royannahuggins
Moderator
Posts : 510
Join date : 2013-10-13
 | | Decoys - Part 1 by Little Bluestem | |
 According to newspaper headlines and eyewitness accounts, the evidence from a string of stagecoach robberies point straight to Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry being in league with the Devil's Hole Gang. Have Heyes and Curry given up on the amnesty deal and returned to their old ways?Starring
Pete Duel and Ben Murphy as
Hannibal Heyes and as Kid Curry
Guest Starring
DeForest Kelley as Outlaw Leader
Steve McQueen as Lloyd Masters
Earl Holliman as Wheat Carlson
Dennis Fimple as Kyle Murtry
James Drury as Sheriff Lom Trevors
J.D. Cannon as Harry Briscoe
Martha MacIsaac as Lucy Pinkerton
Malcolm Barrett as the Bartender
Curtis Harris as Billy
Decoys – Part 1
by Little Bluestem
Teaser:
Setting: A ridgeline with a view to a trail winding through the canyon below. It is a lovely spring day, with brightly colored wildflowers blooming cheerfully, scattered amidst the sparse brush, bobbing gently in the gentle breeze beneath a deep blue sky embroidered with cottony white clouds. A stagecoach pulled by six horses comes into view, trotting around a bend. All seems peaceful until the driver suddenly hauls on the brakes with both hands to avoid a pile of boulders blocking the road. Then, seemingly from all directions, masked riders burst onto the scene, guns drawn. From the distance, we see the desperadoes in pantomime. The driver grabs a shotgun from the seat next to him and attempts to make a stand, but seeing he is woefully outnumbered, he soon drops the weapon and raises his arms in surrender. We can’t hear voices, but it is obvious by his gesticulations that he is arguing with them. Now one of the robbers dismounts and yanks open the door.
Hands held shakily above their heads, the passengers stumble out of the coach. First two very pretty young women, still in the bloom of youth, possibly sisters, as evidenced by their similar features. The elder one turns to help a frail looking old lady descend the steps. The younger one, defiant, is shouting something at the bandit who is nearest. As if swatting a fly, he clouts her against the side of the head and she crumbles. The elderly lady is seen to scold the outlaw while the other girl rushes to help the fallen one. Meanwhile a middle-aged woman clutching the hand of a small boy, maybe eight or nine years of age, climbs out.
Two more members of the gang dismount. But what is this? We can only see them from the back, but these two outlaws look very familiar. Both are tall and well-built, with broad shoulders and long legs. That one, the one in the tan leather vest and cornflower blue shirt -- are those sandy brown curls beneath the floppy brown hat? And the other, with buff-colored pants tucked into scuffed black boots, sporting a black cowboy hat with a silvery band, the one who seems to be ordering the others around -- slim and graceful as he gestures with gloved hand, it couldn’t be…...?
The passengers are now being ordered to stand aside, hands still held shakily above their heads. The younger girl is clutching the side of her head, supported by the older one. They all huddle together.
With the bandits’ attention on the passengers, the driver sees his chance. Surreptitiously, he withdraws a handgun from his boot. The Kid Curry look-alike whirls, drawing as he spins, and drills a hole into the man’s chest. From this distance, his face cannot be clearly seen. The driver slowly topples from the stage to the ground. The two young girls shriek and clutch each other. The middle-aged woman tries to cover her little boy’s eyes from the horrifying scene. The elderly woman begins to pray fervently.
“Nice shootin’, Kid,” snarls the Heyes look-alike. But that guttural snarl can’t possibly be Heyes’ voice!
“Let’s get the goods, Heyes,” answers the Kid look-alike gruffly in a harsh voice we also do not recognize, twirling his six-gun impressively and sliding it back into his holster. Slowly, menacingly, they advance on the vulnerable-looking passengers, hugging one another in terror.
Cut to Theme music and the well-known intro...
FADE UP ON:
A steamy bathhouse. Two galvanized tubs separated by a small wooden table hold our two favorite reformed outlaws, each submerged up to his chest in soapy bubbles, each with a big cigar clenched between his teeth and each scrubbing himself vigorously. We join them in mid-conversation...
“Heyes, I'm serious,” stated the Kid. “That’s the LAST time we ever join a cattle drive!”
“That’s what you said after Ten Strike, Kid.”
“This time I really mean it.”
“But you gotta admit, the pay was great! And now we can rest up here for at least a week -- soft beds, cold beers, and nice, hot baths…Aaaaaah!” Heyes sighed contentedly as he luxuriated in his sudsy, steaming bathtub.
“After this, I want a big steak dinner with all the trimmin’s!” Curry pronounced.
“Thought you had enough of cattle for a while,” smirked Heyes.
“Huh. I won’t have to pull it out of a ditch or follow behind it eatin’ the dust kicked up from its hooves.”
“Aah, I see. This will be a revenge meal,” cracked his partner, dimpling as he grinned merrily.
Their laughter was interrupted by the door opening. A neatly uniformed male attendant stepped into the room carrying a pile of fluffy white towels and a folded newspaper tucked underneath his arm.
“Your towels, gentlemen,” he said crisply, setting them on the small table between the two bathtubs. “And here is today’s newspaper as you requested, Mr. Smith. May I get you anything else?”
The attendant placed the folded newspaper closer to Heyes’ side of the table next to the stack of folded towels.
“Thanks, I believe we have everything we need,” answered Heyes.
“Yeah, thanks,” echoed Curry, removing his cigar momentarily, then placing it back into his mouth and puffing out a smoke ring. He leaned back in the tub and closed his eyes as he continued to puff.
“Very good, sirs,” replied the attendant. He bowed and departed the room, closing the door behind him as Hannibal Heyes dried his hands on one of the towels, then reached for the newspaper. He leaned back against the tub, settling in to read.
“So, let’s see what’s been happening in the world since we’ve been out of touch…” he began, opening the paper to the front page.
Abruptly Heyes sat bolt upright, sloshing water out of the tub. “Kid!” he exclaimed.
Kid Curry opened one blue eye warily. “What? What is it now, Heyes?”
The camera looks over Heyes’ shoulder so that the viewer can read what he is reading aloud:
“Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry
wanted in string of brutal stage-
coach robberies in Granite Pass.”
“What??” The Kid sat up straight, also splashing water out of his tub and letting the cigar fall unheeded from his mouth with a small plop.
“Listen to this,” Heyes continued reading.
“In the latest incident, the stage-
coach driver was murdered in cold
blood while a helpless family of
women and children looked on in
horror. The gang not only robbed
them of all their valuables, but also
stole the horses. The unfortunate
victims of the dastardly deed had
no choice but to walk a distance of
ten miles over rough terrain to the
nearest ranch to seek assistance.
An elderly member of the party
suffered from severe exposure and
is not expected to survive --”
He stopped reading abruptly and turned to his partner. “You know what this means, Kid?” he demanded.
“Yeah. It means I ain’t gonna get that steak dinner after all,” Curry groaned in resignation, reaching for a towel.
DISSOLVE TO:
Front desk of a hotel, behind which a male clerk is sorting through papers. The hands of the conveniently placed clock on the wall indicate it is now 3:54.
Heyes and Curry burst onto the scene. Their hair is damp along the edges. They are in obvious haste, saddlebags slung over their shoulders, still buttoning up their shirts.
As the clerk looked up, surprised, Heyes demanded, “When’s the next train to Laramie?”
“Leaving so soon, gentleman? Is there a problem?” inquired the hotel clerk.
“No, no, everything was great -- just a change of plans. We need to get to Porterville!” blurted Heyes.
“If you hurry, you can catch the 4:00 pm express,” answered the clerk, casting a skeptical glance at the clock next to him, now showing 3:55.
The boys each threw some money down on the counter and hustled out the door, leaving the bewildered clerk to gather it up and begin counting.
Accompanied by the distant sound of a train’s whistle, the hotel scene fades into the interior of a train in motion. Through the window we see the scenery passing by.
Kid Curry is in his typical train-riding position, leaning back in the seat, brown hat tipped over his eyes, arms folded across his chest.
“How can you sleep at a time like this?” Heyes stage-whispered to his partner in annoyance.
“I can’t,” came the terse reply from beneath the hat. “You keep talkin’ to me.”
“Listen to this one,” his partner insisted, ignoring the complaint. He began to read from the paper in a discreetly quiet, yet urgent voice:
“Notorious outlaws Hannibal Heyes
and Kid Curry have not been heard
from for over a year, when they
apparently turned their hands to
philanthropy in the town of Hadley-
burg, Colorado. Rumors have been
circulating that the two most
successful outlaws in the west had
retired from their lamentable lives
of crime. Several reports have sur-
faced suggesting that the fugitives
are living under assumed identities
in South America. Still others have
speculated that the once infamous
outlaws met their demise in the
town of Deadwood, in the Dakota
Territory. However, recent eye-
witness accounts prove without a
doubt that the desperadoes have
resumed their criminal association
with the Devil’s Hole Gang in
Wyoming Territory.”
Curry pushed his hat up with one finger and squinted at his partner from beneath the brim. He said calmly, “Relax, Heyes. There’s nothin’ we can do ‘til we get there. Stewin’ about it won’t help. Save your energy.”
Heyes ignored his partner’s advice and began to rant. “How could this happen? There goes our amnesty! We might as well take the train to Mexico, not Wyoming.”
“Come on,” Curry cajoled, “this ain’t our first rodeo. We’ve cleared our names before -- you haven’t forgotten August Binford, have you? And then there was that situation with Billy and Caleb -- and how about that incident in Red Gap with Powers and Fletcher? We can do it again, Heyes. I have faith in you. You’ll think of something.” With that, Curry placed the hat firmly back over his face.
Just then a young boy came down the train aisle selling newspapers. Heyes beckoned him over and bought one. As the boy continued down the aisle hawking his papers, Heyes opened his newest newspaper and began to read silently.
In less than a minute, he groaned quietly.
“Oh, it just gets worse and worse,” exclaimed Heyes, knocking Curry on the shoulder, who sighed heavily, pushed up his hat, and opened one wary eye. Once again, Heyes began to read aloud:
“In the past, the Devil’s Hole Gang,
led by Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry,
was known to prey solely on trains
and banks, never robbing ordinary
citizens, which lent the outlaws folk
hero status amongst the common
people. All that has changed given
the brutal nature of the recent attacks.
The despicable gang, once again led
by Heyes and Curry, has lain in am-
bush in Granite Pass, Wyoming
Territory, seeking out the most
vulnerable travelers, including the
elderly, families with young children,
and most especially, defenseless
women. A wagon train of missionary
sisters and a stagecoach carrying
mail-order brides were the most
recent victims.”
Heyes finally had Curry’s full attention. He sat up, outraged. “What!? What kind of sick folks go after women and children?!”
DISSOLVE TO:
Porterville train station. The train arrives in a cloud of smoke and steam. Before it even comes to a complete stop, our boys hop out and hustle along the platform, toting their saddle bags. The camera follows them as they hurry through the familiar streets of Porterville and approach a bench where two scruffy-looking men sit reading newspapers, the headlines of which blast the latest transgressions of Heyes and Curry. As the subjects of those headlines hurry past them, the readers lower the papers beneath their noses to watch the pair dash by. Even though the larger one is wearing a preposterous looking derby hat and steel-rimmed spectacles while the smaller of the two sports an eyepatch and an obviously phony mustache, they are immediately recognizable to faithful viewers as none other than… Wheat Carlson and Kyle Murtry.
Heyes and Curry stride past the bench purposefully, but then, simultaneously as is their wont, they stop and do a double take. Together, they walk back to their erstwhile gang members.
“Wheat? Kyle? That really you?” inquired Heyes.
“We’s in disguise,” said Kyle craftily, looking about to see if anyone else has noticed their presence.
“Heyes. Kid. We figured you’d come when you heard,” Wheat drawled, indicating the headline of the newspaper he holds. “What took you so long?”
“We just found out,” replied the Kid. “What are you two doin’ here?”
“Same thing as you,” the big outlaw replied. “We got to clear our name! The Devil’s Hole Gang don’t rob women and children. Fact is, we don’t even do banks no more, since -- well, since... here.” He gestured vaguely toward the Porterville Bank, visible in the background.
Kyle shrugged elaborately and grinned sheepishly as all eyes turned to glance at the bank’s stone edifice, repaired of course since the previous visit by their gang.
Wheat continued, “Now we specialize strictly in trains. And you know we ain’t killers! We got our reputation to protect. Matter a fact, with you two gone, I’ve become known as The Gentleman Bandit. See?” He pulled a slim dime novel from his back pocket and held it out. It was entitled Wheat Carlson, Gentleman Bandit, and the Devil’s Hole Gang Save the Orphan Train.
“Yeah, we’s famous now,” Kyle boasted, pointing to the book. “I’s on page 26,” he added proudly.
“The rest of the boys are over to the saloon. We was hopin’ you’d show up so’s we can help you catch these impostors. We’ve had to lay low seein’ as the last time we was in Porterville it didn’t go so good…”
“Hence the disguises?” queried Heyes, smirking just enough to show a glimpse of dimple.
“Yeah, Hence. Um... Yeah,” harrumphed Wheat.
“We’re on our way to meet with Lom now,” stated Heyes. “You fellas staying at the hotel?”
“Uh, naw,” answered Wheat, somewhat sheepishly. “We’re campin’ just about a mile north of town.”
“Gentleman Banditry don’t exactly pay so good,” Kyle added apologetically.
“Okay, we’ll find you later, after we’ve talked to Lom,” said Heyes.
CUT TO LOM'S OFFICE, INTERIOR:
As the boys pushed through the door to the sheriff’s office, Lom rose from his desk to greet them. “Heyes! Kid!” he exclaimed. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been tryin’ ro reach you for weeks! I telegraphed Clem, Silky, Soapy, Colonel Harper, Big Mac -- everyone I could think of! You two haven’t checked in for over a month.”
“Sorry, Lom. We were on a cattle drive. We came as soon as we heard,” explained Heyes.
“And Wheat and the boys are in town,” put in Curry. “They’re gonna help.”
“What has the governor said?” Heyes asked.
“Just what you’d expect. That if you don’t prove to him that this ain’t you by capturing the real culprits, then the deal is not only off, your rewards will be doubled. Not to mention they’re adding murder to the charges.”
“This is exactly what I said would happen when you first told us about this “deal” with the governor! That we were gonna get blamed for everything that goes wrong!” scoffed Curry.
“That isn’t helpful, Kid,” Heyes chided his partner. “What we need is a plan.” He turned his full attention to the sheriff. “Lom, tell us everything you know about the robberies.”
“Not so fast,” Lom cautioned. “The governor is sending in two Bannerman agents. They’ll be arriving on the 7:00 am train tomorrow morning. Before you go conjuring up one of your famous Hannibal Heyes Plans, let’s wait to hear what they have to say. Coffee?” The boys nodded and took seats in the two chairs in front of Lom’s desk as he turned to fill three mugs with the steaming brew.
As Lom poured, his back to the boys, Curry muttered under his breath, “Bannerman agents? He can’t mean…”
Heyes muttered back, “Nahh -- what are the odds?”
Lom handed them their cups, then took his own and sat down behind his desk. He swallowed a sip of coffee and began, “It all started about three weeks ago….”
FADE OUT
FADE UP ON:
The Porterville Train station early the next morning. Lom, Kid, and Heyes are waiting on the platform as the train pulls in. Among the crowd of passengers embarking the train is a mustachioed, grey suited, bandy-legged man sporting two sidearms on his hips. His close-set eyes squint as he searches the platform, then widen with recognition. Yes, dear viewer, stepping off the train is none other than our old friend, Harry Briscoe.
“Oh, no. Tell me I’m not seein’ what I think I’m seein’,” moaned Curry.
“I could do that, Kid, but it’d be a lie.”
Harry strode over to the trio, a broad smile on his face. Accompanying him was a petite brunette woman in a no-nonsense traveling suit carrying a small carpet bag.
“Smith! Jones! Thought I might find you here. And you must be Sheriff Lom Trevors.” Harry reached out to shake hands all around. “Harry Briscoe, Bannerman Detective. And this little lady is Miss Lucy Pinkerton, the Bannerman Agency’s first female detective.”
The “Little Lady” cleared her throat pointedly and glared at Briscoe.
Briscoe hastily amended his introduction. “I mean, this PERSON is my ASSOCIATE, Miss Lucy Pinkerton.”
Miss Pinkerton smiled with satisfaction and reached out to shake hands as Lom made introductions.
“Uh, this is Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones,” said Lom. “They know Granite Pass very well so I’ve brought them in as deputies.”
As they shook hands, Heyes inquired, “Miss Pinkerton?” emphasizing her surname.
The young woman replied in a clipped British accent, “Yes, your suspicions are correct, Mr. Smith. I’m Allan Pinkerton’s niece. He wouldn’t hire me himself lest he be accused of nepotism, but he did suggest to his friend and colleague, George Bannerman, that he lure me away from Scotland Yard where I’ve been working as a detective. Uncle Allan has been employing female Pinkertons for years. It’s about time Bannerman joined the 19th century.”
“And Bannerman himself handpicked yours truly as the agent to show her the ropes,” bragged Briscoe.
Just then a porter arrived, wheeling a cart carrying a large trunk.
“Miss Pinkerton, your trunk,” the porter announced.
The four men eyed the over-sized trunk and exchanged knowing smirks.
“I know what you’re thinking!” the owner of the trunk snapped. “Ladies and their luggage. I’ll have you know, these are my personal effects, gentlemen,” she hefted the small carpet bag. “That,” she continued, pointing to the trunk, “contains your disguises. Please deliver it to the hotel,” she directed the porter, tipping him with a few coins from her reticule.
“Disguises, huh?” Sheriff Trevors said with a look of intrigue. “Let’s go discuss your plan, Miss Pinkerton.”
Simultaneously, two voices, one feminine and one masculine, demanded, “Before breakfast?”
Kid’s head swiveled to look at the woman with surprise, which soon transformed into a nod of approval.
“Regular, nutritious meals, sufficient sleep, physical activity, and mental stimulation are the four pillars of a healthy body and mind,” Lucy Pinkerton pronounced, ticking the items off on her gloved fingers.
“Well, at least you prescribe to three out of four,” Heyes said to his partner with a twinkle. The Kid did not deign to reply, but rolled his eyes as the fivesome began to walk over to the cafe.
DISSOLVE TO:
INTERIOR OF CAFE - The party of five are seated around a large round table. A waitress is just walking away from the group, a pad of paper and pencil in hand.
As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Lucy began, “As you no doubt have heard, Heyes and Curry have been targeting –”
Heyes cut her off. “Excuse me, Miss Pinkerton. I hate to interrupt, but I really must point out that just because the newspapers say the bandits are Heyes and Curry, doesn’t mean they really are.”
“Nobody’s heard anything about those two for at least a year,” put in Curry.
“According to multiple eyewitnesses, the bandits themselves admit to being Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry!” Miss Pinkerton insisted.
“And them saying they are doesn’t mean they are either,” persisted Heyes.
“Alright then, Mr. Smith. I cede your point. The bandits CLAIMING to be Heyes and Curry have been targeting the weak and the defenseless. They lay their ambush in Granite Pass. We have already sent several decoy coaches with lawmen hidden within through the pass, but whenever there are several men aboard, the coaches are ignored. The gang descends from the ridge only when they identify weakness. Cowards,” she added scornfully.
“So, the plan is to send a decoy that looks weak,” surmised Heyes.
“Very good Mr. Smith. And what is perceived to be weak by these evildoers is women.”
“That’s where you come in,” observed the Kid.
“Yes, but not only me….” she trails off, her eyes sparkling just a bit mischievously.
CUT TO:
A hotel room with two matching beds. Clothing is spread out on both beds, the bureau, and two armchairs. The piles include dresses of many colors, corsets, petticoats, wigs, shoes, accessories, etc. The partners are pawing through them. Kid picks up a red dress and holds it up to himself dubiously.
“All these dresses are too small,” he complained. “And you ain’t gettin’ me to wear no corset!”
Heyes snatched the red dress from Curry. “Give me that. I’m slimmer than you are.” He held the bright frock up to his own body and checked the fit in the bureau mirror. “Here. This one looks to be larger,” he said as he picked up a blue dress and tossed it over to his partner. “Plus, it goes nicely with your baby blues,” he added impishly.
Said baby blues rolled as the Kid snagged the matching dress from mid-air and examined it critically.
“You are both a little taller than the average male,” sighed Lucy. “Which means you are very much taller than the average female. The only way this is going to be convincing is if we have a considerably taller driver. From a distance, the illusion should work.”
Just then the door to the room opened to admit Sheriff Trevors and Deputy Harker, all 6 feet 6 inches of him.
Lom made Introductions as Miss Pinkerton appraised the tall deputy.
“Deputy Harker, you’ll do just fine,” she pronounced approvingly. “Now if we just had one more fellow -- perhaps a littler one,” she speculated, holding up a bright green dress that was smaller than the others… Heyes and Kid exchanged a glance.
“We have just the fella for you,” Heyes grinned, dimpling.
Last edited by royannahuggins on Sat 20 Feb 2021, 12:23 am; edited 3 times in total | |
|
