konnten das nicht sofort sagen…,” mumbled the shopkeeper before smiling.  
“And why they couldn’t say that immediately…,” mumbled the shopkeeper before smiling.


* * * “Und naturlich steht er da wie ein Kartoffelsack, und wie kann ein Hut gut aussehen wenn er nur so lieblos aufgesetzt wird...”  He finished his adjustments and then beamed at Heyes.
“And naturally he stands there like a sack of potatoes, and how can a hat look good when it’s just shoved one...”  He finished his adjustments and then beamed at Heyes.


“What for?” demanded Curry impatiently.
* * * * “Ja, das kann doch gar nicht war sein, for vot?” repeated Mr Hott anxiously.
“Yes, that can’t be real, for what?” repeated Mr Hott anxiously.

* * * * * “Du meine Güte,” he muttered before addressing the partners again.  “But of course you must take a moment.  I understand natürlich.”
“My goodness (in the tone of what a fuss),” he muttered before addressing the partners again.  “But of course you must take a moment.  I understand natürlich.”


* * * * * * “Blödmann.  You are velcome, mein Herr,” smiled the shopkeeper watching him go out.  As soon as Curry was gone, the smile disappeared and he went over to the hat boxes and began packing them up again.  “Und Sie können mich auch mal...Was für eine Zeitverschwendung.  Unglaublich.  Die ganze Arbeit für schon wieder nichts…”
“Idiot.  You are velcome, mein Herr,” smiled the shopkeeper watching him go out.  As soon as Curry was gone, the smile disappeared and he went over to the hat boxes and began packing them up again.  “Yeah, and you me too.  What a waste of time.  Unbelievable.  And again, all that work for nothing…”




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