December 1877

By InsideOutlaw

“Good thing we shook that posse so fast,” said Hank reaching for another piece of hardtack. He dipped it into his coffee and waited for it to soften before gnawing off a bite. A small fire provided a weak light that illuminated the cave where he and his fellow gang members had taken shelter.

“Yeah, lucky for us Heyes knew about this here cave. Ain’t that right, Wheat?” Kyle lifted the coffee pot off the flames and topped up his tin mug. Satisfied, he glanced in the direction where his two leaders were deep in conversation. “I wonder what they’re talkin’ about.”

“Probably what the Kid’s gonna do to Wheat when we get back to the Hole,” chortled Hank.

“That ain’t funny!” Wheat threw the dregs of his coffee into the flames and scowled as it sizzled away and sent up a plume of smoke. “We’d better get paid good for this one. I left a small fortune on that poker table.”

“Small is right.” Kyle nudged Hank with his elbow.

*****

“I’m done, Kid. I want him out!” Heyes was furious. Wheat had endangered the whole plan and it had only been a matter of luck that it had been successful. Heyes never relied on luck.

“Don’t be hasty. Wheat has his uses.”

“It doesn't matter anymore. He spends half his time screwing up and the other half trying to show me up. I’m cutting him loose the minute we get back.”

“That’ll make you no better than Gibson.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. That lousy banker is turnin’ folks out right before Christmas and you would be too. We both know the gang’s the only family Wheat has. Where’s he gonna go?”

“What happened to him answering to you?!”

The Kid scowled back at his angry partner. “He’ll answer but I’m gonna decide how and it doesn’t include casting him out.”

“Well, I say he goes.”

“And I say he doesn’t.”

Heyes hands fisted at his sides. “Don’t cross me, Kid.”

“I ain’t crossing you, I’m disagreein’. You’re just too upset to see the difference.” Shaking his head, Curry put his hand onto Heyes’ shoulder. “Let’s set this aside until you have a chance to cool off.” He felt his

partner’s muscles relax. “C’mon. Let’s get some of that coffee before it’s all gone. It’s gonna be dawn soon and we need to be ready to ride.”

*****

It was late afternoon when the gang came across an overturned wagon. Its two-mule team stood tied to a nearby tree. A small woman in a mud-splattered coat and a calico dress waved to them to come closer. Two children, a boy of about six years old and a girl no more than three, clung to her skirt. From under the wagon, two trousered legs stuck out. A moment later, a man slid out and sat up, wiping his hands with a filthy bandana.

“Please help us. We need our wagon righted and we can’t do it ourselves,” begged the woman walking towards them. “It overturned. All our belongings fell out. It’s just a mess.” Tears streaked her face and the children buried their faces in her skirt, hiding from the strangers.

Heyes and the Kid glanced at each other and dismounted, passing their reins to Kyle. “Wait here and we’ll see what they need,” instructed Heyes.

“Ma’am.” The Kid lifted his Stetson politely and smiled down at the children. “Are you two helpin’ your ma?”

The little boy looked up at both men and smiled. “I’m six!”

Heyes laughed and squatted down. “You’re kinda big for six, aren’t you?”

“Me and Pa can’t turn the wagon over. Can you?”

Gesturing to his men to join them, the Kid replied, “I reckon we can get you back on the road.”

The woman wiped her face with her hand and sniffled, “Thank you. I’m Melba Branch and that’s my husband, Clete. I’m so glad you came along.”

*****

“Alright, at the count of three…one, two, three!” Groans and growls erupted as the wagon slowly lifted up and righted itself onto four wheels with a loud crash. The bed bounced wildly for a moment and then settled as the six men cheered.

“Oh, thank goodness,” cried Melba holding a framed photograph. She carefully placed it on the seat of the wagon.

“Let us help you load up your things, ma’am,” offered Wheat.

Heyes looked at him. “Good idea. You three get that furniture. We’ll get the trunk.” He and the Kid started towards a large steamer trunk that had sprung open and strewn its contents across the road. Melba hurried ahead of them and quickly snatched up several items as Clete chuckled.

“Modesty won’t get this wagon full, Melba,” he called out before turning to the two men next to him. “I can’t thank you enough. This has been the worst day of a terrible month.”

“Sorry to hear that.” The Kid went to help Melba and the children while Heyes stood with Clete.

“We’ve lost our farm and it’s my fault. I got a loan to help make ends meet, but they didn’t. There was next to nothing to harvest this year and I couldn’t make the payments on time. Mr. Gibson, he’s our banker, wouldn’t give me an extension.” He shook his head ruefully. “Turns out he wanted my land more than he wanted his money. Rumor has it, the town’s planning to annex the surrounding farms and he’s buying up or taking what he can get his greedy hands on.”

“Louis Gibson, out Buford way?”

“Yessir. You know him?”

“We’ve heard of him,” answered Heyes. He remembered the documents in the man’s safe.

“He evicted us. We’re not the only ones. The Nelsons left last week and the Andersons before that. It’s only going to get worse, too. Gibson got cleaned out in a robbery the other day and I hear he’s desperate for money. He’ll be foreclosing on everything he can and selling folks’ ranches for next to nothing now.” Clete shook his head, sadly. “We put my heart and soul into that place.”

“Where’re you headed next?”

“We’re going to Grayfield. Melba’s brother has a place there and we’re hoping he can take us in until we get on our feet or at least through the holidays. What about you?”

Heyes stared down the road for a moment before answering. “Actually, we’re going to Buford.”

*****

“We’re what?!” sputtered Wheat. “Of all the hare-brained, addle-pated…”

Cold blue eyes drilled into the big outlaw. “Wheat.”

“I don’t like it. Why are we going back to Buford? What if that card sharp’s still there? He got a good look at us, Heyes.”

“You said he cheated. He’s probably long gone and I have a plan.”

“Care to share it, Heyes?” The Kid was curious, too. He’d seen the wheels turning in his partner’s head and knew something was up and he wasn’t sure he was going to like it either.

“Not yet, I’m still working on the details but I know I’m going to need the loot.”

“What?!”

“Wheat.”

“I wanna help,” said Kyle. “I still remember my folks losin’ their sharecrop. It was the worst winter. My baby sister died of the croup ‘cause we had to live rough through the rainy months. My ma was never the same after that.”

“My Pa was a farmer. There’s always hard times when you farm. That’s what a Savings and Loan is there for—hard times. Not to take your land. I reckon I can help, too,” offered Hank.

The Kid smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

Heyes said nothing. He was too busy scheming.

*****

Buford was quiet. The sun was down and the streets were mostly deserted, the stores closed. The only building illuminated was the Savings and Loan. Louis Gibson was working late. Heyes had figured he would be having lost all his capital in a robbery earlier this week.

Straightening his tie, and tugging his shirtsleeves from under his best suit, Heyes started across the street. The Kid watched from the alleyway. The rest of the gang was having dinner at the hotel as no trouble was expected with this part of the plan.

Stepping up onto the boardwalk, Heyes crossed to the front door and rapped on it. He waited patiently until the shade went up. Gibson was a thin man with a bad combover and an impatient scowl. His shirt collar was open and his eyes were strained. He was obviously stressed. Right where Heyes wanted him.

“Mr. Gibson?” said Heyes through the pane.

“We’re closed.”

“I was hoping to speak with you.”

“Come back tomorrow.” Gibson started to pull down the shade but paused when he saw Heyes pull out an obviously expensive silver pocket watch. “What’s your business?”

“Real estate, sir. I’m here with a proposal for you. A very lucrative proposal.”

“I’m not buying right now,” snapped Gibson, starting to turn away.

“I’m not selling.”

Gibson turned back, considering. Heyes heard the click of the lockset opening before the door swung inwards.

“Well, come in then and have a seat by the fire. I’m happy to hear you out. I’m Louis Gibson and you are…?”

“Henry Wilson, sir, at your pleasure.”

Gibson led Heyes into his office and offered him a comfortable chair by the crackling woodstove. Sitting down, Heyes crossed his legs, the picture of confidence. Gibson sat down behind his deck, shuffling documents off to one side. Foreclosure documents. Heyes could read the upside-down titles.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Wilson?”

“Let me get right to the point, Mr. Gibson. I am aware of the unfortunate incident that occurred here earlier this week and I’m hoping I might be of assistance to you.”

Gibson visibly bristled and leaned back in his chair lifting two legs off the ground. “Harumph, I don’t see where that is any of your business, sir.”

“Hear me out. It very well could be my business. You see, I’ve recently inherited a significant amount of money from my late uncle.”

At this declaration, the chair legs hit the floor with a thud and Gibson leaned forward. “What do you have in mind?”

“I am sure you can appreciate, sir, that an inheritance such as mine requires some shrewd management on my part. Therefore, I am interested in investing. In the future of Buford, specifically. It is my understanding that the town of Buford is planning to increase in size and that you happen to be in possession of several key properties. And, also in need of, shall we say, monetary assistance.”

A gleam appeared in Gibson’s eyes. “I see. You are amazingly well-informed, young man. The properties you are interested in are certainly prime. I would have to ask top dollar for them.”

Heyes knew he had him but kept a neutral expression. He waited a moment, then nodded. “Understandable, good sir. Name your price and we’ll see if we can come to an agreement.”

*****

Heyes was smiling as the Savings and Loan door shut behind him. He patted his chest and walked down the sidewalk until he reached the mouth of the alley. He glanced around and ducked into the darkness.

“Well, how’d it go?” The Kid pushed off the wall, read his partner’s expression, and smiled. “That good, huh?”

“Yep. Good old Louis drove a hard bargain.” Heyes pulled out a sheaf of documents tied with a red ribbon. “Got them all. Paid and signed over to me.”

“To Henry Wilson, you mean.”

“True, but Gibson will never figure out which Henry Wilson. There’s got to be a million of ‘em.” Heyes laughed. “I had to give him most of the cash to get them.”

“Most of it?”

“Well, he couldn’t leave a gentleman destitute, now could he? Here, help me get out of these clothes. We don’t have much time.”

*****

Heyes and the Kid stood in the alleyway waiting for Louis Gibson to close up for the night. Wheat and Kyle were stationed at either end of the alley. Their bellies full of the steak dinners they’d enjoyed at the hotel.

Gibson appeared a few minutes later, closed and locked the front door of the bank, and walked away, whistling. After a wait, Heyes picked the lock on the back door. With the combination of the safe still stored safely in his memory, he and the Kid were in and out in a matter of minutes.

Hank came around the corner leading the horses and the five men mounted and sedately left town. No one had noticed them.

*****

A knock at the cabin door interrupted dinner. Clete Branch called out to his brother who was in the next room, “I’ll get it.” He pushed back his chair and strode to the door, swinging it open. A young man stood there looking uncertain.

“Cletus Branch?” asked the young man.

“Yes?”

“Special delivery for you.” The youth held out a thick envelope.

Taking it, Clete asked, “From who? There’s no return address.”

“Don’t know. I’m just paid to deliver it.” Clete fished a few coins from his pocket for the boy and closed the door.

“Who is it, Clete?” Melba stood up, worried.

“It’s a letter. For us.” Clete tore open the envelope and pulled out several pages. As he read, his hands started to shake and his eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Are you going to share your news?” asked his brother, returning from the other room.

“I…yes…I,” he coughed. “Melba, honey, the ranch is ours! It’s ours. It says so right here! Free and clear!!”

Melba snatched the papers from his hands, reading aloud. “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Cletus Branch,

Enclosed are the signed, paid, and notarized mortgage documents for your farm stating it is owned free and clear with the title in your name. All I require is that you return to Buford and reclaim what is rightfully yours. Your neighbors will be reclaiming their properties as well.

We wish you a very Merry Christmas,

Santa…er, it says…Santa Claus and his elves.” She choked on the last words and started to cry, flinging herself into her husband’s arms.

*****

“Twenty-four thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine, twenty-five thousand. Yep, it’s all here plus the thousand I held back. That’s more than we pulled in the first time we robbed Mr. Louis Gibson. He must’ve scraped together some cash of his own.” Heyes chuckled and leaned back as his gang looked on avariciously.

“What’re we gonna do with the money, Heyes?” Kyle was grinning, thoughts of saloon girls dancing in his head.

Hank, Wheat, Preacher, Lobo, and the rest of the gang all spoke at once offering up their suggestions for a celebration.

The Kid laughed. “I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna have us a real Merry Christmas, just like the folks in Buford!”

Heyes stood up and tossed some of the money into the air. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!”