Dilemmas

By MoulinP

Sheriff Thackeray had a dilemma. He sat at his desk, sighing. He was the sheriff of Burton Wells, Wyoming. On the outside, a perfectly respectable small town. Not the most affluent but not poor either, with a good mix of businesses and commerce. But there was a drawback to living in Burton Wells. Twenty miles away was Devil’s Hole, an area so inhospitable and mountainous, nobody could live there or make a living. Instead, it was home to a notorious gang of outlaws, the most successful in the West, called unimaginatively but geographically correct, The Devil’s Hole Gang.

The Gang was led by Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, a formidable duo, who had overseen some highly complex and daring robberies, garnering them a small fortune. Locked away in the middle of Devil’s Hole they remained uncaught and secure. No lawman could bother them. Several pursuits had ended in failure, several men injured or killed. Not by the outlaws. By the land itself.

Yet the Gang came into Burton Wells. For supplies. To celebrate. To visit the soiled doves. So long as they made no trouble in the town, folks accepted them. Many businesses depended on their custom to stay afloat. Proximity to the gang’s hideout brought a certain notoriety. Visitors to the town came hoping for a glimpse of the outlaws, generating much needed revenue. A down side too of course. Drove away jobs and richer folks. Those left behind got on with their lives as best as they could, many resigned to it. Some disapproved of the outlaws, others tolerated them and a few welcomed them. As sheriff, Thackeray should arrest them. After all, he was elected to keep the law.

The Gang could be noisy and boisterous at times. Yet one or other of the joint leaders would calm them down. Usually that was Kid Curry. Blue-eyed, with blond curly hair, his pleasant looks belied the deadliness of his skill with a gun. The legendary fast gun would stand arms folded and tell them in no uncertain terms, enough was enough. Always grumbling, yet inevitably they complied either going to sleep it off or riding out. Only once had Thackeray witnessed the fast draw that gave the man his reputation. One second the gun was in its holster, the next in the hand of Kid Curry, pointing at the recalcitrant gang member. That was enough. No need to fire, no need to cause injury. Just enough to make the point.

The other leader, Hannibal Heyes, was a different prospect altogether. Darker and quieter he rarely joined in with the Gang’s high spirits. He was there on occasion but he would watch thoughtfully, sipping his beer slowly. There was a menace about him, an air of authority. He was a man used to the respect of his men. It was obvious that the Gang deferred to him, even the Kid at times. Thackeray had seen it. When Heyes had enough, he stood up slowly. The Gang would watch him closely. Sometimes he would just leave them to it, but never alone. The Kid always stayed. Other times Heyes would quietly tell them it was time. Lots of grumbling and dragging of feet but they would go.

The Gang were in the main courteous to the residents of the town. Always paid for their supplies. Never took them at gunpoint. Only on the odd occasion had Thackeray cause to lock up one of the Gang for a misdemeanour. If he thought about it, all the members of the Gang had been in his jail at one time or another. Even Kid Curry once. Heyes had not been best pleased, taking the Kid to task through the bars of the cell in a low menacing voice that had the gunman, blushing with embarrassment. When Heyes had turned to him, Thackeray knew with certainty, he would never be able to arrest him.

“How long you planning on keeping them, Sheriff?” The question, said in a lazy way. The man unconcerned that as a notorious outlaw in jail, a competent lawman would easily get the drop on him. Instead, said notorious outlaw occupied himself pulling on his gloves.

“’Till they sober up,” Thackeray replied. “Let ‘em out in the morning.”

Heyes had nodded, with a tight-lipped smile. “See that you do, Sheriff.” He touched the brim of his hat politely and swept out. Thackeray was left in no doubt that if the outlaws weren’t released in the morning, Heyes would be back. And if so, he wouldn’t be polite.

A truce then. No serious lawbreaking in town and no arresting. An unspoken agreement. One that he and Heyes had. They nodded politely when they saw each other.

Now Thackeray had a problem and to his consternation the only man who could help him was Hannibal Heyes. That man had ridden into town, half an hour ago. He and the Gang, pulled up in front of the saloon. Thackeray had to go over there and speak to him. He was a mite nervous. No more than a mite, extremely.

Pushing back from his desk, Thackeray stood up. With a sigh, he reached for his hat and walked stiffly out.

As he entered the saloon, the outlaw gang continued their revelry. Heyes joined in. Laughing and joking with his men, alternatively sipping whiskey and beer. Something particularly funny had Heyes snorting into his beer. A hand over his mouth wiped the foamy moustache from his upper lip as he choked. No one else but Kid Curry would dare to pound him on the back.

Thackeray took a deep breath and walked over. It was a measure of how comfortable the Gang felt that the two leaders had their backs to the door. Thackeray swallowed as he came up beside Heyes.

“Excuse me. Mr Heyes?” Always paid to be polite.

“Yeah?” Heyes looked up still smiling. When he realised who it was his face became more serious. “Sheriff. Are we causing a problem?”

“No. No. I er … when you can spare the time, Mr Heyes, I’d like a word with you over at the jail.”

“Yeah, I bet yous would,” grinned Kyle, chewing furiously. “Don’t go Heyes. It’ll be a trap.” The Gang dissolved into laughter.

Heyes smiled at them indulgently and then turned back to the sheriff. Thackeray noted how the right hand stayed casually inches from his gun. Beside him, the Kid had taken a similar stance. Probably the other Gang members as well.

“Sounds serious, sheriff?”

Thackeray swallowed and cleared his throat.

“It is but I can assure you it is nothing to do with you. Or your companions.” He waved his hand at the circle around the table. “Not directly anyways.”

Heyes frowned slightly. “Sounds intriguing sheriff. Care to enlighten me a little?”

Thackeray looked around. All the other customers in the saloon had quietened and watched the interaction closely.

“Not here in public. It’s a delicate situation. Be best if we could have a conversation in private.”

Heyes smacked his lips. “Well now sheriff I can’t deny you’ve got me right curious.” He paused. “But you see, going over to the jail … well it’s not my favourite place to spend any time if you take my meaning. We could talk over there, if you like?” He pointed a gloved finger to a quieter table in the corner.

Thackeray looked round and considered. He thought it might have been a stretch to get Hannibal Heyes to come to the jail willingly. The table was secluded, a screen round two sides of it and a wall at the back. If the occupants of the alcove sat with their backs to the wall, there was clear sight of the door. Thackeray nodded. “I guess.”

“Very well sheriff, go get yourself a drink.” He paused. “You look like you need one.” Heyes smiled pleasantly. “An’ I’ll join you in a while. How’s that?”

Thackeray nodded. “Thanks.”

Heyes nodded. “Okay.” He started to turn back and stopped. “Unless of course you’d rather join us?” Heyes smiled at the look he received. “No, I guess not.” Now he did turn away. Conversation closed.

“What d’ya reckon he wants?” the Kid asked, in a low growl, watching Thackeray walk to the bar.

Heyes rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I’ll find out in a while.” He sipped his beer. “Sure is strange though. Can’t recall him ever initiating a conversation with me afore.”

“Mebbe he don’t know who you is,” laughed Kyle.

Heyes gave him the look but with a considering edge to it. “Oh, he knows Kyle. He knows exactly who I am.”

“Sure was polite,” grinned Lobo.

“Yep,” Heyes nodded. “Nothing wrong in being polite, Lobo. ‘Specially …” He looked thoughtfully towards Thackeray at the bar. “’Specially if you want something.” He frowned, his lips forming a tight line.

“What ya thinking Heyes?” the Kid asked in concern. “Ya think he’s fixing to run us outta town?”

Heyes laughed at the thought. “Naw, he’s not man enough for that. Nope. He wants something and I reckon I must be the only person who can help him. Took a lot of guts to come over just now.”

He saw Thackeray coming back and got up. “Best go find out what he wants.”

The Kid slapped him on the back. “Got ya back partner. Any sign of trouble, jus’ give me the signal.”

Heyes looked back and nodded. “Just keep this lot in line while I talk to the sheriff, will you?” Heyes finger combed his hair back and then put his black hat on as he waited for the sheriff to join him.

“After you sheriff,” he said, gesturing to the alcove, with his beer.

The two men took their seats, putting their hats on the table in front of them.

“What’s this all about sheriff?” Heyes asked casually, pulling each finger of his gloves before stripping them off. He tucked them into the pocket of his waistcoat before Thackeray answered.

Thackeray studied the man beside him. The reputation and the reality did not correspond. On the face of it, he saw a young, handsome, mild featured man. True, he needed a shave and his clothes were dusty. Yet he didn’t look like an outlaw with a fearsome reputation. A bath, a shave and a clean set of clothes and nobody would look twice at him. Well. The ladies might.

Heyes smacked his lips, reading the sheriff’s thoughts. He hardened his features.

“Sheriff?” His voice was lower.

Thackeray started and looked away, guilty. He swallowed hard.

“Ever heard of Jasper Hennessey?”

“Nope.” Heyes raised his beer to his lips. “Should I?”

Thackeray considered. “No, I don’t suppose you should. He’s a … was a rancher other side of Rawlins. Murdered last week.”

“Oh. Right sorry to hear that.”

“Sheriff Johnson in Rawlins got a lead on who done it.”

“Uh-huh, that’s good.”

“Yes, it is,” Thackeray agreed. “Fella by the name of Jack Reed. Done some killings down in Colorado as well. You ever hear of him?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Nasty piece of work.”

“Yep. That’s why there’s a $10,000 reward for his capture.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Heyes said, sipping his beer.

“Sure is. Last seen headed this way. Perhaps looking to hide out in Devil’s Hole.”

Now Heyes understood. “Ah! Looking to make a name for yourself, sheriff?”

Thackeray sighed. “Not exactly. But I am figuring to get myself re-elected come November.”

Heyes smirked and raised the glass to his lips again. “I wish you good luck with that.”

Thackeray paused. He took a deep breath. Now he came to the heart of the matter.

“Now that could be of concern to you and your boys,” he said, slowly, watching Heyes’ profile carefully.

“How so?” Heyes was firm.

“Somebody else as sheriff may not be so understanding. Of you and your men.”

Heyes sniffed a deep breath. His mouth firm. “That’s true. That’s very true,” he nodded, slowly.

“So, I was wondering if Jack Reed does turn up in Devil’s Hole--”

“I don’t allow killers in Devil’s Hole, sheriff,” Heyes said, sharply. “That’s a well-known fact.”

Thackeray nodded. “I’ve heard that. All credit to you.”

Heyes grinned at him, dimples in evidence. “Why thanks sheriff. That means a lot.” He couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Thackeray looked embarrassed. This wasn’t going to plan. He took a deep breath, determined to press on.

“He might be calling himself by a different name.”

“Yep. He might at that.” Heyes paused and looked at Thackeray full on. It was the first time he had done so and the sheriff went cold. He didn’t like what he saw. “Look sheriff what exactly are you asking me?”

The man’s stare was all intimidation. Thackeray suddenly believed the fearsome reputation and didn’t want to be on the sharp end of it.

“You asking me to let you know if Jack Reed turns up at the Hole?” Heyes widened his eyes.

Thackeray nodded.

Heyes shrugged. “I can. Nobody comes in and or comes out. Unless it’s on my say so.”

Thackeray swallowed hard. Heyes hadn’t finished.

“Of course. Like I say, I don’t allow killers in Devil’s Hole so if he turns up, then I’ll be asking him to leave. If he won’t go peaceable then he’ll be persuaded.” Heyes licked his lips, deliberately slowly.

“Then as soon as he’s out--”

“But that’s the point sheriff you won’t know when he’s out. Unless--” Heyes drained his glass.

“Somebody was to tip me off. Maybe even bring him in.” Thackeray interrupted, swallowing hard. There he’d said it.

Heyes rolled his eyes and inspected the bottom of his now empty glass. “That’s an awful lot of co-operating you’re asking of me sheriff. I could get a reputation that I don’t want. If it got round that I was helping the law.” He paused and then looked round slowly at the sheriff. “D’you see my dilemma?”

Thackeray swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.”

Heyes reached for his gloves and pulled them on. He sighed. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, sheriff. I don’t like killers. And certainly not cold-hearted murdering bastards like Jack Reed. If he turns up, I’ll get word to you. I’ll also tell you how I plan to deal with the situation. How’s that?”

Thackeray nodded furiously. “Thank you.”

Heyes got up and sidestepped around the table. “Don’t thank me yet sheriff. If this works out, you’ll owe me.” He grinned. “I’m not sure you’re gonna like being in my debt. And as for November, well that’s the first thing you’d better see to – winning re-election.”

Heyes walked away back to the Gang.

Thackeray sighed in relief now the conversation was over. He felt like he’d done a deal with the Devil himself, rather than just the current tenant of Devil’s Hole. Thackeray wondered if he would regret his decision asking Hannibal Heyes for help.