With a Prize Inside

By Chelseagirl

“Remind me again why we’re not spendin’ the winter in San Francisco?” Kid Curry looked at Hannibal Heyes, the frown overshadowing his crystal blue eyes making his annoyance clear.  “Pretty women, good food, lots to amuse ourselves with.  Instead, winter in Devil’s Hole, most likely snowed in with the gang.”

“We’ve been through this how many times already, Kid?” responded Heyes, shaking his head. “If I’m gonna keep the leader’s position, now that Big Jim’s out of the picture for awhile, we’ve gotta be on the spot. Otherwise Wheat’s likely to make a bid for it, and you know how that’ll go.”

Curry smiled at the thought. “We’d be sendin’ packages to the whole lot of ‘em at the Wyoming Territorial Prison. Course, we could get some of those San Francisco ladies to help us bake pies with files in ‘em, to send along to the boys.”

Heyes nodded, his lopsided grin matching his partner’s.  “Not a bad idea, at that. And there’s much better poker to be played in San Francisco.”

“Not to mention those soft beds in Silky’s guest rooms. And that newfangled indoor plumbing.”

“True.” But the light in the dark eyes died down. “No. We’d best stick to the plan. It won’t be too bad, will it? We’ve done it before, after all.”

Curry laughed. “That we have, Heyes. I was just dreamin’, I guess.”

“Someday, Kid.  Someday, when we’re the most successful outlaws the West has ever known, we’ll be able to manage better winter quarters. At least, I hope we will.”

“Me, too.”

“Well, these supplies ain’t gonna buy themselves. You hit up the hardware store, and I’ll look into food provisions. Gonna be a long winter ahead.”

“Sounds like a plan.  And I had an idea ‘bout Christmas stockings for each of the men.”

“Christmas stockings? Like children get?” Children who weren’t in orphanages, anyway.

“Why not? We can fill ‘em with nuts, oranges, some hard candy from the General Store. And, of course, a cigar or two each.”

“I like it, Kid,” said Heyes, and the two outlaws went about their business.

&&&

Winter came early in those parts, and by the time Christmas rolled around, the members of the Devil’s Hole Gang were getting restless. 

Christmas morning, Curry and Heyes strolled over from the leader’s cabin they shared to the bunkhouse, where the rest of the men were staying.

“Well, don’t that beat anything?” Lobo was saying.

“Looks like Old Saint Nick found his way to Devil’s Hole after all,” said Wheat.

The outlaws were seated on their bunks, each going through a stocking filled with Christmas treats.

“Lookit!” said Kyle, delightedly. “A pennywhistle! I always done wanted to learn to play one of these!”

Wheat pulled out a small item from his. “Is this one of them special mustache combs? Now that will come in handy!”

Soon the bunks were covered with the nuts, candy, oranges, and of course, cigars.  And each man found a small, special treat, just exactly what he would have wanted.

But in the toe of the stockings, there was one more thing.

“Soap?” said one of the outlaws, in disgust. “You tryin’ to tell us something?”

“Yes,” whispered the Kid into Heyes’ ear. “Maybe we are.”

Their eyes met, amused.

“Thing is,” said Heyes, “I didn’t sleep so well last night, and I met up with Saint Nick on his rounds. Seems this is special soap.  Seems some of ‘em have a prize inside.”

“A prize?” asked Wheat. “What kind of a prize?”

“Well, now,” said Heyes, “Saint Nick didn’t exactly tell me that part. Said it’s for you to find out.”

“Does everybody get a prize?” asked Kyle, wide-eyed.

“Dunno. Saint Nick said some of ‘em, but I haven’t seen inside ‘em or anything.”

“Wonder what it is?” asked Lobo.

“Maybe we’d best get out that old tin bathtub, so we can test ‘em out,” said Wheat. “We can gather some of the snow and melt it over the fire, then take our turns havin’ nice hot baths.”

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” said Kid Curry.

“Didn’t Saint Nick leave you anything?” Kyle asked.

“He did,” said Heyes, “but nothin’ like this.”

“Awww, maybe you weren’t as good as we were.” Wheat looked smug.

A couple of the outlaws were already gathering up snow in various pots and pans and pails.

&&&

“Heyes, you are a genius!” said Kid Curry.

“At least we know they’ll all take at least one bath before spring, this way. Best thing about being leader might just be having this cabin and not spending all winter with the others.”

“True. The way that bunkhouse gets to smelling by spring, it’s just not for the fainthearted.”

Heyes went into his room, and came out again with a package. “This is for you.”

Curry reached underneath the settee, and pulled out one of his own. “And for you. From Saint Nick, of course.”

“Of course.”

Inside Curry’s was a new holster, of finest leather, and a bottle of excellent whiskey.  “Why thank you, Saint Nick.” He got up, found some glasses, and poured a drink each.

They clinked their them together.

“Ain’t you gonna open yours, Heyes?”

“Sure am. Just thought if we did it one at a time, it’d last longer.” And at that, Heyes opened his own package, wrapped in brown paper, but with a shiny red ribbon around it.

Inside was a book. “A Tale of Two Cities,” Heyes read. “Don’t know that one. Looks good, though—‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.’”

“Thought maybe you could read it out loud, in the evenings. Give us something to do.”

“Saint Nick thinks of everything,” Heyes said, and smiled.  “But what are these?” Three cards, just a little larger than playing cards, fell out of the book.

“Got ‘em off a Romany gal who was telling fortunes when we were in Denver, last time.” Curry put his hand out for the cards.  He spread them for Heyes to see. “These three cards, she said were about me and you.  Somethin’ about a change of fortune, a difficult time, and everything turnin’ out okay. I didn’t believe her, so she let me have ‘em.” He smiled. “After we spent some time together, that is.”

The two men looked at each other.

“Maybe she meant me becoming leader, which made things better for you and me both?”

“Could be,” said the Kid. “But she said a real big change of fortune, so who knows?”

Heyes smiled. “Guess we’ll find out. Meanwhile, at least we’ve got a new story to read while we’re snowed in, anyway.”

Curry stared pensively out the window, at the snow-covered landscape.  “Only worry I got is, what’re the boys gonna do when some of ‘em have prizes in the soap, and some of ‘em don’t? You think that’s gonna cause trouble?”

Heyes gave his partner a look. “Not to worry, Kid. The man selling the soaps clearly had a system. Once I figured out what it was, well, it wasn’t too hard to make sure every one was going to be a winner.”

And so they all were.