Starring Pete Duel and Ben Murphy
Dolly Dolly Parton
Wes Carter Alan Hale Jr
Harvey Baker Bob Denver
Sheriff Samuel Tate Slim Pickens
Steve Wilson Elijah Wood
Hannibal Heyes rode into the small town of Lone Butte, and cast a casual glance at the Fourth of July decorations prominently on display. There were large banners stretched across the width of the street boasting of festivities that would begin on Friday with an Independence Day Parade in the morning, a potluck supper in the Social Hall in the late afternoon and conclude with a “Fireworks Extravaganza” later that night.
Besides the patriotic red, white and blues of the holiday decorations, he noticed the hustle and bustle of the smiling townspeople as they went about their ordinary activities. He noticed the saloons, all three of them, the mercantile, the bank, the schoolhouse, the church and the sheriff’s office.
Without appearing to do so, he gave extra attention to the sheriff’s office. The name burned into the wood placard which hung above the door, proudly proclaimed in big, bold letters that Lone Butte’s sheriff was Samuel Tate. The outlaw allowed a faint grin of relief to appear as he continued on his way; that name didn’t mean a thing to him.
Despite all his noticing, Heyes failed to see the young boy who, once he spotted the tall, dark stranger ride into town, scurried from establishment to establishment as fast as his legs would carry him.
“He’s here! He’s here!” he eagerly proclaimed, poking his head in the doorway, before going on to the next destination.
The boy shared the news with everyone he could find, including the sheriff. Upon hearing the announcement, Sheriff Samuel Tate checked that his gun was in his holster, grabbed his hat and raced outside in time to watch the man in question disappear around the corner of the mercantile. Realizing that time could be of the essence, the lawman turned around.
“Hey, he went this-a-way!” he hollered before he took off in hot pursuit.
Heyes grimaced as he eased himself out of the saddle and slid to the ground. It had been a long, hot and dusty ride. He looked forward to soaking in a warm tub of water and drinking a few beers.
“Beers first,” he decided as he moistened his dry, cracked lips.
After settling with the liveryman, he stepped outside to find his path blocked. The outlaw was taken aback to discover that he was surrounded by what appeared to be the whole entire population of Lone Butte, the sheriff himself right up front, his badge of tin twinkling in the bright sunlight.
Heyes hesitated, glancing around, warily. “Hiya; right friendly little town you’ve got here.”
“Sure is, Doc,” nodded a large man garbed in blacksmith’s attire. The smile on his face along with the wink he gave Heyes caused the outlaw to blink in surprise as he pondered the man’s words. Then it hit him; the crowd was for someone else, this was a case of mistaken identity, an easy problem to solve.
“Oh, I’m not a doctor,” he protested with a smile, “sure hope nobody’s sick? The best I could do is tell them they need to see a real doctor,” he laughed.
“Why that’s a good one, Doc,” a female voice in the crowd chuckled.
“Sure is, Doc; that’s real funny,” another voice chimed in as laughter erupted from the crowd.
As he realized that his protestations fell on deaf ears, and the townspeople hadn’t altered their opinion one whit, Heyes’ smile faltered.
“Honest, I’m really NOT a doctor; I’m afraid you’ve all got me confused with somebody else,” he protested more firmly.
“Sounds like you’re the one who’s confused, Doc,” teased a man on his left. The laughter was louder this time.
“Yeah, we didn’t know ya had such a good sense of humor, Doc.”
His patience rapidly coming to an end, a frustrated Heyes spoke each word slowly, distinctly and loudly, “I…AM…NOT…A…DOCTOR…AND MY…NAME…IS…NOT…DOC!”
“Guess maybe you’re jus’ takin’ yerself a little ‘holiday’ then, right, Doc?” yet another faceless voice in the crowd called out, his tone teasing as well.
Heyes grit his teeth as he seethed with annoyance. Did the whole entire town have a hearing problem?
Heyes struggled to keep his frustration in check, and counted to ten. About the time he reached five, the cryptic words the last speaker had uttered penetrated his brain, only this time he listened to them more carefully. Holiday…doc? He swallowed as it began to make sense; he wasn’t sure he liked the sense it was making, though. He raised his head to search the crowd.
His eyes scanned the townspeople, and they met and locked with a pair of hazel ones, their owner’s face crinkling with laughter. This beanpole of a man nodded and stepped forward, his face weathered; his skin tanned and leathery from years of working his fields. Heyes found himself the recipient of a toothy smile, a sly look and a conspiratorial wink, the combination of which slightly unnerved the outlaw, although his poker face gave nothing away.
“You, all of you,” he gestured with his hand, “you think I’m Doc Holliday?” He looked around at the sea of smiling faces that surrounded him, seeing the nods of assent and irritating winks only served to confirm his suspicions.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you folks, but I am NOT Doc Holliday. My name is Smith – Joshua Smith,” he announced adamantly.
The sheriff’s smile grew even broader, if that were possible, and he sent Heyes an exaggerated wink. “Course it is,” he smilingly agreed while his tone suggested otherwise. The lawman turned to face the crowd. “We understand, don’t we folks?”
Dumbfounded, Heyes watched as heads bobbed up and down, while murmurs of agreement came from all directions. Every face, young and old, male and female, wore a huge grin plastered on it, too. Heyes groaned under his breath; it was clear they didn’t understand at all!
He drew in a deep breath. “Listen folks, I really AM Joshua Smith; I just stopped in your little town to wait for my friend to arrive.”
The dark-haired outlaw was nonplussed when everyone nodded and voiced their agreement with his words. This was getting ridiculous! Exasperation tinged his tone as he continued, determined to end this lunacy once and for all.
“As I was saying, once my friend arrives, we’ll both be on our way. I don’t know the real Doc Holliday, never met him personally, but I hear tell he’s a real friendly fella.” Heyes pierced the crowd with a look. “You and he ought to get along real well. It’s also rumored that the man’s a bit shorter than me, his hair’s a few shades lighter and of course he’s not half as good- looking as I am.”
Amidst the laughter that greeted his words, Heyes added, “Now, if you’ll all excuse me,” he took a step forward, only to find himself blocked. The close proximity of the crowd prevented him from taking more than one small step in any direction. Letting his head drop to his chest, he released a sigh of resignation. Then, feeling the sheriff’s eyes upon him, Heyes raised his head.
“Looks like ya might be with us a while longer, Doc – uh, I mean, Mister Smith.” Once more, the lawman winked at Heyes, who had started to wonder if the happy citizens of Lone Butte suffered from tics as well as deafness.
“Seein’ as how you’ve made everyone happier than a spring pig takin’ its first mud bath with your arrival, maybe you’d care to join us for some grub?”
“I don’t …” Heyes began only to be cut off.
“We’ve got a real nice welcome dinner all ready over in the Social Hall,” the lawman continued in his best persuasive manner.
“Really, Sheriff …” he tried once more.
“Everyone’s worked real hard,” Tate interrupted, never breaking stride, “ever since we heard ya was a-headin’ our way from Harvey Baker’s cousin, Ida Mae. See, she has an aunt who lives over in Tombstone, an’ she heard from her husband’s brother-in-law’s Uncle Chester that you was on your way to Yuma. That meant you’d have to go through our town to get there, since Lone Butte is the only town between the two. So ya see, it was jus’ a simple matter of time waitin’ to see when you’d be ridin’ in.”
“Sheriff, I’m sure that’s all real exciting news for everyone here; maybe you’ll get the chance to meet the REAL Doc Holliday. When you do, be sure to tell him Mr. Joshua Smith said hello.”
“Okay, Mr. Joshua Smith, but let me ask ya jus’ one question first before ya go. Where’re ya headin’?”
“Yuma,” Heyes answered promptly.
Tate raised a brow and shot Heyes a smug smile. “Yuma, huh?”
“Yes, Yuma.” A beat too late Heyes caught the look. “Oh no, now you wait just a minute, Sheriff; what else is there in that direction?” the outlaw demanded, not bothering to disguise his irritation. “You just said yourself that there isn’t anything else between Lone Butte and Yuma. Everyone has to go through this town to get there, so that doesn’t prove a thing!”
The sheriff smiled, “Uh, huh.” There was a slight pause. “Its real good food, Mister Smith.”
“Oh, I believe you, but just the same, I think I’ll head on over to the saloon.”
“So, you’ve already ate, then?”
“Well, no,” Heyes hedged, “but I AM awful thirsty.”
“We’ve got a real turkey with all the trimmin’s,” the lawman cajoled.
“Thanks anyway, Sheriff, but I believe there’s a beer or two over in the saloon that’s calling my name.” Heyes turned to make his getaway.
Sheriff Tate wasn’t about to give up. He stared at the retreating man’s back. “Say, son,” he called out, “how long has it been since ya had a real turkey?”
Forced to push his way through the milling throng of people, Heyes had only managed a few feet when he found himself once more standing still, listening to the lawman’s persuasive voice.
Tate hurried on, “Not one of those scrawny sage hens runnin’ around these parts callin’ itself a turkey, but a great big bird, roasted golden brown, the juices oozing, drippin’ down the sides. We’ve got biscuits ‘n gravy, mashed taters, corn, green beans, an’ if that ain’t enough to convince ya to stay, to finish it all off, there’s some of the best apple pie you’ve ever sank your teeth into.”
The lawman’s descriptive words had set Heyes’ mouth watering and caused his stomach to rumble with hunger. It had also driven all thoughts of the saloon and beer out of his head.
“Well, son, whaddaya say?”
Heyes turned around to face the lawman, a dimpled grin in full evidence. “I’d say I think you’ve convinced me, Sheriff. There’s just one thing, though; I’ll only accept your offer as long as it’s Joshua Smith you’re inviting to eat with you.”
“Well then, c’mon with me, Doc, uh pardon me, I mean, Mister Smith,” Tate winked, “we’ll have ya fixed up in no time.” The sheriff turned to the citizens of Lone Butte. “You folks go on ahead an’ get a place all set up for our guest. We’ll be with ya in jus’ a few minutes; there’s a couple of things I need to discuss with him first.”
When they were alone, the sheriff turned to look into Heyes’ face. “It’s alright, I know ya must have your reasons, so I won’t pry. I jus’ need to let ya know that ya couldn’t have picked a better time than right now to visit our town. If ya turn around, you’ll see why.”
Obligingly, Heyes turned.
“That’s our bank,” Tate pointed.
Indeed, there sat the Bank of Lone Butte, right smack dab in front of Heyes. He had to suppress a grin at the absurdity of the situation. Here was a sheriff pointing out the town’s bank to an outlaw, oblivious of the irony.
“Uh, it’s a very nice bank, Sheriff; but what’s so special about it? I’ve seen plenty of banks before.”
“Not like this one you haven’t,” Tate declared fervently, “that bank is the livelihood of this whole entire town. Why, Lone Butte would up ‘n disappear, it’d become a ghost town, if somethin’ was to happen to it.”
“Again, I’m not quite sure what your little bank has to do with me?” Heyes raised a brow in question.
“I’m guessin’ that maybe ya haven’t heard about the silver strike around these parts?”
Heyes shrugged, “I’ve heard about them, but I’m still not sure what all this has to do with me.”
“Well, one of the largest silver mines around keeps its payroll right here in our bank. Every Saturday like clockwork, two hundred miners come to Lone Butte. They start arrivin’ late on Friday and stick around until the bank opens on Saturday to collect their wages. That ‘little bank’ you’re lookin’ at keeps around $100,000 in its vault to pay those wages.”
His back still to Tate, Heyes whistled softly in appreciation.
“We have to be on the lookout for any kind of trouble, no matter how small. So, ya see what I mean?”
“Well, Sheriff, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about. Your ‘little bank’ is made of solid brick and rock and it’s got thick iron bars on all the windows. Nobody’d be crazy enough to try and break through all that, even for that much money!”
“Oh, it has more’n that to protect it,” the lawman boasted proudly, “once you’re lucky enough to get inside, you’ll be greeted by two of the biggest, and meanest, guards you’ve even seen, stationed jus’ inside the door. Both of ‘em are armed with great big guns and have orders to shoot to kill.”
Heyes swallowed as he continued to study the bank. Thinking of all that money just waiting inside, Heyes added thoughtfully, “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a bank built under a hotel before, now that might be a problem.”
“Well, it’s not as easy as it looks. Anyone thinkin’ of robbin’ it from the hotel would first have to pry up the floorboards, then saw their way through solid ten inch beams, chop through the thick plaster ceilin’ an’ then they’d havta drill a hole big enough for a man to drop through down into the bank.
“They’d havta smuggle all the equipment they needed up to the room without bein’ seen, besides bein’ awful careful not to make any noise while they was doin’ all that. Once they’d made it that far, their next problem would be our safe; our bank is equipped with the Pierce ‘N Hamilton ’78.”
The dark-haired outlaw shook his head.
Tate took two steps forward to stand alongside the other man. “I figured you’d understand. That means they’d have to use dynamite to bust it open. I only know of one man ‘round these parts who can open a P & H ’78 without using dynamite, an’ as strange as this may sound comin’ from a lawman, ya know what?” Tate nudged Heyes in the ribcage with his elbow, “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”
Heyes swallowed again, and then turned sideways to eye the lawman. “At the risk of repeating myself, Sheriff Tate, there’s no way anyone, even that fella you’re not worried about, would be that stupid or crazy enough to try and rob that bank - no one!” he reiterated in a firm tone.
Tate took a careful look around, then heaved a deep sigh and released it slowly. “Well again, jus’ between us law-abidin’ citizens ya understand, what if I was to tell ya that there was someone - actually a few ‘someones’ - who’ve been hangin’ round our small town more’n they should. They’re actin’ kinda strange-like, an’ well, that I jus’ had a real bad feelin’ about ‘em?”
“Strange-like?” Heyes queried.
“Yep. Used to be they jus’ came into town on payday, got liquored up, whooped n’ hollered it up, ya know, hurrahed the place, maybe got thrown in jail overnight, then they’d sober up n’ head on out to their spread, which is about twenty miles outta town. Lately though, they’ve been comin’ in more often, stayin’ sober and sittin’ ‘round not causin’ trouble.”
“Yes, well I can why you’d think they were acting strange-like,” Heyes grinned, “It sounds as if your job got easier, Sheriff. What’s really troubling you?”
Tate sighed, “They’re not actin’ normal; I can feel it in the air, somethin’s not right! I’ve already got my suspicions about ‘em bein’ involved in cattle rustlin’, but so far I haven’t been able to prove anythin’. And another thing, there’s been some new faces mixed in with the old, an’ if they did take it into their heads to try n’ rob our bank, well, I’m not sure I’d be able to stop them - alone,” he admitted almost reluctantly.
Tate hesitated, and then plunged on, his face reflecting his determination and his emotions as he pleaded his case. “Do ya think that if ya stayed ‘round for jus’ a bit longer, that with your reputation to back ya up, an’ them knowin’ that you were in town visitin’ for a spell, then maybe they’d jus’ plumb forget all about it an’ leave us, an’ our bank, alone?”
Heyes mulled over the sheriff’s words. He and the Kid generally made it a rule not to get involved in anyone else’s game if they could avoid it, and this game sounded like it was pretty involved already. Not wanting to commit to anything just yet, he prevaricated.
“So, Sheriff, all these miners that come into Lone Butte to get their wages every week; just what do they do with all their hard-earned money?”
Tate’s face lit up when he realized that the Doc hadn’t said an outright ‘no’ to his proposal. “Well, mostly they like to spend it drinkin’ and gamblin’, all weekend long. The whole town’s pretty lively startin’ Friday afternoon clear on into the wee hours Sunday mornin’. Things kinda quiet down when everyone heads on over to listen to the preacher’s sermon. Guess folks figure they better try to get some kind of salvation after all that sinnin’ they done the nights before,” he concluded with a chuckle.
Heyes grinned as he did some swift calculations. Today was Tuesday. If he and the Kid could help the small town with just their mere presence and relieve some of the miners of their money in the process, it would be of mutual benefit for everyone concerned.
“I’ll need to discuss this with my friend when he arrives, of course, but while we’re waiting, I don’t see why we can’t do it over a meal, especially if it’s as good as you claim.”
“Oh, it’s even better! Well then, what’re we waiting for? C’mon, let’s go get us some of that turkey an’ a slice or two of pie, Doc!”
Not bothering to correct Tate, Heyes trailed along behind the jubilant lawman. What could possibly go wrong?
Heyes was sitting at a table loaded with enough food to feed an army. The sheriff was on his right and there was a vacant space on his left. Both men wasted no time in sampling the food on their plates.
A short time later, Heyes glanced towards his left and was pleasantly surprised to discover that, while he had been busy conversing with the other diners, an extremely attractive, and voluptuous, petite blonde had claimed the empty seat. Since Tate was busy chatting with a neighbor and unable to perform the introductions, Heyes took it upon himself to set matters right. He swallowed his mouthful of food and turned to the lady.
“Good afternoon, ma’am; my name is Joshua Smith.”
“Why, of course it is,” the lovely vision laughed and batted her long lashes at him before she gave the man an exaggerated wink.
Heyes merely smiled, no longer surprised by the gesture.
The musical voice of his dinner companion continued as he picked up his glass. “Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Smith. My name is Dolly, Dolly Hayes.”
The familiar surname caused the outlaw to suck in his breath. Having just taken a swallow of lemonade, the liquid spewed out of his mouth, as first he choked, then coughed and sputtered.
“Sorry…went down…the wrong way,” he gasped, then covered his mouth with his hand in an effort to curb the prolonged coughing fit.
Dolly jumped to her feet and began thumping him repeatedly between his shoulder blades with her tiny fists.
“I’m awfully sorry, Doc!” She looked up to see the sheriff glaring at her and sent the lawman an apologetic look before she returned her attention to the dark-haired man who was trying to catch his breath.
“Horsefeathers, Doc; Sheriff Tate warned us all to be real careful an’ not to get ya riled up none because of,” Dolly hesitated, then leaned down close to the outlaw’s ear, “well, ya know, because of ‘your condition’;” the last two words were barely audible.
Heyes took a tentative breath and waved his hand dismissively, “No harm done, Miss Hayes,” he answered with a slight grin, his voice still sounding strangled as he spoke her last name.
Reassured that she hadn’t sent Doc Holliday on a premature trip to see his maker, Dolly reseated herself.
“Oh, it’s not Miss, Mister Smith,” she patted his arm and gave him a dazzling smile that showed her pearly whites off to perfection.
“Oh, pardon my mistake; I’m sorry, Mrs. Hayes,” Heyes amended, his tone polite and minus the grin.
“There’s no need to be sorry, Joshua; it’s Widow Hayes,” Dolly hastened to set the record straight, “my husband died over a year ago,” she added in a honeyed tone.
“Now, I’m really sorry to hear that, ma’am,” the outlaw responded, looking anything but as he picked up his fork, a dimpled grin on his face.
Just then, the beanpole man poked his head around the corner of the door. “Uh, s’cuse me, sheriff; but can I see ya for a minute?”
“Now, Harvey?” the annoyed lawman responded, “can’t ya see I’m busy entertainin’ the Doc?” Tate turned to Heyes, “Sorry, Mister Smith.”
“It’s Joshua,” Heyes corrected with a tolerant smile.
“Right; Joshua.”
“Sheriff!” Harvey’s voice was more insistent.
“Can’t it wait?” Tate didn’t bother to hide his exasperation at being disturbed.
“NO!”
The lawman sighed heavily. “Okay, but it’d better be important!” he warned as he rose reluctantly from his seat to join the agitated man at the door. “Alright, Harvey, what’s got ya so daggone all-fired up that ya gotta drag me away from the Doc?” Tate glared at the man.
Harvey pulled the irate lawman outside. “Look!” he pointed to a sandy-haired stranger standing beside the water trough. “Him!”
The sheriff gave the man a cursory glance. “Well, what about ‘him’?”
“Sheriff,” Harvey began in an aggrieved tone, “I think that we might jus’ have us a purty big problem. That man standin’ right there over yonder fits the description I got of Doc Holliday even better’n that other fella we got inside right now; ya know, the one who keeps sayin’ he’s NOT Doc Holliday? Jus’ s’pose the one inside’s really tellin’ the truth? If he is, an’ he’s really not, then this one here has to be the right one; an’ if he is,” he shook his head sadly, “well then, we made an awfully big mistake!” An out-of-breath Harvey fell silent.
“Hmm…” Tate rubbed his whiskered chin as he scrutinized the new arrival more carefully, “maybe; could be this one here’s the real Doc Holliday. Maybe that other fella really is Joshua Smith, jus’ like he claims.” He turned to Harvey, “C’mon, there’s one sure way to find out!”
The lawman marched back inside the social hall. “Mister Smith, I’d like a word with ya outside, RIGHT NOW!” he emphasized the last two words as he pivoted about and exited the hall without waiting for the other man to join him.
Sheriff Tate’s brusqueness puzzled Heyes. Alerted by the sudden shift in the man’s attitude towards him, warning bells began to ring as the outlaw followed Tate with his eyes. As the sheriff disappeared through the door, Heyes wiped his mouth on his napkin, excused himself to the table and made his way outside to join the lawman on the boardwalk.
“Yes, Sheriff?” he arched a brow, “something wrong?” he enquired, keeping his voice pleasant, striving to appear as innocent as possible under the circumstances.
Tate pointed.
Heyes followed the lawman’s finger; his eyes widened and he stepped forward quickly.
‘Hey, Wyatt – uh, I mean, Thaddeus,” Heyes sent Curry a warning look, “it’s about time you got here!”
Hearing the familiar voice, Curry’s head jerked up in surprise. He looked behind him in both directions, and then realized he was the only one standing in the street.
“The Sheriff here and I are real glad to see you. Seems there’s been a little case of mistaken identity; they think I’m Doc Holliday!” Heyes laughed. “I’ve tried telling them my name is Joshua Smith, but I don’t think they quite believe me.” He sent the Kid another significant look. “Sheriff Tate, this is my friend, Thaddeus Jones; Thaddeus, this is Sheriff Sam Tate.”
“Uh, howdy, Sheriff; it’s uh, nice to meet ya,” I think, Curry added to himself as he tipped his hat respectfully to the lawman.
“Seems our reputations have preceded us, my friend. A ‘little bird’ let it out that we’d be heading this direction on our way to Yuma. The whole entire town is pleased as punch to welcome us. Why, they’re so happy to have us with them, they’ve even made us something special to eat.”
“Food?” Curry’s mood lightened considerably.
Sheriff Tate nodded, satisfied by what the dark-haired man had said. As famous as the Doc and Wyatt were, it made perfect sense that they’d have to use aliases to protect their true identities whenever they traveled. He filled with self-importance at the knowledge that they trusted him with their secret. With both men in his small town, trouble should stay on its horse and pass Lone Butte right on by.
“C’mon inside the social hall and get that belly of yours filled up; I’ll get someone to tend to your horse for ya, Mr. Earp.”
“The name’s Jones, Sheriff, Thaddeus Jones,” Curry corrected automatically as he wrapped the reins around the hitching post and warily approached the lawman.
“Anything you say, Mister Jones.”
The Kid’s eyes widened when the sheriff gave him a big wink. His thoughts going a mile a minute, he turned to follow the lawman inside. Somewhere from behind he heard Heyes mutter something that sounded like, “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
Entering the Social Hall, Curry couldn’t help but stop and stare in wonder at the array of tempting foods. It made him light-headed to see such abundance all in one place.
The sheriff directed him towards an empty chair and Curry found himself standing next to an extremely attractive woman; Heyes was seated on her other side. Great, the sandy-haired outlaw groused silently, that meant they still wouldn’t have the chance to talk privately.
“Hey, Dolly, think ya can manage not to kill this one off, too? He’s a close friend of the Doc’s – uh, I mean, Mister Smith. We wanna make sure he gets what he needs without fearin’ for his life!”
Dolly glared at the lawman, then stood up to put her hands on her hips. “Why Sheriff Samuel Tate, I can’t believe ya jus’ said that to me!” she pouted indignantly, “I’m perfectly capable of givin’ the man what he needs without killin’ him!” Although the woman had done her best to sound angry, she ruined the effect by letting loose with a peal of infectious laughter. “Y’all go on with whatever it is you’re doin’ an’ jus’ leave him to me!”
The other diners joined in the congenial laughter while a bemused Curry grinned, struck with both her good looks and her vivaciousness. She was petite, with long blonde hair that curled about her face. She had a certain charm, along with a distinctive drawl that was packed full of southern warmth and hospitality. In short, the woman was a vision to behold.
Heyes rolled his eyes; the Kid hadn’t been in town ten minutes and already he was smitten!
Curry held the woman’s chair as she reseated herself. “You look plumb tuckered out; why don’t ya sit yourself down right here next to me,” she patted the empty chair with her hand, “Mister…?”
“Uh, Jones, ma’am,” Curry supplied as he belatedly removed his hat and dropped down into the proffered seat, “Thaddeus Jones.” Food was temporarily forgotten as he gazed with undisguised admiration at the woman beside him.
“Thaddeus…Jones,” Dolly repeated, then turned to the man on her right. “Joshua Smith?” When Heyes nodded, she turned back to face Curry, “and Jones?” Curry nodded again. “Boy, you two sure are original, ain’tcha?” she declared and gave Curry a pronounced wink.
The outlaw’s mouth dropped open in surprise. What was with these people, everybody winkin’ all the time? He shot his partner a look, but Heyes just shrugged his shoulders. The confused outlaw barely processed the fact when Dolly pressed a biscuit into his hand. He raised his hand automatically and chomped down on the still warm mound of dough.
“Hey, Thaddeus,” Heyes peered around Dolly in time to observe Curry fill his mouth. If Curry had been looking, he would have seen and recognized the devilish glint in his partner’s brown eyes. “I think it’s time to introduce you to this lovely lady sitting between us.” Heyes grinned. “She may know who you are, but you only know her first name,” he paused, “Mr. Thaddeus Jones, I’d like for you to meet Mrs. Dolly Hayes.”
“Mrs. Heyes?” The uneaten biscuit dropped from Curry’s hand as his eyes darted back and forth between the couple, “you’re married?” he whispered.
“No, Thaddeus, Dolly isn’t married,” Heyes chuckled at his partner’s misunderstanding of the situation, knowing all too well how he felt. “Well, that is she was, but she’s not anymore; now she’s the Widow Hayes; her husband is no longer with us.”
“Oh.” Then, hearing the laughter and catching the look on Heyes’ face, Curry realized that he’d been had; he’d walked right into that one! One of these days,…he shook his head, his own expression rueful.
He turned to Dolly, “I’m sorry, ma’am, sometimes I tend to get things confused,” he began only to be interrupted.
Dolly laid a hand on his arm, “No need to apologize, Thaddeus; in fact, I think you may have helped me solve a little problem I had.”
“I did?”
He received a dazzling smile in response. “Finish eating and then I’ll share it with you; I think you’ll be pleased with what I’ve decided.”
“That’s fine with me, ma’am,” Curry grinned as he sent Heyes, needing no further encouragement to do as she requested.
The rest of the meal progressed without incident; when Curry laid his fork to rest after his last bite of pie, Dolly turned to face him.
She dabbed at her mouth daintily with her napkin and leaned forward, keeping her voice low. “Well, Thaddeus Jones, what if I told ya that what I’ve decided is that I’d like ya to escort me while I show ya around our small town; what would ya say to that?”
Curry grinned like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “I’d say that sounds like a mighty smart decision, ma’am.”
“I had a feelin’ you’d approve; I think we’d best get started, if you’re ready.”
Curry nodded, then stood up and helped Dolly to her feet. As they passed behind Heyes, Curry put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “I’ll meet ya over in the saloon later, okay?”
Heyes nodded absently, his attention on the man across the table recounting last week’s poker games, sharing anecdotes about the various players and their eccentricities. As he listened, the outlaw filed the useful information away for future use.
The dark-haired outlaw smiled. From the sound of it, several of the miners enjoyed high-stakes games, but not many of them were fortunate enough to be big winners. If he and the Kid played their cards right, they could both leave Lone Butte a whole lot richer than when they’d rode in.
Outside the Social Hall, Dolly offered her arm to Curry, who obligingly took it. He tucked it inside the crook of his arm and placed a protective hand over it.
Dolly turned to look at her companion. “I hope ya don’t think I’m bein’ too forward by askin’ ya to go for a walk with me alone?
“Oh no, ma’am, I don’t think that at all,” Curry hastened to assure her, “I think you’re jus’ bein’ kind to a stranger, offerin’ to show me the sights, but I have to be honest with you,; I think I’m lookin’ at the most beautiful sight Lone Butte has to offer, right in front of me.”
“Why Thaddeus, I do believe that’s one of the nicest things anybody’s said to me in a long time. I think I’m goin’ to enjoy gettin’ better acquainted with you!”
Curry grinned, “Me too, ma’am.”
Dolly swatted his arm playfully, “Enough with the ‘ma’am’; you’re makin’ me feel like an’ old spinster auntie,” she protested, “call me Dolly, okay?”
“Yes ma’am – uh, I mean, Dolly.”
The woman shook her head and sighed, “Well, let’s get started; Lone Butte can be a pretty interestin’ town, ‘specially if you’ve got the right person to show ya around.”
“I think I’ve got the perfect person right beside me.”
“My, my, my, ya sure know the right words to say to a woman, dontcha? Seems as if I’ve got my work cut out for me, then.” She cast the sandy-haired man a speculative look. “You the adventurous kinda man, Thaddeus?”
“Adventurous, ma’am?” At Dolly’s pointed look he amended, “um, I mean, Dolly;” his own expression quizzical.
“Willin’ to take a chance; go off the main trail, so to speak. I know of a few spots that aren’t very popular with most folks, but they’re worth the trouble it takes to get there.” Dolly started walking, gently tugging Curry along with her. “Of course,” she continued thoughtfully, ‘they’d most likely be completely deserted; that might be a bit ‘too adventurous’…for a man like you.”
“A little peace ‘n quiet sounds like a real nice way to spend the afternoon… with a woman like you,” Curry countered.
“Peace ‘n quiet, hmm? You do have a way with words, Thaddeus,” Dolly gave his arm a squeeze as she stopped walking. “Our tour starts right here; look around, see anythin’ unusual?” she challenged.
After a cursory look around, Curry shrugged his shoulders. “Looks like any other small town I’ve been in.
“Take another look,” Dolly insisted.
“Nope,” Curry shook his head, “still nothin’.”
“Maybe you’re tryin’ too hard; I’ll give ya a clue. Start with the bank.”
With a tolerant smile, Curry did as requested. His eyes traveled the width and the length of the building, and then widened as they went upwards.
Dolly smiled.
“The hotel is sittin’ on top of the bank!” Curry exclaimed.
“Bingo!” she congratulated him, “don’t see that very often, do ya?”
“No, ma’am, ya sure don’t. Is it safe? I mean, don’t people try to break into it from inside the hotel?”
“No, folks say it’s too much work for most bank robbers, so the answer is no; no one’s ever bothered to try.”
“Guess not,” Curry shook his head, “so what other interestin’ things have you got planned to show me?”
“Come this way,” she tugged on his arm, “ there’s an old well back behind an abandoned building, jus’ on the outskirts of town. Hope ya don’t spooked too easy,” Dolly lowered her voice, “ ‘cos some folks claim it’s haunted.”
Curry smiled and allowed Dolly to continue leading him down the boardwalk, pointing out things along the way and fulfilling the duties of a well-informed tour guide.
Heyes was enjoying his second piece of pie, along with another cup of coffee as he continued to swap stories with the townspeople.
Sheriff Tate excused himself. “Sorry folks, a sheriff’s work is never done; I’ve got to go make my rounds an’ check in with the deputy. I won’t be gone long; be sure ‘n save a piece of that pie for me, will ya, Joshua?”
Heyes nodded and leaned back in his chair feeling the most relaxed he had in weeks.
“Hey, the outlaw interjected, “that story reminds me of the time…”
Curry and Dolly were strolling back towards the heart of the town. Their trip to the well had allowed the couple to become better acquainted. Neither of the two had either seen or heard anything to substantiate the well’s claim of legendary ghostly apparitions, which suited them just fine.
“I don’t know about you, but my throat is parched after all the talkin’ I’ve been doin’,” Dolly announced, “how ‘bout if we stop by the saloon for a drink?” she suggested.
Curry stopped to look at her.
Dolly rolled her eyes, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s all perfectly respectable. Mrs. Parker’s establishment is frequented by all the ladies an’ their gentlemen escorts. Besides all the usual drinks, they have fancy liqueurs, an’ sometimes they even have special music, if you’re lucky. C’mon, I’ll show ya.”
Once more Curry found himself pulled along in Dolly’s wake.
After they had found a place to sit, Dolly gave him a calculating look. “If ya had the choice, what would ya pick to drink?”
“Most of the time it’s beer or whiskey.”
“That wasn’t what I asked; I asked what would you choose?”
“Well, in that case, I’d say scotch; what about you?”
“Me?” Dolly laughed, “over the years, I think I’ve acquired a taste for a little bit of everythin.’ But tonight, I think I’ll join ya for for some of the best scotch the house has to offer. Let me go have a word with Jake; he owes me a favor, an’ I think I’ll collect on it right now.”
Curry watched her walk away, knowing that she knew he was watching. He grinned; he’d never met a woman quite like her before, and if the brief sample of her passion at the well was any indication, she was more than a little interested in him, too. He looked up as Dolly returned with a full bottle and two glasses on a tray and set it down on the table. He reached out a hand and picked up the scotch.
“Boy, that must be some big favor Jake owes ya, Dolly,” he whistled in appreciation as he read the label on the bottle, “this is the good stuff!”
“Let’s jus’ say I saved him an’ this place a few thousand dollars. This bottle of scotch is jus’ a drop in the bucket towards what he says he owes me.”
Curry opened the bottle and poured them each a glass.
Dolly raised hers in a toast. “Here’s to fate that brought two strangers together and allowed them to become friends.”
Curry raised his glass, clinking it gently against Dolly’s. “Maybe more than just friends,” he amended, his blue eyes looking deep into the woman’s seated across from him.
Meeting his gaze, Dolly hesitated, and then nodded. “More than friends, Thaddeus,” she agreed softly.
They both tossed back their drinks and set the empty glasses on the table, almost in unison. They laughed together as both drew in a deep breath when the fiery liquid raced down their throats, hit their stomachs and the warmth began to radiate through their bodies as it made its way back up.
“My goodness, that sure hit the spot!” Dolly gasped.
“You can say that again!” Curry agreed as he poured another glass for himself. He looked at Dolly.
“Oh yes, please. It’ll take more’n a little scotch to do me in!” she chuckled as she pushed her glass towards him.
As the afternoon progressed, Dolly made sure that Curry’s glass remained full. She nursed her second glass, sipping it slowly between words of encouragement for her companion to empty his.
She poured another glass of scotch and put it into an unresisting limp hand. “C’mon an’ drink up, darlin’,” she encouraged the outlaw, “the night’s still young.” She curled her fingers around his and guided the drink to his mouth.
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” she promised as she caressed his cheek with her hand. Dolly watched with a gleam of satisfaction as Curry obediently tilted his head back and drained the glass. He set the empty glass down, folded his arms on the table and dropped his head on them.
Dolly glanced away as a man stepped inside and walked towards the bar. After ordering, he turned and nonchalantly surveyed the room. His gaze turned in her direction, and Dolly inclined her head in a subtle nod at his raised eyebrows. He glanced at the man beside her and after a curt nod, he downed his drink and left the saloon.
Dolly ran her fingers through the sandy curls of the man sprawled out on the table beside her.
“It’s too bad, Thaddeus…or whoever you are; really a shame…” she sighed.
Heyes was on his third cup of coffee when the sheriff came bursting through the door.
“Doc! Hey, Doc, ya gotta come quick!”
The outlaw sat up, coffee forgotten.
“It’s Joshua Smith, Sheriff, remember?”
“Never ya mind about all that alias mumbo-jumbo; there’s two fellas waitin’ outside who say they’ve got a score to settle with ya.”
“A score to settle?” Heyes stood up. “With me? Sheriff, didn’t you explain to them that I’m not Doc Holliday?”
“Well, Doc, I tried tellin’ ‘em that you were Joshua Smith, but I guess they didn’t believe me.” The lawman’s voice was apologetic.
“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Heyes muttered in exasperation.
“Please, Doc; you’ve got to go out there,” the lawman pleaded, “they said that ‘lessen you came out in five minutes, they was comin’ in after ya, an’ it don’t matter to them who gets hurt.” Desperation crept into Tate’s voice, “At least go out there an’ talk to ‘em!”
Heyes shook his head, “It’s still Joshua, Sheriff, and I don’t think talkin’ is what they have in mind,” he answered, his tone grim. After a slight hesitation, he removed his gun from his holster and laid it on the table.
Tate looked at the man in shocked surprise. “Just what in the blue blazes do ya think you’re doin’? Are ya crazy? Without a gun…”
“Without a gun, I’m unarmed,” Heyes finished for the Sheriff. “They’re not going to shoot an unarmed man,” he stated firmly.
Pivoting about, Heyes left a gaping sheriff behind as he walked towards the door. Taking a deep breath, he shouldered his way through the batwings, his back ramrod straight, his stride unfaltering and a look of determination on his face.
It was easy enough to identify the two men. One appeared to be middle-aged, while the other looked like a teenager. They stood together side by side in the middle of the street, facing the saloon. Both looked like they were spoiling for a fight.
Heyes hooked his thumbs in his belt and forced a smile to his face. “Evening gentlemen; the sheriff tells me you fellas asked to see me, so here I am. What can I do for you?” his voice was neutral, almost pleasant.
“You can draw, Doc!” the older of the two growled.
“Draw? On the two of you?” Heyes gave a snort of laughter and elevated his brow. “Now why would I want to do that? I’m not that brave or that stupid, but more importantly, I’m not armed.” He patted his empty holster.
The two men looked as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing and exchanged a glance.
“As you, and all these other witnesses,” Heyes looked around at the crowd, “can plainly see, I’m not wearing a gun.” He slowly opened his coat and patted the pockets one by one, to illustrate his point.
The townspeople smiled and nodded their heads, readily agreeing with ‘Doc’s’ words.
His tone still calm and even, Heyes continued. “And everyone knows that it’s against the law to shoot an unarmed man – like me – I’ll leave, unless there’s something else on your minds?”
Receiving insolent glares for an answer, the dark-haired man’s appearance underwent a split-second transformation. His eyes darkened, turning cold and hard, the slight smile vanished and was replaced by lips pressed together in a firm line, his expression unyielding. His stance was resolute. Even without a gun, the man looked dangerous. And that was what mattered to the citizens of Lone Butte.
After exchanging another look, the younger man stepped away to stand beside one of the male spectators. With a sudden lunge, he removed the surprised man’s gun from his holster.
“Here, catch!” He tossed the weapon at Heyes.
Instinctively putting his hands up, Heyes caught the gun in mid-air.
“Now you’re armed,” the young man smirked.
“And, in case you’re countin’, Doc, there’s also only one of us now,” the older man pointed out. “Put the gun in your holster,” he ordered as he pulled his own weapon to back up his words.
Heyes deliberated for a few seconds, and then looked down at the weapon in his hand. “Seems a shame for me to have to shoot you, mister, when I don’t even know your name;” he raised his eyes to stare into the stranger’s face.
“You’ve got a point Doc; a man should know the name of the man who’s gonna kill him. My name’s Carter, Wes Carter an’ you’re the man who killed my little brother. His name was Adam, an’ he was jus’ a snot-nosed kid; didn’t know any better, not that it mattered to you, none. He’d been drinkin’ an’ playin’ cards with you that night; said you wuz cheatin’ an’ drew on you. You could’ve jus’ winged him, he was so stinkin’ drunk he could barely stand, let alone hit the side of the barn, but no! You never even gave that boy a chance. At least I’m doin’ that much by you.”
Heyes never took his eyes off the man while he told his tale. “Sometimes there isn’t time enough to think.”
“That don’t matter now; what does, is that Adam’s dead and I’m here to make things right for him.”
“And what’s he here for?” Heyes turned to stare at the younger man. “You have a score to settle with me, too?”
Alarmed to find himself the center of attention, the boy turned to Wes in mute appeal.
“His name’s Steve Wilson,” Wes snapped, “Steve was Adam’s best friend an’ he’s here in case I miss.
The young man nodded vigorously, “Adam didn’t deserve to die like that!”
“I don’t suppose it would do me any good to try and tell you that I’m not Doc Holliday, would it?”
“You guessed right, Doc,” Wes sneered, “so quit stallin’ and let’s get this over with. Now put that gun in your holster or I’ll drop you right where you stand, jus’ like you did Adam!”
Realizing that he was out of aces, Hannibal Heyes slowly holstered the borrowed gun.
With a satisfied smile on his weathered face, Wes put his own weapon back into his holster and took a gunfighter’s stance.
People scattered.
Inside Mrs. Parker’s, Dolly had managed to get Curry to sit almost upright and was trying to coax the man into leaving with her when the excitement started.
“Hey everybody, Doc Holliday’s gonna shoot it out with two gunfighters in front of the saloon right now!” someone yelled through the doors.
Hearing the announcement, everyone rushed out the door, anxious to watch the famous legend in action.
Curry shook his head to clear it, and got to his feet.
Dolly jumped up and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, holding him tight. “No, Thaddeus, you can’t go out there, not like this. Let him handle it by himself, please?”
Curry shook his head again. “Lemme go, I have to, he’s my friend! ” he insisted stubbornly.
“No you don’t, you need to stay right here with me,” Dolly tried to push him back down into his chair.
Yanking his arm free, Curry took a step towards the door. The room began to spin and blur; he swayed and grabbed the table to steady himself.
“See, Thaddeus, ya can’t help him if ya can’t even stand up on your own two feet!”
“He needs me,” Curry said and stumbled off.
“Damn ya, Jones, damn ya all the way to hell!” she cursed the man who was single-handedly ruining her life. Brody wasn’t going to just let this go.
She took off after the drunk, catching up with him as he stood on the top stair of the boardwalk.
Heyes stepped into the middle of the street; the absence of noise created an eerie mood. Then, as the two men faced off against each other, there was a subtle change; the atmosphere shifted once more.
“Trouble?” a quiet voice from somewhere behind and over Heyes’ left shoulder drawled.
“Not really. We’re just having ourselves a friendly little conversation,” Heyes answered smoothly, his brown eyes locked with those of his opponent’s.
“Well then, in that case it shouldn’t be a problem if another ‘friend’ joins in, should it?” Curry said, slurring slightly.
Dolly grabbed his arm in one last attempt to detain him, “Thaddeus, please, listen…”
Curry shrugged her hands off roughly, pushing her away. His voice was ominously quiet. “You can’t stop me,” he growled.
The man’s tone caused Dolly to shiver, despite the afternoon heat. She looked into eyes that had been a warm and friendly blue earlier, and glimpsed the steely coldness of the winter blizzard they now held. She backed away in defeat.
Curry deliberately took his time to navigate painstakingly down the few steps that separated the boardwalk from the street, and then walked over to his partner’s right side.
At the same time, Steve sidled over to join Wes; the look on the young man’s face betrayed his motive. He moved to benefit from the older man’s protection, not to lend Wes support.
The two sets of men stood facing one another in the middle of the street; Curry glanced down at Heyes’ holster and did a double take.
“Now where in tarnation did ya get such a pathetic excuse for a gun?” He gave a sarcastic laugh as he yanked the weapon free to examine it more closely. “Why, this little pea-shooter wouldn’t hurt a flea!” He dismissed it derisively. All eyes were on the sandy-haired man as he bent over to lay the weapon on the ground.
When he straightened up, Curry’s own Colt .45 cleared leather, almost seeming to leap into his hand, the business end pointing directly at Wes and Steve, both of whom had gone slack-jawed at the impressive display.
“Let’s go over things once again, friends. In case you haven’t noticed, my friend here is unarmed; he doesn’t have a gun, he can’t shoot you. Now me, I’m a whole ‘nother matter. I AM armed. I DO have a gun. And I WILL shoot you. Either of you feelin’ lucky today?”
Steve wasted no time in taking a step backwards, shaking his head, while Wes looked as if he was sorry he had ever bothered to get up that morning.
Still holding his gun on them, Curry continued, “You fellas got mighty quiet all of a sudden; anythin’ else you want to say to my friend here?”
Wes and Steve remained mute, making sure their hands never strayed anywhere near their guns.
“Well, guess my friend an’ me will jus’ have to go on back to what we were doin’ before you two walk-offs interrupted us. I don’t ‘spect we’ll be runnin’ into either of ya for the rest of our stay here in Lone Butte.” Curry pinned the two men with a piercing steely-eyed glare, “will we?”
The two men gave vigorous shakes of their heads while Steve added a fervent, “No sir!” for good measure.
“Then git!”
Curry’s words had the effect of dynamite. Steve and Wes tripped over their own two feet, and stumbled over each other in their eagerness to comply. Within minutes, all that remained was a cloud of dust.
Curry spun his Colt on his finger, ending with a flourish as he holstered it, much to the delight of the crowd that had begun to gather again.
There was even a faint smattering of applause at the impressive gunmanship now that the danger was over. The small town was abuzz with excitement.
“Now don’t that beat all?”
“I never seen anything like it?”
“Wasn’t that somethin’? That Wyatt, he sure showed ‘em!”
“Nobody’s THAT fast!”
“Did ya see him draw? I never saw him draw! Just like lightnin’!”
“Neither the Doc or Wyatt ever looked afraid; they was jus’ as cool ‘n calm as if it were nothin’!”
“Boy, wish I could draw like that!”
“That whole time they never shot anyone; never fired their guns, not even once. I don’t know how, sure thought they was gonna have to, though.”
“That Wyatt sure stuck up fer the Doc; now that’s a real friend for ya.”
The comments continued to flow around the town’s two newfound ‘celebrities’. With the threat of danger erased from their little community, the proud townspeople were eager to share their approval of the way the Doc and Wyatt had handled things.
Heyes turned to face Curry just as Curry turned to face Heyes.
“You know I didn’t need your help, don’t you?” Heyes scowled at his partner. “ I was doing fine on my own.”
“Uh, huh, sure Heyes, next time you get in a gunfight, I’ll let you handle it on your own.” His thumbs hooked into his belt, Curry’s blue eyes never blinked. He shrugged, and then looked over Heyes’ shoulder at the lights still shining in the social hall.
“’Course if you insist on interfering, I can’t stop you,” added Heyes.
“C’mon, let’s go see if there’s any of that food left…Doc!” Curry chuckled as he slung an arm across his partner’s shoulders.
Heyes pulled his head away from the Kid. “Sheesh, just how much have you had to drink, anyway? I thought you were a little slow on the draw back there.”
“I’m still faster than you drunk or sober, partner.” Curry turned and promptly tripped on his own feet.
Sat 21 Mar 2015, 1:30 am by royannahuggins