Invitation to a Future

By Nell McKeon

Hannibal Heyes believes a fast draw contest is an invitation for a better future for Kid Curry. The Kid is of a different opinion.

"Invitation to a Future" has its genesis from an old challenge fictlet (2011) for the prompt "Invitation." I always planned to expand it into a full-fledged story, it's just taken me a decade to finally do so.

This is a Term's universe story. It can be read as a standalone, but it has "Terms" as it's backstory. "Invitation to a Future" is the third story in the Terms timeline after "Terms" and "A Friend in Need".

Many chapters have short notes at the end. They are mostly trivia regarding if this or that was feasible, available, or known in the late 1880s America. If you're interested in little bits of random information you can read them otherwise feel free to skip the notes.

Chapter 1

Five days of hard riding. Five days of only sleeping in the dead of night, in two-hour shifts, when man and horse were utterly exhausted. Five days of nothing passing their lips but jerky, hardtack, and tepid water in the saddle, on the run. And for what, nothing! That's what. Fifty thousand dollars sitting in a locked safe at the bottom of a lake outside of Columbine, Colorado doing nobody any good.

Hannibal Heyes couldn't turn his mind off as he lay on the hard ground trying to rest at least his body. He could hear the creak of leather and the movement of the horses as his partner prepared to get moving again. He rolled over and cracked open his bloodshot eyes, squinting as the first rays of a brilliant rising sun struck him full in the face. Kid was leaning his forehead against his mare's dark flank, motionless.

Heyes cleared the gravel out of his throat and quietly asked, "Kid, are you alright?"

Curry startled and he immediately shoved his right hand into his sheepskin's pocket. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you lookin' at that flyer again?" The leader of the Devil's Hole Gang inquired in exasperation as he efficiently cleared the campsite of any signs of human habitation.

Kid tightened his cinch with a yank and mounted his horse. His face bore an expression halfway between sheepish guilt and stubborn and he didn't bother to answer.

"Just toss the thing, bury it! I told you, it's for chicken thieves, penny-pinchers and rag stealers. For us, it's a pipe dream, like the governor would even think of amnesty for the two of us. The banks and railroads would make sure he never held public office again." Heyes mounted his chestnut gelding. "Come on, we'll circle north and head into Devil's Hole that way."

"Heyes, maybe it's an invitation to a future. We'll never know if we don't at least try. All I'm asking is for a chance we never had before. If you put your mind to it, you can think of a way to make this work." Curry leveled dead-serious blue eyes straight at his partner's brown, trust and earnestness infusing worry lines and straightening an exhausted slump with hope. "We have some ways 'til we reach Dead Line Point. Just think on it, okay?"

Heyes looked back at the youthful face and knew neither one of them wanted to see the other from between iron bars or at the bottom of a six-foot hole and that was where their lives were heading, probably before they were both thirty years old, unless…, "Okay, Kid, let me see if I can come with a workable plan."

"Thanks, partner."

**********ASJ**********

Four Years Later

"No, Heyes, just no!" Kid Curry crumpled the newspaper announcement into a small ball and tossed it effortlessly into the garbage pail across the room. Ignoring the disgusted look from his partner and the startled glance of their employee, Kevin O'Reilly, he stalked across the office into the reception area and over to the office coat rack. The Kid then shoved his arms into his buckskin jacket while barely suppressing a wince. He jammed his hat on his head, flattening the unruly curls, and turned to their attractive brunette secretary.

"You have Harry's and my itinerary. Harry will be back in a week, I'll be back in two. I'll check the telegraph offices regularly in case someone needs to get in touch with us."

"Okay, Mr. Curry. You and Mr. Briscoe have a good trip and be careful."

"Thanks, Julia, we will. Bye." Kid left the office without a backward glance.

"Julia?"

"Yes, Mr. Heyes?"

Heyes sighed. No matter how many times he has asked and ordered her to call him just Heyes, Julia stubbornly insisted on the protocol of Mr. Heyes in the office. She was too pretty and efficient to fire so he finally took his partner's approach and let her be. "Do we have a copy of last Sunday's Rocky1?"

"We should have. Let me check the newspaper files. Do you need the entire edition or a specific section or article?"

"What I'm lookin' for is in the main section. If you could please bring me that, I'd appreciate it."

Several moments later the organized secretary brought the requested newspaper to her dark-haired employer, who was sitting, staring at his partner's cluttered desk.

"Now that Mr. Curry has left for a while do you want me to tackle his desk?" Julia asked, gesturing at the messy workspace. "Since he's been spending more time in the office lately, with him recovering after being shot in the arm, I haven't been able to straighten up after him."

Heyes was about to reply in the affirmative but the sudden image of an uncluttered and vacant desk from less than a year ago when his partner was still an immate flashed through his mind. He preferred the evidence of the Kid the clutter provided.

"No, just leave the desk as it is, but thanks anyway. I'll return the paper to you when I'm finished."

Julia handed the Rocky Mountain News to Heyes and returned to her own tidy workspace. Soon the rhythmic clatter of typewriter keys was heard throughout the office.

Heyes laid the paper on his desk and rapidly turned the pages, looking for the full two-page announcement he had cut out earlier from his personal copy; the announcement that he and his mulish partner had been arguing over for the last several days.

"Found it!"

Kevin O'Reilly, the newest detective of the "Heyes and Curry Agency", looked up from his own small, neat desk at the boss' whispered exclamation.

"Found what?" O'Reilly asked.

"Huh?" Heyes didn't realize he had spoken aloud.

"What did you find? Does it pertain to a case?"

"Did you read last Sunday's Rocky?"

"Yeah." O'Reilly had quickly learned that Heyes and Curry valued informed employees and that a considerable amount of potentially useful information could be gleaned by reading the current newspapers. Consequently, he read his now hometown paper, The Rocky Mountain News and the major city paper subscriptions that were sent to the agency.

"Did you notice the announcement of the "First Annual National Marksmen Competition" being held as part of the "Great Western Fair and Festival" at the end of the summer in St. Louis? It says they picked Saint Louis because it's the Gateway to the West and easily accessible from the major eastern cities."

"I sure did. You couldn't miss it. The announcement was two full pages. It sure looks like it's gonna be a packed two weeks." O'Reilly rose to his feet and ambled over to look over Heyes' shoulder and pointed to the bold black type. "See, it says here the best in the West are invited to participate in games, contests, competitions and exhibitions of the western lifestyle for the enjoyment and education of the entire nation."

Heyes nodded as his finger scanned down the list of the shooting contests that comprised the marksmen competition. He noted most of the major firearms and ammunition companies were sponsoring one or more particular events in the rifle, shotgun, and handgun categories. His finger rested on the Colt Manufacturing Company, joint sponsor, along with Smith and Wesson, of the handgun events.

O'Reilly gasped and his head snapped around to the office door and back to Heyes, who was calmly cutting out the 'First Annual National Marksmen Competition" entry blank. He tentatively inquired, "Are you thinking of entering an event, Heyes?"

Heyes twisted in his chair to look behind him. Brown eyes met green and his voice held a hint of amusement, "I know there are a whole lot of events to enter, and I'll admit I'm tempted to enter some of the riding contests, since I bet I've done more fast riding in my lifetime, under worse conditions than most. But I'll restrain myself and what I couldn't resist, I don't see. There don't seem to be any safe-cracking contests to check on any of these entry blanks, unless I missed something? No, I'm not entering anything but the high stakes unofficial poker games that I'm sure will be going on."

"No, but…" O'Reilly came around the desk and plopped himself in Kid Curry's chair.

"But what?"

"But you ain't writin' Kid Curry on that entry blank, are you? I mean, if this is what that no meant from Kid before he left, he sounded kinda definite."

"Nope, I'm not writing Kid Curry, I'm writing Jedediah Curry. I'd truly like to be a fly on the wall when the organizers realize Jedediah Curry is Kid Curry. The fast draw is a given. It's the premier handgun event and the winner not only gets a substantial money prize but gets to work with his gun manufacturing company's development team to design a signature edition model. Do you think I should enter him in the Standard Pistol Target Match as well? Yeah, I think I will." Heyes stopped writing and looked across at the shocked junior detective. "What?"

"Heyes, don't take this the wrong way but don't get me involved. I think you need to talk with your partner before you enter him in any national contests." O'Reilly shook his head slowly and rubbed the ginger stubble on his chin. "It seems to me he tries not to draw attention to his shooting. In fact, he's told me you don't like him to draw."

"Glad to hear it, after all those years of pounding caution into his thick skull, it finally stuck."

Heyes put down his pen, all traces of good humor disappearing. His steady gaze hardened and his voice deepened as he folded his arms on the desktop and leaned slightly forward. "Kev, I know one of the conditions the Kid insisted upon if you worked for us is that you never talk about what went on in that damn Wyoming Territorial Prison."

Kevin O'Reilly sat up a little straighter in the chair and his mind became more alert to his employer's nuances. He liked his new job, his family had just settled down in their new home and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his future with the "Heyes and Curry Agency, Investigations and Security, Best in the West". "I haven't Heyes, not to anyone."

"I know you haven't, including me, no matter how hard I've tried to get information out of you in the past. So, I know I can trust you to keep quiet if I tell you a few things to help you understand the Kid."

Heyes reached across the desks and plucked a small paper book from the corner of Curry's desk. He held up the dime novel that he and the Kid had autographed for a client's son and relaxed back into his own chair and his face softened slightly. "Before the dime novels, before the Devil's Hole Gang, Kid was really just a kid when his reputation as a fast gun started; he wasn't even shaving yet and we were only dabbling in theft, mostly to survive. At first, he was known as a young gun to beat, but no one ever did. He wasn't out for the reputation per se only as it could serve to protect us. Then he was the top – "The Fastest Gun in the West". For more than ten years he's been a target, always having to look over his shoulder, hardly ever willingly having his six-gun more than an arm's length away. He's learned to live with knowing that each day could be his last. There's no amnesty or pardon to fix that."

The red-headed young man gestured to the book in Heyes' hand. "But being a member of the Devil's Hole Gang, an outlaw, with his reputation, there couldn't have been too many men who challenged him."

Heyes sighed and tossed the dime novel back on the desk. "You'd be surprised, but in part you're right. The gang did provide some security and a reputation works two ways. It can set you up as a target and it can also act as a powerful deterrent. On jobs we certainly relied on the gang's, the Kid's, and my reputations to keep everyone cooperating and relatively safe. It's one of the reasons we announced who we were."

The dark-haired ex-outlaw detective leaned back and studied the large gold lettering on the office front window. He continued the explanation, "You know, the run for amnesty was Kid's idea. He had gotten a flyer regarding the amnesty program from a little old lady from Boston, believe it or not while we were robbing a train, and saw a way out of a life he no longer believed in. I remember he asked me what amnesty meant and I told him that it was for chicken thieves, penny-pinching pick-pockets, and petty criminals, not us."

"What changed your mind?"

"Kid did. We were chased hard by a very determined, very large, and very competent posse for five days until we finally lost them. And every time when we were able to stop and Kid thought I wasn't lookin' he pulled that crumpled flyer out his pocket and stared at it." Heyes closed his eyes as an image formed in his mind.

"I told him to toss it, bury it, forget about the damn flyer; it was nothing but a pipe dream. He said it was an invitation for a future. I'm the one known for the silver tongue but every now and then my partner's turns platinum."

"So, you decided to try for it?"

"I decided to have a friend check it out and see if it was a legitimate offer. I owed Kid a future and I wanted one too. I might have been more of a stickler for getting amnesty but it was Kid who wanted it first."

"But he didn't get amnesty, you did," O'Reilly pointed out. "If he wanted it so bad why did he surrender to the law?"

"For me," Heyes simply stated. The young detective looked confused.

"We both wanted amnesty but I was less willing to risk it. Kid wanted it as bad as I did but it wasn't always his first thought. As stubborn and impulsive as he can be, if he thought something needed to be done, the amnesty wasn't always considered. That was my job, to look out for both of our long term futures. I hadn't done a great job up to then but I was damn sure gonna do it right this time."

"Over two years later, still poor, chased by posses, bounty hunters and the law, it was getting' harder to keep the faith."

"He gave up then," O'Reilly interjected then gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Although, he doesn't seem like the givin' up type."

"Kid's not. He didn't give up, but his reputation kept rearin' its ugly head. He always thought he was the one causing the Governor to think twice and to drag out giving it to us, saying it wasn't politically expedient at that time. Apparently, there was some truth to that."

"So, what happened? Oh wait, I think I remember talk going 'round about Kid Curry getting into some gunfight and killing a couple of men shortly before he arrived at the prison. Was that why? Was it some deal to avoid hanging for murder?"

Heyes sat straight up, leaned forward, and pierced Kevin O'Reilly with a sharp stare. "Kid Curry never murdered anyone, ever. There's a difference between murder and killing in self-defense." He settled back in the chair and his gaze probed as he asked curiously, "If you thought that, why are you here? I didn't have you down as the type to work for a murderer, never mind what you did for him in that hell hole of a prison."

Kevin turned red as he averted his eyes and focused on the items cluttering Kid Curry's desk. "I never said he was a cold-blooded murderer; I know he's not. But in a gunfight who knows what will be the aftermath. What did happen?"

"It was in a small town, Impasse Mountain, we ran into a gang from our past, one with a leader who fancied himself a fast gun and members who had no scruples. Honor among thieves is a myth. Kid was in an impossible situation; they knew us on sight, and he was forced into facing Two Gun George, the leader of the gang. There was George, who did have two guns, one for each hand, and five others. I backed Kid up as always, but seven guns to two are bad odds. His first shots had to be to kill; there just wasn't time for fancy shootin'. Of their gang, two men died, their leader and their main gunnie, and four were wounded. I took a bullet in my side and it laid me low for a while." Heyes' voiced showed signs of strain as he remembered that summer. O'Reilly rose from Curry's chair and retrieved a bottle of whiskey that was kept in a drawer. He poured a small glass and handed it to Heyes.

Heyes took a tiny sip and placed the glass next to the announcement, his eyes once more reading the half-completed entry blank.

"It was then that he couldn't ignore the fear anymore, the fear that his reputation could cost me my life. He accepted or at least learned to live with his fate a long time ago. But he thought that we might not live to get the promised amnesty and even if it came through the very next day, there was no amnesty for the "Fastest Gun in the West". That reputation didn't have anything to do with wanted posters or rewards. He didn't want to cost me my future so he made a new deal with the governor and surrendered in return for my immediate amnesty."

"It seems as if you two know each other so well, didn't you have an idea of what he was planning?"

"Nope, it was one of the few times he caught me completely by surprise. Believe me, I wish I had 'cause even though we're both free men now those sixteen months in prison changed Kid in ways that weren't worth it. I sometimes think I'd rather be dodging bullets and the law with the old Kid Curry by my side."

"I don't think he'd agree with you, Heyes."

Heyes sighed, sipped at his drink and stared into space. "No, he wouldn't, but you saw yourself; he's still the target that he was before, even more so, since the gunnies know he did time and are more willin' to test him, thinking he must be slower now. That bullet wound in his left arm is for no other reason than some wannabe gun wanted a crack at Kid Curry and didn't even call him out proper. It's a damn good thing Kid started practicing as soon as he was able after his pardon. He knew he would need to. I had hoped it would be otherwise but he was right. Also, we're recognizable now, what with our pictures in the papers, a whole lot of people now know what we look like who didn't or weren't sure before."

"I have to admit, I thought he would be dead when I realized what was happening, but he's really as fast as his legend. I mean he had to drop his saddle bags, turn around, sight the guy with the gun and draw. He did all that and still managed to hit the guy in the hand, on purpose. I know the other fella wasn't aiming for the Kid's left arm," O'Reilly's voice held just a hint of hero worship that prompted Heyes to give a small smile of pride. "If you don't want him noticed then why are you entering him in a national marksmen contest, Heyes?"

"There's always gonna be a contest. I'd rather see my partner in one that doesn't involve bloodshed. I've seen him bleedin' far too many times already," The dark-haired partner declared vehemently. "Kid needs to do it for himself, too. Prison robbed him of his pride and his confidence in himself, among other things." Heyes frowned and deliberately relaxed his hands, which had clenched unconsciously.

"Do you think he'd win?"

"O'Reilly, every once in awhile a person comes along with a gift that transcends talent, practice or luck and they're just the best at what they do. It could be a painter, musician, writer, engineer, athlete, warrior or a safecracker." Heyes and O'Reilly both laughed, breaking some of the built-up tension in the room.

"You put a six gun in Kid's hand and he's in that class. I've seen him do things with his Colt that don't seem possible, but he does it just the same. He's got that inexplicable combination of speed, accuracy, concentration, control and a tiny bit of magic, plus he's still a young man. Truth be told, I wouldn't be surprised if he's better than he was before prison. There's no doubt in my mind he'll win," Heyes stated with utter conviction.

"But he said no. How are you gonna get him to agree?" From the look on the younger man's face he was extremely skeptical of Heyes' success.

"Who wouldn't want a Colt revolver named after him? The marketing folks will be rubbin' their hands in gleeful anticipation, or maybe horror, at the thought of a Kid Curry signature Colt .45," a throaty chuckle escaped, "and Kid won't be able to resist having a chance to help design it." Heyes picked up his pen and resumed filling out the entry form.

"Besides, Kevin, you should know I do the thinkin' and Kid listens to me… well, except when he don't. He'll listen this time. I'll talk him around. Amnesty was my invitation to a future. This contest is Kid Curry's invitation to a future."

Notes:

The Rocky Mountain News, nicknamed the Rocky, was a daily newspaper published in Denver, CO from April 23, 1859, until February 27, 2009. The Rocky Mountain News was founded by William N. Byers and John L. Dailey along with Dr. George Monell and Thomas Gibson on April 23, 1859, when present-day Denver was part of the Kansas Territory and before the city of Denver had been incorporated. It became Colorado's oldest newspaper and possibly its longest continuously operated business. Its first issue was printed on a printing press from Omaha, Nebraska, that had been hauled by oxcart during the start of the Colorado Gold Rush. That first issue was printed only 20 minutes ahead of its rival, the Cherry Creek Pioneer.

The Rocky went from a weekly to a daily newspaper in August 1860, and from an evening to a morning newspaper in July 1870.

The Denver Post is a daily newspaper that has been published in Denver, Colorado, United States, since 1892. In January 2001, MediaNews and E.W. Scripps, parent company of the now defunct Rocky Mountain News, entered into a joint operating agreement (JOA), creating the Denver Newspaper Agency, which combined the business operations of the former rivals. Under the agreement, the newsrooms of the two newspapers agreed to publish separate morning editions Monday through Friday, with the Post retaining a broadsheet format and the News using a tabloid format.

Saint Louis Fairs

Since the 1850s, St. Louis had hosted annual agricultural and mechanical fairs at Fairground Park to connect with regional manufacturers and growers. However, by the 1880s, the connection to agriculture had declined, and in 1883, a new exposition hall was built at Thirteenth and Olive streets to house industrial exhibits. In 1899, delegates from states that had been part of the Louisiana Purchase met in St. Louis, selecting it as the site of a world's fair celebrating the centennial of the purchase. The Louisiana Purchase Exposition, informally known as the St. Louis World's Fair, was an international exposition held in St. Louis, Missouri, United States, from April 30 to December 1, 1904. Local, state, and federal funds totaling $15 million were used to finance the event. More than 60 countries and 43 of the then-45 American states maintained exhibition spaces at the fair, which was attended by nearly 19.7 million people.

To meet anticipated demand by visitors, several hotels were constructed in downtown and the Central West End, and temporary lodging was erected in the fairgrounds itself by E.M. Statler (who used profits from the facility to found Statler Hotels). While the fair was under construction, it became clear that the western half of the park would not suffice for the size of the fair, so company directors leased the campus of Washington University in St. Louis and several other parcels of land, bringing the total fairgrounds to an area of 1,272 acres. Streetcar and rail service to the area was improved, and a new filtration system was implemented to improve the clarity of the St. Louis water supply. Other infrastructure improvements made for the fair included a wooden bridge at Kings Highway crossing the rail yards of Mill Creek Valley, and a street paving program that improved air quality by reducing airborne dust particulates.