"So what do you want to do today, Kid?" Heyes inquired, leaning back in his chair at the breakfast table, and surveying Kid across the empty plates. "It’s a beautiful day, you wanna see some of the sights in Denver?" Kid didn’t answer, just went on staring out the restaurant’s large glass window at the broad thoroughfare and the passers-by, as he had been doing all through breakfast. Heyes sighed, and picked up his newspaper again. He rattled it loudly, and said "Hmm, gold prices are up again. There’s gonna be a depression one of these days if they’re not careful."

"Mm," said Kid, idly stirring the dregs of his coffee. Heyes glanced at him over the top of the paper, then went back to the news. "Ah, here it says there was a terrible fire in Leadville," he remarked. Silence. "And a stagecoach robbery, six people killed," Heyes went on. "Oh, and they’re building a ten-story building right here in Denver. Don’t know what the world’s coming to."

"Um," said Kid, still staring out the window. Heyes put down the paper and glanced around at the big hotel dining room, almost deserted now, as the breakfast rush was winding down. Although not as lavish as some of Denver’s establishments, the hotel seemed almost sinfully comfortable after the last place they’d stayed, a louse-ridden Mexican boarding house, and they’d decided to give themselves a treat for the holidays: clean forks, unchipped plates, and no bed-bugs.

"This sure is a bang-up hotel," Heyes remarked, eyeing the well-dressed waiter who moved silently from table to table, collecting silverware and china. "Hasn’t got horsemeat on the menu." Kid nodded absently. "Bet they’ll have a good quilting bee going on here after the poker game," Heyes added, draining his coffee cup. "What do you say, Kid, want to do some quilting tonight?"

"Sure," said Kid. Heyes slammed the cup down on the table, making his partner jump. "Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you?" Heyes demanded. "You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last two days. Ever since you got back from Laramie you’ve been like a clam."

"Sorry," said Kid. "What was that? Something about a poker game?"

"You’ve been staring out the window for two days, mooning around like you’re looking for a lost lover or something," said Heyes. "What’s gotten into you?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Kid irritably. "Let’s go sight-seeing."

"Come on, Kid," Heyes said quietly, still leaning back in his comfortable chair. "Tell me. What is it?"

"Nothing, I said!" Kid snapped. He glanced out the window again, and suddenly he stiffened, and Heyes saw his face go white. Mystified, Heyes followed his gaze, but saw nothing outside the window but the apparently endless stream of holiday shoppers on the city street: top-hatted businessmen, ladies with wide skirts, cowboys in denim and leather. All the faces were those of strangers, seen and forgotten in an instant, in the way of passers-by in a strange city.

Heyes turned back to Kid, and demanded in a low tone, "What? Who’d you see? A sheriff?" His partner made no reply, and Heyes stared again out the window. "I don’t recognize anyone..." he began, but Kid shoved his chair back and stood up, making the table sway and the china coffeecups rattle in the saucers. "Forget it!" Kid growled. "It’s nothing, let’s go."

"Well, wait a minute, I have to pay," Heyes said mildly, and strolled over to the mahogany counter in the back of the restaurant, wondering what on earth was going on. Kid sank down in his chair, propping his chin on his fist morosely, and Heyes sighed as he observed that Kid was once more staring out the window.

Heyes paid the breakfast tab, and was just counting his change when he heard a sudden crash. He spun around, and watched open-mouthed as Kid leaped over the chair he had knocked to the floor, and raced out the hotel door. Heyes stood rooted to the ground, watching Kid sprint past the big window, shoving people aside and drawing his gun.

The sight of the weapon galvanized Heyes into activity. He grabbed his hat off the table and flew out the door in Kid’s wake. Kid was already half a block away, elbowing his way through the crowd, leaving a trial of irate and protesting citizens. Heyes groaned, knowing this was just the sort of thing an officious sheriff would be coming over to check on in a minute. He hastened down the street, wondering how his partner could possibly have gotten drunk before breakfast.

Heyes rounded a corner, trying not to shove more people than he had to, and then skidded to a halt, eyes wide. Kid had collared a stocky man with a black beard, and as Heyes watched he shoved the man up against a wall, and thrust the gun under his nose. An angry crowd was gathering round, and the muttering was already starting to rise in volume.

Heyes put a hand on Kid’s shoulder. "Thaddeus, what the hell are you doing?" he hissed. Kid shrugged him off without a word, and glared at the man with an expression of rage such as Heyes had rarely seen. Heyes held his breath, seeing Kid’s finger tense on the trigger.

Kid studied the man’s face for a long moment, then his shoulders sagged. He slowly relaxed his grip, and lowered the gun. The man, white as a sheet, began to shout angrily. Heyes decided not to wait for explanations to the sheriff who would surely be arriving soon. "Come on, Thaddeus," he said between his teeth, then turned to the man, who was beginning to lose his pallor and turn purple with rage. Heyes tried a friendly smile. "Sorry about that," he said cheerfully. "My friend thought you were someone else, very understandable mistake, our apologies.Glad you’ve got such a good sense of humor." He ignored all replies, and dragged Kid off into the crowd. People got out of their way, some eyeing them fearfully, others staring at them with avid curiosity. Heyes could feel their eyes on his back all the way down the street.

He ducked into the first alley they came to, hauling Kid after him. He could feel that Kid was shaking with fury; he tried to pull free of Heyes’ grasp, but Heyes spun him around angrily. "What the Christ are you doing, you idiot?" Heyes snarled. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Leave me alone, will ya?" Kid said, his voice rising angrily, and yanked his sleeve out of Heyes’ grasp.

"Shut up, they’ll hear us," Heyes said furiously, filled with anger at Kid’s stubbornness. He grabbed Kid’s arm again. "We’ve got to..."

"Get away from me!" Kid shouted, and shoved Heyes off violently. Heyes slammed into the brick wall of the alleyway, hard. He staggered and almost fell, then caught his balance and shook his head painfully.

Kid reached out a hand quickly, but Heyes shrugged him off. They stared at each other in the sudden quiet. "You stupid fool," Heyes said, eyes narrowed. "You want to get a sheriff over here to break up the fight?" He was smiling, but not pleasantly, a cold-eyed smile he had never directed at Kid before.

"Sorry, I ..." Kid stammered. Heyes turned his back, strode off down the street and was soon swallowed up in the crowd.

It was long past dinnertime when Heyes got back to the hotel. The big dining room had its usual well-bred hush, with a soothing hum of conversation from a few late diners, and the clink of silverware on china. Heyes scanned the cheerfully lit room till he saw Kid, sitting with his head in his hands, and a half-full bottle of whiskey beside him. Heyes paused in the doorway, then walked quietly across the carpeted floor. He stood behind Kid for a moment, then took off his hat, and tapped Kid on the shoulder.

Kid leaped to his feet and whirled around, drawing his gun as fast as a snake striking. He stared at Heyes with the gun leveled at him, and then the first smile Heyes had seen him give in three days broke across his face. "Heyes!" he exclaimed. "Hey, Joshua, I mean," he added, glancing around at the diners at a nearby tables, who were staring at the two of them with forks halfway to their mouths.

"Shut up," said Heyes in a low voice. "We’ve attracted enough attention already."

"Sorry," Kid muttered, and shoved the gun back in the holster. "I thought you’d...your horse wasn’t in the livery stable, I thought..."

"I went for a ride," said Heyes unsmilingly. "Trying to cool off."

Kid nodded somberly. "I’m sorry, Heyes, I never meant..."

"Oh, shut up," said Heyes again. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, and the neighboring diners went back to their meal, shaking their heads. Kid looked down at him dubiously while Heyes reached for Kid’s glass and poured a shot of whiskey, then took a slow sip. "Not bad," he said, savoring the taste. "Better than the cheap stuff you usually drink. Well, we said we’d splurge a little for the holiday." Kid sat down slowly. "I’m gonna sit here and finish this bottle," Heyes continued. "I’m gonna finish it and I’m not gonna budge till you tell me what the hell’s going on." He raised the glass and took another sip. Kid gazed at him blankly. "Take your time," said Heyes, giving him a level stare. "I’m not going anywhere." Kid looked away, and glanced once again out the window. Heyes waited.

Finally Kid jumped to his feet, and went over to the table where they had had breakfast. He reached under a chair and fished out the crumpled newspaper Heyes had read that morning, scanned the front page, then folded it and handed it to Heyes, indicating an article with a large bold headline.

"Six Killed in Stagecoach Hold-Up," Heyes read aloud, putting down his glass. "Perpetrators Still at Large." He looked at Kid, mystified. "So?" His eyes widened. "You’re not telling me you held up a stage and killed six people while you were away, are you? Can’t I leave you alone for a minute?"

"Jesus, shut up, that’s not funny,"snapped Kid.

"Well, you’ve been acting crazy enough for anything," said Heyes apologetically. He glanced over the rest of the article, murmuring over the paragraphs. "All passengers found dead...two miles outside Denver...no witnesses...shocking brutality...driver killed, two men, a woman and two children ages five and eight..." His voice trailed off, and he looked at Kid, who was leaning his elbows on the table, head bent.

"I was on that stage," said Kid. Heyes watched him, frowning.

"It didn’t seem too bad, at first," Kid said. "Just an ordinary robbery, we’ve done that sort of thing, hands up and nobody gets hurt. But then they saw the woman, and the little girls...They tied up the driver, and the other guy. Then they were going to tie me up, too, but I made a jump for the guy’s gun–almost had it, too, but he jumped back just in time–and...then, I don’t know. One of them must have cracked me on the head, I don’t remember anything else. I woke up, and it was almost dark, and I saw...well. They were all dead."

Heyes refilled the whiskey glass and shoved it over towards Kid. Kid looked up and met his eyes. He nodded, and downed the drink at one gulp. "Getting drunk won’t make me forget it," he said. "I’ve tried."

"Go on," Heyes said softly. "What happened then?"

"Nothing," said Kid. "They were all dead. Stiff and cold, all of’em. Even the little...well, there was nothing I could do. I just...I don’t know...sat there for a while. Then I saw in the distance torches coming, must have been a posse sent out from Denver to look for the stage. I didn’t want to wait around for a sheriff to start asking me questions." Heyes nodded.

"I heard one of’em say they were heading to Denver with the loot," Kid went on. "Said they were gonna live it up in town over Christmas. Treat themselves. And I’m gonna find them, I tell you. Gonna find them..." Heyes put a hand on his arm, and Kid stopped and took a deep breath.

"Sure, we’ll find them," said Heyes soothingly. "We’ll find them someday."

Kid sighed deeply and shook his head. "No, we won’t," he said finally. "I’ll never find them. It’s a needle in a haystack. I’ll never find them." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "But I’ll never be able to stop looking." He leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking around the warm-lit room, wreathed with holiday decorations. "Don’t worry, I’m not crazy," he added, giving Heyes a wan smile.

"No crazier than usual, anyway," said Heyes, hoping for a laugh, but Kid looked away. They sipped the whiskey in silence. "How about some dinner?" Heyes said after a while.

"Sure," Kid said.

Heyes glanced at the big picture window in the restaurant, that showed the smiling crowds laden with holiday packages. "Let’s try the steakhouse down the street," Heyes suggested.

They went out onto the crowded pavement, lit by the cold gleam of gaslights that stood on tall poles at each street-corner. As they walked, Kid looked intently into each stranger’s face that passed by. Heyes put a hand on his shoulder, and they vanished into the crowd.