The little group rode into a typically dusty, growing western town a day and a half after the partners finally agreed to the train trip.  Heyes and Curry unobtrusively scoped out the usual landmarks such as the sheriff’s office, which obligingly posted the name of an unknown sheriff, a hospitable hotel, the choice of two saloons, and the railroad station at the end of the main street.

Saturday late morning saw groups of small children, dressed in colorful costumes, carrying half-filled sacks that darted in and out of the normal hustle and bustle of small-town life.  The newcomers noticed and Heyes found himself trying to explain the customs of celebrating Halloween to the curious Bhatts.

Curry was left with the women, adolescent son, and the unloaded contents of the caravan at the train station while Heyes and the Bhatt patriarch proceeded to the livery to sell the horses, gear, and caravan.  The Kid went inside to purchase tickets and make arrangements for crating the household goods for shipment to San Francisco.  The blond shook his head in vexation as he took stock of the two piles of what was being shipped and what they would be toting with them.

The older ex-outlaw and the Punjab patriarch strode purposefully from the livery towards the sheriff’s office.  Heyes once more glanced at the posted signboard and affirmed quietly, “Sheriff Tom Hordnes.  Never heard of him.”  The two men reached the office and Manjot reached for the door and entered.  Heyes hesitated with one hand holding the door open, but his feet firmly planted on the boardwalk.  He conducted a barely audible debate with himself.  “To go in or not to go in.”  He listened as Manjot started his tale of the robbery and rescue.  “I have a silver tongue and it may be needed to smooth over any awkward questions.  So, what am I waiting for?  Thaddeus is nearby,” he chided himself.  Heyes straightened up, plastered on an innocent, helpful smile and entered the office fraught with risk.

The two groups met back up in front of the train station.  

“Well, how’d you do?”  Curry had drifted up the street a way to meet his partner, while the Bhatt senior strode on to rejoin his family in front of the train station.  “I got the tickets.”  He patted his shirt pocket.  “We have to change trains twice, not too bad.  Only problem is, the northbound train doesn’t leave until nine tonight."

“We got good money for the horses and gear.  But let me tell you, Kid, Manjot out-traded the horse trader!  He made it seem like he was doing the livery owner a favor by selling the caravan and Percherons to him and got more than I would've paid for them.”  The dark head shook with amazement and admiration tinged his voice.  The two men slowly ambled back to the train station to join their charges and employers.  

The Bhatts were carrying on a rapid-fire conversation in their native language while standing over the belongings that they were keeping with them on the journey.

“Excuse me,” Heyes interrupted the ongoing conversation.  “We have several hours until the train leaves.  My suggestion is that we rent you a hotel room.  That way the ladies can freshen up and you all can get some rest.  It will also let you store the things that you are bringing with you, and you won’t have to let them out of your sight or tote them around.”

“We can bring you something from the café for dinner if the hotel doesn’t have a dining room,” the Kid offered.

“Me and Thaddeus are going to the saloon.  We’re going to have a beer or two, perhaps join in on a poker game.  One of us will check up on you every now and then to see if you need anything.  Then, after a late dinner, we’ll head on over to the train station to catch the 9:05 westbound.  How does that sound?”

Manjot’s face grew pensive as he looked over his family and the small pile of belongings.  He turned around and peered up the street, dark eyes searching for the locations of the hotel, café, and saloon.  He faced the dark-haired partner and beamed a white, toothy smile and nodded.  “Yes, that will be satisfactory.”

Jasleen slipped closer to the blond.  A long, slim arm clad in a moss green fine cotton salwar, richly embroidered with gold, yellow, and dark green thread in a leaf pattern, lightly touched the cerulean blue-clad arm of the Kid.  Dark brown eyes gazed into the clear sky-blue eyes of Thaddeus Jones.  “You will be eating dinner with us, won’t you?”

The Kid looked down at the touch.  A big smile spread across his face.  “You can be sure of that, Jasleen.  I’ll be right beside you in the dining room or at your door with dinner without fail.”

Heyes grabbed the saddle bags and Mr. Bhatt had a solid hold on the two valises containing the precious metals and jewels as the two men started towards the hotel.  The rest struggled to keep up.  Harbir toted the tools.  Chandra tossed her lavender with pink and red floral embroidery dupatta over her left shoulder as she bent down to grab hold of two carpet bags of clothes.  Jasleen and Jayanit each carried a large bag of clothes and essentials.  The Kid followed the disappearing group, his eyes following the shapely figures draped in soft coral and moss green cotton.  He muttered under his breath, “Why am I always the human pack mule who’s laden down with everything else?”  

A small tow-headed boy in a buckskin outfit, a ragged feathered pseudo headdress, and streaks of red painted across his flushed cheeks shuffled bravely up to Manjot Bhatt and Heyes as his three friends watched from a safe distance down a small side street.  He looked curiously at the Punjabi in his richly hued brown cotton churidaar pajama suit and turban.

“What are you supposed to be?”

Heyes interpreted, “Halloween.  He thinks you’re wearing a Halloween costume.”

Manjot nodded his understanding and smiled kindly at the young boy.  “I’m a Punjabi Indian, a Sikh.”

“I’m an Indian, too, an Apache brave.  I ain’t heard of Punjabi Indians.  Where you from?  I didn’t know Indians grew beards.  Is it real?  Where’s the feathers in your hat?”

With a smile in his voice, and in Punjab British-accented English, Manjot leaned down to answer his curious new acquaintance.  “My family and I are from the area of Punjab in Northern India across oceans and seas.  We have traveled very far to make a new life in your American West.  My kind of Indians grow beards and my hair on my head is very long under this turban.  Alas, we do not have feathers for our hats.  I can see you are a very brave brave.  Here is a treat, as your custom, for bravery and some for your friends, who are not so brave but still did not desert you.”  Manjot pulled a few shiny copper pennies from his pocket and held out his hand for the wide-eyed towhead.  

A grubby hand reached out to pick up the pennies and, as he ran off towards his waiting friends, shouted, “Thanks, mister, happy Halloween!”

Suddenly, Heyes turned and uttered a terse, “Thaddeus.”  He then bounded up the stairs into the hotel without further explanation, leaving the Kid to glance around apprehensively.  Sharp blue eyes homed in on a tall, black-haired, man in his 40’s, wearing a large U.S. Marshal’s star.  The Kid hustled the Bhatts inside, trying to keep them between him and the marshal, who was walking towards the nearest saloon.

Curry and Heyes huddled together at the lobby window while the family was busy repacking their belongings more efficiently upstairs in the rented room while they waited for the baths to be delivered.  The partners talked through their predicament and tried to come up with a plan.

“We’ve gotta get outta this town without Marshal Ricker noticin’.”

“I know, Kid; the question is how?  I know how you feel about stagecoaches.  The train's probably safer than trying to buy back our horses and gear.  The livery owner is sure to remember us then.”

“As long as I go to the livery alone, I should be alright.  You sold the horses, not me and the marshal on that posse never got a good look at the front of us.  As long as we’re not together, it should be alright.”

“I don’t want to take those odds.  Nah, we’ll stick with the train.  The trick will be to get from the hotel to the train." Thoughtful for a moment, he grinned.  "Wait, I got an idea.  We’ll dress you up in Manjot’s spare clothes so you can escort the Bhatts and I’ll wait to the last minute and catch the train.”

“I’ll never pass for an India Indian!" the Kid protested.  "I’m too fair, my hair and eyes are the wrong color, and there's no way I can grow a beard and mustache in a few hours.  I don’t even get a 5 o’clock shadow.”

“Yeah, I know.  Once you manage to grow facial hair, like a mustache, you don’t want to shave it off,” mumbled Heyes under his breath.

“What?  I didn’t hear what you said.”  Curry gave his friend a side-eye.

“I said, it’s Halloween; you don’t have to look like a real Bhatt.”

“Adults don’t wear costumes to walk around the streets, Heyes.”

“Well, your name is Kid, Kid.”  Heyes was immune to the blue-eyed gunslinger’s glare.  “Let’s go up and see what we can get you to wear.”

“If I’m forced to dress up, you are too,” the blonde threatened his dark-haired friend.  He added a sudden thought.  “And what are we goin’ to tell the Bhatts?”

Heyes' brow furrowed in thought for a moment, then he grinned.  “We'll just tell them that we decided to join in on the fun by getting dressed up.”


Later that evening, with just enough time to stroll sedately to the train station, the large Bhatt family of Mr. and Mrs. Bhatt, their son, and three daughters, and their cousin checked out of the hotel.  The Punjabi males were wearing traditional Punjabi Churidaar suits and turbans.  The women wore colored cotton salwar kameez tunics and pants with silk dupattas draped tightly around their heads and artfully around their upper bodies.  Everyone was wearing western style cowboy boots with the pants tucked in, although suspiciously five of the Indian’s boots appeared very new.  They boarded the last passenger car before the three box cars full of cargo, two box cars transporting livestock, and a red caboose.

Slim fingers of the dark blue and gray-clad, thin man slightly adjusted the black turban on his dark head after stowing his saddle bag in the overhead luggage rack.  He turned to relieve the women of their burdens and stow them in the luggage rack as well.  He stumbled a bit as a pair of saddle bags thudded into his back.  He turned quickly and glared at the person who was shoving the saddle bags into his hands.  “What?” he hissed at the tall woman covered head to mid-calf in a light pale orange with pink and yellow flowers cotton salwar.  Worn and scuffed cowboy boots showed incongruously below the delicate patterned material.  

“Aren’t…”  The voice rose in register and lowered in volume.  “Aren’t you gonna help all the women?”

Brown eyes narrowed and a frown appeared on the dark, lightly stubbled chin.  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Heyes informed his friend.

“That’s what you have me for, to improve upon your plans by pointing out the faults,” the Kid shot back.  He looked down at himself and hissed quietly to his partner, “If I have to wear this get-up until we can get off at the next stop and get back on as ourselves – I mean, Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith – then you can at least act like the man you still get to be.”

Heyes rolled his eyes as he held up a finger to be quiet while letting three men pass him and Curry to go up the aisle towards the front of the rail car.  Evaluating eyes of both partners followed the men to see if there were any untoward interest or reactions.  There were not.

“It’s not my fault that your blond curls that the ladies love so much kept springing out of the turban.”  Heyes unconsciously patted his forehead.

Curry glared at his friend, as his eyes traveled up to stare at the straight, dark hair disappearing into the black material wound around the head.  His face brightened a little as he twisted to peer at his own back.  “At least Chandra is a fast sewer to put in that extra piece of scarf material – I think they called the scarf thing a dupatta – in the back.  That way, this long shirt – a kameez is what Jasleen said it was – I could get it over my shoulders, and it fits over my gunbelt.”  The Kid’s right hand rested on the bump the butt of the Colt .45 made.

Heyes swiftly slapped his partner’s right hand away.  “Stop that!” he admonished under his breath.  “You don’t want to call attention to anything different than the Bhatt women.  Other than the obvious things we can’t change, I mean.”  He did a slow once-over on the Kid and sighed.  “Slouch down a bit, will ya.”

The tallest woman flipped seat backs, creating two sections of four seats that faced each other.  The Kid managed to utter in passable falsetto attempting to modulate his voice in a more feminine manner, “Chandra, Jasleen, Jayanit, you sit in these seats with me.  Joshua will sit, facing the front of the train, in the section behind us by the car door with Manjot, Habir, and the valises.  Leave the aisle seat facing the rear of the train for me, please.”  

After everyone had found their seats and were settled, Curry slid somewhat ungracefully next to Jasleen in the seat that was saved for him, while grasping the duppata tightly to keep it in place.  

Jasleen reached over to tuck a stray blond curl back under the orange, pink and yellow dupatta, then arranged the one end over the left shoulder higher under the blond’s neck and shoulders.

Heyes kicked one orange-covered leg closer to the other unobtrusively before he also sat down in the last row of seats along the aisle, facing the front of the rail car.

Unknown to the group, the marshal boarded the first car of the four passenger cars on the train.  He stowed his carpet bag of belongings and the heavy case of federal marshal service shackles and handcuffs on the overhead rack.  

A woman, who had two small children by the hand, looked apprehensively at the lawman when a metallic rattling noised emitted from the case.  “Pardon me, sir.  I’m traveling alone with my daughters until I meet up with my husband in Carbonville.  Are you expecting trouble?  Are there outlaws around?” the mousy women asked tremulously while she tugged her daughters closer to her in the aisle.

Marshal Ricker looked around at the mix of curious and fearful faces of the rail car passengers, all waiting anxiously for his reply. “What?  No, ma’am, I’m not expecting any trouble, although, I’m always prepared,” his deep voice carried throughout the car. “Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were spotted in the area – without the Devil’s Hole Gang – when I was heading up a posse to capture an unrelated gang of train robbers that have been working the railroad lines in the area.  We finally rounded the entire gang up, ma’am, and they’re all safely in jail or dead.  Unfortunately, we didn’t manage to capture Heyes and Curry, but they were headed in the opposite direction and are most likely far from here by now.  Keeping that in mind, I’m looking forward to relaxing on the journey home.”  Marshal Ricker tipped his hat and sat down in the unoccupied row to the left of him.

The woman ushered her daughters into the seat on the right and slid in after them, sitting next to the aisle.  The rest of the passengers in the car directed their attention back to whatever they had been doing before the marshal spoke.


It was approaching midnight when the conductor did his rounds.  “Next stop, Wellington,” he announced in a loud voice.  Most of the passengers who were awakened by the announcement promptly fell asleep again.  

The partners peered out the windows as the train pulled into the near-deserted station.  Their eyes met across the seat backs.  Heyes subtly shook his turbaned-head 'no' at the same time as the orange duppata-wrapped head made a similar gesture.  The dark-haired man mouthed silently over the shoulder of a somnolent Chandra Bhatt, “Not enough people to go change and then blend in.”

The Kid sighed and resigned himself to spending the night in the unfamiliar clothing.  Blue eyes surveyed the sleeping Bhatts and the rest of the car.  Detecting no unusual occurrences or threats, Curry closed his eyes to doze.

The older partner woke with the slowing of the train.  He blinked his eyes a few times and found the curious gaze of an awake Manjot Bhatt sitting directly across from him along the aisle.  The valises stacked on the seat next to Manjot by the window were all still there.  Harbir, beside Joshua Smith, was still sound asleep, his head resting on the window.  The two awake men turned towards the window through which a lightening horizon of a breaking dawn could be seen between a scattering of passing ranches.

“We must be getting close to the next stop; the train is slowing.”  Heyes rummaged in his kurta’s generous pockets, pulled out a folded train schedule and his pocket watch.  Unfolding the schedule and holding it between him and the senior Bhatt, he ran a finger down the correct column.

“That is good.  Are we getting off at this stop?  It is no longer Halloween.”  Manjot looked hard at the guard he had hired, and, after a moment, his eyes crinkled in amusement and a slight grin appeared on his bearded face.  “You will want to change into your normal clothes, yes?”

The hired guard nodded in agreement, his eyes still on the unfolded schedule in his hands.  “Yes, but this is a short stop.  It’s scheduled for only twenty minutes, leaving at five twenty a.m., which is just enough time to change train crews.  There’ll only be time for one of us to change while the other stays with you and your belongings.”  Heyes’ turbaned head lifted, and he caught the awake and determined blue eyes over Manjot’s shoulder.  “So, Thaddeus will get off and change at this stop along with anyone who needs a quick trip to the privies.”

Manjot turned quickly to look over his shoulder at his other hired guard and blinked at the stubborn, set expression of the younger man, starring back their way.  He shifted in his seat, smiled at the now awake Harbir, and stroked his beard in an unconscious movement.  “Yes, I can see that is best.”  The Punjab senior lowered his voice and leaned towards the man across from him.  “You are smart to decide this.  I would not want to argue with your friend right now.”

Heyes whispered back with a slight grin, “Most of the time Thaddeus is a pretty friendly, easy-going guy, but every now and then his stubborn streak appears.  The trick is to know when to let him have his head.  This morning is one of those times.”

“Aah, I know what you mean, having lived with my wife for many years.  Are either you or Thaddeus married?”

“Nope, not one wife between us.  We move around too much to settle down…yet,” Heyes answered.  He turned the train schedule around for Manjot to see and continued. “In an hour and a half we’ll be pulling into the station after Thompson Springs, which is Green River.  The train will be stopped for three hours in Green River.  I’ll change then.  We can all get something to eat; maybe you can do a little business.  Then we’ll be on our way again.”



Screeching brakes and a loud, shrill whistle announced the impending arrival of the train chugging into the Thompson Springs Rail Station.  The Bhatt women were woken up by the increasing activity in the passenger car and the noises involved with pulling into the train station.  Chandra turned around in her seat to check on the rest of the family.  Jayanit and Jasleen both stood up, stretched, and rearranged their clothing.  The train jerked to a stop, causing Jasleen to lose her balance and fall into the light orange-clad lap of her traveling companion.

“Sorry, Thaddeus,” she apologized softly.

“No problem, Jasleen,” the Kid whispered in her ear as he put his hands on her waist and helped her stand.  His mouth formed a perfect O and his eyes widened slightly when the realization hit him that he was still dressed as a Punjabi woman.  Curry surreptitiously looked around, gauging the surrounding passenger’s interest.  His gaze settled on the face of his partner and registered the lifted dark eyebrow and slight admonishing shake of the turbaned head.  The Kid’s sandy eyebrows rose in response, and he shrugged his shoulders.  Luckily, the majority of the occupants of the train car were engaged in their own activities, still sleeping, getting ready for a short break in the train travel or a few gathering their belongings to disembark.

Curry slid out into the aisle, reached up to grab his saddle bags, then slouched down as he joined the three people who had reached their early morning destination.  Exiting the train, the Kid hung back, watching the passengers hurry to their destinations, while his grip tightened on the saddle bags.  His eyes focused on the restrooms.  

“Four women, but only three out.  Hurry up in there!  What’s takin’ her so long?  I need to get in there!” he grumbled impatiently to himself.  One booted-foot tapped the floor in annoyance.  “Finally!” Curry muttered as he tracked the last woman leaving the ladies restroom.  He looked surreptitiously about before slipping quickly through the door.  

The on-duty and the off-duty rail crews changed places efficiently.  Fifteen minutes later the whistle sounded for boarding.  The few people still on the station platform made their way to the passenger car stairs and entered the train.

Inside the train, Heyes glanced at his pocket watch at the sound of the whistle.  The minutes ticked by.

Harbir leaned over towards the man sitting next to him.  “Where’s Mr. Jones?”

“Don’t worry, Thaddeus never misses a train he’s supposed to catch.  He’ll be here.”

The Bhatt women were all peering out of the train windows.  “I don’t see him,” Jayanit hesitantly announced.  Alarm flooded the wide, dark eyes of the women as the train started to slowly pull out of the station.

Manjot Bhatt lifted a dark eyebrow at his temporary employee.  “The agreement was for ten dollars a day for the both of you,” he reminded the man across from him.

Heyes, who was bent slightly over, peering out the window past Harbir and watching the platform, nodded.  The frown on his face smoothed out and a slight grin appeared as he sat back.  “He’s coming now,” he confidently stated.  “He’ll be here in a minute or two.”  

The Kid, dressed in his tan trousers and bright blue shirt with a tan vest, clutching a set of saddle bags, jogged across the station platform.  He sped up to a flat out run as the engine, tender, and three passenger cars chugged past him.  He reached out and grabbed the railing of the last passenger car with his free right hand and swung his body forward.  Booted feet hit the steel step of the car.  He gained his equilibrium on the moving car and ascended the stairs, pulled open the car door and stood in the doorway. Pausing a moment, the Kid winked at Heyes when their eyes met, before his gaze surveyed the car and its passengers.  He strode a few steps into the car and swung his saddle bags into the overhead rack.

“This seat taken, ma’am?”

Jasleen looked up and giggled.  “No.”

Curry smiled at the oldest Bhatt daughter as he dropped down into the empty aisle seat.


The train conductor started his rounds in the first passenger car, checking the passengers’ tickets.  Most of the people were awake and had their tickets out for his verification.  Those who had managed to sleep through the early morning commotion at the station, he woke reluctantly.  He reached out a hand and shook the marshal’s shoulder lightly.  Dark eyes blinked open and stared up.

“Good morning, Marshal.  We just left Thompson Springs and will be pulling into Green River in about an hour and half.  Sorry to wake you, but I need to check your ticket.”

The marshal wiped his large hand across his face.  He peered out at the lightening sky before fishing his ticket out of his shirt pocket for the conductor to look at.

“Thanks, again, Marshal.  Like I said, sorry to wake ya.”  The conductor handed the ticket back to the lawman and made to move down the aisle.

“No problem, just doing your job,” Marshal Ricker replied.  He shook his head, then rubbed his eyes.  The lawman sat up straighter, and craned his neck back, verifying that the case of handcuffs and shackles were where he left them last night in the luggage rack.  He sank into the seat to make himself comfortable, ready to go back to sleep.

The conductor had almost completed his routine in the passenger cars, only having the fourth passenger car to finish.  He made his way down the aisle.  Most passengers, as soon as they were handed their ticket back closed their eyes and settled down to catch a little more sleep before arriving in Green River.

“Tickets, please,” the bored voice of the conductor stated as he held out his hand in a rote gesture, not really looking at the passengers at this point.  Chandra Bhatt handed the man the three tickets for herself and her daughters.  The conductor looked at the tickets and handed them back to her.  He then reached for the man in the aisle seat’s ticket.  The conductor glanced down, then lifted his head as handed the ticket back.



He took a step down the aisle and paused.  Furrows appeared in his brow and his eyes narrowed.  He quickly glanced behind him, and his eyes suddenly widened before a frown appeared.  The conductor did a cursory ticket check of the last three seat rows of the last passenger car before he hurried up the aisle towards the front of the train.  Reaching the front door of the car, he took a minute to peer down the aisle.  His eyes focused on a wavy-haired blond head in the fourth to the last row.  He pushed the door open, and it closed behind him with a bang.

Curry’s eyes homed onto his partner’s face over Chandra and Manjot Bhatt’s shoulders.  He mouthed, “Trouble.”

Heyes briefly closed his eyes in frustration and nodded.

As soon as he heard the passenger car door slam shut, Kid Curry stood up and hurriedly pulled down his saddle bags.  He turned and bumped into his friend, who had just moved into the aisle.  He took quick steps towards the back door of the passenger car, pushing Hannibal Heyes in front of him and out the door to the rear platform.

The Bhatts all exchanged curious looks between them, but nobody said a word.  Manjot turned slightly in his seat so he could observe most of the train car.

The stiff wind created by the fast-moving train ruffled Curry’s curls and caused the black turban to slip forward on his partner’s head. Heyes shoved the turban back in place as he peered through the car door window, watching the aisle.

“It was the look, wasn’t it, Kid?  Do you think the conductor will do anything about it?”

“Yep, especially with the way he hurried outta there.  I don’t recognize him, but he sure recognized me.  You, in that get up, seemed to escape his notice.  Not sure how long that'll last.  I do know that I gotta get off this passenger car.”

“That conductor did look familiar, but I can’t say I ever set out to remember all the engineers, firemen, brakemen, and everyone else that was on all those trains we robbed.”

The two men held on to the platform railing and leaned out slightly to gauge the speed of the train by the moving landscape.  The blond looked at the fast-moving ground and steep drop offs on either side of the tracks.  His attention moved to the trailing box cars and caboose.

“Too fast to jump, too rocky and you'd be in the middle of nowhere,” observed the older ex-outlaw.

“Yeah,” Curry agreed distractedly.  He was leaning out almost the length of his arms, with his attention on the trailing box cars carrying cargo and stock.

Heyes turned from peering through the car door window to following the Kid’s line of sight.  He shouted in his friend’s ear from behind, to be heard over the rushing wind, the fast chugging of the engine and the rattling of the train wheels.  “I don’t know, Kid. You think you can make it?”

The younger ex-outlaw pulled himself back fully onto the passenger car platform.  He turned slightly to look his partner in the face. “The last box car has the door cracked open.  If I can get onto the side ladder, I should be able to slide the door open and then manage to swing myself in.”

The dark-haired man nodded.  “Be careful, the train’s moving awful fast.  If you fall off…”

“I won’t fall off, Heyes.  Granted it’s been a while since I had to run across train car roofs, but I haven’t forgotten how and I’m not old, like you.”  Blue eyes locked with brown, and a reassuring grin appeared.  The Kid turned and started to lean out, then reached for the ladder rails of the first box car.

Heyes grabbed his partner’s shoulder.  “Wait, I got an idea.  That marshal is thorough.  He’s likely to arrange to have the train surrounded somehow when we pull into Green River.  You can’t be in that boxcar when we stop.  And he might be expecting you to jump as we get close.”

“Yeah, he’s right; I’m gonna have to jump and somehow evade the posse and get back on the train with you and the Bhatts.  I haven’t figured that out yet.  Have you?”

“I have, Kid.”  Heyes grabbed Curry’s shirt and looked hard at it.  He then pulled at the saddle bag and quickly opened one side.  He dug under the pale orange Punjab clothes and pulled a faded red shirt up from the bottom of the bag.  “Aha!  You can change into this.”

Blue eyes looked blankly back at Heyes.

Heyes leaned closer to the Kid and spoke urgently into his ear.

Curry quickly glanced over his shoulder, frowning.  “This is my favorite shirt.”

“Use the blue.  It’s eye-catching and it's what you were wearing if the conductor gives a description.  I’ll buy you another.”  Heyes pushed the red shirt back down into the saddle bag and gave his partner a little shove.  “Be careful, you hear?”

The Kid nodded, then once again reached in the direction of the box car side ladder.  He peered up and down the line to make sure there weren’t curves or obstacles to cause a sudden change in course, then took a deep breath and leaped.  Hands clamped down on the cold, round steel of the ladder, feet swinging onto a rung, and he started to climb up to the roof.

Heyes watched anxiously from the platform as his action-oriented partner climbed to the roof.  He held his breath when the Kid stood, swayed, and then slid a step sideways before he gained his footing and disappeared from view as he ran along the roof.


The conductor practically ran through the passenger cars, arriving in the first car slightly out of breath.  He beelined to the tall dark-haired man, wearing a badge.

“Marshal!  Marshal!  Kid Curry! It’s Kid Curry!” the conductor yelled excitedly from right beside the lawman.

There was an audible collective gasp from the surrounding passengers.  People started to rise in their seats and look around.

The woman traveling to Carbonville stared at the lawman anxiously from across the aisle, while pulling her children closer to her.  “You said Heyes and Curry went in the opposite direction,” she accused tremulously.

The lawman stood up and moved into the aisle, keeping one hand on the conductor’s sleeve.  He sat the conductor in his seat and looked the man straight in the eye.  “Now tell me, where did you see Kid Curry?  Are you sure it’s him?  Was Hannibal Heyes with him?”

The conductor took a deep, calming breath, leaned slightly out of the seat, and peered back down the aisle of the passenger car towards the back.  He sat back in the seat, wiped his now sweaty brow with a handkerchief and answered, “No, Hannibal Heyes wasn’t there, just the Kid.  Kid Curry is sitting in the last passenger car, about the fourth row of seats from the rear door on the aisle.  Yes, I’m sure it’s Kid Curry.  I’ve been on three trains that Curry, Heyes and the Devil’s Hole Gang robbed.  Three trains, Marshal; count them – three – so yes, I know what Curry looks like.  It’s him, alright.”  The fear mixed with affronted certainty could be heard in the conductor’s voice that was rising in pitch and volume.  One hand waved the white handkerchief vaguely towards the back of the train.  

A few of the men in the car started to gather round the Marshal and conductor, leaning in closer to better hear what was being said.

The Marshal leaned down and looked out the windows on each side of the car at the speeding scenery.  On one side, the tracks closely followed the river and cliffs; on the other side rock formations interspersed with open range sped by.  The Marshal smiled.  He looked around at the men surrounding him.  



“You, you, you and you over there.”  One long arm pointed to various men, wearing holsters and revolvers.  “You’re all deputized until we pull into Green River.  I want you to follow me.  Don’t do anything without my orders.”  Ricker reached up to the overhead bin and pulled down his heavy case.  Opening it, he removed a set of handcuffs, pocketing them, then lifted a pair of heavy iron shackles out and handed them to the conductor.  “Keep these for me until I need them.  Stay here.”  He then set off down the aisle with the four new deputies following.  Marshal Ricker reached the door, put his hand on the handle and stopped.  He half-turned to address his temporary train posse.

“Now listen up!  Kid Curry is known to be the Fastest Gun in the West. But he’s not known to be a killer so I’m aiming to take him alive.  Let me go into the car first and down the aisle.  You stay back at the front of the car unless I call to you.  I don’t want any gun play in the car.  It’s too enclosed and someone’s liable to be hurt, not just Curry.  He’s wanted dead or alive, so if he goes for his gun, I’m gonna aim to kill and take him out quickly.  Right now, he’s got nowhere to go.  He’s trapped.  The train is traveling at a speed too fast to jump; it’d be suicide.  Whatever he is, he’s not supposed to be stupid, even though Heyes is the brains of the gang, according to the Marshal Service’s report.  So, I’m hopin’ he’ll surrender.  Be careful, men.  Let’s go.”  Ricker opened the door and strode over the platform and onto the next passenger car.

Reaching the last passenger car, Marshal Ricker drew his gun while he peered through the door window.  He frowned and muttered, “Darn!  Can’t see the Kid from here!”  He glanced back at the eager train posse, who were all checking their weapons.  “I’m going in.  I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he ain’t there.  Keep me covered from the front of the car, but don’t shoot unless absolutely necessary.”

Having given his last instructions to the newly deputized men, the marshal entered the car.  Ricker stood still and let his harsh, piercing gaze methodically study the train car.  He tightened his grip on his .45 involuntarily as he slowly walked down the aisle, peering closely at each seat row, both right and left.

Dark, intense brown eyes watched the lawmen approach.  The disguised wanted ex-outlaw slipped his right hand into his pocket of the kurta and fingers closed around his Schofield.  The dark head half-turned to look out the window, keeping the aisle in his peripheral vision.

Ricker arrived at the empty seat in the fourth seat row from the back.  He dropped his gun slightly, so it wasn’t pointing at the women.  “Uhmm, ma’am?  Ladies?  Was there a man sitting here?”

“ਹਾਂ, ਇੱਕ ਆਦਮੀ ਸੀ ਪਰ ਉਹ ਚਲਾ ਗਿਆ।.”  {Yes, there was a man, but he left.}

Ricker blinked.  His eyes widened, and a hand rubbed his graying temple before stroking his mustache.  The marshal’s ready stance slumped, and he glanced back at the waiting posse.

“Excuse me, sir.  I overheard your question.  Is there a problem?  There was a man sitting there,” the middle-aged man sitting across the aisle offered, watching the lawman with wide, curious eyes.  “He got on at Thompson Springs at the very last moment.  I wasn’t paying close attention, but I’m pretty sure he got up and left out that door just a little while ago.  Why?”  The witness pointed to the rear car door.

Marshal Ricker tapped his foot as he thought out loud.  “When I last saw Heyes and Curry, they weren’t headed this way.  Of course, they coulda separated, and Curry coulda doubled back and rode like the dickens all night.  He’d hafta get a new horse or a new mode of transportation, like a train.  That’s what I might’a done.”

The close-by passengers all turned their attention to the lawman in their midst.  The temporary posse strode down the aisle importantly, with guns drawn, to join in hunt.

Murmurings from the small group of men drifted over the passengers as they passed.

“Where’d he go?”
“Darn, I wanted part of that ten thousand dollars!”
“He’s got to be here somewhere.  The marshal’s right; it’d be crazy to jump off now.  Besides, someone would see and speak up.”

The goings on in the aisle had the full attention of the Bhatts.  Manjot kept darting glances at the man across from him, who remained quiet, but very attentive, his eyes focused now on the lawman.

Ricker directed his attention to the informant.  “What did he look like?”

“Kinda curly, darkish-blond hair, about early to mid-twenties, and around six foot tall or so, I’d guess.  He was wearing a blue shirt and tan vest and a brown hat with a wide brim and silver band. I can’t exactly remember what his pants looked like but they were lighter colored. He asked if that seat was open and sat down, but like I said, he wasn’t here for long before he got up and left.”

“Anyone else get a good look at the man who was sitting in this seat?” Marshal Ricker loudly asked as he looked at the nearby passengers.

“No, sir, I was reading,” the middle-aged man’s seatmate responded.
“Not really, ‘cause I was half-asleep.”
“If I saw the guy, I didn’t pay attention.”

Most of the passengers were shaking their head no or remained mute.

“What man?” a voice inquired.

“Kid Curry,” the marshal answered tersely.

“Darn, I wish I had turned around and got a look,” drifted back from an unknown source in the front of the car.

Harbir’s dark eyes grew wide in excitement.  He turned quickly to Joshua Smith sitting next to him.  Rapid words started to pour from the teen’s mouth, “Kid Curry!  I have heard of him.  There are books about them.  I’ve read some.  He’s the Fastest Gun in the West! Real outlaws!  Train robbers!  Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes are famous!  Wait, are…”

“ਹਰੀਬਰ, ਸ਼ਾਂਤ। ਮੈਨੂੰ ਇਸ ਨੂੰ ਸੰਭਾਲਣ ਦਿਓ.  ਮੈਂ ਬਾਅਦ ਵਿੱਚ ਵਿਆਖਿਆ ਕਰਾਂਗਾ।.”  {Harbir!  Quiet!  Let me handle this.  I will explain later.}  Manjot leaned forward and interrupted his son urgently and authoritatively.  The Punjab leaned back and lifted a dark eyebrow while giving his hired guard an expectant, speculative look.

Heyes met his employer’s stare without blinking, his face a mask of innocence.

Marshal Ricker moved to the back door of the car; the posse close on his heels.  They exited the car and huddled on the outside car platform.  The marshal leaned out one side and one of the brand-new deputies leaned out the other.

Ricker turned to the others.  “If he jumped back down the line, he’s most likely dead.  There’s nothing back on the train but box cars and the caboose.  I wouldn’t try getting into one from here, but Curry might.  Hmm...”

“So now what, Marshal?” asked one of the men.

“We conduct a search through every car on our way back.  As we get closer to Green River, I want you all back here.  Jump off as soon as it’s safe.  We each take a box car to watch for anyone exiting it.  Hold them at gunpoint if anyone does come out.  Don’t get too close to him.  Don’t worry about getting his gun.  Just make sure he puts his hands on his head where you can see them at all times.  Don’t go in the box car and search until the Green River sheriff arrives with more manpower.”

The men all nodded their agreement with the plan.

“It’s ten thousand, dead or alive.  I want a piece of that.”
“We’ll find him for sure.”
“What if we don’t find him?”

Ricker stood tall and straightened his vest.  His eyes grew hard, and his mouth thinned as he stated determinedly, “I’ll get a posse formed in Green River with the sheriff there and we’ll go catch the b*****d!  Now let’s get back in there and do a thorough search. I’m going to have the conductor alert the engineer.  I’m also gonna hold the conductor and the passenger as witnesses in Green River until they identify Curry, or we don’t need them.  The railroad will have to do with only one conductor on this journey until they find a replacement, or we catch the Kid before the train leaves and the passenger will just have to modify his plans.”