Hog Nose Snake

 

By Anita Sanchez

 

 

It was a cold morning, just like the last three desert mornings had been, and Heyes shivered as he unrolled himself from his blanket and stood up.  The cloudless sky was a dim grey, the stars just fading and the faintest tinge of pink rising behind the low cliffs to the east.  Last night’s fire was dead out, the pile of ashes giving no heat at all.  He shivered again as he pulled on his boots, looking around at the empty horizon. He gave the Kid a shove with his foot to wake him up, and set about re-building the fire. 

 

He stacked the bone-dry firewood and lighted it easily with one match.  There was no need of kindling–the sun had long since baked every speck of moisture out of the wood, and it burned fierce and quick like paper. The desert sky was brightening from grey to blue as the sun rose higher over the rocks.  Soon, Heyes knew, the crazy desert temperature would go from icy to broiling, bouncing up and down like a rubber ball.  This country got cold enough to freeze the water in your canteen at night, and by day it was generally hot enough to fry an egg on the baking rocks.  Sure enough, by the time he’d gotten the fire going well, the sun was beating down on his back, and he was starting to sweat.  He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and set the coffeepot on to boil.

 

“Last night sleeping on rocks for a while,” said Kid., rolling up his blanket and dumping it on top of the saddle he’d been using for a pillow.  “I’m looking forward to a mattress for a change.”

He tossed his hat and gun belt on the pile, and looked around for the horses, who were grazing on the sparse tufts of grass not far away.

 

“Ah, Kid, it’s so pretty out here, though,” said Heyes, looking around at the wide horizon.  “Fresh air, peace and quiet.  No smelly hotel rooms with bedbugs, and noisy neighbors keeping you awake all night.”

 

“Damn coyotes howling, though,” growled Kid, stretching to get the kinks out of his back.

 

“Oh, you’re just scratchy before your morning coffee,” said Heyes.  “You’ve gotta relax and enjoy the beauties of nature.”

 

“Well, we ought to get a move on,” said Kid, getting out the frying pan.  “Cavendish won’t pay us the bonus if we don’t deliver those documents by the end of the day.”

 

“I know, I know,” said Heyes.  “You’re always in a hurry, can’t ever relax.”

 

They fried bacon and beans in the frying pan and then sat on either side of the fire finishing their coffee.  Heyes still felt in no hurry to go.  It was indeed a beautiful morning, the tall crags and flat-topped mesas all around them glowing red under the blue sky.  He moved a few feet back from the fire as the sun grew hotter.  Holding his tin mug in one hand, he leaned back on one arm to admire the morning light on the cliff face high above.

 

A dry, rattling, rustling sound from behind made him start and drop the cup.  He was just about to turn around when Kid shot out “Don’t move! Heyes, don’t move, don’t move a finger.  Hold still, for Christ’s sake, hold still.”

 

Heyes looked at Kid’s face, not daring to turn his head.  Kid, white-faced, was staring at a point just past  Heyes’ left arm. 

 

“Rattler?” Heyes asked weakly, aware that it was probably a stupid question.

 

“About three inches from your hand, a big one.  Don’t move,” said Kid, not taking his eyes off the snake. Heyes tried to slow down his breathing and hold perfectly still.  Kid made a slow movement with his hand, and the rattle sounded again fiercer than ever.  Without moving his head, Heyes shot a glance at Kid’s holster, lying on the saddle where Kid had tossed it a few minutes ago, only about three feet away.  Three feet out of reach.

 

“Just hold still, Heyes,” Kid repeated.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Heyes told him. He could feel his own pulse pounding in his ears. Kid took a deep breath and eased himself up onto one knee.  Moving almost imperceptibly, he stretched out his hand to the gun belt.  He grasped it, then began to lift.  The movement made the snake rattle again.

 

“Hurry up, will ya?” said Heyes through his teeth.  “I don’t know how long I can keep my legs from running.”  He wasn’t trying to be funny. A voice in his head was screaming in panic: “Run! Run!” and he fought down the instinct that told him to leap up and get out of there.

 

“Shhh, you’ll spook it,” hissed Kid. “Hold still.”

 

“Snakes are deaf,” said Heyes irritably.

 

“Well they’re not blind, and if I hurry this one’s gonna really get annoyed.  Just hold still.”

 

“Will you stop saying that?” snapped Heyes.  “Get on with it!”

 

Kid inched the gunbelt closer, then slowly brought this right hand closer to the gun.  He eased it from the holster, inch by inch.

 

“I thought you were the fastest gun in the west,” murmured Heyes.  The arm supporting his weight was starting to shake slightly. 

 

“No one ever won a fast draw against a rattler,” said Kid, bringing the gun up slowly.  Heyes thought of nightmares he had had as a child, where everything seemed to move in a terrible slowness.  Kid leveled the gun, and narrowed his eyes as he aimed an inch from Heyes’ hand.  Heyes closed his eyes.

 

At the explosion of the gun he couldn’t help snatching his hand away.  He heard the bullet zing off the rock just beside him, then whine into the distance.  He slumped down on one elbow, breathing as hard as if he’d run a mile.

“I don’t think so,” said Heyes, sitting up.  “I didn’t feel anything.”

 

“Looks okay,” said Kid, sitting back on his heels with a sigh of relief.  Heyes glanced down at the snake.  Its head was shattered, the body tangled in a knot on the pile of dead sage brush leaves where it had been hidden.  The mottled golden-brown body was the same color as the rocks and dried leaves where it had lain hidden.  Kid picked up a stick and lifted the snake’s limp body.  He glanced it over, and his eyes widened as he looked at the snake’s tail. “Oh, no,” he said.  “Look at this.”

 

Heyes looked the snake over and frowned as he examined the tail.  It came to a narrow point with no trace of a rattle.  Suddenly he realized what had happened. “My God,” he groaned and collapsed flat on his back.  “All that for nothing.”  He didn’t know whether to laugh or to shout out curses till he was hoarse.

 

“Hog nose snake” said Kid regretfully. “I’ve seen’em do that a few times, but this one gave the best imitation of a rattler I ever saw.”

 

“It was the dried leaves,” said Heyes, sitting up.  He stirred the leaves with a finger and they gave off a rustling, rattling sound.  “All he had to do was move his tail, and it sounded just like a rattler.”

 

“That’s how they scare away their enemies, I guess,” said Kid.  “All bluff.  They sure aren’t poisonous, I knew someone when I was a kid who kept one as a pet.”

 

“Well, it sure scared me out of a year’s growth,” said Heyes.  His hands were still shaking.    Kid shoved his gun back in the holster and grinned..  “You’ll admit,” he said, “There’s something to be said for a good hotel.”

 

 

 

Heyes and Kid leaned against the saloon bar , watching as the bartender poured double shots of whiskey into their glasses.  The bartender watched with a rather sour expression as they lifted the glasses and clinked them together before drinking.

 

“Well, you boys look happy,” he said, eyeing them curiously.

 

“Yeah, we just got paid.  It’s a nice feeling isn’t it?” said Kid expansively.  “Good money for a job well done.”  He finished his drink in one gulp.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I see it all the time,” sighed the bartender. “Got your hands on a few bucks and

I suppose the money’s burning a hole in your pocket.  Guys like you never learn.  Want another?” he asked, pointing to their empty glasses.

 

“Why don’t you just leave the bottle?” said Heyes, sliding a dollar bill across the bar.

“Well, Kid,” said Heyes, pouring another drink for both of them. “What’ll it be, blackjack or poker?”

 

“Heyes, you really gotta get your priorities straight,” said Kid, shaking his head.  “The question is, steak or roast beef?”

 

“And after that I suppose it’ll be blonde or brunette? You know, that bartender’s right, you should do something to increase your money instead of throwing it away,” said Heyes.

 

“Well, what’s the point of finally having cashed in if we can’t have a little fun...” Kid broke off as he became aware that a man leaning on the bar was listening intently to their conversation.

 

“Sorry, friend,” said the man a little shamefacedly as Kid caught his eye. “Didn’t mean to be eavesdropping, but I’m a little envious. You boys had some good luck, huh?”

 

“No, not exactly,” said Kid good-humoredly.  “Just the rewards of a job well done.”

 

“You boys look like you been riding out on the range, though,” said the man, eyeing their dusty clothes.  What kind of work pays well out there, I wonder?”

 

“What’s it to you, friend?” said Heyes pleasantly, feeling that this had gone far enough. 

 

“Oh, nothing at all, just making conversation.  You guys look like you been out on the trail for a while.”

 

“Oh, only a few days,” said Kid.

 

“Really?” said the man.  “There’s an awful lot of nothing in the desert out here–no ranches or herds.  Just a lot of rock and dust.”

 

“Well, we were enjoying the beauties of nature, you see,” said Kid solemnly with a glance at Heyes.  “It’s beautiful out there, you know, fresh air, peace and quiet, no smelly hotel bedrooms or noisy neighbors...” Heyes whacked him with his hat, raising a cloud of dust, and they both burst out laughing.  The stranger laughed politely, watching them.

 

“Well, pardon us, friend, but we gotta go, said Heyes, putting on his hat.  “Nice talking to you, but we got a couple of sirloin steaks waiting for us.”

 

“You haven’t quite finished the bottle,” the man pointed out.

 

“Help yourself, pal,” said Kid as they walked away.  The man watched them go, then poured himself a drink.  He stared at the whiskey in the glass, frowning thoughtfully. 

 

“Little too nosy, that guy,” Heyes murmured as they walked out the swinging saloon doors. “Let’s find someplace else for dinner and stop talking so loud about how much money we got.”

They found another saloon and spent a pleasant evening, but they were both tired from the long day’s ride and decided to turn in around midnight.  They sauntered down the deserted street on the way back to the boarding house where they had left their horses and booked a very comfortable room.  As they passed the barn where their horses were stabled, Heyes heard a creaking noise as thought the barn door were slowly opening.  He was just turning his head when a voice behind them said “Hold it right there, boys, hands up. Way up.”

 

Heyes immediately recognized the voice as their acquaintance from the saloon.  “Still just making conversation, friend?” he asked. 

 

“Shut up!” said the voice and Heyes felt his gun being swiftly pulled from the holster.  Then rough hands grabbed him from behind and shoved him through the barn door.  He was pushed down onto a pile of sweet-smelling hay, Kid landing on top of him.  He rolled over and looked around the dark barn, wondering what on earth they’d gotten into now.

 

The stranger they’d encountered in the saloon was holding a lantern that cast a dim circle of light.  He kept his gun pointed at them. In the shadows two other men stood, also with drawn guns. Hold up, thought Heyes. How stupid are we to fall for this? The two most successful bank robbers in the history of the west and we get rolled for a few hundred dollars.  He picked himself up from the straw, and brushed himself off. 

 

“Where’s the money?” said the tallest man.  His face was hidden in the shadows, but Heyes could see the gun pointed unwaveringly right at him.

 

“You can have what I got, but I think you’ll be disappointed, boys,” said Heyes.  “I haven’t got but about forty dollars.” He took a roll of bills from his pocket.  The rest was in his boot, but he didn’t have much hope that they’d miss it.

 

“Oh, we had a little more than that in mind, Heyes,” said the tall man stepping out of the shadows into the circle of light.  Heyes and Kid both stared at him.  “Kraft!” said Heyes uneasily.  “Long time no see.”

 

“Wasn’t expecting to see you either, Heyes,” said Kraft, with a pleasant smile.  “You boys been lying kind of low lately.  I was pretty surprised to look up and see you knocking back the whiskey in the saloon this evening.  Just got to wondering what it was you boys were celebrating, so I sent Jobson here over to find out.”

 

There was a pause.  Heyes tried to look unconcerned and made an effort not to catch Kid’s eye.  “Well, we just finished a job and we had a little extra money for a change,” said Kid. “No big deal.”

 

“No big deal, eh?” said Kraft.  “But if Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry are celebrating a big payday, then I’d kind of like to get in on it.”

 

“Not a job like you’re thinking,” Heyes explained.  “The Kid’s talking about a job, like you get paid for.  We delivered some important documents to a lawyer in this town, and he paid pretty well.  Two hundred dollars apiece.”

“Enjoying the beauties of nature,” added their acquaintance from the saloon.  “That’s a good one.”  He and the other man snickered, but Kraft remained grim.

 

“There was a bank in Abilene, just north of here, robbed last week,” he said.  “You boys rode in here from the north.  No one knows who did it, but they got clean away with a hundred thousand dollars.”

 

“Well good luck to them, but it wasn’t us,” said Heyes.  “You many not believe this, but we’re retired, actually, going straight.  Haven’t done a bank job in ages.”

 

“You’re right, as usual, Heyes,” said Kraft.  “I don’t believe you. So you’re gonna tell us where you hid that money.”

 

“You’re a little too smart for your own good, Kraft,” said Heyes, shrugging casually. “I tell you we haven’t got more than two hundred apiece.”

 

Kraft tightened his finger on the trigger and the click of the hammer was audible in the quiet barn.  Kid’s hand involuntarily went to his empty holster.  “Don’t try to be so funny,” said Kraft in a low voice. “I’ve heard you boys have a sense of humor, but I ain’t in a joking mood.  We know you buried that money out in the desert somewhere, and you’re going to tell us where.”

 

“You’ve got the wrong guys,” said Heyes with a friendly smile, shaking his head. “I don’t know what...”

 

The tall man didn’t wait for him to finish.  “Tie him up,” he growled to the other two, jerking his head towards Kid.  The two grabbed Kid and shoved him against one of the beams that supported the barn roof.  One of the men yanked Kid’s hands behind his back and roughly tied him to the post.  The tall man strode over and placed the barrel of his gun an inch from Kid’s head.

 

“Jesus, wait a minute,” said Heyes. “What are you doing?”

 

“The money,” said Kraft.  “A hundred thousand dollars.  It’s a lot of money.  Is it worth dying for?” He looked over at Heyes.  “I’m not a patient man,” he said.  “So I’m only gonna count to three.  One...”

 

“God almighty, stop it!” yelled Heyes.  He started to move forward, but the other two grabbed him.  “Two...” continued Kraft, still looking at Heyes.

 

“He’s telling the truth,” Kid said desperately, straining at the rope that tied his hands.  “We haven’t got your money!”

 

“Three...”

“That’s more like it, “ said the tall man, withdrawing the gun and letting the hammer down gently.  Kid slumped against the post, glad it was holding him up.  He felt dazed.  He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on what the others were saying.

 

“...and you’re right, we buried it out in the desert,” he heard Heyes’ voice say, a ring of sincerity in every word.

 

“Tell us where it is, and we’ll ride on out.  We’ll leave you two tied up here so’s we can get a good head start,” said Kraft, smiling broadly.

 

“Oh, sure you will,” said Heyes, smiling just as wide. He looked relaxed and casual.  “We tell you where a hundred thousand dollars is, and you just pat us on the head, say thanks, and ride off.  No, sir.”

 

“I asked you before, you think it’s worth getting dead over?”

 

“Nothing’s worth getting dead over, we’re gonna cut you in,” Heyes assured him.  “But how are you stupid lugs gonna find one little spot way out in the desert.  There’s no way we could just tell you where it is.  It’s buried under a rock, three days ride from here, and there’s an awful lot of rocks out there.” There was such a ring of conviction in Heyes’ voice that for a second Kid wondered blurrily if they had really robbed that bank and it had slipped his mind.

 

“He’s telling the truth, boys,” Kid pitched in.  “You could look for a month and not find it.  You need us to show it to you.”

 

“Oh yeah?” said Kraft looking at him with a dangerous glint.  “Well we don’t need both of you.  We’ll take you both along for insurance, but don’t try anything.  If by any chance we don’t find that money, twenty thousand dollars is a pretty good consolation prize.”  He turned to the other two.  “Come on, Jobson, saddle up the horses.  Armstrong, keep an eye on them while I get our stuff.”

 

Heyes edged closer to Kid as the three outlaws made preparations for the journey, the man named Armstrong watching them with drawn gun.  Kid leaned back against the post and sighed.  “I sure hope you have a hundred thousand dollars that I don’t know about hidden under a rock out there,”  he murmured under his breath.  Heyes smiled, not taking his eyes off Kraft.

 

“Even if I did, it wouldn’t do us any good,” he muttered back.  “Soon as we showed’em where it was, we’d be dead. No, we just gotta string’em along, bluff’em till we can get away. That’s why I said it was three days ride from here.  If we can’t get away from these idiots in three days...”  His voice trailed off.

 

“String ‘em along, that’s your plan?” asked Kid. “That’s it?”

 

“Bluff’em,” repeated Heyes confidently.  “Like in a poker game.  Like the hog nose snake.”

As usual, Heyes woke up shivering in the cold desert morning.  But he was far from appreciating the beauty of the sunrise as he had only a few days ago.  This was the third night he and Kid had spent tied hand and foot, guarded by one of the three men with a drawn gun. The three weren’t taking any chances on losing out on the mythical hundred thousand dollars, Heyes thought bitterly.  One of them was eyeing them closely, gun in hand, every minute.

 

“You two come on over here and make yourselves useful,” ordered Kraft, sitting down on a convenient rock near the remains of last night’s dead campfire.  Jobson came over with an armload of firewood and dumped it on the ground.  “Get the fire going,” Kraft commanded.  “Get some coffee going, and some bacon.  Move it.”

 

As usual the firewood was bone dry, and Heyes soon had a fire going quick and fierce.  He filled the coffeepot water from a canteen, and set it near the fire. Kid meanwhile was getting out the frying pan and slicing bacon. Soon steam was issuing from the nose of the coffeepot, and the bacon was starting to sizzle.

 

“This is the last of the bacon, and the coffee too,” remarked Heyes over his shoulder to Kraft. “Not much left but crackers. You guys didn’t plan this trip too well.”

 

“Well, we weren’t expecting to take such a long excursion,” said Kraft.  “You said three days.”

 

“I said about three days,” Heyes snapped back.

 

“Well, we’ll make up for short rations once we get the dollars,” said Kraft, sounding almost affable for once.

 

 “He seems to be in a good mood,”   Heyes said under his breath to Kid, who was crouching beside him as they tended to the cooking chores. 

 

“Yeah, I get the feeling he’s enjoying ordering us around and having us do the cooking,” Kid muttered back. “He always did like to throw his weight around.”

 

“You guys better come through today, or it’ll be the last day you’ll have to worry about eating, anyway,” Kraft remarked. He leaned back and stretched, looking around at the sunrise.  For once, his gun was in his holster.

 

Heyes felt Kid nudge him in the ribs, and looked over.  Kid gave him a meaningful look, tilted his head towards Kraft, and then slightly raised the frying pan, sizzling with bacon fat.  Heyes’ eyes widened.  He knew immediately what Kid was suggesting, but it seemed much too risky. He shook his head slightly, with a quick frown.

Heyes looked at Kid out of the corner of his eye.  Kid hefted the frying pan again, and Heyes thought fast.  This was the fourth morning of the fruitless quest, and they weren’t going to able to bluff much further.  He sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

 

Kid flashed three fingers, and Heyes nodded again.  He took a deep breath, and grasped the coffeepot, feeling the tension mounting in his stomach. He watched as Kid lifted the pan slightly, once, twice, a third time.  Then suddenly Kid whipped around and smashed the heavy cast iron pan into Kraft’s face.  Heyes swung the boiling coffeepot and flung a cascade of steaming water over the other two.  Kid dived towards Kraft, trying for his gun, but the man jumped back just in time, and fired at Kid.  The shot went wild, but Heyes decided not to waste time trying for the weapons.  Armstrong and Jobson were both drawing their guns, cursing with the pain of the burns. (Sorry!)

 

“Come on, run!” Heyes yelled.  He took off, Kid right behind him, and they dived behind a rock as bullets winged off it.  They scrambled around a rock face, and stopped, panting, for a moment, their eyes darting up and around looking for the best escape route.

 

“Now what?” gasped Heyes as they crouched behind the boulder.  “This was your idea.”

 

“Well, so far, so good,” Kid said, breathing hard.  “Now I’ve got another idea.”

 

“Oh yeah?” panted Heyes.  “What?”

 

“Run,” said Kid.  “Run like hell.”

 

Kid scrambled up the ridge, panting, breathing in dust, his boots slipping on the bare rock slope, Heyes right behind him.  As they climbed higher, their pursuers caught sight of them, and a sudden hail of shots spattered against the rocks, kicking up chips of stone.

 

Heyes suddenly felt a hard blow on his leg, as though someone had kicked him.  He lost his hold on the rock, and began to slide back. Digging his fingers into the dry grass that clung to the rocks, he stopped his slide and started to scramble up again.  There was a sharp pain in the side of his thigh.  He made it to the top of a ledge and rested on hands and knees for a second, spitting out dust. 

 

Kid was already climbing above him on the next steep section.  Heyes jumped to his feet, but the landscape tilted and spun around for a second, and he sank back down on the rock.  He looked at his leg to see why it hurt, and was surprised to see blood staining his jeans.

Heyes started to follow him towards the steep face of the rock, and was amazed to crash to the ground as soon as he put his weight on his wounded leg.  He scrambled to his feet, feeling sick, and tried again, but once more landed on the ground.  Kid ran back and tried to pull Heyes to his feet, cursing.

 

Heyes knocked his hand away.  “Get out of here, Kid, go!  Get going!”

 

Kid ignored him.  “Come on, Heyes, come on, they’ll be here in a minute.”

 

“No!” shouted Heyes.  “Get out of here, Kid, now!  Run!”

 

“I’m not leaving you, Heyes,” Kid shouted back.  “You can just forget it.”  He bent over Heyes to haul him up.

 

Heyes grabbed Kid’s jacket, his eyes blazing.  “Look,” he said, his voice low and urgent.  “Don’t you get it?  They only need one of us to lead them to the money.  They don’t need both of us.  And they’re mad as hornets right now.  If they catch both of us, one of us is going to be dead in the next five minutes.”

 

Kid stared at him in amazement.  “I’m not gonna run out on you,” he repeated,  slapping his empty holster for the hundredth time, his hand automatically reaching in search of the gun that was missing.  “I’m not running out, Heyes.” 

 

Heyes smiled suddenly.  “I know, Kid.  But it makes no difference.  One of us‘ll be dead for sure if you stay.  It could be you, it could be me.”  He gave Kid a shove.  “Get going.  Go on!”

 

Kid got to his feet and took a step away.  Then they both swung round to look at the ledge as they heard shouts, coming closer up the hill.  Kid turned back to Heyes and stared at him for what seemed to both of them like a long time.  “Go on,” Heyes said softly.  Kid abruptly turned and ran.

 

He  flung himself up the slope, tearing his hands on the rock, cursing out loud in gasps.  He climbed behind an outcrop and vanished just as the pursuers clambered over the rocks to the ledge where Heyes sat, watching Kid safely out of sight.

 

Kid watched from high above, hidden behind a rock outcrop, as the three pursuers clambered over the lip of the cliff ledge and surrounded Heyes menacingly. Even from high above Kid could see the angry red burns on Kraft’s face.  Kraft grabbed Heyes by the front of his jacket, heaved him up and hit him savagely.  Heyes fell flat.

He peered back over the cliff in time to see Kraft give Heyes a kick.  Kid cursed again, louder this time.  Kraft was just drawing back his foot for another kick when Jobson grabbed his arm.  Kraft pulled free angrily, but Jobson shouted and gesticulated and Armstrong joined in.  The argument continued for a long time.  Kraft pointed up the hill in the direction Kid had disappeared in, but the other two shook their heads. 

 

Finally Kraft grabbed Heyes jacket and jerked him to his feet.  Heyes staggered but managed to keep his footing. Armstrong yanked Heyes arms behind his back and tied his hands, then the two dragged Heyes back down the way they had come, Kraft following.

 

Kid leaned back against the rock and dragged a sleeve across his eyes.  He muttered every dirty name he could think of.  But that wouldn’t help.  He had to do something, make a plan, think of something.

 

Tools.  Heyes always had a carefully organized equipment list anytime they hit a bank or a train.  He slapped his empty holster yet again, and then checked his pockets.  Kraft had gone over them both pretty thoroughly, taking all their money and checking for hidden weapons.  He hadn’t missed much. Kid found a box of matches, a tiny pocket knife with a blade about two inches long that he used for paring fingernails, a few coins, a length of twine, and a pencil stub.  Not much potential there.  Think , think he told himself fiercely.  He looked around at the empty cliffs, the dry branches of sagebrush carved into strange shapes by years of wind and sand.  The sage and small twisted pinon pines were the only greenery in the desolate landscape.  “Think!” he said out loud, touching the empty holster.  No gun, no bullets, no weapons.  Anything he did would have to be all bluff.  Pure bluff.  Like the hog nose snake.

 

Heyes couldn’t help glancing around from time to time.  Half of him hoped the Kid was safely and sensibly hiding out somewhere.  The other half hoped that Kid would miraculously appear on top of one of the rock rises and miraculously rescue him.  It would have to be a miracle, he thought hopelessly.  There didn’t seem to be any logical way out. The bluff had failed, and Kraft and the other two were starting to catch on.

 

Heyes was riding in front of the other three.  All of them had their guns trained on his back, and were plainly in no mood to tolerate further escape attempts.  Heyes moved his shoulders, trying to ease the ache in his back from his bound hands pulled tightly behind him.  He had twisted and tugged at the rawhide thongs till his wrists were cut and bleeding, but with no success.

 

“Much further?” growled Kraft.  “I told you, Heyes, I’m not a patient man. I’m running out of patience, Heyes.  And you’re running out of time.”

They’d been riding for an hour under the noonday sun, the horses slowly picking their way over a steep trail.  Heyes had chosen this way, off the flat desert floor, in the thin hope of finding a section of brush where he could jump off the horse and make a run for it.  With his hands tied behind him and a gash in his leg, he knew he’d never get far, but he couldn’t think of anything better.  He glanced around trying to nerve himself for a dash.  He knew from the muttering behind him that it would have to be soon.  But the stretch they were on now, steep cliffs and bare rock, had almost no cover.

 

A pile of rocks against a cliff face gave him an idea.  Maybe he could give them something to concentrate on besides himself.  He took a deep breath, knowing this was the last bluff.

 

“Well, here we are, boys,” he announced.  “Told you we’d get here sooner or later.”  He made a show of checking various landmarks.  “Yep, this is the place.”  He pointed to the huge pile of rocks.  “Right there.”

 

“Where?” demanded Jobson.

 

“Under those rocks,” Heyes told him with a cheerful smile.  “Better get busy, boys.”

 

“What, you and the Kid moved all those rocks?”  Kraft asked incredulously.  “Those rocks look like they been there for years.”

 

“That’s why we’re the best,” Heyes said with a modest smile. “Took us the whole day to get’em to look like that.”

 

Kraft gave him a glance with narrowed eyes.  “Okay,” he said.  “We‘ll look.  But we better find something.” 

 

“Oh, you will,” Heyes assured him.  “I can see no one’s been here since me and the Kid.”

 

At a nod from Kraft, Armstrong and Jobson dismounted and yanked Heyes off his horse.  Heyes fell heavily, unable to keep his balance.  “Tie him to that tree,” growled Kraft, pointing to a half-dead pinon pine nearby.  “I’m not taking any chances.”  They hauled Heyes over to the tree and shoved him up against it. Heyes closed his eyes as Armstrong roughly tied him to the tree.  He knew there was no way out now.  He leaned against the tree as the three men grunted and heaved over the pile of rocks.  The mid-day sun baked down as the three men sweated at their work, cursing as they lifted the heavy rocks.

 

It took an hour.  Heyes tried to fight a growing sense of panic as the rock pile got smaller and smaller.  Finally Kraft heaved the last rock off the pile and they were down to bedrock.  Plainly nothing had ever been buried there.  The three men looked at each other.  Kraft nodded.

Heyes felt his mouth go dry.  He wanted to yell for help, but he knew no one would hear.  Kraft was reaching out his knife when a calm voice behind them said “Hold it right there, boys.  Hands up. Way up.”

 

All four of them looked around in amazement.  Heyes gave a gasp of relief as he saw Kid, standing on a rise just behind them, hands on his hips. Then fear filled him again.  What could the Kid do without a gun?  They’d both just end up dead.  His eyes went to Kid’s empty gunbelt, and he blinked in surprise as he saw the familiar gun handle sticking out of the holster.

 

“Hands high, boys,” said Kid easily.  “Sorry it took me so long to catch up with you, Heyes, I had to go back a ways for those guns we stashed.”

 

“Oh good,” said Heyes promptly, trying not to look as mystified as he felt.  “Glad you found them all right.”

 

Jobson and Armstrong obediently held their hands high.  Kid Curry’s dangerous reputation was well known.  But Kraft’s hand was hovering near his gun.  Heyes opened his mouth to shout a warning as Kraft went for his weapon, but Kid spotted him and whipped his gun out of the holster with his usual blinding speed.  He didn’t fire the gun, somewhat to Heyes’ surprise, but Kraft stopped in mid -draw and put his hands up reluctantly.

 

Kid slid carefully down the slope and walked behind the three, pulling the guns from their holsters.  He put his own gun back in the holster, and kept Kraft’s gun in his hand as he relieved the men of their weapons.  He picked up Kraft’s long knife from where Kraft had dropped it. 

 

“Lie down, boys, face down,” he said.  “Hands over your heads, that’s it.” Without taking his eyes off them he backed over to Heyes.  He looked down swiftly, and sliced the rawhide that tied his hands and the rope that bound him to the tree.  Heyes sank to the ground feeling dizzy at how fast things had turned around.  Kid went over to the horses, and rummaged around in the saddlebags for some rope.

 

“Lucky for you boys we’re not the revengeful sort that cut peoples fingers off,” he remarked as he pulled Kraft’s hands behind his back.  “We’re just gonna tie you up and take all the horses, but don’t worry, we’ll leave you a canteen or two.  Shouldn’t take you more than a day or two to get untied.”

 

He picked up one of the canteens slung on Jobson’s saddle and walked over to where Heyes was sitting, rubbing his wrists to try and get some feeling back in his fingers.  Kid handed him the canteen, and Heyes took a long drink.

 

“You able to ride?” asked Kid, frowning as he looked him over.

 

“You kidding?” said Heyes.  “Let’s make tracks.”

 

Kid nodded.  “Sounds good,” he said.  He started to stand up but Heyes grabbed his arm.