Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem

Moderator Posts : 510 Join date : 2013-10-13

In an effort to salvage their reputations, as well as their amnesty, the real Heyes and Curry team up with Harry Briscoe, Lucy Pinkerton and members of the Devil's Hole gang. A Hannibal Heyes plan is put into action to end the stagecoach robbers' reign of terror.

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 2
by Little Bluestem

FADE TO:

THE NEXT DAY, HOTEL LOBBY – Heyes and Curry descend the staircase just as Lom Trevors enters through the front door.

“Have you heard from Hank yet?” asked Trevors.

“No. Nothing yet,” answered Heyes, as Curry shook his head.

As they spoke, the two Bannerman agents descended the stairs and, seeing the trio, walked over to them.

“Good evening, gentleman,” Miss Pinkerton said brightly. “We were just about to go into supper, would you care to join us? We can discuss the case while we dine.”

Soon they were seated around a table as a waiter approached and placed a basket filled with rolls and a saucer with a slab of butter on the table.

“How about a drink? Maybe Champagne for the table? I feel like celebratin’,” Harry chortled.

“Isn’t it a bit premature, Mr. Briscoe?” chided Lucy.

“We’re halfway there, Little – er, Miss Pinkerton,” he replied, stopping himself just in time. “And we’re gonna catch the rest soon, I can feel it.”

“Just a beer for me,” said Lom.

Heyes chimed in, “Yeah, a beer sounds good.”

“Make mine a cold one,” added the Kid.

“So that’s one Champagne and three beers,” the waiter said, then turned to Lucy. “And for the lady? May I suggest a nice glass of sherry?”

“Ooh, sherry sounds good,” interrupted Briscoe. “Change mine to sherry.”

“No thank you,” answered Lucy. “Just a cup of hot tea for me, please. I never drink when I’m on a case,” she explained. “I need to keep my mind clear.”

“Our special tonight is roast pork, potatoes, and greens,” suggested the waiter.

Everyone agreed that it sounded delicious.

As soon as the waiter departed, Lucy turned all business. “Has anyone heard from Hank?” she asked.

“Not yet,” answered Lom.

“So, what have you all done today? Let’s each report our findings. Sheriff?” She looked at Trevors expectantly.

“Aside from my usual duties,” he answered, “I’ve telegraphed the authorities in Cheyenne to send some guards with a transport vehicle to pick up the prisoners. They should arrive in a couple of days. My hope is that by then we’ll be able to fill it up with the whole gang. I also interrogated the prisoners again, but I didn’t get much outta them.”

“Is the leader still maintaining he is Hannibal Heyes?” she inquired.

“Yup. And I think his men all believe it, too. They even call him Hannibal.”

Everyone at the table except Heyes began to chuckle. He looked affronted at the idea.

“What? What’s the joke? Why is that funny?” Lucy demanded, looking around at the amused faces.

“Ya see, nobody – not even Kid Curry – calls Heyes ‘Hannibal’. They just call him Heyes,” explained the sheriff.

“And you know this … how….?” she pressed.

“You heard me yesterday tellin’ our prisoners I am personally acquainted with Heyes and Curry. I’m a man of my word,” stated Lom with dignity.

“I thought perhaps that was a ruse designed to draw him out,” Lucy observed.

“Ruse?” Kid asked around a mouthful of roll.

“Thaddeus, I’m sure you know there are many lawmen who believe it don’t count as lying when you break your word to a “lowdown, lyin’, theivin’ outlaw,” Heyes commented wryly.

“Well, in this case it’s the truth. I think you must have deduced by now, Miss Pinkerton, that I had, shall we say, a misspent youth? I fell in with bad companions, as the saying goes, but I changed my life around,” Trevors said.

“That’s admirable, Sheriff. I believe all men deserve a second chance.” She glanced briefly at Heyes and Curry, then asked, “Is that how you came to know Mr. Johnson and those other fellows as well?”

“Yup,” was the terse reply. As this seemed to be all Lom was willing to say on the subject, Lucy turned to her other dining companions. “And how do you happen to know one another, Mr. Briscoe? Mr. Smith? Mr. Jones?”

They were saved from answering the question by the arrival of the waiter with their drinks. Briscoe took a sip of sherry from a dainty little stemmed glass while the other men raised their mugs of beer thirstily. Lucy’s eyes sparkled merrily as she brought her teacup to her lips. Almost immediately, two waiters arrived with the food.

There was silence for a while as the diners dug into their meals. Heyes resumed the conversation, returning to the original subject. “We were talking about what everyone did with their day,” he turned to his partner. “Thaddeus, how did you spend your day?”

The Kid, caught in mid-bite, swallowed a mouthful of potatoes before answering. “Well, I had breakfast –” He looked over to Lucy for her nod of approval. “And then I practiced some shootin’, and then I cleaned my gun –” (another look of approval). “Then I borrowed a horse from the livery stable and went for a ride.”

“To look for clues?” queried Lucy.

“Uh -- yeah, to look for clues – but I didn’t find any. And then I took a nap.”

There was quiet laughter.

“Well, what did you do all day, Smartie Pants? Did YOU find any clues?” Curry challenged his partner.

Heyes smiled with amusement. “I stayed up late thinking about possible plans for defending the town. I have several strategies in mind. I do my best thinking at night,” he added, glancing Lucy’s way. Curry rolled his eyes at this, but his partner didn’t react. “This morning I slept late and skipped breakfast,” he continued, looking straight at his partner as he emphasized the part about breakfast. “Then I finished that book I’ve been reading, Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.” He looked back to Pinkerton who nodded in recognition. “And then, I played some poker,” he said a bit sheepishly. “Keeps the mind sharp,” he added quickly.

Harry spoke up. “Miss Pinkerton read a book all day, too.”

“Oh really, Miss Pinkerton? What are you reading?” Heyes asked curiously.

“I happen to have brought a criminal justice book with me that has several chapters pertaining to petty criminals who pretend to be other, more notorious criminals. It’s an interesting psychological phenomenon.”

“So why do they do it?” asked Lom.

“There are several theories, most involve a desire for notoriety.”

“I think they’re just lookin’ to get famous,” offered Curry. Ignoring his partner’s smirk, he added. “Helps get girls.”

“More like infamous,” tutted Pinkerton.

Heyes speculated. “Lobo said that Masters always wanted to be the fastest gun in the west. I think he became obsessed with the idea. But I guess nobody believed the Sweetwater Kid could be as fast as Kid Curry, so he decided to start saying he IS Kid Curry. Maybe he got his partner to pretend to be Heyes to help convince folks.”

“Very astute, Mr. Smith,” agreed Lucy.

“What about you, Harry?” asked Curry. “How did you spend your day?”

“I was, er, interrogating possible suspects.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I saw you doing that in the saloon today – at the other poker table,” cracked Heyes.

Everyone laughed at that, but Harry blustered on. “That’s a well-known tactic for finding valuable information.”

“And did you find any?” inquired Lucy.

“No. But I could have,” he insisted.

“Yeah, Harry, just like that time in the saloon when you were searching for “Sister” Isabel,” teased Heyes.

“That reminds me, we never finished our earlier conversation. Just how is that you gentlemen know one another?” inquired Miss Pinkerton. “Were you two ever Bannerman agents?”

“Us?” asked Curry, blue eyes widening.

“Not officially, no, but we’ve helped Mr. Briscoe on several important cases,” Heyes grinned. “In fact, when we first met, purely by coincidence, we helped him out of a really big jam.”

“But don’t forget, I helped you out of an even bigger jam,” put in Briscoe.

“No, Harry, I think your jam was a bit bigger. And then the second time we crossed paths, we helped you out of a much bigger jam,” Heyes reminded him. “Not to mention that THIRD much, much bigger jam.”

“But the last time we crossed paths, I helped you out of the biggest jam of all!” countered Briscoe.

“But at that same time –” began Heyes.

“Enough, enough!” interrupted Lucy. “I’m sorry I asked. Are you two done comparing the size of your ’jams’?”

“I guess you’d have to say that after all this time, we kinda see old Harry as a friend,” Curry offered generously, slapping Briscoe on the back.

A shyly pleased look crept across Harry’s face. “The feeling is mutual, Smith,” he said warmly.

“I’m Jones, he’s Smith,” Curry replied.

“Just testing you, Jones!” Harry blustered.

At this moment, a slim young woman approached the table. Loyal viewers will immediately recognize her as one of Porterville’s leading citizens, Miss Caroline Porter.

“Excuse me for interrupting –” the young banker began politely.

“Miss Porter,” said Lom, rising politely from his seat. The rest of the men hastened to join him.

Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Asj_1610

“Oh, please, do sit down, gentlemen. Hello, Lom. Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones, it’s such a pleasure to see you. I had heard you were in Porterville assisting Sheriff Trevors and the Bannermans.” She turned to the two strangers. “And you must be the Bannermans.”

Lom made the introductions. “This is Mr. Harry Briscoe and his associate, Miss Lucy Pinkerton. May I introduce Miss Caroline Porter. She runs the bank.”

Hands are shaken and pleasantries exchanged.

“How do you do, Miss Pinkerton? I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. When I heard there was a lady Bannerman agent in town I knew I just had to meet you! I was dining with my father and some of our business partners when I spotted you across the room. I do hope you don’t mind my interrupting your dinner?”

“We were pretty much finished anyway,” offered the Kid helpfully.

“Won’t you join us, Miss Porter?” Lucy asked. “We career women must stick together.”

“You probably want to talk about women things,” said Briscoe uncomfortably. “How’s about we menfolk excuse ourselves to the hotel bar for brandies and cigars and leave these little ladies to it?”

The “little ladies” looked annoyed, but Lucy agreed crisply. “Yes, why don’t you boys run along and talk about boy things.”

Dismissed, the four men made their exits and Miss Porter sat down eagerly.

“Please, call me Lucy. It is a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance. So, you run the bank, Miss Porter? That is most refreshing to hear.”

“Yes, Lucy, I do, and please call me Caroline. You see, my father founded this town and started the bank. He always hoped for a son, but little by little he realized a daughter was just as capable of running a bank. I’ve always shown a knack for numbers. When I was old enough, I became my father’s assistant. Eventually, he began to leave me in charge when he went away on business. Last year, he decided to retire and now I am the bank president.”

“Well done, you! And is it true that women in the Territory of Wyoming have achieved suffrage?”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Miss Porter proudly. “Maybe it didn’t happen for the right reasons, but why shouldn’t women have the vote? We make up half the population, after all. But please, tell me about yourself. How is it you became a detective?”

“Like you, I suppose it runs in the family. My uncle is Allan Pinkerton, of the Pinkerton agency. As a little girl, I was enthralled with his stories and I read everything I could get my hands on about criminals and solving crimes. Uncle Allan has been employing women for years. In fact, did you know that it was a female Pinkerton who saved your President Abraham Lincoln from an assassination attempt?” Seeing the look on her companion’s face, Lucy quickly amended, “The first attempt, that is. Unfortunately, she wasn’t on duty when John Wilkes Booth showed up. But Uncle Allan refused to hire me, lest he be accused of nepotism. So, I joined the Scotland Yard. They employ women largely as decoys, but I proved myself to my superiors time and again and eventually worked my way up to detective. I had to overcome a lot of prejudice from my male colleagues, even though I was more than equal to the work. You would not believe the harassment I endured.”

Caroline looked at her sympathetically. “Oh, I believe I would. It might not be overt, but some of the condescending comments I get at the stockholders’ meetings….”

The two women exchanged knowing nods.

“When I repeatedly appealed to Uncle Allan to change his mind, he recommended me to his associate, George Bannerman,” continued Lucy.

“I thought those two were rivals.”

“Oh, they most decidedly are. But they are also fast friends. They enjoy the competition, I expect. Like young boys in a football match.”

“Yes, all men are boys at heart,” Caroline opined wisely.

“Speaking of men, I see you are acquainted with Smith and Jones, Caroline?”

“Oh yes, quite well. They are most capable gentlemen, are they not? Did you know, despite his relatively young age, Mr. Jones is an expert in security?”

“Oh, really?”

“And Mr. Smith has quite a lot of experience in banking.”

“I’ll bet he does…”

“Oh yes. He knows everything there is to know about safes!”

“Safes, you say…?”

“Mmm-hmm. They both worked for me at the bank for a short while two years ago. They ended up foiling the most heinous bank robbery attempt!”

“Did they now?”

“Oh yes! The would-be robbers were never apprehended, but Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones forced them to return all the stolen money!”

“Never apprehended?”

“No, unfortunately, but due to Mr. Smith's and Mr. Jones’ bravery, we got all the money back! It was a good thing, too because there were all those repairs to the bank – after the explosion, of course. But if it weren’t for them, the bank would never have recovered from the loss. Yes, indeed, they are two of the bravest, most honorable gentlemen I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. It’s no wonder that Lom has deputized them to help him catch Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.”

“And yet, Smith and Jones insist that the criminals are NOT Heyes and Curry.”

“Well, whoever they really are, they’ve caught one already and I feel confident that they’ll soon capture the other one.”

“And what about Mr. Johnson and the other fellows. Are you acquainted with them as well?”

“No, I can’t say that I am, but I am sure if they are friends of Thaddeus and Joshua, then they are good, decent, honorable men.”

FADE TO:

HOTEL ROOM, THAT NIGHT – Heyes and Curry are each lying in one of the beds, moonlight is streaming through the lace curtains that waft gently in a soft breeze. They are still awake.

Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Asj_1710

“Ya think Harry has said anything to Lucy about us?” wondered Kid.

“Nah. Harry knows we have too much on him to blab. He wouldn’t chance it.”

“But you know Harry, he could've let somethin’ slip by accident, somethin’ to make her suspicious.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I dunno. Sometimes she just looks at me funny.”

“Kid, all women tend to look at you funny. I don’t think it’s anything to do with you being Kid Curry.”

“Very funny, Heyes,” Kid retorted, chucking his pillow at his partner. It whapped him in the face.

“Thanks, Kid. This pillow is much nicer than mine.” Heyes snuggled into his bed with both pillows.

Curry, lying flat on his back with no pillow at all now, called out, “Come on Heyes, give it back.”

“Here.” Heyes tossed his own pillow at his partner. “You can have mine.”

Kid caught the pillow and placed it beneath his head. It was indeed woefully flat, causing him to lie on the bed just as if he had no pillow at all.

“G’night, Kid,” called Heyes innocently, closing his eyes as he rested his head on the fluffier of the two pillows.

FADE TO:

HOTEL PORCH, THE NEXT MORNING – Heyes and Curry step out onto the veranda. Harry is sitting in a rocking chair, smoking a big cigar, looking self-important. There is a sound of distant gunfire.

The Kid raised an eyebrow speculatively. Noticing, Harry explained, “Oh, that’s just the little Bannerman lady. She’s out back practicing her shooting.”

Curry immediately looked interested. Heyes shot his partner a knowing glance.

“Can’t let a lady shoot alone, now, can I?” asked Kid as he trotted down the steps and headed down the walkway between the hotel and the mercantile next door.

As Curry follows the path into the woods behind the hotel the gunshots get louder. Now our point of view changes so we see Lucy from the front, shooting at tin cans on a log. The Kid emerges from the foliage in the background just behind her and stands with arms crossed against his chest watching. She is good; not as fast as our Kid, of course, but very accurate.

Once she’d emptied her gun, Curry cleared his throat. Miss Pinkerton turned to see who had arrived.

“Not bad, ma’am,” Curry commented, impressed.

“Thank you, Mr. Jones. I’ve been practicing. Trying to level the playing field,” Lucy said as she strode across the open area to the log.

“Ma’am?” Curry replied, following her.

Lucy stopped and turned to explain. “It is my considered opinion that women are equal to men in intelligence, in fact, many are more so. It is only the sheer physical strength of men that enables them to remain the dominant gender. I believe prowess with firearms puts me on an equal footing with any man, despite my smaller stature.”

Kid nodded, noncommittally.

“You seem skeptical,” Lucy persisted as together they picked up the cans and began to arrange them once more on the log. “The human body is capable of extraordinary things, Mr. Jones, with sufficient practice. Just last year, one of my cases involved a traveling circus that was visiting London. Those performers could accomplish amazing feats of physical agility! During the investigation, I became acquainted with contortionists, acrobats – men and women with remarkable skills – and they had the same basic equipment all of us has: the human body. Of course, most of them began their training at a considerably tender young age, which certainly plays a significant factor. I might practice those tricks every day, but I will never attain quite the facility of the acrobats I met.”

“I started shootin’ at age six,” Curry commented. He tossed one of the tin cans into the air, spun around on his heel in a complete 360-degree circle, whipped out his Colt, and fired off three shots in rapid succession while the can was still airborne. When it hit the dirt, he picked it up and held it against the sun. The rays streamed through three neat holes, lined up side by side.

Lucy took the perforated can from him, examined it, then smiled up at him. “Why Mr. Jones, are you showing off?” she teased.

“Uh, no ma’am,” Curry replied, poker-faced. “Just providin’ some more evidence to support your theory.” Then he grinned a wide Kid Curry grin, one that crinkled up his blue eyes.

“Mr. Jones, I am a hard-boiled detective. I am quite immune to your charms,” Lucy said primly, but a slight smile played at the corner of her lips.

“Well, guess I'd better keep practicin’!”

Just then Heyes entered the clearing to see the two looking at each other flirtatiously. He raised one eyebrow, then cleared his throat. Lucy turned immediately, a bit flustered, while Kid grinned broadly at his partner.

“Sorry to interrupt your … shooting practice,” Heyes began, “but Hank just got back. Lom wants everyone in his office in ten minutes to hear his report.”

Lucy immediately made her farewells and disappeared hastily down the trail. Heyes watched her depart, then turned to look at the Kid. “She’s not the kind of girl you usually go for, Kid,” he commented. “I mean, she’s pretty enough. And she is a strong supporter of breakfast. She's also handy with a gun, but those traits aren't usually high on your list of qualifications.”

“Come on! I ain’t fallin’ for her!” Curry protested. “She’s real bossy and she thinks she knows everything. But ya gotta admit, she’s real smart. But awful proddy and always with her nose in a book – Wait, I’ve got it! She’s the female version of YOU!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment – I think,” Heyes, grinned. “After all, you do like me, don’t ya?”

Curry gave his partner the look he reserved for moments such as this, to which Heyes responded with an even wider grin.

The Kid huffed out a sigh. “Well, it don’t matter anyway. Nothin’ could come of it. She’s got her career as a Bannerman woman and we’ve still gotta get our amnesty. If the governor ain’t impressed by this one, Heyes, I don’t think he’s ever gonna give it to us…that is, IF we pull it off.”

“Of course, we’ll pull it off!” Heyes exclaimed confidently. “Have a little faith, Kid!”

Curry looked pensive for a moment, then ventured, “Heyes, I’ve been thinkin’…”

“Now, Kid, about our arrangement…” teased his partner.

“Seriously, what if we DON’T prove these guys ain’t us? What if we just let Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry…” He left the sentence hang.

“Die?” finished Heyes. “Go to trial, get found guilty… get hung?”

“You’ve been thinkin’ about this too?”

“I have. And with Heyes and Curry officially dead, we could become Smith and Jones permanently. No reward on our heads. No posses chasing us. We could just… live our lives.” He paused and looked seriously at his partner, then added, “It would be the easiest thing to do.”

“But then…”

“Yeah, but then we go down in history as the worst kind of low-down, murdering cowards.”

“That’s what I keep comin’ back to. Even though our folks are gone, what would they think? It just don’t sit right with me, not clearin’ our names…”

Heyes nodded slowly. They shared a look, each reading the other’s thoughts. Finally, Heyes spoke, confirming the decision that had just been made, “So we go through with this thing? We clear our names? We keep going for the amnesty? Even though it would be easier to just...quit.”

Kid paused thoughtfully, then stated with conviction, “Yep. Since when did we ever do anything the easy way?”

A wide grin spread across Heyes’ face. He slapped his partner on the back affectionately, saying, “Come on then, let’s go hear what Hank has to say.”

Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Asj18_10

FADE TO:

LOM TREVORS' OFFICE – Where the entire group is crowded around Hank. We join them mid-conversation.

“How many?” asked Lom.

“Only five men, not includin’ Lloyd, or me and Lobo,” replied Hank.

“And what is he planning? Is Lobo in on it?” asked Briscoe.

“Lobo says he’s definitely plannin’ on stormin’ Porterville, talks about it constantly. Says he’ll shoot up the whole place, show no mercy, gets on a regular rant about it, but he ain’t said nothin’ about what day or what time. Lobo thinks he’s waitin’ on purpose, tryin’ to get the townspeople all up in a tizzy,” explained Hank.

“We could stop him for sure,” maintained Heyes. “Even if you don’t add in all the able-bodied men in this town, we here in this room outman him. We can hide the women and children someplace safe, then lie in wait, even put shooters on the roofs.”

“But he knows we can’t keep up the defense indefinitely,” offered Lucy. “We can’t stay vigilant 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Eventually, we’ll burn out. It’s just like the siege of Kenilworth Castle in the 1200s. Henry III didn’t let up. After five months, the food ran out, disease spread and the rebels surrendered. Masters will do the same thing.”

“You’re not suggesting this will last five months?” Sheriff Trevors' brow furrowed.

“No, but he’s trying to wear us down. He’ll wait until the townspeople are exhausted by all this. That’s when he’ll strike.”

“Maybe we could lure him into town somehow – get him to show up when we want him to come, so we can be ready,” suggested Curry.

“I’ve got it!” Heyes snapped his fingers and jumped up from his seat. “Hank, whattaya say you go ask to join the gang as well. You can say you’re a pal of Lobo’s and you’ve been on his trail, hoping to join up with him. You can let it slip that you heard the town’s fixing to hang his partner. Do you think he’d believe you?”

“Don’t see why he wouldn’t,” Hank shrugged. “He ain’t never seen me before, and he ain’t got no reason to be suspicious.”

“Alright, you tell him this. You say you heard people talking in the saloon. They said the town judge conducted a trial, found Hannibal Heyes guilty, and sentenced him to hang. You’ll give him the date and time that we tell you. If he’s a true partner, he’ll try to stop the hanging.”

TWO DAYS LATER – A long shot of the white clapboard church, which is situated on a slight rise above the rest of the town, topped by a tall wooden steeple with a brass bell glinting in the bright, clear morning sun. From a slight distance, we see the slim figures of Miss Porter and Miss Pinkerton near the front doors, conversing. A large wooden crate sits on the ground between them. They shake hands and Miss Pinkerton turns to walk down the path back into town. She nods in greeting as she passes a large group of grim-faced women holding babies and leading small children by the hand as they wind their way up the path toward the church. Older children walk or run along with them.

The camera follows the group of women and children. When they reach the church, Miss Porter opens the wooden crate and hands out rifles and boxes of bullets to several of the women as they file past. There is a man bringing up the rear, propelling a young boy in front of him. It is the saloon keeper and his son Billy, whom we have met earlier. Billy is literally dragging his feet and protesting loudly.

“But Pa, I’m almost twelve! I don’t wanna go hide in the church like a baby. I wanna help you and the men defend the town.”

“I’m sorry, son, these people are killers. I’m not prepared to take that risk,” the saloon keeper replied.

Overhearing their conversation, Caroline picked up the last rifle and stepped over to the pair. She offered it to the boy, saying, “Oh Billy! Thank goodness you’re here. We need someone strong and brave like you to protect the women and children.”

Billy immediately straightened up and accepted the rifle from her. His father caught the young banker’s eye gratefully as she led the lad into the church, following the others.

FADE TO:

INTERIOR OF CHURCH – There is a flurry of activity as Miss Porter directs her small army into position. Several women escort the children and elderly down a flight of stairs into the cellar. Armed women take their place in windows and start to load their guns. Two teenage girls are given instructions and a set of binoculars by Miss Porter. They nod happily, then scamper up the stairs to the bell tower. One positions herself at the rope while the other leans out the window, scanning the horizon through the binoculars.

Billy, looking important, heads for a window, but a stern, grandmotherly type cuts him off. Obviously scolding him, she takes the rifle from the boy and, despite his protests, shoos him back down the cellar with the rest of the children, while she takes his place in the window.

The camera’s view passes through the window and pulls back. We see the elderly woman peering through the window holding her confiscated rifle to her shoulder. The camera pulls back for a crane shot, bringing the entire church into view, the barrels of guns held by feminine hands protruding from every window and the two sentries in position in the tower. As the shot widens, we see the entire town from above.

A hastily constructed gallows, its pine boards pale and raw in the sunlight, stands in the town square.

Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Asj_1910

A small throng of onlookers is gathered in front of it. A closer look reveals that every onlooker is a man -- an able-bodied man with a gun strapped to his hip or stuck into his waistband. A very observant person might notice several figures up on the rooftops. Crouching behind the false fronts of the mercantile, the hotel, and the saloon, each cradling a rifle, are Kyle, Wheat, and Preacher.

CUT TO: Interior shot of the church cellar. There, Miss Caroline Porter is keeping a large number of women, children and elderly calm. Billy, among the children, looks anxious and uncomfortable.

CUT TO: Bell tower. The girls are still in position, one peering through the binoculars, the other manning the rope. Suddenly, the lookout spots riders on the horizon and signals the other, who hauls on the rope with her full might. The church bell clangs noisily.

CUT BACK TO: The town square. As the church bells fade out, the jail door opens and the recognizable face of Harry Briscoe emerges. He is wearing a long black judge’s robe and carrying a Bible.

Behind him marches a man in western attire with a black hood over his head, his hands bound behind his back, his face hidden. He is flanked by deputy Harker and Sheriff Lom Trevors. Each grasps the condemned man by one arm and guides him up the wooden steps, trailing behind “Judge” Briscoe.

The camera pulls back to show the entire main street. Flattened against the wall of one side street is Kid Curry. Hidden behind the water trough is Miss Lucy Pinkerton. And riding slowly into the edge of town are seven riders, the Sweetwater Kid in the lead, his men trotting behind. Lobo and Hank ride with them.

“Okay, men,” ordered the gang leader, “as soon as my partner’s safe, you start shootin’. Spare no one. We’re gonna teach this town a lesson they ain’t never gonna forget.”

“Judge” Harry Briscoe pronounced in a booming, overly theatrical tone, “Hannibal Heyes, you have been judged by a jury of your peers and found guilty to the heinous crimes of assault, robbery, and cold-blooded murder and have been sentenced to hang by the neck until dead. Let us pause to say a prayer to the Almighty God for your immortal soul.”

“Our Heavenly Father,” the faux judge intoned as he gazed heavenward -- or perhaps more toward the roof of the saloon, where a black-clad preacher flashed him a thumbs up signal.

Harry hastily finished the prayer with an abrupt, “Amen,” which was echoed by the surrounding townsfolk, who even as they mouthed the word were seen to take sidelong glances up the Main Street.

As Lom Trevors placed the noose around the condemned man’s neck, the judge asked, “Do you have any last words before we carry out your sentence?”

The hooded figure shook his head in the negative direction.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

The riders whipped their horses into a gallop. The trapdoor sprang open and the hooded figure began to fall. Suddenly, a shot rang out and the rope snapped in two. The man about to be hanged plunged through the trapdoor.

As gunfire erupted throughout the square, the “judge” threw his long robes aside and drew his sidearms two-handed and began firing bullets into the approaching group of horsemen.

The rooftop snipers aimed and shot, and two riders pitched off their mounts into the dusty street. One lay still, while the other, bleeding from the shoulder, crawled beneath the nearest boardwalk.

The onlookers dove for cover, drawing their guns in the process and joining in the melee.

THE CAMERA CUTS TO: The interior of the jail where the fake Heyes and his gang members try vainly to see what’s happening, but try as they might, they cannot reach the high, barred window.

CUT TO CHURCH CELLAR: Women and children are huddled together and the muffled sound of gunfire can be heard. Close-up on Billy’s face. He looks around him. Nobody is looking his way, everyone distracted by the gunfire, children crying, women comforting them. A determined expression on his face, Billy surreptitiously rises from his place and inches his way to the staircase. After one last look, he dashes up the stairs and out the door of the church. The camera follows him as he runs down the hill, then through the alley and into the back door of the dimly lit, empty saloon. He crawls behind the bar and reaches up beneath it, where there is a sawed-off shotgun tucked away.

CUT TO: The space underneath the gallows platform, where the almost-hanged man is seen to have landed on a conveniently placed straw tick mattress. He pulls his hands free from what appears to be a slipknot and rips the black hood from his head and the noose from his neck. It is the real deal, our own Hannibal Heyes. In a crouch, he approaches a crack in the structure and peeks out just in time to see three of the surviving gang members and their leader dash into the saloon. A fusillade of bullets erupts through the batwing doors.

The melee continues.

When there is finally a lull, Lom Trevors peeks out from behind the gallows where he has taken refuge. Hannibal Heyes is now by his side, his back against the platform, reloading hastily.

Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Asj_2010

“Ya might as well give up! We got you surrounded!” Lom shouted.

A loud voice emanated from inside the saloon. “I’m Kid Curry. I’m the fastest gun in the west. You let my partner go or we’re gonna shoot up this whole town!”

Lom yelled back, “You ain’t Kid Curry. I know the real Kid Curry and you ain’t him.”

Everyone in town aimed their guns at the front of the saloon.

CUT TO SALOON, INTERIOR: Billy crouches behind the bar, now clutching the abbreviated shotgun, a determined yet frightened look on his face. The outlaws can be seen conferring with one another, silhouetted against the front window, backlit in the semi-darkness.

Unseen, Billy rose to his feet, hefted the shotgun, and took aim, squinting at his target. Slowly, he squeezed the trigger. The ensuing blast was deafening, its force blowing the boy’s whole body backward, causing his careful aim to go awry. Shards of glass spattered the boardwalk as the large plate-glass window shattered into a million pieces. Billy lay sprawled on the floor, stunned for a moment. Before he could recover his senses, a large hand grasped his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. Billy found himself face to face with one of the outlaw gang members.

“Kid – Kid!” the man yelled to the front of the saloon. “Lookee what I found. This place is full of rats!” He dragged the reluctant boy toward his leader.

“Hang onto him,” instructed Masters as he reloaded his pistol. “That rat is gonna come in real handy.”

Then a deep voice boomed from outside, “This is Sheriff Lom Trevors. You’re surrounded and outnumbered. Throw your guns out the window and come out with your hands up.”

CUT TO EXTERIOR: VIEW OF THE SALOON DOOR – ALL IS SILENT FOR A BEAT.

Suddenly, the Sweetwater Kid appeared, bursting through the batwing doors onto the boardwalk, holding a squirming Billy in front of him with one arm around his neck, the other pressing the barrel of his Colt to the boy’s head. The outlaw grinned maniacally. One of his men stepped out from behind him, holding a pistol in one hand and Billy’s sawed-off shotgun in the other. He stepped just to the side of Masters, grinning confidently as he casually aimed both weapons in the general direction of the crowd.

The men in the streets gasped and murmured to each other, some of them lowering their guns hesitantly, but many still brandishing them.

The saloon owner yelled frantically, “Billy! Don’t hurt my boy!”

“Hold your fire!” shouted Lom. “Hold your fire!”

Kid Curry, his gaze steely blue, lowered his gun slowly. Without taking his eyes off his doppleganger holding the hapless boy hostage, he began to sidle toward the corner of the saloon building. At the same time, Lucy Pinkerton was inching her way toward the other side of the saloon. Each disappeared down the small walkways on either side of the saloon.

CUT TO ALLEY VIEW: Curry appears from one side as Lucy rounds the corner on the other side. Each has their back to the wall. They notice each other. She looks at him questioningly, cutting her eyes to the back door of the saloon. Curry nods and she nods back. They work their way to the back door, one from each side. Upon reaching the door, they nod to each other again. They enter stealthily, taking turns covering each other, one standing sentry while the other creeps forward, then vice-versa.

CUT BACK TO FRONT OF SALOON:

Lom stepped behind the gallows to rejoin Heyes, who remained out of sight of the outlaws. After a whispered consultation, Lom stepped back into view.

“Alright! Alright! You win! I’ll bring your partner. Just hang on -- I gotta get him out – he’s still inside the scaffold,” the lawman lied. He ducked back around the corner to Heyes, who had pulled the hood back over his head. He tucked his Schofield into the waistband of his pants and held his hands together behind his back as Lom hastily, but loosely, retied the ropes around them.

“This better work,” Lom mumbled as he tied the knots. “That Kid is good – he shot right through the rope!”

“Don’t worry, Lom,” Heyes grinned. “Our Kid is better. Besides, we sawed that rope almost all the way through. For all we know he missed the rope entirely and my weight alone was enough to snap it!”

“Just be careful, Heyes,” Lom whispered urgently as he led Heyes out onto the street.

A hush fell over the crowd as all eyes watched the small procession. Lom stopped in the middle of the main street directly in front of the saloon, gun in his right hand, left hand gripping the hooded Heyes’ upper arm. The Sweetwater Kid, aka Lloyd Masters, stood on the boardwalk, the batwing doors just behind him, holding a terrified Billy in a choke hold with his left arm, his right hand holding the Colt pressed to the boy’s temple. A huge grin wreathed his face at the sight of his “partner.”

“You alright, Heyes?” he called out.

The real Heyes nodded his head up and down, lowering his voice to shout gruffly, but somewhat muffled by the hood, something that sounded like, “Yes, I’m fine. I knew you’d come for me.”

“Let the boy go, Masters!’ hollered Lom.

Masters blinked at the use of his real name, but then swiftly recovered his cocky manner. After only a moment’s hesitation, he shouted back, “That’s right, Sheriff! I’m Lloyd Masters, otherwise known as the Sweetwater Kid! I’m the fastest gun in the west! Faster even than Kid Curry!”

Meanwhile, inside the dim saloon behind him, the real Kid Curry skulked behind tables, working his way through the room to the two armed outlaws stationed inside, who were standing just out of view of the townspeople in the street, holding their guns pointed towards the broken front window. Alongside him was the first female Bannerman agent, Miss Lucy Pinkerton. They reconnoitered silently, communicating with hand signals, each choosing their target. Lucy held up three fingers, then two, then one, and they both crept forward.

Almost simultaneously, the sounds of two cocked pistols were heard and the cold steel of two pistol muzzles were pressed against the backs of two outlaw necks. The men were quickly and quietly disarmed, gagged, bound, and dragged behind the bar. Masters, busy shouting back and forth to Lom, was none the wiser. Curry pantomimed that he would take on the leader next, but Lucy grabbed his arm and shook her head vigorously, mouthing. “No! Wait.” Kid reluctantly stood down, and both continued to watch the unfolding scene intently, crouched in the shadows.

“A deal’s a deal, Masters,” Lom yelled. “I brought your partner, now you let go of Billy!”

“You must think I’m really stupid,” rejoined Masters. “As soon as I let this brat go, you’re gonna shoot me. Not happenin’. We’re all gonna ride outta here and I’ll leave the kid a couple miles outta town.”

“No,” said Lom firmly. “That’s not how this is gonna happen.”

“Then drop your gun, Sheriff! I mean it!” the gunman shouted menacingly, giving poor Billy a little shake. Lom carefully set his gun on the ground.

“Kick it away,” Masters commanded.

Lom kicked his gun.

“And all them too,” demanded Masters.

Lom gestured to the townspeople behind him. Some put their weapons down immediately, while others hesitated.

“Put ‘em down,” pleaded Billy’s father in desperation. “That’s my boy he’s got there!”

One by one the men set their guns down. Masters jerked his head slightly at his compatriot, and ordered, “Jake, make yerself useful and collect up them guns.” The outlaw called Jake scrambled out into the street and began to gather the discarded weapons.

“And you fellas on the roof up there!” hollered Masters. “Throw ‘em over the edge or I swear I’ll shoot this brat right here, right now.”

Another gesture from Lom. Kyle and Wheat, from their perches atop the bank and hotel, dropped their guns with a clatter into the street below. Meanwhile, Preacher, ensconced atop the saloon, took careful aim at the outlaw Jake, who busily collected discarded guns. The black-clad outlaw looked to Lom for the go-ahead, but a subtle shake of the sheriff’s head prompted him to lower his rifle.

“Okay, Masters, we’ve done everything you’ve said, now let the kid go,” Lom said in a calm, reasonable voice.

“Untie my partner,” Masters demanded.

Lom untied Heyes’ hands, who, staying in character, gave the lawman a little shove before beginning to walk slowly toward Masters, reaching up to tug at the black hood covering his head. As he dragged the hood off, he contrived to stumble, lowering his head and keeping his face obscured.

Masters kept his grip on Billy. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Heyes, now literally at his feet, peered up at him through the fall of bangs across his forehead and, smiling innocently, said, “Hiya, Kid.”

“You ain’t my partner!” snarled Masters, furious.

“Nope. He’s mine,” said a cold voice from behind him. “And this has gone on long enough. Let Billy go. Now.” The sentence was punctuated by the ratcheting noise of a Colt .45 being cocked.

“I second that, partner,” agreed Heyes, pulling his Schofield from the back of his waistband and leveling it at the gang leader. “Do what he says, Lloyd.”

Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Asj_2110

“I’ll shoot him, I swear!” Masters insisted. “You can kill me, but this boy dies too. Griff! Zeke! Where are you? Come shoot this yahoo behind me!” he hollered.

“I’m afraid Griff and Zeke can’t help you. They’re both takin’ a little nap right now,” the steely voice behind him replied.

“You sniveling coward,” said another voice, a decidedly feminine voice with a decidedly British accent. “Hiding behind a poor defenseless child. What kind of a man does that?” Lucy scoffed as she stepped into view, her voice dripping with scorn.

“That ain’t fair,” whined Masters. “If I let this kid go, you’re gonna shoot me down like a dog.”

“Tell ya what,” the Kid said. “You claim you’re fast. I ain’t so bad myself. Whattaya say I put my gun in my holster? You let the boy go. And then we draw. You and me. Fair and square.”

A glimmer of hope shone in Master’s face. “First, you come on out from behind me,” he ordered. “You and that lady friend of yours and anybody else you got back there. Hands up, nice and slow. And you,” he motioned to Heyes, “you put that gun down on the boardwalk nice and easy and get back out there in the street.”

Heyes complied, gently placing his gun on the boardwalk and slowly backing up, one step at a time, down the wooden steps and into the main street below.

Jake scooted over and scooped up Heyes’ Schofield, which he added to his growing pile of firearms. He looked at his boss expectantly, one gun in each hand, pointing in the direction of the men gathered in the street.

Curry and Lucy carefully inched their way around Masters and onto the boardwalk, Lucy holding her pistol aloft in one hand, Kid with both hands in the air, his Colt back in its holster.

“Gun down, Lady,” Masters ordered. Lucy set it down on the wooden boards and stepped warily to the side.

“So, we settle this in a fair fight?” Masters sneered at the man in front of him.

The Kid nodded mutely, his face a mask.

“It’s only fair to warn ya! I’m the fastest gun in the west,” the outlaw boasted.

“So I’ve heard,” Curry answered dryly.

At long last, Masters released his grip on Billy. The boy bolted across the street like a jackrabbit and launched himself into the welcoming arms of his father, who clung to him tightly, both sobbing with relief.

Everyone – Lom, Harry, Lucy, Kyle and Wheat from the building tops on the other side of the street, the townsmen, Hank and Lobo among them, Preacher up on the saloon roof – watched with bated breath as the scene in the street unfolded.

The two Kids faced off about 10 feet apart. Heyes positioned himself in his usual spot – just behind and slightly to the right side of his partner, despite the fact that he himself was unarmed.

Preacher, the only person still armed, besides the two Kids, attempted to draw a bead on Masters, but just as he started to take aim, the bulky form of Deputy Harker stepped into his line of fire. Preacher lowered his gun, took a slug of whiskey from his pocket flask, and began to pray aloud, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me…”

The two adversaries adopted the practiced stance of seasoned gunfighters, legs slightly apart, shoulders squared, arms hanging loosely at their sides. Blue eyes stared into blue eyes. One man’s expression was cocky and arrogant, the other steady and calm. The tension built until the moment felt like an eternity.

Picture #22 – gunfighter stance

Suddenly, the Sweetwater Kid reached, sliding his gun from its leather holster.

But in a blur of motion, our own Kid Curry’s gun leapt into his hand and a single shot rang out, followed almost instantaneously by a metallic ping.

Masters cried out as his pistol flew from his grip and dropped to the dusty road, bent and ruined.

A deep, roaring cheer erupted from the townspeople.

Curry continued to stare down his adversary, ready to fire a second shot into flesh if need be.

Masters’ eyes suddenly widened, focusing on something just behind the Kid’s shoulder. Curry whipped around. The wounded outlaw, the one who had been hiding beneath the boardwalk since the beginning of the assault, was now standing just behind Heyes, leveling his gun at his back. In a flash, Curry fired a bullet into the man’s right shoulder, matching the injured one on the left.

Masters took advantage of this momentary distraction to bend over and pull a hidden gun from his boot and trained it on the Kid, who was still facing his partner.

Heyes shouted, “Thaddeus!”

Curry spun back around, his Colt leveled at Masters. He squeezed the trigger only to hear it click impotently on an empty chamber.

A single shot rang out.

Masters stood dumbly for a moment. The hand grasping his gun fell limply to his side and the weapon slipped out of his fingers. He looked down at his chest, where a crimson stain spread across his shirt like an unfolding blossom. He looked up again, puzzled, first at the Kid, then with dawning realization at Lucy, who stood on the boardwalk still holding her smoking British Bull Dog, the tiny but powerful gun she kept in her garter. The mortally injured gunslinger dropped to his knees as if in slow motion. Then he toppled forward, face-first into the dirt.

Jake watched his leader’s demise in disbelief, then turned tail and rabbited into the walkway next to the saloon. With a few long strides, Deputy Harker followed close behind. They re-emerged almost immediately, the big man pinning the smaller one’s arms behind his back as he frog-marched him out of the alley. After a moment of stunned silence, the townspeople again erupted into even louder cheers than before.

Curry turned back to his partner, an unspoken question in his eyes. Heyes nodded and smiled in response, then both men looked over to Lucy, who was still holding the little pistol and staring at the crumpled body in the road. Lom leaned over it, checking for signs of life. He looked up, grim-faced.

“Is he…?” Lucy began.

Lom nodded his head.

Townspeople began to crowd around, some trying to get a closer look at the dead outlaw, others slapping the Kid on the back and marveling at his fast draw, while still others were grabbing Lucy’s hand and pumping it up and down or patting her on the back. Everyone was talking at once.

“That was some fine shootin’, little lady! Now I know why Bannerman hired a lady detective!”
“Mr. Jones, I ain’t never seen anyone draw that fast.”
“In all my born days, I’ve never seen such a sight…”
“Now that was fast! Did you see that?”
“Let me shake your hand!”

Harry Briscoe pushed his way through the crowd and put his arm proprietorially around the young Bannerman agent. “Taught her everything she knows,” he boasted.

Lucy, in a daze, did not respond to the accolades. She looked down at her hand as if she were surprised to see she was still holding the tiny gun. Her brown eyes, swimming with unshed tears, sought out Curry’s blue ones among the throng.

“Listen to me, Lucy,” the Kid said quietly, holding her gaze. “You didn’t have a choice. You did what you had to do.”

She nodded mutely and blinked back the tears. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath. Swiftly, her old demeanor returned. “Come on, Harry. We’ve got quite a bit of paperwork to sort out,” she pronounced, tucking her Webley into a pocket and retrieving her sidearm from the boardwalk.

The Kid and Heyes exchanged glances, an entire conversation in just one look.

The camera pans out to take in the whole town.

A few men are dragging the body of a dead outlaw in the direction of the undertakers. Others are hauling the erstwhile Sweetwater Kid in the same direction. The barkeep has found a broom and is sweeping up broken glass. Young Billy is helping him.

Harker can be seen marching the outlaw Jake into the sheriff’s office. Lom Trevors emerges from the saloon with Griff and Zeke, still gagged and with wrists tied behind their backs. Two townsmen pick up the wounded outlaw who is bleeding from both shoulders and carry him toward the doctor’s office.

Men are fishing out their own guns from the pile on the boardwalk. Everyone is in a jovial mood, talking happily and embracing one another with relief. And to complete the happy scene, here comes Miss Porter, leading a parade of women and children down the hill from the church and back into town triumphantly, some women still brandishing rifles. Joyous reunions of couples and families take place as we…

FADE OUT...

FADE UP ON –

Uniformed guards are loading all ten surviving outlaws into a prison wagon. The fellow from beneath the boardwalk has both arms in slings. The man who claimed to be Hannibal Heyes is limping along on crutches, his upper leg bandaged.

There are two coffins with the two dead outlaws positioned in such a way that the viewers cannot see the corpses. Lom is showing the bodies to the head guard.

The guard has a sheaf of papers that he hands to Lom. “Sheriff Trevors, the Governor of Wyoming Territory asked for a sworn statement. Are any of these men Hannibal Heyes or Kid Curry?”

“No sir,” Lom answered, pointing. “That one there claimed to be Heyes and this one,” he nodded toward the nearest coffin, “said he was Kid Curry. Now I don’t know the first one’s real name,” again gesturing to the living outlaw, “but this one here finally admitted he was Lloyd Masters, also known as the Sweetwater Kid.”

“Humph. I’ve seen paper on him. And you’re sure about the other one? He sure looks like descriptions I’ve seen of Hannibal Heyes.”

Lom said, “I am one of the few lawmen who can identify Heyes and Curry and I assure you, he is not. He may resemble Hannibal Heyes superficially – same coloring, same build, same age – but I'll go on the record stating that he just plain ain’t.”

“Very good, Sheriff. If you could just sign here… and here…”

Lom bent over the papers, signing at each indicated point.

The head guard continued. “In my mind, these rapscallions are far worse than Heyes and Curry ever were. It’s well known those two never shot anyone. But these animals here have killed a lot of innocent people. The entire Territory of Wyoming owes you a debt of gratitude, Sheriff.”

“I didn’t do it all by myself,” Trevors answered modestly. “I had a lot of help.”

Harry Briscoe strode onto the scene, having overheard Lom’s last remark. “That’s right, Trevors. And you are indeed welcome. It was a happy day for Porterville that we Bannerman agents arrived on the scene. You know, young fella,” he added, addressing the youngest looking prison guard, “a Bannerman man, er, agent, always gets their man.”

The head guard said his goodbyes, but before leaving, mused, “Reckon those rumors might be true that Heyes and Curry went straight?”

“Could be,” answered Lom, poker-faced. “Stranger things have happened.”

As the last of the prisoners are loaded up and the wagon drives off, we...

FADE TO:

TRAIN STATION – Harry Briscoe is at the ticket counter, purchasing tickets. Lucy is sitting on a bench, her carpet bag in her lap, the large trunk of disguises on the platform next to her. She is expressionless, staring off into space. Curry walks over to her. She doesn’t look up. He stands there hesitating, concern on his face.

Perhaps sensing his presence, she glanced up, and seeing she had been joined, immediately pasted on a business-like expression.

“You alright?” the Kid asked gently, taking a seat next to her on the bench.

“You were correct, Mr. Jones. It certainly does “eat” at one. But I do not regret my actions,” Lucy replied crisply, not looking at him.

“It takes time, but you’ll be okay,” he assured the young agent. Then he added softly, “I owe you my life.”

She glanced over to the man seated next to her. Narrowing her eyes just a bit, she said, “Your fast draw is quite impressive, Mr. Jones. If the gunfight had been a fair one, you most certainly would not have required my assistance. As a matter of fact, if you had shot to kill, you would have walked away unscathed. Yet you deliberately aimed for your opponent’s weapon. I have never in my life witnessed such speed nor accuracy. I would surmise you just might be…” Here she paused, looking steadily at him, then added with significance, “the Fastest Gun in the West.”

Kid stayed facing front, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, slightly squinting.

“And your partner is very good with clever plans…” she continued.

Kid shot her another sideways look, but said nothing.

“Which could explain why you were both so very concerned not only with capturing the outlaws, but proving to the governor that they were not who they claimed to be,” she went on.

“Now, Miss Pinkerton, I’m not too sure I get your meanin’,” Curry said slowly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Harry,” she added, smiling teasingly and rising to her feet.

Curry immediately stood as well.

Just as she made her last remark, Hannibal Heyes joined them.

“Won’t tell Harry what?” he asked innocently.

“Oh... just something Miss Pinkerton here thinks Harry doesn’t need to know,” the Kid answered blandly.

The former outlaws exchanged playful looks.

Lucy frowned slightly. She turned to look at her partner, who was now approaching the group, tickets in hand, then back at the boys, then back to Harry, still frowning.

Heyes and Curry glanced at Harry, then looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes, grinning sheepishly.

One finely arched, feminine eyebrow shot up.

We freeze on this frame as the theme music wells up.

Roll Credits.

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calicole and Gemhenry like this post

Re: Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Wed 24 Feb 2021, 12:22 am by **Penski**

That was an "edge of your seat" kind of writing! There were a few nail-biting bits in there. Thankfully our Kid Curry was better (I had no doubt) and love how Heyes was backing up his partner. Very cute ending. Loved it all! Thanks so much for writing for this virtual season!

Re: Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Sat 06 Mar 2021, 10:59 am by Uk_rachel74

That was good. Some wonderful tense moments and a great ending. :)

Penski likes this post

Re: Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Sun 07 Mar 2021, 12:21 am by calicole

Great story, thanks for sharing.

Penski likes this post

Re: Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Sun 07 Mar 2021, 6:05 pm by Laura

That was good. A really good plan to lure the gang into town. I am sure that Lucy knows just who Smith and Jones really are but like Harry will keep it to herself. A lot of tense moments very well done.

Penski likes this post

Wonderful two-parter. I loved to see the old gang again, as well as Harry Briscoe. Lucy Pinkerton is a brilliant characater. It would be nice to read more about her.

royannahuggins likes this post

Re: Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem Thu 01 Apr 2021, 3:50 am by Gemhenry

Great second part. A skilled twirl to demonstrate Curry’s gun skills in his quest to show off his ability to Miss Pinkerton. Well done

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Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem

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Decoys - Part 2 by Little Bluestem

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