royannahuggins
Moderator
Posts : 510
Join date : 2013-10-13
 | | Frauds and Fistfights by Nightwalker | |
 A simple delivery job leaves the boys short of money and stuck in the middle of nowhere. They need money and quickly. But Heyes already has a plan...
Starring
Pete Duel and Ben Murphy as
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry
Guest Starring
Taylor Hickson as Tasha
Russell Crow as Kevin Blake
Nikolai Sergejewitsch Walujew as Ivan, the Ironman Frauds and Fistfights
by Nightwalker
SETTING: The view opens to an almost endless-looking plain. Sagebrush and rocks are the only uprisings besides distant mountains that limit the view on the horizon. If there is such a thing as a dry sea it could be the current surroundings – a sea of stone and dust. Yet there is movement. Two horses, one chestnut, one black bay, plod their way through the otherwise lifeless desert. As they draw closer, it becomes evident to the unobtrusive eye that two men are riding double on the back of the fair animal.
The dark mount is tethered to the saddle of its companion and visibly limping. The dusty riders look as tired as their horses. Their hats sit deep on their heads, one of them brown, the other one noticeably darker, shielding the eyes from the merciless sun above. Both of their headgear are graced with very distinctive hatbands. Slowly the quartet crosses the plain.
“I wish you'd get your hands off me,” Hannibal Heyes snapped and shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.
“And drop from this skittish horse of yours?”
“There’s nothing skittish about him anymore. We've been riding double for two days now.”
“Wasn’t my fault.”
“It was your horse that pulled a leg.”
“No way to see that groundhog hole in time. Could've been yours as well.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Curry flared up. “There's no way I can change a thing about it now.”
“You could get away from me. You're all sweaty! And you’re making me sweat, too.”
“Of course, I’m sweaty! It’s hot.”
Heyes heaved a sigh. “Heck, just give me some room to breathe, will you?”
His partner grunted and shifted back a mite. Silence fell, only disturbed by the almost hypnotic sound of hoofbeats. At least for a little while.
“We’re late,” Heyes started again.
“I know we’re late.”
“We should've been there almost three days ago.”
“I know that, too.”
“Should’ve let her loose and got another horse.”
“We can’t afford one. We’ve gotta give her time to heal up.”
“Which means we’ll be stuck there, at least for a while.”
“I don’t like it, Heyes.”
“We’ve been in worse places in the past.”
“You sure? The name’s kind of a bad omen.”
Heyes smiled in amusement. “You getting suspicious now you’re getting older, Kid?”
“C’mon, Heyes. ‘Widow Creek’? Really?” Kid Curry shifted uneasily in the saddle again. “Kinda forebodin’, ain’t it?”
“Now, Kid, as far as I know you don't have a wife, so why do you care?”
Kid Curry’s look threw daggers into his partner's back, who moved uncomfortably as if he could feel it. “I do care, ‘cause it sounds a lot like low-flyin' bullets to me. And no matter if you’re on the dispensin’ or the receivin’ end, it’s trouble either way.”
“It’s all in the way you look at things. Why don’t you think more positive, like in the way of lonely ladies looking for company instead?”
Kid Curry snorted. “The way our luck’s runnin’? I bet there’s no woman younger than sixty anywhere near.”
Heyes replied with a laugh, “Well, nothing wrong with nice, attentive old ladies either...”
SETTING: The camera draws back and the bantering voices grow softer. As the angle changes, it becomes evident, that the boys are heading for a town nearby. A wooden bridge spans over the sorry excuse of a creek framed by dusty vegetation, indicating there can be more water at some time of the year, which is most definitely not now. The horses plod on steadily, their hooves thumping hollow as they hit the planks. A sign on the other side welcomes travelers to the town of Widow Creek, empathized by creepy music.
[Fade out]
[Well-known Trailer]
[Fade in]
SETTING: The town is of medium size for this area with the usual bustle on the main street: farmers with wagons stocking up their supplies, vendors and women with children occupying the sidewalk, a few cowhands and shady figures heading for the saloon. While the Kid tends to the horses, Heyes passes by the saloon and hotel, then goes straight to the lawyer’s office.
In a swift movement he tried to enter but was stopped short. The door won't open. He tried the handle again and found the door locked. Taking time for a closer look, his wandering eyes were caught by a note tacked to the wall:
“This is to inform any concerned parties
that this office will be closed
until Monday morning.”
Finished reading, Heyes cursed under his breath and checked the surroundings. The office was framed by two other buildings. He took a step back and read the sign of the business to the left of the office.
“Cyrus Black,
Carpenter and Undertaker.”
Then he glanced to the shop on the right.
“Mary McGilly,
Ladies Wear and Finery.”
His expression was thoughtful as his eyes moved between the two shops. He pushed his hat back and forth before he entered the latter one.
The grandmotherly-looking lady behind the counter was neatly dressed with her lush hair tamed into a bun. She looked up with a smile and greeted the visitor. “What can I do for you, son?”
Heyes took his hat off and cleared his throat. “Well, ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you would happen to know where I can find your neighbor, Mr. Stephenson.”
The smile of Mrs. McGilly deepened. “Of course, young man. He went to Shepardsville two days ago for the trial of Matt O’Donnelly.”
“Matt ‘Blackbeard’ O’Donnelly? The guy who once rode with the Devil’s Hole Gang?”
“Oh, yes. He’s charged with horse theft and murder. A very sad case. Everybody loved Daniel Hopper. He had the biggest ranch around, but a heart of gold. His wife is heartbroken.”
“I see. Can you tell me where I can find Mrs. Stephenson?”
“Mrs. Stephenson?”
“Mr. Stephenson’s wife. He is married, isn’t he?”
Mrs. McGilly answered the question with a pearly laugh. “Oh, no. No. He claims it becomes his health staying a bachelor in this town. But he has trustworthy friends, if you would like to leave him a message.” She leaned forward. “Friends like me.”
“No, thank you, ma’am. It’s kinda businesslike.” With a friendly nod, Heyes took his leave. On the street again he drew in a deep breath, slammed his hat back onto his head and headed for the saloon.
-o-o-o-
SETTING: The saloon looks pretty much like any other the boys have ever visited. The Kid is nowhere to be seen yet. The place is more crowded and livelier than usual at midday, but Heyes easily finds an empty space at the bar.
Heyes caught the barkeep's eye. “A bottle of whiskey and two glasses.” He filled one of them, took a sip and made a face. Then he turned around, panning the room. A gathering of exceedingly noisy men caught his attention. One in the middle of the group raised his hand and the sounds ceased. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, his brown hair and beard were cut short. Clad in a black jacket, pants and vest, he looked way better situated than the average patron in there. In a voice loud enough to carry into every corner of the room, he immediately gained the crowd's attention the moment he began to speak.
“Patience, patience, my friends. We’ll get it all settled soon enough. Yes, there will be a boxing championship in this lovely town. You can sign in any time to get a chance to win the title. All you need to do is beat our current champion. He just arrived and is taking a rest now from the straining journey. I challenge every man here to try his luck and show us all what he’s really made of! I stake on our champion, and of course everyone can place bets before a fight starts, supporting your personal favorite.
“A fight goes over three rounds. The winner earns the title, documented in an official certificate, and the trophy money of $100. Just think of it: $100 earned in less than fifteen minutes! And don’t forget about the glory. V You’ll be the local hero! All the girls are gonna love and admire you. Are a few bruises too high a price for the reward you’ll get?” He winked at his audience, and the crowd started cheering. “Get your registration form and leave it with Charley, the bartender. He’ll pass them on to me. We need at least three fighters to make the evening worthwhile...”
Heyes turned around and pursed his lips. He waved the bartender over. “You know something about that fight?”
“Why, sure. The man over there calls himself Kevin Blake. He’s the manager of a kind of traveling roadshow. They camp somewhere outside town and he’s strict about keeping his champion out of sight of everyone.”
“You think it’s a fair fight?”
“Well, depends. I guess the champion’ll be quite a challenge. Tasha, one of my girls, provides them with supplies. She needs the extra money and doesn’t mind the delivery job. She said he’s a man of men, larger than life. My guess, she’s exaggerating, though. You know these girls, don’t you? But if he really is like she says, there ain’t no need for any other tricks.”
“So, you think a really good and determined man could best him?”
“I don’t know, but it’s sure worth a try.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” A smug smile appeared on Heyes’ face and put a twinkle in his eyes. “And I know exactly the right man for the job.”
A couple of men got up. On their way out they discussed strategies to take the champion down, bantering and bragging. Heyes nodded at the waiter, took the bottle and glasses, and strode over to the deserted table. On his way he made a little detour to Kevin Blake.
-o-o-o-
When Kid Curry arrived, the saloon was quiet again. Heyes sat at a table on the far side of the room, accompanied by a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He was writing on a paper in front of him.
“You’ve got our pay?” The Kid greeted him as he took a seat opposite his partner. “I sure hope so, because I had to pay for our horses in advance.”
Heyes looked up a mite contrite and cleared his throat. “Nope. Lawyer’s not back in business until after the weekend.”
“What do you mean ‘after the weekend’? You’re kiddin’!” Kid Curry’s eyes widened. “We don't have more than $1.50 between us.”
“$1.73!” Heyes contradicted him.
The Kid addressed him with the look. “Whatever. It’s not enough to stake you in a game of poker or to keep us both for very long here.”
“Easy, Kid, easy,” Heyes soothed. “It was a little unexpected, yeah, but I’ve already got a plan. We’ll be more than fine 'til then.”
“How? Did you know...?”
“No, of course not or we would have split up when your horse went lame.”
“So...?”
“An opportunity just opened up to make easy money – and quickly.”
“If somethin’ sounds too good to be true, it usually ain’t.”
“Aw, don’t you worry about it. I’ll take that easy little job, making 100 bucks in fifteen minutes, and next time it’s your turn to do a one-man job.”
“Wait a minute, isn’t it my turn now?” The Kid squinted with a glint of suspicion showing up in his eyes.
“Well, so make it two times. I don’t mind. If you don’t trust me....”
“’Course, I trust you – usually. But this sounds a bit fishy to me.”
Heyes shrugged. “Forget about it. I said I’ll do it.”
“No, it’s my turn.”
“But I saw it first!”
“If you’re so keen on doin’ it yourself, it can’t be hard. I know you.”
“Alright. We make it fair and square and toss a coin.”
“Oh no! I know your coins!”
Heyes rolled his eyes and offered the palm of his hand. Kid Curry produced a quarter from his pocket and flipped it into his partner's hand.
“Whoever wins will take the job. No complaining, no second chances, no taking it back. Deal?”
The blond nodded. “Deal.”
Heyes flipped the coin. “Heads.”
“Tails.”
Heyes caught the coin and slowly opened his hand. “I don’t know why we do this all the time. I’ll win...” His voice trailed off, his eyes widened in disbelief and a huge grin split Kid Curry’s face.
“Because against all odds, the luck is with me sometimes.”
“Best of three?”
“No, no way! The job is mine.”
“Alright, alright. It’s your job. I won’t try and take it back again.” Heyes lifted his hands in surrender and handed over the paper. “Just sign it and give it to Charley.” With his last words he indicated the man behind the bar.
Quickly his partner signed the form and passed it to the bartender. “So, tell me what I’ve got to do.”
“Oh, almost nothing. Just going over to the saloon Saturday night...”
Kid Curry nodded and smiled a little.
“...have a good time there....”
The Kid relaxed visibly.
“...after you've fought three rounds against the traveling show’s boxing champion.” Heyes’ face was all innocence and smiles.
Disbelief wiped the smile off Kid Curry’s face. “What!?”
“He can’t be that good a fighter or he wouldn’t be traveling with a cheap show like that.”
The Kid didn't look comforted the least. “What!?!” Almost speechless, his vocabulary seemed to have shrunken down to one single word and he made the best use of it.
Heyes was still chattering at his best. “C’mon Kid, you’re not bad a fighter. You probably had more fistfights than he ever had. And you’ve got the better incentive, the better instinct. I mean you wouldn’t want him to hit you, right?”
“WHAT!?!?!?”
“Rumor has it he has a pretty bad punch, but you’re good at dodging, aren’t you?”
“Are you tryin' to tell me somethin’...?”
“No, no, of course not.” Heyes was all amiable and smiles again. “Only that you’re the best man for the job. You’ll do just fine!” He reached out and gave Kid Curry’s hand a pat of encouragement.
The Kid addressed him with a dirty look and smacked his hand away. “I won’t be fine! I don’t need to fight! What I need is a bed, a bath and a square meal!”
Heyes happily took the opportunity to change the subject. “You need a bath!? I need a bath after that last job you pushed me into.”
“I didn’t push you. It was your turn to take on a one-man job, and you said you would do everything as long as you didn’t have to watch after dirty cattle anymore.”
“That was before I found out it meant shipping their droppings in this horrendous heat! The smell still sticks to me like a stamp,” Heyes complained, wrinkling his nose.
Kid Curry made a show of sniffing the air. “I’ve gotta give you that. You’re right. You need the bath much more than me, even more so if I’m supposed to share a room with you again. But I could do with a good soakin’ for gettin’ the sweat and trail dust off me just as much.”
“You can’t always get want you want, Kid. Make it two out of three and you’re well off since we’ve got to stretch our funds. I’d say go for the creek outside of town. It’ll do for a little sweat. And I’ll get us a room at the hotel while you're gone.
-o-o-o-
SETTING: The bathhouse in town is merely a tent with a row of rough tubs, separated by large sheets which provide a little privacy, at least from curious eyes if not ears.
Hannibal Heyes was sitting in a tub of semi-sudsless water vigorously rubbing and scrubbing. There were no womenfolk to be seen and when he’s finished with his ablutions, he laid back, relaxed and unashamed, enjoying the hot water with a contented smile on his face.
-o-o-o-
SETTING: A dusty road outside of town. The sun beat down on a lone traveler. In the distance, a copse of trees is situated beside a path.
The Kid limped towards the trees, sweating and grumbling. As he got closer, scrub brush gave way to taller trees growing near the edge of a creek. There he stopped and scanned the location. The water flowed slowly toward a small pond, surrounded by lush bushes which provided some privacy.
A brief smile chased the shadows from Curry’s face. Quickly he shed his vest, shirt, and trousers and dropped them to the ground. After another look around, he stripped off his underwear, too. A low hanging branch near the pond’s edge provided a convenient hook where he hung his gun belt, before he plunged into the shaded water.
A blink later he surfaced, with a smile on his face and sparkling drops covering his tanned skin, which accentuated nicely his well-shaped body. Shaking his head and laughing, he splashed water all around before beginning to wash.
The crack of a twig startled the blond. He stilled and listened. Then, with a swift movement, he reached up and grabbed his gun. Cautiously, he got out of the water and quickly tugged on his long johns.
Without making a sound, Kid Curry sneaked through the bushes along the creek, listening carefully, and following the sounds of movement which seemed to be drawing closer to him.
He stopped near a tree, then stuck his head out slowly, peeking around. He froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. He drew back and leaned his shoulders against the tree; his eyes wandered to look off vacantly into the distance.
-o-o-o-
Back at the hotel, Heyes was laying on his bed with a book in his hand. The door opened and Kid Curry entered the room silently.
“Hey, how are you? Are you calmed down now?” Heyes greeted him in the best of moods.
But his partner passed him by without a single glance or word. He went straight to the dresser, grabbed the whiskey bottle sitting there and shuffled over to the armchair by the window. There he slumped down, put the bottle to his lips and took a deep drag.
Heyes watched him with growing concern on his expressive face. “Kid?”
A pair of blue eyes fixed on Heyes with an accusing look of despair. “You finally did it,” the blond muttered.
“Huh?”
“You finally did it,” Curry repeated dejectedly. “You’ve done me in. I’m a goner.”
“What the heck...? What are you talking about?”
“About that job. That fight. Did you see this man? Their champion?”
“Why, no. They keep him out of sight, make him kind of a mystery, but....”
Curry nodded. “I have. I’m a goner,” he said gravely and took another drink.
Heyes crossed over to him, snatched the bottle, whipping it out of his partner's hand. “Kid, what're you doing? Stop that! You’ll never make it if you get yourself drunk!”
“I'm never gonna make it anyway,” Curry pointed out, his temper rising. “And if I don’t survive into next week, I can at least enjoy this one.” He reached for the bottle again.
Heyes dodged him swiftly. “Will you tell me what’s gotten into you? What’s this talk about the man? Maybe he’s a mean fighter. You know this type; you fought this kind before. You know their tricks. You’ve got experience. Ninety percent of a fight is a mental thing – motivation and determination. You fought for your life in the past. He’s only fighting for money. How could he ever beat you?”
“Heyes, you’re still assumin’ he’s a man. He ain’t! You didn’t see him.”
“Of course, he is a man.”
“Oh, no, he ain’t! God didn’t make this one from clay like the rest of us, but from bricks and mortar. There’s nothin' soft about him. Nothin' weak. Only stone-hard knots underneath crude skin. He’s like a rugged mountain.”
“C’mon, Kid. You’re exaggerating...” Heyes paused as he received the look. “Well, yeah, maybe he looks that tough, but he’s only human after all,” Heyes replied, sounding less sure of himself.
“He ain’t!” Kid Curry retorted with the deepest conviction. “He’s not human, I tell you! He’s a daggone giant! And if I fight him, he’ll do me in. ‘Less I drop out.”
“You can’t drop out.” Heyes turned serious.
“Why?”
“We can’t pay for board and lodging. I made up a story, but we’ve got to pay Sunday morning.”
Curry moaned and covered his eyes with his left hand.
“C’mon, Kid, there’s always a way out. You’ve got to believe!”
“I do believe! I believe that I’m never gonna see a Sunday again, so why would I care?”
“I didn’t know you were so keen on Sunday services.”
“Guess I should’ve been, goin’ to meet my maker soon and all.”
“Would you stop talking like that! You’re no quitter. You’re a fighter, so get into a fighting mood!”
“I told you before, he’s like a rugged mountain. How can anyone fight a mountain?”
“That’s what dynamite was made for,” Heyes joked, perching on the arm rest of his partner’s chair.
The look the Kid threw at him was worse than anything Heyes had ever received, but he didn't step back. Instead, he laid his arm around Kid Curry’s shoulder. “Take a break, calm down. I’ll go into town and see what kind of dynamite I can rustle up to bring your mountain down, alright?” He stood, strapped on his gun belt and opened the door. “And stay away from that bottle!”
-o-o-o-
Heyes descended the stairs to the lobby, a look of concern in his eyes blended with a small amount of guilt. “A giant,” he muttered to himself, half mocking half concerned. “You really trying to sell me a fairy tale, Kid?”
He left the hotel and took the same route Kid Curry had used only a short while ago. When he reached the creek, he started looking out for tracks and followed them through the dry bushes. Soon he arrived at a small campsite. A colorful wagon announcing the world’s greatest fighter and a few tents were gathered around a fireplace. It was silent and nobody was to be seen anywhere near.
Heyes took his time to observe the place, listening, but nothing disturbed the peaceful silence. Keeping a steady eye on his surroundings, he sneaked over to the nearest tent where he ducked down. Cautiously, he searched for weak spots in the fabric. Soon he found a small hole. Heyes hunkered down and peeked through the gap in the tent wall.
First, he noticed a pair of legs like thick, knotted trees. His glance wandered up and up and up. What he saw was a giant indeed! Well, at least a very large man: a crude figure, almost seven feet tall, bald but with a coarse-haired body and bulging muscles. His eyes were dark and shaded. He gave more the impression of a beast than a man as he stood in the center of the tent, filling it with his sheer presence.
Heyes choked hard. “Dang, the Kid was right. That is a giant!”
The increasing sound of hoofbeats caught the attention of the huge man. His head popped up. A brief smile softened his hard features and sparked a light in his dark eyes. He turned around and walked outside.
Suddenly the entire camp was filled with sounds and movement as the inhabitants gathered in its center, greeting a newcomer.
Quickly Heyes slipped inside the tent, tiptoed to the flap, and peeked out. His facial expression was both curious and pensive at the same time.
A young woman leading a mule had just arrived. Her animal was packed with cans and pots and a small keg. Diligent hands unloaded the supplies and dished out a hot meal for about half-a-dozen men and two women, their ages ranging between twenty and forty.
While the small group was eating, the woman stood aside waiting. She was small and slender, with big blue eyes, silken light-blonde hair and a fair complexion. A disfiguring scar crossed her once-lovely face. The bulging giant at her side seemed unaffected, though. Shy glances wandered back and forth between them. She tilted her head up and smiled at him.
Suddenly Blake jumped up from his seat, knocking over his plate, and yelled at her. “I told you to stay away from him!”
“I did no wrong!”
“I don’t want you sneaking around here. You bring the food; you leave. That’s the deal.” His voice was loud and angry, his eyes blazing. With long strides he closed the gap between them.
“That’s what I did,” she said as she drew back, her eyes big and filled with fear.
“I saw you talking!”
“We didn’t talk!” she protested and retreated further until a tree trunk against her back stopped her.
The back of his hand slammed into her face, drawing blood in the corner of her mouth. “Don’t lie to me, you little...”
“Nyet! No! Stop!” The main attraction of the show grabbed the raised arm of his employer. His voice was dark and rough like growling thunder and had a strong foreign accent.
Snakelike, the dark-haired man spun around and threw his full anger at the new target.
“You! Get your hands off me, you stupid idiot!”
The giant released the arm and raised his open hands in a gesture of defeat.
“You’re as dumb as a brick! Don’t you know what talking to her means?! Huh?”
The huge man drew back, holding Blake’s full attention.
The young woman took the chance to slip away unnoticed.
“She can mean the end to you and me and your career! Do you want to end up in a cage, locked away for the rest of your sorry life, huh? Is that what you want?”
The big man seemed to shrink under the blazing fury of his employer. Subdued, he shook his head.
“Ah, I see. There’s still a bit of common sense left inside that useless head of yours. Get your grub and get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you again any time soon. Stay in your tent until I come to get you.”
Heyes dropped the flap to beat a retreat. Turning around, his eyes were caught by a tattered book lying on a trunk:
Boxing, a Manual Devoted to the Art of Self-Defence
A Perfect Treatise on Boxing, with Valuable Illustrations Showing Just What Positions to Take When Going to Lead and Also in Relation to Defence 
He snatched it, stuffed it under his shirt and slipped out of the tent under the tarp just as the legitimate inhabitant returned. Outside, the former outlaw leader held his breath, listening. Since no one had seen him, he went back though the bushes, quickly and quietly.
Out of earshot he, increased his pace, circled back and arrived just in time at the edge of the copse as the young woman was leaving it, too. She started her way back, but Heyes raised his hands and beamed one of his most brilliant smiles at her. “Hey, Tasha.”
The woman froze and stared at him disbelievingly. “Heyes?” she whispered. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, of course, it’s me. What else would I be? A ghost?”
She smiled, too, dropped the lead rope and threw herself into his arms. “Yes, maybe. I haven’t heard about you in a long time. Some say you’re out of the business, others claim you’re dead.”
“Rumors about my passing are greatly exaggerated,” Heyes replied with a wink and kissed her cheek. Then he gently lifted her chin with his fingertips and examined the bruise building on her face. “How are you? Still getting into trouble, I see?”
She drew back and lowered her head. “That’s easy enough for a woman on her own in these parts. Not everyone’s as decent as you and the Kid. But what are you doing here?”
“Oh, this and that, you know. Odd jobs. Keeping a low profile. Right now, we’re passing time waiting to get paid for a job and trying to make some money in the meanwhile. The Kid will challenge this boxing champion they’re hiding back there.” His thumb pointed vaguely toward the unseen camp.
“So, you already found him?” Her eyes grew wide in surprise.
“It wasn’t much of a challenge,” Heyes stated, beaming with pride and false modesty.
“I bet.” Tasha smiled briefly. “But the Kid has to withdraw. I don’t want him to get hurt. I’ll never forget what he did for me back on that day.” Involuntarily, her hand touched the scar crossing her face. “That guy would have beaten me to death without him standing up for me.”
“Yeah, he’s a good at protecting folks. Always was, always will be.” Heyes’ voice was warm with affection. “But don’t be scared. The Kid will make it. You know, he’s not a bad fighter.”
“Don’t be so sure! Maxim is really great; strong and skilled. A true champion,” she spoke proudly, and her eyes started to sparkle.
“Max...?”
“Maxim – that’s his name, his real name. They only call him ‘Ivan’ for the show. He wouldn’t harm a fly, but sometimes his incredible strength is just too much to be controlled.”
“You know a lot about the man.”
She blushed. “Well, maybe. I see him every day. He’s nice; gentle and kind.”
“That’s not the description I expect for a man who beats up other guys to make a living.”
“He wouldn’t do that, if it wasn’t for that ugly man! On the outside Blake is handsome and charming, but inside he’s d'yavol – a devil. Maxim would leave him anytime, if he had the liberty to go.”
“What could make a man like him stay against his will?”
“Blake knows a secret about him, about one of his fights, and holds it against him. And he doesn't speak American. He would be lost without someone looking after him.”
“So, if he can’t speak our language, how would you know about all this?”
“Because I understand him,” Tasha answered, smiling briefly. “My father was Russian, too, and taught me his language. We often used it at home, before King Cholera came to get him.”
“Is that what brought you trouble?” Heyes indicated her injured cheek with a tilt of his chin.
Tasha nodded. “Blake doesn't want us to talk to each other. Doesn't want anyone to come near him.” She lowered her head.
“Because you could learn about their secret...?”
Tasha nodded again.
“But you already know,” Heyes said softly.
Tasha kept silent, but a slow blink of her eyes told Heyes everything he needed to know.
“Would you tell me?”
She shook her head, took the mule’s leading rope again and turned around, resuming her way back to town.
Heyes fell into step beside her. “I wouldn’t push it, if I couldn't see your concern about the Kid. You said you wouldn’t want to see him hurt. Well, after the last prank he played on me, I wouldn't mind him getting roughed up a bit, but I'd never take the risk of him getting seriously hurt – not for any reason or any amount of money. If there’s anything he should know – we should know – tell it to me. For the Kid’s sake.”
The color drained from her face, but she didn't respond.
“Tasha, you know you can trust me. Whatever you know about him can’t be worse than what you already know about us. We trust each other, don’t we? You've held our lives in your hand for a long time now. Do you think we would throw it all away?”
The young woman shook her head. “Tell the Kid... please, tell him not to fight. By no means. Maxim is a good man, but...” she drew in a deep breath. “In Sharpsburg, a man who fought him ended up dead.” She turned her head, facing Heyes with tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. “You wouldn’t want him to take that risk, would you?”
“No, of course not!” Heyes answered, deadly serious now, too. “Do you know what happened?”
“No. Maxim doesn’t know either. All the challengers left the place on their own, some of them with help of friends, of course. But the next day Blake came to him, telling him they had to leave in a hurry. There were rumors about a man found dead in the morning. Our local doctor told me there are things like internal injuries; men bleeding to death hours after a beating. It must have been him. It was too much a coincidence he died shortly after a fight.”
Heyes pushed his hat back on his head. “You’re right. It’s strange timing. There has to be a connection.”
Very silent and deep in thought, they continued their way back to town.
As they reached the first houses, Heyes stopped. “Thank you for your time, Tasha, and your trust. I’ve got to leave you now, but how about meeting us for supper at the hotel? The Kid will love both: seeing you and getting a decent meal. When we meet again you should know that we’re staying under aliases here. He’s Thaddeus Jones and my name’s Joshua Smith.”
“Smith and Jones?” the blonde laughed.
“I know,” Heyes said with a grimace. “It’s a long story.”
“Alright, Mr. Smith...”
“Joshua for you, Tasha.” Heyes offered a smile, and tipped his hat as they parted ways. “See you for supper then.”
Unable to face the Kid right then, Heyes entered the saloon, found a deserted table and sat down. He pulled out the book from under his shirt and started to read. After a while, he looked up, his gaze wandering off into the distance. Slowly a smile formed on his face.
-o-o-o-
SETTING: The sun was hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows through the windows of the hotel’s dining room. Heyes, Curry and Tasha occupy a table in a corner which grants them some privacy and a clear view of the entrance. A stout waitress is just leaving the table laden with bowls of stew, biscuits and coffee.
The blond tucked into the food while his partner merely played with it, focused on talking.
“We have to find his weak point,” he claimed. “Nobody’s perfect and, in my experience, that goes for a fighter, too. If only we could observe him and learn his tactics, but there’s not enough time.”
Concerned, Tasha objected, “He can’t afford to lose! If he loses, Blake will drop him like a hot potato, and he’ll be lost. He’ll end up dead sooner or later as a victim or a scapegoat meant to hang for somebody else's crime. Or Blake could turn him in to the law for what he has done.”
Heyes pursed his lips and nodded. “You know, I think we need more information. We need to know what happened back in Sharpsville. And we need to know his weak point. Maybe we can find a way out for both the Kid and Maxim. Do you think you could talk to Ivan – Maxim – again? Find out how to beat him?”
“Can I tell him why?”
“No! We don’t know if we can trust him or how good an actor he is. He could betray our plan by accident.”
“I don’t like lying to him.”
“You don’t need to lie. Just tell him you’re scared someone will beat him. There’s a stranger in town with some sort of reputation.” He threw a look at his partner.
“Who?” the Kid asked.
Heyes’ look intensifies as does his smile.
“Me?” Kid Curry pointed his thumb towards his chest.
Heyes nodded. “It’s not even a lie. Thaddeus may not have a reputation, but Kid Curry does for sure.”
Tasha smiled again. “If you put it that way, you're right. I think I can do this. But I don’t dare risk talking to him again. Blake will rip me to pieces if he catches me.”
“The Kid will be with you and distract him.”
“Oh, I will?” Kid Curry lifted his brows.
“Of course. You wouldn’t want her to go alone and get hurt, would you?”
“’Course not.”
“See, everything’s settled.”
“And how do you think I’ll get their attention?” the blond asked.
“You’re going to apply for a job.”
The Kid’s jaw dropped. “I’ll do what...?”
Last edited by royannahuggins on Sat 20 Mar 2021, 2:08 am; edited 5 times in total | |
|
