Blood Money

(With apologies to Rafael Sabatini and the inimitable Captain Blood)

By Anita Sanchez  

Mexico was always hot, Heyes thought, as the sun beat down on his hat and shoulders.  Stinking hot.  Just strolling down the dusty main street of this dusty Mexican town, he could feel the sweat running down his back.

“Jesus, it’s hot,” he muttered, half expecting Kid to answer, “No foolin’,” or something. Kid wasn’t there, of course, but Heyes couldn’t break the habit of talking to him.  And now, after three weeks on his own, Heyes was on the way to meet up with the Kid.  He was heading for the train station, he could see it up ahead, a square of tin roof held up on poles casting a tiny square of shade next to the metal tracks grilling in the sun.  It looked like an uncomfortable place to wait for the  train to Galveston that wasn’t due for two hours yet. The street was deserted, except for a few scrawny dogs panting in the dust of the road or under the steps of the squat buildings.

At least he was done with Mexico now.  The documents he’d been hired to deliver were all squared away, and all he had to do was kill two more hours.  Two more hours of heat and boredom.  He blew upwards towards his nose, hoping to cool off his face, but it had no effect.  He tried fanning himself with his hat, but the sun baked the back of his head, and he hastily put his hat back on, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

There was no prospect of coolness outdoors, it seemed, and he decided one more beer in the cantina wouldn’t hurt.  Even warm beer was better than nothing.  He headed for the cantina, the only two-story building on the street.  A balcony ran around the second floor, and a steep staircase led up to it from an alley along the side.  Heyes was almost to the cantina door when a flash of scarlet caught his eye. Curious as to what could be so bright in this drab town, he looked around to see an edge of skirt whisking down the stairs and around a corner.

He walked toward the cantina, feeling as though he was pushing his way through the hot, dense air.  He was just about to push open the swinging doors when he heard a low voice hiss “Senor!”

He looked over his shoulder, and saw a woman with a red skirt and low-cut blouse.  Her head was covered with a black shawl.  “No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head with a smile.  It was too hot even to contemplate a trip upstairs to the small rooms on the second floor of the cantina.

“Senor,” she repeated.  “I have message...important for you.”

“Message?” he said, unimpressed.  Business must be slow if she was trying to lure customers with tales of important messages.

“Yes, yes, come,” she urged.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said pleasantly.  “All I want right now is a cold beer, but a warm one’ll have to do.”

“No, a message,” she repeated.  “Please, muy importante.  From your friend.”

Heyes looked at her sharply. She gazed back at him with vacant eyes, blank and harmless.  He considered.  Kid did know he was here, and it was possible he might need to get a message to him... Heyes took a step towards her.  “What friend?” he asked.

“You know, “ she said, nodding confidently.  “Come, I will show you.”  He hesitated, and she said, “Oh, come, it is only a step,” and disappeared into the alley.

Curious, Heyes followed her and was just in time to see the red of her skirt disappear around a doorway.  He strode down the alley and peered into the dark entrance, blinking after the bright sun outside.  He took a cautious step inside, looking around the for the woman.

“What’s the message...” he began, and then the darkness exploded into shocking bright colors like a firework going off in his head.  He hit the floor with a crash that drove the breath out of his lungs, and discovered he was lying face down on the cool mud floor.  He heard voices overhead, talking rapidly in Spanish, the woman and a deeper voice, arguing, and he lay still, trying to figure out what had happened. 

He hadn’t begun to puzzle it out when someone grabbed him and hauled him upright.  He stood swaying, the dark room seeming to tilt and sway around him. He was just finding his balance when he was grabbed again and dragged up a dim flight of stairs.  Hands behind him shoved him through a low door  into a small, bare room.  It was stifling hot, and dimly lit by one small window.  His knees gave way, and he sank to the floor, but rough hands pulled him up and slammed him into a chair.  As his vision cleared he felt his hands being tied to the back of the chair.  The room was bare and drab, the only furniture a low, rumpled bed with a scarlet cover, a wooden table, and the chair he was tied to.

“Who the hell are you?” he said, trying to twist his aching head around to see who was behind him.

“Shut up, Heyes,” said a deep voice, and he felt a jolt at the shocking use of his real name.  He tried to concentrate, to figure out what was going on, but his head was still spinning, and thoughts seemed to slide in and out of his head without making much sense.

“Make damn sure  he can’t get loose,” said a higher-pitched voice..

“Shut up, Oliver,” said the first voice, yanking the thongs tighter on Heyes’s elbows.  He tried to identify the voice, but it didn’t ring any bells. The two men moved around in front of him, and he stared at them in the dim light, trying to figure out who they were.  The smaller one had grey hair and watery blue eyes, topped by startling black brows.  Heyes was sure he had never seem him before.  But the bigger man, tall and heavy with a shock of straight red hair, looked vaguely familiar. 

He gave Heyes an unpleasant smile.  “Remember me, Heyes?  Probably not.  I was never up to your standards, was I?  Not smart enough for you, huh?”

The man blinked.  “Shut up,” he said brusquely.  “You always did talk too much.”

“So what’s the deal, boys?” asked Heyes, shaking his head to try to stop the whirling pain inside.  “What’re you after?  I never did anything to you, Hooper.”

“Never did anything for me, either, pal.  I wasn’t good enough to rob banks with the Devil’s Hole Gang, according to you. That’s all right, though, I don’t mind, I don’t need to rob banks anymore.  Me and Oliver just acquired us five thousand dollars apiece.”  

Heyes felt a cold chill, even in the oven-like little room.  He raged at himself for not smelling the trap sooner, for being so careless as to fall for such an old dodge.  He glanced around the bare, low-ceilinged room for the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“What time is it?” Oliver interrupted his thoughts. 

"Hell, I don’t know,” growled Hooper.  “We’ll hear the whistle when the train comes in.  It’s not due for a couple of hours yet.”

“Planning a trip?” asked Heyes casually.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, up to Texas, and so are you,” said Hooper.  "We’re not getting the Mexican government or some fat Mexican sheriff involved in this, and having them confiscate nine-tenths of the reward.  We’re taking you on the train across the border.  A fast train ride, and then we’ll turn you into the sheriff in Galveston."

"On the train?" asked Heyes. "You going to take me on the train tied up, and hope the conductor doesn’t notice?  It's a hundred miles to Galveston."

"Oh, we’ll think of something, don’t worry," replied Hooper, grinning.  "I suppose he’d notice a dead body, but we can knock you out and just say you’re sick or drunk, or something.  We’ll figure it out."

"My, you’ve got everything all figured out, don’t you," Heyes said cheerfully.

"You got that right," said Hooper, and bent to talk to Oliver in a low tone. Heyes surreptitiously tested the thongs that bound his wrists. The knots were so tight that he could barely move, no hope of wriggling free under the two mens' watchful eyes.  He glanced down at his empty holster. The options were few.  He shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position, ignoring the ache in his head and wrists. He thought carefully about the expression on his face, and made sure it was relaxed and casual. Then he took a deep breath.

"There 's one little thing you're forgetting, though," he said with a pleasant smile.

Hooper looked at him with scorn.  "Oh, I don't think so, " he said confidently.  "We planned this pretty thoroughly."

"Oh, yeah, what's that?" sneered Hooper.

"Kid Curry," said Heyes.

Oliver and Hooper looked at each other.  "I told you," said Oliver under his breath.

"And I told you, shut up!" snapped Hooper.  "Curry's miles away, he's not gonna know anything about this until it's way too late."

"Miles away, huh," said Heyes with a broad grin.  "Well, I guess that's true.  Train's due in, when, an hour, yeah, he's probably about twenty miles away."  The two men stared at him uneasily.  "Gettin' closer fast, though," Heyes added cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" said Hooper. You mean Kid Curry's on that train, Heyes predicted with his fingers crossed.  "You mean Kid Curry's on that train?" Hooper demanded.

"Well, of course," said Heyes in an exasperated tone.  "What do you think I'm doing in this stinking town anyway?  We're just meeting up here to get ready for..." he broke off, frowning.  Ready for what?  he thought hopefully.

"Ready for what?" demanded Hooper.

"Nothing," said Heyes, shrugging.  Hooper pulled out his gun and shoved it under Heyes's nose.  Heyes hadn't predicted this, and tensed all over, then forced himself to relax and sigh patiently.  "Well, what do you think?" he asked.  "Our next big job."  The two looked at each other.  Heyes saw the interest in their eyes, and went on, encouraged. "The Kid knows I'm here, and if I don't show up, he'll tear the town apart looking for me.  Not that that's much of a feat in a town this size.  Won't take him too long, I don't expect.  And when he finds you...well. "  He nodded wisely.  "Ever seen the Kid's gun?  Up close, I mean?  Those notches on the handle...he's going to be adding a couple more.  Bring him up to an even two dozen, I believe," he added thoughtfully.

"Hooper..." said Oliver, in a low urgent tone.  Heyes could tell they'd already had this argument.  "Boy, do I feel sorry for you guys," Heyes went on relentlessly, not giving them time to think.  "I wouldn't want to have an angry Kid Curry on my trail.  When he gets mad...brrr."  He shivered.  "Sometimes he aims for the eyeballs.  Sometimes lower.  And you know he never misses.  Never."  Heyes shook his head reminiscently.  "Ever hear of old Thurmond?  Guy who double-crossed us on the Fort Worth  job?"  Oliver shook his head nervously.  "Ah," said Heyes.  "Well, I'll spare you the gory details.  What a temper the Kid has."

Hooper took his gun out of the holster again.  "You're starting to get on my nerves, Heyes," he snarled, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a dirty bandanna.  "You shut up, or I'll make you shut up."

"What alternative?" said Oliver.

"A grateful Kid Curry," said Heyes with a smile.  He held his breath as they looked at each other again.  His hands had gone numb now, but the ache was worse than ever in his arms.

"Huh?" said Oliver.

"Turn me loose," suggested Heyes, very casually.  "I'll tell him how you decided to be regular guys and give me a break.  He'll be awful glad to hear that.  He'll be so glad that he just might persuade me to cut you in on this big job we're planning.  Five thousand is peanuts, boys, peanuts!  You've got to think big!"

The two outlaws looked at each other again.  Heyes could see the greed in their wide eyes.  Hooper dragged an arm across his sweaty forehead.  "It's a sure thing, " Heyes went on.  "You'll love it.  The town has a fat, lazy sheriff, and a safe packed with pesos."  He leaned forward, sensing victory.  "Come on, untie me, we'll go have a beer and I'll tell you all about it.  Then we'll meet the Kid and I'll introduce him to his new partners."

The room was like an oven, Heyes thought, as he watched the two men watch each other.  They were tempted, he could tell, he was almost sure he had won...Then, abruptly, Hooper swung his arm around and hit Heyes in the face with the hand that held the gun.  "Shut up!" he yelled.  Heyes shook his head, feeling a warm trickle of blood from the side of  his mouth. The pain in his head slowly subsided, and he took a deep breath that shook a little.  "That's not gonna change anything," he said.  "Think about it.  Think, for once in your lives."

Oliver pulled insistently at Hooper's arm and dragged him off to the far corner of the room.  Heyes heard the low mutter of their voices.  He waited till Oliver had run out of words and Hooper was starting to raise his voice. Then Heyes said in his pleasant voice, "Jesus, guys, it's hot as hell in here. You don't have to let me die of thirst before you turn me in, do you?"

They turned and stared at him.  Heyes was pleased by the casual tone he had managed.  Hooper rubbed his dirty sleeve across his forehead again.  "It's stinkin’ hot, all right," he said.  "I could use a drink."

"That's a good idea!" said Oliver quickly.  "Why don't you go over to the cantina and get a drink, it is awful hot."  Heyes cursed him silently for the eager light in his eyes.

Hooper stared at him.  "You're awful anxious to get rid of me.  What are you up to, you planning something?"  

"Of course not!" said Oliver indignantly. Heyes reflected bitterly that he'd never seen such a terrible liar.  Hooper glared at him.  "I’m not going anywhere," Hooper said grimly, eyeing the other man with suspicion. "Don’t you forget that.  You want a drink, you go get it yourself."

Oliver left the room sullenly, head hanging.  Heyes cursed him under his breath for ruining the plan.  Hooper sat on the table, swinging one foot and staring at the wall.

"I’ve created quite a dilemma for you , haven’t I?" said Heyes into the silence. 

"What do you mean," asked Hooper, frowning at the door through which Oliver had just departed.

"A dilemma means a problem," Heyes explained kindly.

"I know what the hell it means, what dilemma?" snarled Hooper. 

"Oliver's scared, can't you smell it?" said Heyes softly.  "Scared of Kid Curry.  I’m a little scared of the Kid myself sometimes, to tell you the truth, he can get awful mean when he’s drunk. Kid'll be here in less than an hour, you know. Oliver’s scared , and there’s nothing more dangerous than a scared rat. It'll bite."

Hooper got up and began to pace back and forth in the small room.  Heyes could see that he was sweating. "Now you have to watch out for two dilemmas, not just Kid Curry, but Oliver too." Heyes went on. "But I'm sure you've thought of that. You can keep an eye out for both of them. Of course you have to sleep sometime," he added as an afterthought. 

"Shut up," growled Hooper.

"Why don't you just untie me and solve all your problems?" said Heyes in a low voice.  “Kid Curry 'll be here in..."

Hooper, finally tried past endurance, swung across the room and slammed Heyes in the face so hard the chair rocked backwards. "By Christ, one more word and you're dead," he shouted, brandishing his gun under Heyes's nose.  Heyes shook his head dizzily, realizing that he had lost his very last option, and silence filled the room. 

Hooper alternately paced and looked out the door and down the hall for a long time. Finally they heard quick footsteps on the wooden stairs, and Oliver trotted into the room, out of breath, holding a bottle of dark red wine.

"Where the hell have you been?" demanded Hooper.  "What are you up to?"

"Nothing!" said Oliver.  “Not a thing! I just had a drink myself, that's all." 

Hooper stared at Oliver for a long moment.  Oliver opened his eyes wide and returned the stare, and finally Hooper smiled and smacked him on the back.  "No, I guess not,"  Hooper said.  "Sorry, been listening to this idiot babble on.  My mistake. Listen, check that he's still tied up tight, will ya, he's been working on getting loose."

Oliver put the bottle down on the table and stepped hastily behind the chair. Heyes felt him tug at the ropes.  "No, nice and tight," said Oliver.

"You sure?" asked Hooper. "He's been working on it, I could tell."

"No, come and look for yourself, he'll never get out of this," he replied, and Heyes gritted his teeth as Oliver gave the thongs a painful yank.  Hooper came up behind Oliver.  "I see," he said quietly.