Two Pretty Good ... Nearly-Men
Mar. 7th, 2011 02:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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aliassmithjones Title: Two Pretty Good Bad Lads
Author: Velyrhorde
Characters: Heyes and Curry, G-Rated
In our universe, canon is pretty much just season one - we never bought into the sudden "oh, they're cousins" jump that popped out of nowhere, not to mention the melodramatic war background to explain why they became outlaws. For us, Heyes - genius that he is! - has always pushed the limits of authority, and Curry - a good guy with an unfortunate talent for the fast draw! - pretty much tags along with whatever scheme Heyes cooks up. Here's our version of how they met.
John Hannibal Gray took a final, satisfied look around him at the dusty Kansas landscape. No more hick cow towns for this bright lad! This was the last he’d have to deal with backwoods minds and Puritan attitudes. No, he had a plan; a plan that didn’t include stifling himself behind a desk in some stuffy office, or following in Pa’s sober footsteps. No more "What Do You Plan to Do With Your Life?" lectures from Pa; no more of Ma's attempts to make him feel guilty when he bucked the rules.
He'd thought long and hard, and his plan started with him getting the hell out of Kansas!
He'd thought about catching the train from Kansas City, but so many people had called his name as he stood at the ticket counter - asking where the family was bound, if his father was going to be away long, whether he had permission to be out of school! - that he'd just hitched a ride with a passing farmer and hopped off at the first sign of a railroad station. At least nobody here knew him, so nobody could report his whereabouts back to Ma and Pa.
Now, he just had to wait on the train to arrive. He glanced back at the destination board; even the choices out of town were limited. He could go back East - where people were even more set in their ways than they were here. Or he could go to Colorado. Well, at least it was an easy choice. He sighed and rolled a smoke.
Eventually, John Hannibal Gray would make a name for himself, sure as shooting. He'd land in some big city; somewhere where people appreciated originality and creativity. Somewhere he could be himself, and not have everybody trying to make him live up to some ideal they'd decided for his future. Yep, he needed to head for someplace out West, where all the freethinkers had gone. Maybe San Francisco. But first, he had to get out of this backwoods state.
He looked around him in disdain. He'd travelled a whole day's ride, and he could barely even tell he'd left Kansas CIty. There were the same faded store fronts; the sidewalks only along main street, which meant people had to either wade through mud or dodge horse apples to get to anything not on the main drag; and the same businesses, like somebody had poured a mold and plopped the stores down in every town in the state. Even the people were exactly like the ones he'd left behind.
There was the prim and proper Town Spinster on her way to the general store, looking down her nose at every other woman in town. The Saloon Owner sat on the sidewalk watching passersby, grinning to himself as men averted their eyes and pretended they didn't pass their pay across his bar every weekend. Across the street a Conscientious Mother herded her band of small children carefully away from the saloon - and from any temptation that might prove interesting. He allowed himself a moment of sympathy for the children. There was the Suspicious Storekeeper, sweeping the sidewalk in front of his drab store and keeping an eye out for anyone he thought looked shifty. Why, there was even a Wide-eyed Farm Boy fresh off the prairie.
Suddenly, John Hannibal straightened - dammit, a Pretentious Businessman was headed his way, loaded with packages for the post office next to the rail station! He whirled away from the pudgy, black-suited figure, and stared into the distance as though looking for the train. No luck.
"A young kid like you shouldn't be smoking," came a smug, oily voice from behind him.
John Hannibal sighed, took one last drag on his cigarette, and put on the Earnest Puppy Face before turning.
"Sir, it is a bad habit I have let myself fall into," he said sincerely. "I'm certain if my Ma and Pa were still alive, they would have given me the exact same advice as you have."
Sure enough, a look of sympathy stole across the man's face, and his smug self-satisfaction cracked. "Well, I feel confident you won't smoke in the future," he muttered, now uncomfortable chiding a Poor Orphan.
"I will follow your good advice, sir," said John Hannibal, reaching out to open the door for the man. He ostentatiously snubbed out the cigarette on the doorpost as he did so, while sliding his pack into just the right position as the businessman maneuvered his boxes through the narrow doorway.
"Er ... I'm glad you have seen the error of your ways," the man said. As John Hannibal had planned, he stumbled over the pack and dropped several of his packages. As both of them bent to retrieve them, John Hannibal's trusty left hand darted to the inside pocket of the businessman's suit jacket, and had the fat wallet out so quickly that the man never noticed a thing.
John Hannibal somberly handed back the boxes he'd gathered up, and waited until the businessman had turned and piled the entire load onto the counter, blocking the postmaster's view. Then, without looking, he slid his fingers into the thick stack of bills in the wallet, pulled out only a few from the middle, stuffed them quickly into his shirt pocket, and dropped the wallet carefully beside his feet, where it might have accidently fallen when the man bent over. Once the businessman picked it up, he'd glance to see if the money were there, and see the still-fat sheaf of bills. And even if he did notice something missing later, he'd never connect the loss to the Poor Orphan he had Saved at the railroad station.
Allowing himself a tiny smirk, John Hannibal shouldered his pack and turned to head down the street. Even a hick town like this had to have somewhere a man could find a decent lunch. The farm boy had crossed the street as well, and was squinting at the destination board on the wall. He noticed John Hannibal looking at him, and blushed the color of a ripe tomato. The kid was one of those gangly towheaded boys with fair skin that showed up a blush, and John Hannibal felt a pang of sympathy. Part of his own talent at outwitting authority depended on his ability to fake sincerity; he couldn't imagine trying to pull the stunt he'd just pulled with that skin color to handicap him.
He nodded to the other youngster and started to walk past him to the street. The kid cleared his throat nervously, and stepped into John Hannibal's path.
"Sorry to bother you," he muttered, "but I don't read so good. Which train is the one to Colorado?"
John Hannibal could hear the sounds of packages being passed across a counter from inside the station, and turned back toward the farm boy with a wide smile.
"My friend, you are in luck today, because that is exactly the same train that I am waiting on!" He threw an arm across the startled kid's shoulders and pulled him around to face the street. The other was forced to walk along, as John Hannibal strode forcefully away from the station.
"And since that train does not arrive for several hours," he continued, "I had just decided to have some lunch and pass the time in Millie's Fine Foods."
He glanced sideways at the other. "Although, between the two of us, we can only hope for Millie's Passable Foods in a town this small."
The farm boy had stiffened beneath John Hannibal's arm. "I think I'll just wait at the station," he muttered, coming to a stop in the middle of the street.
John Hannibal paused to give the other youngster a better look. The kid was gangly as a colt, several inches taller than John Hannibal, but with barely any meat on his bones, like he hadn't been eating too good for a while. His sandy hair was snarled and in sore need of a cut, and his worn clothing was dirty and in need of mending in several places. His boots were down at the heels, and the right one looked as if it had a hole in the sole from the way the kid favored that foot. The gunnysack over his shoulder looked mighty thin, and John Hannibal doubted there was any food at all inside it.
He acted on impulse. "Say, I just got paid off from my last job," he said, tugging at the other's shoulder. "Let me get lunch this time, and you can buy me lunch somewhere on down the line."
The other looked askance, and narrowed his eyes. John Hannibal hastily widened his own and put on the Friendly Boy Next Door face. "After all," he said, "We're both catching the same train. We're bound to meet up sometime if we're in the same neck of the woods." The fact that John Hannibal was headed to Colorado only as a stopping point on the way to the big city had no bearing whatsoever on the truth of that statement.
The kid stared at him for a moment, his expression plainly showing pride warring with hunger, and finally losing. "I guess it's OK if I'm going to pay you back," he muttered. John Hannibal restrained a sigh of relief, for behind the kid's thin shoulder he could see the door to the station beginning to open. He hustled the other youngster onto the sidewalk and into the restaurant. Once inside, he glanced around and paused to sigh. Perhaps Millie's Slightly Edible Foods.
The small room was dim and dusty, though he did admit that some effort had been made to pretty it up with chintz curtains at the windows and checked cloth on the two large tables that spanned most of the floor. John Hannibal led the other youngster to the end of one table furthest from the door, and sat where he could see anyone who came in. Millie, or one of her cohorts, slowly moved to stand beside the table.
"We got beef and beans," she mumbled, "mutton stew, or venison. Biscuits and coffee come with the meals."
John Hannibal sighed once more. "I guess I'll have the beef," he said, fishing out the required price for two meals. There wasn't much you could do to ruin a slab of meat. It dawned on him that he was going to miss Ma's cooking. He'd have to find a good restaurant when he hit the big city. That shouldn't be very hard. He poured a cup of coffee from the lukewarm pot on the table, and snagged a biscuit.
The kid was either brave or naive, and ordered the stew. Once the waitress turned back towards the kitchen, John Hannibal faced his new acquaintance.
"So," he said with a smile, "you're what, 15?" He raised one eyebrow. "Out on your own for the first time, finding it hard to get work, and ready to get out of Kansas same as me."
The blue eyes narrowed once more. "I'm 14," the kid said. "How’d you figure all that?"
"Kid, you don't want to know what all I can tell just by looking at a person." John Hannibal leaned back in his seat. "I figure you ain't been eating too regular, either," he added. "You got work waiting in Colorado?"
The kid scowled. "I don't think you really need to know my business," he muttered. "How old are you anyhow?"
John Hannibal waved the question away. "Oh, I'm old enough to be out on my own," he said. "It's an advantage, in my line of work, for a fellow to look younger than he is."
As he'd planned, the kid's attention was diverted. "What sort of 'line of work' could somebody our age possibly be in?"
"You'd be surprised, kid." John Hannibal said. The waitress returned to set a plate in front of each of them, and he waited until she left to resume the conversation.
"So do you have work waiting, or are you headed to Colorado on a whim?" He took a moment to saw into his slice of beef - surprisingly, it was neither overcooked nor rare, and he took a pleased bite before looking back across the table.
"I only ask," he said, "because I'm headed out west myself, and it occurs to me that a partner might be a definite asset to me." He waited until the other put a spoonful of stew into his mouth before he added, "Besides, a kid like you could use an experienced man of the world to show him the ropes."
John Hannibal ignored the choking sounds from across the table - the stew was probably horrible - and dug into his beef with satisfaction.
He was going to have to come up with some sort of alias, he decided. John Hannibal Gray was a bland sort of name. Well, maybe not the first part. Actually, he'd always liked being John Hannibal. It had a nice ring to it. Imagine if he'd been born during Pa's Ancient Greece craze, like Paul Xenophon. No, it was the last name that had to go; Gray was way too ordinary. Besides, he'd never felt like a Gray. Maybe John Hannibal Black, or John Hannibal Dark.
And he'd have to come up with somewhere a little less stuffy than Kansas City as his home. John Hannibal from Kansas City just did not sound like a name to respect. He'd have to think about it.
He looked up to find the kid pointing across the table with his spoon. His brow was furrowed and his eyes narrowed. John Hannibal raised both eyebrows and put on the Totally Innocent face.
"You are unnatural, that's what!" the kid accused. "I don't know how you figured out all that about me. And I know you ain't no older'n me!" He paused to take a breath. "And you talking all educated like that, trying to bamboozle me! I don't know what your game is, but I ain't got nothing worth stealing, so you can just walk off now."
John Hannibal's shoulders sagged. He'd just been bragging a bit, trying to impress the kid. He hadn't meant to make the other mad at him. "Hey," he said. "I wasn't trying to bamboozle you, honest." He looked into the thin face across the table. The kid had that expression that said he was trying to pretend he didn't care, but was that close to tears of frustration; John Hannibal had put on that face a time or two himself.
He sighed. "Look, I'm on my own, too," he admitted. "My Pa kicked me out and I'm headed out west to make my fortune. I thought you might like to come along, us being two youngsters in the same fix. We could keep each other from getting bored." He looked into the worried blue eyes and tried half a smile.
The kid put down his spoon. His eyes stayed narrowed, but his shoulders loosened. He reached for a biscuit. "Why'd your Pa kick you out?" he asked around a mouthful.
John Hannibal shrugged, glancing away from the suspicious gaze. Man, those blue eyes could go from innocent to icy in no time flat! He looked down at his plate and rearranged the beans with his spoon - not half as well cooked as the beef, and somehow his appetite was gone anyway. "Oh, I got into some trouble," he said.
The kid glared across the table over another spoonful of mutton. The stew must not be too bad, then. He tried a smile. The kid raised an eyebrow. John Hannibal sighed. He rolled his eyes. The kid continued to glare.
"Fine! I broke into a safe and left a skunk inside. Happy now?"
The other youngster blinked, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "You broke into a safe," he repeated.
"The shopkeeper was a bully," John Hannibal muttered. "And he hiked up his prices if he didn't like you. He deserved it." He glared back at the other. "And I didn't take anything out of the damn safe."
"You put a skunk inside a safe," the kid repeated.
"I rigged the door so it wouldn't close all the way! There was plenty of air!" John Hannibal crumbled the leftover half of his biscuit. "Besides, there ain't no law against breaking into a safe and putting something in, is there?"
"So let me get this straight," the kid said, leaning over the table to again point the spoon at John Hannibal. It was starting to get annoying. "You broke into a store, blew the safe open, and put a skunk inside?"
John Hannibal stiffened in outrage. "I did not blow the safe! Anybody could blow up a safe!" He realized that he was nearly shouting, and hastily lowered his voice.
"I do not blow things up!" he repeated. "I'll have you know it took me six hours to crack that safe, but did I get any recognition for my creativity? No, I was treated like a common criminal is what!"
He glared at the unappetizing beans on his plate until he heard a snort from across the table. The kid had a hand to his mouth, trying to muffle a laugh. Now that was really too much! Nobody laughed at John Hannibal - not more than once anyhow. He shoved his chair back and started to leave.
"Oh, sit down," the kid said. He quit trying to hide his grin, and John Hannibal frowned.
"C'mon, put your hackles back down, ain't nobody making fun of you." The kid waved toward the chair. John Hannibal glared suspiciously at him until he got control of that grin, then he thumped back down into the chair.
"You're kinda proddy when it's you on the receiving end, ain't you?" the kid said. "You should work on that if you're planning on bamboozling as a career."
John Hannibal said nothing, but poured himself another cup of coffee.
The kid stared at him for a moment. "How far west you aiming to go?" he asked.
John Hannibal shrugged. "I hadn't made up my mind," he admitted. "I just want to get as far away from Kansas as possible."
"Well I got me an uncle in Colorado," the kid said, polishing his empty plate with his fourth biscuit. "but he don't know I'm coming. I ain't even sure he knows Ma and Pa are gone."
John Hannibal didn't know quite to say to that. What was there to say when someone just told you their family was dead?
"You gonna finish that?" The kid pointed to the untouched beans on John Hannibal's plate.
John Hannibal shook his head, still unable to come up with anything to add. The kid reached over to snag the plate, grabbed the last two biscuits and proceeded to polish that off as well.
"So, anyway," he continued, "there ain't really no reason why I can't skip my uncle's place and just keep moving once we get to Colorado." He looked across the table, his blue eyes twinkling. "I gotta admit, with you around, life sure wouldn't be boring. A skunk in the safe!"
"Yeah, well, we really should go buy our tickets if we're going to get to Colorado," John Hannibal said, rising from the table once more. He had the distinct impression he was going to regret sharing that story.
"I suppose we should," said the other with a grin. "I'm looking forward to seeing what kinda schemes you got up your sleeve once we get there."
They headed back down the street. John Hannibal took the opportunity to discreetly remove the wad of bills from his pocket and see how much he'd earned from the Pretentious Businessman. He hiked an eyebrow up. Two tens, a five, and a twenty! With the ten he'd saved up from his allowance, he'd be living large until he hit California. He joined the kid inside the station and watched as the other laboriously counted out enough coins to pay for his fare. Really, John Hannibal was going to have to help this guy find some way to earn a living before he took off for the big city.
Tickets in hand, the two of them wandered out onto the platform to while away the rest of the time until the train arrived. They were practically the only people waiting. There was a travelling salesman of some sort on the bench at the other end; he'd set his large case of goods on the floor between his feet and was lighting a cigar. An older couple, probably husband and wife, sat quietly chatting on the bench beside the salesman. They had only a small bag between them, so were probably only making a short visit, perhaps to relatives. John Hannibal sized the other travelers up by habit; his mind was busy planning his future once he hit the big city.
He'd have to find a job that could hold his interest. Somewhere, there was a career that would make use of the ideas that flowed through his head like a river headed for the sea! He wouldn't be able to sit at a desk, or stand behind a counter. No, he needed to really stretch his mind; to explore the limits of his imagination. He needed excitement.
The kid set his gunnysack on a bench, interrupting John Hannibal's thoughts, and glanced over. "So how old did you say you were?"
John Hannibal rolled a smoke and scratched a match into flame against a post. He grinned. "I didn't, kid. I'm old enough."
The blue eyes twinkled. "I'll bet you're younger'n me."
John Hannibal refused to rise to the bait. The kid had made a good point back there; he did have a temper when it came to being ridiculed. Time to rein that bad habit in before it became a liability.
"See," the other continued, "you can't keep calling me 'Kid' if you're younger'n me. But you don't want to admit it coz you like coming off as older and more experienced."
"Kid," John Hannibal said, "most anybody is more experienced than you. But stick with me and we'll fix that soon enough."
He blew a smoke ring. "And I call you 'Kid' coz you look like one. Those big blue eyes and that baby face under all that blonde hair!" He offered the tobacco pouch to the other youngster, who waved it away with a vaguely shocked expression. John Hannibal grinned. Bet he didn't drink anything stronger than sarsaparilla either. He'd learn.
"Now see," he continued, "we can make that work to our advantage. You looking all young and innocent, teamed up with me looking like ... well...”
"Like you're up to something," the kid said. John Hannibal shot him a look from the corner of his eye, and he shrugged. "Well, you do, unless you get all wide-eyed and innocent looking like you done every time I tried to argue with you. Maybe I can just see through your act better'n most."
John Hannibal paused. "Maybe you're right, kid." He hiked an eyebrow. "Everybody I've run into so far seems to buy into whatever I'm selling, but it sort of makes sense there'd be one or two who could see past the front.
He leaned over to slap the kid's shoulder. "See, that proves it! You and me were meant to team up."
The kid looked dubious. "I still ain't so sure how me looking young is going to be an advantage. And I ain't sure I want to know either."
John Hannibal glanced around. "Look," he said, pointing to the postmaster, who was hauling the day's mailbags to the end of the platform in anticipation of the train's arrival. A deputy stood ostentatiously to one side, one hand on his pistol.
"Now, there's a good example." John Hannibal stabbed his cigarette toward the little procession as it made its way down the platform. "Those two are so involved with their own importance that any professional thief could rob them blind before they knew it."
The kid stared. He glanced back at John Hannibal, then stared at the mailbags once more. "I don't see it," he said. Then his eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'professional thief'?"
John Hannibal allowed himself half a smirk. "Hold your horses for a minute, kid. OK, see how the postmaster is so busy making sure all of the bags are in just the right place that he's not paying any attention to anything else?"
The kid nodded, still frowning in confusion. John Hannibal continued. "Now look at the lawman. He is a Deputy of the Law - note the capital letters - he is Important, and he wants everybody to know it. He's so busy looking official that he's not looking around him at all."
John Hannibal glanced over to make sure the other was watching him, and winked. "Why, a baby-faced, innocent-looking fellow could just waltz right over there behind him and pull that gun out of his holster before he even knew what was happening."
The kid's jaw dropped. "You are a thief! I should have suspected it!" He suddenly reached for his gunnysack, and rummaged around inside. "Wha'd you take outta here?"
"Kid!" John Hannibal was hurt. "I got rules, you know!"
The kid glowered suspiciously.
"I can't believe you think I'd buy you lunch, get on the same train as you, and plan on us being partners just so I could steal your best shirt or your Pa's bible!" The kid's eyes widened, and he opened the gunnysack again. When he held up a bible, John Hannibal shrugged. Just because a man wasn't planning to rob somebody didn't mean he didn't find out what goods they had on them!
He sighed. "I'd never steal from a friend," he said seriously. The kid still glowered.
"OK," John Hannibal said. He put his cigarette between his lips while he ticked off one finger for each of his rules. "Rule One: don't steal from nobody unless they can afford to lose it. Rule Two: don't get greedy. Rule Three: nobody gets hurt. And the most important Rule: if things start going sour, leave the loot and get the hell out."
He shot the kid a half-smirk. "That's the one that most people screw up, which is why the law catches most of them when they try to buck authority."
The kid shot a glare back at him. "You got caught with your skunk," he said.
John Hannibal rolled his eyes. "I got caught," he said between gritted teeth, "because I gave in to my emotions and rushed it. If I'd waited a few months and let that storekeeper bully a few more people, maybe even let him find his cashier skimming out of the till, nobody would have caught on it was me."
The kid nodded. He glanced at John Hannibal from the corner of his eyes. "And nobody would ever suspect a twelve year old kid would know how to open a safe," he said.
John Hannibal hiked an eyebrow. "Nice guess," he said, "but I'm way past twelve."
"Well, I know you ain't my age yet, so that'd make you thirteen."
"I don't know what fascinates you so much about knowing my age, kid. I ain't telling you, and you'd best get used to the fact."
The kid shook his head. He looked back down the platform at the deputy. "So you rob people for a living," he muttered. "I don't know why I'm still sitting here next to you."
John Hannibal grinned. "Because you ain't been doing too good getting money so far," he said. "And because you're tired of bowing down to the kind of law that'd make it hard for a kid your age to get a decent job, but won't help him put food on his table."
The other thought about it for a minute. "I gotta say, I ain't feeling too respectful of the law right at this moment," he admitted. "There ought to have been some way somebody could have helped me take care of the other kids after our parents got killed, instead of me having to send them off to our aunt to raise."
He frowned then. "And it ain't right she's got the power to say where we live, just because I'm young. That's why I lit out, because I can't abide all her blamed rules."
He shot John Hannibal a glare. "It ain't right the law won't help people out. There ought to be something somebody could do."
John Hannibal smiled, leaning back on the bench. "That's exactly my aim, kid," he said. "I'm not 'robbing people' - I'm bucking authority and hitting them where it'll hurt the most. Ain't nobody going to listen to a couple of youngsters like us; ain't nobody going to change no laws. But by gum, we can at least get back at them."
The kid narrowed his eyes. He glanced back down the platform at the deputy. "So you're saying we should go rob them?"
John Hannibal snorted. "Hell no, that ain't nothing but a mail delivery! There's no money in those bags. No, if they had anything valuable in there, they'd likely have a better trained deputy guarding it."
He paused to shoot a glance at the kid. "Likely," he said with a smirk, "but not always."
The locomotive came into sight down the tracks, and they stood up to stretch. The kid was still staring at the mailbags, and John Hannibal could practically see the cogs turning in his head.
"Have you ever...? " he muttered without turning his head. "I mean ... like a bank, or a train?"
John Hannibal grinned. "Hell, no," he replied, "you need ... at least two people to pull off a good heist."
The kid's head whipped around. John Hannibal hiked an eyebrow and continued to grin. Slowly, an answering grin spread across the kid's face.
The train chuffed its way to a stop at the platform. As they waited for the paltry few passengers to disembark, the kid stuck out a hand toward John Hannibal.
"The name's Jed Curry," he said, "from Ellsworth."
A huge burst of steam from the locomotive's brakes made John Hannibal shout to be heard. "I'm John Hannibal," he yelled, "from ... from Hays!"
They clambered aboard and found seats. The kid ... Jed ... turned to face John Hannibal. "I didn't quite get all that," he said. "Did you say your name's Hannibal Heyes?"
John Hannibal stared at him for a long moment. It was perfect. "Kid," he replied, "that's exactly what I said."
Author: Velyrhorde
Characters: Heyes and Curry, G-Rated
In our universe, canon is pretty much just season one - we never bought into the sudden "oh, they're cousins" jump that popped out of nowhere, not to mention the melodramatic war background to explain why they became outlaws. For us, Heyes - genius that he is! - has always pushed the limits of authority, and Curry - a good guy with an unfortunate talent for the fast draw! - pretty much tags along with whatever scheme Heyes cooks up. Here's our version of how they met.
John Hannibal Gray took a final, satisfied look around him at the dusty Kansas landscape. No more hick cow towns for this bright lad! This was the last he’d have to deal with backwoods minds and Puritan attitudes. No, he had a plan; a plan that didn’t include stifling himself behind a desk in some stuffy office, or following in Pa’s sober footsteps. No more "What Do You Plan to Do With Your Life?" lectures from Pa; no more of Ma's attempts to make him feel guilty when he bucked the rules.
He'd thought long and hard, and his plan started with him getting the hell out of Kansas!
He'd thought about catching the train from Kansas City, but so many people had called his name as he stood at the ticket counter - asking where the family was bound, if his father was going to be away long, whether he had permission to be out of school! - that he'd just hitched a ride with a passing farmer and hopped off at the first sign of a railroad station. At least nobody here knew him, so nobody could report his whereabouts back to Ma and Pa.
Now, he just had to wait on the train to arrive. He glanced back at the destination board; even the choices out of town were limited. He could go back East - where people were even more set in their ways than they were here. Or he could go to Colorado. Well, at least it was an easy choice. He sighed and rolled a smoke.
Eventually, John Hannibal Gray would make a name for himself, sure as shooting. He'd land in some big city; somewhere where people appreciated originality and creativity. Somewhere he could be himself, and not have everybody trying to make him live up to some ideal they'd decided for his future. Yep, he needed to head for someplace out West, where all the freethinkers had gone. Maybe San Francisco. But first, he had to get out of this backwoods state.
He looked around him in disdain. He'd travelled a whole day's ride, and he could barely even tell he'd left Kansas CIty. There were the same faded store fronts; the sidewalks only along main street, which meant people had to either wade through mud or dodge horse apples to get to anything not on the main drag; and the same businesses, like somebody had poured a mold and plopped the stores down in every town in the state. Even the people were exactly like the ones he'd left behind.
There was the prim and proper Town Spinster on her way to the general store, looking down her nose at every other woman in town. The Saloon Owner sat on the sidewalk watching passersby, grinning to himself as men averted their eyes and pretended they didn't pass their pay across his bar every weekend. Across the street a Conscientious Mother herded her band of small children carefully away from the saloon - and from any temptation that might prove interesting. He allowed himself a moment of sympathy for the children. There was the Suspicious Storekeeper, sweeping the sidewalk in front of his drab store and keeping an eye out for anyone he thought looked shifty. Why, there was even a Wide-eyed Farm Boy fresh off the prairie.
Suddenly, John Hannibal straightened - dammit, a Pretentious Businessman was headed his way, loaded with packages for the post office next to the rail station! He whirled away from the pudgy, black-suited figure, and stared into the distance as though looking for the train. No luck.
"A young kid like you shouldn't be smoking," came a smug, oily voice from behind him.
John Hannibal sighed, took one last drag on his cigarette, and put on the Earnest Puppy Face before turning.
"Sir, it is a bad habit I have let myself fall into," he said sincerely. "I'm certain if my Ma and Pa were still alive, they would have given me the exact same advice as you have."
Sure enough, a look of sympathy stole across the man's face, and his smug self-satisfaction cracked. "Well, I feel confident you won't smoke in the future," he muttered, now uncomfortable chiding a Poor Orphan.
"I will follow your good advice, sir," said John Hannibal, reaching out to open the door for the man. He ostentatiously snubbed out the cigarette on the doorpost as he did so, while sliding his pack into just the right position as the businessman maneuvered his boxes through the narrow doorway.
"Er ... I'm glad you have seen the error of your ways," the man said. As John Hannibal had planned, he stumbled over the pack and dropped several of his packages. As both of them bent to retrieve them, John Hannibal's trusty left hand darted to the inside pocket of the businessman's suit jacket, and had the fat wallet out so quickly that the man never noticed a thing.
John Hannibal somberly handed back the boxes he'd gathered up, and waited until the businessman had turned and piled the entire load onto the counter, blocking the postmaster's view. Then, without looking, he slid his fingers into the thick stack of bills in the wallet, pulled out only a few from the middle, stuffed them quickly into his shirt pocket, and dropped the wallet carefully beside his feet, where it might have accidently fallen when the man bent over. Once the businessman picked it up, he'd glance to see if the money were there, and see the still-fat sheaf of bills. And even if he did notice something missing later, he'd never connect the loss to the Poor Orphan he had Saved at the railroad station.
Allowing himself a tiny smirk, John Hannibal shouldered his pack and turned to head down the street. Even a hick town like this had to have somewhere a man could find a decent lunch. The farm boy had crossed the street as well, and was squinting at the destination board on the wall. He noticed John Hannibal looking at him, and blushed the color of a ripe tomato. The kid was one of those gangly towheaded boys with fair skin that showed up a blush, and John Hannibal felt a pang of sympathy. Part of his own talent at outwitting authority depended on his ability to fake sincerity; he couldn't imagine trying to pull the stunt he'd just pulled with that skin color to handicap him.
He nodded to the other youngster and started to walk past him to the street. The kid cleared his throat nervously, and stepped into John Hannibal's path.
"Sorry to bother you," he muttered, "but I don't read so good. Which train is the one to Colorado?"
John Hannibal could hear the sounds of packages being passed across a counter from inside the station, and turned back toward the farm boy with a wide smile.
"My friend, you are in luck today, because that is exactly the same train that I am waiting on!" He threw an arm across the startled kid's shoulders and pulled him around to face the street. The other was forced to walk along, as John Hannibal strode forcefully away from the station.
"And since that train does not arrive for several hours," he continued, "I had just decided to have some lunch and pass the time in Millie's Fine Foods."
He glanced sideways at the other. "Although, between the two of us, we can only hope for Millie's Passable Foods in a town this small."
The farm boy had stiffened beneath John Hannibal's arm. "I think I'll just wait at the station," he muttered, coming to a stop in the middle of the street.
John Hannibal paused to give the other youngster a better look. The kid was gangly as a colt, several inches taller than John Hannibal, but with barely any meat on his bones, like he hadn't been eating too good for a while. His sandy hair was snarled and in sore need of a cut, and his worn clothing was dirty and in need of mending in several places. His boots were down at the heels, and the right one looked as if it had a hole in the sole from the way the kid favored that foot. The gunnysack over his shoulder looked mighty thin, and John Hannibal doubted there was any food at all inside it.
He acted on impulse. "Say, I just got paid off from my last job," he said, tugging at the other's shoulder. "Let me get lunch this time, and you can buy me lunch somewhere on down the line."
The other looked askance, and narrowed his eyes. John Hannibal hastily widened his own and put on the Friendly Boy Next Door face. "After all," he said, "We're both catching the same train. We're bound to meet up sometime if we're in the same neck of the woods." The fact that John Hannibal was headed to Colorado only as a stopping point on the way to the big city had no bearing whatsoever on the truth of that statement.
The kid stared at him for a moment, his expression plainly showing pride warring with hunger, and finally losing. "I guess it's OK if I'm going to pay you back," he muttered. John Hannibal restrained a sigh of relief, for behind the kid's thin shoulder he could see the door to the station beginning to open. He hustled the other youngster onto the sidewalk and into the restaurant. Once inside, he glanced around and paused to sigh. Perhaps Millie's Slightly Edible Foods.
The small room was dim and dusty, though he did admit that some effort had been made to pretty it up with chintz curtains at the windows and checked cloth on the two large tables that spanned most of the floor. John Hannibal led the other youngster to the end of one table furthest from the door, and sat where he could see anyone who came in. Millie, or one of her cohorts, slowly moved to stand beside the table.
"We got beef and beans," she mumbled, "mutton stew, or venison. Biscuits and coffee come with the meals."
John Hannibal sighed once more. "I guess I'll have the beef," he said, fishing out the required price for two meals. There wasn't much you could do to ruin a slab of meat. It dawned on him that he was going to miss Ma's cooking. He'd have to find a good restaurant when he hit the big city. That shouldn't be very hard. He poured a cup of coffee from the lukewarm pot on the table, and snagged a biscuit.
The kid was either brave or naive, and ordered the stew. Once the waitress turned back towards the kitchen, John Hannibal faced his new acquaintance.
"So," he said with a smile, "you're what, 15?" He raised one eyebrow. "Out on your own for the first time, finding it hard to get work, and ready to get out of Kansas same as me."
The blue eyes narrowed once more. "I'm 14," the kid said. "How’d you figure all that?"
"Kid, you don't want to know what all I can tell just by looking at a person." John Hannibal leaned back in his seat. "I figure you ain't been eating too regular, either," he added. "You got work waiting in Colorado?"
The kid scowled. "I don't think you really need to know my business," he muttered. "How old are you anyhow?"
John Hannibal waved the question away. "Oh, I'm old enough to be out on my own," he said. "It's an advantage, in my line of work, for a fellow to look younger than he is."
As he'd planned, the kid's attention was diverted. "What sort of 'line of work' could somebody our age possibly be in?"
"You'd be surprised, kid." John Hannibal said. The waitress returned to set a plate in front of each of them, and he waited until she left to resume the conversation.
"So do you have work waiting, or are you headed to Colorado on a whim?" He took a moment to saw into his slice of beef - surprisingly, it was neither overcooked nor rare, and he took a pleased bite before looking back across the table.
"I only ask," he said, "because I'm headed out west myself, and it occurs to me that a partner might be a definite asset to me." He waited until the other put a spoonful of stew into his mouth before he added, "Besides, a kid like you could use an experienced man of the world to show him the ropes."
John Hannibal ignored the choking sounds from across the table - the stew was probably horrible - and dug into his beef with satisfaction.
He was going to have to come up with some sort of alias, he decided. John Hannibal Gray was a bland sort of name. Well, maybe not the first part. Actually, he'd always liked being John Hannibal. It had a nice ring to it. Imagine if he'd been born during Pa's Ancient Greece craze, like Paul Xenophon. No, it was the last name that had to go; Gray was way too ordinary. Besides, he'd never felt like a Gray. Maybe John Hannibal Black, or John Hannibal Dark.
And he'd have to come up with somewhere a little less stuffy than Kansas City as his home. John Hannibal from Kansas City just did not sound like a name to respect. He'd have to think about it.
He looked up to find the kid pointing across the table with his spoon. His brow was furrowed and his eyes narrowed. John Hannibal raised both eyebrows and put on the Totally Innocent face.
"You are unnatural, that's what!" the kid accused. "I don't know how you figured out all that about me. And I know you ain't no older'n me!" He paused to take a breath. "And you talking all educated like that, trying to bamboozle me! I don't know what your game is, but I ain't got nothing worth stealing, so you can just walk off now."
John Hannibal's shoulders sagged. He'd just been bragging a bit, trying to impress the kid. He hadn't meant to make the other mad at him. "Hey," he said. "I wasn't trying to bamboozle you, honest." He looked into the thin face across the table. The kid had that expression that said he was trying to pretend he didn't care, but was that close to tears of frustration; John Hannibal had put on that face a time or two himself.
He sighed. "Look, I'm on my own, too," he admitted. "My Pa kicked me out and I'm headed out west to make my fortune. I thought you might like to come along, us being two youngsters in the same fix. We could keep each other from getting bored." He looked into the worried blue eyes and tried half a smile.
The kid put down his spoon. His eyes stayed narrowed, but his shoulders loosened. He reached for a biscuit. "Why'd your Pa kick you out?" he asked around a mouthful.
John Hannibal shrugged, glancing away from the suspicious gaze. Man, those blue eyes could go from innocent to icy in no time flat! He looked down at his plate and rearranged the beans with his spoon - not half as well cooked as the beef, and somehow his appetite was gone anyway. "Oh, I got into some trouble," he said.
The kid glared across the table over another spoonful of mutton. The stew must not be too bad, then. He tried a smile. The kid raised an eyebrow. John Hannibal sighed. He rolled his eyes. The kid continued to glare.
"Fine! I broke into a safe and left a skunk inside. Happy now?"
The other youngster blinked, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "You broke into a safe," he repeated.
"The shopkeeper was a bully," John Hannibal muttered. "And he hiked up his prices if he didn't like you. He deserved it." He glared back at the other. "And I didn't take anything out of the damn safe."
"You put a skunk inside a safe," the kid repeated.
"I rigged the door so it wouldn't close all the way! There was plenty of air!" John Hannibal crumbled the leftover half of his biscuit. "Besides, there ain't no law against breaking into a safe and putting something in, is there?"
"So let me get this straight," the kid said, leaning over the table to again point the spoon at John Hannibal. It was starting to get annoying. "You broke into a store, blew the safe open, and put a skunk inside?"
John Hannibal stiffened in outrage. "I did not blow the safe! Anybody could blow up a safe!" He realized that he was nearly shouting, and hastily lowered his voice.
"I do not blow things up!" he repeated. "I'll have you know it took me six hours to crack that safe, but did I get any recognition for my creativity? No, I was treated like a common criminal is what!"
He glared at the unappetizing beans on his plate until he heard a snort from across the table. The kid had a hand to his mouth, trying to muffle a laugh. Now that was really too much! Nobody laughed at John Hannibal - not more than once anyhow. He shoved his chair back and started to leave.
"Oh, sit down," the kid said. He quit trying to hide his grin, and John Hannibal frowned.
"C'mon, put your hackles back down, ain't nobody making fun of you." The kid waved toward the chair. John Hannibal glared suspiciously at him until he got control of that grin, then he thumped back down into the chair.
"You're kinda proddy when it's you on the receiving end, ain't you?" the kid said. "You should work on that if you're planning on bamboozling as a career."
John Hannibal said nothing, but poured himself another cup of coffee.
The kid stared at him for a moment. "How far west you aiming to go?" he asked.
John Hannibal shrugged. "I hadn't made up my mind," he admitted. "I just want to get as far away from Kansas as possible."
"Well I got me an uncle in Colorado," the kid said, polishing his empty plate with his fourth biscuit. "but he don't know I'm coming. I ain't even sure he knows Ma and Pa are gone."
John Hannibal didn't know quite to say to that. What was there to say when someone just told you their family was dead?
"You gonna finish that?" The kid pointed to the untouched beans on John Hannibal's plate.
John Hannibal shook his head, still unable to come up with anything to add. The kid reached over to snag the plate, grabbed the last two biscuits and proceeded to polish that off as well.
"So, anyway," he continued, "there ain't really no reason why I can't skip my uncle's place and just keep moving once we get to Colorado." He looked across the table, his blue eyes twinkling. "I gotta admit, with you around, life sure wouldn't be boring. A skunk in the safe!"
"Yeah, well, we really should go buy our tickets if we're going to get to Colorado," John Hannibal said, rising from the table once more. He had the distinct impression he was going to regret sharing that story.
"I suppose we should," said the other with a grin. "I'm looking forward to seeing what kinda schemes you got up your sleeve once we get there."
They headed back down the street. John Hannibal took the opportunity to discreetly remove the wad of bills from his pocket and see how much he'd earned from the Pretentious Businessman. He hiked an eyebrow up. Two tens, a five, and a twenty! With the ten he'd saved up from his allowance, he'd be living large until he hit California. He joined the kid inside the station and watched as the other laboriously counted out enough coins to pay for his fare. Really, John Hannibal was going to have to help this guy find some way to earn a living before he took off for the big city.
Tickets in hand, the two of them wandered out onto the platform to while away the rest of the time until the train arrived. They were practically the only people waiting. There was a travelling salesman of some sort on the bench at the other end; he'd set his large case of goods on the floor between his feet and was lighting a cigar. An older couple, probably husband and wife, sat quietly chatting on the bench beside the salesman. They had only a small bag between them, so were probably only making a short visit, perhaps to relatives. John Hannibal sized the other travelers up by habit; his mind was busy planning his future once he hit the big city.
He'd have to find a job that could hold his interest. Somewhere, there was a career that would make use of the ideas that flowed through his head like a river headed for the sea! He wouldn't be able to sit at a desk, or stand behind a counter. No, he needed to really stretch his mind; to explore the limits of his imagination. He needed excitement.
The kid set his gunnysack on a bench, interrupting John Hannibal's thoughts, and glanced over. "So how old did you say you were?"
John Hannibal rolled a smoke and scratched a match into flame against a post. He grinned. "I didn't, kid. I'm old enough."
The blue eyes twinkled. "I'll bet you're younger'n me."
John Hannibal refused to rise to the bait. The kid had made a good point back there; he did have a temper when it came to being ridiculed. Time to rein that bad habit in before it became a liability.
"See," the other continued, "you can't keep calling me 'Kid' if you're younger'n me. But you don't want to admit it coz you like coming off as older and more experienced."
"Kid," John Hannibal said, "most anybody is more experienced than you. But stick with me and we'll fix that soon enough."
He blew a smoke ring. "And I call you 'Kid' coz you look like one. Those big blue eyes and that baby face under all that blonde hair!" He offered the tobacco pouch to the other youngster, who waved it away with a vaguely shocked expression. John Hannibal grinned. Bet he didn't drink anything stronger than sarsaparilla either. He'd learn.
"Now see," he continued, "we can make that work to our advantage. You looking all young and innocent, teamed up with me looking like ... well...”
"Like you're up to something," the kid said. John Hannibal shot him a look from the corner of his eye, and he shrugged. "Well, you do, unless you get all wide-eyed and innocent looking like you done every time I tried to argue with you. Maybe I can just see through your act better'n most."
John Hannibal paused. "Maybe you're right, kid." He hiked an eyebrow. "Everybody I've run into so far seems to buy into whatever I'm selling, but it sort of makes sense there'd be one or two who could see past the front.
He leaned over to slap the kid's shoulder. "See, that proves it! You and me were meant to team up."
The kid looked dubious. "I still ain't so sure how me looking young is going to be an advantage. And I ain't sure I want to know either."
John Hannibal glanced around. "Look," he said, pointing to the postmaster, who was hauling the day's mailbags to the end of the platform in anticipation of the train's arrival. A deputy stood ostentatiously to one side, one hand on his pistol.
"Now, there's a good example." John Hannibal stabbed his cigarette toward the little procession as it made its way down the platform. "Those two are so involved with their own importance that any professional thief could rob them blind before they knew it."
The kid stared. He glanced back at John Hannibal, then stared at the mailbags once more. "I don't see it," he said. Then his eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'professional thief'?"
John Hannibal allowed himself half a smirk. "Hold your horses for a minute, kid. OK, see how the postmaster is so busy making sure all of the bags are in just the right place that he's not paying any attention to anything else?"
The kid nodded, still frowning in confusion. John Hannibal continued. "Now look at the lawman. He is a Deputy of the Law - note the capital letters - he is Important, and he wants everybody to know it. He's so busy looking official that he's not looking around him at all."
John Hannibal glanced over to make sure the other was watching him, and winked. "Why, a baby-faced, innocent-looking fellow could just waltz right over there behind him and pull that gun out of his holster before he even knew what was happening."
The kid's jaw dropped. "You are a thief! I should have suspected it!" He suddenly reached for his gunnysack, and rummaged around inside. "Wha'd you take outta here?"
"Kid!" John Hannibal was hurt. "I got rules, you know!"
The kid glowered suspiciously.
"I can't believe you think I'd buy you lunch, get on the same train as you, and plan on us being partners just so I could steal your best shirt or your Pa's bible!" The kid's eyes widened, and he opened the gunnysack again. When he held up a bible, John Hannibal shrugged. Just because a man wasn't planning to rob somebody didn't mean he didn't find out what goods they had on them!
He sighed. "I'd never steal from a friend," he said seriously. The kid still glowered.
"OK," John Hannibal said. He put his cigarette between his lips while he ticked off one finger for each of his rules. "Rule One: don't steal from nobody unless they can afford to lose it. Rule Two: don't get greedy. Rule Three: nobody gets hurt. And the most important Rule: if things start going sour, leave the loot and get the hell out."
He shot the kid a half-smirk. "That's the one that most people screw up, which is why the law catches most of them when they try to buck authority."
The kid shot a glare back at him. "You got caught with your skunk," he said.
John Hannibal rolled his eyes. "I got caught," he said between gritted teeth, "because I gave in to my emotions and rushed it. If I'd waited a few months and let that storekeeper bully a few more people, maybe even let him find his cashier skimming out of the till, nobody would have caught on it was me."
The kid nodded. He glanced at John Hannibal from the corner of his eyes. "And nobody would ever suspect a twelve year old kid would know how to open a safe," he said.
John Hannibal hiked an eyebrow. "Nice guess," he said, "but I'm way past twelve."
"Well, I know you ain't my age yet, so that'd make you thirteen."
"I don't know what fascinates you so much about knowing my age, kid. I ain't telling you, and you'd best get used to the fact."
The kid shook his head. He looked back down the platform at the deputy. "So you rob people for a living," he muttered. "I don't know why I'm still sitting here next to you."
John Hannibal grinned. "Because you ain't been doing too good getting money so far," he said. "And because you're tired of bowing down to the kind of law that'd make it hard for a kid your age to get a decent job, but won't help him put food on his table."
The other thought about it for a minute. "I gotta say, I ain't feeling too respectful of the law right at this moment," he admitted. "There ought to have been some way somebody could have helped me take care of the other kids after our parents got killed, instead of me having to send them off to our aunt to raise."
He frowned then. "And it ain't right she's got the power to say where we live, just because I'm young. That's why I lit out, because I can't abide all her blamed rules."
He shot John Hannibal a glare. "It ain't right the law won't help people out. There ought to be something somebody could do."
John Hannibal smiled, leaning back on the bench. "That's exactly my aim, kid," he said. "I'm not 'robbing people' - I'm bucking authority and hitting them where it'll hurt the most. Ain't nobody going to listen to a couple of youngsters like us; ain't nobody going to change no laws. But by gum, we can at least get back at them."
The kid narrowed his eyes. He glanced back down the platform at the deputy. "So you're saying we should go rob them?"
John Hannibal snorted. "Hell no, that ain't nothing but a mail delivery! There's no money in those bags. No, if they had anything valuable in there, they'd likely have a better trained deputy guarding it."
He paused to shoot a glance at the kid. "Likely," he said with a smirk, "but not always."
The locomotive came into sight down the tracks, and they stood up to stretch. The kid was still staring at the mailbags, and John Hannibal could practically see the cogs turning in his head.
"Have you ever...? " he muttered without turning his head. "I mean ... like a bank, or a train?"
John Hannibal grinned. "Hell, no," he replied, "you need ... at least two people to pull off a good heist."
The kid's head whipped around. John Hannibal hiked an eyebrow and continued to grin. Slowly, an answering grin spread across the kid's face.
The train chuffed its way to a stop at the platform. As they waited for the paltry few passengers to disembark, the kid stuck out a hand toward John Hannibal.
"The name's Jed Curry," he said, "from Ellsworth."
A huge burst of steam from the locomotive's brakes made John Hannibal shout to be heard. "I'm John Hannibal," he yelled, "from ... from Hays!"
They clambered aboard and found seats. The kid ... Jed ... turned to face John Hannibal. "I didn't quite get all that," he said. "Did you say your name's Hannibal Heyes?"
John Hannibal stared at him for a long moment. It was perfect. "Kid," he replied, "that's exactly what I said."
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Date: 2011-03-07 09:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-07 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-07 04:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-10 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-07 04:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-10 03:05 am (UTC)very enjoyable
Date: 2011-03-07 07:28 pm (UTC)Re: very enjoyable
Date: 2011-03-10 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-07 08:09 pm (UTC)"The name's Jed Curry," he said, "from Ellsworth."
A huge burst of steam from the locomotive's brakes made John Hannibal shout to be heard. "I'm John Hannibal," he yelled, "from ... from Hays!"
They clambered aboard and found seats. The kid ... Jed ... turned to face John Hannibal. "I didn't quite get all that," he said. "Did you say your name's Hannibal Heyes?"
John Hannibal stared at him for a long moment. It was perfect. "Kid," he replied, "that's exactly what I said."
That was such a cute and creative way to 'name' Heyes. Loved it! :)
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Date: 2011-03-10 03:08 am (UTC)And I'm not sure he's ever going to admit his age to the Kid *smirk*
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Date: 2011-03-08 06:52 am (UTC)More, please! I, too, am looking forward to seeing what happens when they get to Colorado.
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Date: 2011-03-10 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-09 09:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-10 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-20 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-16 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-16 07:53 pm (UTC)How to Critique
Date: 2011-03-17 04:12 pm (UTC)1. Copy specific lines which bothered you
2. Explain why you didn't like those sections
3. If you know of a way to improve those sections, share it
4. End on a positive note by finding something to like - even if it is "I liked your font"
Otherwise, if you're going to leave one-word comments under an anonymous account - don't bother
fun! :)
Date: 2011-03-20 10:43 pm (UTC)Re: fun! :)
Date: 2011-03-25 06:06 am (UTC)