December 1877

By InsideOutlaw

Five strangers rode into the town of Buford with their hats pulled low shading their grim expressions from the late day sun. No one paid much attention to them. People walked by carrying armloads of brightly wrapped presents for their loved ones, others were busy wrapping up their workday and eager to return to their homes and families before the cold night descended. The ones who weren’t doing either were to be found bellied up to one of Buford’s two drinking emporiums beginning their evening’s entertainment.

The riders traveled up Main street and pulled up outside of the more raucous of the two bars. Music and loud voices poured out of the doors as a man exited and staggered drunkenly up the street. Four of the five men dismounted and the fifth took the reins of the others and led the horses away, quickly disappearing down a side street. The other four watched him go and then stepped up onto the boardwalk.

“See anything?” asked Hannibal Heyes. His partner, Kid Curry, shook his head as did the other two men, Kyle Murtry and Wheat Carlson. “All right. We split up here. The Kid and I will meet up with you behind the mercantile at 10 o’clock sharp. “Got It?”

“Yeah, we got it,” smirked Wheat, sarcastically, “C’mon, Kyle, let’s go get us a couple of beers while we kill some time.”

“You’d better be sober when we meet up,” growled Curry under his breath.

Kyle flashed a tobacco-stained smile. “Don’t you worry, Kid. Me and Wheat can hold our likker just fine. Can’t we, Wheat?” He looked up at his much taller friend.

“Wheat, if you two screw this up, you’ll be answerin’ to me.” The Kid stared coldly at the older man until he finally submitted with a drop of his eyes and mumbled, “Quit worryin’. We’ll be ready.”

*****

“Where are they?!” snarled Heyes.

“It’s only five after. Don’t get your tail in a twist.” The Kid was leaning nonchalantly against the alley wall of the mercantile. He held a cigar clenched between his teeth but he still managed to smile at his outraged friend.

“I told them nine sharp!”

“What difference does it make if they’re late? Ain’t like we’re on a time schedule.” The tip of the cigar glowed red as Curry inhaled.

“That’s not the point!” Heyes’ face darkened a lovely shade of red and his voice rose as he said, “If I tell them nine, I want them here at nine, not nine-fifteen or nine-thirty! At nine, there’ll still be enough folks around that we won’t stand out and the ones who are around aren’t likely to be sober.”

“I’d say if you want ‘em here by nine-fifteen or even by nine-thirty, you better go get ‘em.” A thick stream of smoke accompanied this statement.

“Of all the...Keep an eye on things, will you?,” Heyes balled his fists and stalked away.

*****

“Well, read ‘em and weep, gents. That’s three lovely ladies.” Chuckling, Wheat leaned forward and began to wrap his arms around a sizeable stack of coins and bills.

“Hold on there, friend.” A tall, gaunt young man wearing a dinner jacket and tie placed his hand firmly on Wheat’s arm and held fast. “You’ve haven’t seen my cards yet.”

Wheat glared at the hand and jerked his arm away. “Don’t have to. You ain’t had jack all afternoon. I’ll tell you what, you’d best work on your poker face before you lose all your mama’s egg money.”

The well-dressed young man’s mouth curled up slightly as he laid down his cards. “Full house, jacks high, and a pair of sevens.”

Kyle’s jaw drops open. “That beats three of a kind.”

“Yup,” grinned the young man.

“Where’d you get those cards?!” snapped Wheat belligerently.

His red-headed adversary laughed out loud and then gave Wheat a measuring look. “Same place you did.” He paused, snapped both of his sleeves’ cuffs, and said clearly, “From the deck.”

“Why you…” Kyle threw himself in front of Wheat as his big friend made a lunge. Both men were startled by a deep voice whispering loudly into their ears and hands clamping down hard onto their shoulder.

“Can’t you two stay outta trouble for five minutes?!” An angry Hannibal Heyes hissed. “You’re late! Let’s go! Now!” His eyes cut to the youth. “My apologies, mister. Good trail hands are hard to come by. I’ve got to take what I can get.”

“No offense taken, sir. I understand your dilemma.”

Both Kyle and Wheat looked over their shoulders at the money piled on the table behind them and sighed. Wheat swallowed hard as though choking down an unpleasant meal. “Sorry,” he whispered insincerely before Heyes spun him around and pushed him towards the door.

“Heyes…” began Wheat.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear another word out of either of you.” Marching up the sidewalk ahead of his men, Heyes scanned the street for anyone paying more attention than they should’ve been. “You better hope no one goes looking for the two idiots who almost started a bar fight.”

“Wheat was gonna level that guy for cheatin’,” offered Kyle.

“You ain’t helpin’, Kyle,” growled Wheat.

The three men turned into the alley where the Kid awaited them. “Nine twenty-one. Didn’t Heyes tell you nine sharp?”

Looking sheepish, Wheat replied. “I had me a winnin’ hand, Kid.”

“Yeah, except it weren’t,” said Kyle.

Cold blue eyes bore into them. “I don’t care what you had goin’. When Heyes tells you nine, it means nine. We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we’ve got a job to do.” He glanced at his partner who still looked too angry to speak. “Let’s go.”

*****

“Gibson’s Savings and Loan,” said Heyes as he bent over the lock on the rear door of the two-story brick building, “is the biggest bank in the county. Word has it the owner, Louis Gibson, made a fortune lending to desperate homesteaders with nowhere else to turn. It’s gonna feel real good to give Gibson a Christmas surprise.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Heyes,” smiled Curry. A loud click announced the chickens had indeed hatched. He looked back to make sure that Wheat and Kyle were on opposite ends of the alley keeping watch. “We better get a move on. Hank’s going to be here with the horses in less than twenty minutes and you’ve got to get that safe open.”

“I know that.” Heyes pushed the door open and they both slipped inside. The light from the streetlamp out in front lit the area by the teller’s cages but couldn’t reach the rear of the building through the heavy wooden door that separated the two rooms. The Kid quickly looked around while Heyes lit a small hurricane lamp he’d brought with him. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner decorated with dollar bills. “Sheesh, talk about the love of money.”

Heyes settled down on his knees beside a large safe tucked behind a huge oak desk. “Ah, a Miller 501. This shouldn’t take long.”

It didn’t. With a gleeful burble, Heyes swung open the heavy steel door and reached inside. He pulled out several bundles of crisp bills which he handed to the Kid who tucked them inside multiple pockets sewn into his sheepskin jacket. “Alright, let’s go,” said Curry.

“Hold on a sec.” Heyes pulled out a sheaf of papers gaily bounded by a red ribbon and fanned through them. He held them up. “Gibson has a nasty sense of humor. These are eviction notices. He’s calling in his loans.”

“This time of the year? I’m feelin’ better and better about this job, Heyes..”

The dark-haired outlaw leader placed the documents back in the safe and softly closed the door before standing up. He paused, looking thoughtful.

“There’s nothing you can do and our time’s up. We’ve got to go.”

Patting his partner’s chest, Heyes nodded his agreement. “Sure wish we could see his face when he opens his safe in the morning.”

“If we don’t get a move on, you may get that wish. Let’s go!” The Kid shoved Heyes towards the door.

*****

“How much d’ya think we got?” asked Kyle as he rode alongside his fellow gang members.

“Enough we won’t have to pull another job this winter. Maybe even enough to go south to Arizona and dodge the snow.” Curry was grinning at the thought of being warm for a change.

“I vote for that!” cried Hank. “What’s the matter, Heyes? You’re awful quiet for someone who’s just stolen a bundle of cash.”

“I can’t help thinking about those folks getting turned out of their homes at Christmas.”

The gang was quiet, each man thinking of his own family and past holidays until the sounds of approaching hoof beats cause them all to turn around and see Wheat galloping flat-out towards them.

“Posse! Posse’s coming!” he cried.

“That dandy Wheat accused of cheating must’ve ratted us out. I swear—Wheat’s Christmas is about to get a whole lot less merry,” said Heyes as he whipped his gelding with his reins. His horse shot forward and the others followed at a dead run.

TBC