Chapter 3 soundtrack selection

Chapter 3 is in the can, as they say in Hollywood.  I do so hope that anybody who's reading the story will also listen to the suggested music for each chapter.  The suggested song for this chapter is "There You'll Be"  by Faith Hill.  This song would be from Evangeline's point of view, as she faces the loss of her family and is somewhat forced to move from the mourning stage to the acceptance stage, maybe before she is really ready, due to her current circumstance.  Which of course parallels Hannibal Heyes' situation as a child. Hope you enjoy it.  As always, love you, Pete.

Chapter 3

He'd hardly slept at all. His mind just wouldn't let him rest. And once, when he finally did manage to fall into a deep sleep he was awakened by Evangeline's cries for help. She was only having a nightmare, but he'd sat beside her in the light of the camp fire until she'd fallen to sleep again. She had grabbed his hand and had not relinquished her grip on it until sleep had reclaimed her. He didn't think she was even aware she had his hand in a death grip. It was four o'clock in the morning before he laid back down on his own bedroll. And now the breaking dawn was an assault on his senses.

The late September sun was blinding and already hot this early in the morning. And the sound of chirping birds and the rushing stream waters seemed so very loud. Maybe his senses were all just on high alert after yesterday's events. One good thing though. Neither the bright hot sun nor the sounds of the approaching new day were disturbing the girl. It was best if she slept. She was going to need the rest. They had some hard riding ahead of them. He was already a half day behind schedule and he needed to make up time. Besides, he really didn't want to stay in one spot too long and give anymore bandits out there the chance to finish what they'd started or take any revenge on him. It was best if they moved on and soon. Which meant he was going to have to wake her. He knew that waking to face the reality of her situation was the last thing she was going to want to do. But he was responsible for her now, at least until he got her to the sheriff's office in Red Rock, and he had to do what was best for her. And what was best was moving on....now.

He got busy breaking camp. Packing the gear, saddling his horse....making as much noise as possible. He thought waking her that way would be better than rousting her. Frequently glancing sideways from his chores, he finally caught her movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned towards her as she slowly sat up in her bed roll.

"Oh, did I wake you? I'm sorry. Just as well though, 'cause we really need to be moving on."

She squinted her gray eyes against the glaring sun to see the man standing beside his horse, securing his bed roll to the saddle. Did he say they had to be moving on? Well he could go if he wanted to, but she was staying right here. All the memories of yesterday's events flooded her mind. The last thing she remembered was crying herself to sleep in this man's arms. As miserable and wretched as she felt she still felt a little embarrassed at having spent such an intimate moment with a stranger. And a man at that. She couldn't face him or the day. She fell back into the bed roll and turned away from him, closing her eyes to shut out the light of day.

"Oh, no you don't," he mumbled under his breath as he moved towards her. If she didn't get up and face her situation now he was afraid she might not ever get up and then they'd both be in trouble.

He squatted down beside her and touched her shoulder. "Come on, time to get up."

She shifted her shoulder to sever the contact.

"Miss Webb, I know that the last thing you want to do is get up and face what's happened. And believe me I don't blame you for wanting to just lay here and not face it, but the truth is I need to be moving out soon. And I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. My partner is waiting for me in Red Rock and when I'm real late he gets nervous. And when he gets nervous he does stupid things. So to help me and my partner out I need you to get up now. Come on."

No response.

"And there's the man who's paying me to deliver some important documents to him. I've got to get those to him soon or he'll be wondering where I'm at," he continued.

Still no response.

"You know the sooner we get started the sooner we can get you to a hotel room with a soft bed and a hot bath. Doesn't that sound nice? So, come on let's get going."

Still no response.

"My silver tongue must be a might tarnished," he thought to himself. He inhaled slow and deep and then exhaled.

"Miss Webb, your mother wanted you to live. She wanted you to come with me so you could live. Don't let her dying wish be in vain because you wanna stay here and feel sorry for yourself." His voice was firm yet gentle.

That made her mad. Feel sorry for myself? Well, if anybody has a right to feel sorry for theirself it's me. But it didn't rile her enough to get her up. "With all due respect, sir, you have no idea how I feel. How could you?" She practically spat the words out. How dare he presume to know how she felt. Had he lost his family to a gang of brutal murders? Somehow she doubted it. She pulled the blanket up closer around her shoulders as if to punctuate her indignant words.

"I certainly don't mean any disrespect, ma'am, but I think every body's lost somebody they care about. So I do know a little about how you feel." He didn't bother to go into details about the killing of his own family when he was half her age, now wasn't the time for that. "In any case, I'm moving out and your coming with me. I promised your ma I'd take care of you and I intend to keep that promise."

"I don't want to go anywhere right now. Don't you understand that? Don't you have any feelings or sympathy at all?" She waited to hear some words of comfort and care from him but when they didn't come she said, " If you want to go, then go."

Now he was a little bit peeved. He sympathized with her more than any other human in the world could. But he shoved his anger aside, remembering that her loss was like a fresh open wound and his had long since become a hardened scar.

So she didn't want to go anywhere, huh? He was pretty sure he could change her mind. He didn't want to but It looked like he was going to have to resort to desperate measures.

"Well, I guess you've made up your mind then. I ain't gonna force you to go with me. So I guess I'll just be heading on out then. I'll leave you enough grub to last you a couple of days. If you eat once a day that is." He dug into his saddle bag and laid her some meager rations by the fire. " And I wouldn't let that fire go out, because in wilderness like this, a fire's about the only thing keeping hungry coyotes away." He turned back to his horse and made like he was about to mount. He expected her to stop him. She didn't. "Oh, and here." He took the rifle from his saddle. He walked back to her and crouched beside her, and reaching across her laid the weapon in front of her. "In case, those men come back. Now there's only two bullets left, so if they do come back and there's more than two of them.....well, you can decide what you'd rather do, but if I was you, a young beautiful woman, I wouldn't want to be taken alive by the likes of them." He rose and slowly made his way back towards his horse. "It's been a pleasure, ma'am. Good luck to you."

Did he think she was stupid? She knew a bluff when she heard one. And not a very good bluff at that. He wouldn't leave her out here alone. I'll just call your bluff, mister. I can lay here as long as I need to. You won't leave. Her head snapped up quick as a rattle snake strike, when she heard the sound of hooves on the hard dry ground. She got to her feet and stood disbelieving as she watched the man trot off on the back of his sorrel stallion. Panic threatened to overcome her as she faced the possibility of being out in this wilderness alone, with those men on her tail.

"Wait!"

He pulled rein bringing the magnificent beast he rode to a halt. A self congratulatory smile crossed his face before he turned the chestnut and walked him back the fifty feet to where she stood. "Yes?" he inquired in a nonchalant tone.

"I...I'll go with you." She said sheepishly, afraid to look him in the eye.

He knew he had scared her, but he also knew it had been necessary. And besides she should be scared. He had never witnessed such callous disregard for life as when he'd witnessed what that gang had done to her family. He dismounted and came to stand in front of her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. When he searched for eyes and didn't find them, he placed a gentle hand under chin and forced her to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry I had to scare you like that, but everything I said is a real possibility. Those men could be out there hunting us down as we speak. If we're going to make it off this trail in one piece, we need to keep moving at a good pace. You understand?"

She did understand, all too well. Those men were probably out there and their lives were in danger. And instead of helping the man who had saved her life, she was making things more difficult for him by acting like a spoiled brat. She had suffered a horrible tragedy and she did feel like crawling into a hole, but she also knew that this man had not asked to be put in this situation. And he didn't deserve to be burdened by a childish ninny. Her foolishness could get them both killed. She spoke softly never taking her eyes off his, "Yes I understand. I'll have to take the time to feel sorry for myself once we've gotten safely off this trail."

"Good girl. Now let's go down to the creek and get you washed up and changed. I brought you a change of clothes."

Until that moment she hadn't given any thought to how she must look. She looked down at her green skirt and white blouse. Both were covered with filth. She ran a hand across her face and through her hair. Her face felt gritty and dry, her hair felt matted with dirt and grass. She must look a fright. And she probably smelled even worse. He on the other looked like he had washed, shaved and changed into a clean shirt. For some absurd reason, it made her feel self conscious of her appearance.

"I brought you these to put on so it'll be easier for you to ride." She looked down at the towel, soap and bundle of clothes he held out to her. It was a pair of her brother's britches and one of his shirts, and a pair of socks. Tears welled up in her eyes. Poor, sweet Gabe. Her little brother was gone. She'd never hear his voice again. See his face again. She took the clothes from him and followed him silently to the creek, trying hard not to cry uncontrollably.

"I'll just wait over here while you get changed." He walked over to a large elm tree and leaned against it with his back to her to give her some privacy and still keep an eye out for trouble.

"I sure hope you know how to ride, Miss Webb. It'll sure make things a lot easier." He waited for her response. When none came he continued. "But if not we'll figure something out. I'm pretty handy on horseback and Thaddeus tells me I've got a way with animals. He says I could ride a cow and make it look like I belonged there." He smiled remembering Kid's words. "And I wasn't kidding about what I said. Those men can gain on us easy if they're really following us. We need to keep moving. That means alot of hours in the saddle. I hope your up to it. And I hope those clothes fit you. A lot easier to ride in britches than a dress. I did grab a couple of dresses too. I guess they were yours. Have you tried those britches on yet?"

When she still didn't respond he became concerned. "You alright?" he inquired over his shoulder. Finally when she still didn't answer, he cautioned a glance over his shoulder afraid he might find her in any of various stages of undress. Instead he saw her on her knees on the creek's edge still wearing the dirty green skirt and blouse, sobbing into the clothes that had been her brothers. He knew that her tough talk earlier had been just that, talk. He also knew that these bouts of crying and mourning were necessary. And he knew this one probably wasn't going to be the last. He went to her and knelt beside her.

"Oh, God, why did this happen? What am I supposed to do? I don't understand. I don't blame you if you want to leave me here. Just leave me here to die." She was babbling hysterically. He had expected it sooner or later.

He must be getting better at this damsel in distress stuff because without hesitating he pulled her into his embrace. She again cried onto his shoulder until there were no more tears, while he held her and reassured her that he wasn't leaving her anywhere and that they were in this together now. His deep voice had a lulling effect on her. It seemed to make her feel better.

"Did you bury them at least?" she choked out on a sob.

"Yes. I buried them and put markers up too."

Something inside her shifted in that moment. The naivety of girlhood had come to an end. It was time to grow up. Life as she had known it was over. What her future held she did not know. His words a few moments ago and the way he'd comforted her last night led her to believe that maybe he did know something about the loss of a loved one and being on his own. All her instincts told her she could trust him. Her mother had trusted him with her daughter. And so would she. And even if she didn't completely trust him, what choice did she have but to go with him. She was alone now. And her situation was desperate. "Desperate times call for desperate measures" her mama had always said. Neither her father nor her mother would have wanted her to sit here like a blithering lump and wait around for those bastards to find her again. No, they would want her to be brave and fight to stay alive. As much as she felt like dying, she knew this man was right. Her mother had wanted her to live. She wouldn't let her family's death be in vain. She would do her best to survive. And so she gathered up every ounce of courage she could and she released herself from his arms and stood. "I'll get changed then. And we can go."

"Alright."

"Mr.......uuummm, I'm sorry, I don't remember your name," she said as she wiped her swollen eyes and runny nose with the damp wash cloth.

"Joshua. Joshua Smith." He smiled and offered her his hand.

"Evangeline Ruth Webb." She took his hand, noticing how small hers felt when his very masculine one enveloped hers.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," he said as he tipped his hat.

"Mr. Smith, I'm sorry. I've been very rude to you this morning. And I'm sorry I pulled that gun on you last night. I wasn't sure what was going on and I didn't know if I could trust you."

"In a situation like the one we're in right now, we've got to trust each other."

"I do trust you. And I'm going to do my best to not be a burden to you, but help you get us safely to your friend in....was it Red Rock?"

"Yes. But we have to go to Alpine first on important business. That's the only reason I happen to be on this trail." He paused for a moment and once again put his hand under her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his. "If you trust me then I have to ask you to do me a favor."

"All right," she said hesitantly.

"I need you to do exactly as I say, when I say. Our lives may depend on it. Surviving out in this kind of wilderness isn't easy. You understand?"

She merely nodded. His gaze was so intense it was hard for her to form words. He seemed to be conveying words with his eyes. Eyes that were a warm liquid brown she noticed. They reminded her of the warm sorghum that her mama used to put on her biscuits. "I'll do exactly as you say, when you say," she managed to repeat. His eyes were telling her it would be even harder to survive in this kind of wilderness with a gang of murderers on their tail.

He smiled at her then, "Good. Now let's get you changed and in the saddle."

"Mr. Smith? The Bible...my family's Bible that you were reading last night...may I have it please?

"Sure. I'll go get it for you."

After having given her enough time to change, he returned to where she was and handed her the Bible. She looked at it then held it to her breast for a moment. Then she opened the well worn cover and flipped the pages until she came to the verse she was looking for. Heyes respectfully removed his hat as she began to read aloud:

Isaiah 611The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me; because the LORD hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;
2To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;
3To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.


Then she prayed. She asked God to protect them as they traveled and provide for them as He

saw fit. Heyes hadn't done much talking to The Man upstairs since he was a kid at the home. But he admired anybody who could go through what she had and still want to ask God for favors instead of blame Him.

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Now this was the life, Kid Curry thought to himself. It was a hot day here in Red Rock, but he didn't mind. He was nice and comfy here in the rocker on the shaded front porch of Big Mac's ranch house. He had arrived on the train last night and had delivered Mac's art pieces here by wagon. Now with his feet propped on the railing, a cigar in one hand, a tall glass of cold lemonade in the other, he couldn't ask for anything better. Well, not unless Heyes could be here with him. He'd felt kind of bad about riding in luxury on that train, knowing that Heyes would be riding through the hot West Texas mountains. In fact he'd almost offered to trade places with him at the last minute, but Heyes had insisted that he was kind of looking forward to some time alone, out in the middle of nowhere.

Heyes had always been like that. Drawing inside of himself sometimes. Needing to be alone with his thoughts. Kid never really knew what was going on in that nimble brain of his when he got that way. But he was always soon after, the same old Heyes again. Funny, charming, outgoing and above all the only person in the world the Kid could trust. It bothered Kid sometimes that Heyes felt so responsible for him. He recalled the first few days after their folks had been killed, a young Hannibal putting his arm around a smaller Jed's shoulder everywhere they went. "Stay close to me, Jed. I'll take care of you." And he always had. Jed had always relied on Hannibal for the answers. And Hannibal had always provided them. He supposed that's why he'd been so determined as a kid to be the best he could with his gun. So he could protect the only person he truly had left in this world. The only person he really loved and who loved him back. Each would be lost without the other and they knew it. "Nothing bad will happen as long as we're together." That's what they used to say to each other when they were kids. Only now they weren't together.

"You better make it back in one piece, Heyes. Or else I'll have to kill ya," he said out loud to himself. He wasn't really worried though. He had never met a human being who could navigate tricky terrain on horseback like Hannibal Heyes. That was another reason they decided it was better for Heyes to make the trip on horseback. He could make much better time than Kid. And it wasn't likely that he'd run into any body to give him any trouble. Supposedly, very few people if any traveled along that trail. And though Heyes was never the fast draw and perfect aim he himself was, he knew Heyes could handle a gun and shoot better than most men. In fact there wasn't anybody else he'd want defending him if he couldn't defend himself. He expected to receive a telegraph from Heyes in a couple of days saying he'd arrived safely in Alpine. Until then he'd just enjoy being the welcome house guest of Mr. Pat McCreedy. "I wonder what's for supper?" he thought to himself. Then he covered his eyes with his hat and drifted off to sleep.

The Hat

Okay, so I just got my copy of "Remembering Pete Duel"  which I purchased from the Pete Duel Memorial Site (http://www.peteduel.info/).  Bittersweet is the only word that comes to my mind right now after reading it.  But one of the main things that struck me, and kinda made me mad,  Ben Murphy said he took Pete's Hannibal Heyes hat after Pete's death......AND HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE DID WITH IT!!!!!!  That just broke my heart.  I guess I understand that that was a very small part of Ben's life and he regarded Pete as a colleague and not a friend, but geez.  I read in Cheri Thompson's "Ablaze for Heyes" blog that she would mortgage her home to have his hat, his gloves or his watch.  Amen, sister.  That hat was like a third member of the starring cast.  It had its own personality.  What a precious and invaluable memento  that hat would be to Pete's family or some deserving fan, like Laura who keeps the memorial site going.  And so I plead with you Mr. Murphy,
try to remember what you did with it, and give it the respect it deserves.  Give Pete's fans the respect they deserve by preserving this most precious of keepsakes. That's all for my soapbox tonight. I'll try to post chapter 3 tomorrow for anybody who might be reading.  As always, love you, Pete.




Due to the popularity of this particular post, I've included a picture of the beloved hat being worn by our beloved Hannibal Heyes, played extraordinarily by our beloved Pete Duel.

Peace and love to everybody, and thanks for stopping by.
Karen :')


Dear Fellow Pete fan,
I'm updating this post on December 31, 2011, the 40th anniversary of Peter's death.  After visiting the Pete Duel Memorial Site today, I've learned that the original Hannibal Heyes hat, THE HAT, the one with the tatters and holes that Peter wore on the show, the one that we all hold so dear, is in the safe keeping of his brother, Geoff.   Please go to the Pete Duel Memorial Site at http://www.peteduel.info/?page_id=1113 to read the story and to leave a word of thanks to Geoffrey Deuel and his wife for sharing this priceless piece of our hero with Laura and the rest of us.

Peace and love,
Karen :')

Okay, so here's chapter 2.  Is anybody out there?  Is anybody reading this besides me?  If so, I'd appreciate a comment even if it's to say "this sucks."  And if not, oh well,  I really only write this for myself.  I think maybe I'm exorcising a demon or something when I write.  And a big thank you to my friend who shall here after be referred to as T-bone for all of her invaluable input and editing assistance.  And if anybody is reading this, please be a follower,  just to make me feel good about myself.  And as always, love you, Pete.

Chapter 2

Evangaline Ruth Webb. That was her name. She was the 19 year old daugther of Nathanial Webb and Lillian Sanders-Webb. In fact she had just turned 19 today. Gabriel William had been their 13 year old son. He had carved their names hastily onto crosses he'd made from tree branches tied together with hemp rope he'd found in the wagon. He'd found their names in a family Bible. He deeply regretted not being able to bury them in more proper graves. But the ground had been hard and dry and he could only dig down a couple of feet. But there had been plenty of good rocks around to make decent mounds over the bodies. At least they wouldn't be left for animals and buzzards to feast on. He'd left the dead bandit for that. He knew he really should have at least covered the body with rocks but time just didn't permit it. And with three of those bandits still out there, he wasn't taking any chances on being out in the open for very long so the shallow mounded graves of their victims would have to suffice.


 He had killed one of them and wounded two of them but one had gotten away clean - the one with the ring master's outfit - and he had no idea how badly the other two were hurt. Maybe just bad enough to get them good and mad and ready to find him and get some payback. And he and the girl had been like fish in a barrel at the bottom of that valley. Heyes' instincts had screamed at him to scoop up the girl, throw her across the tethered mule and high tail it out of there. And that's just what he did. After securing the girl to the one bare backed mule that was grazing nearby, he quickly grabbed anything that may be of use to them. All their belongings lay scattered on the ground. He took a couple of blankets and inside them he bundled some food, extra clothes for the girl and some eating and cooking utensils. In a last minute decision he grabbed a stack of books strapped together and a silk drawstring bag. He didn't know why he grabbed them, well the books for purely selfish reasons he supposed, but the bag....something just told him to take it. He secured the items to his saddle, mounted up and rode out hard and fast, leaving behind the dead. Keeping his eyes alert for trouble, he rode out of the valley staying close to the dense forest then crossed the small range that was on the opposite side of the valley from where he had ridden in. It took two hours to cross that small mountain range. If the girl had been conscious it probably would have taken three or four. The sun was sinking fast and the animals were exhausted after that hard ride over the mountain range. She was probably going to have some sore ribs tomorrow. But at least she would be alive. He stopped by a creek that was flowing out of the Pecos river and set up camp. He sat by the fire now, watching the girl as she lay on a blanket on the opposite side of the fire.

She was beginning to regain consciousness. He had been mentally preparing himself for that moment when it came. He was expecting her to be hysterical, confused and maybe even a little violent. He rose from where he sat and went to kneel beside her. He sat back on his heels, waiting for the hysterics to start.

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She had been awake for about half an hour. But she hadn't let him know it. When he wasn't staring at her she had been watching him through half closed eyes from behind her veil of hair. Who was he? Was he one of those mean sons of bitches that had hurt her and her family? She couldn't recall what all of them had looked like. But he just didn't look like a killer. In fact, when she had first regained consciousness he'd been leaning over her. She'd opened her eyes just enough to see his face. It was such a beautiful face she thought for a brief second God had answered her prayer and he was an angel sent to take her to heaven. Then she realized it was dark. Then all the memories of what had happened flooded back over her and she became afraid and knew instantly this was not heaven, nor was it hell. So she was still alive. Had he saved her? He must have. But how could she be sure. The creepy circus man had let her know that no harm would come to her. She was no good to him if she was soiled in any way. So maybe this man was one of them and he was in charge of keeping her virtue in tact. But if that were so, where were the rest of them? And where was her family? This one man couldn't possibly have killed all four of the bad men and ridden off to safety with her? Could he? Her survival instincts were really kicking in now and she had to come up with a plan. The six shooter strapped to his hip hadn't escaped her attention. And all she had to do was get him close enough and she would grab it and find out just what the heck was going on. Yep it was time for her to wake up for real.

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He must be exhausted. That's the only excuse for what he had just allowed to happen. Now he was staring down the barrel of his own gun. One second he was leaning over the girl's supine body waiting for her to come completely awake, and the next she was on her feet holding his own gun on him. Dammit!! It wasn't like him to be this stupid. The Kid would have been really disappointed if he'd been here. Now he was going to have to put his silver tongue to use and talk his way out of this before she shot first and asked questions later. 

"How do you do, Evangeline? My name's Joshua Smith." He hoped using her name would let her know he was a friend and not an enemy. He stayed there on his heels, hands in the air so she wouldn't feel threatened. He knew all too well that a wounded animal was the most dangerous. She might not be wounded physically, but mentally she had to be a mess.

"Where are we? Where's my family?" She cocked the pistol as she spoke. 

"We're about 20 miles south of where your family was camped."

"How'd I get here?"

"I brought you."

"All by yourself?"

He nodded with a somber "umm hmm."

Still gripping the cocked and loaded weapon with both hands, she scanned her surroundings, searching for anything familiar. The small campfire didn't provide enough light for her to see if they were really alone. Her eyes narrowed and she stared at him with suspicion. She took in his appearance. While he did sport a heavy five o'clock shadow, he didn't have the scraggily week old beards the other villians had had. And the four men who'd attacked her family had reeked so strongly of sour whiskey, urine and unwashed backsides that she could smell them from a good distance. The only thing she smelled now was coffee over the fire. He must have saved her. But how did she know what his intentions were. He could be a ruthless outlaw who happened upon another gang of outlaws and decided he wanted her for himself. She had to be cautious.

"You're not with them." The way she said it let him know she realized he wasn't part of that ruthless gang.

"No. I'm not one of them." 

But she still didn't trust him and she said as much.

"I don't trust you."

"That's understandable. But I promise you I mean you no harm, Evangeline, I want to help you."

"How do you know my name?"

"I've been reading the records in your family Bible." He motioned toward the Bible laying near his bed roll on the opposite side of the fire.

There was nothing here familiar to her except the brown mule grazing nearby and that Bible.
"What else did you steal?"

Heyes could only shake his head in disbelief. How absurd it was that she would be worried about her possessions when her family lay murdered a few miles away. He realized then that she didn't fully understand that her family was dead.

Heyes slowly started to rise to his feet, keeping his hands high.

"Don't move!"

He stood in front of her now with his hands still raised. "Evangeline, I'm....

"Don't call me that! You don't know me! I don't know you!"

"Alright, alright," he said in a voice as calm and soothing as he could make it. "Miss Webb,I didn't steal anything. I took you and a few things I thought you might need and I rode us out of there real fast." 

She lowered the gun slightly. She looked around, confused as if she might take off running. So now was when the hysteria would probably start, he thought.

"I promised your mother I would take care of you."

Her head shot up and a flash of several different emotions crossed her face in one moment. Anger, confusion and despair. "You talked to my mother?"

"Yes."

"When?" She eyed him suspiciously.

He didn't know how to say it without just blurting it out. So he didn't say anything. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly then looked deeply into her silvery blue eyes and tried to tell her without words that he'd spoken to her mother just before she died. She lowered the gun slightly and stared him straight in the eye. His dark and innocent eyes spoke volumes. "She's dead isn't she?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes."

"Where's my daddy and my brother!" She was starting to scream at him now. 

Gripping the gun with both hands she stepped closer to him and aimed it directly into his face. "Where are they!" 

He looked briefly down at the ground and again directly into her eyes to convey words without speaking. And she understood better than if he'd shouted, "They're both dead." 

The instinct for survival evaporated like water on the desert. The gun fell from her hands and landed with a thud on the ground. What did it matter now if he killed her? Everything she loved was gone. Deep down she had known the truth, had known they wouldn't survive even in the midst of the attack. She slowly sank to her knees in front of him. And then collapsed into a sobbing heap on the bed roll he'd laid her on earlier.

 Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs. Heyes rubbed his face with his hands and inwardly cursed. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. This was the Kid's department. After reholstering his gun, he reached out and touched her shoulder his heart hurting for her. He knew from experience there were no words that would bring her comfort. But just knowing someone was there might. He was struck with a memory of his 10 year old self and an almost 9 year old Jed clinging to each other after their families had been killed. And not just physically did they cling to each other, but emotionally, mentally and spiritually. And they'd been clinging to each other ever since. He supposed that's why they had never been able to be separated from each other for very long at a time. They shared a bond that most people could never and would never understand. And now this young woman was experiencing the same loss, but she didn't have a Jed to cling to. And his heart went out to her. So he just sat there with her while she cried herself out. When the sobbing had subsided to just snuffles, she looked up at him and again they communicated without words but with their eyes. His saying, "I'm here. You can trust me." Her's saying "What do I do now? How do I go on?" He was all too familiar with the questions that were racing through her head right now. And he wished he had answers for her, but the truth was no one had answers for him when he'd lost his family, and so he had none for her. Acting again on instinct, he gathered her in his arms and held her. And she let him, clearly understanding now that he had been the one who had saved her life and had tried to save her family. Needing the comfort of a human touch, she clung to him just like he and Kid had clung to each other. He held her like a child and stroked her hair and her back as he gently rocked her. Neither spoke. He didn't know how much time had passed as he sat there holding her, but eventually her snuffling stopped and her rhythmic breathing told him she had fallen asleep. He gently laid her back on her bed roll and covered her with a blanket. Returning to his own bed roll on the opposite side of the fire, he lay on his side and watched her sleep. It was a long time before he found sleep himself.
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He had to come up with a plan. Sleep would not come until he came up with a plan. He'd always been like that. Once his mind started working on something, he had to keep at it until he had it worked out. He used to drive the Kid crazy when he was planning a job. He couldn't help it though. When he was planning he had to run it by the Kid. Even if that meant waking him up in the middle of the night. Only problem was, the Kid was almost two hundred miles away in Red Rock and he was here in the middle of nowhere alone. Well, not exactly alone. For the first time in his life he was responsible for another human being. Except for the Kid of course. He and the Kid had always been responsible for each other. How would the Kid feel about having to help him watch after a young girl? He smiled at that thought. Who was he kidding? Kid Curry had never turned down the chance to help a damsel in distress. He'd probably take over when he brought the girl to Red Rock. And he would let him. He'd let Kid coddle her and pamper her, while he took care of the hard stuff. That's the way it was supposed to be. The way it had always been. They both assumed their respective roles with ease after all these years. First he'd find out if she had any family and then he'd send word for them to come and collect her. Or he'd send her to them. Either way, the sooner she was with family of her own the better off she'd be. And the better off he and the Kid would be. But what if she didn't have any family? Then what? He had to consider that possiblity. He and the Kid had had nobody after their folks had been killed. And they'd ended up in that overcrowded orphanage. He wouldn't let that happen to her. She was too old to be in an orphanage anyway, but not too old to end up a whiskey soaked saloon girl depending on strange men for her next drink. No, he would not let that happen to her. He didn't just kill a man and risk his own life to save her just to have her end up a drunk floosy in a bar. Who knew how differently his life and the Kid's would have turned out if there had been somebody to help them make decisions and choices. Maybe they wouldn't be former outlaws ducking from posses and lawmen, hoping against hope that the governor of Wyoming would grant them amnesty. But first things first. He had to finish this job for Mac. And she'd have to come with him. Then when they got to Red Rock he and the Kid would decide together what their next move was. All this would have to be reported to the sheriff and that was something he had to talk over with his partner. And one thing was absolutly sure...they could not live a life ducking from the law, sleeping in the outdoors, running from possees and looking over their shoulders with a young woman hanging onto thieir shirt tails. He'd keep his promise to her mother. He'd see her safely in the hands of family or the authorities and then he and the Kid would be on their way. Simple, clean and easy.

He studied her sleeping form on the bed roll on the other side of the fire. He'd covered her with a blanket and all he could see of her was her hair spilling out across the sandy ground. And what hair it was. Even in her dissheveled and unclean state he could see that her hair was glorious. It was thick and lusterous and hung just past her waist. If it were clean and brushed he was sure it would be prettier even that Clem's hair, and Clementine Hale had beautiful hair. In the firelight it looked like rich brown silk. She obviously looked like her father. Her mother, even in death had been an extrodinarily beautiful woman. But she had had golden blonde hair with sun washed streaks of white through it. And her complexion had been paler. Her form slighter. Almost pixy like. Her daughter was taller, darker and more curvascious than she had been. The eyes were different too. Mrs. Webb's eyes had been the same blue as the Kid's. Like a piece of the sky resting in milk. But this girl's eyes were the color of an approaching thunderstorm. 

She'd been through so much. How was he to know if she even wanted to go with him. Then again what choice did she have? He knew she'd be feeling lost and alone when the reality of her situation sank in and she'd probably be more than willing to let someone else make all her decisions for her. For the time being anyway. And he had promised her mother he would take care of her. And so he would. He knew from their family records that Mr. and Mrs. Webb had both been born in Tennessee and both of their children in Texas. But he had no clue if they still had family in Tennessee or here in Texas. Or if family was waiting for them west of here, which was the direction they had obviously been headed according to the tracks their wagon had left. Hopefully he'd find all that out over the next week. That's how long he figured it would take to get to Red Rock. At least four more days ride to Alpine, if not longer, depending on how well she could ride and her state of mind. And he figured a day to rest before another two days ride to Buckton, then a days ride on the stage. So, seven days to get to know Evangaline Webb. And seven days for that SOB in the circus clothes to find them. Since they'd ridden toward the east and he and the girl had headed southwest over the mountains he was hoping they had seen the last of them. But he was not going to let his guard down. Not until he and his new companion were safe in Red Rock with the Kid.

Evangeline ~ A Hannibal Heyes Love Story Chapter 1

He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He, Hannibal Heyes, had just lost a coin toss to Kid Curry. Never in their long years of friendship and outlawing had he ever lost a coin toss to his fast drawing friend. Now, he had used a trick coin on a couple of those occasions but mostly he used a regular coin and relied on his own uncanny good luck to bring about the desired outcome. But today he had lost.

"Well, Heyes, there's a first time for everything! WOO HOOO!!" The Kid was practically dancing a jig in the street of Roswell, New Mexico to celebrate his victory.

Heyes stood there with a confused look on his face, still not able to believe it. He looked back and forth from the coin facing tails up on the back of his hand to his friend, still dancing in the street. "Yeah, it's too bad that Briggs isn't around today, he'd be real happy with that jig your dancing." 

Kid stopped and frowned at the mention of the old foe he'd had to put in his place those few months ago. But then a smile crossed his face and his blue eyes twinkled as he knew his lifelong friend and partner was just a little miffed at having been bested on a coin toss. "Now, Heyes," Kid said as he slapped his partner on the shoulder, "don't let it eat at ya. Maybe you're just losin' your touch in your old age. Or maybe my luck is changin'. Either way, I'm escorting Big Mac's property on the train, while you will have ' a 10 day ride to the middle of nowhere on horseback, through wild and hostile country.' I believe that's how Big Mac put it anyway." 

The Big Mac he spoke of was their old friend Big Mac McCreedy. Mac had purchased several valuable pieces of art in San Francisco that were being delivered here to Roswell and he wanted one of the boys to see that the valuables were placed safely on the train and escorted to his home in Red Rock, while the other delivered the certificates of authenticity and the bills of sale to him personally. He was out in the wilderness of southwest Texas, where trains and stagecoaches didn't go and few people did. Apparently Mac had also purchased land out there for the sole purpose of selling it to the railroad at a ridiculous profit, and he was out there to meet with the railroad company. Heyes was to meet Mac in the small town of Alpine. Why he needed the documents delivered there neither of the boys knew, and they didn't really care. He was offering them $1,000 to complete both tasks. Heyes had been sure he would be the one riding on that train in comfort while the Kid had to ride out and meet Mac. But fate, as it turned out, had other plans.

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She couldn't feel anything anymore. Her body had gone numb. Her mind too. She sat in a heap on the ground. Her eyes were open but saw nothing anymore. She could hear the movement around her. Knew they were still there, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. Everything she had, everything she knew and loved was gone. What would it feel like when she died? When they killed her? At least she hoped they would kill her. The alternative was to be taken away with them. That would be far worse than death. "Don't worry, no harm will come to you. I need you unblemished," he'd said to her. But she didn't believe it. She knew a fate worse than death awaited her. Somewhere in the distance she heard a shot ring out. This was it. She would feel it slug into her body any second and it would all be over. She closed her eyes and waited but it never came. Instead she felt the breeze of something as it fell swiftly to the ground beside her and then the spray of dust and debris that spattered her face and hair as it hit the ground with a thud. Then there was more gunfire and the sound of horses riding off fast. Then more gun shots. Why wasn't she dead? She would welcome the sweet release of it. But it never came. "God, please just let me die. Send an angel to take me away from here," was her last prayer before she fell into a dead faint.

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Heyes had been in the saddle for three days. He had traveled by stage from Roswell to Carlsbad, while the Kid headed southwest on a three day train ride to Red Rock. From Carlsbad Heyes headed southeast toward Pecos, Texas on horseback. It had only taken him two days to reach Pecos, the first of the only two towns on the trail he was taking into southwest Texas. The second was the town of Alpine where he was to meet Mac. The route Heyes was taking into Alpine followed a trail that would move south with the Pecos river on the east and the Davis mountains on the west. Folks in these parts called it the Trans-Pecos. It was a desert caught between lush mountain forests and the rolling rapids of the river. There were plenty of creeks and branches coming out of the Pecos, which stretched all the way to the southwest Texas border where it connected to the Rio Grande. So he planned to follow the course of the river to assure he and his horse had plenty of water for drinking and bathing. And the shade of the trees that grew along its banks would provide shade when the heat of the day got too hot. He was now descending the last part of a small mountain range that marked the beginning of the Davis Mountains. It had taken him a whole day to cross it.

It had been a dangerous trail over that mountain, but he'd gotten a fresh horse back in Pecos and it was a good sturdy chestnut stallion that had handled the trail with ease. He hadn't encountered a single person since he'd left Pecos. That was a good thing. One thing Hannibal Heyes had learned in the last few years, if you were a wanted man, sometimes it was best to be alone. Especially if the word "wanted" was followed by the words "DEAD OR ALIVE." He had another three days ride to get to Alpine and then another two days ride northwest to Buckton where he'd take a stage to Mac's ranch which was near Fort Hancock on the Mexican border. The Kid would be waiting there for him. It would be a long lonely ride, and he wondered what the Kid was doing about now. Enjoying a cigar in the gentlemen's car? Or flirting with a pretty lady that was aboard the train? Probably the latter he decided as he smiled to himself. If there was a pretty lady within 10 miles, Kid always found her, or she seemed to find him. The Kid would be arriving in Red Rock this evening. Heyes had conceded his loss of the coin toss with great sportsmanship and was now sort of glad he'd lost. He was enjoying the beautiful scenery and the absence of sheriffs and marshalls for a while. He'd bought a couple of dime novels back in town and was looking forward to some peaceful nights of reading by the campfire. He was almost to the end of the mountain trail. He could tell by the change in the terrain and the temperature. It was getting warmer, and the ground flatter. Even though it was late September it was still west Texas and that meant hot. When he rounded the last ridge, he saw in front of him a breathtaking valley that stretched out for several miles and was about a quarter of a mile wide, with dense pine forest coming down off the mountain on either side to the north and south. He stopped for a moment to enjoy the beauty of this place. He took in a deep breath. Ah, fresh air, wildflower, pine... and.... what was that other smell.....was it fried chicken? Someone must be camped in the valley. Maybe he was going to meet up with some folks after all. He descended further down and around the last outcropping of rocks very slowly and cautiously. The campsite came into view several hundred yards away. What he saw made him gasp.

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Hannibal Heyes had witnessed a lot in his 29 years. Especially when half of those years had been spent among thieves and outlaws of all sorts. But what he witnessed now was gruesome and just plain wrong. Forget what he had said about being glad he was out here alone. If he ever needed the speed and accuracy of his gunslinging partner, it was now. Heyes took in the scene from the cover of some fallen boulders. There was a campsite down there and there was something cooking over the rock enclosed fire. One man was crouched near that fire stuffing the contents of the frying pan into his face. Another man was busy pilfering through the contents of a covered wagon, tossing things out onto the ground. A third man was rutting on top of a screaming fighting woman. Heyes slowly and quietly dismounted and lead his horse into the cover of the dense forest and crept closer to the scene. He was horrified. Two men, one which didn't appear to be more than 12 or 13 years old, not a man then but a boy, were tied to the wheels of the wagon. The boy was unconscious or dead. The man was going in and out of consciousness, both their faces bloody mangled messes. The woman was slowly losing her will to fight as she unsuccessfully struggled with the much stronger man who was having his way with her. Then he saw the girl.

 She was sitting in a heap at the feet of a tall skinny man. He was talking to her but he was too far away to hear what he said. Heyes was struck momentarily by the outlandish clothes the man was wearing. He had on what appeared to be a circus ring master's outfit. Striped pants, ruffled shirt, faded purple top coat and tails, all in bad need of washing. He even sported a tattered top hat. Heyes filed that information in the back of his keen mind and continued with his assessment of the situation. The girl seemed to be in a daze. Shock no doubt. "Well, Kid, if you were here you would have already unloaded two full loads on 'em and been looking for a nice place to burn the bodies," Heyes thought to himself. But he was always the cautious one. Thinking things out before he acted. But what was there to think about? He had two choices. He could wait them out, just stay hidden until they had tired of their "fun," and then go see if there were survivors, or he could start shooting from the cover of the trees and maybe save some body's life. And maybe get himself killed in the process. It looked like only two of them had guns. But still it was four against one and he didn't like those odds. Never bet on a long shot. That was the Hannibal Heyes philosophy. And he didn't have the Kid here to back him up. "What would you do, Kid, if you were in my boots?" he thought to himself. He knew what the Kid would do. But he wasn't Jedediah Curry. He was Hannibal Heyes. He had never killed a man in his life. Didn't believe in killing. But what was he doing to those people down there if he didn't do something. He was killing them wasn't he. And with that in mind he headed back to the outcropping of rocks he'd passed at the base of the mountain. 

From here he could pick them off from above before they could figure out where he was. He was no Kid Curry with a gun, but he darn sure could hit a sitting duck and that's what they all were. They were off guard and he was in close enough range to be accurate. With his Smith and Wesson loaded and ready he climbed onto the top of a flat boulder, lay on his belly, and aimed. He knew he had to take out the two with guns first but he only saw one of them. The other was still in the covered wagon. But he knew he was running out of time or these people were goners. His nimble mind made out the plan and in seconds his body was putting it into action. The first shot plugged the visible gunman, who was stuffing his face with food, in his shooting arm. The one defiling the woman jumped up and turned toward the gunfire. Heyes caught him in the leg. Then the second gunman appeared and jumped out of the wagon, and seeing where the gunfire was coming from, aimed his rifle in Heyes' direction and fired. Heyes kept his head down and waited for the gunman's rifle to empty, reloading while he waited. When the volley of gunfire ended he took aim again and shot the gunman. His aim was too high. He had meant to shoot him in the shoulder but he caught the bandit in the neck. He fell to the ground with a thud and raised a cloud of dust and debris. By now the remaining wounded villains and the tall skinny one were speeding east on horseback. He quickly aimed and squeezed the trigger emptying the last five rounds.

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How quickly things changed. How much time had passed since he had been daydreaming about a quiet night of reading by the fireside? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. And in those few minutes his situation and his life had changed. All his senses were on full alert as he slowly and cautiously rode into the campsite, his reloaded gun drawn and ready. He dismounted to begin the unwanted task of checking the victims for signs of life. First he collected the fallen gunman's rifle, and gave him a quick check, and just as he'd thought... he was dead. His jugular severed by the bullet. He had killed a man. He'd have to process that later. Right now he had other things to worry about. He checked the boy first. He was dead. Blood had run from his ears, nose and mouth and stained his shirt completely red. He'd been beaten to death. The man also was gone. He'd been dealt a crushing blow to the head from the butt of a rifle. He was moving to check the girl when he heard the woman moan. He ran to her and dropped down beside her. He gently held her face in his hands. 

"Ma'am, can you hear me?"

Her eyes opened slightly, "Where are my children?" Her voice was weak and raspy. She had been choked with a strip of rawhide from the look of the marks on her neck. A gurgling noise came up from her throat and then she began to cough and spit up blood. Her wind pipe had been crushed. Her skirts were pushed up around her waist, her bloomers were ripped, tattered and bloody. Heyes could tell from the condition of her lower body she had been repeatedly abused by these ruthless bastards. She was bleeding to death. He pulled her skirts down to cover her.

"They're here ma'am. They're fine," he lied. 

She tried to rise to a sitting position but the task proved too much for her tortured body and she slumped back to the ground. Heyes grabbed a blanket that had been thrown out of the wagon and folded it into a pillow to place under her head. There was fear in her eyes as they darted back and forth in search of something. 

"Don't worry about those cut throats, ma'am. They hightailed it out of here. They won't be back."

 Again she tried to speak only to choke on a mouthful of blood. "Don't try to speak," he said.

But she had to speak, she had to try. With a gurgled sputter she uttered her last words to Hannibal Heyes. "Please take care of my children," she managed to choke out. But it was in her eyes he could see all that she was unable to say. 

"I promise," he told her. 

With a final look from her blue eyes she silently mouthed the words "thank you" and died.

He rose slowly feeling a little numb. Had he saved any of them? Three of them were dead and he was almost afraid to check on the girl. He took a deep breath and walked toward her. He couldn't see her face hidden behind her tangled mass of hair, and he was afraid that maybe he didn't want to. If they had done to her the things they had done to the others.....he didn't even finish that thought. Instead he lowered his head to her breast and listened for a heart beat. And there it was...steady and strong. SHE WAS ALIVE!!! Immediately he began shoving the mass of hair from her face. There wasn't a mark on her face or neck. He pulled up her skirts, checking everywhere for signs of trauma or injury. There was none. She still had on her lily white bloomers. She had fainted. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he heard the air escape his own lungs. He had saved one of them. And those heathens hadn't had a chance to take turns with her yet. Now he had some big decisions to make. And a promise to keep. "Well, Kid, I hope you're a patient man, cause I'm gonna be late meetin' ya at Red Rock."

Before I post the first chapter of my story I feel compelled to  say a few things first.   Most importantly I want to thank Peter Deuel for being the wonderful person and the gifted actor that he was.  Without his genius and magnificent character, Hannibal Heyes, I would have no story.  So, thank you, Peter.  You will forever remain the love of my life, even though I was only 4 years old when you left this world.

Second I would just like to say that it is a very difficult thing to share a story you have authored with any one else.  It is such a personal and intimate thing.  It's like putting your deepest secrets and fantasies out there for everyone to read.  I never realized what a hard job novelist have. To have something that your mind and spirit have labored  over and given birth to, be exposed for the world to see and criticize is not an easy thing to do.  But if it is not shared then no one can see its beauty either. 

Third,  I would just like to say that this is my first attempt at writing anything.  I am not a writer.  I am just a fan.  I love these characters and because of the untimely and tragic death of Peter, I (like many other fans I'm sure) feel that I was cheated somehow out of so many more stories.  I want more.  And so it is left to us, the fans, to continue the stories.  My hats off to the many talented fan fiction authors out there whose stories I have read.  You all amaze me.  I hope my story turns out half as good.  I have been working on it for about six months and it is becoming quite long.  But it had to be long in order to tell the complete story and give my characters time to develop.  I just hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it (and am still writing).  Again I would like to say that I am not a writer and this is all new to me.  I am just a fan with a story I want to share. 

And last, I would like to encourage you to listen to the soundtrack music I have picked for the story.  Many of the events in the story bring to mind a song.  And I will add the title of the song and a web address where you can go to YouTube and watch a video of the song.  And please keep in mind that while this is an AS&J fanfic, it is a romance. So the music is somewhat romantic as well.

I look forward to your comments.
 God's blessings and much love to you all,  Karen.

P.S.  Before you read chapter 1, please read the prologue.  You can find it in the March archives.