Has Kid Curry back-slid into a life of crime?  Has Hannibal Heyes betrayed his partner’s trust?  Find out in Penski’s – The Accomplice.











Wearing heavy coats and bandanas that covered their faces, the two men held the three bank employees at gunpoint.  Frozen in place, the male teller visibly trembled as he watched the female teller throw stacks of bills onto the counter.  The woman glared defiantly at the man who held his gun on her.  When the robber noticed her eyes travel down to his neck, he quickly tugged at his collar to hide a visible scar.

Meanwhile, using one hand, the blond gunman was busy throwing the stacks of money into a bag as soon as she put them down.

Red-faced and sweating profusely, the third employee was seated at a desk just a few feet away. The name plate on his desk read "Kenneth Carlin, Bank President."

“Let’s go!” cried the other robber, waving his gun at the other two people.

“I’m comin’!”  The blond put the last of the stacks of money in his bag and headed towards his partner.

As the robbers made their way to the door, the bank president reached into a desk drawer and slowly withdrew a gun.

A shot went off and a moment later the banker slouched face down onto his accounting book.

The female teller screamed and the male teller dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

The two men passed an 1882 calendar showing the month of May as they cautiously left the bank.  They hurried by a large window with the gold-leaf words ‘Bank of Rocky Point’ lettered on it, jumped on their horses tethered outside, and galloped out of town.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A man stared out of the barred window onto the main street of the town.  He watched some rowdy cowboys coming out of the saloon, two women hurrying into the mercantile with baskets, and children with jackets playing tag.  He noticed some golden leaves falling from an aspen tree.  His eyes flickered with interest as two men rode into town – one wearing a black hat and the other a brown floppy hat.  The man in the jail thought a moment and then smiled.  He turned and walked towards the cell door.



“Hey, Sheriff!  Sheriff Adams!”

The sheriff walked back by the cells.  “What is it?”

“I’m ready to confess who my partner was at the bank robbery.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were sitting in a saloon at a poker table playing cards and drinking beer.

The sheriff and deputy walked into the saloon and glanced around the room.

Curry and Heyes made eye contact.



The sheriff walked up to their table.  “Thaddeus Jones?” he asked, looking at Heyes.

“I’m Thaddeus Jones,” Curry informed them.  “Is there a problem, Sheriff?”

“I’d say – you’re under arrest for robbing our bank in May and for attempted murder.”  The sheriff and his deputy drew their weapons.  “Put your gun on the table and scoot your chair back.”

Heyes gave an imperceptible nod and the Kid complied.

The deputy took the Colt and put it in his own holster.

“Now stand up slowly and let’s take a walk to the jail,” the sheriff ordered.

“Ah, Sheriff, I’m Mr. Jones’ friend, Joshua Smith.  I’m sure there’s been some kinda mistake.”  Heyes put down his cards and gathered the money in front him and then did the same with the Kid’s pile.  “Mind if I come with you?”

“Give your gun to my deputy and you can, Mr. Smith.”

Heyes handed his Schofield to the deputy and the four men walked out of the saloon, across the street and to the jail.

Once they were inside, the sheriff had Thaddeus Jones sit down in a chair.

“I can assure you that my friend didn’t rob this bank,” Heyes said as he stood behind his partner, a supportive hand resting on his shoulder.  “When did this robbery happen?”

“Six months ago, towards the end of May,” the sheriff informed them.

“I’ve never been to Rocky Point before,” the Kid argued.

“Well, your partner in the robbery identified you as his accomplice as well as the one who shot Mr. Carlin, the bank president.”

“My partner?”  Curry glanced towards Heyes, his confusion evident.

“The bank president… Did he die in this robbery?” Heyes asked.

“No, but he died two months ago of pneumonia.”  The sheriff locked Curry’s Colt in a drawer and put Heyes’ gun in another drawer.  “Clay, go get Gleason to make sure we picked up the right man.”

“Sure, Sheriff.”  The deputy took a ring of keys off a hook on the wall and went through a door to the hallway of cells.  He stopped in front of a cell and unlocked it.  “Gleason, we picked up your partner and the sheriff wants you to identify him.”

Gleason grinned as he walked out into the office.  “Yep, that’s my partner alright, Sheriff – Thaddeus Jones.”

“Why you…”  Curry leapt from his chair while Heyes pushed him back down.

“Calm down!” demanded the sheriff.  “So you’re admitting you do know him?”

Curry sighed and slumped in his chair.  “Yeah, I know him, but he’s not my partner.”

“How do you know him?” Heyes asked.  “I’ve never seen him before.”

Curry looked at Heyes.  “Remember when we took separate delivery jobs in spring and I lost the coin toss?  You went to Denver and I had to go to Cripple Creek.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I played poker with Gleason and spotted him cheatin’ – he was usin’ the ‘crimp’.  I called him on it and he made the first punch.  I hit back and may have busted some of his teeth.”

“Gleason told us about that.  He also told us about you two getting together again to rob our bank.”

“Gleason is lying!” Heyes stated.  “You just have his word about being Thaddeus’ partner in the robbery.”

“No, we also have two witnesses – the bank tellers.”  The sheriff pulled out his pocket watch and saw it was close to 5:00 p.m.  “Clay, tell them to come here as soon as they can.  The bank should be closing soon.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The sheriff checked his pocket watch again – 5:20 p.m.

Just then, the deputy walked into the jail with two people, a man in his late 40’s and a woman in her 50’s.  “Here they are, Sheriff.”

“Deputy Jackson said you wanted to see us, Sheriff Adams?” the man asked as he took off his hat and nervously fingered the brim.

“Thanks for coming; hopefully this will only take a few minutes.  I want to see if you can identify the man sitting here as the second robber, the one who shot Ken Carlin.  Joe?”

“Well,” the man hesitated as he touched his glasses.  “I’m not sure.  It could be.”  He paused as he squinted.  “Yes, I think it could be the man.”

“Celia?” the sheriff asked.

“It looks like the man; however, he did have a heavy coat and a bandana over his face when he robbed the bank.”

“Clay, get your jacket.  Mr. Jones, if you would stand and put on this jacket and tie your bandana over your face.”  The sheriff handed the Kid the deputy’s jacket.

With a sigh of resignation, Curry stood and put the jacket on.  With reluctance, he untied his bandana from around his neck and put it on as a mask over his nose and mouth.

The female teller stared hard at the man, never blinking for a full minute.  “That’s him, Sheriff! Celia cried.  That’s the man that robbed me and shot Mr. Carlin!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said after pondering a moment and looking towards Joe.

“Thank you for your time, Joe and Celia.”  The sheriff ushered the two tellers out the door and turned to Curry.  “Thaddeus Jones, like I said before, you’re under arrest for robbing the bank last spring and shooting Ken Carlin.”

“But, Sheriff, I’ve never been to Rocky Point before!  I didn’t rob this bank!” the Kid professed his innocence as the sheriff grabbed his arm and led him to the cells.  “Joshua, tell them,” Curry called out over his shoulder.  “We’ve never been here before.”

“He’s right, we haven’t, Sheriff.  I know for certain that Thaddeus didn’t rob this bank,” Heyes said as he watched his partner being led away.  “In fact, we were on a job all of May and June down in Texas.  You could contact our employer…”

“You can tell that to a jury, but I don’t think a friend’s word is going to hold up more than Gleason’s confession and two witnesses identifying him.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next day, Heyes hesitated at the door that read ‘Samuel Cole, Esq., Attorney at Law’.  He sighed, put a smile on his face and entered.  “Good morning!  I find myself in need of a lawyer.”  He paused, then amended, “Actually, it’s my friend who needs one.”

The lawyer stood and walked around his desk to the door.  “Samuel Cole.”  He held out his hand.

“Joshua Smith.”  Heyes shook the proffered hand.

“And your friend would be Thaddeus Jones, accused yesterday of robbing our bank and shooting Mr. Carlin in May.”

“News travels fast, I see.”

“It usually does in small towns.”  Cole walked back to his chair behind his desk.  “Have a seat,” he offered.

Heyes sat down.  “You see, my friend and I have never been to Rocky Point until yesterday.  I know for a fact he did not rob this bank.”

“Well, Mr. Smith, I can tell you it does not look good for your friend, Mr. Jones.  His partner, Walt Gleason…”  Samuel Cole raised his hand to stop Heyes from interrupting.  “His possible partner identified him as the shooter and so did the two witnesses, who are reputable citizens of Rocky Point.  Joe Darby is a husband, a father, and even an usher at the church.  Celia Miller’s mother died when she was young and Celia stayed with her father until he died.  I can tell you he was not a very nice man and folks around here give her a lot of credit for staying with him.  Both witnesses are looked upon favorably in the community.  I just want you to know the facts we are facing ahead of time.”

“I still say my friend is not partners with Gleason and neither of us has been to Rocky Point before,” Heyes argued.

“Well, let’s figure out a way to get the jury to believe that.”  Samuel pulled a pad of paper from his desk and picked up his pen.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A stagecoach rolled into town and dropped off a male passenger near the hotel.  He got his bag from the driver and turned to enter the hotel.

“Good day.”  He put his carpetbag on the counter.  “I would like to rent a room for a few days.”

“Sure.”  The hotel clerk turned the registry towards the man and handed him a pen.  “What brings you to Rocky Point, Mr...”  The clerk turned the book around, “Mr. Malcolm Brent?”

“I’m a reporter for the Salt Lake Chronicle and here to interview the bank robbers.”

“Not much ever happens in Rocky Point,” the hotel clerk informed the reporter.  “I’m surprised they even caught those bank robbers.  Thank goodness there were witnesses who identified them.”

“Witnesses?” Brent questioned.

“Yep, the two bank tellers – Joe Darby and Celia Miller.  Both are exceptional citizens in our town.  Your room will be number 207.  Just go up the stairway and turn to the right.  If you need anything, let me know.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes walked out of the lawyer’s office towards the saloon when he saw the male teller walking away from the bank.  He hurried and caught up with him.  “It’s Joe Darby, right?”

Darby turned towards Heyes.  “You’re a friend of that bank robber.  I shouldn’t be talking to you since I’ll be testifying in a court against your friend.”

Heyes put a smile on his face.  “It just seemed like you were unsure when you identified Thaddeus as the robber and shooter.”

“Well, I’m more sure now and I have a duty to this community to testify.”

“What do you mean, you're more sure now?  Did Gleason’s confession or Miss Miller’s identification influence you?” Heyes asked.

“N-no; I wasn’t influenced,” Darby stuttered.  “I… I just wanted to be sure.”

Heyes tipped his hat.  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Darby.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes and Samuel Cole walked over to a house with a white picket fence and a beautiful flower garden in front.

A lady picking flowers stopped and smiled at the pair who stopped in front of her house.  “Hello, Sam.”

“Coralee, I’d like to introduce you to Joshua Smith.  Is Mr. Darby at home?”

“I’m afraid he’s not right now.  He’s coming back from the doctor’s soon.”

“Oh, is he unwell?” Heyes asked.

“He’s fine, just getting an adjustment to his new glasses,” Coralee assured the men.

“That’s right; he’s had new glasses since…?”

“I guess they’re hardly new,” Coralee laughed.  “He’s had them for about six months.”

“Did he have them before the robbery or after?” Sam inquired.

Mrs. Darby thought a moment.  “After.  Soon after he started wearing his new glasses, he commented how beautiful the garden looked from across the street.  It used to be blurry before to him – why, he couldn’t even see across a room.”

“Will you please let your husband know we came by?”

“I certainly will, Sam.”

“Joe Darby couldn’t even see across a room during the robbery,” Heyes muttered to the lawyer.  “How could he identify the robbers?”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The reporter walked into the sheriff’s office.  “Good afternoon, Sheriff.  My name is Malcolm Brent and I’m a reporter for the Salt Lake Chronicle.  I was wondering if I could interview the robbers for a story.”

“Walt Gleason will probably give you an interview, but I doubt Thaddeus Jones will.  He hasn’t been talking much since I arrested him.”  The sheriff stood.  “Leave the gun and I’ll take you back there.”  

Brent removed his gun, placed it on the desk and followed the sheriff to the cells.  Curry lay on his cot with his hat covering his place as they passed his cell and a few empty ones.  

“Keeping these two as separate as I can.  Jones there ain’t happy with his partner pointing him out,” the sheriff explained.  “Hey Gleason, this reporter from the Salt Lake Chronicle wants to talk to you.  You can have ten minutes back here,” the sheriff informed the visitor as he went back to his desk.

Walt Gleason quickly came over to the cell by Brent.  After making sure Curry was still lying on his cot, he hissed quietly, “About time you got here, Mal!”

“I can’t believe you even contacted me.  We agreed to go our own ways after splitting the $40,000,” Malcolm Brent spoke quietly.

“I didn’t have much of a choice and you were the one who shot the old man.”

“How did they figure out it was you anyways?” questioned the “reporter.”

“I got stupid and drunk a few weeks ago.  A sheriff arrested me and found some of the bank money on me.  Next thing I knew, I was bein’ sent back to Rocky Point.”  Gleason grabbed the bars.  “You’d better get me outta here or I’m gonna turn you in, too!”

“I already took a risk coming here.”

“That’s why I put that Jones fella in your place; no one will think you were my accomplice.  Besides, I owe it to Jones for busting out a couple of my teeth in Cripple Creek.”

“I could just walk out and leave town,” Malcolm Brent threatened.

“You won’t.”  Gleason smirked.  “You have a business in Denver and a wife and kids.  You’d have to walk away from it all if I talk.”

Brent sighed.  “Okay, I’ll get you out and then we’re done.”

“Make it quick!” Gleason hissed as Brent began to walk away.

Brent stopped in front of Curry’s cell.  “Mr. Jones, do you have anything you want to say?”

The Kid picked up his hat and glared at the reporter, who quickly left.



Brent collected his gun from the sheriff.  “Thanks for letting me interview the guy.  You were right about Thaddeus Jones not wanting to talk.”

“Anytime.”  The sheriff turned to the door as Brent left and Darby entered.  “Joe, what are you doing here?”

“Sheriff, I’ve been thinking and I’m not sure about Thaddeus Jones being one of the robbers.”

“Have a seat.”  The sheriff and Darby sat across from the desk.  “You were sure and now you’re not?  Even his partner identified him.  What changed your mind?”

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking.  I can’t say for certain and an innocent man could go to jail.”  Darby paused a moment.  “Back when the bank was robbed, I couldn’t really see across the room, but now I can with my new glasses.  I just can’t be sure and, well, folks asked Coralee about it.”

“Folks?  Who?”

“Sam Cole and that friend of Mr. Jones.”

“They asked Coralee about what?” the sheriff asked.

“Well, it was mentioned that my sight wasn’t the best.”  Darby adjusted his new glasses.  “I just don’t think I could swear on a Bible that Thaddeus Jones was one of the robbers.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes entered the café and glanced around the busy room.  He saw Celia Miller sitting by herself and walked up to her.  “Excuse me.  It’s busy in here; mind if I join you?”

Celia looked around and saw the tables full, including a table with Malcolm Brent nearby.  She looked at the reporter intently and then smiled.  “Be my guest.  I’m about finished and you can have my table.”

Heyes sat down.  “Thank you.  What’s good on the menu today?”

“Just about everything is good.  I had the chicken dinner.”

A waitress came up to the table.  “I’ll have the chicken dinner,” Heyes informed her.  He leaned into the table.  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Not at all.”  Celia sipped her cup of tea.

“It’s just that you seemed to be looking at Mr. Darby before you identified Thaddeus, like you were unsure.  Mr. Darby is going to withdraw his identification of Mr. Jones as the robber.”

“He should if he’s not sure.”

“And you are sure?”

“Afraid I am.”

“I wish I knew why you were so certain.  You see, I’ve known Thaddeus for a long time and know he’s never been to Rocky Point before…”

The sheriff walked up to the table.  “Mr. Smith, are you tampering with one of the witnesses?”

Celia stood up to leave.  “I know what I saw and will testify about what I saw in court.  Good day, Mr. Smith… Sheriff.”

“I’m warning you, Mr. Smith, don’t obstruct justice.  Let the lawyers do their work in a court of law.”  The sheriff walked past Brent as he left the café.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Celia sat at a small desk writing on a piece of paper in her parlor.  When she was finished, she folded the paper and stamped it before she placed it in a small wooden box.  Then she carried it across the room and put the box on the top shelf of her armoire.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes came into the jail.  “Deputy, do you mind if I talk to my friend?”

The deputy put down the book he was reading.  “Nope.  Just leave your gun and you can go on back there.”

Heyes removed his Schofield, placed it on the desk and walked back to the cells.  “Howdy, Thaddeus.”

Curry stood up and walked over to the bars.  “Where’ve you been?”



“Busy getting you free.”

“So why am I still in here?”

Heyes frowned.  “It’s not that easy.”

“I see you hired me a lawyer.”

“Yeah, Cole is pretty sharp for a small town lawyer.”

“Them two tellers still insistin’ it was me?”

“Well, Joe Darby isn’t so certain anymore…”

“That’s good news, right?” the Kid asked, hopefully.

“But Celia Miller is still saying it was you.”

“That’s bad news.”  Curry’s expression was glum.

Heyes nodded.  “I talked to her in the café, but she’s not changing her story.  Watched her go to work this morning – she lives above the hardware store.”  He glanced back to the other cell and saw Gleason staring.  “Have you seen or heard anything here at the jail?”

Curry shrugged.  “Some reporter came and talked to Gleason.”

“Not to you?”

“Guess I wasn’t in a talkin’ mood.  They did a lot of whisperin’.”

“They whispered?  Did you hear what they said?”

“No.”  Curry sighed.  “Joshua, this is startin’ to remind me of Santa Marta all over again.  At least this time it ain’t a hangin’ offense.”  He grabbed the bars with both hands.  “You are gonna get me outta this mess, aren’t you?”

“Kid,” Heyes whispered so only Curry could hear.  “I’m not gonna let you go to prison.  Just go through the trial and hopefully Thaddeus Jones will not be guilty.  If he is found guilty, Jones will be running from the law for a long time.”

“That’s not very encouragin’ and there’ll go my amnesty.”

‘It’s the best I can do for now.  I won’t give up – don’t you, either.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Joshua,” Curry answered, not sounding in the least convinced.

“I’ll come back and see you tomorrow.”

Kid Curry heaved a deep sigh when his partner left.  He trudged away from the cell door and slumped down on the cot to stare at the stone walls of the jail.  “It’s hard not to give up when you’re on this side of the bars.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Celia Miller took a book off her table and walked over to the hotel.  “Good evening, William.”

The clerk behind the desk turned.  “Good evening, Celia.  What are you doing out this late?”

“I promised Mrs. Hochstetler a book.”  Miller held up the book for him to see.

“She sure has been lonely since her husband passed away.”  William looked at a clock.  “Usually she retires for the evening about 9:30.”

“Oh, I know it’s late, but I did promise.  If there’s a light under her door, I’ll knock or else I’ll just leave.”

Celia went up the flight of stairs and turned right, knocking on door 207.

“Who is it?” asked a male voice.

“It is Celia Miller.  Please let me in.”

Malcolm Brent opened the door.  “Ma’am, you’ll get a reputation visiting me this late in the evening.”

“My good reputation in this town will save me and you, Mr. Brent.”  She walked in and he shut the door.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“In a safe place I have a box that contains my mother’s wedding ring, my birth certificate, some coins I collected as a child, and a letter to the county prosecutor in case of a violent or sudden death.”

Brent furrowed his brow.  “And why are you telling me this?”

“Mr. Jones did not shoot the banker – you did.  It’s all in that letter.”

Malcolm swallowed.  “You should see the sheriff if you think I did the robbing.”

“Very well.”  Celia turned to leave.

“One moment – you interest me, as a reporter.  Would you like a drink?” he offered.  When she shook her head no, he poured himself a drink.  “What are you basing this on?”

“Your eyes.  I got a real good look at that bank robber's eyes."  She met his gaze squarely.

“Did it occur to you that the man who robbed the bank had blond hair?”

Celia walked over to the chest of drawers and picked up a comb.  “Most women know about hair dye, Mr. Brent.  Shall I rinse it to prove a point?”

“If I was the robber, I would gag and tie you up and then ride out of town fast.”

Celia walked over to Brent and put a hand on his lapel.  “There is an accurate description of a scar on the robber’s neck…”  She pulled down his right collar.  “This scar… in my letter.  You cannot have your collar turned up all the time.”  She smiled.  “And you cannot run forever.”

“What do you want?” he growled.

“$10,000.”

“$10,000?!”

Celia shrugged.  “You stole $40,000.  Surely you didn’t spend it already.”

“But I didn’t get $40,000!  I had a partner, remember?”

Celia shrugged.  “I remember.  You can decide if your freedom is worth $10,00.”

“You’ll keep your mouth shut for that amount of money?”

“Indeed, I will!” she promised.

“When you identified Thaddeus Jones, did you know?”

“It was an honest mistake which I didn’t realize I made it until I saw you in the café,” she admitted.

Brent stared her in the eyes.  “You can send an innocent man to prison?”

“I live by a rule,” Celia said confidently.  “You have to look out for yourself.”

“But you’re just a small-time woman in a small town with a small conscience.”

“Mr. Brent, my ‘small conscience’ disappeared long ago.  I took care of my father who was a cripple,” Celia spat out the word with disdain.  “I worked hard to support us both and worked even harder to care for him and our home.  While I worked, he was squandering my inheritance money away playing cards and drinking with his friends all day.

“One day, I came home from working all day at the bank and he was dead and his crutches were leaning in the other room.  He died not having a penny to his name.  My father lived a lie – he never was a cripple!  He used me to support him for twelve years!  Twelve whole years, Mr. Brent!  I want $10,000 more than you could possibly know.”

“What will you do?  How will you explain it?  You just can’t come into that much money without others asking questions.”

“I won’t be here.  I shall go to Rome with a wedding ring on my right hand, like widows wear them, and possibly remarry.  You know, widows can marry old while spinsters cannot.”

“If you identify Jones as the shooter in court and later change your mind, you’ll be arrested for perjury,” Brent stated.

“I won’t be changing my mind like Joe Darby did!”

Brent sighed.  “I don’t have that kind of money on me.  It’ll take me a few days to get it together.”

“I’m willing to wait.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Malcolm Brent walked into a saloon and stood at the bar next to two men.  “A whiskey,” he ordered from the bartender.

When the bartender left the area, the man closest to Brent whispered, “Gleason said you would pay us $50 for the job.”

“Gleason was wrong,” Brent hissed.  “$10.”

“Not for what you want us to do.  It’s going to cost you $50.”

“I can do it myself and save me the cost,” Brent argued.

“And your cover will be blown.  You could be identified as the second robber.”

“Fine, $50.  I’ll pay you when the job is done.”  Brent swallowed his drink and walked out of the saloon.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Celia Miller was driving a horse and carriage down a deserted road when Malcolm Brent appeared on a horse.

“Here’s your money,” he said as he handed her a carpetbag.

She took the bag and put it on the floor of the carriage.  “Thank you.”

“Aren’t you going to count it?”

“When I get back to town I will.”  She picked up the reins to go.  “I’m sure you paid me the entire $10,000.”

“Wait, don’t I get that letter?”

Celia smiled.  “You just bought my silence so the letter stays put until such a time when I feel safe in Rome.  I’m not stupid, Mr. Brent.”

“No, you’re not stupid, Miss Miller,” he agreed.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Two men rode into town late in the night and tied their horses in an alley near the jail.  They walked to the entrance and loudly banged on the door.  “Sheriff!”

Deputy Jackson was startled awake.  “Just a minute, hold your horses!”  He stood and got the key to open the door.  As he peered out the window, the glass broke and a gun was stuck into his gut.  “Open the door, now!”

“Okay!  Don’t shoot!”  The deputy unlocked the door and let the men in.

“Now get the keys to the cells!” one of the men demanded.

The deputy got the key ring and was pushed down the hallway of cells until they got to Gleason’s cell.  Thaddeus Jones sat up on his cot and watched quietly.  The men took the keys and unlocked Gleason’s door.

“Come on – let’s go!” Gleason demanded as he was released and walked quickly to the front.

One of men pushed the deputy in front of him and hit him on the head, knocking the lawman unconscious.  The keys lay on the floor next to him as the three men left.  Malcolm Brent was waiting outside with their horses.  He handed the two men their reins and their money.  All four men rode out of town at a hard gallop.  The two hired men took off in one direction while  Brent and Gleason went in another.

The Kid stood by the bars as close as he could to the fallen lawman.  “Deputy!  Hey deputy!” he called.  When there was no answer, Curry knelt and reached out his arm to try and snag the keys.  Still out of his reach, he stood and removed his belt and used it to drag the keys towards him.  Moments later, he slipped out of the jail and into the night.

Staying in the dark alleys and shadows, the Kid made his way across the street from the hotel.  He spotted his partner leaving the lobby and sighed with frustration as he watched Heyes enter the saloon.  “He’ll be in there awhile,” Curry mumbled to himself.  Leaning back on a building, he saw the hardware store.  A single light above the store extinguished.  The Kid thought a moment.  “It can’t hurt.”  He cautiously made his way to the other side of the street behind the store and climbed the stairs.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Kid Curry put a hand across Celia Miller’s mouth as she woke with a start.  

“I’m not gonna to hurt you, I promise!  I just wanna talk to you.”  He carefully removed his hand from her mouth.  “I want you to take a good look at me.  A good long look.  I wasn’t the man who robbed the bank, was I?”

“You want to force me to change my testimony?” Celia asked as she sat up in bed.

“No, I want you to realize you’re wrong and I was never in this town.”

“I can’t identify you if you’re not in court,” she declared.

“If I’m not in court?” Curry repeated slowly.  “Are you tellin’ me to run?”

Celia nodded.

“So I’ll be afraid to light a fire and know folks are followin’ me for the rest of my life?  I don’t wanna live my life like that!  I won’t do that!”

“Please,” she pleaded.  “Leave this town.  I can’t help you by saying you weren’t the robber!  It’ll be easier for both of us.”

“Why do you want me to run?”  The Kid stood up and paced a few steps.  “You know I’m not the man who did the robbin’ and shootin’.  You don’t want me on your conscience, do you?”

“Unless you run, I have no choice but to identify you!” Celia stated.  “Now go,” she pointed towards the door, “and leave this town so I don’t have to testify against you!”

All out of aces, the Kid sighed in defeat and left Celia’s room.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The sheriff quickly organized a posse.  “You head north and the rest of you head south along the ridge.”

Heyes walked up to the sheriff.  “Think you’ll catch them?”

“Eventually!” the sheriff snarled.  “In the eyes of the jury, they are now both guilty.”

“Gleason is guilty,” Heyes stated.  “And Thaddeus is stupid.”

Heyes went up to his hotel room and lit a match to light the lamp.  Curry was sitting on his bed.

“Why’d did you escape?” Heyes asked, agitated.  “I told you I’d break you out if the verdict came back guilty.  Now, any jury will see Thaddeus Jones as guilty of robbing the bank and shooting Carlin!”

Curry shrugged.  “I saw the opportunity and took it.  I saw you head into the saloon so I thought I’d go see that Miller woman and see if I could make her realize that it wasn’t me that robbed the bank.”

“Did it work?”



“No.  She seemed upset that she has to testify against me.  She told me to run.”

“She told you to run?” Heyes questioned.

“Yeah, said it was easier that way.”

“For who?  You?”  Heyes sat on the bed next to his partner.  

The Kid rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands with a deep sigh.

“So now what?  Are you gonna run?”

“It’s bad enough that Kid Curry is wanted.  I can’t have Thaddeus Jones wanted, too.  There would go my chance at amnesty.  Think I’ll turn myself in and take my chances with the jury… and you,” Curry muttered.

Heyes smiled.  “Think that’s wise, Kid.”

They walked out of the room and were headed toward the stairs when the sheriff appeared behind them with a gun.  “I had a feeling he’d come say good-bye before he left town!”

“Thaddeus was turning himself in, Sheriff!” Heyes protested.

“Sure he was!” the sheriff snorted and moved closer to Curry.  “Now get your hands up Jones, and start walking back to your cell.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Court is in session – all rise for the Honorable Judge Cornwall!” the bailiff announced.

The courtroom was packed full with townsfolk standing in the back.  Thaddeus Jones and his lawyer, Samuel Cole, sat together at the defense table.  Joshua Smith and the sheriff sat behind them.  Celia Miller came in and sat down in a chair behind the prosecutor’s table.  The jury box had twelve men seated and a table nearby had three men scribbling on pads of paper.



Samuel Cole stood up.  “Judge, I would like to request a postponement of the trial against my client, Thaddeus Jones.”

“On what grounds?” the judge asked.

“On the grounds that Walter Gleason broke out of jail.  Since he is the one who accused Thaddeus Jones of being his partner in the robbery and shooting Mr. Carlin, my client cannot be fairly tried until Mr. Gleason is caught.”

The judge looked at the prosecutor’s table.  “Mr. Franklin?”

“The prosecution objects, Judge.  If we were basing our case solely on Walter Gleason’s testimony, we would be more sympathetic; however, our case is built on the testimony of eye witnesses.”

“Motion is denied,” the judge ruled.

Heyes leaned towards the sheriff and whispered, “Are those three men at that table reporters covering the trial?”

The sheriff nodded.  “They are.”

“Hmm… funny that the Salt Lake Chronicle reporter isn’t there.”  Heyes stood up and quietly walked out of the courtroom.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Good morning, Mr. Smith!  What can I do for you?” the hotel clerk asked.

“Good morning, William.  I was wondering if you could tell me if the reporter, Mr. Brent, is in his room.”  Heyes craned his neck as he tried to glance at the hotel registry.

“Mr. Brent signed out already.  He paid his bill and left yesterday.”

“Before the trial?” Heyes questioned.

“That does sound a bit odd,” William agreed.

“Were there any messages from the Salt Lake Chronicle possibly assigning him to another story or telling him to come back?”

The clerk shook his head.  “Not that came through this desk.”

Heyes thought a moment.  “Did he have any visitors?”

“No.  I keep a close watch on who comes up and down those stairs.  Only Miss Miller went up there to give Mrs. Hochstetler a book.”  William furrowed his brow and cocked his head.  “Strange thing, though, is that Miss Miller went up there after 10:00 pm and the next morning Mrs. Hochstetler told me she went to bed at 9:30.”

“Is Mrs. Hochstetler upstairs now?”

“She sure is.”

Heyes softly said to himself as he climbed the stairs, “Think I'll just run on up and say hello to Mrs. Hochstetler.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes handed a message to the telegraph clerk.  “Can you send this right away?”

“I sure can.”  The clerk counted up the words.  “You’re bein’ mighty wordy – it’ll cost you $1.50.”

Heyes pulled out some money and paid the man.  “Can you make sure I get the response as soon as it arrives, Mr. Peters?”

“Will do.”  The clerk sat and began tapping out the message.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Malcolm Brent and Walt Gleason sat by a campfire.

“I can’t believe how careless you were, Walt, getting caught with the money while drunk and having me come to town to get you out!” Brent yelled.

“And you’re never careless?  Pfftt… you’re the one who had to shoot the old man in the bank.”  Gleason stood and walked away from the fire holding a cup of coffee in his hand.  “Just give me some more money and we’ll separate.  You won’t see me again.”

“You’re right – I won’t have to deal with you ever again!”  Malcolm pulled out his gun and aimed it at Walt.

“Now wait a min-”

Before Gleason could finish his sentence, Brent's gun fired.  Walt Gleason fell to the ground.

Brent holstered his gun.  "Good riddance,” he snorted and turned back to face the fire.

Sweat beading his brow and fighting for breath, Gleason struggled to draw his own weapon.  With a shaky hand, he took aim on Malcolm Brent.

A second shot rang out, just before Brent joined his partner in the dirt.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

The prosecutor, Mr. Franklin, stood up.  “Please state your name for the record.”

“Miss Celia Miller.”

“Can you tell us, in your own words, what happened May 21 of this year?”

“Certainly.”  Miss Miller cleared her throat.  “I was working at the bank with Mr. Joe Darby beside me in the teller window and Mr. Ken Carlin, the bank president, sitting at his desk.  At approximately 4:45 p.m., two masked and armed men, wearing heavy coats, rushed into the bank and demanded the money.  Because it was just before closing there were no customers in the bank, thankfully, and, most unfortunately, the money was not yet in the safe.  One robber stayed near the door making sure no one entered while the other demanded the money from Mr. Darby’s bank drawer and then mine.”  She sniffed.  “As they were heading out the door, one of them shot Mr. Carlin.”

Franklin asked, “Is the man who shot the bank manager in the room?”

“He most certainly is.”

“Will Thaddeus Jones please stand,” the lawyer instructed.

Reluctantly, the Kid stood.

“Is this the man?

“Yes, it is!”

The telegraph clerk quietly entered the courtroom and handed a piece of paper to Heyes.  He read it and tapped Samuel Cole on the shoulder.  “Read this!” he whispered.

The defense lawyer read the note.

“Your witness.”  Franklin sat down.

Cole stood up.  “If it pleases the court, I have just obtained some new information and would like to call Mr. Peters to the stand.”

The judge nodded.  “Go ahead.”

“Miss Celia, can you please have a seat for a few minutes?” Cole asked.

“Of course.”  Miss Miller stood and sat down in her chair behind the prosecutor.

“The court calls Mr. Peters.”

The telegraph clerk took the witness seat.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Jonathan H. Peters.  The H stands for Hezekiah.”

“Did Mr. Smith recently send a telegraph of inquiry?”

“He did.”

“Can you please read the response?”  Cole handed him the telegram.

“Sure.  To Joshua Smith.  No reporter by the name of Malcolm Brent with the Salt Lake Chronicle nor do we have any reporter covering the trial.  Have never heard of a reporter by the name of Brent.  It’s signed by the editor of the Salt Lake paper.”

Franklin stood up.  “What does that have to do with this trial, Judge?”

Cole addressed the jury.  “Malcolm Brent was a stranger to Rocky Point.  He lied about being a reporter and vanished just before the trial.”  Cole turned from the jury to the witness.  “You may step down, Mr. Peters.  The defense calls Miss Celia Miller back to the stand.”

Miss Miller exchanged seats with Mr. Peters.  

“You are reminded that you are still under oath, Miss Miller,” the judge said.

“You have already identified the man who shot Mr. Carlin as Thaddeus Jones.  The town of Rocky Point wants truth and justice.  Did you see Mr. Brent?  Did you ever talk to him?” Cole asked.

“No, I was not introduced to him.”

“You never talked to Malcolm Brent?”

“Correct.”

“Is it a fact that you were at the hotel on Friday evening?”

“Yes, I went to deliver a book to Mrs. Hochstetler.”  Celia remained composed.

“Did you see Mrs. Hochstetler?”

“I object!” Franklin yelled as he stood up.  “What bearing does this have on this trial?”

Cole faced the judge.  “I will prove that Celia Miller lied under oath and her testimony is just a string of lies.”

“Answer the question, Miss Miller,” the judge ordered.

“Your Honor, at this time I am prepared to call Williams, the hotel clerk, to the stand.  He will testify that Miss Miller was in the hotel at 10 pm.  I shall also call Mrs Hochstetler to the stand and she will testify that, in fact, Miss Miller did not go to her room and return her book,” Samuel Cole persisted.

“I realized how late it was and decided not to bother Mrs. Hochstetler,” Celia explained.

“And yet you stayed upstairs for a half an hour?”

Miss Miller looked at the judge.  “Must I answer?  I gave my word.”

“Perjury is a serious offense, Miss Miller.  You must answer the question,” Judge Cornwall stated.

“Very well, I will try to explain.”  Celia sighed.  “When I realized how late the hour was and there was no light under Mrs. Hochstetler’s door, I didn’t want to bother her.  I saw a light under Mr. Brent’s door and went to see him for the interview he was asking.  He told me not to tell anyone.  He wanted an… I think the word he used was, exclusive.”  Celia looked to the judge.  “I gave my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone about the interview.”

“So you lied even under oath?” Cole confirmed.

“I didn’t realize my testimony was so important.  Please forgive me.”

“So Malcolm Brent wanted an exclusive – special information from you?  What special information did he ask you about?”  Cole questioned the witness.

“He wanted to know what I saw and heard during the bank robbery.”

“We have established that Mr. Brent is not a reporter.  Was he professional when asking you questions?”

“Yes.”

“And what was he doing while you were answering the questions?”

“He listened and appeared interested in what I had to say.”

“Most reporters take notes when they interview a person, similar to how these reporters are taking notes during the trial so as not to forget anything.”  Cole pointed to the table with the three reporters busily writing on pads of paper.  “Mr. Brent just listened to you.  Did you not find that odd?”

“Everyone thought Mr. Brent was a newspaper man,” Celia argued.  “How was I to know differently?”

“This story won’t wash – there has to be more to it that you are not being forthcoming about,” stated the defense.

Tom Franklin, the prosecutor, stood up.  “I object – Mr. Cole is badgering the witness!”

“Sustained!” declared the judge.  “Court will have a recess for 15 minutes.  I hope both sides can finish this afternoon so the jury can begin deliberations.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Celia smoothed a wrinkle from an emerald green gown and primped in front of a full-length mirror.  She smiled as she twirled in the beautiful dress.  When she heard footsteps coming up to her steps, she grabbed a plain red robe and put it on, making sure in the mirror that the green gown did not show.

There was a knock at the door and Celia opened it.  “Why, Mr. Smith, what a surprise to see you here.”

Heyes pushed his way past her into the parlor.  “Have you heard that the jury has been deliberating for the past two hours?”

Celia scowled and followed him.  “They have?  Maybe that is good news and they will pronounce your friend innocent.”

“Maybe.”  Heyes raked his fingers through his hair.  "I just don't understand how you think that jury is going to believe your testimony about Thaddeus now that it's been proven that you lied about knowing Malcolm Brent.”  He paced a few steps.  “Why, I bet Brent came here to break Gleason out of jail.  He must be the other robber that Thaddeus is accused of being!”

“That’s preposterous!” Celia exclaimed.

“Is it?  I bet Brent thought he was safe with Thaddeus in jail accused of doing what he did, but he ran into some bad luck.  You recognized him, didn’t you?  How much did he pay you for your testimony against Thaddeus?”

“Mr. Smith, I am trying very hard to remember that Mr. Jones is your friend, but if you don’t leave right now…”  Celia turned quickly towards the door and, in the process, exposed some of the green gown.

Heyes stepped over to Celia and opened the robe.  He glared at the green dress.  “Now that’s not a dress you’d wear in Rocky Point, is it?  Why, I bet a dress like that would cost you a year’s salary as a bank clerk, wouldn’t it?

Celia opened the door and pointed outside.  “Get out!”

Heyes started heading out the door and stopped in front of Celia.  “I promise you this, if you let Thaddeus go to jail for something he didn’t do, there will be a second shadow following you wherever you go – me!”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Deputy Clay Jackson twirled the gun and checked out the sight as he walked to the back cell.  “Hey, Jones, I bet this gun could bring a good price.”

The Kid lifted up his hat and sat up on the cot, taking in the deputy with his gun.  “I suppose.”

“It seems real straight and has a great balance – not just your typical gun you could buy from the mercantile.”

Curry stared at the deputy.

“Yep, I sure wouldn’t mind havin’ this here gun.  Will you sell it to me?”

“What makes you think I won’t be gettin’ it back tomorrow?”

The deputy grinned.  “I just put the jury to bed and got the word.  You may as well sell it to me since you won’t be needin’ it anymore.”

The Kid closed his eyes and sighed as he lay down again, covering his face with his hat.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hannibal Heyes lay on his bed in his hotel room, with a book open but resting on his chest.  A knock at the door quickly had him standing up.  “Who is it?”



“Sam.”

Heyes opened the door to a forlorn lawyer with a bottle of brandy.  “That bad?”

Cole nodded.

“Who told you?”

“The bailiff is a good friend of mine.  He said the jury will announce the verdict in the morning.”  

“Does Thaddeus know?” Heyes asked.

“If he does, it wasn’t by me.  I didn’t have the nerve to tell him.”

Heyes paced the small room, clearly agitated.  “But Celia Miller was caught in a lie… several lies!  Why didn’t the jury see that she was probably lying about Thaddeus, too?”

“Because Celia grew up in Rocky Point.  Most all the town believes her to be an honest and decent woman.  Heck, Joshua, her testimony and Gleason’s confession almost had me convinced Thaddeus was guilty.”

Heyes came to a stop in front of the lawyer.  “So now what?”

“We wait until the morning when the verdict is read.  Until then, I’m going home and having a couple of drinks.”  Cole held up the bottle.

“Maybe I should go to the saloon and do the same.”

“Here.”  Cole handed the brandy to Heyes.  “You need this more than me.  Besides, I can stop and buy another on my way home.”  He walked to the door.  “See you in the morning.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Celia Miller opened her door to the persistent knocking.  “What is it you want now?” she asked when she saw Heyes at the door.

He walked in without being invited and put the bottle of brandy on a table.  “Well, we don’t have to fight anymore.  It’s all over.”

“What do you mean it’s all over?”  Celia cocked her head.  “Is the brandy for a celebration?  A victory for me and a defeat for you?”

Heyes nodded.  “Something like that.”

Celia shook her head.  “Even if I don’t like you, I didn’t think of you as a fool until now.  Why would you think it would work?”

Heyes looked puzzled.  “Huh?”

“You’re hoping I would drink enough brandy to confess that the robber was not your friend, Mr. Jones.”

Heyes shrugged his shoulders.  “I admit it wasn’t subtle, but I tried every other way I could think.”

“In the first place, Mr. Smith, I don't drink.  If I did, I most certainly would not drink with you!”  She paused and then added, “However, if I were to drink enough liquor to loosen my tongue, you would still hear me say the same thing that I've been saying all along, and that is that I am positive that Thaddeus Jones is the bank robber I saw that day and he is guilty.”

Heyes eyed the woman in pensive silence before he spoke.  “Miss Miller, I consider myself a fair judge of both men and women.  I believe in my friend, Thaddeus.  When you’re ready to confess, I hope it’s not too late.”

“Too late?  Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?  It’s just a prison sentence.”

“Do you know what prison does to some men?” Heyes asked.  “Men like Thaddeus who have lived out in the open their whole lives?  Lock him up in a cage and you’ll be guilty of killing him, as sure as if you were the one to turn the key in the lock and throw away the key.”

“Are you all through?” Celia demanded as she opened the door.

“Yep, I’m all through.”  Shoulders slumped in defeat, Heyes walked dejectedly through the door.

“One moment, you forgot something.”  Celia went to the table and gave the bottle of brandy to Heyes.

Once she closed the door, Celia leaned back against it and swallowed hard.  Tears formed in her eyes and she put a shaking hand to her mouth as she held back a cry.  She went to a small chest of drawers and pulled out a bottle of sherry from the back.  Pouring herself a large glass, she sat down, tilted the glass up and drank it down until it was empty.  Setting the glass down on the table, her eyes lit on the garment lying across her bed and she rose to her feet and walked slowly over to it.  Celia held the beautiful green dress up in front of her and looked in the mirror.  Sobbing, she threw the dress on her bed and ran out of her house.

Celia rushed to the jail house and pounded on the door.  

Deputy Jackson opened it.  “What is it, Miss Miller?”

“I must see Sheriff Adams, immediately!”

“Why, the sheriff is at home already.  Are you all right?”

Celia turned, tears flooding her eyes, and ran blindly out into the street.

“Miss Miller!”  The deputy watched helplessly as Celia stood frozen in the street as two horses tried unsuccessfully to avoid her.  She screamed and fell into the street.

The men jumped down from their mounts.  “We didn’t see her – honest!”

The deputy ran to the woman's side and dropped down next to her.

Others came out of the saloon and the nearby houses to see what all the commotion was about.

Deputy Jackson held her lifeless body in his arms.  “She’s dead!” he exclaimed to the onlookers.

Joshua Smith watched from the window of his hotel room and bowed his head.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Court is in session – all rise for the Honorable Judge Cornwall!” the bailiff announced.

Everyone rose to their feet and remained standing until the judge had taken his seat.

“You may all sit down,” the bailiff said.

The courtroom was packed full with townsfolk, many of them crowded together, standing in the back.  Thaddeus Jones and his lawyer, Samuel Cole, sat together at the defense table.  Joshua Smith sat behind them.  

“Has the jury come to a verdict?” the judge asked.

A spokesman stood up.  “We have, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Jones, please stand,” the judge ordered.

The Kid stood, his head bowed down.

Judge Cornwall looked at the jury.  “How do you find the defendant?”

“We, the jury, find Thaddeus Jones guilty of robbing the Rocky Point Bank and shooting the bank’s president, Ken Carlin.”

“Thank you for your service.”  The judge turned towards Curry.  “Mr. Jones, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers and I hereby sentence you to twenty-”

But before he could pronounce sentence, the judge was interrupted by Sheriff Adams, who ran into the courtroom and whispered into the ear of the prosecutor.

“Sheriff!  Mr. Franklin!”  Judge Cornwall pounded on the desk with his gavel.  “What is the reason for this disruption?” the judge barked.

Mr. Franklin stood as he glanced over the paper in his hands.  “It appears, Your Honor, to be a letter found in Celia Miller’s effects.  It clearly states that Malcolm Brent was the other accomplice to the bank robbery and the one who shot Mr. Carlin – not Thaddeus Jones.”

“Bring that paper up here right now!  And I want to talk to counsel for both sides!”

The judge read the letter as the two lawyers stood in front of him.  He gave the letter to Samuel Cole, who quickly read it.  “This seems to clear Mr. Jones of all wrong-doings, do you agree?” Judge Cornwall asked.

“Yes, sir,” stated Mr. Franklin.

“Then, Mr. Jones, in the eyes of the court you are innocent.  You are cleared of any and all charges, and hereby released from custody,” declared the judge as he pounded down his gavel.  “You are a free man.”

Heyes rushed over to the Kid and they bear hugged and slapped each other on the back.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes and the Kid tightened the cinches on their saddles and secured their saddlebags.

“I sure will be glad to leave Rocky Point.”  Curry mounted his gelding and waited.

Heyes climbed into his saddle and led the way out of town.

“You know, for all the trouble this town has given us, we should rob that bank.”  The Kid grinned as he glanced over to his partner.  “You’d be a good bank robber.”



Heyes chuckled.  “When you call me that – smile!  Let’s get outta here!”

The two men kicked their horses into a gallop when they reached the outskirts of town.




Author’s Notes:  My Virtual Season episode was “stolen” from an episode of The Virginian, The Accomplice.  This episode was Roy Huggins’ first credited episode as an executive producer.

Bette Davis was cast in The Virginian because she put an ad in the trades as an actress looking for work, causing a scandalous stir in Hollywood.  Bette accepted a role as a guest star, but in later interviews remarked unfavorably about the episode.



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