"Someone’s following us," said Kid Curry softly.

Heyes resisted the urge to swing around in the saddle and stare at the road behind them. He tried hard to keep his back stiff and his eyes straight ahead, but was unable to keep from throwing a quick peek over his shoulder. The road was empty, stretching out behind them in the gathering dusk, fringed with patches of brambles and trees frosted with light snow.

"Don’t look back!" Kid hissed. "We don’t want to let on we know they’re there."

"We don’t know they’re there," Heyes objected. "I don’t hear anything." He felt a sinking in his chest nonetheless; Kid was generally right about these things.

They rode on for a minute, listening to the sound of their horses’ hooves clopping slowly along the frozen mud. Heyes could see his breath steaming in the still air. "You’re crazy," he said, but without conviction, and Kid shook his head. "Nope," he said. "There’s someone following us."

Heyes didn’t want to admit it. "Well, maybe it’s just a passer-by, it’s a public road," he began, but Kid shook his head again. "No, he slows down when we do, and speeds up when we do." He drew his horse to a stop, and Heyes did the same. Behind them he heard a faint thumping that grew fainter the harder he tried to hear it.

"It’s only the wind," he said hopefully. Kid snorted.

"Okay, so what do you want to do?" Heyes asked. He provided the bank-robbing and get-rich-quick schemes, but Kid was the recognized authority when there was shooting to be done. Kid chewed his lip. "These horses are beat," he said. "We’ll never outrun whoever it is. Let’s circle around again."

"Okay," said Heyes nervously. Ever since last night, the long-planned night of their first bank job, he’d been listening for pursuing footsteps behind him, and he knew Kid had been doing the same. Even though the safe-cracking had gone off without a hitch, and the town had been sleeping when they galloped away, he couldn’t rid himself of the notion that they might have been followed.

For an instant Heyes tried to imagine what it would be like not to be scared by unexplained noises. To wait casually for the follower to come up with them, and say, "Howdy, neighbor," and smile, and it would be an old friend, the town grocery-store clerk or someone like that who they’d known for years, an old man with a beard, and he’d wave and say "How’s it going, boys, weather’s turned kinda chilly..."

"Get a move on," said Kid, breaking into his reverie, and Heyes shook himself. "I’ll go around to the left," he said to Kid, pulling his horse around. "You come along behind that ridge on the other side, how’s that?"

"Sounds good," said Kid. "Please try not to shoot me again."

"I didn’t shoot you last time, I missed you by a mile," Heyes protested.

"You blew my hat off," Kid pointed out. "Would have been damn good shooting if you’d been aiming for my hat."

"Oh, shut up," growled Heyes.

"Watch yourself till we know who it is," said Kid. Heyes nodded, and Kid rode off into the shadows.

Heyes rode his horse off the road and into the thicket, but the tired horse made so much noise cracking and crunching through the brush that Heyes slipped off his back and tethered him to a tree. He drew his gun and shoved his way though dense briers that grabbed at his jacket and tugged at his sleeve, like warning hands that were pulling him back. With the heavy six-gun in his right hand, it was hard to push the branches away, and twigs snapped him in the face and poked his eyes. He swore under his breath and pushed on.

Finally he stopped and listened. Nothing. He took a few more steps, and then froze as he say the road up ahead, a dim line of gray in the dusk. He saw no sign of anyone. He waited in the cold till he couldn’t feel his toes anymore, then gave a low whistle.

Kid’s head poked up from the brambles on the other side of the road. Heyes raised his head, too, and Kid ducked hastily when he saw Heyes’ gun. "Cut that out,"snarled Heyes, "or I’ll shoot you for sure, right between the eyes."

"Ah, well, as long as you’re actually aiming at me I’ve got nothing to worry about," said Kid, and pushed though the brush to the road. Heyes joined him, and they looked suspiciously up and down its empty length. Finally Kid shrugged, and they trudged back to get their horses.

It was almost dark when Kid drew rein again, and sat with his head cocked. "Oh, come on..." Heyes began.

"Listen," Kid whispered. Heyes listened, hearing his own heart pounding. He heard the tap of shrivelled oak leaves on the gaunt branches that overhung the road, and a lonesome wind sighing through the pines. Heyes’ saddle creaked as his horse stirred restlessly, wanting to get the journey over with. "Shh!" Kid hissed. Heyes felt his heart speed up as he distinctly heard a rustling noise.

"Maybe it’s only..." he began again, but Kid looked at him sharply, with such an expression of fear in his eyes that Heyes was surprised. Kid never seemed scared. Heyes had thought that he was the only one who felt the cold ripple in his stomach at the soft sounds behind them.

"You stay here," said Kid, looking away. "We make too much noise when both of us go back. You stay here and distract him." He thrust his reins into Heyes’ hand and began to dismount.

"Oh, great," said Heyes. "Pin a little target on the back of my jacket, why don’t you?" But Kid was gone, slipping from his horse and silently melting into the dark.

Heyes led Kid’s horse along in the frosty dusk. and tried to relax, whistling a cheerful tune and coughing from time to time, to convince whoever was following that both of them were riding along unawares. He tried to resist looking behind him, and wondered when this awful trip was going to end.

Then he wondered if it was ever going to end. He wondered if they’d ever be able to hear footsteps behind them without pounding hearts and churning stomachs. He experienced a brief but passionate longing to take the bags of money back to the bank and explain that it all had been a terrible mistake.

He rounded a corner, but there was nothing but more road, stretching gray before him. He wondered how it would feel to round the corner of a familiar road, and see a house with warm lighted windows just ahead, and a smiling face waiting for him...

The rustling silence of the night was cut by a by a single gun-shot. Heyes dropped the reins of Kid’s horse, and drew his gun. For a moment he was tempted to spur off to safety, as far away as possible, but he yanked the horse’s head around and hurried back along the way they had come. He wasn’t sure whether to shout questions and warnings, or try to be sneaky. He galloped back around the corner, and then drew rein abruptly, making the horse skid in the snow. The road was empty. "Kid?" he shouted, feeling cold fear.

He felt a huge wave of relief when Kid shouted, "Yeah, over here!" Heyes looked around and finally spotted Kid in the shadows, standing on a ledge a few feet above the road, a smoking gun in his hand. "Did you get him?" Heyes asked. He felt numb, and gazed at Kid blankly, wondering how he could look so calm.

"Yep," said Kid, with a grin, blowing the smoke from the tip of his gun before holstering it. "Nailed the bastard." Heyes stared at him for a second, amazed that Kid could be so callous, then blew out his breath when he realized Kid was having him on. "He wasn’t actually following us, just lying low and watching us go past," Kid continued, and bent to pick up a dead rabbit by the hind leg. "That’ll teach him. Stupid rookies make lots of mistakes," Kid said, and they looked at each other with rueful grins.

They sat as close to the tiny campfire as they could without scorching their boots, and Kid roasted the rabbit on a stick over the flames. The skin got pretty burnt, but the meat was tender, and they carved bits off with their pocketknives and ate with their fingers. "Pretty good," said Heyes. "I thought we’d be eating steak and caviar after our first big job, but this’ll do." He pulled a flask out of his saddlebag, and took a sip.

"Just wait," said Kid, grabbing the flask and helping himself. "We’ve got to get to a big city, then we can live it up." They grinned at each other, and Heyes gave the saddlebag that held the money a loud slap. "Three thousand," he said. "Just think, Kid, we’ve got three thousand dollars!"

Kid nodded happily. "And easy as rolling off a log, didn’t have to do a day’s work," he added. "Three thousand dollars," he repeated dreamily. "That’ll buy a lot of..." Just then there was a soft crack behind them, and they both leaped to their feet, hands flying to their holsters. They waited, standing like statues in the darkness, but the sound was not repeated, and slowly they sat back down. Heyes felt suddenly weary.

He glanced over at his partner. The flickering firelight didn’t hide the dark shadows beneath Kid’s eyes. They’d been opening the safe all last night, and hadn’t slept much, from excitement, the night before. "Get some sleep," Heyes said. "I’ll take the first watch."

Kid nodded, and rolled himself up in his blanket as close to the fire he as he could get without being on top of it. Heyes felt wide awake; he couldn’t imagine summoning up the courage to go to sleep. He patted the saddlebag again, and knew suddenly that all the money in there was worth nothing-- it was worth less than a handful of wind, because the money in the bag could never buy back their peace of mind, and that they would travel through the rest of their lives with an ear always cocked for a quiet footfall.

There was a rustle in the bushes behind them. Kid half sat up, and Heyes drew his gun. Then they looked at each other sheepishly and shrugged. Their eyes met.

"Only the wind," said Heyes, and Kid nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Only the wind."