Chapter Text
Junction City, New Mexico Territory, May 29th, 1882
Paula Wellington rode into the pretentiously named little town of Junction City, New Mexico—it did, in fact, boast a rail junction, but otherwise was more of a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere— alone, mounted on a black Arabian mare bred on her own ranch four years earlier. In a pocket in her bodice reposed a letter from Richard Bancroft, Counsellor-at-Law, addressed to Judge James R. Hanley and Attorney Chester Brubaker, both of Junction City. She had been carrying the letter since she, Hannibal Heyes, and Kid Curry had left Telluride, Colorado at the end of March, with instructions from Richard, now their friend as well as their officially retained lawyer, to hand-deliver it to Junction City as soon as could be managed. That had been almost three months ago; it was now Monday, the 29th of May.
On Richard’s advice after he had heard the story of their relations with Judge Hanley, Heyes and Kid were waiting outside the town for Paula to bring them word as to whether Judge Hanley would agree to see them. The last time he had spoken to them, he had suggested that he never expected to see them again, and though they subsequently had been in contact with Brubaker by express messenger, to request his legal assistance in defending Matt and Bess Tapscott, they had not ventured to return to Junction City until now.
She swung down in front of the small courthouse building, which appeared to also house several offices, and smoothed the skirt of her well-worn but still neat riding habit. The matching dark blue bodice was in considerably better condition, and she hoped that she appeared business-like enough for the judge’s clerk, not to mention the judge, to take her seriously.
*** *** ***
Bruce Carothers, the young man who served Judge Hanley as a confidential clerk while pursuing his legal studies through a correspondence course, came into the judge’s chambers, rather excited. “Judge, there’s a lady outside, says she wants to see you on a confidential matter. She’s nicely dressed and very pretty, but I’ve never seen her before—she’s not from around here, that’s for sure. Here’s her card.”
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The older man replied, “Well, show her in, boy. Now you have me curious.” He glanced at the card, then rose as his visitor entered, a sealed letter in her hand. “Please take a seat, Miss Wellington, and let me know how I can serve you.”
“Thank you, Judge,” she replied, and seated herself in the chair he had indicated, trying to conceal a certain amount of inward trepidation. The boys’ safety depended on how well she discharged her errand. “It’s a rather complicated matter, and quite confidential, as your clerk intimated. Before we go any further, I should tell you that I am the bearer of a letter addressed to both you and Mr. Chester Brubaker. I am instructed to ask if he can be included in this discussion.”
Intrigued, Judge Hanley rose from his seat and walked to the door. “So you are acting as an emissary, Miss Wellington?” She nodded as he opened the door and called to his clerk. “Bruce, would you ask Mr. Brubaker to come here as soon as may be? Tell him there is a lady asking to meet with both of us on a confidential matter. Take this,” he added, handing over the visiting card. “And…,” he glanced back at his visitor. “May I send over to the café for some coffee for you? Or tea, if you prefer?”
“That’s very kind of you,” she responded. “Hot tea would be marvellous, if it can be obtained.”
“You hear, Bruce? Hot tea for the lady, and coffee for Brubaker and me.”
“Sure thing, Judge.” The young clerk was out the door on the instant. He returned in a very short space of time with Chester Brubaker on his heels and showed him in. “The tea and coffee will be here in a few minutes.”
“Excellent. When it comes, bring it in yourself, and then see to it we’re not disturbed, if you please.”
Brubaker was shaking hands with Miss Wellington. She smiled up at him. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Brubaker. I have heard very good reports of your legal talents.”
The lawyer was astonished. It was useful to have a good reputation in one’s profession, but on the other hand, he could not imagine how this woman, living on a horse ranch in northern Colorado according to her card, from Great Britain by her speech, could have heard anything useful about him. His practice normally did not extend far outside the environs of Junction City, except for one unusual case not quite two years before, which had taken him to the town of Hadleyburg, also in New Mexico. His eyes rested on the striking flame-colored gem[1] on the third finger of her left hand, and he wondered who the fortunate man might be.
They chatted lightly, Paula telling them about the horse ranch she and her brother had settled under the provisions of the Homestead Act ten years earlier, until the clerk brought in a tray with tea, coffee, cream, sugar, and a stack of cups, then left, shutting the door behind him.
“Now, Miss Wellington,” said the judge encouragingly, “Mr. Brubaker and I are ready to give you our undivided attention.”
“I appreciate it, gentlemen,” she replied. “About two years ago, you had two men in your jail here, wanted for bank and train robbery in Wyoming. Before extradition papers could arrive, you set bail for them, Judge, equivalent to the cash they had available, and released them, saying that you never expected to see them again, or words to that effect.”
“That would have been Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. I remember them quite well.” Hanley was nodding. A smile crossed Brubaker’s face as he recalled how much he had enjoyed defending the court case in Hadleyburg at the request of those same two bank and train robbers, and how much they had paid him to handle the case—far more than his usual fee. This conversation would not be dull if it had anything to do with that pair.
“As it happens,” Miss Wellington continued, “they have retained Mr. Richard Bancroft, of Telluride, Colorado, to be their regular attorney, without any prejudice intended towards their prior relationship with you, Mr. Brubaker. Mr. Bancroft offered his legal services at the request of a mutual friend. In view of the fact that both of you gentlemen are in the legal profession and are somewhat familiar with the terms of the amnesty promised to Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry by Governor Hoyt in the Territory of Wyoming, Mr. Bancroft hopes that a professional relationship can be established between the three of you which will prove to be of benefit to his clients. He has written a letter to both of you which I understand discusses that in some detail.” She laid the letter on the table in front of her.
“Mr. Bancroft thought that it would be better if you were to discuss with his clients in person some of the matters he raises in his letter. I’ve been asked to ascertain whether you will agree to meet with Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry,” she looked from one man to the other gravely, “and whether you will promise them safe conduct so that the meeting may take place. They are waiting in a safe place for me to carry your answer to them.”
Judge Hanley glanced briefly at the lawyer, who nodded. “We would be delighted to welcome Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry here, as soon as may be convenient to them, and you and they have my word, Miss Wellington,” he said, looking seriously into her deep blue eyes, “that they will be safe.”
“You have my word as well,” added Brubaker. “In any case, they are still retaining me as counsel and I would do nothing to endanger that relationship. The only other man in town who would know them by sight is our sheriff’s deputy, Johnny Miller. He was present at the jail when they were arrested and got a good look at them. However, he’s out of town just now, visiting family, and is expected to be gone for another ten days.”
“If young Mr. Miller returns unexpectedly, I will deal with that,” Hanley assured her. “But, as Brubaker says, currently he is out of town. Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry can come openly into town and register at the hotel—though I would advise not using their real names.”
“Sheriff Lom Trevors of Porterville, Wyoming, who has been handling their communications with the governor, gave them aliases,” she replied. “They’ve been using the names Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones ever since.” She made a move to rise.
“Just a moment,” said the judge. “Before you go, I presume to take Heyes and Curry the message and bring them back with you, I have a couple of questions, if you have the answers and don’t mind telling me.”
“Of course.” Miss Wellington looked from one to the other, her expression reserved and her eyes wary.
Yes, thought Hanley. She obviously knows them quite well and has spent considerable time in their company. But how on earth did a lady such as she get mixed up in this? “The first question,” he continued aloud, “is about the amnesty offer. I understand it was intended to be kept secret, and they couldn’t tell me about it when they were here, but you mentioned it openly, probably to save them the embarrassment of explaining that they couldn’t discuss it.” She nodded. “Do you know exactly when that offer was made to them?”
“In late October of ’seventy-nine,” she replied readily.
“And did the governor mention any particular period of time?”
“My understanding is that he said ‘about a year’. Of course, that was well over two years ago now.” She kept her voice carefully neutral.
“Two years and seven months!” exclaimed the judge. “That’s—that’s unconscionable!” He looked at Brubaker. “I think I can guess some of the things Counsellor Bancroft would like to discuss with us. It’s very possible that a lawyer could be of assistance to them now … not to mention a judge.”
“Yes, your honour,” said Paula softly. She slipped her handkerchief out and quickly dried her eyes, which had unexpectedly filled with tears. Richard Bancroft’s instincts had not been wrong. Judge Hanley, a man of honor in more ways than one, was proving to be a good friend to have. Sipping the last of her tea, she waited with as much composure as she could muster for the next question.
“Don’t look so worried, Miss Wellington. I would not ask you to betray a confidence. But I should just like to know how you come to be involved in this matter, and why you are being employed as a go-between.”
“Ah.” The lady had noticed both men observing her engagement ring, and had been expecting this question. She smiled radiantly. “I have the honour to be betrothed to Hannibal Heyes.”
“Betrothed!” exclaimed Brubaker. To Heyes, of all men, he thought to himself. I would never have guessed that. I’d have thought it more likely that Curry would be the lady’s man, if one could think such a thing about either of them.
“When did that happen?” the judge asked.
“Thirteen months ago, in Idaho Springs, Colorado. Before that, we were promised. He gave me this promise ring,” she said, tapping the amethyst she now wore on her right hand, “in January of ’eighty-one.”
“So you’ve known them for a considerable time.”
“Yes. It would be about nineteen months now.” She smiled. “It’s quite a long story, which we can go into later if you are interested.”
Hanley was shaking his head. Ever the lawyer, all sorts of concerns and unpleasant possibilities had sprung into his mind. “Don’t you—forgive me, but haven’t you any family?” he asked.
“I have family in both Scotland and England, but we are not particularly close. On the other hand, my twin brother and I are exceedingly close—and yes, Heyes formally asked his permission and he gave it. My brother and I own the C Bar W Ranch in northern Colorado.”
“My dear young lady, don’t you realize that you are taking a considerable risk?” the judge demanded, speaking, out of his concern, with more force than he intended.
Which risk would that be, I wonder? thought Paula to herself wryly. There are so many. “I’m aware of the risks, sir,” she said, her tone repressive. “Hannibal Heyes is the man that God has sent to me, the man I have chosen to marry. I am very blessed that, with God’s guidance, he has also chosen me.”
“Of course,” Hanley responded. “I did not intend that to be a criticism of the rightness of your betrothal; only, perhaps, a question as to the wisdom of such a course of action at this time.” Accepting the snub, he rose and offered his hand to assist her from her chair. “You had best go and tell your fiancé and his partner that we are waiting to meet with them. How long do you think it will take you to return?”
“Perhaps an hour and a half,” said Paula, rising and opening her hunter watch, which declared the time to be half-past ten in the morning.
“Shall we plan to meet here in my chambers at one o’clock? That will give you time to check into the hotel first, while we read Counsellor Bancroft’s letter and discuss that and some other matters of importance. I will have lunch sent in for all of us, and then we can eat and talk without interruption,” Judge Hanley suggested.
“That’s most kind of you,” said Miss Wellington. “We’ll be here at one.” The door closed behind her, leaving Hanley and Brubaker to exchange wondering glances.
*** *** ***
Riding out of town in the opposite direction to that from which she had arrived, Paula took precautions to ensure that she was not being followed, and then cut across country to the carefully chosen rendezvous point with Heyes and Kid.
Heyes was on the lookout for her. “Everything go all right?” he asked, reaching up to lift her down from the saddle, a courtesy he rarely failed to perform, just as he almost always remembered to offer her assistance in mounting up. This made Paula feel absurdly like some fragile maiden from a previous century rather than the part owner of a successful horse ranch. It was a wonderful feeling, though, to have a man take so much thought for one’s ease and comfort, and the seemingly effortless strength with which he lifted her down always gave her a tiny thrill.
“All well,” she said, giving her skirt a quick shake. “Judge Hanley and Mr. Brubaker will be waiting for us in the judge’s chambers at one. That will give us time to see to our horses, check into the hotel, and change clothes. They want to read over Richard’s letter before we come. I suspect the judge also wants to think of lots of questions to ask us, or to ask the two of you, anyway. He’ll have lunch sent in so that we can eat while we talk, in the privacy of his chambers.” She relayed the judge’s assurances of safety and explained about the young acting sheriff’s absence, then went on to relate how much she had said about the amnesty offer and what Hanley’s reaction had been.
*** *** ***
Passing Bancroft’s letter to Mr. Brubaker, Judge Hanley busied himself writing a quick note to his wife. He called to his clerk, handing him the folded note and requesting him to take it to Mrs. Hanley at their home a mile outside of town. “I’ve asked her to come here as soon as she can, so I’d like you to wait for her to get ready, and then drive her back into town. You can take my buggy. When you get back, take this second note over to the café, and get some lunch yourself. I won’t need you again until a quarter to one, just before Miss Wellington is expected to return. There will be two gentlemen with her, and we shall need the whole afternoon free from interruption, so you will have to make my excuses to anyone wishing to see me or Mr. Brubaker.”
*** *** ***
Having seen to their horses and retrieved what they needed from the pack carried by Miss Wellington’s mule, the three registered at the small hotel, Paula taking one room and the two men signing into another as Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones according to their usual practice. Mindful of the need to make a good impression, they changed into clean shirts and added ties and coats—cream shirt and brown pinwale corduroy coat for Heyes, white shirt and saddle-tan leather coat for Kid. Paula rearranged her hair and changed into a pale blue afternoon walking dress trimmed with navy blue piping, complemented by the one dressy hat she had with her, to do Heyes credit. They walked over to the courthouse together.
Young Carothers was looking out for them. Showing them in, he left to tell the couple who owned the café across the street that they were ready for the lunch, previously bespoken, to be sent over to the judge’s chambers, remaining to help carry the trays as Judge Hanley had reminded him to do.
Hanley and Brubaker rose to exchange handshakes with Heyes and Curry, and Hanley then surprisingly turned to introduce his wife, Louisa, sitting quietly in a corner, her hands occupied with a prosaic piece of knitting. He assured his visitors of his wife’s agreement to keeping the conversation, and the identities of the outlaws, confidential. The men remained standing until Miss Wellington had seated herself.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us, Judge,” Heyes began. “We weren’t sure, after what you said when you released us on bail, if you wanted to, or if our coming back would cause trouble for you.” He grinned cheerfully at Brubaker. “And thank you, Mr. Brubaker, for the excellent work you did on that case with the Tapscotts.”
“It was a pleasure—a real pleasure,” replied the lawyer. “The prosecutor didn’t have a good case against them, you know. It was all circumstantial, with no serious evidence introduced. But I have to admit that without a lawyer, they might have found it difficult to convince the jury.”
Judge Hanley added, “That admonition to you about never expecting to see you again was simply to let you know what my intention was in setting the bail so low. After reading Mr. Bancroft’s letter, I wish to tell you that not only are you both quite welcome here, but that Mr. Brubaker and I intend to do everything in our power to assist Mr. Bancroft and help the two of you gain the amnesty that was promised you. I agree with both of your attorneys—it is more than time that you availed yourselves of the services of a good lawyer in this matter.”
“Well, we can’t, really,” said Heyes. “We’re not in a position to do anything to put pressure on the governor.” He added, after a slight pause, “And I suppose he knows that. Maybe I’m being too cynical, but …”
Brubaker broke in. “No, Mr. Heyes, I don’t think you’re being overly cynical. It is possible that the governor didn’t expect you and your partner to be able to keep the terms of the amnesty offer, rather than simply making you a promise which he never intended to keep, as you were about to suggest. It’s quite true that there’s very little you can do, but there is a great deal that an attorney friendly to your case can do, even without taking any official action such as the pursuit of legal remedies. That will be up to Counsellor Bancroft and me.”
At this point, a knock on the door heralded the arrival of lunch. Mrs. Hanley and Miss Wellington took charge of the food and made sure that the men were provided with everything they needed before shutting the door behind the clerk and one of the waitresses from the café, and resuming their seats. Everyone began to eat.
“I intend,” continued Judge Hanley, after applying himself to his food for a few minutes, “to form an unofficial association, consisting of anyone who has your best interests at heart and is not himself at odds with the law, to make sure that no avenue is left unexplored to get this matter settled for you. I had thought of calling it the Heyes and Curry Amnesty Achievement Association. You gentleman can help by giving me the names and addresses of anyone you think might be useful. I have already had the pleasure of making your fiancée’s acquaintance, Mr. Heyes, but from what Counsellor Bancroft writes, you have other well-wishers in various locations around the West. And, Mr. Curry, is there a lady somewhere who is interested in your future welfare?”
Kid Curry blushed suddenly. “Yes, your honor, there is. Miss Lillian O’More owns a restaurant in Telluride. Richard Bancroft is her man of business—that’s how we met him. We were betrothed at the end of the summer. Most people in the town still know me as Thaddeus Jones, but at least they know now that I’m not just a drifter taking advantage of her kindness.” After a moment’s thought, he added. “And Richard—Mr. Bancroft, that is—was one of the men who baptized me last July. That’s one of the reasons he wants to help us.” His face was transformed by a sudden brilliant smile.
Judge Hanley, a deacon in the local Methodist church, nodded. This bore out certain hints that Miss Wellington had already dropped. “So you are a follower of Jesus Christ, Mr. Curry?”
“Yeah.” Kid grinned—he couldn’t help himself. “So’s Heyes, now.”
“I was baptized four weeks ago, the second of May,” said Heyes in a low voice, still unwilling to say much about the astonishing experience he had undergone, and the terrifying, agonizing months leading up to it.
“Gentlemen, that is very good hearing.” The judge reached forward to shake their hands. More than a simple gesture of greeting now, it was a welcome to brothers in the family of God. “I’m glad you mentioned that, because it gives me the opportunity to bring up something rather important, though not encompassed by your attorney’s suggested topic of conversation. I think that a detailed discussion of your amnesty prospects, together with some inquiries that I should like to make into your activities since you went straight, had best wait for tomorrow or even the next day, when your party is more rested, and after we have discussed this other matter.”
[1] A spessartite or cinnamon garnet. They were obtainable in the American West at this period through jewellers in larger cities, such as I. Haberl in Denver, who were willing to import them from Africa.